Falling For Danger Read online

  Blair grinned. “Like the guy you had in your bedroom?”

  I felt my face flame. “I did not have a guy in my bedroom.”

  “Oh, come on. ‘Come back to bed’?” Her expression softened, the teasing lilt leaving her voice. “Are you seeing someone?”

  Oh, god. I stuffed my face full of croissant, stalling.

  I didn’t want to lie to her; I couldn’t tell her the truth. And the hardest part was that I saw the hope in her eyes, knew that more than anything, she just wanted me to be happy. After experiencing just a bit of what it was like to watch the person you loved suffering, I understood how difficult these past few years had been for her.

  I took a deep breath, opting for somewhere between the truth and the lie.

  “I’m not dating anyone or anything official, but there’s a guy, and we hooked up.”

  Blair’s eyes widened. “This is huge.”

  If she only knew.

  “How do you feel about it?” she asked.

  I took a sip of my orange juice. “Good.”

  Great. Confused.

  “It has to be tough. How are you doing with everything?”

  Why? Oh, right, because she thought this was the first guy I’d moved on with since Matt.

  I struggled to sober my expression. “Yeah. It is. It’s really tough.”

  Which wasn’t totally a lie.

  Blair reached out and squeezed my hand. “I think it’s a good thing that you’re moving on. I know it can’t be easy for you, but Matt would want you to be happy. And you know, maybe this guy isn’t the one, but you’re young, and more than anything, maybe you should just have fun with it. You’ve spent most of your dating years in a serious relationship, and then after that …” her voice trailed off. “I just think it would be good for you to let loose a bit.”

  Well, that definitely happened last night.

  “Is he a good guy?” Blair asked.

  My heart clenched, my throat tight as memories flooded me. Building sand castles on the beach. Matt cheering me on when I learned to ride my bike. Sitting in the stands watching him play soccer, waiting for that moment in every game when he would look up at the crowd and wave at me. Dancing together at my prom. Matt on his knee asking me to be his wife on my eighteenth birthday as we watched the fireworks at the National Mall. My whole life, he’d always been there. My biggest fan. My best friend. The one I called when I had a shitty day or got into a fight with my parents or my sister.

  “He’s the best,” I croaked between bites.

  Blair’s eyes welled up. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

  “I know.”

  That was part of the problem, why I’d always struggled to move on. Good guys were hard to come by. Great, perfect-for-you, rock solid guys were once-in-a-lifetime. Once you’d found a guy like that, it was impossible to entertain the idea of finding anyone else, of settling for anything less than a great love.

  “How are you feeling today?” Blair asked, changing the subject. “How’s your wound?”

  “Good, just a little sore. The meds are helping, though.”

  “Do you want to hang out today? Gray’s going to a meeting.”

  Blair’s boyfriend was an alcoholic and he’d had a substance abuse problem before he moved to D.C. and met Blair. He seemed to have it under control now, but I knew it was something he worked at, and he went to regular A.A. and N.A. meetings.

  “We could see if Jackie’s free, have a sister day,” Blair suggested. “She mentioned that she had some wedding stuff to show us.”

  Jackie and Will’s wedding was still several months away, but she’d asked us to be bridesmaids. I’d left most of the planning to Jackie and Blair since they both seemed to enjoy it; I weighed in when they asked my opinion, but Blair was way better at that stuff than I was.

  “That sounds good. Could we postpone it for a few hours, though? I have some things I need to take care of first.”

  Like figuring out what had happened to Matt.

  Blair nodded. “Sure. Do you want us to come back around one?”

  “Yeah. That would be perfect.”

  “Okay.” She gave me a knowing grin. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can take care of whatever you need to. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Thanks for the breakfast and for stopping by.”

  “My pleasure.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m really happy for you.”

  I waited until the front door shut behind her, and then I was up, scouring my apartment for any sign of where Matt had gone.

  Last night had been amazing. I wanted to think that he wouldn’t have just left, that it had meant something to him, too, but I was confused. I couldn’t ignore what he’d said, couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t been clear with me and given the impression that he didn’t have it in him for anything other than casual. All I could do was hope that I had enough in me for the both of us, to hold on when everything around us tried to rip us apart, to change his mind about the danger of us being together.

  I walked back into the bedroom, the memory of last night hitting me full force. And then my gaze settled on the white folded piece of paper on my dresser that I’d missed before, my name written on the outside.

  I unfolded the note, the familiar sight of Matt’s writing causing another pang in my chest. The words skewered me.

  I’m sorry. I have to do this. I’ll be back. I have a friend watching you. You’ll be safe while I’m gone.

  I crumpled the paper in my hand, anger and fear rocking me. He’d gone to Afghanistan. Just like that. After last night, after everything, he’d just left without even a good-bye.

  I sank down onto the edge of the bed, trying to get my thoughts under control, trying to calm my racing heart.

  What if he was hurt? What if he was killed? He was searching for answers in a place that had nearly been his grave. He said he had contacts there, but would anyone have his back?

