Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(50)

I ran the group through the paces at lightning speed and stopped at my desk only long enough to enter the PT scores into the mainframe before dashing off to the locker room to shower and change into more appropriate attire.

Throughout my career, I’d learned to come to work prepared for anything. Running, swimming, shopping, clubbing, walking around Central Park, a last-minute foreign-dignitary visit. I had outfits for every occasion on hand that I could slip into in a New York minute. And on days like this it meant I could get ready at the office without having to stop home first, which meant I’d be able to see Allison sooner. Not that I was looking forward to that or anything. Nope. Not at all.

I stepped out of the office, trying to walk and answer an email on my BlackBerry at the same time. The guys had been at the bar enjoying the wheels-up party for a while, it seemed, and they were demanding my presence ASAP. I was in the middle of sending them a message that I was on my way and to calm down, when my personal cell phone rang, scaring the hell out of me. I’d been working so hard I hadn’t even looked at the thing for days. Everyone important who could possibly need to talk to me also had my work cell-phone number, so I hadn’t given it any thought.

I glanced at the display. Hmm. Private caller. Rory again? Probably not. She never bothered to block her number. Besides, she should’ve been napping before her night shift.

“Hello?” I said as I continued to fumble clumsily with my other phone in my left hand. I dropped it and let slip a muffled curse as it skittered across the sidewalk.

“Hey,” was the quiet reply.

My heart stopped beating and shriveled to something the size of a walnut as I recognized Lucia’s voice. I sucked in a harsh breath, and my throat burned from all the car exhaust and diesel fumes I’d just inhaled. “Hey.”

“How was the visit?”

“Fine.” I bent to retrieve my erstwhile phone.

“Everything went okay?”

“It did. Thanks for asking.”

“No problem.”

My mind was working overtime. What could she possibly want? I thought she’d been abundantly clear two nights ago that she never wanted to speak to me again, so the motive behind this encounter escaped me completely. But I didn’t appreciate the unpleasant feelings she was stirring up. My insides were wilting, and my chest felt like it was being crushed in a vise.

“So how are you?”

“I’m good. You?” This was insane. I wished she’d just get to the point. I still felt terrible that I’d hurt her, but I certainly hadn’t done it on purpose, and my guilt was now taking a backseat to annoyance. She’d called me. She obviously wanted something. But what? I had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to her yell at me some more.

“Good.” There was a long pause.

“Are you okay, Luce?”

I heard a heavy sigh. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, oh, hell, I don’t know.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I think we should talk.”

“What’s left to say? I think you covered all the bases pretty well.”

Maybe that was mean, but she’d effectively wounded me with the insults she’d so callously slung my way. She’d injured me pretty badly, in fact, and, frankly, I wasn’t eager to open myself up to any more emotional battery. I wasn’t sure my fragile ego could handle it.

“How about ‘I made a mistake’?”

“A mistake about what?”

“About you. About us.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so you have a past. Everyone does. I guess I just wasn’t prepared for a visual reminder of that fact, and I overreacted.” A beat. “Plus, I was pretty drunk when I came to see you, so I wasn’t exactly rational.”

I gaped at my reflection in the glass of the adjacent building. I looked about as shocked as I felt. She had to be kidding. The words “heartless” and “emotionally bankrupt” still echoed loudly in my head, leaving deep scores. I couldn’t even begin to find the words to describe the damage her accusation of me purposely trying to make people fall in love with me for my own amusement had caused. She couldn’t seriously expect me to just forget about everything she’d said the other night and go on as if nothing had happened.

“I stopped by your apartment a couple times to have this conversation face-to-face, but you weren’t home.”

“No. I’ve been busy. Working. You know, the visit.”

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Okay.”

Another long pause. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

“You feel what you feel. I can’t change that.” I wished she didn’t, but I couldn’t really argue with her. Feelings were feelings. Right or wrong, they just were. I didn’t have to like them, but that wouldn’t make them go away.

“I don’t though. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

My gut twisted painfully, and my hands shook a little in my nervousness. “I don’t understand.”

“All that stuff I said. I didn’t really mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it? It had to have come from somewhere.”

“Well…I was drunk, like I said. So I wasn’t thinking.”

“There must’ve been something behind it. People don’t just say stuff like that for no reason.” I desperately wanted to believe her. I longed to accept her excuse and chalk it up to alcohol-induced stupidity, but I couldn’t.