Exposed (35 page)

Too exhausted to fight with them anymore, she let them lead her out of the hospital.

* * * * *

Unable to sleep any more, just after dawn, Sydney pulled one of Frank’s old sweatshirts over her pajamas, grabbed her phone, and headed down to his office.

For some reason, that spot in particular, although as pristine and orderly as the rest of his home, seemed to be the place closest to him. Maybe it was the worn leather of the office chair. Maybe it was because this was where he’d chosen to display his one photo of him with the Edgars family. Maybe it was part of why she loved him. Not pretentious, not flashy. Simple, clean, efficient. Exactly what you saw.

She stared at the family photo again. He had to have more photos somewhere. Everyone had them, didn’t they? She couldn’t imagine a life without photos.

It suddenly hit her. A few years ago she’d uploaded a few images of her parents, meaning to start an online photo album. When Geist blew up her home, he’d destroyed all the remaining photos and mementos she’d had since childhood. Now those uploaded images was all she had left.

Shoving the notion and sadness into the back of her mind, she opened the drawers beneath the credenza and found a manila file folder and an old photo album. She knew it. Even Frank kept some reminders of his past, if only for his own viewing.

Carefully she opened the photo album, smiling at the pictures of a bald baby staring very seriously into the camera. Images of him growing up, playing with a dog, going fishing, with his mother and father. He smiled a lot in those pictures. Then something changed. He was very serious in the photos. His parents were no longer in the pictures. She assumed this was when they’d died. Another, older man stood beside him now—a gangly young Frank wearing a baseball uniform, Frank and the man working on an old car, Frank in his graduation gown and hat. That’s when the pictures stopped.

She closed the album and opened the folder. It contained a pile of commendations from the Marshal’s office. Most people would frame these and post them on the wall. Not Frank. They meant something special to him, but he wasn’t one to brag. The folder also held some newspaper articles about cases over the past twenty years, including the one where Katie was the star witness. His name wasn’t mentioned in any of them, but she suspected they were ones with good outcomes he’d been involved in. Another thing she loved about him. He was a man of integrity. A protector. He knew his job and did it well.

Closing the file, she put both items back exactly where she’d found them. She pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over her hands and wrapped her arms around herself, walking over to stare out the window onto the refinished front porch where an old fashioned porch swing hung.

Another thing she loved about Frank. He could see the potential in things. An old Victorian house. A porch swing. A lonely photographer in need of protection.

“Yeah, and the media attention around the congressman’s exploits and death, not to mention Annabeth Kelly’s death, could be the nail in Castello’s career coffin,” Dave said. “I doubt it could take any more scandal.”

Those words had haunted her all the way back to Frank’s house and into her sleep.

At some point, the information about the Congressman’s affair with Annabeth was going to come out, as well as his part in her death. The photos she’d developed, along with the ones Ian had sent to blackmail Blanton, would be used against Dimitri. And inevitably the news that her brother had escaped with the money would hit the Internet and the newspapers.

As much as she wanted to stay and explore this new relationship with Frank, she couldn’t put his career in jeopardy. He was too good at it. It meant too much to him. It was who he was.

And if she stayed, her family would eventually cost him.

Walking back to the desk, she reached for her phone. Since the danger had passed, she’d put the battery back in it. With a couple of swipes to the screen, she placed a call.

“Girl, you better be calling me to tell me that you’re okay,” Jontae said as she answered.

“I am,” she said. “I need you to do me a favor.”

* * * * *

The nurse was just coming out of Frank’s room when Sydney arrived at the hospital later that morning.

“You’re Sydney, right?” she asked, stopping her a few feet from the door.

“Yes. How’s he doing this morning?”

“Probably better now that you’re here. He’s asked if you’ve stopped in yet several times, and pushed back his pain medication. I just convinced him to take some, since it’s harder to get the pain under control if you wait too long.”

