Forty-Four

Let her go.

That was what Michael’s brain was telling him to do. Just let Sabrina go. It was better this way. Easier. Every time he managed to put some distance between them, he caved. Ended up pulling her closer. Let her sink in just a little bit deeper.

He got out of the car, allowing himself the satisfaction of slamming the door behind him. She didn’t look back, just kept walking, her dog hugging her left flank, watchful of the shadows.

Let her go.

He made sure to lock her car before pocketing her keys. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that keeping her car keys would stop her from following him if she wanted to; he was just hoping her impulsive nature didn’t get the better of her. He dropped the wad of metal into his jacket pocket and headed back to Miss Ettie’s.

She knew what he really was, what he was capable of. But despite her false bravado, he knew the truth: Sabrina had no desire to see him go to work.

That made two of them.

He rounded the corner quietly, giving the exterior of the house a sweeping glance from the shadows, letting his instincts take over. No cartel thugs or sleeper agents lurking in the shadows. All was quiet … which made him very nervous.

He let himself in through the back, pressing his thumb against the small blinking touchpad mounted next to the door. Like he knew it would, the pad read his thumbprint and stopped blinking a few seconds before the auto-locks engaged.

“To tell the truth, I miss my keys.”

Michael turned toward the kitchen table to find Miss Ettie sitting, a cup of tea in front of her. He leaned across the counter to take a look in the Blue Willow bowl she kept on its surface. It was empty.

His shoulders slumped a bit as the weight of one more regret settled in place. “I’m sorry.”

Miss Ettie gave him a smile before raising her cup to her curved mouth. “For what?”

“For this. All of it.” He waved a hand around. “Bio-scanners and bulletproof glass. For not staying away when I should have.”

She lowered her cup, a slight frown multiplying the soft winkles on her face. “Then you’re sorry for the wrong thing, Michael,” she said as she stood, her chair making a faint scraping noise across the hardwood floor. “What you should be apologizing for is staying away as long as you did.”

She traveled the short length of space between the table and the sink with her empty cup before she spoke again. “I heard you leave a while ago and had hoped I wouldn’t see you until morning,” she said, running water into her cup before setting it in the dish drainer.

“Sabrina’s better off without me,” he said, not even bothering to pretend he didn’t know what or who she was talking about.

“Says who? You?” She chuckled softly on her way to her room, the sound telling him what a fool she thought he was. “One thing I know for sure, Michael, is that happiness in this world is a fleeting thing,” she said, reaching out to pat his cheek. “It’s selfish and cruel to deny it. To yourself or to others.” She stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his jaw. “Good night,” she whispered against his lowered cheek before continuing down the hall to her room.

He stood there for a moment, trying to digest her words. Trying to deny the sense they made. The Felix the Cat clock above the sink, with its swishing tail and ping-pong ball eyes, let out a single meow. Eleven p.m.—time to go to work.

Michael took himself upstairs, quietly checking on Alex before letting himself into his room. There he shed his track pants and running shoes, trading them for cargo pants and heavy boots before pulling out his case and setting it on the bed. Thirty seconds later there was a soft-knuckled rap against his closed bedroom door, moments before it swung open.

“Going somewhere?” Ben said, watching him slip knives and guns into various compartments and holsters.

“Got a lead on where Reyes might’ve set up shop,” he said, mulling over the merits of a few concussion grenades.

“Am I invited?”

Deciding against the grenades, he tossed them back into the case before shutting the lid to look up at his partner. “Nope.”

Ben sighed, shouldering himself off the frame to stand up straight. “Maybe you should wait. I got a couple of local guys I trust—I can send them in to gather some intel before you go all Lone Ranger.” Ben knew better than to try and push his way in. The kid was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

Michael smirked in spite of himself but shook his head. “As soon as it gets back to your father that the body Sabrina found isn’t Leo Maddox, he’s going to yank my ass back to Spain. Waiting isn’t an option.”

Ben shook his head. “At least let me send a couple of—”

“What’s going on between Sabrina and Phillip Song?” The question came out of nowhere, etching a frown onto Ben’s face. But as much as he wanted to take it back, Michael wanted answers more.

Ben shrugged, seemed a little reluctant to answer. “I don’t know. She goes and sees him at his restaurant every couple of weeks—usually late, after everyone’s gone to bed. She hangs out for an hour or so and she comes home,” he said. “Why? Is that where the two of you went tonight?”

He nodded. “He gave her something before we left—a red silk pouch. Asked her how she’d been sleeping.” Called her sweetheart.

“Like shit,” Ben muttered, seemingly unaware that his knowing that revealed just how close he’d become to Sabrina over the past year. “Wait, is he where you got your intel? I hate to say it, but I’m not sure Song has your best interests at heart. Now I really think you should wait.”

Michael reopened the case and pulled out a pair of binocs before he stooped to shove it back under the bed. “Like I said—not an option.”

“Nothing.”

Michael looked up. Ben was watching him carefully, shoulder leaned against the mantle. “Nothing what?”

“That’s the answer to the question you’re kicking around that thick skull of yours. Nothing.” Ben quirked his mouth into a smile that looked almost wistful. “Nothing is going on between Sabrina and me. She’s my friend—just like you’re my friend. I don’t have many.”

Michael didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just kept heading for the door. He stopped in front of his partner, slapping the field glasses into his open palm. “Keep an eye on her. If she leaves, text me.”