Heart in Wire: A by a Thread Companion Novel (20 page)

“Okay,” she looked at her phone, “I’ve gotta get to yoga.”

“Okay.”

“Run in the morning?”

“Sure.”

She looked at him for a long moment before turning and walking away. Patrick looked away from her ass and breasts that were on display. When he glanced back at her, he saw the tattoo that he hated; it taunted him.

Patrick was losing control of his always-in-control emotions. His heart sped up when he saw her. When they ran in the morning, he couldn’t keep his mind from wondering what it would be like to push her into the grass, peel off her running gear, and plunge into her. It wasn’t fair to Millie, it wasn’t fair to him. He knew El was with George. And she thought she loved George, which made it more evident he needed to leave. It would be the opportunity to break things off with Millie. She deserved someone who loved her like she needed to be loved. Patrick didn’t understand why it couldn’t be him, but he was just wasting her time now. He struggled with the knowledge that while he wanted to love Millie, he was desperately in love with El. He kept hoping that one day he would wake up and things would click into place—that he’d love Millie the way he loved El now and El would be a distant memory. Every day he woke up with the ache in his chest because he knew it wouldn’t happen.

Patrick was hoping he got the transfer and fast. He could lie…as a matter of fact, he was a good liar, but not to her. Not anymore.

Patrick was sitting on the couch, watching the Steelers game and drinking a beer. He was mindlessly flipping the beer top in between his fingers as he was watching the Steelers make their way down the field toward a touchdown. It wouldn’t be much longer now…he was going to have to put Plan C in play and he didn’t want to do it. His mind raced with the possibilities: (1) Jamie could not take the bait; (2) he could fail and El would get hurt; (3) he could walk away from this entire situation, move to Atlanta, let it play out and El would get hurt; or (4) he could do it and this all would be over, he’d move to Atlanta, he and Millie would end things amicably and remain friends.

Millie was a beacon of light these past few years. She lit up everywhere she went with this exuberant, glowing happiness or goodness or something he couldn’t quite put his finger on because he wasn’t happy or good or full of light.

His phone rang with an undisclosed number.

“Billy?” he answered.

“So, I put a birdie in Harris’ ear.”

“I thought you were out of the country.” Sometimes Patrick wondered what it was like to be Billy, always on the move and having nothing to tie him down.

“I had to pop back to Langley and guess who I just happened to run into?”

“So…”

“Well, I just happened to bring up the Falcons-Redskins game, which led to me telling him that you’re going to party with Jesse McIntyre. Of course, I’m busy with this fucking mission so I couldn’t go…and that led into me being so concerned about Stella and Millie being on their own with Jamie out and about.”

“And?” Patrick burst out. “It’s like pulling fucking teeth, dude.”

“Well, he was very jealous of the fact that you’re friends with Jesse McIntyre.”

“Billy…seriously, my heart cannot take what you’re doing right now.”

“Interestingly enough, he lives near Old Town now.”

“If I knew where you were I would come there and kick your ass.”

“Fuck, calm down, Mary…he sympathized and I could tell he filed the information away. I don’t know what he’ll do with it, but I put it out there.”

“Okay, well I guess you’re right. We’ll see.”

“That guy’s a total douche.”

“Why’s that?”

“I love that FBI agents think they’re the smartest people in the room at all times. It makes me want to sit down with a bag of popcorn and watch him lose his shit when he learns he can’t touch Jamie.”

“Well, we’ve all thought we knew more than we did at the time.”

“Not me. I’m brilliant and I really am the smartest in the room at any given time. That includes our house too, if you were questioning that.”

Chapter Seventeen

WOULD YOU KILL TO SAVE A LIFE?

He woke up in Jesse’s guest room, which was bigger than Billy’s entire house. The reality of what he planned to do that day caused him to close his eyes again.
He would do this.
Patrick would make this right and move on, just like he planned. His strategy during the last month was to take steps toward this plan without actually thinking about the outcome. It was working so far, he didn’t have to think about how he would feel with Jamie’s blood on his hands, again, but now that it was go time, he was having trouble staying detached.

It’s not that he had a problem shooting criminals, he’d been trained to do just that. It was the fact that Jamie used to ride with him to games and they’d sit together and talk about pitches. The fact that Jamie’s parents sort of adopted Patrick after his brother was shot and took him to every game because he was Jamie’s catcher. The relationship between a pitcher and catcher is hard to explain. The pitcher was the one who actually pitched, but the catcher was the brain behind the pitches. The catcher held the pitcher up, talked the pitcher through tough spots, and made the pitcher better. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the reminder that he failed Jamie. He’d recruited him to the ATF and didn’t protect him.

That’s not who he is anymore
. Patrick couldn’t count how many times he’d had to say that to himself over the past year.
Jamie isn’t Jamie anymore. Jamie Rivers is long gone.

