Chapter Seven

Taylor leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her tired eyes as she waited in her boss’s office. She’d barely slept last night, her mind spinning out of control and her conscience twisting her into knots.

All night long she’d wrestled with her dilemma, trying to decide what to do about Dillon, and thinking of Logan. She’d been so cold to him last night, though not by choice. Did he think she was a bitch now? Had she ruined any chance of something happening between them?

By morning the cold, hard truth had settled heavy in her chest. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing, or hide her association with Dillon any longer. He may have been the most important person in her life at one point, but not anymore. He’d made so many bad choices. She couldn’t help him now, and shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences for his poor life decisions.

And Logan… She’d think about him once this meeting was over. How long was her boss going to be? She was on pins and needles waiting for him.

Pushing out a deep breath, she shifted in the chair and closed her eyes, letting herself go back in time. In an instant, she was twelve years old all over again, back in that stark, brick bungalow that had been more of a prison than a home, and yet ten times better than the home she’d been taken from.

She was in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. She and Dillon had routinely done without lunch at school, eating whatever the school offered in its breakfast program. The weekends were harder, because it often meant they went without even that. The only ingredients to be found in the fridge were a slice of bologna and stale white bread, along with some mayonnaise and mustard—and the pizza box.

The pizza was off limits for her and Dillon. They both knew it, just as they knew what the consequences would be if they dared touch it. That day, however, she was too hungry to care.

Her heart beat faster as she reached in and opened the lid of the box. Four pieces of deluxe pizza lay there, tempting her beyond bearing, making her mouth water.

Just one little piece.

Since it was Friday and their foster dad usually stopped by the bar on the way home, he’d likely be too drunk to notice if she took the smallest one. It wasn’t much, but enough to stop the awful grinding in her stomach.

Hunger got the better of her. Before she’d thought it through she was already shoving the pizza into her mouth. She barely tasted it as she devoured the first half of it in two bites, focused on eating it as fast as she could.

Footsteps behind her made her whip around. Dillon stood there in the kitchen doorway, his rangy frame filling the jambs even at fifteen. His hair was matted to his head, his T-shirt damp with sweat. Oh God, she’d missed his football game.

Those brown eyes seemed to pin her in place for a moment while she stood frozen with a mouthful of pizza she could no longer chew. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she waited for him to give her hell.

Instead, he sighed, his eyes full of an unbearable sadness. “Don’t do that again. I’ll get you pizza if you want some that bad.”

Somehow she forced the cold mouthful of cheese and dough down her tight throat. “Sorry I missed your game.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He walked past her to the sink and filled a glass with water. As he did, headlights cut across the window above the sink and the sound of a familiar engine reached them.

Dillon set his glass down, his entire back going rigid as he turned away from her. “Get to your room and stay there.”

A wave of gut-churning fear rolled over her. “No, I—”

“Go, Taylor,” he snapped.

She turned and ran for her bedroom with the pizza still in hand, shut the door and jammed her desk chair beneath the knob to help barricade it. In the dark, she whipped the covers on her bed back and climbed in, pulling them over her head.

And there in the dark silence, she wolfed down what was left of the pizza. It seemed to churn in her stomach, the rising dread threatening to make it come right back up again.

The front door to the house opened. Her foster father’s footsteps echoed along the hallway. His rough, deep voice growled something, and Dillon answered quietly. Too low for her to hear the words.

Beneath the covers, she shut her eyes tightly and held her breath, waiting. Hoping the storm would pass.

It was not to be.

Moments later she heard that angry voice reverberate down the hall. “God dammit, who the hell ate my pizza?”

Taylor bit her lip and curled her hands into fists beneath her chin, fear locking every muscle. Dillon could defuse it. Sometimes he could find a way to avoid the explosion. But she never could. It was why she always tried to make herself invisible.

“There were four pieces, and now there are only three. You think I can’t fucking count?”

He was drunk again. He was so much meaner when he was drunk.

Dillon said something in reply, his voice calm.

“You know the rules. So who the fuck did it? Her?” Angry footfalls headed down the hall, coming her way.

The breath halted in her lungs, a wave of cold breaking over her.

“It was me. I was hungry after the game, okay?” Dillon said.

“You? You little fucker, I’ll teach you to steal food from my own damn fridge.” Something heavy hit the wall a second later. She cringed, prayed.

And then the beating began.

