Nate leaned back in his chair and kept his focus on Sarah’s face. If he didn’t, he’d stare at the rest of her. She’d changed into a white tank top and sweater over a long, flowy pink skirt. When she crossed her legs, the slit in her skirt briefly exposed her bare legs. Instead of hiking boots, she wore brown sandals that showed off her pink-painted toenails.
He shouldn’t have said anything about her father. Yet, while she’d talked about Rebecca and Thomas, there’d been a sadness in her voice that Nate wanted to ease. Except now he’d just killed Calum’s trust after swearing not to say anything. Nate was becoming quite good at betraying people he cared about.
“Nate?” Sarah’s voice sounded higher and pitchier. “How do you know about my father?”
“A few weeks ago, after we met, the young woman at the SPO’s front desk said you’d left early for a family emergency.”
The same woman who’d been murdered the night he kissed Sarah. “I remember that.” She stood and shoved books into a straw bag. “I need to go—”
“I’m sorry.” Nate rose. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” Except from her short, clippy tone it wasn’t. “You reminded me that I need to check on my dad. He’s been hospitalized.” She bit her bottom lip. “But you already know that.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” She put her bag onto her shoulder and passed by him, her skirt brushing his jeans. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. You have this way of appearing in my life.”
“Actually—” The word sounded hoarse, like it’d come out sideways. “I’m leaving town.”
She stopped to look at him, her eyes less wary and more…concerned. Sorry, maybe? A man could only hope.
“Will you be gone long?”
He paused and stared out the window. Across the street, a man in a black hooded sweatshirt stood with his hands in his pockets. Nate couldn’t see the man’s face but could feel his intense stare.
“Nate?” Sarah prompted.
He shook his head and said, “Yes. I’ll be gone for…I’m not sure if I’m coming back.”
“Oh.” She adjusted the bag, and her gaze darted around the café. “I didn’t know.”
“I have two favors to ask.”
“Of course.” She smiled, and every part of his body heated up. Is this woman ever not beautiful?
He glanced out the window. The man in the hoodie had disappeared. “First, I need you to promise not to go out to that cemetery alone.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and threw it on the table. It was too much, but in a few days he wouldn’t need money, so it didn’t matter. “Second, you have to stop your research into Rebecca Prideaux and Thomas Toban.”
Her face scrunched in an adorable way that made him want to kiss her again. “Why?”
“Well, for starters, Cassio—a Fianna warrior—asked you to. Second, I believe you’re in danger from other quarters as well. I’m not sure of the details, but I am sure I won’t be here to protect you.”
“Nate—”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Please, Sarah. Promise me.”
She covered his hand with hers. Where he was hot, her fingers were cold. “I won’t go to the cemetery alone.” She regarded their hands, one of top of the other, and made no move to pull away. “But I’ve spent most of my career studying Rebecca and Thomas.”
He bent in close enough to smell her gardenia perfume, his hand tightening on her arm. “The Fianna want you to stop what you’re doing. And they won’t hesitate to go after the ones you love. It’s no coincidence that after our meeting today your father was involuntarily admitted to the psych ward. The same day Senator Prioleau warned your boss about your research.”
Her eyes widened, and he could hear her breath stutter. “My boss just told me about the senator’s warning. How do you know about my father and those things?”
“I just do. And I’m not the only one.” He focused on her lips and lowered his voice. “Please, Sarah. Take your father and leave town. Forget about Rebecca and Thomas. Save yourself while you still can. If I could go back in time and save myself and my men, I would.”
Despite the sadness in her eyes, she said, “Alright. I won’t send in my grant request.” The strain in her voice matched her deep exhale, as if she’d just lost a fight with herself.
The relief left his muscles trembling. When she dropped the hand covering his, he wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her close, and kissed her. Her bag hit the ground with a thud.
It took a moment before she melted into him, another before her arms wrapped around his neck. Her lips softened beneath his, and he used one hand to keep her head still while his other arm brought her even closer. Her breasts, barely covered by her tank top and sweater, were pressed against his chest, and their hips made contact. He didn’t care if she could feel his reaction to her. He didn’t care about anything other than having her in his arms one last time.
