“I texted her,” Josslyn replied. “We all just want to—”
“Smother me?”
Both women gasped. Adam stepped in front of them.
“Bennett, I’m going to give you a free pass on that one, because I can relate to the pain you’re feeling right now. And we’re going to respect your wishes and give you some space. But don’t even think about shutting us out,” Adam cautioned. “You were a relentless prick to me last year when it came to burying my emotions. I’ll be all too happy to return the favor.”
Adam gestured for the women to make their way off the boat. Marin took a step toward Ben but quickly thought better of it. Good thing because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to tolerate any touching right now.
“You know where to find us,” Griff said. “All you have to do is reach out. Day or night. And we’re there.”
And they would be. That was the problem. His chosen family would offer platitudes and condolences. They’d feed him and joke with him. But when they were done, they’d pair off and he’d be left alone.
Again.
And there went that anger he was trying to keep reined in, churning in his gut like lava. But, damn it, Quinn had left him. She was gone. Stupidly sacrificing her life to protect him and her parents. And no matter how many cookies Marin tried to feed or how many beers he shared with Griff and Adam, the sting wasn’t going away.
Ever.
He jerked at the hose and wound it up. Griff was right about one thing; he needed answers. Minutes later, he was making his way onto the Potomac. He steered the bow of the boat toward the starboard side, careful to navigate past the part of the river where the explosion had taken place last night. The puddle pirates of the coast guard could order him out of that part of the river, but he had every right to search the rest of the Potomac for anything that would give him closure.
Ben doubted he’d ever get out of his mind the image of that ball of fire Quinn ignited when she launched her Jet Ski like a weapon into the hull of the boat. The coast guard hadn’t even bothered with rescue mode. They’d gone straight into recovery. Cleaning up the river before the weekend boaters descended in four days.
His throat grew tight and he reached for the bottle of water, chugging half before pouring the rest over top of his head to keep him awake. He sailed aimlessly for an hour, venturing out into the Atlantic where his thoughts were consumed with keeping his boat upright. By the time he turned back, his muscles were exhausted and body was drenched with sweat despite it being barely nine in the morning.
Too bad none of it dulled the pain.
He was passing the buoy marking the turn to Watertown when his phone buzzed with a text. Not surprising it was Rebecca again.
Come home.
As much as he loved and appreciated his family, that was the last thing he wanted to do. But if he went back to Alexandria, Griff and Adam would be lurking around the marina within hours no matter what they’d promised. There was one place he could hide where no one would find him. Where the memories of Quinn would be the most painful because she was the only one he’d ever shared the place with. But as angry as he was at her impetuous act last night, he never wanted to forget her. He steered the Seas the Day in the direction of the lighthouse.
Twenty minutes later, he tied off the boat and shoved a six-pack of beers into a backpack. Not enough to get him as soused as he wanted to be, but it was a start. He trudged up the wooden steps and nearly fell back down at the sight of a woman sitting on the porch of the Think Tank.
Too bad it wasn’t the woman he dreamed of seeing.
Secretary Lyle got to her feet, brushing sand off her pants as she did so. Ben was tempted to pop the top on one of those beers right now. He glanced over at her detail, both of them were unsuccessful at hiding their pitying looks.
“Caracas?” Ben asked.
“Stable, but the doctors expect him to make a full recovery.”
“Be sure and congratulate him for me at the medal ceremony.” He moved to go past her, but she blocked him.
Despite the years of having manners and respect drilled into him, Ben had a very difficult time suppressing the urge to shove the woman out of his way.
She cocked her head to the side. “You’re angry at me for something. And I’d like to know why.”
The truth rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. “It’s simple. You ruthlessly sent the woman I loved to her death.” He was surprised at how good it felt to get that off his chest.
“Agent Darby did what she thought was necessary.”
“The coast guard would have picked Eugenie up!”
The secretary scoffed. “Eugenie was a trained professional. Assets of her caliber don’t get picked up. She was too big of a liability to me, to you, and to Agent Darby. It was too much of a risk to chance her slipping away.”
“So you sent Quinn after her! I saw the little hand signals the two of you were exchanging. What was that some secret code you were taught at spy school?”
He took a step toward her. The agents on her detail edged closer but she waved them away.
“Quinn launched herself at that boat because she believed her only purpose in this world was to serve and protect.” His voice grew hoarse as he tried to press the words out past the boulder in his throat. “She also foolishly believed she wasn’t deserving of anything more. Well who the hell was serving and protecting her? Not you. Instead you took advantage of that!”
The secretary sighed in exasperation. “Perhaps we should take this inside.”
Hell no!
He was done talking. It was time to get a good drunk on. Preferably one that lasted six months.
“Sorry Madame Secretary, I have a strict ‘no girls allowed’ policy at the Think Tank.”
This time he was able to dodge around her. He quickly leaned into the retinal scanner, grateful when the locks clicked open.
“You might want to rethink that policy,” she murmured.
“Not gonna happen. And if you don’t like it, fire my ass. Better yet, I quit.”
He stormed into the lighthouse, satisfaction beginning to build inside him at the idea of slamming the door in his boss’s—make that ex-boss’s—face. But something inside caught his eye.
More like a someone.
His heart stopped in his chest. The backpack slid from his fingers.
“Quinn,” he somehow managed to say.
“Finally,” she said, her tone a bit north of snippy. “Where have you been?”
Where had he been? What the hell?
“I’ll just let the two of you sort this out,” he heard the secretary say. “I’ll expect to see both of you in my office—”
He slammed the door in her face.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Quinn said with a laugh.
The anger he’d been holding in check for past six hours surged to the surface. He stalked across the living room stopping inches from where she stood.
“Never mind that,” he bit out. “What do you mean where have I been? Where the hell have you been?”
She had the good grace to look sheepish. “Here. Waiting for you.”
He wanted to touch her. To make sure this wasn’t some grief-induced hallucination. But he didn’t dare. Because if it really was her standing before him, he might just strangle her.