Chapter Twenty

It isn’t fair.

She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be in a room with him, feeling like she was drowning without a drop of water in sight. These last few days had been horrible. Awful. Pathetic. And every other synonym that could possibly describe the way she felt without him in her life—lousy. She couldn’t sleep. Barely ate. At least ten times, she’d gotten in her car and driven to his house. And ten times, she’d driven off without knocking.

The last time, last night, had been the hardest.

She’d even walked up to the door, prepared to give up anything, to say anything, so they could be together. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She shouldn’t have to change, and yet that was the only way they stood a chance. God help her, she was close to giving in, to changing who she was, all for a man.

For him.

She hated him for that.

Here she was, hurting, and there he stood, staring at her patiently as he waited for her to do her job and question him. He was perfectly calm, while all she could do was stare at how well his black suit and light blue dress shirt fit him, and wish she’d said something different that night. So help her God, she’d get through this interview without breaking, or slipping up and letting him know how much he hurt her when he told her to get the hell out of his life.

Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she sat at the table, and gestured for him to do the same. “Please, sit. This might take a while, sir.”

He rose a brow at the generic term, stared at the chair, and shook his head. “No. Thank you, though. I prefer to stand…ma’am.” Over here. Away from you.

That’s what he left off, but he shouldn’t have bothered.

She heard it anyway.

“Sit.”

That cocky brow inched higher. “Is that an order, Officer?”

“Yes. In here, in this situation, I’m in charge. At your house, you can tell me to get out and I have to listen, but right now? This is my house, and I’m the one giving orders.” She pointed at the seat. “Sit down and cooperate, or I’ll be forced to take measures to make sure you will.”

He choked on a laugh. “Are you threatening to arrest me if I don’t sit down?”

“Just sit the hell down, sir.”

He came over, each step angrier than the last, and sat exactly where she pointed. “Yes, ma’am.”

This was going well.

If by well, you really meant disastrous.

Big shocker there.

She pressed record on her phone. “Tell me what happened, in detail, please.”

He stared at the phone. It was routine to record an interview with a person involved in a crime, but it was a way to keep herself on track, too. She couldn’t yell at him for hurting her if her bosses would hear it.

Mark leaned back, crossed his arms, and said, “Steven and I work for the Shillings Agency, a private security company. We were assigned to guard Mr. DeLaCourte, a diplomat from France, and we spotted the suspect in the corner, watching our client. Steven said he’d go for him, and pull him away to safety, so I went after the suspect. As I approached, he pulled out a gun and aimed for my client. I lunged in front of the suspect—”

“In front of a loaded gun?” she asked. “Without protection?”

He tapped his fingers on his sleeves. “My charge didn’t have protection, either, ma’am. It’s my job to protect him.”

Leaning forward, she grabbed her phone and hit the pause button. “You could have been killed,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “But I wasn’t.”

“It was still a dangerous risk, considering your stance on the subject.” She relaxed against the back of the chair again. “You remember why we broke up, right?”

“I do,” he said between gritted teeth.

“What if you’d been hit?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t, either, the other day.” She shrugged. “And yet you broke up with me anyway.”

“I was just doing my job,” he said slowly.

“So was I. I know, I know. It’s different, right? Only…it’s not. Because you broke up with me for doing exactly what you did today. Your job.” She hit record on the phone, ending the conversation. “What happened next, Mr. Matthews?”

He stared at her for a second. “Daisy—”

“Officer O’Rourke,” she corrected. “Tell me what happened next.”

He stiffened. “I took the suspect to the floor, and Steven ushered our client to safety. He might have knocked him down, too, but I’m not sure. I was too busy securing the suspect. I placed zip ties on his wrists, and then we waited for the police to arrive, and now I’m here, in this room, with you.”

She nodded, reaching for her phone, but not pressing the stop button on the recording just yet. “Were you injured in any way?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?” she asked, eyeing the way he favored his left arm.

“Positive. Are we finished yet?”

