Beautiful Redemption Page 11

  I pointed to the ceiling. "That's Agent Davies?"

  Thomas nodded his head.

  "Oh, thank God," I said, covering my eyes with my hand.

  He frowned. "Huh?"

  "Nothing."

  Davies cried out.

  I shook my head and pointed to the door. "You've got to tell them to quit that shit. I have to get some sleep."

  Thomas nodded again. "Yeah. I'll go." He turned for the door, but then he stopped, flipped around, and pointed at me. "You thought that was me. You were pissed."

  I made a face. "No, I wasn't."

  "Yeah, you were. Admit it."

  "So what if I was?"

  "Why were you mad?" he asked, his eyes begging me for something.

  "Because it's three a.m., and I should be sleeping."

  "Bullshit."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

  I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew that I was trying to play dumb.

  He smiled. "You thought that was me banging some chick from the bar, and you were mad at me. You were jealous."

  After several seconds of being unable to come back with a believable response, I blurted out, "So?"

  Thomas raised his chin and then reached behind him to grip the doorknob. "Good night, Liis."

  I maintained the dirtiest look I could until he shut the door, and then I walked over to the broom, scooped it up, and pushed the chair back to the table.

  After a minute or so, the yelping and banging stopped.

  I trudged to my room, stripped off my clothes, and slipped on a T-shirt before falling into the bed.

  Not only did I not hate Thomas, I liked him. Worse than that, he knew it.

  I FLIPPED MY WRIST OVER TO CHECK MY WATCH, cursing myself for sleeping in. After poking a pair of fake diamond studs into the holes in my ears, I slipped on my heels, grabbed my purse, and opened the door.

  Thomas stood there with a Styrofoam cup in each hand. "Coffee?"

  I pulled the door closed and twisted the key in the lock. "Is there milk in that coffee?" I asked.

  "Nope. Six sugars and a two creamers."

  "How do you know how I take my coffee?" I asked, taking the cup he'd pushed toward me.

  We walked together to the elevator, and Thomas pressed the button.

  "Constance."

  "Constance knows you bought me coffee?"

  "Constance told me to buy you coffee."

  The doors opened, and we stepped inside.

  I turned to him, confused. "She's up early," I grumbled. "Why would Constance tell you to do this?"

  He shrugged. "She thought you might like it if I did."

  I turned to face forward. He was answering me without answering me, my very least favorite thing. I was going to have to ask Val to teach me her human-lie-detector trick.

  "No more questions?" Thomas asked.

  "No."

  "No?"

  "You won't give me a real answer anyway."

  "Constance knows I like you. She says I've been different since you've been here, and she's right."

  "Thomas," I said, turning to him, "I...appreciate that, but I'm--"

  "Emotionally unavailable. I know. But you're also just coming out of a relationship. I'm not asking you to move in with me."

  "What are you asking?"

  "Let me take you to work."

  "That's not a question."

  "Okay. Can we have dinner alone?"

  I turned to him as the elevator opened. "Are you asking me on a date, Maddox?"

  I walked into the lobby, my heels clicking against the floor.

  After a few seconds of hesitation, he nodded once. "Yes."

  "I don't have time for anything messy. I'm committed to the job."

  "As am I."

  "I like to work late hours."

  "As do I."

  "I don't like to report to anyone."

  "Nor do I."

  "Then, yes."

  "Yes, I can take you to work? Or yes, we can have dinner?"

  "Yes to both."

  He smiled, triumphant, and then he used his back to push open the lobby doors, keeping me in view. "My vehicle's this way."

  During the drive to work, Thomas explained his evening with Taylor, what time Agent Davies had left his condo, and how inconvenient it was to have a drop-in guest even if it was his brother.

  The freeway was still damp from the rain the day before. He weaved his Land Rover in and out of traffic, and although I was used to driving in Chicago, San Diego was totally different, and I wasn't sure if I would be prepared once I found a vehicle.

  "You look nervous," Thomas said.

  "I hate the freeway," I grumbled.

