Escalation Page 3

  I take slow, even breaths as I try to do as she asked. Until I calm down, they won’t leave me alone. And right now, all I want is for them to go away so I can get some answers.

  My wish is granted after what finally feels like forever, and I’m left alone with the law enforcement officer.

  “Agent Howard?” I croak, my voice rough and scratchy.

  He glances down at me and tilts his head, awaiting my question.

  “The driver… Was he found? Is he here, in the hospital as well?”

  He lets out a deep sigh. “Look, Ms. Latham—”

  I hold my hand up. “Please, call me Gabriella,” I tell him, hating the formality of Ms. Latham.

  The agent nods. “Gabriella, while I’m technically in charge of this case, there’s someone else who’s requested to give you all the answers to your questions.”

  My brow furrows in confusion. “This case?”

  “According to the press, it was an accident, but let’s be clear, Gabriella. The reality is that you were kidnapped, and there was possibly an attempt on your life. We don’t take those things lightly, ma’am,” he says.

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I was there. I know what happened. I don’t know that he actually meant to hurt me,” I protest.

  He raises an eyebrow.

  It’s the truth. The memory of Adrian’s frantic voice echoes in my mind. Even though I was terrified, I’m not sure he intended to harm me.

  “Interesting,” he murmurs. He takes a small notebook out of his pocket and scribbles something on it.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, my blood pressure rising as exhaustion hits me at full force. “Look, I’m exhausted, and I have no idea what’s happening. If you’re not going to answer my questions, then please, find me someone who will.”

  Before he can answer, a loud, brief knock echoes throughout he room.

  “Ah, there’s the man with your answers now,” he says cryptically, causing the hair on my arm to raise in nervous anticipation. I’m about to ask what he means when he moves towards the door, quickly opening it. Then he steps into the hallway and out of view.

  I hear two voices, both low and male, so I sit up taller, leaning forward and straining my ears to listen. It’s no use though—I’m unable to make out anything they’re saying. Falling back against the pillow, I close my eyes, wondering how long I’m going to be stuck here and when the hell I’m going to get answers. More importantly, how long will it be until I can get to a phone and contact Rafe? He must be sick with worry.

  After a few moments, Agent Howard walks back in. “Ms. Latham,” he says, going back to his previous formality.

  He hands me a card that reads Special Agent in Charge Howard. It has his phone number, too, and I glance back up at him.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on your status. Once you’re released from the hospital, we’ll need to have a formal interview, but I have an agent outside who’s practically ready to rip my throat out if I don’t let him in here.”

  I frown at the obvious annoyance on his face. “I don’t understand.”

  His smile tightens. “I know, but you will. Call me if you need anything in the meantime.” He clears his throat then calls for the other party to enter. “Ms. Latham, this is Agent Phillips. I’d make a more formal introduction, but I believe you’re already acquainted. He will answer any questions you have.”

  The door opens, and my heart jumps into my throat at the man standing before me.

  Oh, yes. Agent Howard was correct. I’m quite acquainted with Agent Phillips.

  Physically.

  Emotionally.

  Intimately.

  And now, forever.

  Because Agent Phillips is none other than Rafe Matthews.

  IF LOOKS COULD FUCKING kill, I’d be obliterated and burning in Hell, paying for my multitude of sins right now. I deserve it, every bit of her disgust and animosity, but it’s the mistrust in her eyes that kills me. Even still, she’s alive, she’s awake, and I’m overjoyed. I’ll deal with the fallout later.

  I’m pissed as hell that Howard was by her side when she awoke. That should’ve been me. Instead, I was dealing with bureaucratic bullshit when all I wanted was to be with her.

  Agent Michael Howard was a last-minute replacement I hadn’t known about until I made it to the hospital. Supposedly, he hadn’t been tasked until after Brie had been taken, but I wasn’t buying it. How quickly he’d made it to Philadelphia was alarming, and I wonder just how long this was in the works.

  He apparently was apprised of my “relationship” with the victim and has made it obvious that he doesn’t approve. Hell, no one in the agency does, but I can’t bring myself to care. It changes nothing, and since I know they won’t take any action against me while I’m on assignment, I’ll do as I please.

  To say that I was angry about Agent Howard is an understatement. I already have a handler, and I don’t need another one. Especially one who has no idea about the case. But clearly he’s my punishment for getting too close. And since I don’t plan on stepping aside or walking away, we’ll both have to get used to it.

  The agency may think Brie’s a dead end, that she has no use, but I know differently. There’s something in that file that will lead me to the truth. She knows something, even if it’s subconscious, and I plan on figuring it out. I’m keeping her as close as freaking possible. I just hope she’ll forgive me in the end. After all, this has become so much more than an unsolved case for me. Her safety is the most important thing to me, and if unlocking some secret she has hidden is the key to finding it, I’ll do whatever I have to.

