Deliberate Deceptions: Hauberk Protection, Book 3 (7 page)

So he hadn’t known it would be Lauren he was escorting either. “It’s okay. You were following protocol. You couldn’t call me. I understand.”

Troy pushed away from the door and wandered into the room. “Helluva a shock for me too when I recognized her.”

He’d recognized her? “How did you know her? You’ve never met her before.”

There was a long pause. When Troy responded he didn’t look at Chad, and he kept his voice low. “I know about the picture you keep in your desk.” He finally looked up. “I wasn’t trying to snoop but you were off somewhere—at some meeting with a client or something and we needed a file. Sandy wasn’t there so I went through your desk.”

Ah. Here he’d been thinking…who knows what he’d been thinking. “Don’t worry about it.”

There was another pause. “Are you leaving in the morning?”

In other words, was Troy to take over?

Would Troy keep Lauren safe? Of course. So why the hesitation in telling Troy he’d already asked to be transferred? “It’s under consideration. I tried to get a hold of Sam earlier, but I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

“Maybe he’s trying to smooth things over with Rosie for cancelling their vacation.”

Which meant they were probably jumping each other’s bones on the desk. Or in that fucking huge shower.

Maybe he was just jealous that Sam’s love life had finally come together. Damned stubborn bastard had been closing himself off since Jill’s death; it was good to see him finally find someone to love again. Which brought Chad right back around to his original hunch—he’d been set up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Chad closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

He opened his eyes and shot Troy a hard glare. “Is this some way he’s come up with to try to force me to get over her? Or get her out of my system or something?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.” Troy met his gaze evenly, his voice unaffected. If he’d been anyone else Chad would swear he was telling the truth, but Troy was a consummate liar.

“Why would Weir come to Hauberk if he knew Lauren and I had been married? No one in their right mind would go to an ex-husband to protect a woman.” He ran through their conversation again. “No. It’s too coincidental.”

“And you don’t like coincidences.” Troy took a deep breath but not once did he break Chad’s gaze. “I know you don’t believe me right now but swear to God, I had no idea it would be your ex that I’d be escorting.” Instead of shutting the fuck up, Troy continued, “You’re a better man than me. If it had been my ex, I would have shown her the gate and told her to fend for herself.”

He’d considered it. Seriously. Heaven help him if he had to be around her another day. Now he’d had a taste of her, a reminder of what she felt like around him, his dick had taken over his thinking and was seriously planning the various ways he could get her horizontal next time. Not good. “Look, since you’re planning on hanging around a couple extra days anyway, why don’t I just head back to D.C. now?”

Troy’s gaze might have been a laser beam from the look he shot him. “You still fancy her, don’t you?”

Fancy her? He’d just jerked off fantasizing about her; that was a big affirmative. “We’re divorced.”

“That’s just a piece of paper, isn’t it?” Troy tapped his chest. “But here, inside. That part of you wants another go at her, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

Annoyed at the line of thought Troy’s questions were taking, he stomped into the bathroom and picked up his razor, packing it neatly in its case. When had he decided to leave in the morning whether he’d heard from Sam or not?

“From the looks of your neck, I’d say you may have already had another go at her.” Troy had followed him, damn it, and now leaned against the doorframe.

A glance in the mirror revealed Lauren had left a mark on his neck. Damn it, why hadn’t he seen that earlier? Because he was too damned busy whacking off. He grabbed the toothpaste and toothbrush and tucked them into their compartment. “Why are you so interested anyway? What the fuck is it to you?”

Troy moved aside when Chad pushed past, trailing him to the bedroom like a goddamned lost puppy. “I may not have been married, but I do know a thing or two about women and how they wind up a man’s guts.”

