Break My Heart (The Heart Series Book 2) (30 page)

I unlock my car and guide him to the passenger seat. I keep waiting for him to keel over. He looks like absolute shit and I hate it.

If I don’t get him to where he needs to be, this going back and forth is going to kill him. His lips are pale, and there are small crimson drops on his shirt from his nose. His bright blue eyes are cloudy and dull, dark circles underneath clear evidence of fatigue and weariness.

On the other hand, I’m wired with energy; I haven’t felt this strong in a long time. I’m pumped up, feel like kicking some ass and taking names.

Tommy’s ringtone blares right before I climb into the driver’s side.

“Hey—”

“Where were you?” he whispers into the receiver. He must be afraid of being overheard.

“Uptown. Heading back home to do a little bit of legwork.”

Silence. Maybe I lost him. “Tommy?”

“I’m glad you’re all right. Okay, I gotta go.” He’s barely audible.

“Bye.” I end the call. He’s working. I can’t believe he risked calling me; he could have blown his cover.

I climb into the driver’s side, get the key into the ignition, and start my car. Gloom, weariness, and frustration wrap tightly around Will like a cocoon.

“We’ll figure this out,” I offer hope to no avail. Will’s stoic jaw is rigid as we get back on the road without saying a word.

قلب

I hadn’t wanted Will to see Bloomingfield. I figured it would be too much for him to witness firsthand how the last seventy years had taken a toll on his beloved hometown. I wanted to avoid all questions about that city, especially regarding the Shaw farm.

He still hasn’t asked it, and I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to know what happened to his family home, or because he’s afraid of the answers.

Regardless, we ride back to my place in silence. He hates the music I play, and I can only listen to Frank Sinatra for so long before wanting to jump out of the car.

I need answers before I risk his life—and mine—again.

“Will. You need to be straight with me if you want me to help you.”

His chiseled features are turned toward the passenger window, keeping his gaze veered away from me. He seems disappointed, sad, and it kills me inside. I reach for his arm and squeeze it reassuringly.

His skin ignites a spark in my fingertips. Those weird feelings that called to me back then are trying to flame up again, like embers catching some wind. Instinctively, I pull my hand away and grip the wheel tightly.

I wish I knew what was going on in that head of his. Will is all about duty, responsibility, honor. Whatever it is, the fact he can’t control what’s going on is killing him inside. Like it did me. “Where is it that you have to be?” I press on.

His entire frame straightens. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shoots me a sideways glance. He’s mad, those thick, asymmetrical brows pinched.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Fine. What are you trying to do, then?”

He stares out the passenger window, clearly pissed off at me.

“You can’t keep this up,” I try to reason as we get off the expressway. “You’re sick, and getting sicker.”

“I can’t stop,” he finally answers under his breath.

Oh no
. I pull into a shopping center and park.

“Why are we stopping?” He scans the area around in confusion.

“Are you trying to stop Wayne? Save those women? Is this why you’re being so cryptic?”

“What are you talking about?” He gives me an incredulous look. “How would I know where those women are?”

“I don’t know! Why else would you be traveling through time, Will?” Steeling my resolve, I can’t let him see what he’s doing to me. Those piercing blue eyes unravel me. “You said there’s somewhere you need to be. Are you looking for someone?”

That stubborn jaw ticks. Oh man, that’s it. He’s looking for someone. Jesus.

“Who are you looking for, Will?”

He winces as if in pain. “I can’t tell you.”

“God dammit! I have no idea how this shit works! You’re messing with something that could change everything!” I don’t mean to yell, but frustration is in charge. “You might think you’re fixing something and end up fucking something else up.” I swallow thickly at the memories. “I almost did.”

His brow pinches in anger and impatience. At least color is returning to his lips, and the nosebleed stopped.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Get back on the road and take us back to your building.”

“Why are you mad? Because I mentioned your cousin?”

“This isn’t about Wayne. This is about....” He sighs in frustration, clearly uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

I’ve officially run out of patience. “Fine,” I snap.

Watching for traffic, I pull my 325i back onto the road.

The air is filled with tension. His loud sighing and headshakes are getting on my very last nerve.