  When I finally made contact with my handler, he told me the agency’s plan for Brie. They wanted to take her away from me, whisk her off into witness protection until this whole thing blows over and the threat is annihilated, but I refused. Adrian’s body has yet to be recovered, and there’s no proof that he drowned in that river. Even though most people are writing him off, I’m not so sure. I’m also not convinced he was the actual threat—not any longer. There’s so much more to this story, and I’m determined to uncover it, all the while keeping Brie safe from harm. I threatened to walk away from the whole operation—a move that I’m sure I’ll be punished for later—and they relented. Brie stays with me. No ifs, ands, or buts.

  And when I glance at her, I can see that she’s going to need more convincing than my handler did.

  Even though she’s looking at me as if I’m a complete stranger, I’m not giving up on her or us. As long as I have my way, Gabriella Latham won’t leave my sight. Not any time soon. Hell, preferably not ever.

  I know how that sounds—almost exactly like how Morningstar was with her. But in this case, I want to protect her, not keep her cooped up for my own pleasure by isolating her and making her solely dependent on me. All I have to do is make her understand that I did what I did for a reason and I was as honest with her as I could have been without directly affecting my job. Not that it’s going to be easy, but I’ll do whatever it takes, for however long it takes.

  Eight weeks of patience and caution around Brie—of fighting my natural instincts to protect her by any means necessary—has been brutal. The urge to scoop her up, throw her over my shoulder, and haul her ass out of his house was nearly unbearable the longer she remained there. And still, I kept my cool, knowing I couldn’t treat her that way. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be that guy. I wouldn’t be that guy. She needed to make her own decisions, to decide I was who she wanted. And in the end, she did—with no prompting from me. For the first, I wanted to be better, to be what a woman needed.

  Still, it wasn’t easy, and if the way she’s looking at me now is any indication, this next interaction isn’t going to be, either. But, fuck, I’m prepared. This time, I’m putting up one hell of a fight, and in the end, she will be with me—whether she likes it or not.

  Rafe’s blue eyes are a swirling mixture of sheer relief and unadulterated pain. Their penetrating gaz
e nearly causes me to gasp. My natural instinct has me reaching out for him, but I stop myself as soon as those eyes light up. When I pull my hand back, the light dissipates and I break our gaze, taking a moment to study Rafe.

  Or Agent Phillips, as Agent Howard called him.

  He’s wearing the same suit he had on the first weekend we spent at his apartment. My eyes widen as it dawns on me that he must’ve been lying about meeting a potential client. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. As I study him, the realization that I know nothing about this man sinks in. What else did he lie to me about?

  Oh, right. His freaking name.

  “Who the hell are you?” I blurt out, coughing at the force at which I asked the question.

  His cheeks redden slightly before he tears his eyes away from me, having the decency to look ashamed as he places his hands in his pockets. His shoulders sag and he opens his mouth as if to speak then closes it, apparently having no words for me.

  I hold my hands up, shaking my head. His gaze comes back to mine, and I have to force myself not to melt into the beautiful blue irises that gained my trust and then broke it. “You know what? I don’t actually care. I have nothing to say to you. Leave. Now.”

  Even as I say the words, I instantly want to take them back. I’m torn between wanting him to hold me and wanting to push him away. More than anything, I want answers. But the sight of him is overwhelming and I’m too mentally drained to deal with this—with him—at the moment. All I want is to curl up and go back to sleep. I hate that my first thought is that he’s the one I want curling up with me.

  “Brie,” he whispers, his blue eyes stormy and swirling with regret.

  I swallow hard, not wanting to look at them, fully aware that my desire for him still runs deep. Yet again, I’m the weak woman blindly believing in a man, and yet again, I’ve crashed and burned. Self-loathing reigns supreme over me, and I wonder if I will ever learn.

  Gabriella.

  Brie.

  Apparently, it’s all the same. But unlike Adrian, Rafe took a nickname that meant something to me and made it dirty. Just like that, fury rises up, and I can no longer stand to look at the face of the man who’s lied to me since the moment we met. My fists tighten into balls, and I study the sheet covering my legs, trying to calm down. When I hear him call me that damned name again, I vehemently shake my head.

  “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I snap, surprising myself by the venom in my voice.

  His sharp intake of breath forces me to look back up at him, and I nearly gasp myself. His face turns ashen, my heart races as he moves farther into the room, closer to me, yet still too far away for my liking. He sits on the edge of the hospital bed and gazes down at me.

  He whispers my name almost reverently, as if he can’t believe I’m here. As if I didn’t just tell him to leave. His voice nearly cracks on the simple word, and the emotion in it sends my heart into a tailspin.

  He brushes his long fingers across my cheek, catching a traitorous tear. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting him to see me cry. His touch is warm and comforting, a distinct contrast to my mother’s from my dream. I can almost hear her telling me to trust him, to give him a chance.

  As he cups my cheek, I turn into it, safety washing over me. Then I force my eyes open and gaze upon his suit, and it hits me again. I have no idea who he is. Even though I know how he made me feel—how he still makes me feel—the one person in the world who held my trust is now a complete stranger. In all reality, he always has been. I was too stupid and naïve to notice.

  “Don’t touch me,” I tell him through gritted teeth, jerking my chin away from his touch.

  Anger flashes in his eyes as his jaw clenches, but he quickly masks the expression, then drops his hand from my face.

