Escape From Paradise (38 page)

He stopped, tense, never turning. “You’re drunk,” he said again. “And I wish you’d call me Colin.”

With my sentiment ignored, he left me.

I love you.

Fucking Graham and his fucking vodka. He wanted to strangle his idiot of a brother. Colin’s chest constricted, like he couldn’t breathe when he remembered what he’d seen in that room—the two of them so close, their faces mere inches apart. And the bottle next to them.

He wasn’t opposed to them talking. In fact, if they could help each other, he’d be fucking grateful, but how had they gotten so close in the couple days he’d been gone? He didn’t want them
that
close. And he sure as fuck didn’t want Angela turning to drugs and alcohol the way Graham had.

I love you.

He scraped at his scalp with his fingertips, pacing his room. God damn it!

Some people said alcohol made the truth come out. But Colin knew from his own drunken stupors that alcohol also made you do and say things you’d never want to do or say in a sober state—things you didn’t mean at all. She’d been through so much. She was confused.

She couldn’t have meant it, but it affected him just the same. He’d wanted to turn around and take himself back to her bed, to cover her skin with his, to bury himself deeper inside her than anyone ever had, and listen to her say those words over and over. To him.

The best thing Colin could do for both of them would be to leave. He’d allowed things to go too far. But the selfish, masochistic part of him wanted to stay, wanted to see how things would play out, good or bad.

Dawn broke, spreading a buttery light through his room. He wasn’t tired, having slept a bit on the plane. In fact, he felt wired as Angela’s words resounded in his head on replay.

Soon, he could hear the Birches moving around in the kitchen and smell coffee brewing. It lured Colin from his room. Mrs. Birch brightened, beaming at him when he entered.

“Coffee?” she asked, already grabbing a mug and pouring.

“Please. Just black.”

She handed it to him and picked up her own. They stood there staring at one another for an awkward moment before Colin said, “Thank you.”

She held his eyes, all seriousness, and then verbally knocked him on his arse when she said quietly, “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Mr. Birch took that prime moment to bustle into the kitchen, sweeping a kiss across his wife’s cheek, and holding out a hand to Colin.

“Ah, Agent Douglas. Good to see you back!” They shook hands, and Colin made one last moment of eye-contact with Mrs. Birch, whose gaze was soft and understanding.

Colin sat at the table, rattled, while Mrs. Birch buttered toast and fried eggs, and her husband sat across from him wanting to discuss all things Scotland. Within minutes they were both devouring platefuls of breakfast. When they were finished Colin took the dishes up and rinsed them, despite Mrs. Birch’s attempts to do it.

He heard a shuffle at the door, and he felt Angela’s presence before he saw her.

“There’s my girl,” Mr. Birch said.

“Mornin’ Daddy.” She sounded tired and wary, the second part Colin knew was probably because of him. “It smells good.”

Mrs. Birch moved back to the stove. “Sit down, honey, and let me make you an egg.” She patted Colin’s arm and said, “You sit, too.” She inclined her head back to the table where Angela was pulling out a chair next to her dad.

Colin’s instinct had been to leave and let the family have their time together, but he didn’t want to be rude. He took a seat across from Angela, who stared down at her hands in her lap. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which Colin thought was incredibly cute, along with the pillow lines on her face from the couple hours of sleep she’d gotten.

Mrs. Birch put a cup of coffee in front of her daughter. “Cream and sugar, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks,” Angela whispered. She and Colin sipped their coffee, never making eye-contact, while her father rustled a newspaper. After a few minutes Mrs. Birch set a plate in front of Angela, and then sat next to Colin, sighing happily.

Angela made no move for her fork. No move to eat, at all.

“Aren’t you hungry, sweetie?” her mom asked.

“Um.” She fingered the fork next to her plate. “Not really.”

Her mom looked sad. “You should try to take a couple bites. Just to have something in your stomach. You did so well last night…”

Angela sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and Colin realized it was probably his presence hindering her from feeding herself. Part of him wanted to get up and leave, while another part of him wanted her to get past this hurdle, and be able to feel comfortable eating in front of him.

“Angela,” he said quietly. “You can eat.”

A breath left her, and she seemed to roll her shoulders inward, balling herself. Both her parents were watching her now, their eyes darting to Colin, as if trying to figure out the problem. He didn’t want to take drastic measures and be domineering, but he desperately wanted to see some sort of positive progress with her.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low.

Her eyes lifted with hesitation.

“It’s okay. Eat. Anytime you’re hungry, you can eat.”

Finally, she picked up her toast with a shaking hand and took a tiny bite. Colin and her parents deflated of their tension, relaxing back into their seats. The Birches chatted about weather, while Colin watched Angela eating, wanting so damn badly to reward her for being a good girl. He could think of several ways.

He cleared his throat and stood. Thoughts like that were inappropriate as it was, but even more so in front of her parents. As he rinsed his coffee mug he heard a knock at the front door. He pulled out his gun from habit, although no criminal worth their salt would knock on the door.

“Stay here,” he told the Birches, who watched him.

At the door, he frowned when he saw Agent MacDonald, and begrudgingly let her in.

“Agent Douglas,” she said, smiling. “You’re back. Good to see you.”

“Mmhm.” He stowed his gun, then closed and locked the door.

MacDonald stepped in his path, moving her chestnut waves from her shoulder. “We should really have our talk today.”

“Sure. Later.” He moved around her, heading toward the kitchen with the other Agent on his heels. None of the Birches looked thrilled at the sight of her.

“Good morning,” Agent MacDonald said with false cheeriness.

Mrs. Birch offered her coffee without a smile.

“No, thank you. I’ve had mine already.”