Maybe Troy knew about fucking them, but he knew jackshit about keeping them. Then again what did Chad know? He was batting O for one right now, wasn’t he? “I’m not about to go crawling back on my hands and knees. She was damned clear she didn’t want anything to do with me. She thought…”

Troy waited a long moment before prompting, “What did she think?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, though doesn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Unwilling to slog through that emotional swampland, Chad shrugged one shoulder. “She put up with a lot of shit when we were married. Not to mention how the press dragged her through the mud right along with me. Everyone at the bureau thought she’d known what I’d done and had helped cover it up. They made it impossible for her to work there anymore so she ended up having to quit. Even in our personal life—friends she’d had since high school dumped her because of what the press was saying about us.”

He’d already lost her by then. She’d pulled away from him after Emily’s death. He’d not realized why until that last big fight. By then it had been too late to do anything.

“I’d say they weren’t good friends if they walked away when she needed them.”

It took Chad a moment to realize what Troy was talking about. “It doesn’t matter. Lauren was right. It was my fault the marriage didn’t work.”

Chad walked to the window and stared out, assessing the guards patrolling the grounds.
What were the guards he couldn’t see doing? Were they alert to their surroundings? Or were they goofing off, texting their girlfriends or playing some game they’d downloaded on their cell phone?

“Do you really believe that? That it was your fault?”

“I’m the one who fucked up. I’m the reason she ended up with her picture splashed over the fucking tabloids.” How they’d managed to get that video of the two of them in their bedroom he still hadn’t discovered.

“Bugger that,” Troy snarled. “Stop feeling so goddamned sorry for yourself, man. From what I’ve heard, there was nothing you could have done to have saved your daughter’s life. People die and most times there’s nothing you can do about it but suck it up and move on.”

Chad whirled to face him. “You’re preaching to the choir about death. I know all about it. My father was killed in the line of duty—shot by a goddamned drug addict during a routine traffic stop. My mother was murdered eight years later.” He clenched his fists “Less than a year after Emily died, my sister got shot. She may not be dead but she’s in a wheelchair because I couldn’t protect her. So do not talk to me about how
people die
.”

“Take your head out of your goddamned arse for once and stop blaming yourself. You were, what, eleven when your father was killed? There is no way you can blame yourself for that. You were living in Boston when that sick bastard lured your mother into showing him that home she had up for sale. There was nothing you could have done to have helped. There was nothing anyone could have done. As for your daughter, her death wasn’t your fault either. It is what it is. Stop blaming yourself.”

It is what it is.
How he hated that phrase. Nothing was as it should be. The anger, the ire, drained from Chad as if Troy had pulled a plug, leaving him with an emptiness that was even worse. “I keep thinking I should have seen something, some sign.”

Troy squeezed his shoulder. “Lauren feels the same way. Not about you being responsible, but that she should have seen something too. You two need to talk before you leave, about that if nothing else.”

“How would you know?”

“I just do.”

They’d been stuck on a plane together for hours with nothing to do. If Troy had recognized her, maybe they’d talked. He closed the cover on his suitcase and zipped it shut.
Stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.

What about tomorrow night? Or last night? Or the night before? She’d been the one to run away last time, now he was walking away from her. Self-preservation, instinct, he didn’t know which was placing the suitcase by the door, but he’d be damned if he’d let her rip his heart from his chest again.

Maybe that was the question he should be asking himself: why did she still have the power to hurt him after all these years?

“Because you still love her. More’s the pity.”

He stared at Troy. “What?”

“You asked how she still had the power to hurt you.”

He’d said that out loud?

“I know you look at that picture in your desk a half dozen times a day. You still love her.” Troy tapped the top of Chad’s suitcase. “So, what are you going to do about it? You going to run? Because that hasn’t worked for either of you so far, has it?”

Chapter Seven

From the brightness of the clouds overhead, the sun was up on the other side of the mountains, though it had yet to reach the lower edges of the hill. A thick mat of pine needles and already-fallen leaves littered the path, crunching beneath her feet as Lauren jogged along the path. She ducked beneath an overhanging branch, taking care to make sure it didn’t fling back into her companion’s face.

She’d hoped to slip out of her room that morning without anyone noticing. But as soon as her door had opened, Andy had stepped out. The lack of time between his door opening and hers made her wonder if he’d been listening for her. Then she noticed the camera mounted on the wall opposite her door. Not listening. Watching.

