Hold on Tight (9 page)

“I know one of the guys.”

Of course he did. This world of military and secret agencies was so small. “The man who killed Mike, the man who shot me—he’s escaped.”

“And you think he’s the one breaking into your house.”

“I don’t know what to think. We’re just being cautious at this point. For him to come here, after me, would be pointless. I’d think he’d be better served getting out of the country and going to Colombia, where some drug lord can cover his ass.”

“How long ago did that happen—with you and Mike?”

“Ten months. And I hate that he might’ve been in here, touching my things. But I hate it even more that something like this, something that could be considered a routine threat, a hazard of the job, needs to get my foster father up in arms because of my background.”

Chris didn’t say anything, just put a hand on her arm and rested his head on her shoulder. He got her and didn’t try to break her out of self-pity mode. It was a good thing, because she needed to do that herself—it was far too dangerous to have to depend on someone else.

Her breaths were deep, although not easy. He could tell she was thinking, planning … deciding how much further to let him in. And he simply waited for her to continue—she would, and he was well aware that pushing her further wouldn’t get him the information he wanted. Like more details about this Gary Handler bastard and how he could get his hands on him himself.

She seemed convinced it was Handler; the evidence pointed to him, but if it wasn’t him, if it was someone else from her past, he’d take care of that too—knew it with a certainty that he hadn’t felt in forever.

The fierce, primal urge to protect Jamie that had been there in Africa had only intensified. And now he remained as fucking close as he could possibly be to her without stripping her down and taking her, which was not an easy urge to fight.

She’d trusted him at a time when she trusted no one. She could try to tell him that she’d had to, that she hadn’t had a choice when he snuck onto the plane headed for Africa and her sister, but he didn’t buy that for a second.

“I’m glad you came here tonight,” she whispered finally. “I almost called … wanted to. But …”

“Yeah, I know. Look, Jamie, I won’t let you get in trouble for this, I’ll take the brunt of it. But I couldn’t leave things the way we did last night. I shouldn’t have thrown all of this at you the way I did. Not with everything else you’re dealing with.”

“The timing wasn’t the best—but you didn’t know about the break-in.”

“It freaked you out. I can see that.”

“It just … came at the wrong time.”

“It’s all right to be scared.”

“I don’t want to be. I keep telling Kevin that I’m fine, told the men watching the house that too. I think they believe me. And I’m lying to all of them.”

“You know as well as I do that fear’s a good thing—the best thing that could happen to you. Fear keeps you fierce, sharp. That’s how you need to be right now,” he told her.

“I used to think that way, but I don’t know anymore, Chris. The night Mike died, I was terrified.” Her voice was low and shaky and she still didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, she stared at the wall in front of her as though she could see the entire scene playing out in living color. “I thought I was prepared for anything. I mean, I’d had the best training. But the shots came so fast and I wasn’t ready. I was vulnerable.”

By the tone of her voice, it was obvious that was a feeling she despised. “There we were, in this desert just beyond the Texas–Mexico border, and I remember thinking,
This is it—all these months of tracking this asshole and we’ve finally got him
. But it wasn’t over—it was a trap. Handler was waiting for us—him and another guy, who was killed on the scene.”

She wiped away a stray tear with the palm of her hand and continued. “I think those first shots killed Mike instantly. I don’t even remember firing my gun, but I found out later that I’d hit Handler in the back. And then I looked down at Mike and there was so much blood. He was bleeding everywhere. I grabbed him. Tried CPR. But it was too late.” The tears flowed freely now that she’d gotten the story out in its entirety.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did everything right.”

“But I couldn’t save him.”

“You did your job.”

“I was supposed to protect him, the way he protected me.”

Chris shook his head. “You were too involved—that’s not always a good thing with a partner. It throws your game off. Makes you more vulnerable than you would be otherwise.”

“You think you were more vulnerable on your last mission because you were close to Mark?”

“I’m vulnerable every time I go out with those guys—we’re all close. Hell, I work with my brothers a lot of the time. The only way we get to do that is because they were never officially adopted by my parents. And yeah, it’s getting harder with every mission.” He hadn’t wanted to admit that, hadn’t even realized how much he meant it until the words spilled out.

“I never thought about that with Mike. I think … I think it was harder for him. He loved me more than I loved him.” She looked over at him. “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”

“It’s the way you felt.” He paused, and then, “You’re bringing a hell of a lot of baggage with you to your job then and now.”

“My other options were fry cook or working at a dry cleaners.” She grimaced. “This was the best option for me. I could protect myself. I had a built-in wall around me with the FBI—there was no way anyone would be able to investigate my real background information.”

“I’m sure Mike understood about your past—”

She cut him off. “He didn’t know.”

“You were with him for five years … why didn’t you trust him with that information?”

“I trusted him. It wasn’t like that.” She stared down at her hands—he’d noted when she’d come to speak with him in the hospital in Africa that she wasn’t wearing the wedding band anymore. Now she held her hand up, acknowledging what he’d noted. “I took it off a week after I got back from the DRC. It took a while for me to get used to my hand without it.”

“It’s always hard to lose someone special.”

She laughed, a short, almost harsh sound. “Mike was planning on leaving me. I found a letter. He wrote it a few nights before he died.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“I failed him in so many ways. All because I was doing what I was supposed to, according to the great gods of witness protection. I told myself I was protecting him by not telling him everything, but really I was protecting myself.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “He said that I was cold. And he was right—I am.”

“You
were,”
he corrected. “On the plane in Africa, in the hotel last week, tonight when I made you come, you were anything but cold.”

“So I just needed the right man?” She sounded angry about that. He should’ve tread more carefully. But hell, that had never been his nature.

“Yeah, I think you needed the right man. Needed to let yourself go. It sounds like with Mike … you must not have had passion between you. He was a fool to want to let you go.”