  "You'll hate it more when you drive it. When does your car get here? You're going on three weeks without it."

  "It's not coming. My parents are selling it for me. I'm going to look for a new one when I have some time, but for now, public transportation works."

  Thomas made a face. "That's ridiculous. You can just ride with me."

  "It's really fine," I said.

  "Just meet me out front in the mornings. We leave at the same time anyway, and we're going to the same place. Plus, you're doing me a favor. I can drive in the carpool lane."

  "Okay," I said, looking out the window. "If you don't mind."

  "I don't mind."

  I glanced over at him. His transformation from angry, volatile boss to gentle, content neighbor--possibly more--had been gradual, so I hadn't noticed until we were side by side, the morning sun highlighting the calm in his eyes. We rode the rest of the way to the Bureau in comfortable silence.

  The next time Thomas spoke was to the guard at the security gate.

  "Agent Maddox," Agent Trevino said, taking our badges. He leaned down to identify me and smirked.

  "Hi, Mig," Thomas said. "How's the family?"

  "All fine. Nice of you to drive Agent Lindy to work this morning."

  Thomas took back his badge. "We live in the same building."

  "Mmhmm," Trevino said, sitting back before pressing the button to open the gate.

  Thomas drove through and chuckled.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Trevino," Thomas said, resting his elbow on the bottom of the window and touching his lips with his fingers.

  I frowned. Anytime anything came into contact with his lips, a mixture of depression and jealousy swirled inside me. It was an awful feeling, and I wondered when it would stop. "Am I a running joke?"

  Thomas looked over at me and switched his driving hand. Then, my hand was in his, and he squeezed.

  "No. Why would you think that?"

  "What is so amusing?"

  Thomas pulled into the parking garage and put the gear into park. He turned back the key, and the engine silenced. "Me. He's laughing at me. I don't bring people to work. I don't smile when I check in, and I damn sure don't ask him about his family. He knows it's...he knows. Things have been different since you came here."

  "Why is that?" I stared at him, my eyes begging him to say the words.

  Admittedly, I was too proud and stubborn to break my vow to the Bureau without insurance. Coffee, odd jobs around my condo, even his hand in mine weren't enough. I was okay with being second to his job. When we were both committed to the Bureau, it somehow canceled the other out. But I wouldn't come in third.

  His cell phone rang, and when he noticed the name on the display, his entire demeanor changed. His eyebrows pulled in, and he sighed.

  "Hey," Thomas said, his face tight. He let go of my hand and looked away. "I told you I would. I, uh..." He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I can't. My flight doesn't land until an hour prior to Trav's arrival at the hotel. Okay...tell me what?"

  Thomas looked down, and his shoulders sagged. "You are? That's great," he said, failing to cover the devastation in his voice. "Uh, no, I understand. No, Trent, I get it. It's okay. Yeah, I'm happy for you. I am. Okay. All right. See you then."

  Thom
as pressed End and then let the phone fall to his lap. He held the steering wheel with both hands, his grip twisting so hard that his knuckles turned white.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  He shook his head.

  "Okay. Well...I'll be in my office if you change your mind."

  Just as I reached for the lever, Thomas grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to him, his amazingly soft lips melting against mine. Everything around us blurred, and I was transported back to the night we'd met--the desperate hands, his tongue deep in my mouth, his blazing hot sweaty skin against mine.

  When he finally let me go, I grieved. Even though it had been my lips against his, when we'd parted, I was still left with that awful feeling.

  "Damn it, Liis. I'm sorry," he said, looking just as shocked as I was.

  I was breathing slow but deep, still leaned in a bit.

  "I know you don't want a relationship," he said, angry with himself. "But I'll be goddamned if I can't stay away from you."

  "I can relate," I said, smoothing my hair away from my face. "Trent?" I asked, nodding to his cell phone.

  He looked down and then back at me. "Yeah."

  "What did he say that upset you?"

  Thomas hesitated, clearly not wanting to answer. "He was talking to me about Travis's bachelor party."

  "And?"