She glanced back to assess him. Like her, he’d dressed for the occasion, although his holster held a Glock whereas hers had a Sig Sauer. Something about the way he carried himself told her he’d not be afraid to use it. An intricate full-arm tattoo flowered from beneath his tee’s sleeve, stopping just above the wrist. Probably so it wouldn’t show beneath a dress shirt. “How far do you normally run?”

Andy ducked beneath a tree branch before he answered, “About five K. I run more on the weekends.”

They’d run the perimeter of the compound—or the estate, as Chad referred to it—twice, which meant they were approaching the length of a regular run for them both. Although there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, Andy wasn’t breathing hard yet, which gave her the impression “more” probably meant he ran marathons. What impressed her most was that they weren’t running on a smooth city sidewalk. The rough trail they followed wound its way up and down the side of the…well, it was more than a hill but less than a mountain. They were high enough that the air was thinner than in D.C. Not as thin as in Colombia, but Andy wasn’t showing any signs of having trouble getting enough oxygen.
 

Face it
, she told herself,
the man was in shape
. Chad had chosen his people well.

Pounding on the track behind them had her turning and ducking behind the nearest tree. Her hand was still reaching for her holster when she realized Andy already had his gun drawn and his body placed between her and whoever was intent upon catching them. Two seconds later, Troy jogged into sight and Andy lowered his weapon. “Hey, boss, what’s up?”

Troy hardly looked at his man as he spoke, his focus completely on Lauren. “I’ll take over here. Why don’t you get some grub?”

His gun holstered, Andy nodded and sprinted off toward the main house.

Lauren stepped back onto the path, watching him disappear down the hill. “He’s good.”

“He is. Damned good. But I wasn’t the one who hired him initially. That was all your ex-husband’s doing.” With the emphasis on ex. “Thought you should know—Chad’s asked to be reassigned.”

Shit.
“You can’t let him leave. Not if you want him to stay alive.”

His hand slapped arrhythmically against his thigh as he stared off in the distance, no doubt considering the same ramifications and alternatives they’d already gone over. “How long do you think you’re going to be able to fool him?”

“Hopefully until we catch Harris.”

He turned a bland look on her. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

This was not a conversation she wanted to have. With a sigh, and a silent prayer that Troy wouldn’t follow, Lauren reversed her course.

“Running won’t help. I want an answer and I want it now.”

“I’ll answer your question once we’re farther away. I don’t want Chad overhearing this conversation.” She pushed on, speeding up if he got too close. The muscles in Lauren’s legs ached, protesting each step she took as the path led back up the side of the hill.

“You’re not going to lose me if that’s what you’re hoping,” he said finally, not even breathing heavily, goddamn him. “Now tell me, when are you going to tell him the truth?”

“After we neutralize the threat.” Then she’d lock them both in her room until he agreed to give their marriage another chance. Or he’d convinced her there was no way she deserved one. Which was more likely.

He slapped at the branch she’d pushed out of her way but threatened to hit him. “Why don’t you just tell him the truth? It’s his life—he should get a choice in how it plays out.”

“So why didn’t you say something to him in the office when the arrangements were being made? You could have told him last night too, but you didn’t.” If he had, Chad wouldn’t be sleeping at the desk in his bedroom the way he had been when she’d checked on him.

Troy cursed again. “Let’s get this straight; I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for him. Poor bugger’s been through enough without Cooper and you playing mind games on him. He’s had enough of that, don’t you think?”

She’d had enough mind games to last her a lifetime. Thalia’s. Cooper’s. Was that what she was doing to Chad? Manipulating him? No. Other than keeping him safe, once Harris was found, she’d accept whatever decision he made. For better or worse. She ducked under an overhanging branch. “It’s not a game.”

He grabbed her and forced her to face him. “You know what I don’t get? You work for an organization that’s sanctioned both by the feds and the U.N. for all you try to claim it’s not associated with any of them. Which means you probably have a safe house or two of your own hidden away. Why not just grab Chad and protect him yourselves?”