Shadow of Vengeance (45 page)

She shoved his chest and finally freed herself of his grasp. “Is that why you had sex with me? To help erase my memories?”

“Don’t,” he warned, his tone low, foreboding. “Don’t you dare throw that bullshit in my face.” He took a step back. “That was a shitty thing to say.”

“Going behind my back was even shittier.” She reached for the doorknob, then paused at the threshold. The tears that had been threatening to fall blurred her vision. “Jake’s expecting us. I’ll meet you in the dining room in thirty minutes.”
 

“Rachel.”

She paused, but not wanting him to see the tears streaking down her cheeks, she kept her back to him.
 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “For whatever it’s worth, I care about you.”

 
Her heart squeezed, while her throat tightened. She’d already shown him too much emotion this week and refused to let him see how close she was to breaking. Without a backward glance, she closed the door behind her, then rushed to her room. The moment she locked the door, she slid to the floor and let the tears fall. When she rested her head against the door, she drew in a deep breath and swiped at her face.

Screw him and get it together
.
 

Even if she wasn’t cut out to work in the field, she’d finish this investigation. Scratch that. She’d
solve
it.

With new determination, she pushed off the floor and went to her laptop. Her head hurt and her heart ached, but she needed to do a quick check on the security company. The sooner they found Josh and stopped the killer, the sooner she could return home and back to business as usual. And she would make damn sure things would go back to the way they were before she’d stupidly made love to Owen. Besides, she’d just spent the past year being a bitch to him. She could manage to maintain her well-balanced bitchiness for more years to come.
 

As she sat on the bed and opened the laptop, his scent, lingering on the sheets and pillows, assaulted her senses and took her back in time. To only a short while ago when they’d made love, slept together and had decided to give their relationship a shot. Fresh tears sprang into her eyes.
 

She didn’t want to be a bitch to him. She wanted to love him. But how could she love a man who had betrayed her trust?

*

Breathing hard, Owen surveyed the damage to his room. The moment Rachel had closed the door he’d launched his suitcase. It now lay haphazardly on the opposite side of the room, on its side, the contents scattered across the floor and bed.
 

Why did she have to be so damned stubborn? Why couldn’t she realize he was right and only had her best interests in mind?
 

He knocked a pair of jeans off the bed. How could she even think he’d had sex with her as a way to help her deal with Bill’s murder?
 

“Bullshit,” he muttered and dropped onto the mattress.
 

He hadn’t lied when he told her he cared about her. But he hadn’t told her the whole truth. He was crazy about her. Lust might have had him interested in her soft curves and sassy mouth, but lust didn’t fill his chest with a longing for something more. Like the opportunity, or the hope of sharing a life together.
 

Yeah, he was in that deep. Running a hand through his hair, he realized he had to act fast to make things right between them. He didn’t want them heading back to Chicago with their argument weighing on their shoulders. Conjuring up worse case scenarios, he could easily picture Rachel going back to her sarcastic self. Back to calling him a douche bag and treating him as if…damn, as if they’d never made love.

Made love
.

He shook his head and reached for some of the clothes on the bed. Sex. They’d had sex. Love had never entered the equation. He righted the suitcase. Then why in the hell did it feel like someone had just ripped his fucking heart out of his chest? Why couldn’t he shake the tension from his shoulders or stop his gut from clenching every time he pictured the shock and hurt widening her green eyes?

He’d done what Ian had asked. Gave his boss updates and an honest assessment. While he stood by his evaluation, deep down, he’d wanted her to prove him wrong. He’d wanted her to step up her game and prove she could be a candidate for assignments away from the desk. But at the same time, he’d selfishly wanted to keep her locked in CORE’s evidence and evaluation room where she would be safe and far away from atrocities she could witness. Make that, atrocities she
would
witness. Since he’d been with CORE he’d seen things that still made his skin crawl and his stomach nauseous. Crying over it didn’t make those images go away. He’d learned a long time ago to mask his emotions, push past the vile things he’d seen and keep the end goal in mind—putting a criminal or killer behind bars.

Did it ever occur to you to give me a few pointers? Did you ever stop and think that maybe giving me a little advice might have helped?

He ran a hand through his hair, then hung his head. He’d been so concerned about making sure she took the lead and ran the investigation, despite Ian’s orders, he hadn’t wanted to interfere. Shit. He’d been so frickin’ concerned about finding a way to crack her defenses, convince her that they deserved a shot at a relationship, it never occurred to him that he should talk about ways of handling emotions during an intense investigation.
 

“Fuck…she’s right,” he mumbled and tossed the clothes at the suitcase. He’d totally betrayed her trust and confidence. How could he have been so asinine? How could he not realize that going behind her back would eventually jeopardize their professional and personal relationship? Hell, if any of the other guys at CORE had gone behind his back and bitched about how he’d handled himself during an investigation, he’d seriously consider kicking their asses. There was a code among the members of CORE and he’d just broken it.
 

Now he didn’t know how to make this right. He cared about her, more deeply than he’d realized. She made him want more out of life. She made him think about the future, and not just his future with CORE.
 

At thirty-seven, he’d considered himself a confirmed bachelor. Constantly on the road, there had never been time for a committed relationship. But being with her, watching the way she interacted with Joy and Walter, how devoted and nurturing she was to her brother, he realized that behind her sarcasm and dark humor, she had a sweet side.