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I think he wanted to be awake to talk with you.” She glanced at the clock on the wall of the nurse’s station to her left, doing a quick calculation. “I’d say you have about fifteen minutes before that stuff kicks in.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Fifteen minutes.
And so much she wanted to say.

She opened the door to find Frank sitting up in the bed at about forty-five degrees. The bandage on his shoulder was minus the huge ice pack, and she could see a brownish red spot where some blood had soaked through it and dried.

“About time,” he muttered.

She came around the bed and pulled the chair as close as she could. “Visiting hours just started an hour ago.”

“I know. Half the damn family’s been in and gone.”

“And you know they’re just concerned about you because they love you.”

“I was worried about you,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She slipped her fingers in his again. “I’m fine. I told you last night. Besides, I had a nurse and a policeman in the house with me. You’re the one that’s been shot, twice. It’s a miracle the bullets didn’t shatter your collarbone or a bone in your leg.”

“The orthopedic surgeon was surprised, too. Said it might’ve been the angle I was in when I was shot. Something about mid-air and twisted to one side.” He lifted the corner of his mouth ever so slightly.

God, she loved that smile.

“I think that’s when you knocked me away from Geist.”

“Then we both landed on you.” He paused to yawn. “Sorry about that.”

“Stop apologizing. You saved my life. I should apologize to you for putting yours in such danger.”

“Would do it again…” Yawn. “For you.”

Her breath caught in her chest. He would, too. He’d sacrifice his body, his life, his career to protect her. It was her turn to protect him.

Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.

“Love you, Syd,” he murmured.

Her heart flipped an extra beat at the words.

She sat staring at him, memorizing every inch of his face. The crinkles around his eyes, the dark shadow of his beard growing in. The arch of his brows, the slight crooked spot on his nose, the curve of his lips.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an envelope with the note she’d written, explaining why she was leaving. She laid it on the bedside table with his keys on top.

She stood and stroked her fingers through his thick hair, easing it from his forehead. Leaning down, she kissed him, trying to memorize the feel of his lips beneath hers.

“I love you too, Frank.”

Before she chickened out, she turned and fled the room. The unit. The hospital. Not stopping until she was in Jontae’s car. She cried the entire drive to the airport.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Three months later
.

“I’m thrilled that you agreed to do a backstage shoot for this show,” Reginald, one of the winners of a fashion design competition said, standing next to Sydney as she snapped pictures.

The models, all sporting various lengths of blunt cuts with thick bangs and makeup reminiscent of the nineteen-twenties, were in various stages of preparation for his fall collection. He’d harassed her daily for a month until she finally agreed to do the shoot. He said he wanted something different, something more organic, opting for a shoot that showed the chaos backstage.

“Carrie is just about ready,” he sauntered over to pull the model forward, tweak the pleats of her skirt and pull the corner of the shoulder until the collar was slightly askew. “That’s it. Perfection.”

Sydney hid her smile at his dramatic proclamation as she snapped a few pictures of his efforts. Then she motioned for him to move to the side. “Look just to the left of my shoulder, Carrie, as if you see a long-lost lover coming toward you.”

The girl turned her head the direction she’d given, sort of giving a blank stare. Sydney wanted to cuss. She wanted some emotion, dammit, but swallowed the urge to lash out at the young girl. It wasn’t her fault she’d developed a short fuse since moving to New York. It certainly wasn’t her fault Sydney’s heart was broken. No, that was her own fault.

“Carrie, imagine the sexiest man you’ve ever seen has just entered the room.”

Something in that suggestion must’ve registered with the model. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped slightly open.

“That’s it!” Quickly she started taking shots. Carrie licked her lips and adjusted her pose, breasts thrust slightly outward.

Now, the model conveyed sultry-twenties-meets-sexy-nineties, the actual description Reginald had given his collection.

“Great. You can relax now,” she said when she straightened, feeling she’d gotten several images that would work for the magazine layout.

