“You’re fine,” he said. His voice came out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, tried again. “How was the water?”
“Hot,” she said. “Purifying.” A faint smile tugged at her mouth. It faded as she scanned his face more closely. “You look worse than I do. What happened?”
He gestured toward the chair beside him. The french fries were still there, ketchup congealing on her plate.
“Eat,” he said. “Then . . . we need to talk.”
About Summit. About Hale’s death. About the fact that there was no going back.
CHAPTER 32
NORAH
Cleo had solidly ensconcedherself as the new queen of Black Tower Security, as evidenced by the way she lounged in the middle of the conference room table, completely unconcerned by the intense discussion happening around her. Despite Norah’s insistence that she could lock Cleo in the apartment, Ross had declared her more than welcome anywhere on the premises.
Norah turned her new employee badge between her fingers. Black Tower Security. Senior Financial Analyst. As far as titles went, it was technically a promotion, but a niggling part of her felt quite sure she hadn’t earned it.
One week of living and working at Black Tower and she was still finding her footing with the sudden career shift. The relationship shift between her and Marshall, however, felt as natural as breathing.
They spent every evening together, and her desk had conveniently been placed in his office. The giant man named Tank who previously shared the space had even smiled as he moved his own belongings to make room for her. Miranda ensured her that despite his size and ever-present glower, Tankwas a teddy bear. Apparently even the smallest smile from the towering man was a glowing endorsement of her presence.
In fact, the entire Black Tower team had welcomed her with open arms. Even if she never said a word in the constant briefings and updates as the team continued their efforts to dismantle the Syndicate.
“Has anyone heard anything from Jackson?” Ross asked, as the meeting was coming to a close.
Marshall shook his head, a pained expression on his face. Norah laid her hand on his knee, and he set his own on top of it. Norah’s eyes flew to Miranda’s, but she was shaking her head as well. Jackson was firmly in the wind, and no one could find trace of him.
“Okay, that’s it for today then.”
Marshall squeezed her fingers as everyone around them moved toward the door.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I know you deserve to make the choice yourself.”
Norah almost laughed at the lead-in. “That sounds promising,” she teased. “What’s going on?”
Marshall didn’t return her smile. “Hale’s funeral is set for tomorrow morning.”
Norah flinched and tried to pull her fingers from his. He didn’t let them go. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. But I promised myself I would support you either way. Do you want to go?”
Norah’s head spun, emotions warring with each other. She met Marshall’s gaze and saw the love and concern in his eyes. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “One part of me knows that the man was going to kill you or me. Or both. That he was using me and didn’t care at all what happened to me in the end.”
Marshall’s mouth tightened. Understandably, he had never liked Hale.
“On the other hand, I have all these memories of his guidance and friendship. I know his wife. He was like a father to me. And all of that doesn’t just go away, even if he ended up...How could I miss someone like him?” she cried, her voice breaking on the last words.
Marshall pulled her into his arms. “Because you’re a good person, my love. You trusted him and you were loyal to him. It doesn’t matter that he proved he didn’t deserve that honor. You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if it would help you find closure to go to his funeral, then that is what we’ll do.”
“Is it safe?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“We’ll make sure it’s safe,” he replied, tucking her head firmly under his chin. “I’ll always make sure you’re safe.”
She let her cheek rest on his chest and settled her weight on his lap. “There’s still so much left to do. Sidarov?—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, placing a hand on the side of her face. “I don’t want to talk about Sidarov. There is a lot left to do to take down the Syndicate. So many loose ends. And it’s not just Morris’s campaign or Sidarov’s plans. I’m convinced Jackson is innocent, which means there is a real mole within Black Tower.” He sighed. His hand trailed down her neck and then her back before making a leisurely path up again. It felt warm and heavy through her blouse. “I simply refuse to let the evil in this world steal the happiness we’ve found. I’m learning to remind myself that the victory has already been won. Evil will never truly prevail. God wins in the end, right?”
“Right,” she whispered, feeling more than agreeable. Hearing him speak so openly of his faith? That was new—and it had her heart swelling with joy. Not to mention, she felt like putty in his hands and would likely agree to anything he said as long as he never stopped touching her. Was this how Cleo felt when she was petted? No wonder the cat interrupted her anytime she was on her laptop and demanded to be stroked.
“I could stay like this forever,” she murmured.
