Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(41)

He’s waiting for another agent, or cop, or . . . the way he’s looking at my mouth right now, I’m afraid to think that he’s waiting for me. When did that happen?

Thank God his work phone pings, ending the awkwardness.

“Okay . . . 12 should be entering his condo any minute,” he confirms, reading his screen.

All thoughts of anyone else disappear as I find my way over to my window. “Did he meet with 24?” I ask, peeking past the edge of the blinds.

In time to get a clear shot of that dark-haired bartender stepping into Luke’s bedroom before the blinds shut.

It feels like a punch to my stomach.

“Bill said he’s not alone.”

“Yeah, I see that.” I hear the strain in my own voice. And Luke closed his blinds this time. He’s never bothered to before. He’s hiding her from me. He took me out tonight, kissed my hand goodbye in such a sweet, genuine gesture, and then went to the bar to pick his bartender up.

I’m so stupid.

“Clara?”

I turn back to see Warner watching, a stern expression on his face. “You okay?”

“Of course.” I glance back, taking in the glow of the light within his room.

A mental picture of what’s going on behind it hitting me like a wave of sickness. This is what he does. I knew this. It shouldn’t bother me, and yet it does.

“Clara.” Warner’s voice is right behind mine now, the warning in it.

“What?” I step away from the window, around him, and head back to the couch, downing half my glass of wine. Suddenly, I want my guest gone. I want to be alone.

But I get the sense he’s not going anywhere. “You’re not falling for 12, are you?”

“Jesus, Warner! What do you think I am, an idiot?” I burst out laughing, releasing some of the tension in my body. “I’m not going to fall for my target. What’s wrong with you? He’s a f*cking criminal! You think I’m going to just throw my entire life away for some guy?”

“Is that why you’re yelling at me now?”

“I’m not . . .” I temper my tone. I am yelling. “I’m not yelling at you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened,” he offers, all traces of his usual smile gone.

“What do you mean? What does that mean?”

He sighs, shaking his head to himself, like he’d rather not tell me. “I was handling a human trafficking case two years ago, with a female undercover agent,” he begins. “She was good. Smart. Our target was this young Turkish guy. We were making great headway in the case. Until she fell in love with him.”

“Oh, please, Warner. I—”

He holds his hands up. “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen it happen. Woman sees the good side in the guy, wants to change him, thinks she can . . .”

“So you think I’m an idiot.”

“Special Agent Mason wasn’t an idiot.”

“She fell in love with a guy who traffics humans, Warner.”

“She wasn’t an idiot,” he reiterates, his words slow, his voice loud and hoarse, full of emotion. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of you. Young, like you. Still not completely jaded by the job.” His eyes drift down to my mouth.

The silence in my condo is deafening. Even Stanley’s normally heavy breathing seems to have stalled. I check my tone, sensing an explosion if I don’t tread lightly. “She got fired?”

“I wish.” His faint head shake answers me. “Found her in her cover house with a bullet in her head.”

A shiver slips through my body. I’ve heard of undercovers having death threats shouted at them at trials and I myself have had the shit kicked out of me once while trying to buy heroin, but actually getting killed on the job is rare. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Warner bows his head for a moment in silence, and I can see that it’s still heavily under his skin. “Not sure how he found out, but knowing how hard she was falling, I’d bet she told him. So . . . don’t do anything stupid, like fall for your target. I don’t want to bury another agent.” He studies me with big hazel eyes, giving me a brief glimpse of the sadness behind them.

I give his shoulder a friendly rub. “Don’t worry about me, Warner.”

He shrugs. “He’s a good-looking guy. Sounds nice enough. Could trip up anyone.”

“You want me to set you two up, don’t you? Forget me. Maybe my big brother can get in close with him and crack this case.”

“Alright . . .” The tension in the room vanishes instantly as he tosses his empty can into the kitchen sink. “Get some sleep, wise-ass.” He ducks out of my condo, a little more quickly than usual.

Warner’s words of warning linger in the back of my mind long after I crawl into bed, Stanley snoring by my side. My bedroom blinds are drawn open, eyes locked on the condo directly across from me.

My heart rate spikes when Luke strolls out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his waist, the ridges in his stomach hard and defined, even from this distance. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with water from the fridge tap. I guess he worked up a thirst.

My thoughts are laced with bitterness, but that doesn’t stop me from moving. Before I realize it, I’m out of bed and standing a few feet away from the glass, admiring him as he sucks back a glass, and then another. Setting the glass down on the counter, he stares at it for a long moment. And then his attention suddenly shifts out the window.