In the Air Tonight (16 page)

When he’d arrived here, he’d run, but mainly to the old cabin on the bar’s property, sometimes to Doc’s house, because the man seemed to understand without ever asking any questions.

Doc had served in the Army for a long time, had been Special Forces as well, and had been Mace’s deciding factor in enlisting. Now Dylan and Cam—men he respected and had served with—wanted him out, working with them, without controls or limits beyond the ones they set for themselves.

He wondered if he could do it. If he wanted to. The thought of being his own boss was intriguing. He could leave this place for good, start over.

He would have before if Gray and Cael and Reid hadn’t insisted he keep it.

He shoved the photo sleeve back where it belonged when he heard Paige rustling around in the bedroom, but stayed in the attic, not ready to face her yet.

If she touched him, she’d know all about him. More
than he ever cared to reveal to anyone, so why the hell did he want so badly for her to know? Why did it hurt so damned much that she didn’t try harder to touch him?

More questions than answers—there were always more questions than answers these damned days.

P
aige wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go after last night’s disaster and today’s string of events. But the only logical place for Vivi to sleep tonight was the room Paige herself had first slept in rather than the couch, where she had no privacy, as the upstairs only boasted three bedrooms and the two baths, and so she went upstairs while Vivi went to her car to grab her things.

As Paige did so, Caleb followed her—quietly, for such a big man, and he kept a large distance between them, for her comfort, stayed in the doorway but somehow managed not to block her exit.

“I have no excuse for what I did,” he started, looked so contrite during his second apology that she wanted to cry for him.

“You were upset. Not yourself.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “I don’t know who I am. But I freaked you out. I don’t know what else to do but say I’m sorry, and I know that’s not good enough.”

“It is.”

“But you don’t believe I didn’t kill Gray.”

He said it so bluntly that she winced. “I don’t know the truth, Caleb. I wish I could give both of us the clear-cut answer we’re looking for.”

He nodded and she wondered if it was possible for
her to use her gift for good. Letting Caleb know he wasn’t responsible for the tragedies of that mission was something she desperately wanted to do for him.

But she was too afraid to try. “You’ve remembered so much—there’s every reason to believe you’ll remember everything.”

“Whether I want to or not,” he added with a deep resignation that made her ache. He turned away before she could tell him that secrets were never good, but decided that would sound trite anyway, even if she knew it to be true.

She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and pushed the sleeves of the flannel shirt up. There really wasn’t much choice about where to move her things and so she packed quickly, with the intention of bringing them into Mace’s room. Found herself drawn inexplicably to the window—the storm was showing its power now, had its teeth fully embedded, like a dog shaking a toy. She shivered as cold air leaked through the old wood. She touched the frame, pushing down to make sure the window was firmly closed and the flash took over.

Escape
.

She pulled her hand away, and then put it back. Felt the need for escape again and opened the window. Felt someone … Mace, maybe … Yes, Mace for sure, a much younger version actually going out the window.

She ran her hand over the scarred wood. Again, there was fear there. Anger too. And danger.

Growing up here hadn’t been fun for him.

She yanked her hand away. Didn’t want to learn more about him like that, didn’t want to get more attached
to this extended family of Gray’s, but she knew it was too late. With Mace especially—she’d connected with him on a level beyond that of any other man she’d been intimate with, and that scared her.

Staying here would only prolong the inevitable. She had her answers—most of them. Soon, she would leave, find a job in a hospital in another city and hope her past stayed hidden this time.

She’d leave Mace behind because she couldn’t move forward with him, maybe not with any man.

Maybe things could be different here, with him
.

But she already felt guilty about the knowledge she had of him. He hadn’t wanted her to touch him last night because he was afraid of what she’d learn about Caleb, but based on what she now knew, he was also afraid she’d find other things out about him too.

She was afraid of that as well, and Caleb’s memories were still too fresh in her mind. How these men lived with that …

The same way you do
.

She walked away from the window, dragged her suitcase into Mace’s room, heard his shower running and saw the bed, still rumpled, the way she’d left it that morning.

Slowly, she smoothed the sheets out, pulled the covers back.

She didn’t want to talk or think—and she needed to make sure Mace knew that. She needed his touch, needed an escape from everything and everyone, and he was the only one who could give her that.

By the time he walked out of the bathroom after showering, she knew without a doubt they needed to finish what they’d started last night.

The unfinished moments were simply hanging between them and she didn’t want any more loose ends. If she needed to leave this place, she had her answers about Gray, but she didn’t have the satisfaction of Mace’s body on hers.

Mace, however, eyed her with the same trepidation he had the first night she’d entered the bar. Somehow, somewhere, they’d gone backward today.

He was slick from the shower—the only thing keeping him from being exposed a thin towel tied low on his waist. Very low. Her eyes noted the light dusting of hair leading down below the towel.

“You’re staring.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen it all before, being a nurse and all.”

“You’d think.” Her fingers played with the buttons on her borrowed shirt absentmindedly, unbuttoning, seducing, praying it would work.

Another button—he couldn’t tear his eyes away now and that was what she’d wanted from the second she stepped into the bar and laid eyes on him.

“Paige …”

“I like the way you say my name.” With the final button undone, she slid the big borrowed flannel shirt easily off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground. Her bra came next, too fast for him to think about protesting, thanks to the front clasp, and she could see by the strain on the front of his towel that nearly all protest had left him.

But he waited, so still, watching to see if she’d go all the way. And yes, she would.

She skimmed her stretch pants off, kicked them out
of the way. She leaned in, letting her body press against his, even as she was careful to keep her hands off him.

“Paige, I can’t.” But his arousal told her otherwise.

“You can tie me up,” she murmured against his ear and his erection jutted against her belly as his breath quickened. “Do you like that, the idea of me all spread out and naked for you?”