“I don’t remember you being so...crass,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?” I squeal so loud he flinches in his seat. “Are you fucking serious?”

“There! You’re doing it again! Why do you have to use that language?” His booming voice makes my windows vibrate.

Oh, it’s on.

“Because this whole situation is ludicrous, that’s why! And you’re in my house now, Will Shaw! I’m sorry if my language makes you
uncomfortable
,” I yell, making air quotations, “or you don’t like it or whatever!”

“Excuse me if I don’t like to hear a lady using that kind of language! I’m sorry I don’t approve of the way you’re cavorting with this Tom, or the way you dress!”

I’m done with this bullshit. My anger is spilling into my driving, my tires squealing as I round the curve. “Too damn bad, ‘cause you know what? I didn’t like to be treated like a hood ornament back in your time!” I’m booking down the neighborhood roads, road rage at the wheel. “I didn’t like wearing layers of underwear, or smelling cow shit all day, or getting terrorized by fucking chickens, but I dealt with it, didn’t I?” I’m ranting, focused on the road, manifesting my anger and frustrations. “So, you’re going to have to deal with it. Shit happens, so suck it up!” Furious, I pull into my parking lot and slam on the brakes once I reach my spot.

My blood is boiling, my clamped hair in disarray, and I’m ready for a round of kickboxing.

Shutting off the engine, I finally glare at Will.

His dull eyes are bright once again, like the ocean on a sunny day, his dimples marking his colored cheeks.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” he says, husky and low, doing funny things to my belly.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I know,” he answers earnestly. “I’d forgotten how,
feisty
”—he mimics my gesture of quotation marks—“you were. It reminds me—” He stops abruptly, like suddenly remembering something. His earnest smile vanishes.

"What?" I pin him with a quizzical gaze.

“Nothing.” He sighs, deflated. “I miss my Lily.”

His sadness and yearning flutter in and smother my anger. Our closeness cocoons us, and our eyes lock. My phone rings, breaking the spell.

“Ryan calling”
flashes on the screen.

“What’s up?” I greet, welcoming the interruption.

“Can you talk?”

Taking a deep breath, I cover the receiver. “I need to talk to my fellow agent. Do you mind going ahead? I’ll catch up.”

“Sure. I’ll get cleaned up. I’ll see you upstairs.”

Once Will is safely inside, I get back to Charlie.

“What’s up?”

“The DNA B sent out came back this morning,” Charlie says, gruffly.

My stomach drops. “And?” This is it. My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage and I try to regulate my breathing.

“We were denied access.”

Denied access to the database? How?

“What do you mean?”

“It means someone
flagged
your friend, and once he popped up in the system, they locked up his info tight, saying we didn’t have clearance. That’s what I think, anyway. B was livid, so he went to Teague, and what do you know? Teague was denied access to the results, too.”

I don’t know what to say. Panic strangles me. Who would be looking for Will?

“Who
is
this guy, Harper, really?”

“He’s an old friend.”

“So you keep saying.” Charlie Ryan is no ordinary agent. He’s quiet, observant, and patient. He’s the only person on our team that sees beyond what’s there. My mind is spinning, but Charlie is just getting started. “It gets better.”

Oh no. “What.” My knuckles turn white as I squeeze the steering wheel.

“Teague just called us into his office. We are to turn your missing person case file over to DC.”

“Well, shit.”

Someone in the government knows about Will and me. This is
not
good.

“B and I busted our asses, and now we’re told we’re done, and to turn over all the evidence collected. So, before you serve me a heaping spoonful of that bullshit you’ve been cooking, let’s do the math. Your friend shows up. B runs his blood through the system, and we get blocked out once we try to ID him. Then, we’re ordered to turn your case over.” He clicks his tongue in skepticism. “Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

This is some serious shit. I can’t stash Will somewhere and hope all of this blows over.

“I’m not going to ask questions, Harper, I’m not. You’re a big girl. But you’re on DC’s radar. It’s a matter of time before they come our way and ask you to hand over your friend.”

Shit, he’s one hundred percent right. “I’m sorry, Charlie. Thanks for the heads up.”

