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I’ll be damned, Warwick James.
Merely seeing or hearing that name instantly triggered all kinds of memories and emotions for Simon. None of them good. Every last one of them enough to make his previous decision to take this job a no-brainer.
And a pleasure.
He finished his last set of push-ups, jumped to his feet and rolled his shoulders, letting the quiet surround him. The cabin he’d rented was on the outskirts of Crimson Point, high up in the hills away from any neighborhoods. All he could hear was the sound of the rain drumming on the roof.
A sense of peace rolled over him. A sense of rightness. As if psychologically he’d been waiting for this day to come. And now it was here.
He finally had the chance to get even.
This thing had fallen in his lap and moved fast. Much faster than his other jobs had. Roland had been in a rush to get him here, so much so that he was paying him double his usual fee. That alone would have made this worth it, but the chance to nail James?
Fucking bring it. That arrogant bastard had had this coming to him for years. Now he finally had a legitimate reason to go after him.
He took a quick shower, letting his mind clear as he stood under the hot spray. He’d done initial recon after arriving in town yesterday afternoon. Looking around, getting the lay of the land as it were, and then carefully asking around at places James was likely to visit. Starting with the bar at the waterfront, the Sea Hag, which locals had said was the place where everyone went.
His American accent was fairly decent. He’d kept it casual, careful not to arouse suspicion when he’d asked the bartender whether he’d seen someone matching Warwick’s description. Made up a bullshit story about them being old friends who’d met while serving overseas a few years ago.
Simon’s lip curled at the thought. Friends? Sod that. They had served together overseas, in the same unit. In the same troop. Right from the start, he and James had rubbed each other wrong. And it had gone downhill from there.
The bartender confirmed a Brit had been in just three nights before, and mentioned the scars on Warwick’s face. He’d been eating with a local named Walker—who James had recently teamed up with to go after Isaac Grey in Durham—and a woman. But he hadn’t seen James since.
Simon killed the shower, dried and dressed before checking the current mobile he was using for this job. He couldn’t confirm that James was still in the area, but there was no way the wanker had flown all the way here from the UK just to meet up with someone he’d only met a few weeks ago and barely knew.
No way. There was another reason. Something important enough to make James come halfway across the world. Once Simon found out what it was, he would have him.
But he needed help to make that happen. Tech stuff and hacking weren’t his strengths. His skillset was all about grabbing or taking out a target.
There was a new message. Presumably from Roland.
James spotted in Crimson Point as of 19:00h last night. Contact there listed this address as possible location. Go check it out.
Whatever local contact Roland was using must be low-level, or he would have had the person deal with James already. Simon entered the address into the GPS program. A pin popped up six miles away to the northwest, saying it was a twelve-minute drive from his current location.
On it, he replied, and gathered his gear into his bag before heading out to the rental he’d parked by the front steps. Supplies to bring James in with after he found him. Weapons in case James decided to make things interesting.
He memorized the directions and started down the road bordered by towering evergreens on either side. The rain was steady, traffic light as he wound his way up to the highway and started north.
His official instructions were to bring James in alive and hand him over for questioning. But Roland hadn’t specified in what condition. If things wound up getting messy after Simon found James...he would consider that a bonus.
The target address was located in a small subdivision full of vacant lots and building sites. It was busy. Construction crews working at several sites. He slowed down the street from the small bungalow, staring at it through the rain while his wipers swished back and forth.
There were too many people around for him to risk exploring the house up close, and there was no vehicle parked in the driveway or carport. There were only a few cars parked along this block that weren’t grouped with the construction crew.
He sent the plate number of each one to a contact Roland had given him, a trained tech expert he used frequently, and asked him to run them. Then doubled back to a spot down and across from the house and studied the house again.
Every window was covered by curtains or blinds, preventing him from seeing in. That and the empty driveway were things someone like him or James would do as basic precautions.
His contact sent back details on the vehicles minutes later. One caught his attention. It was a rental, had been picked up two days ago near Crimson Point. The name on the agreement wasn’t James, but he would never use his real name on something like that if he was trying to stay off the radar. Combined with the possible sighting here last night, the rental car’s position around the corner from the house merely added to the theory that this was the right place.