Hot, acidic tears of guilt rolled down her face, dripped into her pillow as Dillon took the punishment meant for her. This was her fault. All her fault. She wished she’d never touched the stupid pizza.

Dillon was so strong, much stronger than her, and took it in absolute silence. But she felt each blow as if those cruel fists were hitting her own flesh. Once again, she thought of calling the police, then dismissed it. She’d already been warned what would happen if she did.

When it was over a minute later she was trembling so hard her teeth chattered. She lay in absolute terror as those heavy footfalls approached her door and paused just outside it.

A meaty fist thudded on the wooden door. “I know it was you, bitch. Don’t think I don’t know any better.” Then he belched and continued down the hall, slamming his door behind him.

A wave of relief sluiced over her. She sagged against the mattress, waited a solid five minutes to ensure he’d passed out in a drunken stupor before getting up and sneaking back to the kitchen.

Dillon wasn’t there, but there was a new dent in the drywall next to the doorframe. She swallowed and went into the living room. He wasn’t there either.

She finally found him outside on the front porch, sitting there in the dark, curled up on a rickety lawn chair facing the street. He didn’t look at her as she approached, his profile to her, the already angular jaw tight. “Dillon?”

He turned his head and she bit her lip at the sight of the blood seeping from his lips, the fresh bruise forming around his eye. “Go to bed, Tay.”

“I’m sorry,” she choked out.

He nodded once and went back to staring at the street. “I know. It’s okay. Go to bed now. He won’t bother you tonight.”

Stricken, not knowing how to fix what she’d done, she crossed to him and stroked a hand over his damp hair. “I’m so sorry…”

He reached up one hand to capture hers, tipped his head to give her a brave half-grin that broke her heart, then squeezed her hand and released it. “It’s all right. Just go to bed now.”

Taylor had wandered back to her room in a guilt-stricken haze and shut the door behind her. Then she’d rushed straight to the trash bin next to her desk and thrown up the pizza she’d eaten.

The door opening behind her yanked her from the past and made her eyes fly open. She jerked upright and swiveled in her seat to find her boss entering the office.

“Taylor.” He offered her a polite smile as he crossed to his desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No, it’s fine,” she managed, her throat aching and raw with regret.

“You said you had something urgent to tell me?”

“Yes.” She drew up straight in the chair, reaching deep for the courage to come clean.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about too.” He gathered some paperwork from a drawer in his desk and typed in something to his computer. “The footage we reviewed yesterday. It turned up some more leads, and I just got out of a briefing that gives us more evidence.” He turned the monitor so she could see it and brought up an image. The one of Dillon and the Veneno enforcer.

Her stomach tensed as she waited for the dreaded words to come.

“This man.” He pointed straight at Dillon and her heart sank. “Not only was he present at Baker’s party that day, but according to some of the men captured during the Bahamian sub operation, he was responsible for organizing the shipment. He’s the right-hand man of one of the Veneno lieutenants. Name’s—”

“Dillon Wainright.” Her voice was hollow, wooden.

If the agency was already investigating him and suspected he was linked to a Veneno lieutenant, the decision about what to do had already been taken out of her hands anyhow. If she wanted to keep her job and avoid being investigated herself, she had no choice but to come clean immediately.

Chris blinked at her in surprise. “That’s right. How did you—”

“I know him.”

His eyebrows rose. “You know him? How?”

“We were in foster care together from when I was twelve to fifteen.” For three hellish years Dillon had stuck it out with her in that house, enduring too little food and frequent beatings, all because he hadn’t wanted to leave her there alone.

Chris sat back slowly, staring at her. “Wow. Okay.” He seemed to regroup for a moment. “Have you had any contact with him since then?”

She nodded, already decided on giving just enough information to help the agency proceed with the investigation, without volunteering every detail about their relationship, or last night. She’d already betrayed Dillon by asking for this meeting. She didn’t want to be the one to bring him down as well, even if he deserved to face justice for whatever crimes he’d committed.

“A few phone calls over the years, an occasional email.” Pausing, she drew a deep breath. “And I saw him last night.”

Those keen blue eyes locked on her like lasers, making her want to squirm as much as her conscience already was. “So you recognized him on the footage yesterday and didn’t say anything.”

Heat burned in her cheeks, but the rest of her felt icy cold. “Yes.”

“Jesus, Taylor.” He got up, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he paced behind his desk for a moment. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice full of frustration.

There was no excuse. None that the agency would accept. “It was a shock to see him after so many years. And I kept hoping it was just a coincidence, him being at the party.”