  "He's the entertainment."

  "So?"

  Thomas shifted nervously. "He, uh...has a deal with Camille." He shook his head. "A while back, she agreed to marry him if he did something crazy and embarrassing. He's going to do it at Trav's party, and then he's..." His eyes fell. He looked heartbroken. "He's going to ask Camille to marry him."

  "Your ex."

  He nodded slowly.

  "The one you're still in love with. And then you kiss me to stop thinking about it?"

  "Yes," he admitted. "I'm sorry. It was a shit thing to do."

  My first reaction was to be angry. But how could I be angry when kissing him was all I'd thought about since we met? And how could I be jealous? The woman he loved would very soon be engaged, and he'd practically just given his blessing. All of that logic did me no good. I was envious of a woman I'd never met and who would never be with Thomas. I couldn't be mad at him, but I was furious with myself.

  I pulled at the lever. "Squad Five is meeting at three."

  "Liis," he called after me.

  I walked away as fast as my heels would allow, all the way to the elevator.

  The doors closed behind me, and I stood in silence as the numbers climbed. People got on and off--agents, assistants, city leaders--all speaking in hushed tones, if they spoke at all.

  When the doors opened on the seventh floor, I stepped out and tried to hurry past Marks's office. He was always early, and Val was usually in his office, chatting. I snuck by his open door, hearing Val's voice, and quickly slipped through the security doors. I walked around the corner of the first cubicle, passed another two, and then ducked into my office, closing the door.

  I sat in my throne and turned my back to the wall of windows, and I stared at my bookshelf and the view of the city below. I heard a knock but ignored it, and then someone put a file in the holder on my door, leaving me alone. I let the high back of the chair conceal me from the squad room, and I twisted the long black strands of my hair around my finger, thinking about the kiss, the night before, and every time I'd been alone with Thomas since I met him.

  He was still in love with Camille. I didn't understand, and worse, I wasn't sure of my feelings either. I knew that I cared for him. If I were being honest, that was a gross understatement. The way my body responded to his presence was addictive and impossible to ignore. I wanted Thomas in a way that I'd never felt for Jackson.

  Is it worth the mess it might make at work? Is it worth the mess he could make of me?

  I pulled my hair out of my mouth after realizing I had been chewing on it. I hadn't done that since I was a girl. Thomas was my neighbor and my boss. It was illogical and unreasonable to attempt to be anything more, and if I wanted to stay in control of the situation, I had to surrender to that fact.

  My door swung open.

  "Liis?"

  It was Thomas.

  I slowly turned around and sat up straight. The anguish in his eyes was unbearable. He was being pulled in two directions just like I was.

  "It's okay," I said. "You're not the one I'm mad at."

  He shut the door and walked over to one of the club chairs before sitting down. He leaned down, putting his elbows on the edge of my desk. "That was totally out of line. You didn't deserve that."

  "You had a moment. I get it."

  He stared at me, rattled by my answer. "You're not a moment, Liis."

  "I have a set goal that I am determined to achieve. Any feelings I might have for you won't get in the way of those goals. Sometimes, you make me forget, but I always come back to the original plan--a plan that doesn't include a significant other."

  He let my words simmer for a bit. "Is that what happened with you and Jackson? He didn't fit into your guidelines for the future?"

  "This isn't about Jackson."

  "You don't talk about him much." He sat back.

  Shit. I didn't want to get into this conversation with him.

  "That's because I don't need to."

  "Weren't you engaged?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

  Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Nothing, huh? Didn't shed a single tear?"

  "I don't really...do that. I drink."

  "Like that night at Cutter's?"

  "Exactly like that night at Cutter's. So, I guess we're even."

  Thomas's mouth fell open, not even attempting to hide his wounded ego. "Wow. I guess so."

  "Thomas, you of all people should understand. You were faced with the same decision when you were with Camille. You chose the Bureau, didn't you?"

  "No," he said, slighted. "I tried to hang on to both."

  I sat back and clasped my hands together. "And how did that work out for you?"