He found a spot just up the street between a row of vehicles parked along the curb at one of the building sites, allowing him a better view of the front of the house. Stakeouts were boring as shite and he’d always hated them, but having James as his target galvanized him.
Over three hours later, his patience paid off.
He sat up straighter, attention riveted to the red sports car as it slowed in front of the bungalow, reversed, then pulled into the driveway next to the rental. Making sure no one nearby was watching him, he took out the small pair of binos to get a better look.
A tall redhead emerged from the car. She tossed her hair back, slammed the door shut and marched for the front of the house.
Whoever the woman was, she was hot. And on a mission.
Simon made a note of her and her license plate. Watched her knock on the door and stand there waiting with hands on hips.
The door opened a few inches. Not enough for him to see inside. But the woman shoved a hand against it and swept inside. Giving Simon a fleeting glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man before it quickly shut behind her.
He stared at the closed door, his intuition buzzing while his pulse accelerated. That definitely could have been James. Had he come here for the woman?
His gut said yes. And if he was right, this was something he could use to his advantage.
He sent the woman’s plate to his contact, then looked back at the house as a little smile curved his lips.
Almost time to settle this personal score once and for all.
****
The entire drive over here from the hospital after she’d stopped to visit Henry, Marley had been bracing herself for the moment she came face-to-face with Warwick again. But the moment he cracked the door open, it felt like the world stopped.
Quickly recovering, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. They were not having this conversation out in the open.
Staring at her in surprise, he shut the door behind her. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked, sounding confused.
“I called Shae and asked if her dad might know where you were. Ivy was there and gave me your address herself.”
“Did she?” The hint of a rueful grin tugged at the side of his mouth and her stupid heart swooned.
“Yep.” She tore her gaze off him and looked around the place instead. It was smaller than her cottage even, but he wouldn’t need more space since he probably wasn’t planning on staying long.
Her eyes stopped on a packed suitcase standing in the corner, her insides grabbing. She faced him again, battling another ridiculous wave of hurt. By now she should have been immune to hurt where he was concerned. “So that’s it, huh? You’re leaving town.” Though to be fair, last night she had told him to leave her the hell alone.
He stood there unmoving while some undecipherable emotion moved in his eyes. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is,” she said. Lying through her teeth and hoping he couldn’t see how much this was killing her.
God, what was wrong with her? Even after everything that had happened, everything he’d done—the lies, the manipulation, the cruelty of him allowing her to grieve all this time—shutting him out of her heart now that she knew he was alive wasn’t so easy.
The sight of him took her breath away and made her go weak.
God help her, she still wanted him. Wanted him so much that just standing this close to him had her entire body aching with need.
She wanted to slap his scarred, handsome face. Scream at him. Grab him. Shake him. Shove him against the wall behind him and capture his lips with hers, kiss him until she broke through his infuriating remoteness and let pure need consume them both.
“Why have you come, Mar?” he asked in a low voice. That dark gaze was so intense. Not just watching her. Seeing into her. Maybe even right through her.
She swallowed, her heart thudding way too hard and fast against her ribs. “I don’t know.” All she knew was, after another exhausting night spent rehashing everything he’d said, she’d woken from a fitful sleep with the burning need to find him and speak her mind in a desperate bid for some kind of closure.
Her plan had been to show up and blast him, unleash the anger burning a hole in her chest. Tell him exactly what he’d done to her and what she thought of him before she stormed out and tried to start the process of mending her broken heart all over again.
Except that had all changed the moment he’d opened the door. One look at him and she forgot herself. Now she didn’t know what the hell to do or say. Or even what she wanted anymore.
He studied her for another moment while the tension inside her pulled ever tighter, ready to snap. “Do you want to sit down?” He gestured to the couch in the adjoining living room. “I can make you some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee.” She wanted him, goddammit, and couldn’t have him.
It cut knife deep. Sliced right through all the pent-up emotion trapped inside her. Made her want to scream and cry and rage against whatever cruel fate had torn them apart.
She’d thought the razor-sharp edge of grief after being told he was dead was unbearable. But this? Standing here looking at the man she’d once given her heart to, so alive and vital and gorgeous while he watched her with those deep, dark brown eyes she could drown in? Eyes that had once warmed for her, creasing at the corners when he’d smiled or laughed.
