Page 37 of Rogue Survivor
“If I stay,” he says, his voice raspy, “I’m gonna be hard pressed to ever leave you, darlin’. This…feels damn close to puttin’ a label on us, and I won’t do that if you’re not ready.”
I reach up to cup his cheek, dragging my thumb over his close-cropped beard. “I don’t know if I can slap a label on what we have, Connor. If I’lleverbe ready to do that. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I want you in my life—inourlives. I want to wake up with you tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. And the one after that. If that means labeling us as ‘official’ or ‘a couple’ or ‘boyfriend and girlfriend—’” I cringe, and the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, “—then so be it. As long as we’re together.”
His chest heaves as he takes a single deep breath, then drops his head so he can kiss me. It’s not a peck. Not a quick brush of his lips. No. This is a deep, searing, all-consuming kiss that rocks me down to my toes. If his arm weren’t around my waist, my knees would be buckling right now.
“We’re together,” he says, all the questions gone from his eyes. Leaving me at the door still breathing hard, he strides into the bedroom, and his duffel hits the floor. The reassuring thud of his boots as he returns to my side calms my racing heart. “I’ll come back, Isabel. Ain’t nothing gonna keep me away.”
Connor
What the hell are you thinking? Staying another night in the same bed with Isabel?
This is a mistake. One I can’t take back even if I wanted to. But that doesn’t stop me from kicking myself the entire way to my truck. Isabel deserves better than me. So does the kid.
She only introduced us because she needed someone in her corner. Because she was alone. From the conversations we’ve had, Isabel’s close friendships are mostly long distance. Her college roommate, Celia. A former coworker, Nancy, who moved to Los Angeles. And Leah, and there was no fucking way she could have calledher. The woman slapped her in the face. Even if she did have a good reason—or thought she did—I can’t help being a little angry.
Isabel needs someone who wasn’t pieced back together with rods and pins and prayers. A man who doesn’t have nightmares from the beating—and all the other shit he’s seen after twenty years with the Bureau.
So why can’t I walk away?
Because you’re falling for her.
The truth hits me hard enough, I’m surprised my sunglasses stay on. If I’m not careful, I’ll make it all the way to Love City before Isabel gets to sleep in her own bed again.
It takes me half an hour of winding through the busy streets of east Austin to reach the old, abandoned mall Veronica and Mitzi were held in, and when I roll to a stop, AJ’s leaning against his F-150, arms crossed, and his Stetson hiding his eyes.
“About damn time,” he says, pushing off the side of his vehicle. “Been waitin’ here for almost an hour.”
“That’s on you. I told you I wasn’t sure when I’d get out of there.” It doesn’t matter that I’ve only spent a handful of hours with AJ Stone. I can read him, and something heavy’s weighing him down. Something other than this case and the loss of his wife. “Want to tell me what has your spurs on backwards?”
With a muttered curse, he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.”
“If you always followed the rules, you wouldn’t have dragged my dying ass out of Flash Flood Alley.” When I stand in front of him, the strain is even more evident. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Got a solid five hours before Leah Nelson’s protective detail had to take her to the hospital and place her under a seventy-two hour psych hold.”
“Fuck. Why?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I kick myself.
Because her daughter’s missing. Because Veronica got away. Because seeing Isabel yesterday didn’t help her a damn bit.
“Don’t answer that. I can figure it out. Her detail still in place?” Another question I shouldn’t have asked from the look AJ gives me. “I’ll tell Isabel. She’ll want to know. Any updates on Reggie Boswell,OfficerMilton, or Mitzi?”
Following him to the exterior door that’s secured with a crime scene sticker, I wait for him to break the seal. “Milton hasn’t been to work since Tuesday. Executed a search of his apartment, but it was clean. And very empty. He’s in the wind. Boswell’s been in and out of prison for half his life. Drug trafficking, assault, pimping, possession of stolen property…”
“Pimping?Fuck. If he sells Mitzi—”
“He won’t.” AJ folds up his pocket knife with a snort. “The dumbfuck got run out of the business by the big dogs. Word from one of our CIs is that if he ever tries to pimp a girl again, he’ll end up missing a vital part of his anatomy.”
Thank God. Isabel and Veronica don’t need that worry on top of everything else.
The mall is utterly silent, the emergency lights chasing the darkness into the far corners of the main concourse. AJ unbuttons his jacket to rest his hand on his pistol and motions for me to stay behind him.
Great. Like I needed the reminder I’m no better than a civilian.
I tug at the collar of my flannel shirt. One good thing about being on leave? No dress code. “Don’t suppose your CI has any idea where Boswell is hiding?”
AJ stops, turns very slowly on his heel, and removes his hat. Fuck. If that’s not a sure sign he’s madder than a hornet, I don’t know what is. “Do you think I’d behereright now if we knew where Boswell was? The girl would be back with her mother, Isabel and Veronica would be home, and I wouldn’t be lying to my chief every four hours ‘bout where half my unit got off to.”
Holding up my hands, I take a step back. “You’re right. I’m an asshole with trust issues. I’m not used to bein’ on the sidelines, and I’m not handlin’ it well. You want to take a swing at me, go ahead.”