  I tried to tell myself that he was good at what he did, that he could be lethal if he needed to be, but the problem was that I’d seen what the other side could do, knew what men like my father and his were capable of, knew the lengths they’d go to in order to secure their kingdoms.

  No matter how much of his humanity Matt thought he’d lost, he lacked the ruthlessness that someone like my father possessed. There was too much goodness in him to play at their level, and I’d seen enough bullshit in this town to have a hard time believing that the hero always won.

  We needed to do something, needed to make them hurt the way they’d hurt us.

  You didn’t fight a battle by killing foot soldiers. You had to strike at the center of power, and more than anyone, I had the means to do it. I was done fucking around, done waiting for someone else to make the next move, done waiting like a fucking pawn in a game I didn’t know the rules for.

  If Matt wanted to go off on his own, fine. He was a big boy, and as much as it pissed me off and scared me, there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. But I wasn’t the little woman, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for him to bag big game and come home victorious. It was time to get on the board.

  I pulled out my phone, my fingers dialing the familiar number, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth.

  Sometimes the ends justified the means.

  She answered on the third ring.

  I swallowed. “Hi, Mom.”

  Matt

  I stared out the window, regret coursing through me. Everything about this moment felt like déjà vu. Once again, I was headed to Afghanistan, leaving Kate behind in D.C. Once again, I was filled with the sense that I was doing something I had to do, and at the same time feeling like I’d left all of the essential parts of me behind, clutched in her small hands.

  I didn’t want to love her.

  It would be so much easier if I didn’t love her. If the sight of her, the sound of her voice, the feel of her touch, didn’t shatter my meager control. I’d learned the har
d way that love could be a double-edged sword. Having it made you invincible; it also gave your enemies the ultimate chink in your armor. I lived in terror that someone would realize that I was still alive and that they would strike at me through the most obvious means—Kate.

  I’d asked an old associate to watch over her, a guy who didn’t know me as Matt Ryan, simply as another mercenary, selling my skills to whoever would pay. I trusted him as much as I trusted anyone, and even though he didn’t know the full story, I knew the payment I’d promised him would secure his allegiance.

  I hated leaving her.

  I’d woken early and just lain in bed, watching her sleep. I’d thought about waking her and telling her that I was leaving, thought about sinking into her embrace and not leaving at all. But she was wrong—whether she thought it or not, I felt responsible for what had happened to her. She’d bled because of me, and I wasn’t the kind of man who could watch the woman he loved in pain and not do something about it.

  I had to fix this. Had to find the missing pieces to connect our fathers to the death and destruction they’d wrought and put it behind us.

  I tried to imagine a future with her, tried to envision a space for me in her life. Even if we managed to bring our fathers to justice, even if they were behind this, I wasn’t sure where that left me. This was bigger than two men; would I ever be able to stop running? Would she? I needed a fresh start, a new identity, needed to find a way to make a life that wasn’t roaming from country to country, traveling on forged papers, staying in shitty motels, taking jobs that left me feeling like no matter how many times I showered, I could never get the blood off of my skin.

  When we were younger, we’d both had bright futures. I’d thought we could accomplish anything together, imagined raising a family; our life together had felt like the perfect fit. But now? I had nothing to offer her. She’d built a life for herself, had a prestigious career that I didn’t doubt she was great at. She had sisters she loved. I didn’t want her to give those things up to go on the run with me. Didn’t want her to know the feeling of constantly looking over your shoulder, of moving around every few weeks for fear that if you stayed somewhere long enough, your identity would be exposed and your life snuffed out.

  All I wanted was to keep her safe, and I had no fucking clue how to do it, or if safe even existed anymore for people like us.

  Chapter Eight

  Kate Reynolds was seen at the Kennedy Center fund-raiser with her parents, Senator and Mrs. Edward Reynolds. Considering it’s been years since we’ve seen her in the company of her parents, we have to ask: Has the family rift finally been healed?

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Kate

  God, I’d forgotten how much I hated these things.

  Keep your friends close and enemies closer.

  It had been three weeks since I’d been stabbed, since I’d last seen or heard from Matt, and I stood next to my parents, a champagne flute in hand, wearing a navy Calvin Klein gown that had wiped out my savings and probably meant I’d be skipping meals all month to avoid bouncing my rent check.

  It was worth it to sneak back into their good graces.

  I didn’t know if my father suspected anything; so far, he’d appeared genuinely happy to see me, the smile on his face broad as he stood bookended by my mother and me.

  Considering how much of his platform included “family values,” the news that he’d fathered an illegitimate child had been a huge blow to his standing when Jackie’s paternity was revealed. Between that and all of the other things that made him impossible to deal with, Blair had withdrawn her support from his last Senate race, forcing him to campaign with only my mother representing the Reynolds family.

  Losing Blair had been an irreplaceable blow considering she had always been the poster child for the Reynolds family—although the tarnish of her broken engagement and walking out of her wedding when she’d learned her fiancé was gay had taken some of the shine off of her utility to him.

