Chapter 3

 

Agent Gabe Marino pulled open the door to the Secret Service headquarters as someone else pushed it from inside.

“Hey, Max.” Gabe held out his hand. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.”

Whitney had told Gabe about their relationship, but Max hadn’t come to Thanksgiving with her, which had upset her, and he’d been in and out of their lives since then, except for his brief stint at Nick’s house on Christmas day. Gabe had decided to talk about this with his cousin, as she seemed upset by it all.

“I’d like to take Whitney to dinner. She with you?”

“No, she’s still inside.”

“I’ll go in.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and studied the guy. He looked like shit: pasty complexion, bags under his eyes. Hair askew. “Something wrong, Max?”

He took in a breath. “I can’t lie to you. Whitney and I are changing the parameters of our relationship.”

“You getting married?” Now, that would be news.

The guy’s face tightened, like he was in pain. “No. I’ll let her explain. If you’ll excuse me.” Max walked away.

Gabe frowned. The vibe from the man who’d become the close friend of all Whitney’s cousins was screwy. Gabe went through security and took the elevator to the threat-assessment floor. Once inside, he saw Whitney staring at the bank of computers that took up most of the far wall. He crossed to her.

“Hey, kiddo.” She’d be pissed he called her that here, but he loved to tease her.

She pivoted. Instead of anger on her face, she looked like she had the first time Gabe had gotten shot. “Hey, Gabe.” Her voice was quivery.

He took her hand. “Time to be done here, cuz. Come on, I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Okay.” Turning to the analyst, she said, “Call me when the search is completed.”

“Probably not until tomorrow morning, Whitney. Go with your cousin.”

Gabe waited until they got into his car. He didn’t start the engine. Before he could ask, she blurted out, “Max and I aren’t together anymore. Well, as together as we ever were.”

He did not expect that! “Why?”

“He wants to see someone else he thinks he could make a life with. He’s entitled to that.”

“You two can’t make a life together?”

“No, he wants kids.”

“Whitney, I never understood your refusal to have a family. I know what you said. You were only five when your parents died. The event traumatized you. You won’t do that to a child you brought into the world.”

“You do understand, then.”

“I know why. I don’t understand your psyche.”

She gave a feeble laugh. “Now, there’s dangerous territory.”

He smiled.

“I can’t bring myself to even consider having a child. I saw a shrink, you know. She said childhood trauma of being on the plane with my parents, lying under them in the rubble as they died scarred me. She wasn’t sure the effects of the event could be completely eradicated.”

“I guess. In some ways, it’s surprising you invested in anyone.”

She snorted. “You guys were a given. You showered me with so much love, I couldn’t help but invest.”

“What about Max?”

“He was safe. Ironic, huh, because he dodges bullets. But he didn’t ask any more of me than I could give.”

“Until now.”

“No, actually, not even now. He broke the relationship off without even consulting me. He met someone else.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I was the one who pushed, told him I loved him. You know, romantically. The upshot was that he couldn’t accept only that. He shouldn’t. He wants a baby. He’ll have one with Angela Grimes.”

Gabe could see in the lights from the parking lot that she was struggling not to cry. He reached for her.

“No, don’t. I’m not going to cry about this. I have to figure out a way to live my life without him.”

“Ask for a transfer.”

“I already said I wouldn’t work with him as a partner anymore. It would be too hard. But that’s not going to be enough. So I talked to Drew about leaving this office. Right now, I can’t imagine watching him marry someone else, become a dad.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Oh, honey.”

She took in a deep breath. “So I’m thinking about field-office work. Where agents do everything. Protection. Threat analysis on a smaller scale.”

“It’s only been a couple of days. Don’t make any rash decisions. He might have second thoughts.”

“First, he already has. He’s suffering too, thinks maybe he made a bad decision. But it doesn’t matter. Now that I know he wants a family, I could never deprive him of that. I love him too much.”

“You’re a good person, Whit. You’ll find somebody else.”

