You're Mine, Maggie (5 page)

At first I had no idea what he could be referring to, and then it hit me. I swiveled my head toward the package Super Agent had brought in that had been sitting on my porch last night. There it sat on my coffee table in all its creepy glory. Super Agent followed my gaze, then stomped over—still gloriously, fantastically naked, my slut side pointed out—and picked up the box with his non-gun-toting hand.

I averted my eyes and swished a hand at him. “Would you put that thing away?”

“I don’t remembering you having an issue with guns.”

“Yeah, no. You should probably put your gun away too.”

He grunted a laugh and put the box back down. “Don’t touch that.”

While he went to cover himself up, I couldn’t stop myself from tiptoeing over to the coffee table for a closer look at the package. I didn’t recognize the neat block lettering. And unfortunately there was no return address like
Stalker McObsession, 1234 Crazy Drive, Insane Town, AZ (come and get me!)
. That would’ve been a tremendous help.

Super Agent came back with a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet clothes. “Can I put these in the dryer?”

Oh, right. I’d forgotten how he’d left his clothes in the tub when we’d erm…ah…you know. I took them from him and put them in to dry. When I got back he was sitting on the couch with the box open in front of him.

“Hey,” I said. “You’d think I’d get to open my own present. It’s not like I get very many.”

He scowled at me as I sat down next to him. “You mean like trips to Italy and jewelry?” Well, when he put it like that, I guess I did get the occasional bauble or two. “I’ll buy you a damn present. Or three,” he grumbled. He was so touchy on this subject. “
And
flowers.”

“Well, gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel all gooshy and special.”

“You think I like some sick fuck sending my girlfriend flowers and gifts?” He gestured toward the beautifully expensive box of chocolates nestled in gold tissue paper. “He’s making me look bad,” he complained.

That was the second time he’d called me that this week. We hadn’t discussed the particulars of our relationship, preferring to zigzag back and forth in the nebulous
Going Out but Not Formally Committed Even Though We’ve Slept Together
zone.

“So…I’m your girlfriend?”

He picked up a ropey strand of my hair and twisted it around his finger, bringing me closer. “You got a problem with that?”

I shrugged.

“Most women would’ve nailed that down weeks ago.”

“I’m not most women.”

“No kidding. Anyone ever tell you that you have intimacy issues?”

“Oh, do tell me about them, Mr. No-Talk-Unless-I-Absolutely-Have-To.”

“I’m a guy. We don’t do chat.”

I looked down to where his towel gaped, displaying how very much a guy he was. I pointed at his crotch. “You got a permit for that?”

He readjusted the towel. “What was I saying about intimacy issues?”

“I showed you intimate last night.”

“No. You showed me avoidance.” He released my hair and clasped my hand. “When are you going to talk about what happened yesterday?”

“I talked about it.”

“Not with me.”

“Can I eat the chocolates?”

“No.” He squeezed my hand. “Avoidance.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath.

“We’re going to have to report the email, missing items and the presents to the police. They might be able to track down your phone if he still has it.”

“Do I have to be here?” I wasn’t super excited to be in a room with cops again even though I’d essentially had one in my bed last night.

“Yes, but I’ll be with you.”

I nodded. “All right. If you’re there. But you can’t leave.”

“Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll take care of everything here.”

I got up and headed for the hall, then turned back. “Hey, ah…about last night. You gave me something better than any present. And I’m not talking about the—” I made a back-and-forth gesture between us, blushing like a virgin, “—you know. So…thanks. For that. And the other thing. The other thing was good too.” Clearly I didn’t excel at gratitude either. “You don’t have to buy me a gift. Not that I wouldn’t love getting presents from you just…you know…don’t kill anyone for me.”

Chapter Nine

The good news was that I found my cell phone and the FBI was getting involved. This was now a computer-hacking incident, as someone had hacked into my computer to send the email through my own account. The FBI being all up in my business—
again
—also might have had a little something to do with Super Agent being pissed off that a murdering bastard was hassling his girlfriend. And giving her presents. Would he ever let that go?

The bad news was that I found my cell phone and the FBI was getting involved. My voicemail was jam-packed with messages from reporters, salivating over the news of my arrest, the charges I’d brought against Cruz
and
the FBI’s involvement in Shasta’s murder. Evil ninjas! Everyone wanted a piece of me, including the FBI, which had taken my computer, my statement and way too much of my free time. More paperwork had been added to my brick-thick FBI file. Yay.

Daryl called to let me know that Stratford’s department store was still closed because of the ongoing investigation but would probably reopen tomorrow. So no work for me. Xavier wouldn’t stop texting me, much to Super Agent’s annoyance. My mother had gotten wind of my arrest and so I had to endure an endless lecture about responsibility and all the disgrace I’d brought down on the family. Of course no mention was made of my brother and
his
multiple brushes with the law. On top of all of that, Super Agent had taken it upon himself to hover over me like a nervous, new mother. Again.

This feeling of déjà vu was starting to feel all too familiar.

“Your place or mine?” Super Agent asked as we climbed into his car outside the Phoenix FBI office.

I was twitchy and on edge, having spent way more time with law-enforcement types than I could handle in the past couple of days. Even Super Agent was starting to scrape against my shredded nerves.

“I really just want to go home,” I answered.

“Okay, we’ll stop at my place and I’ll pack a bag.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Seemed kind of inconvenient given what was happening, but okaaayyyyy.

“I’m staying with you.”

“Whoa.” I put my hands up palms out. “Slow this ride down. Since when did knocking together and calling me your girlfriend mean moving in together?”

