Chapter Sixty-Six

The next morning, Octavia watched Rory wake up in her arms. She had snuck in sometime around dawn, and now smiled down at him as she slid one enticing foot up the inside of his leg and traced a light finger across his chest.

Instantly awake, he sucked in a breath and put his hand over hers. “No. We talked about this. Stop. “

At his serious tone, she ceased her seduction. Despite her disappointment, she couldn’t help but smile. Because she could tell he was hurting just as much as she was from sheer sexual frustration. If not more.

She had never realized how good it would feel to be treasured like this. Sheltered. Respected. And still wanted.

It was strange, really, these strong feelings she was having for him. Especially since she knew practically nothing about his past.

Time to remedy that.

“So, tell me, querido,” she said softly, catching his gaze. “Who are you, really? Besides a government agent, I mean. You’ve never talked about yourself.”

Though he tried to hide it, she could tell her question startled him. It was her own fault. Up until now, she had been incredibly selfish, not showing the least bit of interest in him personally.

“What brought this on?” he asked.

“Just curious.” She propped her chin up on a hand and studied him. “Tell me everything.”

Laughing, he folded his hands under his head. “You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that. What do you want to know?”

“Something personal. There is more to you than just the knight in shining armor routine, no?”

From his expression, she guessed he wasn’t sure what to say.

Unwilling to back down, she reached over and stroked his jaw with a tender touch. “Were you ever in love?”

Again, he hesitated, as if not sure if he was ready to share his past with her.

She could relate, but she still wanted to know. Literally everything.

Was that how deep her feelings for him went?

She was afraid that the answer was yes.

At length, he answered. “Yes. I was married once. I loved her very much.”

Octavia frowned. Not so much because of what he said, but because of the feeling of jealousy it stirred inside her. Until she caught something dark in his eyes. A deep sadness.

“Something happened to her.” It wasn’t a question.

His eyes closed for a moment, and he swallowed. “She died,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

She ached for him, felt his pain cut through her like a knife as their eyes locked for one infinite moment.

He still mourned his wife. Still loved her, no doubt.

A terrible thought struck Octavia. Could that be why he refused to make love to her? Was it not his sense of honor that stopped him from sleeping with her, but instead loyalty to his dead wife?

Feeling oddly discomfited, hurt even, she admitted to not liking the possibility.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The response felt inadequate, but what else could she say? That she was secretly happy the woman was dead? That she was happy there was no competition for this man’s affections?

He nodded, accepting her sympathy. “It was a long time ago.”

She couldn’t bear seeing such sadness in him and searched for a change in topic. “What about family—parents, siblings?” She smiled supportively.

His answer came slowly. “My mom and dad died a long time ago, when I was a kid. My grandparents raised me.”

She stilled at those words. Damn. She felt horrible for having started this conversation. Was there nothing in this man’s past that was a safe subject? Was there nothing that wasn’t sad?

“They were good people,” he assured her, as if sensing her concern. “They never even blinked at the added responsibility.” He smiled, his gaze turning inward, as if deep in memories. “Not only did they take me in as a somewhat rebellious pre-teen, but also my autistic brother, Doug. It was hard on them, but we had a good childhood, a happy one. And it was all because of them.”

The picture he painted surprised her. Probably because he came across as such a lone wolf. A man who didn’t need anyone except himself. It was an ability to envy. But family…that was something precious. He was very lucky.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” she said, wanting to hear more.

“Yeah.”

She saw love in his expression. Love and affection for the people who had been such an important part of his past. It was a kind of love she knew. She’d felt it, herself…at some point.

Although she couldn’t remember when, or for whom. Odd.

“My brother, Doug, is a lot younger than I am,” he said. Distractedly, he stroked a hand over her hip. “He’s in assisted living now, and doing well. He’s a good kid.”

She shifted her body closer, brushing up against the hard strength of his, creating a delicious feeling wherever they touched. “You love him very much, yes?” she said.

“Of course. He’s my brother.”

For a while longer, they talked about his brother and his grandparents. Rory told her how the older couple had always been there for him, even when his work had taken him halfway around the world. And how he, in turn, had always tried to be there for them.

