Well, too bad. He stood a little straighter and rolled his shoulders, because he wasn’t backing down. Right now, she belonged right here in California with their friends. With her sister. And mostly, with Antonio Sanchez, the man she loved.
Winston hadn’t had a woman in his life since Linda’s death. He damn sure wasn’t going to steal even a single moment of that bliss from Emma or Tony. Slowly, he reached over and placed a hand on her upper arm. “I’m going alone. And I’ll be just fine.”
“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”
“Funny. That’s what Linda used to say.” He managed a smile and felt some of the sadness that had been pooling in his gut ease when she returned it.
“Promise you’ll call. Anytime. Day or night. You need to talk—hell, you need to just sit in silence with someone else breathing—I don’t care. You call.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said, cocking his head toward the open door where Tony now stood framed in the glow from inside. “Some things a man doesn’t like to interrupt.”
She shot him a crooked smile. “Only you, Starr. We went through hell together in Texas, and I meant what I said. You need anything, you call. Any time, day or night.”
He nodded gravely, surprised by how touched he was by the ferocity in her voice. “I may take you up on that.” He cocked his head toward Tony. “He know about Texas? That we knew each other before?”
“Not much. Mostly that it’s where we met. That our cases overlapped.”
“You tell him the rest if you want. Couples shouldn’t have secrets. And you two make a good couple.”
She held his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said again. “You were undercover. You couldn’t tell her.”
“Oh, I could have. My mouth works just fine. I didn’t. And she’s dead.”
“Winston, don’t. You’ve been beating yourself up for years. You’re probably black-and-blue from kicking your own ass.”
He almost smiled. She wasn’t wrong.
“Even if you had told her, nothing would be different. Do you think she would have left you?” Emma shook her head. “That woman adored you. She would have stayed by your side, and in the end she’d be just as dead.”
She reached out and took his hand, then squeezed it hard. “It was their fault, not yours.”
God, how he wanted to believe that. But all he said was, “I’m gonna get out of here now. Give Eliza a hug for me.”
She sighed and dropped his hand. “You should stay.”
“Probably. It would be the social thing to do. But I’m not feeling too social at the moment. And I told Seagrave I’d come by before ten.”
“Winston, I—”
“Everything okay?” Tony called.
Emma turned toward him, and Winston took the opportunity to open Old Blue’s door. “No,” he replied before he slid behind the wheel. “I really don’t think it is.”
“Austin?” Winston frowned at the man seated at the battered gray table across from him. “You’re sending me to Austin, not Hades?”
“Disappointed?”
Winston shook his head, trying to sort through the confused emotions running through him. “No, I—” He drew in a breath, forcing himself to lean back and look at the man who’d once been his commanding officer. “I assumed this was about Linda’s death.”
“Did you?” Anderson Seagrave settled back in his wheelchair, his fingers steepled under his chin. In his mid-forties, Seagrave had dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples, and an undeniable air of authority. “And what were you expecting I’d say? We brought down the Consortium years ago. Hell, you practically wrapped up that operation single-handedly.”
Winston swallowed. That wasn’t a time that he was proud of. He’d been so consumed by rage at Linda’s murderers that he cut corners he shouldn’t have, going so far as to kill Horace McNally, the man he learned had ordered her death.
That had been his breaking point. He’d been in no danger, could have easily apprehended the man. But he’d killed him instead. A single bullet to the brain. And the only regret he’d felt was that he hadn’t made the bastard suffer.
Those had been harsh, messy days, and the Consortium had been manipulating the city with murder and greed and corruption. Emma and Seagrave both told Winston that they understood. That what he’d done was justified. And that McNally would have suffered much worse in prison. McNally dabbled in child prostitution, after all. And that meant that in prison, he would have ended up somebody’s bitch. Or much more painfully dead.
Winston had agreed with everything they said. He’d done right taking out that worm. But in doing so, he’d broken his own code. Broken something in him.
He’d retired then, leaving both the SOC and his position as sheriff, a job he’d taken as a cover in the first place, but had grown to love. He’d moved to Newport Beach for no reason other than it was Linda’s favorite town. He hadn’t needed to work—he’d learned after her death that Linda had a surprisingly large insurance policy on her life—and so he’d volunteered at an animal shelter, filling his days with the warm love of dogs and cats who didn’t care about his failures.
His nights, though, he kept free, wanting only to be alone with his memories.
He knew he should forgive himself. After all, he hadn’t killed her. The Consortium deserved the blame and his hatred. That was the cold, hard truth.
And yet he’d played a role, too. He should never have married—not when being attached to him put a target on her back. He’d been selfish, believing that their love was special. Magical. Thinking his love would keep her safe. Being selfish and stupid enough to believe that he’d die if he couldn’t have her.
Well, now here he was. He didn’t have her. And he was mostly dead inside. Or he had been until Seagrave had come to the shelter one day. He’d told Winston that if he truly believed he was culpable, then he should be doing something to right those wrongs. He should be back in the game, fighting the bad guys.
It had taken some soul-searching, but Winston had agreed. He’d expected to sign on with the SOC again. Instead, Seagrave introduced him to former tennis pro turned tech billionaire Damien Stark.
Stark and Ryan Hunter, Stark’s friend who headed the Stark Security Agency, were the only ones in the organization who knew about Winston’s connection to government intelligence operations. Even then, they didn’t know he’d once been a full-on operative with the SOC. Seagrave had told them only that he’d been “attached” to the Hades investigation in his role as sheriff. Not a lie, but hardly the full truth, especially considering he’d applied for the sheriff position while officially on the books at the SOC.
Which meant that until Emma had join Stark Security, all anyone else at the SSA believed was that he’d been a small town sheriff who’d played once or twice in the big leagues before signing on with the elite organization.
That, and the painful truth that Winston had left Texas after his wife had been killed by a car bomb.
Working for Stark Security hadn’t erased his pain, but it had been a balm. Now, though…