His eyes burned behind his eyelids as his lips moved over hers. He chose a rhythm that dominated yet allowed her to respond. The kiss was wet and hard and wonderful—until someone wolf-whistled.
He raised his head to see her closed eyes and slightly swollen lips. It wasn’t until he kissed her forehead that she left his arms, her hands on her stomach. When her gaze met his, his heart felt like an IED had exploded in his chest. Strands of hair framed her face; her sweater had shifted, exposing a bare shoulder; her rapid breath pushed her breasts higher above her shirt’s neckline. Unable to control his breathing, his thinking, or his deepest needs, he left. He couldn’t bear to see the questions in her brown eyes. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye.
* * *
Sarah couldn’t move. She couldn’t adjust her sweater or find her straw bag. Even her breath couldn’t find a normal rhythm. Nate had done it again. He’d kissed her and then walked away, leaving her a trembling mess.
Aftershocks made her shiver, and she fixed her sweater. She’d heard the whistle, but now everyone had returned to their phones and conversations. She found her bag and touched her lips. She’d never, in her entire life, been kissed the way Nate kissed her. She’d never been held so tightly against such a hard body. She’d never been made to feel so…desired. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. How could he kiss her and walk away? Again?
After clearing the table, she left the café. Although his kiss had gifted her the moon, his sad eyes had told her he didn’t want to go wherever he was going. His demeanor was more than despairing. It was defeated.
Including today, she’d met Nate six times. And in the first five, he’d been a man of determination and force, asking questions, making plans, issuing orders. And always incredibly polite. But the man who’d just asked her to abandon her life’s work, kissed her, and walked away? That wasn’t Nate. That was a man who’d lost.
What changed since she’d seen him earlier?
She headed toward her truck. Had she just agreed not to restore Rebecca’s diary? Had she just agreed not to reclaim her professional reputation? Apparently so. The decision hurt more than she’d expected. Or maybe the pain was from Nate’s habit of kissing and leaving. Either way, she wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and critique the next episode of Drunk History.
As she neared Iron Rack’s Gym, she saw Nate on the sidewalk talking to the friend with the long black braid. The same man she’d seen at the police station two weeks ago.
Nate’s friend laid his helmet on top of his motorcycle and put his hand on Nate’s arm, but Nate threw it off. Clearly, they were arguing, though she couldn’t hear what they were saying. A third man came out of the gym and joined them. This one had dark brown hair tied at the base of his neck. While the man with the braid had tribal tattoos on each bicep, barely visible beneath his T-shirt, the new man had tattooed arms. When he clasped his hands behind his head, the underside of the tats showed. They were full-circumference inked sleeves.
What was she doing? Spying on Nate and his friends? For what reason? Because Nate was hot. Because she craved his arms around her one more time. Because he’d been kind to her, saved her, and then paid for her photos.
And made me walk away from my life’s work.
Now she was standing in a dingy street, lusting after a man she barely knew who probably belonged to a biker gang and who’d asked her to give up on her career. She moved into the closest alley and closed her eyes. What is wrong with me?
A bottle smashed, and she opened her eyes. Two guys jostled each other at the other end of the alley. She got into her truck, and saw a man in a black hoodie in an old service station near Iron Rack’s. He hovered beneath the faded Texaco sign, staring at Nate and his buddies.
She didn’t like the way the hooded man looked at Nate.
Nate’s buddies went inside, but Nate stayed outside, eyes closed, face to the sky as if wanting to feel the sun’s rays for the last time. Finally, he followed his friends. A moment later, the hooded man crossed the street and slipped something through Iron Rack’s door mail slot.
Once the man left, she headed home. New construction projects around the city and detours for tomorrow’s opening of the Summer Arts Festival snarled traffic the entire way.
She had no business interfering in Nate’s life. Yet, as she drove around a garden square, she made a U-turn. It took another twenty minutes before she parked in the same spot she’d vacated. The moment she got out, her phone hummed with a text.
Lady Sarah, the past is but a battle lost. Leave it be or risk the cost.
“Dammit, Cassio.” Seriously. What had Rebecca and Thomas ever done to him?
She grabbed her bag and locked the truck. After looking both ways, she crossed the street and entered Iron Rack’s Gym.