  A throat clears behind him, and my cheeks flush when I see Agent Howard watching us with interest. He pushes off the wall and gives Rafe a knowing look before turning to me.

  “You two have a lot to discuss,” he says, “so I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to check in with the local PD to see if there’s any word on Morningstar.”

  The name sends a rush of fear through me. It’s instinctual, even if I’m not sure Adrian was actually trying to hurt me.

  How funny. Twenty-four hours ago, Adrian was the villain and Rafe was my white knight. Now, I’m sure of nothing.

  “Are you okay with him, Ms. Latham?” Agent Howard’s voice surprises me.

  When I glance up, he’s watching me intently.

  “Would you prefer to do this another time? One word and I can have him out of here.”

  My eyes widen in panic, and though I want Rafe gone while my mind works through this new development, I don’t want to be alone.

  “I-I’ll be fine,” I answer, hoping beyond hope that it’s the truth. “Please, go make your calls.”

  “Let me know if you need anything, Ms. Latham.” He glances towards Rafe then back at me. “Anything at all.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Rafe—God, is that even his name?—nods to Howard, who gives me a tight smile before exiting. I peer down at the card in my hand then set it to the side in case I do need to ask him any questions later.

  The door clicks shut, the sound echoing through the room, signifying that we’re finally alone. What should have been a joyous reunion is now one rife with distrust and deception. He shifts on the bed and looks down at me, concern etched on his features.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  Really? After everything, that’s how he wants to start this?

  “Like I nearly drowned,” I reply dryly.

  He smiles softly, almost regretfully. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Brie. When I couldn’t find you at the house… And then, when I pulled up to the scene, God, I damn near lost my mind.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s too late for that.”

  He grimaces, and I want to take it back. I want him to hold me, promise he’ll never leave me again. I don’t care who he is or what he’s doing as long as he protects me for the rest of our lives. Yet I still need answers to all the questions I don’t even know I have. I don’t know where to start.

  His close proximity is messing with my emotions, wreaking havoc on my system.

  “Can you…” I gesture towards the chair Agent Howard recently occupied.

  I don’t miss his crestfallen look as he turns and spots the chair. Still, he sighs heavily as he gets the picture and complies. As soon as he lifts up from the bed, I want to protest, immediately missing his warmth, but I don’t say a word. He pulls the chair to the side of my bed and leans his elbows on the mattress as he takes my hand. The contrast of his warmth to my cold, icy palm is unsettling, and even though I want to fight it, to pull away, I give myself this one concession.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry,” he says, pain contorting his features. “I thought you were gone, back at my place, waiting for me. When I got home and you weren’t there, it scared the shit out of me.”

  “I forgot the files,” I whisper, my eyes widening at the memory. “Oh, God, the files. I need them. I was going to study them to see if I could find any hidden clues, to figure out what the hell Adrian was doing. When I got back, he was there, and he had the files on the dining table, where he sat waiting for me.” I shudder at the memory.

  He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that, Brie. Since he kidnapped you from the house, it’s an active crime scene. I’ll put in a call and make sure someone picks them up.”

  I study his face. His eyes are dark, and the circles under them even darker. His usually tanned face is pale. Even his vibrant eyes are dull. In truth, he looks exhausted, drained, and like he’s in pain. I find my voice and ask the question I’ve been dreading getting the answer to but can no longer put off. I’ve already asked once. It’s time I find out the truth.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  It was only a matter of time befo
re that question came, but I’m not prepared for it. Nor do I have the right answer for her. I’ve already nearly lost her once, and I can’t bear the thought of the truth taking her from me—especially when she needs me now more than ever.

  This is why I’ve always been warned not to get my heart involved when I’m on the job. I’m ready—hell, I already was—to spill everything if it means she’ll forgive me. I can still only give her half-truths, and it’s killing me.

  “Rafe?” she says, breaking my thoughts. Her voice is small and questioning, and I hate the way my name now sounds on her lips. As if she’s unsure.

  “Jesus Christ, Brie. Can’t you give a guy a minute?” I growl, immediately wincing at my gruff tone. The last thing she needs is me being an ass to her, but fuck. Rubbing my chin with my free hand, I try to calm my inner turmoil. “It’s been nearly twelve hours. Twelve fucking brutal hours since the moment I discovered that he had you. Twelve hours since I came upon the scene of his fucking car sinking to the bottom of the damn river. Twelve hours since they pulled you from the water, unconscious, not breathing, and I couldn’t even get close to you. I was fucking helpless. Hopeless. I was so fucking on edge, unsure if I was ever going to look into your eyes again. Or see that beautiful, gorgeous smile. I stood there, willing your chest to move, and it didn’t. It wouldn’t. God, Brie. You have no idea how terrified I was. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You did.”

  Those two words nearly undo me. They probably would have if I couldn’t see the confliction on her face. She didn’t mean them. Oh, maybe she did, but not really. She’s hurt and lashing out, which is exactly what I deserve, but as soon as she spits those two words out, I saw the horror. She couldn’t believe she had actually said them out loud.

  “Don’t say that. Please, whatever you’re thinking, just stop. There’s so much you need to know. So much I need to tell you.”