Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(95)
“I didn’t let them go anywhere,” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually in control of everything that happens in the Department of Homeland Security.” He stood up, looking immeasurably tired, but she had no sympathy. “This is a complicated situation, LeBlanc.”
“That doesn’t—”
“Sit tight.” He patted her on the shoulder and pulled open the door. “I’m working on it.”
Fuming, she watched him walk away. Derek and Cole were in jail. Even if Gordon tried to fix the situation, the arrest put their careers in jeopardy.
Potter appeared at her elbow. She blinked at him, unable to believe he was still wearing a coat and tie at this hour.
“I heard about Vaughn,” he said.
If he said anything about “extreme measures,” she was going to slap him. Instead, he took out his wallet and tugged out a business card.
“Sounds like he could use a good lawyer.” He handed her the card. “Just so happens I know one.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Elizabeth stepped into her hotel room and leaned back against the door. Sunlight seeped through the gap in the curtains. She looked down at the bed she’d shared with Derek just last night.
Or the night before. Timing was a blur. Her brain felt like oatmeal. Her eyes stung from fatigue, and the entire right side of her body was covered in road burn from her struggle with Fatima.
She dug her phone from her pocket and dialed the lawyer Potter had recommended. The man was a nationally known criminal-defense attorney, but he was Washington-based, and his influence didn’t extend to Houston, from what she could tell.
He answered, and she snapped to attention.
“Hi, it’s—” She cleared her throat. “This is Elizabeth LeBlanc with the FBI. I’m calling to get an update on—”
“They’ve been released.”
Relief swamped her. “Oh, my God, thank you.”
“I wish I could take credit, but I had nothing to do with it. The jail supervisor told me they were picked up an hour ago.”
A rap on the door behind her made her jump. She peered through the peephole.
“Thank you. So much. I have to go.” She stuffed the phone into her pocket and jerked open the door.
“Hey,” Derek said.
She threw her arms around him. He was warm and solid, and he smelled like fresh soap.
She pulled back and gazed up at him. “You’re really out?”
“I’m really out. We both are.” He glanced over his shoulder, and she noticed his truck parked across the lot. With Cole in the passenger’s seat. And then she noticed his damp hair, his fresh T-shirt.
“You’re leaving.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
“I came to say good-bye.”
She stared up at him and felt her throat close. She didn’t trust herself to talk, so she just stood there. He was leaving. And all she wanted to do right now was drag him into the room with her and tackle him onto the bed. His eyes simmered.
“I can’t,” he said quietly, reading her mind.
She nodded. “When will you—” She caught herself. Why bother asking? It would only spark an argument. “I can’t believe you were arrested,” she said instead.
“I can. But they dropped everything when we agreed to the cover story. The Secret Service thwarted an assassination plot and took down the terrorists.”
Her eyebrows tipped up.
“With help from the FBI,” he added.
She glanced past him at Cole, and her stomach tensed. “So . . . will you make it back in time?”
“If we shotgun it.”
She looked into his whiskey-brown eyes, searching for a reflection of all the emotion she was feeling. But he seemed so calm, so okay with everything, and meanwhile, she was on the verge of tears.
His gaze softened. “Come here,” he said, pulling her into a hug, and she felt the tears spill over. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. He kissed the top of her head.
“I hate this.” Her words were muffled against his shirt. “I never wanted to be the weepy girlfriend begging you not to go.” She squeezed him tighter. “But I don’t want you to leave.”
He pulled back and looked down at her. “So that’s it, then? You’re my girlfriend?” He cupped her face in his hands and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “Because I’m going to be gone for a while, and I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. A long-distance relationship. She didn’t know if she could stand it. She didn’t know anything except, “I love you.”
He smiled and kissed her.
She pulled back. “But Derek—”
“Always a but.”
“This is going to be so hard.”
“Hard is good,” he said firmly. “Hard tests your commitment.”
“But it’s going to be really hard. Harder than before, and that was hard enough. I hated that. I—”
“You’re right, it’ll be hell. But we’ll take it one day at a time. That’s the only way to do it.” His look was intent, and she felt a flutter of hope. He wanted to do this. “There’ll be times when I can’t call you or write, but I need you to have faith. I need you to know I’m thinking about you.”