He ticked his points off on his hand. “This guy knows where you live. He’s stolen from you. He’s hacked into your email account. Who knows what else he knows about you and how he’s going to use it. He’s so obsessed with you he killed somebody for you.”

My slut side got distracted by his big hands, remembering how skilled they were. She wanted to know why I was turning down the chance to have those hands on me again. I was beginning to come around to her way of thinking. Almost. Maybe. Her argument was flawless.

My practical side threw a flag on the play.
Hello! Murderer after you! Protection!

“I get all that,” I said, hating my practical side. “But I don’t think you staying at my place is such a good idea.”

He studied me for a moment. “It’s about last night, isn’t it?”

“No.” His FBI-Special-Agent gaze practically drilled a hole in me. “Sort of.” I really didn’t want to talk about this. “Yes,” I finally blurted out. “Okay?”

“You regret what happened.”

“Regret wouldn’t be the word I’d use.” But it was close.

“What would the word be?”

I thought on it for a moment. “Rethinking.”

“Rethinking.” Now it was his turn to be contemplative. After a couple of moments he nodded. “Okay. Can I ask why?”

I pulled my sleeve up and pointed to the tattoo I had of a bunch of forget-me-nots with ribbon-wrapped stems on my forearm. “Read this.”

“The flowers?”

“Look at the words in the shading of the ribbon.”

“‘I will make better mistakes tomorrow,’” he read. When he looked up at me I couldn’t quite pin down the expression he wore. “Is that what you think it was, a mistake?”

How to explain? “The same part of my brain that thought last night was a good idea—” I moved my finger to the handcuff marks on my wrists, “—also thought it was a good idea to question a pissed-off cop’s ability to get it up while I was handcuffed in his backseat.”

He leaned back in his seat, disbelief parting his lips. “You’re comparing being with me last night to what that asshole cop did to you?”

“No.” Oh crap, this wasn’t going well. “This isn’t going well.”

He just stared at me. Uh-oh. I’d hurt his feelings. And pissed him off. The anger was just now fading in across his features.

“I got the tattoo hoping it would remind me not to act on impulse,” I tried to explain. I really sucked at this touchy-feely stuff.

He continued to watch me. At least he hadn’t kicked me out of his car. Yet.

“I’ve been told I might have anger-management issues. And a slight impulse-control issue. I’m trying to improve myself.” I paused for applause. Yeah, no. He clearly wasn’t impressed.

His gaze unnerved me, which was probably the point. I didn’t want to hurt him or make him think I regretted being with him. What I regretted was not taking a moment to make the conscious choice to be with him. Flying high on emotion, I’d just wanted to trade one memory for another much better one.

“I just wanted different hands on me,” I told him in a rush, shame heating my cheeks. “Can you understand that?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, sagging a little in his seat. “I can.”

It was my turn to stare at him. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I also wished I could thank him for muddling through my lame-assed explanation and for making the effort to understand it. Especially since I could hardly make sense of it myself.

“I’m trying not to feel used,” he said. “I get it. I really do. I just wish it had meant the same to us both.”

Oh. Ouch. “I thought I was the girl in this relationship.” I clapped my hand over my mouth, then mumbled under it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Stupid impulse issues! “It did mean something to me. I swear. Honestly, I don’t even know why you stick around sometimes.”

“You have your charms.” He reached out and did that thing where he wrapped my hair around his finger. “How about next time we plan ahead so we’re both on the same page at the same time?”

I lowered my hand and gave him the side-eye. “You want to make an appointment with me for sex?”

“Not exactly. I want you to tell me when you’re ready. Ahead of time. No impulsive decisions. No regrets or rethinking.” He made a back-and-forth motion between us. “Same page.”

“Okay. But doesn’t that take some of the fun out of it?”

He leaned in, a wicked smile curving his mouth. “No. It gives me time to think up new ways to make you scream.”

Chapter Ten

“I don’t think you should move in with me,” I told Super Agent on the drive back to Scottsdale.

I had a plan. Well, not so much a plan as a hair-brained scheme that just might work. If I could talk Super Agent into going along with it. Big
if
there.

“I thought we settled last night.”

“We did.” Mostly. “My secret admirer won’t make a move with you there.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“If it involves leaving you alone without protection to possibly get hurt or killed—no.”

“Not
alone
alone. Just hear me out and then you can decide that you really like my idea and go along with it and then this whole thing will be over.”

“No.”

“Quit being so stubborn.”

His gaze tracked to our joined hands and the marks on my wrist. “Haven’t you been through enough already?”

Oohhh. The quiet torment in his voice was a punch to the gut. Blinking stinging eyes, I gave his hand a squeeze. “Just listen. If you decide that it’s a no-go, then it’s a no-go. And I’ll do it whatever way you want. Okay?”

He stared out over the dash for a moment then slowly nodded his head. This was big doings for Super Agent. In a rush I filled him in on my plan for drawing out my stalker. When I finished, Super Agent gave me a quick appraising glance. Heh. I’d surprised him with my cleverness. Maybe not so much cleverness as my ability to be conniving. His second, worried look confirmed the latter.

“I’ll call and put things in the works when we get to your place.”

Huzzah! He’d gone for it. Although I didn’t know why I was so excited. I was the one who was going to have to do all the work.

It was all set up just the way I’d laid it out for Super Agent. Although if I’d known what a control freak he’d be about it all, I would’ve tried to come up with an entirely different plan. That man would make some child a very good mother one day. We barely had time as it was to get everything together, let alone check, recheck, double and triple recheck, and check yet again.