“Well,” Mr. Birch said. “Before everyone gets started today, my wife, Lanie, and I would like to tell you our plan. We know we can’t stay here forever. We’ve discussed places in the world where we can start over with our new identities, and we’ve decided on The Netherlands. Angela knows a little of the Dutch language already.”

Colin’s gut twisted. The thought of Angela moving far away grew a protective beast inside him. He would follow her wherever she went, unless the Birches requested otherwise. He wasn’t ready to let her go. He had to keep her safe.

“That sounds like a good choice,” Agent MacDonald said. “Do you have your new identity paperwork yet?”

“Yes,” Mr. Birch answered. “We received everything yesterday. We’d really prefer not to take Angela there until we’ve secured a place to live, so Lanie and I are leaving this afternoon to look for a home out there and get everything squared away. We’ll be back in a few days for Angela. Hopefully no longer than a week.”

He reached down for his daughter’s hand and she smiled shyly up at him. “This okay with you, pumpkin?”

“Yes,” she said. Her eyes briefly met Colin’s, making his pulse sprint.

Mrs. Birch caught the direction her daughter’s eyes had gone, and she looked up at Colin.

“And what are your plans, Agent Douglas, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nae, I don’t mind. But I haven’t yet decided where I’ll go when I leave Scotland.”

“Of course,” said Lanie. “Well, we hope you’ll consider making your home in The Netherlands, too. It’d be an honor and a comfort to have you close by.”

He held back his grin. Agent MacDonald’s eyes nearly popped out, and as she opened her mouth to say something, Colin blurted, “You’re very kind. I will consider it.” This shut the psychologist up long enough to allow the Birches to rise and say their temporary good-byes.

Mrs. Birch took Colin’s hands and reached up on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “We’ll be back soon. Thank you again, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Birch. Angela will be safe here.”

“Lanie, please. And I know she will be.” She gave him a wink and squeezed his hands before leaving.

He liked that woman, though he knew she might not be as kind if she knew all he’d done and the thoughts he still had toward her daughter.

The afternoon was filled with packing and bustling. Colin could see Angela was stressed about her parents leaving. And Agent MacDonald was stressed about not being able to begin her question session with Angela straight away, which amused him, because Lanie Birch wouldn’t allow the Agent anywhere near her daughter. She and Mr. Birch probably kissed and hugged Angela a thousand times before they made it to the door.

The second Angela’s parents were gone, Agent MacDonald pounced.

“I trust you had a lovely day yesterday,” she said to Angela. “Follow me, and we’ll pick-up where we left off.”

Angela followed with her head down, and Colin frowned. He didn’t understand why the agency was forcing this woman down their throat. It didn’t seem like the best thing for Angela at the moment. He decided to stay near, in case there were any more incidences where Agent MacDonald felt the need to wield a needle.

He stationed a chair right outside the fucking door and opened the newspaper. At the sound of the rustling the door swung open and Agent MacDonald peered down at him.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing out here?” she asked.

He leaned back, unruffled by her tone. “I promised her parents she’d be safe.”

“I’ve got a gun to protect her, as well, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Double the protection. Excellent.” Colin went back to reading the paper.

“Let me do my job.”

“Nobody’s stopping you. I’m only sitting here.”

She
hmphed
and shut the door.

Colin grinned. Truly, he just didn’t want this woman’s personality to overpower Angela while her mindset was already of a submissive nature. Agent MacDonald was likely to push for the information she wanted, despite how it would affect Angela. He knew her type. She was more of an agency bully than a helpful shrink. Colin had dealt with many of her types when it came to Graham over the years. The difference was, Graham would shut down and clam up, giving no information whatsoever, while Angela would allow it to be painfully extracted.

He wouldn’t hesitate to put MacDonald out on her fancy arse.

Their voices inside were low, lulling. Colin didn’t try to make out what they were saying, though he would have loved to be a fly on the wall. Just to know Angela better and hear her thoughts and feelings.

Noontime came and went. Colin looked at his watch and shook his head. They should be stopping to eat. He’d give them one more hour before interrupting and demanding they take a break. His intervention ended up not being necessary, as forty-five minutes later the door opened and Angela slipped out, heading for the restroom without looking his way.

Agent MacDonald watched from the door, a look of awe in her eyes. “Her story is fascinating,” she whispered. “The meticulous way they broke her down and actually got her to care for him. She doesn’t even realize…”

Colin bit down hard, grinding his teeth. “Her story is tragic and unfortunate. Not fascinating.”

The woman blinked at him. “Well, I assure you from a psychological perspective it’s quite riveting. I’d love to know what you experienced in there.”

He wouldn’t be telling her a fucking thing about his time at the villa.

Angela returned and Colin stood, blocking her entrance to the office, looking at Agent MacDonald.

“You need to stop for lunch.”

She sighed. “Fine. But make it quick.”

Colin led Angela to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which had been fully stocked by the Birches. He pulled out the makings for sandwiches and got to work.

“You like turkey sandwiches?” he asked.

She gave a small nod. “I can make them.”

“No, I’ve got it. Have a seat.”

She slid into a chair and pulled knees up, resting her chin on them.

Colin sat across from her, placing the napkin with her lunch in front of her. He’d even cut it in half. But once again Angela only stared at it. He glanced toward the kitchen door and hall, but they were alone. An urge rose up in Colin, and he wanted to smack it down, but he found himself following it, with a hammering in his chest. He lifted Angela’s sandwich to her mouth and she opened her lips, taking in the offering and biting.

She would do anything he wanted, Colin realized. She was still his. He could demand her on her knees under the table right that moment and she’d obey. His cock sprung to life like an erotic kick and he wanted her—wanted to command her actions and feel the hum of satisfaction as he watched her obey.