Page 22 of Fatal Mistake
“I’m not leaving town without you. You can be certain of that.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and crossed over to her, each step reminding her of a panther stalking his prey. His piercing gaze pinned her in place.
“Don’t even think about leaving,” he said.
“You’re a mind reader now?” she asked, hating that he was right.
He didn’t speak but held her gaze for a moment before heading for the door. “I should be back in ten minutes or less.”
He stepped onto the landing, and she let out a pent-up breath of frustration. She heard the outside padlock snick into place.
“Really,” she called out. “You’re locking me in?”
“You give me no choice.”
Just like him to assume she’d take off. She supposed since she’d been thinking that very thing he was justified in his interpretation, but still. “Maybe you should have thought about it first. I have the key, and you won’t be getting back inside until my replacement shows up.”
“Are you sure?”
Keys jingled on the other side of the door, and she ran to her hiding place to jerk open the drawer. She found it empty. Great. He’d taken her keys while she’d slept, too. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, but she resisted displaying her anger for him to gloat over.
Not anger. Not really. She had no real intention of leaving before her replacement arrived. Still, she wouldn’t let anyone bark orders at her.
She glanced out the window and caught sight of him as he skirted the edge of the clearing. A big, powerful guy, a real man’s man, he also possessed the grace of a dancer and the tenacity of a bull.
He disappeared into the woods near her hunting blind. He was doing everything in his power to catch Oren, and for that she should be thankful and help him track Oren down.
So what if Agent Riggins was bossy and controlling? She knew how to handle that behavior. She’d learned the hard way when Nolan did an about-face after he’d put the engagement ring on her finger. He’d gone from a kind man to a guy who thought of her as his property and demanded she comply with his wishes. She didn’t put up with his need to control her every step for long, but broke off their engagement and had only recently gotten her life back on track. There was no way she would ever enter into a relationship with a man like that again.
But what about staying alive and getting her old life back? How did that work with going to D.C. and putting herself in Oren’s path?
It didn’t, but could she live with herself if Oren killed another person when she could have helped Agent Riggins stop him?
The answer was simple. No. She’d go to D.C. to help locate Oren, but she wouldn’t let anything personal develop with Agent Riggins. And she wouldn’t let down her guard and count on him for her protection. She might accompany him, but she would live as she had for the last three months, relying on herself alone to stay safe, as she still couldn’t trust him to be there for her while he was so focused on capturing Oren.
“So you’re going to D.C.,” she whispered to the empty room, as if it could talk back and reinforce her decision, and she hoped—no, she prayed—she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
* * *
Cal stepped through knee-high grass, seeds clinging to his dress slacks. He should have worn tactical clothes instead of the suit, but he thought Tara would respond better to the professional agent look he reluctantly took on when his job required it. He’d planned to march up to her tower last night, make a proper entrance, and offer a professional plea for her help.
“That went according to plan,” he muttered as he slipped under the limb of a tall maple.
When she’d run again, he’d had no choice but to come after her. Then emotions had flown high between them in this ridiculous undercurrent that seemed to swirl round them. He made sure his presence kept people from crossing him or arguing, but Tara? She didn’t care. She stood up to him. Impressed the heck out of him as much as it frustrated him.
He’d always been able to control his emotions, but, man. With her it was like she had antiaircraft ready to shoot down his defenses. That made him mad at himself. He got grumpy and fired back.
And if his behavior wasn’t enough to make her run screaming, he’d come here to ask for her help, and what had he done in return? Nothing. Well, he’d locked her in the tower. That was less than nothing. He would never have done so if she didn’t have a rifle and could handle it if needed.
His behavior was going to change starting the moment he returned to the tower. He’d control the way he responded to her and point out that she couldn’t run on her own forever. That despite Agent Fields’s failure to keep Keeler away from her at the hospital, the Knights would protect her—he would protect her. He’d remind her that she was needed to help catch Oren, and once he was caught, she’d be safe and could go back to a normal life. Then maybe she’d agree to accompany him back to D.C., and he could do right by her.
A twig snapped ahead, and he swung around to see a rabbit hop into the undergrowth. It could have been Keeler, and Cal’s head was all wrapped up in Tara.
“Not good, man,” he whispered to himself. “Focus.”
One second of underestimating the enemy and people died.
God had given Cal the ability to save people, but He allowed them to die anyway. What point was there in women losing their lives in these bombs? In allowing a stray bullet to take Willy’s life?
What a disaster that had been. Cal carried the boy as they fled from the drug cartel who had taken Willy and his missionary family hostage. Shocked, Cal had stood frozen in place, the boy cradled close, his heart no longer beating. Cal’s second in command basically dragged him out of the compound so they could get to their exfil location in time. They boarded the aircraft, and for the whole flight to Dallas, he listened to the mother’s keening wails and the father’s mumbled prayers. It was the longest flight of Cal’s life, and his palms sweat just thinking about it.