Now she gave him an askance look. “Yeah. Like you ever thought about finding somebody else when things weren’t working out with Macy.”

“You’re right about that. I can’t imagine I ever would have. But it could be different for you. You’re still young.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it, Gabe.”

o0o

Max’s stomach was turning somersaults when he showed up to the small brownstone Angie had bought over a decade ago when she first came to D.C. She’d scrimped and saved every penny to make the payments until her salary had increased enough to afford the place comfortably. He admired her dedication to setting goals and pursuing them, even if he and Whitney had always owned condos, which were not permanent in their minds and easy to sell.

Angie opened the door after he rang the bell. He’d never seen her like this. She was dressed in a pink one-piece outfit, low cut in front and satiny. Her long hair was down and beautiful. Desirable. He knew what she expected of him. She’d said so last weekend…

“I understand we can’t make love until you tell Whitney.” They’d been kissing on her couch. Her hand trailed to his belt. Below. She cupped him. “But as soon as she knows, I mean to have you, John Blackwell.”

He’d laughed.

“And you know what. Don’t bring any condoms. Let’s see what happens.”

“Huh? Not sure if we should do that now.”

“Of course we should…”

Later, he’d wondered if she was sealing the deal, to quote Whitney. If she got pregnant right away, there was no turning back.

Sounds to me like you want to turn back, buddy.

“Max, why are you just standing there? Come in. It’s freezing.”

He held out the wine he brought. “For you.” He stepped inside.

Her home was meticulous. She’d furnished the place, again piece by piece, with quality antiques, and they suited her. He wondered again how an old-fashioned girl like her had become a Secret Service agent.

“I’ll pour us some.”

Dropping down on an upholstered couch while she opened the wine, he took in the knickknacks, which probably cost a fortune. Tonight, they made him feel claustrophobic. She returned with the drinks and they sat close on the couch. A sexy scent filled his head.

She clinked her glass with his. “To us,” she said smiling.

He clinked back.

With a steady gaze, she watched him. “Bad day?”

“Very bad. It was hell being with Whitney.”

“Did you have to be with her?”

He explained about the case.

“I wish you had a different partner. We didn’t discuss that, but…”

“Nothing to worry about there. She asked for a change. Drew Michener said he’d arrange it after this case.”

“That will be better.” She kissed his cheek. “Meanwhile, we don’t have to wait…for us.”

“I know.” He gulped his wine.

“You don’t sound happy about being with me. Like we planned.”

“I’m tired and ornery. Not the best turn-on, Angie.”

“I can make you feel better.” She whispered in his ear, “Time to tear off the Band-Aid completely.”

His hand went to her hair. It smelled like her perfume. Whitney’s hair always had the scent of lemons…Jesus Christ, what was he doing, thinking about her now? Damn it. He hated this waffling. Gently, he moved Angie back, took her glass and put both his and hers on the table. Then stood. Held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s make love.”

This would be for the best; he knew it in his mind, even if his heart hadn’t quite caught up yet.

o0o

Gabe took Whitney to Macy’s Place, though it was forty-five minutes out of the city. Fatigue had invaded every muscle of her body, but she didn’t want to be alone. So when he suggested dinner there, she agreed. Anything to get her out of her own head. They walked into the restaurant in Maryland at about eight o’clock.

Macy looked up from pouring a draft beer. “Oh, wow, I didn’t expect you back so soon.” She served the brew, then ducked under the opening in the bar. “Whitney, how nice to see you.”

Whitney hugged her, absorbing the warmth of this wonderful woman who loved her cousin. “Good to be here.”

Gabe put his hand on his wife’s neck and pulled her close. Macy had delicate features, freckles and strawberry-blond hair. A real girl next door. “Is it too late to eat?”

“Never for you.”

“I’d like to see Simon first.” Whitney gave what she hoped passed for a smile. “God, I love having all these nephews.”

“I love being in this family.”

After she and Gabe visited with Simon, they found piping-hot lasagna on a table, along with a bottle of Chianti. Whitney’s stomach growled as they sat. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Did you eat this weekend?”

