He gaped.
“After all that, you got back up after and you’re firmer in your convictions and faith.”
He wasn’t so sure, but … “I’m trying.”
“That’s all we can do.” She nodded, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “See you tomorrow.” She laughed. “I love that I can say that now. Night, son.”
“Night.” He saw her into the condo, then rounded the corner and saw a man standing by the front desk.
Wearing khakis and a black shirt, revealing his sleeve of tattoos, none other than??— “Taggart.”
His buddy turned, grinning. “Big Guy!” He pulled him into a shoulder hug and patted his back. “Look at you. What’s with the ten-gallon hat and face fur?”
“You can talk.” Nudging his brim up, Stone scruffed the guy’s shaved head. “You had more hair than a camel last time I saw you.”
“I was mistaken for one many times, too.” Taggart laughed but it sounded … empty. “Thanks for letting us come.”
Us. Stone glanced around the empty foyer. “Your friend?”
Taggart thumbed toward the restrooms. “Long trip and bladders needed emptying.” He pursed his lips. “If it’s a’right, Low and I will crash then head out first thing.”
“Lowell’s here, too?” What was this? A reunion?
Taggart’s laugh sounded hollow as he shifted.
Warning claxons blared in Stone’s mind as he glanced toward the restrooms, then his friend. “What’s going on?”
Someone exited the restrooms??—a woman, who was now hugging the water fountain between the two doors. Her clothes were baggy, her hair strangely haloed beneath the dome light. Yet, she was … familiar.
Taggart glanced at him, the woman, then back to him. Like he was worried.
“What???—?”
She turned.
Stone’s breath punched from his lungs. A stinging wash of ice shocked his veins. He took a step back. “No,” he growled, turning to Cord. “No! You did not??—You piece of??—”
“Listen??—”
“No.” Hands fisted, he could not believe this.
It wasn’t happening. He’d left office. Left her. Did everything they asked. No, he wasn’t retreating.
Stone shifted and surged toward her. “Get out.” No way she was ruining his life a second time. “Get out!”
She recoiled, angling toward the burly mass of muscle called Lowell, who cradled her in place as her complexion went white, panicked.
Taggart hurried forward. “Please, Stone. She needs a place.”
“No! She can buy her way into someplace else.” Stone shoved his friend away. “You sorry??—” His pulled back his fist, aimed it at Taggart. Heard a shout. Caught himself. Cursed his friend. Shoved him again. Stepped back, his mind operating in slow-mo.
Hearing the roar of his heart, the rage coursing through his system, Stone looked at her. Glowered, but then exulted. At least this time, she was the one cowering. He pivoted on his heels, storming away from the lobby. “Get her out of here!”
Chapter
Five
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
