The team, now known as Falcon Falls Security, had been called in to help, and Griffin, a former Army Delta guy, had protected Savanna during the hunt to bring down her attackers. Jesse hadn’t been sure if Savanna would ever love again after losing her husband in 2015, but Griffin managed to sweep her off her feet.
He was happy for Savanna, and although he hadn’t worked with Griffin very long at the firm, he was a solid and upstanding guy. Griffin had his stamp of approval.
“Jesse, I need you back.” Thatcher’s voice grew deeper. “At least for one more case, and if you want to work with this Falcon Falls, then so be it.” Thatcher tilted his head, studying him. The man looked like a slightly younger version of Harrison Ford and could have been his stand-in or stunt double. Hell, even though Thatcher was in his mid-sixties, Jesse didn’t doubt he was capable of doing stunt work. “It hurts that you came back, and it wasn’t with me, but I’ll forgive you if you work this one last job.”
“It’ll never be one last job. You’ll keep coming back. I know you. You won’t give up if I say yes.”
“You’re the best we’ve ever had. Will probably ever have.” His compliment only made Jesse feel more like a piece of shit because he didn’t want to be the best in the way that made Thatcher proud. He only wanted to be the best version of himself for Ella, and the man he used to be would never be that for her.
“Take a few days. Think about it.” He lifted his arm, pushed his sleeve up, and checked his watch. “I have a plane to catch. I’ll be back Stateside the day after New Year’s. You have until then, but I have a hunch you’ll call me before my plane even leaves Alabama.”
“And if I don’t open that envelope?” Jesse folded his arms across his chest, trying to remain strong. To not cave to Thatcher.
“You will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Thatcher set a finger on top of the business card, his head swiveling toward the reclaimed pine. “Because you can’t help yourself. You’re curious. You like to . . . fix things.”
Jesse kicked the toe of his work boot against the dusty floor. “Take the file with you. I’ll burn it. I said I’m done, and I’m done.”
Thatcher shook his head. “And if I told you what’s in that file is linked to the last assignment you took?” He paused, allowing Jesse a second to absorb the news. “Are you so stubborn you’re willing to put Ella’s life in danger?”
Jesse squinted as though the sunlight was in his face instead of to his back. “What?” His eyes went to the damn envelope, and his pulse climbed with every millisecond he waited for Thatcher to elaborate.
Thatcher maneuvered around Jesse, ignoring his question. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”
Jesse swallowed the lump down his throat as he turned and watched Thatcher toss a goodbye wave over his shoulder on his way out the double doors.
Damn it. Thatcher would do anything to try and lure him back into the fold. But could he take a chance that his former boss was merely full of shit, letting him think Ella was in danger unless he returned for this one last job? And of all the assignments for this new one to possibly connect to.
Jesse removed his black ball cap and set it down, then clawed at his unruly hair while staring at the envelope. He wouldn’t put it past Thatcher to lie just to rope him back. Play those mind games.
But he also couldn’t light up the envelope like he’d contemplated doing a minute ago without knowing the mark to determine if it was a legit target. And somehow a risk to Ella.
Jesse picked up the envelope, and it trembled in his hand as he broke the seal. A manilla folder was inside, and when he scanned the contents, his breath hitched, and his entire body went cold.
An overwhelming feeling of dread swelled within him. Death knocking on his door, there to collect his soul and take him back to his old life.
Jesse shut the folder and set it on the table before eyeing his newly plastered wall by the perfectly placed tools. Without thinking, he stalked toward the wall, rounded his fist, and began punching. Burying his fist into the plaster, he tore at the sheetrock.
His vision grew blurry as he lost control. As he lost his damn mind.
“Jesse McAdams, what in God’s name did that wall ever do to you?”
Jesse went still at the sound of Ella’s voice behind him.
Working to catch his breath, he eyed the damaged wall, then slowly turned to face her. To explain away the insanity. “I thought there was an animal trapped in here.”
“An animal is why you look madder than a wet hen?” Ella lifted her chin, taking him in from bottom to top. Boots. Jeaned legs. Ripped black tee. Messy hair. And when her eyes finally reached his face, she appeared bewildered. Most likely by the angry look on his face, the hard clench of his jaw, and a whole lot of crazy in his blue eyes.
“It was . . . noisy. Bothering me.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she drew out, calling him on his shit, folding her arms in the “don’t cross me, mister” stance she used on her grade school students.
She moved closer to him as if assuming his dumbass excuses would continue, but now she was too close. He could see the scattering of freckles across the bridge of her makeup-free nose. Smell her perfume that reminded him of summertime and lazy beach days they spent on the Gulf when they were teenagers. Well, he’d been a teen back then, and she’d been a preteen, he supposed.
Her gaze remained steady on him. She’d been pissed at him for some time now, and he knew, in part, it had to do with the fact he continued to honor their New York deal to “forget” the ten times they’d had sex that weekend three years ago.
Had he actually forgotten? No.
He replayed the nights they’d spent together in vivid detail while working his hand over his cock almost every night since then.
But he’d never brought it up to her, and anytime she’d dared to broach the subject before or after her engagement to Banker Boy Brian, he’d shut her down within seconds like a grade A asshole.
If he talked about it with her, his control would snap. If she so much as mentioned any of the things they’d done to each other that weekend, he’d unleash his inner beast, and it’d be to fuck, not fight.
Ella deserved better. That weekend in New York should have never happened. He should have waited until he became the kind of man who could look her in the eyes without guilt staining his vision, making him see red.
Always red. Everyone he knew was a die-hard Bama fan. But that Roll Tide crimson red held a different meaning for him.
“Does your wall-hittin’ have anything to do with that SUV with tinted windows that I saw leave before I pulled in?” She unfolded her arms and waved a hand like a magician doing a trick. “It felt very cloak-and-dagger. You have a new job for Falcon? One you’re not happy about?”
Shit, if he lied and said yes, and Ella mentioned a job to Griffin, Griffin would be clueless. “A guy I used to work with offered me a job. I told him I’m with Falcon now.”
“Oh.”
Oh. Such an insignificant little sound. But it would live in Jesse’s memory as the sound Ella had whispered, whimpered, and even screamed out during the many times they’d had sex that weekend.