It was so easy to talk to him like that. She’d stirred him up, and these consequences she could easily live with.

“Jesus, Paige—yeah, I want you like that.”

“Then go ahead, finish what we started last night. Please.”

He caught her wrists and her body surged. “Last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You were upset and vulnerable and I—”

“You owe me this,” she interrupted. “I want this.”

“Gray asked me to protect you, not take advantage of you.”

She wanted to wind her fingers through his damp hair and made fists instead. “You’re not.”

“Giving you an orgasm isn’t protecting you. I’m not putting either of us in that position again.”

He let go of her wrists and backed away. She felt her face flame. Bent to grab the shirt, slipped it on, buttoned a few buttons. “But you’ll put me in other compromising ones when it suits you, when it’s to your advantage, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

Anger struck, pure and fierce, and more than partially because he was rejecting her. “For all I know, you told Caleb to touch me.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you want to know what happened that day as badly as I do!” she shouted and then lowered her voice again. “Admit it, you’re disappointed that I wasn’t able to help more.”

“Do I want a clear-cut answer about Caleb? Sure, I can’t lie about that. Now we’re stuck in a worse kind of limbo than we were before, because Cael feels guilty about what he did to you, guilty about something he doesn’t even remember. So yes, I wish that his forcing you to touch him had yielded some goddamned answers, for all our sakes. And I’m sorry he put you through that. But I’m holding back to protect you because of what you said earlier—you asked how you were supposed to tell the difference between the men Caleb was ordered to kill in the line of duty and the men he wasn’t.”

She nodded and his recognition grew. “You think touching me could be the same. Was touching me when you first got here the same?”

“Yes,” she heard herself say. The surprise on his face was unmistakable—he recoiled slightly, the same way he had earlier, as if she’d actually pushed him. “You were so worried about hiding your secrets from me. It never crossed your mind that maybe I don’t want to know everything about you—what you’re thinking, what you’ve done. Maybe I’ll never be able to have any kind of true intimacy with anyone because I’ll always worry about invading their privacy during an act that pretty much requires touching. And I do want to touch you, Mace. Not to find out what’s in your head, but to make you feel good. I want to hug you and stroke you … feel your muscles under my palms. I want that. But what you do, the
life you lead—just that brief touch the other night scared the hell out of me.”

The look on his face told her everything. He hadn’t thought about it at all. And he shouldn’t have. “I scare you, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting me, does it?”

She shouldn’t have hit him with all of this. She’d revealed far too much too soon. “I’m still so angry. Confused,” she said. Didn’t get how the chemistry between her and Mace continued to blossom like a hothouse flower under these circumstances, but the heat swelled inside of her as he took a step closer to her.

“Join the club.”

Her throat was tight. Mouth dry. “You’re full of secrets, Mace. I feel them, and I don’t have to be psychic to know that,” she said.

He closed the gap between them. “What did you feel when you touched me?”

Murder. Fear. Danger
. “I don’t want to think about it. But that’s not the only thing I know about you.” She swallowed, wondered if it was too late to back out of this, because she’d pushed it way too far.

“What else do you know, Paige?”

“I know you used to sneak out the window of your old room,” she blurted out. “You thought of it as escaping. I felt your desperation to leave. Your pain.”

His expression went tight. “I thought touching objects didn’t work that well with you.”

“The window has a history embedded in it. Your emotions hang so heavily in that room. I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, you could help it. You want to know, you don’t want to know. You can’t have it both ways,
baby. Scared of the danger, yet that’s what you like about me. You know it’s there under the surface and you’re still here, wanting me. Wanting more. And I can’t do this now, Paige. I can’t. I’ve laid my job on the line for you—for Gray. That should be goddamned enough to satisfy you.”

But it wasn’t, not by a long shot. She wasn’t sure why she needed him to ache as badly as she did, why she wanted to see him bleed, but she did. And so she pushed again, harder, fully aware of the consequences. “You were in the news once.”

She swore the flash of anger in his eyes was strong enough to push her back a couple of steps. He didn’t say anything, though.

He would.

“You were scared a lot when you were younger. Passed around to a lot of people. Didn’t really have a home. And trust—I keep feeling the word,
trust.
”

His fists tightened at his side. “How long have you known this shit about me?”

“Since the first night we met—at my apartment.”

“You didn’t touch me then.”

“But I touched your knife.” She paused. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I thought it was Gray’s. I didn’t have to block out anything with him because I knew him so well.”

“What else do you see?” he taunted. “If you touch my mattress, will you see the last woman I screwed?”

“Maybe.”

Reeling, he dug in his pocket and tossed the familiar black pocketknife—the same one she’d touched years ago—on the bed between them. “Go ahead. Take your time. Cop a feel.”

She simply stared between it and him, unable to take him up on his dare.

M
ace took the small black penknife everywhere except on missions, because it reminded him of what he’d accomplished, what he’d been through. It wasn’t a talisman or a good luck charm. No, it was more of a warning to himself, one he heeded on a regular basis.

Don’t trust anyone
.

A few people had gotten in—he told himself that his team had out of simple necessity, but that was bullshit.

He hadn’t let anyone else in beyond those few people. Made life much less complicated.

He’d gotten that knife from one of the many men his mom let hang around their shitty motel room in whatever town or state they were living at the time.

This guy claimed to be former military—Mace would later find out that wasn’t the truth at all—and he gave Mace the knife. Said he got it in combat.

Said Mace could trust him.

The next thing he remembered was a backhanded slam and a locked closet.

He’d held that knife all night long, knowing he could use it to get the hell out of the space, knowing it was much easier to stay put, stay quiet and let the storm pass. He’d never seen that guy again, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up the knife.