“Miss Olivia!” Captain Tripplehorn was standing on the landing outside the back door of the bridge, waving a satphone in his hand.No, no, no!Everything was happening too fast. Spinning out of control. He needed a minute to— “A gentleman who says he is your boss is on the line! He’s asking to speak with you!”
Olivia nodded at the captain. “I’ll be up in a bit!” Then she turned back to Leo and smiled. But the expression was completely cheerless. “Iwillget you a new salvage ship,” she declared vehemently. “Count on it.”
And then she was walking away from him. Climbing the steps to the bridge and taking the pieces of his shocked and shattered heart with her.
Chapter Twenty-one
Three weeks later…
Hah-ah-hah-ah-hah-ah—
“Hey, mouthbreather!” Leo scowled down at Meat, who was sitting beside the creaky old wooden chair that went with the creaky old wooden writing desk pushed into the corner of the living room in the creaky old Wayfarer Island house. The fugly mutt was panting up at him, waiting for him to throw the tennis ball lying beside his left foot. “Why don’t you go bug Mason, huh?”
Meat cocked his head and licked his ridiculous underbite.Woof!
Cock-a-doodle-doo!Li’l Bastard answered from somewhere outside.
“Oh, for chrissakes.” Leo bent to retrieve the ball. Meat spun in happy circles, stopping suddenly and staring toward the hall leading to the kitchen when Leo faked a toss. Meat looked up to find the fuzzy, yellow ball still in Leo’s hand and growled. “Not as dumb as you look, are you?”
He threw the ball, watching it bounce down the hallway. Meat raced after it, slipping and sliding on the polished wood floor. When both bulldog and ball disappeared, Leo turned back to the laptop and the email he was finishing. This was the sixth such missive he’d typed to Olivia since that momentous day—which his friends had since termed Whackass Wednesday. This email pretty much said the same thing the others had.Idon’t feel like things are finished between us. I’d really like to see you. Please call me as soon as you can.But unlike the previous emails, he ended this one withIfIdon’t hear from you by next week, I’m coming to Washington.
Not that he really thought that last part would persuade her to answer, but he was grasping at straws here. He hadn’t been able to call her since she didn’t have a landline, and there was no way to find her secured encrypted cellular number. All the calls he’d made to Langley had resulted in the same message: “Special Agent Mortier can’t take your call. We’ll relay your message.”Click.
He kicked himself in the ass for waiting four whole days before trying to contact her after she turned tail and walked away from him, wondering for the zillionth time if she was simply ignoring his emails, or if during those days when he’d been incommunicado she’d been assigned a mission to parts unknown.
And speaking of those four days… They’d been complete and utter hell. He’d been a wreck. Abrokenheartedwreck. Spending the evenings drinking Budweiser and staring sullenly into the ocean or the beach bonfire. Devoting every minute of every day to going back over everything she’d ever said to him. Every look she’d ever given him. Every second of their time together. Wondering how the frickin’ shit he could have misread her so completely.
But at the end of those four days, he came to the mind-blowing conclusion hehadn’tmisread her. He may’ve missed the mark in Syria, but he hadn’t missed the mark in theBlackGold’s bathroom, by God! The womancaredabout him. A lot. He reckoned she might even love him.
And either she thought he could never feel the same way about her after all that had happened, or she was just so used to being rejected by the people in her life that she was falling back on old habits and rejecting him first. Either way, she was deadeye wrong. And he aimed to prove it to her.
Ifshewouldjustanswermygoddamnedemails!
That is if shecouldanswer his emails. If she wasn’t in some desert hut somewhere, surrounded by unfriendlies and—
Shit. Now his stomach was in knots.
Fuckit.He hit Send.
“Writing another email, eh,paisano?”
Leo turned to find Bran leaning against the propped-open front door. The gentle sea breeze played at his back and teased the ragged hems of his swim trunks. “Me?” Leo snorted. And because he was a guy and didn’t want totalkabout it, and also because he was a guy and couldn’t resist turning the tables on his best friend, he said, “You’re one to talk. How many times a day do you email Miss Maddy Powers, huh?”
Bran acknowledged Leo’s quick conversational reversal with a flattened expression, but didn’t call him on it. Instead, admitting, “Too many damn times.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and offered Leo a sheepish grin. “I can’t help myself. The woman isfunnyand…and…challenging, I guess. Trying to outwit her has sorta become an addiction.”
Leo lifted a brow, chewing thoughtfully on a wad of Big Red. “That sounds serious,” he mused.
“Hell no,” Bran scoffed. “It’s fun is what it is. There’s nothing physical. No strings. No pesky feelings or emotions to deal with. Just…friends.”
Leo stopped chewing to narrow his eyes. “Since when have youeverbeen friends with a woman, Brando?”
Bran shrugged. “Since Maddy Powers, I guess. First time for everything.”
“Hmm.” Leo didn’t buy it. Especially since he and Olivia had started out asjustfriends, teasing and taunting and one-upping each other. And look wherethathad landed them…
Withherignoringmyemails.Because even if shewason assignment, surely she would’ve had the chance at some point to check her account, right? Although, maybe it was possible—
“But, yo…” Bran interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve got something that’ll takebothour minds off the fairer sex.”