Carrie didn’t move. In fact, much of the activity in the room had stopped. Several of the models—male and female—seemed to be staring in the direction Carrie was looking, all of them with lust on their faces.

“Dear God, how did you conjure that big hunk of male?” Reginald leaned in to whisper, staring over her shoulder.

Goose bumps started on her arms and her pulse quickened even before she moved.

He’s here.

Clutching her camera to her, she slowly turned. There stood Castello, straight and tall. You’d never know he’d been shot in his leg—twice. His beard had grown in thicker, grey interspersed with the black making him sexier, like he needed it. He wore a grey tweed sports coat over a dark-grey sweater vest and open white shirt. Reflexively, she pressed on the camera button to catch the image.

“Sydney.” Her name, in that deep rumble, called to her like a siren.

She remained frozen to the spot. “Why are you here?”

He quirked his head to one side slightly and lifted an eyebrow. “You.”

“I left a note.”

“Got it.”

“It explained everything.”

“Not accepting it.”

“Your job.”

“I quit.”

“Why?”

“You.”

A gasp, followed by “Oh, my…” came from Reginald beside her. She turned to see her friend wiping at the tears in his eyes with the purple handkerchief he usually sported in his suit coat’s breast pocket. Suddenly, she realized the entire staging area had stopped to watch her own personal drama.

The invisible chains holding her in place snapped. She whirled around and walked back to the table where she’d laid out her equipment. She heard his footfalls behind her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Marshal. I told you in the letter. You’re too good at your job. My leaving should’ve protected your career. It’s what I wanted for you.”

“Too damn bad,” he quietly said from behind her. “It’s not what I wanted.”

She turned, almost crashing into him. Her hands itched to reach up and touch him. Instead, she clenched them into fists. She stared up at him. “Frank, you’d be bored.”

“Haven’t been so far.”

“My brother’s a wanted criminal—”

“—And we’re already looking for him.”

“—No law enforcement agency would want you if you were with me and had that kind of baggage around your neck.”

“Funny thing about that. Already have a new position.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Edgars Private Security.” He gave her his patented half lift of his mouth.

She laughed. “Who?”

“Jake and Sami’s idea. He didn’t want to stay with the bureau anymore. Dave, Matt, and Katie are on board. Luke and Abby are going to be consultants. And me.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Almost. Only one thing missing.”

Her heart fluttered over a beat. “What?” she asked, already hoping she knew the answer.

“You.”

She opened her mouth, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“My new bosses don’t mind a little scandal. They’ve dealt with worse things. I’ve learned one thing from being around them the past few years. Family isn’t always about the blood running through your veins. Sometimes, the best family is those you choose to let into your heart.” He moved his finger and replaced it with his lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Gasps and soft moans filled the room around them.

She didn’t care. This was Castello.

After a moment he lifted his lips, staring down at her. “You’re my family, Syd. I love you.”

“Girl! If you don’t grab that man and head out to your happy-ever-after, I might just do it for you,” Reginald called out.

Sydney laughed and wrapped her arms around Frank’s neck.

“I love you, too.”

“And?”

“And you’re the best part of my family.”

He grabbed her by the back of her sweater, hauled her in for a long, sexy kiss amongst the whooping and hollering and ribald comments of all the others in the room. That was Castello, a man of few words, but his actions always spoke volumes.

THE END

Author's Note

I feel like I should address several things in this book.

1. Often times when writing a story a news event occurs that mirrors something included in a book. In EXPOSED, I wrote about the murder of a police detective. Not long after that I saw on the news that a police officer had been killed while on duty. It saddened me that an officer had lost his life and my heart goes out to him, his family and all the police officers in the Columbus Police Department. Please know that what I wrote was strictly fiction and no way meant to profit on your sorrow. The actions of my police in the thwarted effort to find my detective’s killer is complete fiction and definitely not reflective of protocol normally used by either the CPD or the U.S. Marshal’s officers.