  I definitely wasn’t as valuable to his image, but I figured one daughter was better than none. Besides, I’d upped my game and put on the stupid dress and done my hair in a proper bun in an attempt to pave my way to reintegration.

  I’d started with the phone call to my mother, figuring it was a little too obvious to reach out to my father directly. I’d played up my stabbing—sometimes you had to make the most of the cards you’d been dealt—and told her that the experience had made me think of my family and the rift between us. Apparently I’d sold it, because I’d wound up with an invitation to the Kennedy Center fund-raiser.

  We didn’t have a big reunion. There had been no mention of the nearly four years when I’d basically had little to no interaction with either one of my parents.

  We’d seen each other over the years—at Blair’s aborted wedding and assorted bridal events, at my graduation from Georgetown even though I hadn’t invited them—but it had all been more for appearances than anything else. And even now, we didn’t talk about any of it. The Reynolds family didn’t discuss their feelings or air their dirty laundry—unless someone else aired it for them.

  In a way, the whole thing felt fucking surreal. Like I was a kid again, being paraded around to impress everyone with how golden we all were. I didn’t have my sister’s elegance or poise, but I had graduated at the top of my Georgetown class and landed a job at the CIA, which pleased my father, even as I knew my mother cringed at me doing something so unfeminine.

  Whatever. I was here for one reason and one reason only, and if that meant burying my pride and playing the game by their rules, then fine.

  I needed to get into his office.

  I’d thought about it a lot, and if he did keep any incriminating information, I figured he’d keep it at home. The security at my parents’ was insane, and since Blair and I had moved out, it was private. I just needed to figure out an excuse to get into the house and search.

  I figured getting close to them was step one. I only hoped I could get to the endgame soon, because I was kind of a shitty actress, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

  “You remember Senator Niassen, don’t you, Kate? He has a son a few years older than you. Blair’s age,” my mother murmured, a flawless smile on her lips.

  Oh god, she was matchmaking.

  “Mmm hmm.” I tried to keep my tone noncommittal. I did know Senator Niassen’s son, and I’d once watched him do lines of coke off of a girl’s ass at a high school party. Not exactly the stuff dreams were made of.

  That said, even though her matchmaking was as annoying as fuck, I felt kind of sorry for my mother. In the last year, Blair had really distanced herself from our parents, including my mother’s desire to dress her up like a doll and micromanage every aspect of her life. I had no idea what the woman did for entertainment now, but if she thought I was going to take Blair’s place, she was sadly mistaken.

  “I think I’m going to go to the ladies’ room,” I murmured, needing a moment to remove the fake smile from my face. I set the champagne flute on a nearby table, turned, and froze.

  One of the benefits to not going out in society anymore was that I no longer ran in the same circles as Matt’s family. After everything, the thought of seeing Matt’s parents was really hard. I’d tried to prepare myself for the possibility that they might be here tonight, but nothing quite compared to the real thing.

  And then James Ryan saw me, and I couldn’t escape it anymore.

  He walked toward me, a smile on his face, Matt’s mom nowhere to be seen.

  My heart hammered.

  I could do this. I could be fake. I could get through this, if only because it put me one step closer to saving his son. I figured the role of the grieving fiancée left some room for me to be awkward in his presence, and I totally took advantage of it.

  “Mr. Ryan.”

  “Kate.”

  He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek, and it took all of my willpower to keep from recoiling at
his touch.

  What have you done? Did you have your own son killed? Or did you just try to cover it up? How in bed with my father are you?

  “How have you been?”

  I gave a little shrug, figuring the truth worked better than any lie. “You know how it is. Okay, I guess.”

  The worst part was how much Matt looked like his father. They had the same tall, powerful build. The same dark eyes, dark hair. It hadn’t been as noticeable when he’d been younger, but the more Matt had grown into himself, the more he also looked like his dad.

  Matt’s father had been an officer in the Navy—a Seal—using his military connections and his father’s connections as a U.S. senator to found Intech, a private security company that had grown into a multibillion dollar entity with its hands in conflicts all over the globe.

  Matt served because he believed in his country; his father had served as a stepping stone to more power, more influence, more wealth.

  Not a day went by that I didn’t worry about Matt, wonder about him, that I didn’t fear that something had happened to him, that he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere in Afghanistan while I shook hands and exchanged fake fucking smiles and tried to get closer to the snake who wanted him dead.

  “It’s hard with him gone,” James commented with an expression so practiced that I couldn’t tell where the truth ended and the lie began.

  I nodded like his words didn’t piss me off, like I had somehow magically forgotten that Matt’s parents had basically freaked out and disowned him when he’d enlisted in the military. It had been one thing for his father to join after graduating from Princeton, for his military service to be tied to building his own empire. But Matt had enlisted, his only agenda the desire to help people and serve his country. He hadn’t gotten the shiny Ivy League diploma or lived up to the expectations his parents had for him.

  In our world, love came with so many fucking strings.

  James smiled again. “It’s nice to see you well, Kate.”

  I nodded robotically, trying to find the right words and coming up short; I just couldn’t be fake about this.