“Not much. Mostly I was sick to my stomach.”

“You always get this way when you’re upset with personal things. It used to worry us to no end.” Gabe’s dark hair and eyes sometimes gave him a dangerous air, but with her, and with Macy, she’d guess, he was a pussycat.

“Yeah. I remember.”

They dug in. The smell of sauce and spice and cheese filled her head. She took several bites before she slowed down and sipped the wine. Her brow furrowed. “The lasagna tastes great. But the wine is sour.”

“I don’t think so. Your stomach’s off. Don’t drink it. Want a beer?”

“No thanks. I’ll just have the water.”

When they finished the meal, he folded his hands together on the table. “Want to talk some more about Max?”

“No. But I would like to discuss what I could do professionally. I’ve always thought New York would be a great place to work. There’s plenty of opportunity to do diverse things, which Max and I both like.” She scowled. “Oh, shit. I have to stop thinking in we terms.”

“You do. And yes, the field office in the Big Apple is great. A colleague of mine still works there.”

“Who?”

“C.J. Ludzecky. She married into the O’Neil family.”

“I always thought former President Wainwright and Bailey O’Neil’s story was so romantic.”

“Yeah. But tough. I heard they had a hard time getting together.”

“Love sucks.” She shook her head. “It keeps coming back to him.”

“It will for a while, Whit.”

Macy approached the table with coffee. Gabe touched her hand. Whitney was going to miss those little demonstrations of affection. “Hey, want to join us?”

“Soon. I still have bar duty. Want dessert?”

“Not me. Thanks, love.”

“I’ll pass. Great food, Macy.”

Her new sister-in-law poured coffee. The pungent scent seemed stronger tonight, bitter. Whitney swallowed hard. Stared at the cupful.

Then she threw back her chair and bolted toward the ladies’ room. She made it to the toilet before she threw up the meal she’d eaten. Afterward, she sat back on her haunches. “Damn you, John Blackwell.”

o0o

Max watched Angie in the slivers of moonlight coming through the blinds, adding even more romance to the candles scented with vanilla, the dim lighting. She’d made the setting perfect. But to Max, the room was cloying. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

“I know,” Angie said, moving in. “Me, too. Finally, us together.”

Could she have misinterpreted his feelings so acutely?

Her hands went to his shirt. He’d left his coat and tie downstairs. She unfastened the buttons, kissing the chest she bared. Her ministrations were soft. He wasn’t used to that. Most of the time Whitney clawed at him.

He shed the garment, let it fall to the floor. Her hands went to his belt. Undid it. Trousers, briefs joined his shirt with a jangle of the belt. She knelt and removed his shoes and socks. It was odd when she stood. He, unclothed; her, not.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

When she pivoted away, she faced a mirror. Trying to get into the mood, he held her gaze in the glass as the zipper rasped down. Beneath the outfit, she wore only lacy pink panties. He slipped his hand inside the front of them. Touched her intimately for the first time. His stomach cramped. But he continued until she was writhing beneath his hand.

“Not this way. I want you inside me.” She snuggled her behind back into him. And stopped. “Not enough foreplay?”

He wasn’t hard. “Guess not. I told you, I—”

“—had a bad day, I know.”

Turning, she pushed him to the bed. “I can make you forget.”

He sat down, and she knelt in front of him. With trust filling her face, she lowered her head.

And Max felt like a heel.

Twenty minutes later, she’d donned a robe and he’d put on his navy briefs. They sat back down on the bed.

He took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“You warned me about your mood. I should have listened.” She waited. “This ever happened to you before?”

“Sure. To all guys.” Though he couldn’t remember having the experience, he must have. Sometime.

“We’ll try again.”

“Not tonight, though. I’ve had enough humiliation.”

“Stay. We can give it another go in the morning.”

“I—”

His phone buzzed.

“Leave it.”

“I can’t. I’ve got an active case.” He picked up his pants, got the cell. “Blackwell.”

“Max, Michener here. We finished the search. I didn’t know if you wanted to come in tonight and check the results or wait till morning.”