This past week with Rachel made him also realize he was missing out on life. He’d spent years making sure he kept his career on track. After the shit he’d dealt with in the Secret Service, he’d made it his goal to solve every case that came his way, to prove time and again that what had happened in Italy was the last mistake he’d ever make. Not paying close attention to his surroundings while in Rome, dismissing a seventeen-year-old brat as nothing but a nuisance had been a mistake. But he’d made a bigger one with Rachel.
 

He hadn’t paid attention to what she’d needed and hadn’t considered that his actions might result in a reaction that could cost him something he probably didn’t deserve. Rachel.
 

To have her, hold her, make love to her, then lose it all because he’d been too stupid to understand what she needed? He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want to go back to using business as an excuse to talk to her in the morning, then again at night before he went to bed. He wanted to wake up and fall asleep next to her. While he’d been trying to crack her defenses, she’d disintegrated all of his. Now he needed to be honest with her. Hell, he needed to be honest with himself.
 

He’d fallen hard for Rachel and now he could lose her.

His stomach rolled with anxiety and his temple throbbed with self-loathing. He glanced at the clock. Time to meet Rachel downstairs.
 

After grabbing his coat, he slid into his boots. When he opened the door, he caught Rachel closing hers. The slight puffiness around her eyes made his stomach roll again. He’d made her cry, and hated himself for his stupidity. But he’d hate himself even more if he didn’t right his wrongs and do everything possible to prove to her that they deserved a shot.

“Ready?” she asked and zipped her coat.

“Yes…no.” He took several quick strides to reach her. “Rachel, I’m—”

She held up a hand. “Me, first.”

Relief settled his stomach. Maybe she’d given their argument some thought and was still willing to give them a chance.

“GSI stands for Guaranteed Systems Incorporated.”

Damn. Back to business.
 

“The reason Jake or the security guards at Wexman probably didn’t know the name of the company is because it’s kind of super secret. Remember the university’s head of security telling us the equipment was delivered from an unknown recipient and that all they knew was it had been donated?”

“Yeah.”

“GSI builds custom security systems for the government and fortune five hundred companies. I’m talking major, high tech, cutting edge stuff that could possibly give the term Big Brother a whole new meaning. They don’t have a website, or list any of their products or security solutions.”

“How’d you find all this out then?” he asked then wished he could instantly retract such a ridiculous question. Rachel loved hacking into places considered off limits.
 

After confirming his stupidity with a “you’re a dumbass” look, she pulled a notepad from her pocket. “Ever hear of Guarinot?”

“Yeah, it’s a security company. My neighbor uses them.”

“Guarinot is more than a residential security company. They’re not only a government contractor, but they have a bunch of employees who have top-secret security clearance. You and I both know that if you have that kind of clearance—”

“Yeah, that’s big time.”

“Well, GSI is linked to them. I literally found one small mention in a government document dating back thirty years and only recently made public. Linked that to Guarinot, then did a little snooping.”

“Are you thinking this company and the killer are somehow linked?”

“Not sure about that. But what I did find is a GSI employee, with top secret security clearance, who is linked to Josh Conway.”

“Who?” he asked, growing impatient. Rachel was known for her melodramatic build-ups. While he normally liked when she kept him hanging onto her every word as she dished the details, he wanted answers. Now. He wanted to find the missing kid, stop the killer, then use his energy to make things right with Rachel.

“Robert Conway. Josh’s dad, who’s also the senior engineer for GSI and, get this…a graduate from Wexman University.”

“Josh’s dad graduated from Wexman? When?”

“Twenty-two years ago.”
 

“Which means he was here when the no hazing policy went into effect and might have some answers for us.”
 

Her eyes brightened. “Yeah, like how is it that the security equipment he donated to the university happened to malfunction the day before his son was kidnapped?”

Chapter 19

Detective Nick Merretti looked up from the report he’d been working on and absently glanced at the small calendar sitting in the corner of his desk. He stared at the X’s he crossed out daily and realized he hadn’t put an X through today’s date. After doing so, he leaned back in the squeaky office chair.
 

Five months and nineteen days until retirement.

He couldn’t wait. No more tedious reports. No more victims. No more murderers. Just him and Gracie. He and his wife had big plans. Sell the bungalow, buy a condo in Fort Myers, Florida, and enjoy carefree days with nothing on the agenda but the beach and golf.
 

He glanced at his partner, Leon, who sat across from him, their desks pushed together. While his partner was on the phone, Nick opened his desk drawer and pulled out the brochure of the golf community where they planned to retire. The condos were nice, homey and nothing ritzy. With three bedrooms, his kids and grandchildren would be able to visit without having to stay at a hotel. Maybe he’d teach his grandson, Cody, how to golf. The boy—

Leon leaned across his desk and gave Nick’s a smack. “Sure, I’ll get Detective Merretti for you. Hold on one second.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and covered the receiver. “Remember the John Doe we found at Parkside Motel? You know the one who had his junk cut—”

“What about him?” Nick asked.
 

“I’ve got a deputy sheriff on the phone who says he might have a connection to our John Doe.” He shook his head. “Nick, he thinks his wife has been living in Marietta, Ohio for the past eighteen months.”

Nick shoved the brochure back in the drawer. The gruesome brutality of that particular case had haunted him. He and Leon had worked every angle without any results. Other than the man’s DNA, which wasn’t in the national DNA database, they had no way to ID the victim. The ME had been able to give their John Doe a rough age guestimate of thirty-five to forty-five, but that did them no good. They’d scoured missing persons reports for months, but without a photo ID and no idea where the man originated, they’d eventually had to call it quits. John Doe had become a cold case.