Midnight Action (35 page)

Two days later

Cate poked her head into her father’s office, clutching a white envelope in her hands. “Do you have any stamps?” she asked. “I need to mail a letter.”

Although he nodded absently, his blue eyes never left the computer screen. Cate suspected he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

They’d been spending a lot of time together since he’d gotten back from the hospital in San José, but the distracted cloud that surrounded him refused to disperse. She knew he was thinking about Noelle, but he hadn’t mentioned the woman since she’d pulled a disappearing act at the hospital. An orderly claimed that he’d seen her getting into a taxi wearing bright green scrubs, but Noelle hadn’t gone back to the compound, not even to get her purse.

Cate had no idea how the woman had managed to leave the country, but her father had received confirmation yesterday that Noelle was back in Paris.

“Morgan? Did you hear me?”

He tore his gaze off the monitor and glanced over at her, and as usual, she experienced a burst of relief that he was here with her, safe, alive. Every time she looked at him she remembered how he’d almost died last week, and no part of her regretted the decision to pull the trigger and shoot Nikolaus. In that moment, she’d chosen to save her father’s life instead of the man who’d raised her, and she refused to feel badly about it.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I asked if you had stamps. I need to send a letter.”

Cate’s throat clogged up as she stared at the address she’d scrawled on the envelope. She knew Gabriel’s mother would be happy to get the letter. They’d spoken on the phone a few times since Cate had left Paris, and Joséphine had been overjoyed to learn that Cate was all right. Word of Maurice Durand’s death had spread like wildfire through the city, and now his household staff was scrambling to find other jobs. Cate would have loved to send Gabriel’s parents some of her own money, but her grandfather’s funds had been frozen, thanks to his criminal activities, and she probably wouldn’t inherit a dime from him.

But Morgan had been happy to write her a check to send to the Traver family; it was currently tucked inside the envelope she held in her hand.

“Leave it here with me,” he said, sounding distracted again. “I’ll make sure it gets sent.”

His gaze returned to the computer, and then he clicked the mouse and the printer on the table behind him hummed to life.

With hesitant steps, Cate came forward and perched herself on the edge of his desk. “So...has she contacted you?”

Morgan shook his head, and Cate’s heart ached when she saw the flicker of pain in his eyes.

The other day, he’d finally told her all about his history with Noelle. He’d admitted just how much he loved the woman, and it made Cate sad that Noelle had left him. But Morgan insisted that he’d deserved it, that Noelle was too scared to trust him again and he had nobody to blame but himself.

“Well, aren’t you going to do something about it?” Cate asked in irritation.

“Of course I am.”

He looked surprised that she’d even asked, which in turn surprised her. “Really?”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Cate, there’s one thing you need to know about your old man, which is that he doesn’t give up. Ever. When he wants something, he damn well gets it.”

She found herself laughing. “Good to know. So then what’s the plan?”

“Well, my heartfelt speech went nowhere, so it’s time to bust out the sweeping romantic gesture.”

To punctuate that, he pointed to the sheet of paper that had just popped out of the printer.

Curious, Cate wandered over and lifted the paper out of the tray.

She blanched the second she looked at it, then spun around to gape at her father. “Are you frickin’ kidding me?”

He wrinkled his brow. “What?”

“
This
is your idea of a romantic gesture?”

Morgan gave her a faint smile. “Trust me, Noelle will get it.”

“This is going to backfire horribly,” she grumbled.

His grin faded, but the determination in his eyes burned strong. “I guess we’ll find out.”

•   •   •

“Okay, this is getting annoying.” Bailey cornered Liam outside his room at the Paris penthouse, folding her arms over her chest as she fixed him with a stern look. As usual, the woman didn’t beat around the bush. “Things aren’t going to change if you two dumb-asses keep acting like nothing happened.”

Liam ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “It’s too early in the morning to have this convo, B.”

“Tough shit,
L
.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve done my damnedest to try and help you these past few days, and all you’ve done in return is be a stubborn ass.”

