He pressed his fingers to his temples as the memory of his monster headache returned. Not only that, but as a sick sense of dread rose in him. He’d gotten blind drunk because of a glimpse of a stranger. How the hell did he expect to survive this mission if he was chasing the real woman?
“Earth to Winston,” she said as he grabbed his duffel off his desk and slung it over his shoulder.
“What? Oh, sorry. Yes. A family thing.”
“I thought so.” She rummaged in her purse. “Oh, hell. Hang on. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He watched as she headed toward Sarah’s office, his mind still with his parents. They lived in Llano, a pretty little town in the Hill Country. They were retired now and had bought a small movie theater with their savings. His brother and sister-in-law helped them run it, and Winston was impressed that, so far at least, they hadn’t lost their shirts. Then again, his father had bought stock in Google and Microsoft and Netflix before any of the companies had exploded. So he’d been able to retire as a criminal defense attorney in favor of a job that let him air classic movies like Twelve Angry Men and Witness for the Prosecution.
He talked to his parents regularly, but he hadn’t seen them in ages. He’d vowed to never return to Texas after Linda had died, but he’d always known that vow couldn’t apply to his family. Eventually he’d have buried enough of the pain to justify a visit when he wouldn’t be a numb husk of a man. And Llano was a long way from Hades.
Now, he almost wished he had more time before he had to be in Austin. It would be good to sit and talk with his dad and have his mom fuss over him and tell him he didn’t eat enough.
That’s how it was before. Now, though … well, now he hadn’t been home for over three years. He’d gone to see them after Linda’s death. After he’d killed McNally and had needed to heal. It had helped. And yet at the same time it hadn’t. Because staring at his parents—at their tight relationship and the way they could read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs—God, it had reminded him so much of Linda he’d almost been unable to breathe.
He’d spent the entire trip feeling like a vacuum, sucking in their sympathy and giving nothing back.
Now, damn him, he wanted his mother’s comfort and his father’s gentle wisdom. But he knew damn well that he wouldn’t go. They’d loved her, too. They’d mourned for the woman they’d believed she was, and he wasn’t going to taint their memories with the truth.
But it’s not the truth. There’s some other explanation. There must be.
The words whispered through his mind, but he knew better. There might be a twist in the last chapter of every crime novel he read, but life didn’t work that way. The reality you saw was the reality that existed, and you either learned to adapt or you died.
Once upon a time, he had wanted to die. Going on without her had been too heavy a load to bear. And then last night—the revelation she’d faked her death had knocked the wind out of him all over again.
But it hadn’t broken him. Not this time.
If anyone was about to be broken, it was Linda, not him. And while he hated the circumstances, he couldn’t deny the warm call of the rage inside him that wanted nothing more than to bring her down.
“You were in there a while,” he said, when Leah returned.
“Sorry. I left my keys on Sarah’s desk, but then I got talking to Renly. He has some seriously great stories.”
Winston glanced toward the glass walls of Sarah’s office where Renly Cooper sat with a hip on her desk as she flipped through paperwork, probably to make sure all the various contracts and confidentiality agreements were signed.
“Navy SEAL,” Winston said. “I suppose he would have good stories.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess he has some good SEAL stories, too,” Leah said as they headed toward the elevator that would take them to the basement parking area. “I hadn’t really thought about that. Then again, our Stark Security stories are probably just as good.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
She pressed the button to call the elevator then turned to gape at him. “Don’t you know who he is?”
“I would say Renly Cooper, but I have a feeling that’s not the answer you’re looking for.”
“You really are a Luddite. Do you even have a Facebook account? Or Twitter?”
“I don’t,” he said. “And yet somehow I manage to soldier on.”
He could almost see the effort she made not to roll her eyes.
“He just broke up with Marissa McQuire,” she said instead. “And before that, he was dating Francesca Muratti. He’s the reason their friendship went all to hell.”
“I didn’t realize it had. Then again, I didn’t know they were friends.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know who I’m talking about, do you?”
He rattled off both women’s most recent films. “I like cinema,” he said. “Pretty sure that doesn’t mean I have to like Hollywood gossip, too.”
This time, she really did roll her eyes. “Sometimes the gossip is more entertaining than the movie.”
“Well, you may be right there. So who is he that he knows these women? He comes from a Hollywood family?”
“He consults on movies. Isn’t that cool? He was doing it full-time, but then he met Damien at a party or something, and I guess he’s looking for something with a bit more meaning. Honestly, I don’t know all of it. But he seems nice.”
Winston shot her a glance over the roof of the car before they both slipped inside. “Well, enjoy the next few days showing him the ropes. Just don’t enjoy it too much.”
She scowled, then started the car. “I said he’s interesting, not that I’m spreading my legs.”
He laughed. That was one of the things he loved about Leah. One minute she could be as bouncy as a teen, the next she was as crude as a hooker. She was one of their best undercover operatives, and it was in part because of that chameleon blood.
“I stand corrected,” he said. “I thought I’d caught the whiff of a crush on you.”
“I’ll cop to suffering under the weight of unrequited attraction,” she admitted. “But Renly Cooper is not the object of my desire.”
“Is it serious?”
She laughed. “Not even close.”
He nodded sagely. “Just as well. Less likely to get hurt if you take it slow.”
“Did you and Linda?”
He tensed and hoped she didn’t notice. He and Leah had spent long hours on assignments together and she knew how much he’d loved—and missed—his wife. But there was no way for her to know that Linda was the last person he wanted to talk about right now, even if she was the only person filling his thoughts.
“No,” he said with a half-smile. “We didn’t take it slow at all. We both fell hard and fast. And in the end,” he added as he turned toward her, “the hurt cut deep.”
“I know,” she said. “But that was different.”
“Yeah,” he said, realizing she spoke more truly than she knew. “Very different.”