Tried being the operative word. “After I lost my wife, I found it difficult to be close to anyone,” he explained. “Especially Doug, who needs someone to lean on, but isn’t able to give anything in return.”

She sensed his guilt about that and felt for him. “Is Doug why you studied psychology?” she asked, having wondered about that. His keen insights implied there was more behind the knowledge then mere psych classes. He had a talent for reading people.

For reading her.

He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “It played a big part, I guess. But I’ve always been fascinated by the workings of the human mind. Studying it has served me well over the years.”

That, she could imagine. He was incredibly smart. Add a knowledge of psychology to the mix, and he could kick ass. The thought made her smile. “I am sure it has. You are a very clever man, Rory O’Donnell.”

“You think so? Sometimes I wonder.”

She glanced over and, to her surprise, saw he was serious. “Why would you say that, querido?”

He pushed out a breath. “So many reasons.” He frowned, giving her a sideways glance. “This thing with Creed, for instance. I should be able to figure out how he keeps finding us. We’ve changed vehicles, gotten all new clothes, searched everything we have with us, and haven’t found a thing that could explain it.”

And just like that, she was instantly riddled with guilt.

She wished she could confide in him, tell him that Creed was trying to kill him because of her. Because of what she set in motion by making it appear they were in a relationship. She—they—needed to take Creed down for all things he had done—to them, and to so many others.

She wanted to tell Rory. Needed to warn him to be careful.

“Don’t you dare.” Lena’s voice echoed in her mind.

Octavia struggled not to show her inner ambivalence. Lena fighting her didn’t make it any easier. How could she explain that she really felt Rory would understand.

“No! Unacceptable! Too much risk.” Inside her, Lena rebelled at putting faith in a man. Any man. Octavia could feel her control slipping, the familiar mist of that in-between world closing in.

“Poor baby,” she crooned. “Look at the time. I better get ready for my swim.” With a playful pat to Rory’s cheek, she jumped up and quickly made for the bathroom.

She locked the door and leaned against it.

“But we could use his help,” she said under her breath, meeting her own eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t be a fool.” Lena silently said. “O’Donnell has his own agenda, and you know it.”

Octavia waved a hand. “Of course he does,” she whispered. “He wants to keep us safe.”

Lena scoffed. “You always were naive, Octavia.”

“The risk is too big now.” Joey’s voice came through. “That thing, that abomination last night—it would have killed him.”

Octavia nodded. “Yes. It’s probably why Creed—” She gasped at a sudden realization. That time at the hotel—Joey hadn’t known why she was holding the phone. And just a few hours later, Creed had shot at them at the park.

Madre de Dios! A traitor, right in their midst!

“Everything all right in there, Octavia?” called Rory from the other side of the bathroom door.

She glanced around nervously and called back that she was fine and would be out in a minute, before saying softly, “You were always paranoid, Lena.”

“There’s nothing paranoid about looking out for numero uno.”

“It is when we risk his life, yes?”

Lena had no quick comeback for that one. Instead, she sneered. “Your bleeding heart will get us into trouble, Octavia. But I won’t let it. Not when we’re this close to getting that son of a bitch. He’s going to make a move soon. I can feel it.”

“Who died and put you in charge, anyway?” Octavia said, struggling against Lena’s insistence for control. “I didn’t like this plan from the start.”

“Me, neither,” said Joey, her voice coming from far away. “I think we should be honest with Rory. Tell him—”

“No!” Lena snapped, impatience solidifying her presence. “We continue as planned.”

She spun away from the mirror and snatched up her bathing suit on her way out.

She needed a workout, and she needed it fast.

A glance at the bed showed Rory stretched out, changing TV channels with the remote. He made for a tempting sight, but she wouldn’t let him distract her. She headed out the door with a quick, disgustingly cheery goodbye, she hoped sounded enough like Octavia to fool him.

She really didn’t want to have to face him in her present mood. Not with Octavia still seething inside, fighting her, trying to resurface.

No way was she going to let her mess things up.

Not now that they’d come this far.