She was right. Ever since that terrifying, unexpected kiss in the guest room, the tension levels between Liam and his teammate had skyrocketed. To make matters worse, Morgan had ordered them to stay in Paris to monitor any fallout from the mission, which meant Liam couldn’t flee the city like he desperately wanted to. Luckily, the boss had finally given them the green light to come home, putting an end to the excruciating discomfort Liam had been plagued with for days.

He and Sully still hadn’t exchanged a single word about the kiss, though Bailey had been going out of her way to fix that. The woman had dragged them to a hundred places—tourist romps, restaurants, more than a few bars. Her endless energy and laid-back personality had succeeded in easing some of the tension between them, but it hadn’t resulted in any sort of discussion regarding the fact that Liam’s best friend had
kissed him
.

And he’d
liked
it.

Lord. His stomach churned each time he thought about it, unleashing panic and apprehension he’d never experienced before in his life.

That queasy feeling arose now as he met Bailey’s eyes. “I’m...” He swallowed. Lowered his voice to a barely audible pitch. “I’m not gay.”

She sighed, her expression softening. “Is that what all this avoidance is about?”

He nodded weakly.

“C’mere.” She tugged him into the bedroom and shut the door, then cupped his cheeks with her hands. “I get it, okay? You want to do your buddy and it’s freaking you out—I don’t blame you one bit. But being attracted to him doesn’t mean you have to make any monumental life changes.” Her lips twitched. “Look, I think we can agree that there are hundreds of women who can vouch for your heterosexuality.”

Liam grinned. “Damn right.”

“So yeah, maybe you’re straight. Maybe you’re bi, or gay, or maybe this attraction you’re feeling toward Sullivan is just plain old curiosity. Either way, you’ll never know for sure unless you
talk
to him about it.”

The grin faded fast. “What do I even say?”

Bailey shrugged. “Tell him you liked the kiss. Tell him you want to do it again.” Another shrug. “Or tell him the opposite. Doesn’t really matter—just tell him
something
. You two can’t keep going around treating each other like strangers. You’re BFFs, for fuck’s sake.”

A heavy breath slid out of his chest. “You’re right.”

Approval shone in her eyes. “Of course I am. Now, get out there and talk to him.” To punctuate that, she gave his butt a little slap and nudged him toward the door.

Despite the excessive pounding of his heart, Liam managed to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You’re one in a million, B.” Then, before he could change his mind, he marched out of the room.

He found Sullivan on the living room couch, eyes glued to some French reality show flashing on the TV screen. In his cargo pants and wifebeater, the other man looked casual as hell, but there was nothing casual in his expression when he lifted his head.

“Hey,” Sullivan said gruffly.

“Hey.” Clearing his throat, Liam headed for the sofa. He settled on the opposite end and met his friend’s gaze. “So...listen...I wanted to apologize for—”

“No,” Sully cut in.

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You have no reason to apologize, mate.” Embarrassment reddened Sullivan’s cheeks. “I’m the one who needs to say sorry. I...um...Oh bloody hell, I’m sorry for doing what I did, okay? I was all wound up from the boss’s sex fest, and pissed off about being ignored, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Liam opened his mouth to interject, but his friend wasn’t done.

“I know you’re not into blokes, and I’m an asshole for doing what I did,” Sullivan hurried on, sounding sheepish as hell. “Sometimes I forget that not everyone is on board for all the kinky shit I’m into. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I’m sorry.”

Liam’s throat turned to dust. There were so many things he wanted to say.

It’s all right. I wanted it too.

I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.

I don’t know what the hell is going on with me.

But the words refused to exit his mouth. All he seemed capable of doing was sitting there in silence.

“So...” Sullivan searched his face. “Are we cool?”

Liam drew an unsteady breath, difficult to do when his chest felt so damn tight. He thought about Bailey’s advice,
knew
he should follow it, but...goddamn it, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t fucking ready.

So instead, he took the out that Sullivan had dangled in front of him.

He nodded, met his friend’s eyes, and said, “Yeah. We’re cool.”

* * *

Noelle zipped up her suitcase and rolled it toward the door, then did a quick scan of the guest room to make sure she had everything. She was eager to leave, but since she wasn’t planning on coming back anytime soon, she couldn’t afford to leave anything behind.