She jerked away from him. “Don’t you dare say anything bad about him. He loved me. I know that. I’m not the easiest person in the world to live with, to love, and he did it for years.”

“I’m not, Jamie.”

“We had to hide the fact that we were together from everyone. Sometimes, I think that was a mistake—if I’d told my supervisor, gotten another partner, even quit and found something else to do …” She shook her head. “We hid what we had—that was a big part of the problem.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Jamie. Because anyone who sees us with each other, whether we’re sitting across a table in a lawyer’s office or walking side by side in the grocery store, would know we were together—it’s not something we could hide for years from friends or colleagues.”

“You didn’t tell your CO, did you?” she demanded.

“I haven’t told him anything, but he’s not stupid. We’re not going to be able to hide things between us for much longer.”

“Get out.” She pulled herself from his embrace, as things quickly went from fire to ice.

Yeah, he had that effect with his honesty. “I’m leaving this room, this house, but I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“I’m not alone. And I already told you, I’ve had a hell of a lot of practice keeping myself safe.”

“There are all different kinds of safe, Jamie—all different ways to fake it too.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, turned and ducked his head slightly on his way out the door, the habit of a man whose height trained him to do so.

But she wasn’t letting it go—she was still so angry, at the entire situation, at him especially, and he’d been prepared to bear the brunt of that anger. Still, he hadn’t realized how much it would fucking hurt.

“This isn’t your job, Chris.”

“Anything that involves you possibly being hurt is my job. I don’t give a damn if you don’t get that right now.”

“You’re going to get me fired.”

“The FBI doesn’t know I’m here.” He paused and then let some of his own anger loose. “You think I like screwing myself and Cam? That it’s fun watching my career go down the drain because I can’t remember, point by point, what the fuck happened during that riot?” he demanded, and then lowered his voice. “Just let me do what I need to do.”

“What you need to do is stop trying to control this situation. You have your own to deal with.”

“You are my situation. Don’t you get that? Ever since I first kissed you … And I’m not going to let something happen to you just because there are circumstances keeping us apart.”

“There’s more to this than the investigation.”

“I know that. But right now, I’m dealing with one thing at a time.” He moved to leave and then stopped. “You’re so tough, Jamie, so strong. But you don’t have to always be that way around me. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know that. I’ve let my guard down for you—I’ve let you in.”

“Letting me into your house isn’t the same as letting me in,” he said evenly. “You’ve kept me on the outside of your life. Even in Africa, when we were looking for PJ and Nick, you told me things, like your witness protection status, and still managed to stay inside your glass house.”

“You haven’t let your guard down for me either, not really,” she shot back.

“Maybe not.”

“What happens when the walls do come down, for both of us?”

“I don’t know. Are you willing to find out?”

“I’ve come further with you than I ever have with anyone, Chris. I’m willing. Probably since the first day I met you. There’s just so much to deal with, so much to talk about.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then, “My mom died when I was fourteen—and I knew before it happened, because of my gift, the same way I knew about Mark.”

“Oh, Chris.” When he’d told her last night about his gift, she hadn’t taken into consideration how it might affect his entire life.

“It happens with anyone I’m close to. So … there’s my fucking wall.” He sounded half-angry even to his own ears and he wasn’t exactly sure where that anger was directed—at himself or at her. “You can let me know when you’re ready for yours to come down.”

“I don’t know if it will. If it can.”

“So you’re never going to tell me what happened to you when you were little, then? Why you’re in witness protection?”

“I’m not supposed to. Ever. To anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone. Not anymore, not ever, no matter how hard you’re trying to fight me.”

“You don’t know everything. And once I tell you, you’re involved. I can’t take it back. And once you’re involved, you’re a target.”

“So what, better that I don’t know, like Mike?”

“Drop it.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie, but no matter what, unless you stay completely unattached to anyone or anything, there’s danger.”

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“You can, you just won’t. I’m in this.
We’re
in this. And it’s not just us anymore, so we’ve got some major shit to figure out here.”

She hugged her arms around herself. “The more people who know, the harder it is to control. The more people you get close to, the more you put them in danger. Don’t you see, if we get involved, it’s not only you and me and the baby. You’ve got a family. Things will get complicated.”

“I don’t mind brick walls. I won’t keep running into them, but I’ll sure as hell find another way around it. If I can’t do that, I’ll blow it the fuck up, but rest assured, I will get through.” He paused, and then, “I know your name used to be Ana.”

Her mouth opened but she didn’t say anything.

“It’s what you named the baby I delivered in Africa,” he explained, and yes, that had been her reasoning. It had felt good to say that name again out loud, even though it wasn’t hers any longer.

She’d practiced and practiced in order to get rid of Ana—to stop responding to the name, to stop writing it on her school papers. As an eight-year-old, the concept of being reborn couldn’t be explained the way it can to an adult. It was hard and confusing, and for a long time she hated her new name, the one given to her when Kevin took her and PJ in.

Follow the rules and you won’t get harmed
. It really was that simple. Except following the rules, especially the strict ones necessitated by witness protection, wasn’t easy. “It’s hard for people to follow the rules, because they have to leave everyone behind. No one wants to do that, no matter how much they’re told that they need to look at it as a fresh start, a new opportunity. It’s so much easier said than done. This is so much further than I’ve ever gone before, than I’ve ever wanted to go.” She reached down until her hand found his, laced her fingers through his. His grip was firm but he didn’t relax his stance. “People around me die, Chris.”

“Nothing to do with the fact that you surround yourself with danger, right?” he challenged. “Mike was in a dangerous job. Your parents—your mom, she put herself on the line. Jesus, Jamie, you’ve got to understand that people make their own choices. Including you.”