A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(20)

Kissing her.

Am I crazy to think that we have a chance? I don’t think so. There’s no reason we can’t overcome the wounds. The scars will always be there, a map that reminds us of the past, but we have room in our lives to make new memories. Forge new commitments. Create a stronger bond.

A perfect love between two imperfect people.

I know she wants me as much as I want her. I know she’s scared and in reactive mode, wavering between fury and agreement.

Getting her to trust me is my actual mission, I see.

A wave crashes hard against the shore and I realize we’re like the tides. An invisible force pulls us toward and away, close then far, the back and forth inevitable.

An ache in my bones, my biceps, my heart, my cock turns emotional and physical at the same time, making me vibrate for her. I can’t do this. I can’t not be with her.

I rub my face with my palms and wonder if I can get away with going back to The Grove to see her tonight. Under what pretense?

And will she care?

Tap tap tap.

I fly up, gun in hand, pointed at my front door, finger on the trigger. No one visits me. No one. Ever. I’ve trained the next-door neighbor not to knock on my door. She knows. If I’m on the deck, I’m fair game.

Otherwise, stay the hell away.

“Foster? It’s Paulson.”

Shit.

“What the f*ck, Mark? You know to call first.”

“I did. Went to voicemail.”

“Something wrong with Lindsay?” My blood sends a plume of heat through me.

“She’s fine.”

The heat doesn’t recede.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you’re not fine.”

I groan.

“Can we talk without the f*cking door between us? Don’t you have any manners, Drew?”

I holster my weapon and sigh, looking at the half-empty pizza plate and remaining beers in the six-pack.

“Left them all in Afghanistan,” I mutter as I unlock the door and open it to find Mr. Blond DEA Dude standing there in surfing shorts and a t-shirt, holding a six-pack.

“Don’t you have a woman warming your bed right now, Paulson? Why the f*ck are you bothering me?”

“Carrie’s fine. Great, in fact. But she’s having some girl’s weekend with her best friend.”

“How’s Amy doing?”

“Fine. Rehab’s helping her with the new arm. But I don’t want to talk about the past. Let’s talk about today.”

“No.”

“Try a different answer.”

“Fuck, no.”

“You were a suckass foot soldier.”

“I was never a foot soldier.”

“You take orders for shit.”

“I give orders, Paulson.”

“So now it’s Paulson? We’re off duty.”

“I’m never off duty.”

“And that’s why I’m here.” He plunks the six-pack down, takes one of mine, and opens it with his teeth. “Talk. You rolled a state representative today. I should be bailing you out of jail.”

“I know.”

“Dead zone in the video surveillance, huh?”

“Lindsay came up with the assailant story on her own. Even set it up by opening the loading dock door and making it look like the guy got away.”

“Jesus. She want a job at the CIA?”

“She could run the f*cking agency.”

I laugh as he hands me another beer. Six is my limit.

Maybe seven tonight.

“I’m not even going to ask why you snapped. That’s obvious. But damn, Drew. That was one calculated snap.”

“Yep.”

“And you jeopardized your entire business for it.”

I say nothing.

“I understand the vendetta.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Then help me understand.”

“Why?”

He gives me a look made of granite.

“You really have to ask that? I’m not answering with a list, Drew. I’m asking because watching you throw away everything you’ve built because you can’t keep your fists by your side in the face of an enemy isn’t you.”

Huh. Word got around fast. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Now you sound like some eighteen-year-old recruit who doesn’t know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground.”

Because sometimes it feels like I don’t.

“Blaine was one of the three attackers.”

“I got that loud and clear. Knew that already.” He takes a swig of beer and peers at me. “But you’re a better strategist.”

“I got him in a dead zone.”

“That’s still sloppy. You know better.”

“My temper got the best of me.”

“Not good enough, Drew. Still doesn’t explain it. I’ve watched you over the years. You came to Afghanistan like a hollowed-out robot, with a cold, calculating intelligence that masked a rage I’ve never seen in anyone other than shell-shocked guys with months of IED evasion under their belts. You were f*cking scary when we met. Eager scary. And with some taming, that mind of yours became our best weapon. You’re smarter than this.”