And it was only getting worse.
“I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.
“Morning? Tell me you’re kidding.” The pout was replaced by a growl. “I have no intention of taking the evening off. I need to pay a visit to AIR headquarters to discuss the car chase and pump Agent Gutierrez for information.”
The words pump Agent Gutierrez hit him the wrong way, and he gripped the steering wheel with so much force he cracked the metal. “Does Michael have another boat?”
“Yeah, but if I take it, I’ll leave him stranded.”
“I seriously doubt that. He’s a plan B, C, and D man. Take the boat.”
She sighed. “You’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Ha, ha.”
“So listen. Tonight I have to rise from the dead. I’ll sneak over to your house as soon as it’s done.”
A sharp intake of breath. “So . . . you’re ending things with Pagan?”
“Yes. It’ll be done by midnight.”
Utter silence.
Man, he wished he could read Evie better, but when she wanted to be, she was a master at disguising her reactions. And without her nearby, he couldn’t sense her emotions.
Funny, but the empathic ability he’d once despised was now one of his most beloved and well used.
“Just so you know,” he added, “I’m not going to sleep with her.” He didn’t owe Evie the assurance; they weren’t dating and had made no promises to each other—and, damn it all, they couldn’t be together.
None of that stopped him, however.
“I didn’t ask, did I?” There was no emotion in her tone. “Besides, sleeping with her before and/or after you’ve broken her heart would be a total douche move.”
His jaw clenched. “Look, until you, I always told her before I was going to do something with someone else. Not why, just that it was going to happen. She never minded, and that’s part of the reason I stayed with her. If it weren’t for the job, I would have been faithful. I want to be faithful.”
Again silence.
He wanted her to see him, the real him, he realized. And he wanted her to tell him she thought better of him. Even though he sometimes didn’t think better of himself.
“Do you know what it’s like to seduce someone you’re not attracted to?” he gritted. “Or worse, someone you despise? Do you know what it’s like to hear their cries of pleasure and wish you were hearing cries of pain? Do you know how dirty something like that can make a person feel? Do you?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you know what it’s like to have sex with someone you know you’re going to have to kill? Or to know just how badly your actions are going to hurt someone you care about?”
“Blue—”
“Would you mind if I did sleep with her?” he snapped. He didn’t want her to see him now. Some part of him just wanted blood.
Another sharp intake of breath. Then, very softly, she said, “Yes. I would mind. Just . . . try to end it by eleven, yeah. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Waiting for you.
What did that mean?
He knew what he wanted it to mean. Because as much as he wanted blood, he still wanted her. If she’d let him, he’d take her and deal with the consequences.
“I’ll hurry,” he said.
The piece in his ear shut off, spilling static.
* * *
Blue called Pagan from the road and told her he would come by her place around ten for a chat-up, as Evie would say, then hung up when she rapid-fired questions at him.
Non-man-whore move: he wasn’t going to destroy her dreams and aspirations over the phone.
Besides, there was nothing he could tell her that would make her feel better about what was about to happen.
He stopped at Evie’s safe house to grab the laptop and Lucky Horn flash drive, then went home to get his favorite SUV and let his neighbors know he was back in business.
Finally the moment of truth arrived.
He checked the perimeter of Pagan’s house for any surveillance equipment—found none—and made his way to the door. She answered before he had a chance to knock, and a hard fist of guilt pummeled him. She wore a slinky red dress that hugged her voluminous curves, and her blond hair framed her perfectly made-up face. She’d gotten dolled up for him.
She was beautiful and stacked and everything he’d once thought he wanted—but nothing he truly did. Seemed he had a taste for a certain slender, dark-haired, doe-eyed girl and only she would do.
I’m sorry, Michael.
I’ll be waiting for you, Evie had said.
Be naked, he should have told her.
Pagan motioned him inside, and as he passed her she said, “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call? Who were you with? I have a right to know!”
He turned to face her, hating himself more than ever. Just get it over with. Tone gentle, he said, “I’m sorry, Pagan, but this isn’t working for me.”
Shock registered a moment before a nervous laugh slipped from her. “I know I’m acting like a witch right now. I’ve been worried about you, that’s all. But you’re here now, so I can relax. Let’s have a drink and we can discuss something else.”
Witch? Evie would have shot him in the face and called him a whore. And as much as he always despised when she used the word, he kind of preferred that kind of response to this. Acceptance.
Pagan took one of his hands and urged him forward. He planted his heels and clasped her other hand, holding her in place.
“You’re asking questions you have every right to ask,” he said, “and if I was a good man, I’d answer them. But I’m not, and I’m sorry about that, too. You deserved better than I gave you and you deserve better than you’re getting.”
Paling, she released him to twist the silk of her dress. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying . . . we’re over. I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“You’re serious,” she gasped out.
“I am.”
“But . . . but . . . is there someone else?”
He gave her the hard truth. “Yes.” He owed her that much at least.
She threw herself at him and gripped his shirt, clinging. “Who is she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Tell me. Tell me right now. Is there more than one?”
“Pagan. Don’t do this to yourself.”