As soon as he walked past, I realized I’d been holding my breath. Just glancing at him over my shoulder allowed an almost wave of desire. Sighing, I took another sip of wine to counter my ridiculous emotions. This wasn’t a date. This was a man allowing a crazy woman to search for answers. Even though they might be right there where they’d been for years.
I loathed the self-doubt.
Protection.
At least I clung to being more protected than I’d been in a very long time. Since the last time he’d been close. All those years ago.
I hadn’t been prepared for the look in Maverick’s eyes after I’d told him the truth. While he’d listened as I’d described the less than thirty second phone call, I’d easily been able to see the building fury by how clenched his jaw had become and how he’d fisted his hand.
After that, he’d gone quiet, inviting me to head to his house.
Now, I stood in the opening of a doorway leading to an incredible deck with the most spectacular view of Miami Beach. A glass of wine was in my hand with my nerves frayed yet in some crazy way, I was secure, even excited. How crazy was that?
The sun had issued a sparkling blanket over the ocean water, shimmering in the pastel hues anointing the horizon. With the water creating ripples in the sand, I could easily remain mesmerized, pretending as if I belonged here.
Which I didn’t.
Maverick was simply being kind, fulfilling my request of scouring what information he’d kept about the case and nothing more. Now that I’d spouted off my belief, the idea seemed ridiculous. I was an attorney, for God’s sake. Just as I’d told him, I’d worked long and hard to get where I was, fighting panic attacks and setbacks along the way. Surrendering to the panic of possibly being followed was ridiculous.
But the treacherous feeling remained.
One phone call had wrecked my world. No, that had started the moment I’d opened the cover toGone Before Dawn. I’d been asking for trouble. Now, here I was in the house of a stranger, discussing what might be considered insanity.
Whatever happened, Maverick had thought enough of my story to bring me to his house and from what I’d seen, mission central. We’d taken a few minutes going over the evidence he’d procured before leaving the FBI, coupled with personal notes and photographs. Within ten minutes, immersing myself in the life had become too much.
I’d explored on my own, marveling in the incredible architecture, exquisite furniture and artwork that was befitting of his wealth and power within the publishing industry.
I hadn’t lied to him. I’d read four books written by the incredible author, devouring them in a week even with my busy schedule.
He had a brilliant mind, one that added creativity to cunningness. The combination was masterful both in prose and in his past life as serving as a member of law enforcement.
I’d once heard you could take a cop away from the business, but the skills, training, and desire to catch the bad guy never left.That’s the expression he’d worn as soon as I’d mentioned the call.
Just being able to enjoy the peaceful few minutes was amazing, a gift that I rarely offered myself. I was busy all the time, although I knew the reason why. Any idle time allowed for monsters to find cracks in my thick armor. Even now, just closing my eyes briefly was a mistake, huge enough I was jarred into being tense all over. Fuck the Python Killer. Fuck the system.
I fisted my mouth to keep from screaming.
His presence was established before he even walked into the living room by the scent of his aftershave wafting softly in the light breeze rolling across the water. Cedarwood with hints of exotic spice and a touch of citrus, fresh yet woodsy. As he approached, I realized I was indulging in his fragrance, taking deep breaths. Perhaps from uncertainty of what he’d say or maybe the extended reaction of my body to his.
When he stopped only a few feet away, I took the opportunity to walk out onto the deck, leaning over the railing. This wasn’t a date, merely a mingling of information and memories of a case long thought put to bed.
Yet I needed the breath of fresh air to clear my head.
As I leaned over the railing, I hated the feeling of being so lost and alone. As he’d done before, he stood watching me before joining me on the deck. He was taller than I’d remembered, his long legs filling out a pair of jeans like no other man I’d known.
He’d tossed his jacket over the couch as soon as he’d walked in, saying nothing while he headed for a decorative bar. His silence had spoken volumes, a man uncertain how to handle andprocess what I’d shared with him. No one else knew. Not my mother. Not my best friend.
Certainly not my boss.
Where there’d been tension before, now it was different, as if we’d crossed the getting to know you phase and drifted into something entirely forbidden.
“Samuel Wells’ execution date has been established. From what I’ve been told, there will be no interference by the governor, which was expected.”
“You’re not telling me something.”
He brought his drink to his lips, holding the glass close without drinking. “You tell me. You’re the attorney.” Another challenge, forcing me to piece together the loose fragments.
I thought about what he was insinuating. “Samuel’s attorney has no plans on filing an appeal. He will die as scheduled.”