“Yes.” She pressed the stop button. “I—”

He stood up immediately. “You know where to find me if you need me.” He headed for the door without another glance her way. “Thanks, ma’am.”

She gripped the edge of the table tightly. So tightly her fingers ached and her palms throbbed and her arm muscles protested. She wouldn’t say a word. Wouldn’t pick a fight. Wouldn’t make a fool out of herself. Wouldn’t—

The chair squeaked on the floor as she pushed it back forcefully. “So, let me get this straight. It’s okay for you to risk your life, but not me. So, what, because you’re a man, it’s okay? But women should stay in the kitchen and cook,” she said, knowing it would piss him off, and despite her best interests, really wanting to get under his skin one last time.

Like he’d gotten under hers. He’d crawled under there like a parasite, and he hadn’t wormed his way back out yet. She had a feeling he never would.

He froze with his hand on the knob, his shoulders hard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She lifted her chin.

He spun, taking an angry step toward her, trembling with leashed power. Something in her stomach clenched in reply, something that recognized that power, and wanted to set it free. He stopped just short of reaching her and raised a hand, resting it on his chest. “I am not sexist.”

She cocked her head, offering him a tight smile. “If you say so.”

“I don’t think you should stay in the kitchen, damn it.” He dropped his hand to his side, fisting it. “I think it’s awesome you’re a cop. I think you’re the strongest woman I know, and that’s hot as hell. I care about you, and I want you to be happy. More than that, I admire you.”

“But not enough to want to be with me,” she shot back.

“Enough to know that I can’t handle the fact that I might lose you. Enough to know if I’m not the right man for you, then I needed to let you go, even if I didn’t want to. Enough to know I would hate myself if I somehow snuffed that light that burns in your eyes, and asked you not to do the thing you love most in this world.” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “So I set you free, before I could do any of those things. I let you go.”

Her chest tightened, and she blinked rapidly because, God, he was such an idiot. She hadn’t wanted to be set free. She’d wanted him. “Yeah. You let me go. Wow. Gee. Thank you so much for that kindness. For setting me free like that. You’re such an altruist. An inspiration to mankind.”

“You don’t get it,” he exclaimed, closing the distance between them and stopping directly in front of her. Close enough to touch. To smell. To want. “I broke up with you for you, not me. I did it for you. I was trying to protect you—”

“By breaking my heart?” she cried.

He made a broken sound and dragged his hands down his face. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was… Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Ever.”

“You didn’t have to lose me, you idiot!” she shouted, slamming her hands on his chest, and then grabbing his jacket. “You just had to accept me as I was. You just had to…to…love me. I gave myself to you in ways I’ve never given myself to any other man, including William, and I let you in. You begged me for a chance, and I let you in. But instead of giving me the same courtesy, you left me at the first sign of danger. And I’ll never forgive you for that.”

He stared at her, looking as if she’d punched him in the gut. “Daisy—”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t get to Daisy me. Not anymore.”

He tried to touch her face, but she slapped his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never should have broken it off like that. I was scared, and I—”

“Yeah. I know. I was scared, too. But I didn’t run this time. You did.” She crossed her arms, the room blurring in front of her because of the stupid tears he was making her fight off. “I never should have opened the door.”

He shook his head. “Don’t say that—”

“I’ll say what I want to say.”

He reached for her hand. “Damn it, Daisy. I—”

The door opened, and Tim stuck his head in right as she lurched back. “Are things—?” His eyes narrowed when he saw how close they were, and he shot Mark a dirty look. One that said exactly how much he’d like to get alone in a room with him for five minutes. “Everything okay here, Officer O’Rourke?”

“Y-Yes. We were just finishing up.” She grabbed her phone, and avoided looking at Mark. “You’re free to go, Mr. Matthews.”

He stood there, not moving. “Daisy—”

“You heard her,” Tim said, stepping next to her and frowning at Mark. “You’re free to go. So go.”

“Daisy. I’m sorry.”

Even though she could feel him looking at her, silently begging her to meet his eyes one last time, she didn’t. She walked out the door without looking back.

Just like he’d done to her on that street.