He stopped and pinned her with furious blue eyes. “Well, it’s not. He’s working for one of their damn lieutenants, Taylor.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and dug her fingernails into her palms, feeling queasy. It was even worse than she’d imagined. All she could do was nod.

He pushed out an impatient sigh. “What did he want? Last night?”

“Just to see me.”

“At your house?”

“Yes. He got my address from a former social worker we used to be close to, and was there waiting when I got home.” She left out the part about him pulling a gun when Logan showed up, because she already felt stupid enough for being duped into letting Dillon into her house.

“Christ. Does he know you work for the agency?”

Prickles of cold raced down her neck, traveling along her arms to her fingertips. “He suspected. I didn’t confirm it.” But he’d known. He’d known before ever showing up at her door. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good.

He swore under his breath. “All right. Look. I’m gonna need your phone and access to your laptop and desktop.” He held out a hand.

She pulled her phone from her purse and handed it over without a word. Inside, she was shaking. Were they going to fire her for this?

“Do you know where he is right now?”

“No.” Hopefully somewhere far away where she’d never have to lay eyes on him again.

“Is he still in D.C.?”

“I don’t know.” It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d left town last night, after their conversation. Or even left the country.

Now Chris looked truly worried. “Is he going to make contact with you again?”

“I doubt it.” She’d made her feelings clear enough last night.

Taylor gave him a rundown of most of what had happened, and didn’t dare move while her boss sat back down at his desk and made a series of terse phone calls. Ten minutes later he escorted her to the boardroom where she faced an inquiry from no less than five department heads.

By the time she’d explained to them in detail everything they wanted to know, she felt empty inside and beyond exhausted. She felt…betrayed.

And scared.

Anxiety burned in her stomach. “So does this mean I’m on probation?” she asked Chris when everyone else had left the room.

He flicked a glance at her, his expression stern. “Not officially, no. But you should have come clean yesterday, the moment you recognized him. Your actions have made me question your honesty and loyalty to the agency. I can’t pretend I’m not hugely disappointed in you, Taylor.”

She lowered her eyes and nodded, the words hitting her hard. But she deserved them. “I understand.”

He stopped in the act of gathering his papers and straightened to study her a moment. “You’ve been a hard-working, invaluable member of my department since you got here. I understand why you initially withheld the information from me, and I even empathize about your situation, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“No.” The urge to fidget was so strong she had to lock her muscles to stay still.

Standing, he gathered up his papers and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on. We’ve all been putting in long hours these past few weeks. Get out of here, go home and do something relaxing.” He handed her back her cell phone.

Surprised, she took it. “Thank you.”

His blue eyes bored into hers. “If he contacts you again, tell us immediately. You may be our best hope of catching him.”

They’d likely have someone monitoring her phone anyway. “I will.”

At her desk she tidied everything up then sat there for a long moment. It had been a monumentally shitty day, made even worse because she’d not only been reprimanded by her boss, she’d also turned up the law enforcement heat on Dillon. It’s his own fault, she reminded herself, annoyed that she still cared.

She glanced at her watch. It was only a few minutes after four. The whole evening and night stretched ahead of her, long and lonely.

The thought of going home to an empty house made it seem like a weight pressed on the center of her chest. Normally she liked to be by herself, especially when she was stressed, but right now she’d kill for some company. She didn’t want to burden Charlie with all this, and Jamie had only gotten home last night. They needed alone time.

Logan.

At the very least, she owed him an apology for last night. The mere thought of seeing him made her feel better. Not that she’d unload all this on him either. That wasn’t how she operated, and it wasn’t fair to dump this on him, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Nerves tickled the pit of her stomach as she texted him.

I’m really sorry about last night. Can I drop by for a few minutes? I want to explain myself.

She didn’t even know if he’d answer her after the way she’d treated him last night.

She puttered around with some files on her desk for a while, waiting for his reply. After fifteen minutes she guessed he wasn’t going to respond, and she really didn’t blame him considering the way she’d acted—even if it had been to protect him.

And yet…an overwhelming sadness filled her that she’d crushed the fragile spark between them.

The parking lot was still mostly full when she made it to her car, the leaden gray sky overhead matching the heaviness in her chest. She’d just shifted into drive when her phone chimed with a text message.

She grabbed it from her purse, pure relief spearing through her when she saw Logan’s reply, along with his address.

Sure. I’m at home. Come by whenever.