And God, “eager” didn’t even begin to describe her need to flee. She was a loner, and she didn’t fare well with others crowding her personal space, especially when they were two men who reminded her of Jim.

For some irritating reason, Sullivan Port and Liam Macgregor were still at the penthouse, despite the numerous not so subtle hints Noelle had dropped about them not being welcome. Bailey, however, seemed to want them around, and the trio had been spending a lot of time together, seeing the sights, enjoying the Paris nightlife. Which was equally perplexing, because Bailey was a loner too.

Just like her.

Yep, they were both loners. Destined to be alone forever.

Oh, stop the pity party. You’re better than that.

She was, wasn’t she? And besides, hadn’t she just had an opportunity to change her loner status? Hadn’t Jim all but poured his heart out to her?

And like the coldhearted bitch she was, she’d walked away from him.

Still, as guilty as she felt about deserting the man after he’d opened his heart to her, she found his naïveté so damn infuriating. How could he possibly believe they were capable of having a real future? They’d hurt each other too many times over the years. She’d hated Jim for so long she didn’t remember how to love him.

And even if she did believe, for one second, that he’d loved her all those years ago, they couldn’t go back. She wasn’t the young girl he’d fallen in love with. She’d changed, and definitely not for the better.

No, they weren’t destined for happily-ever-after. But at least she’d ensured that Jim could have a happily-ever-after with his kid.

Jim had Cate now, and Noelle couldn’t deny she liked the girl. Cate was strong and smart and fearless, and although Noelle got the feeling that the girl would be a handful, she figured Jim deserved a little gray hair.

A knock on the door made her sigh. “What do you want?” she called out to the intruder.

“Why so rude?” Sullivan popped through the door, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I thought we were buds now.”

“We are not, nor will we ever be, ‘buds.’” She shot him a cool look. “What do you want, Port?”

He held up a manila envelope. “This was just FedEx’d for you.”

Frowning, Noelle accepted the envelope, studied the return address, and handed it right back. “Not interested.”

She gripped the handle of her suitcase and headed for the door.

Sullivan swiftly intercepted her path with his six-foot-three frame. “Bloody hell. Why is every woman on the planet so bloody stubborn? Would it kill you to open it?”

“Would it kill you to get out of my way?”

“Yes.”

Noelle gritted her teeth. “Get out of the way.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and said, “Nope.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, am I going to have to pull out my knife?”

“You can if you want, but you’re still about to get some advice, whether or not I get stabbed.”

She blew out a breath. “Spit it out, then. I have a plane to catch.”

“You’re making a mistake,” he began.

“Sorry you feel that way. See you later.”

She tried to brush past him, but he sidestepped her. “Look, Liam has this theory—he thinks some people are hardwired to fuck one another.”

Noelle couldn’t help but snort.

“It’s chemistry,” Sullivan went on. “Bodies needing to screw. But I think the same thing applies to love.” He offered a sheepish look. “You can’t help who you fall for, love. And sometimes, the person you think is all wrong for you, well, they’re actually the right one.”

“Thank you, Ann Landers. Will you get out of my way now?”

“Fine, be stubborn. You’re the one who’ll wind up alone.”

“Story of my life, honey.”

“Whatevs.” With great annoyance, he dropped the envelope on top of her suitcase. “Just open the damn thing, would ya?” With that, he marched off, leaving her to stare at the envelope.

The familiar address, the scratchy male handwriting.

Goddamn him.

Couldn’t he leave well enough alone? They weren’t destined to be together. They’d fallen in love when they were kids. She, a foolish young girl who’d believed she’d found her knight. He, a soldier following orders.

Maybe he’d loved her. Maybe he hadn’t. It didn’t change everything that happened afterward, or erase all the years they’d spent plotting each other’s deaths.

They couldn’t come back from that, damn it. She knew it, and yet her curiosity only heightened as she gazed at the envelope.

Despite the warning bells going off in her head, Noelle picked up the envelope. She dug a fingernail under the flap and ripped it open, then extracted the single sheet of paper inside of it. God. Had he written her a love letter?