  "I don't like this side of you."

  "That's unfortunate. From now on, this is the only side you're going to get." I stared him straight in the eyes, unwavering.

  Thomas began to speak, but someone knocked on the door and pushed it open.

  "Agent Lindy?" a smooth but high-toned voice came from the hall.

  "Yes?" I said, recognizing Constance standing in the doorway.

  "You had a visitor downstairs. I brought him up."

  Before I had the chance to wonder who on earth would be visiting, Jackson Schultz walked around Constance and stood in my doorway.

  "Oh. My. God," I whispered.

  Jackson was in a French-blue button-down shirt and patterned tie. The only times I'd seen him look so well dressed was the night he proposed and at Agent Gregory's funeral. The hue of his shirt set off his azure eyes. They used to be my favorite thing about him, but in that moment, I could only notice that they were as round as his face. Jackson had always been fit, but his smoothly shaved head made him appear more portly than he was.

  The longer we had been together, the more his less appealing features and habits had grown noticeable--the way he'd suck food through his teeth after a meal; lean to the side when he passed gas, even in public; or not always wash his hands after he had been in the restroom for half an hour. Even the three deep wrinkles where his skull met his neck made me cringe.

  "Who the hell are you?" Thomas asked.

  "Jackson Schultz, Chicago SWAT. Who the hell are you?"

  I stood up. "Special Agent Maddox is San Diego's ASAC."

  "Maddox?" Jackson laughed once, unimpressed.

  "Yes, as in the asshole who runs this place." Thomas looked to Constance. "We're in a meeting."

  "Sorry, sir," Constance said, not looking sorry at all.

  She didn't fool me. She'd told Thomas what kind of coffee to buy, and once she'd learned Jackson was in the building, she'd swiftly escorted him to my o
ffice to remind her boss that he had competition. I wasn't sure whether to strangle her or laugh, but it was clear that she cared about Thomas, and it was nice to know she thought well enough of me to push him in my direction.

  "Agent Maddox, we were just wrapping up, weren't we?" I asked.

  Thomas looked at me and then back to Jackson. "No. Agent Schultz can wait the fuck outside. Constance?"

  One corner of her mouth turned up. "Yes, sir. Agent Schultz, if you'll just follow me."

  Jackson kept his eyes on me while he followed Constance until they were both out of sight.

  I narrowed my eyes at Thomas. "That was unnecessary."

  "Why didn't you tell me he was visiting?" Thomas barked.

  "Do you really think I knew?"

  His shoulders relaxed. "No."

  "The quicker you allow him in here, the quicker he'll leave."

  "I don't want him here."

  "Stop."

  "What?" Thomas snapped, pretending to stare at the various photographs and Post-its on my wall or the bookshelf or neither.

  "You're being childish," I said.

  He lowered his chin to glower at me. "Get rid of him." He kept his voice low.

  In the recent past, I might have been intimidated, but Thomas Maddox didn't scare me anymore. I wasn't sure that he ever had.

  "You made such a big deal of me being jealous last night. You know I left him and have zero interest, and look at you."

  He pointed at the door. "You think I'm jealous of Mr. Clean? You're fucking joking, right?"

  "We both know you're too fucked up in there"--I pointed to my own head--"to worry about my ex-fiance or about me in general."

  "That's not true."

  "You're still in love with her!" I said too loud.

  Every member of Squad Five present in the squad room leaned forward or back in their chairs to watch through the glass wall of my office. Thomas walked over and lowered the blinds for one section and then the other, and then he shut the door.

  He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything? I can't like you and still love her?"

  "Do you? Like me?"

  "No, I just asked you on a date because I enjoy being shot down."

  "You asked me to dinner right before you had a meltdown. You're not over her, Maddox."

  "There you go with the Maddox again."

  "You're not over her," I said, hating the sadness in my voice. "And I have goals."

  "You've mentioned that."

  "Then, we agree that it's pointless."

  "Fine."

  "Fine?" I asked, embarrassed about the tinge of panic in my voice.