“No, I’ll come tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s what Whitney said, too.”

“Whitney’s coming in?”

“Uh-huh. See you soon.”

He clicked off. “I have to go.”

“Whitney’s going, too?”

“Don’t make too much out of this, Angie. It’s work.”

“Sure. Well, call me tomorrow.”

With that he dressed hurriedly, then turned to her. “Again, I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time.”

“What would be better is if you didn’t sound relieved.”

“What? No. I have to go.”

He hustled out of the room, grabbed his coat and made it to his car with a blank mind. But once inside, he admitted to himself he was indeed relieved.

And impotent, too. Jesus Christ, what next?

o0o

Whitney’s eyes blurred as she stared at the screen. Everyone else except her and Max had left because it was so late. She pulled the heavy sweater she’d replaced her suitcoat with tighter around her. “Who knew twenty-five people had such a huge presence on social media. Don’t they have a life?”

Max chuckled. “Doesn’t appear that way.” He was tired, too, and upset. She’d done her best today to keep things calm, as had he, but neither of them was dealing well with their split. He glanced at the clock. “It’s late. How far do you want to go?”

“Let’s send a copy to our tablets, and in the morning, we can review the details further on the way out to Revere.” She yawned. “God, I’m tired.”

“Me, too. I’m glad I got to see you again, though.”

“I, um”—God, this was hard—“I thought you wouldn’t come in. I thought you’d be with Angela.”

“I was.”

“Oh.” She turned away fast. Dizziness swamped her. She grabbed on to the desk. Swayed.

“Whitney? What?”

“Give me a sec.” She counted to ten. Tried to clear her head.

He moved in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m dizzy.”

“Did you and Gabe eat?”

“So to speak.”

He grasped her arms. She felt strong but looked like she was going to dissolve like mist over the lake. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, Max. Let’s leave.”

“Not until I know you’re okay.”

She closed her eyes.

“Are you going to get sick?”

“Not again.”

“You already got sick today?”

“After supper. Don’t worry about me. You know how I react to my family, and I guess with you.”

“Fucking son of a bitch.” He spat out the words, knowing no one else was here. “I caused this.”

“I have to sit down.”

“Let’s go to the lounge. There’s a couch in there.”

“I’d rather go home.”

“You’re not driving anywhere.”

Together, she and Max headed to the staff lounge, where she sat on a couch. They’d gotten new furniture in here, and the long leather sofa was wide and comfortable. She stretched out with a pillow under her head. He sat on the coffee table in front of her. Took her hand. Held it between the two of his.

“We shouldn’t be touching like this. We need to make some rules for when we’re together.”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I’m worried about you. I can’t stop thinking about you. How I hurt you. How I’m already missing you.”

“You’ll get over the feelings.” She waited. “Angela must not have liked that you came in tonight.”

He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind.”

“Don’t stop now. Today’s been a dud anyway. What could make it worse?”

“Whitney, stop.”

“I…oh, fuck, you had sex didn’t you?” Her face brightened. “Wasn’t it good?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Whitney’s defenses were down and she was exhausted. So she goaded him. “Come on, Max. Tell me.”

“No, we didn’t have sex.”

“Why?”

“We tried. I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?”

“Couldn’t get it up.”

It took her a minute to internalize what he said. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud.

“This is not funny.”

“It is to me. Boy, we’re a pair. We split up. I blow my cookies and now can barely stand up. You were a dud in the bedroom. Something’s wrong with this picture, Max.”

“I know.” Now he yawned. “Hell, I’m a wreck.”

“You’re exhausted. So am I. Scoot in behind me. We can comfort each other and start this split all over again in the morning.”

Max didn’t even hesitate. He’d already shed his suit coat. He kicked off his shoes and crawled in behind her. His arms went around her, and her hair tickled his cheek. “Just for a few minutes.”

Whitney wondered what the hell they were doing. Then her eyes started to close and she lay back into his arms. For a little while, they’d both be okay.