When he opened his eyes again, he took in the bold blue walls and masculine artwork. A mahogany desk sat in the corner, overlooking the golf course. The floors were hardwood, but looked almost black. There were several books on the bedside table, John Grisham and Brad Meltzer. He wondered if Millie had read them yet. One of his favorite things about her was how smart she was and that she was always reading something. Sometimes she’d read him really hot sex scenes in books and then they’d act them out.

His most favorite thing about Millie was that she wasn’t jaded like he, Billy, and El were. She didn’t look at everything with tainted eyes. She trusted people and didn’t lie and expected others to do the same. He admired that trait about her and he wished it never changed.

One of the things he’d miss the most about her were their conversations. They could talk about anything from one of her books to his ATF investigation. They were on the same side politically, but still had lively debates that sometimes Billy would join. He’d miss his life in DC.

He would miss her…miss what he wanted to have with her, miss her touch and the easiness of being with her. Sighing, he got out of bed and walked down the hall into the kitchen, where he found a woman making coffee and egg whites. She was dressed in black slacks and a white button down shirt and made him feel uncomfortable in his t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

“Mr. Greer, Mr. McIntyre wanted me to make you breakfast. He apologizes for having to be at the practice field for some of the day.” The woman’s black hair was pulled up into a bun, showing her kind eyes. “He also left this for you.” She pushed some papers at him and car keys.

“What’s this?” Patrick wondered aloud, pulling the papers to him across the counter. It was a map with handwriting on it. He read it in disbelief. Jesse had gotten him a massage and was letting him drive one of his three cars, a BMW. This guy was nuts.

The woman slid a plate across the counter at Patrick too, then a mug of coffee.

“Thanks, Sandra.”

Damn, he could get used to this. He sat down and forced everything out of his mind except for what would be done tonight. On Monday, he’d give his notice, accept the transfer, and would be headed back to Atlanta. El would be safe, they’d be even, and he would escape it all.

“Mr. McIntyre, I have your VIP area right over here.” The hostess gave them a gigantic smile when they walked into the swanky nightclub where Jesse had planned his VIP party.

They followed her back to an area that was already swarming with attractive women, all clad in very short, extremely tight things.

Both he and Jesse were dressed in all black. He’d picked his outfit based on the ease of getting in and out of it, and it was dressy enough for this nightclub. Jesse had on a black button down shirt with sleeves that cuffed, showing a black and white design on the cuffs. They gave their coats to the hostess, who took them to the coat check. Patrick would have to suffer through the cold from the club to the car to the plane, but that was okay; he wanted to leave another little breadcrumb of his presence at the club.

Yesterday morning he’d left a rental car in the parking deck of National Airport with everything he needed in the trunk.

“Mr. McIntyre, is everything to your satisfaction?” a very voluptuous, exotic woman with long black hair asked him.

“Sofia, it’s great to see you and yes, it’s great.” Jesse pulled the woman in for a hug. “This is my friend, Patrick. Get used to seeing him; he’s moving this way soon.”

Patrick shook her hand and she smiled, giving him the once over.

“It’s early for you tonight?” the woman said in question.

“Oh, Patrick and I wanted to grab some food before the party and just figured we’d eat here,” Jesse answered.

“Okay, well, Damon is going to be your personal server tonight, so if you need anything just ask him. Okay?”

“What if I wanted you to be my personal server?” Jesse flirted.

“Mr. McIntyre,” she slapped Jesse’s arm, “you’re a mess.”

“What?” He feigned innocence. “Not me!”

Patrick observed Jesse in awe; he had a charisma about him that drew people in. It also appeared to Patrick that Jesse was a pretty sincere person. El immediately liked Jesse (and she didn’t like anyone) and George trusted him as well. Even though he didn’t like George, he did seem to be a good judge of people.

“I’ll serve you later.” She winked and left them in their VIP area.

“Nice,” Patrick commented.

“Very nice.” Jesse nodded. He turned toward the roped-off area, grinning, and walked into the VIP area. “LADIES!” he greeted them with open arms.

Everyone crowded around him and Patrick understood immediately why Jesse was sort of a homebody; he had to rent out a room just to go out and not be bothered. Jesse got out his phone and started taking pictures of everyone, making sure he got some of Patrick for later.

“Drink?” the server asked Patrick.

“Yes, I’d like tonic water with a lime please.”

The next hour was full of him and Jesse posing for pictures, not just with the people in the VIP area, but others in the club. Patrick tried to photo bomb all the pictures that others were taking of Jesse he could without being obnoxious; he knew these would be all over the internet soon enough.

At 9:00 pm sharp, he walked out of the club and found Frank’s car waiting for him. It was just the beginning of a very long, fucked up night.

All he felt was his heartbeat. He felt it in his eyes, in his chest, and in his head. He tried not to think about Jamie, about knowing Jamie basically his entire fucking life. Patrick kept reminding himself about what Jamie did to El and what he would do if he wasn’t stopped. He’d shot her, kidnapped her, and was coming back for more. If Patrick didn’t end this, Jamie would. He could tell in Jamie’s demeanor at the office and his fucking arrogance. He’d basically said as much too.