Panic hits my system and anxiety begins to boil. This is all too much.

This morning’s disappearing act was one hell of a revelation. The possibility that someone else out there is aware that we can travel
anywhen
freaks me the hell out.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

“Right.” There’s no humor in his tone. “On my way to surveillance. Later.” Without waiting for a reply, he ends the call.

I was right. Will has been keeping me in the dark, but this shit just got way bigger than the two of us. What the hell happened after I left 1944? Commanding my feet to move, I get out of my car and march inside.

قلب

I pound at the door, blood simmering inside my skull.

I’m trying my damn best not to lose my wits before he says two words to me. Muffled footsteps approach the other side of the door.

The door’s barely open when I waltz in without so much as an invitation.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s. Wrong?” My temper gets the best of me. My brow cannot go any higher on my forehead.
The nerve
. “You tell me.” Irritation manifests through pent-up energy and resentment. Good, helpful Ileana is gone. Special Agent Harper is back in charge, and she’s taking no prisoners. He thinks I’m brash and unladylike? Hell, he had better buckle up. Shit is about to get real. I’m not leaving without answers.

Still standing by the door, he eyes me with a puzzled look on his face. He cleaned up and changed his shirt.

“Well, let’s start again, shall we?” The apartment is in the middle of renovations, but it has the bare essentials for a short stay. The layout is the same as my place, so I motion to a small kitchen table. “Sit,” I order.

Will treads slowly to the chair without taking his eyes off me. Once he’s situated, I begin my inquiry.

“Who are you looking for?”

“I told you, I can’t tell you.” He braces for whatever comes.

He’s sticking to his convictions. The ever-noble Will Shaw.

I lean into him once more. “That was Agent Ryan on the phone and he had some interesting info.” I push away from the table, pacing in front of him. “Your DNA is classified. Someone in the government is looking for you.” I throw him a nasty look. “Now, they know you’re here,” I sneer bitterly. “And if that’s not enough, they know about me. Maybe they’re on their way from DC to talk to us.” Finally spent, I throw out my question one last time. “So, who are you looking for?”

“It’s not what you think,” he murmurs quietly, his brows scrunched in frustration.

“You don’t know what I think. Hell, you don’t know a goddamn thing about me. After all I just told you, still, you won’t tell me? You continue to underestimate me, you know that?” My words are like a slap to the back of the head, he doesn’t dare respond or deny. I gave him a chance to come clean and tell me the truth, and he’s still playing me.

“This is how it’s going to go. You are going to tell me everything.” I brace myself against the table and pin him with my stare, my muscles aching from the tension. “And if you lie to me or omit any truth, I swear to all that’s holy, I will end you.”

Those strong features lock in determination. Ice blue globes stare into my soul. “You’re not going to hurt me, Ileana,” he states, full of confidence and assurance.

“It goes to show you once again how little you know me.” I reach for my holster and he follows my movement. I’m done fucking around. He doesn’t get to show up and piss all over my life. “So, this is what I’ll do. If you don’t come clean, I will recant, and turn you in. All it would take is a statement from me, and the FBI will lock you up and throw away the key.”

His face blanches and defeat emerges. He exhales loudly, motioning to the chair across the table from his own. “Fine. Please sit down.”

“No more lies,” I warn in confirmation.

He sighs in acceptance. “No more lies.”

قلب

“My Aunt Miriam raised hell when Wayne went missing. People started talking, remembered me with him that night of the USO dance.”

Grasping the table for support, I take in what he said. That damn woman at the USO dance. Wayne’s mother. Shit.

Every action has consequences. Everything we do, however insignificant we think it is, has a lasting effect, like throwing a rock down a snowy hill, only to turn into an avalanche.

“They can’t charge you with Wayne’s disappearance. There was no body.” Maybe some blood at the Shaw farm from that night….

“Not yet. But she started rumors that we were fighting the night he disappeared, that I killed him and buried him somewhere, and those hens loved to stir trouble. Next thing, the sheriff is knocking at Mom’s door wanting to search the farm. He was never a fan of my dad’s, so he put me through the ringer.”