Eyes that had delved straight into her soul while he made love to her, making her feel things she’d never known existed before him.
Marley drew in a steadying breath, struggling to rally her weakening anger. It would be so much easier if she could hate him. But her heart and body refused to cooperate. They didn’t give a shit that he’d devastated her so completely before. Didn’t care that he was unavailable. They only cared that he was right here in front of her, whole and alive.
No! Too much had happened. Maybe if he told her exactly what was going on, made her understand why he believed he was protecting her by staying away, maybe then she could make peace with it and move on.
Maybe. But she also deserved to speak her truth too.
“Losing you gutted me,” she finally said in a hoarse voice.
He shook his head, pain stealing into his expression. “Marley, I swear to you I never meant—”
“To hurt me. Well, you did. Unbearably. And I can never forgive you for that, no matter what your reasons. Or for showing up now and blowing up the life I’ve struggled to rebuild.” Shit, now her voice was shaking. She was shaking—a former Marine.
Fuck him for doing this to her. For opening this up all over again. “The least you could do is spell it all out for me. Tell me exactly what kind of danger you think you’re protecting me from. Who’s involved, and why. Maybe then I might have a chance at understanding what you did, and hopefully make peace with it someday.”
“Marley, I can’t.” He stepped toward her, shoulders taut, expression urgent.
“Then there’s nothing left to say. But at least this time one of us should have the balls to actually end this like adults—”
“I wish I could undo it all. All of it.” The sincerity on his face tore at her.
She closed her eyes, shook her head as anguish twisted through her. Because she wished that too. More than anything. “Stop.” She opened her eyes. Found him coming closer.
Panic streaked through her, the sincerity in his tone, in his face, making her crack inside. “Don’t,” she warned, throwing up a hand and stepping back. Afraid she would shatter if he touched her. That she might splinter into a thousand jagged pieces that could never be put back together again.
But he didn’t stop.
He caught her wrist, his long fingers locking around it in a strong yet terrifyingly tender grip that made her lower belly somersault, reminding her exactly of how that same touch translated to the way he was in bed.
She sucked in a sharp breath, tugged hard even as she opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell but found herself enveloped by his arms instead, her cheek pressed to the solid muscle of his chest.
Her entire body snapped taut, a quiver rippling through her as he buried his mouth in the hair at her temple, his hold at once possessive and desperate. “I need to let you go, but I can’t,” he said in a ragged whisper, one hand planted between her shoulder blades and the other buried in the back of her hair. “I fuckin’ can’t let you go again now, Marley, I can’t. I won’t.”
The taut, impassioned words had barely penetrated the rushing sound in her ears before he angled her face toward his and his mouth found hers.
A high-pitched, wounded sound tore from her throat. Shock. Pain. Denial. But as his lips slanted across hers, his arms locking her to the big, powerful body she’d dreamed about for over a year, a tidal wave of need slammed into her.
It sucked her under. Pulled her so deep that there was no way to escape. There was only this. Only Warwick crushing her to him, his mouth on hers, tongue demanding entrance.
No, no, no...
She shoved at his chest and stumbled back, breathing unsteadily. Terrified by the unquenchable need between them, and how close she’d just come to allowing him in again.
Warwick stared back at her, his breathing just as unsteady as hers, dark eyes molten with the same unfulfilled hunger she felt. Along with something raw and possessive that sent another shot of alarm through her.
Letting him in again would be reckless. She couldn’t take the risk of him up and leaving her again. Just couldn’t. And he’d proven that not only would he not open up to her about what was really going on, he also couldn’t be trusted to stay.
To save herself, she had to leave. Now.
She drew herself upright, holding his gaze. “If you won’t tell me everything, then there’s nothing more to say. And if you still care about me at all, if you ever really loved me, you’ll let me go now. Please,” she choked out, unable to take this a second longer. Slowly being ripped apart with each second she lingered.
“Marley,” he whispered, face twisting as he reached for her again.
“No,” she cried, spinning for the door. Not daring to look back, she burst out into the cold October rain and ran for her car, the sound of him calling her name making her chest hitch and her eyes flood with scalding tears.
She had barely backed out of the driveway before the first tears fell. God, she was an idiot. And a glutton for punishment.
She’d come here for answers to help her get closure. But she was leaving with the exact opposite.
