*
Her silence hurt more than it should have. Then again, he understood something she obviously didn’t – that they were meant to be together, and that meant trust and sharing. So far it looked like that was going to be a hard thing for her to accept.
He shouldn’t be surprised. None of his brothers had it easy when they’d found their women. Taryn had run away from Jake, risking her life instead of entrusting him with the knowledge that she was the daughter of a murdered US Senator, the only surviving member of a powerful political family, held captive and then stalked for ten long years.
And Ian almost lost Lexi and his firstborn when she decided not to share her life-threatening medical condition with him, believing he was in love with her step-sister – both of which could have been resolved if they had only talked about it.
Maggie nearly died because she withheld the seriousness of her injury from his doctor brother, then Michael almost bought it because the poor bastard couldn’t think straight when he’d thought he lost her and took risks he never would have otherwise.
That did not bode well for him, did it? When he looked at it from that angle, he saw a disturbing pattern emerging, all based on the women’s inability to grasp what the men seemed to realize fairly easily – that when a Callaghan man found his true soul mate, there could not be an alternate ending. They would end up together, and this whole deny-and-run thing just made things that much more difficult.
Sean ran his hand through his hair, not even caring anymore what it symbolized. He was past denial and ready to accept the truth, but Nicki was not. And if the pattern held true, Nicki would probably try to flee before he could ... his entire body tensed when he saw the small canvas pack sitting there beside the door, ready to go.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, completely abandoning all pretense.
*
His voice was a little too soft, a little too knowing. She followed his gaze, then cursed herself for not putting the pack in a less obvious place; she wasn’t usually that careless. Then a tiny voice deep inside her mind whispered a truly disturbing possibility: maybe she’d wanted Sean to see it, maybe some part of her wanted him to stop her.
She shook that thought off. It was beyond ridiculous. She did not want to stay here, and she had no further use for the very hot, very sexy alpha male currently making her wet simply by looking at her.
She tried to pull off a casual shrug. “It’s time.” Now that she had the last, final piece of the puzzle, there could be no more stalling. She only wished the information hadn’t come from her own brother. And how ironic was that? That weeks of discreetly sniffing around for information weren’t as effective as her brother’s sudden backslide?
Benny was using a different name now. And he’d changed his appearance, too. But nothing would save him.
“Is it?” His voice was softer, his body closer. She hurried to put some distance between them, then drew up her head and met his stare head on, drawing forth every rational reason why she had to get the hell out of Dodge.
One, her mother was gone, and Nicki’s obligation to her – real or imagined - was complete. Two, Nick had his own life now, a good job and people who would look out for him. If she stayed here, she would only hold him back. She was a constant reminder of what once was, and what he needed was to get beyond that and look ahead. Three, Sean Callaghan was beginning to look at her like he was interested in more than a quick tumble or two. There could be nothing more between them, not now, not ever. And four – by this time tomorrow, Nicki Milligan would once again cease to exist.
“I buried my mother. Got the added bonus of hauling my brother’s drugged-up ass home before he killed himself or someone else. Oh, yeah, and I got to fuck the big, bad hard-ass while I was here, too. I think I’ve accomplished pretty much everything I possibly could in this Mayberry town.” Except for killing the bastard that ruined all of our lives.
*
Sean’s jaw clenched right along with his fists. Son of a bitch, it was starting already. Something about her was different. Her face was harder, colder; her eyes were like polished steel. Even her voice was different. There were no traces of amusement or anger or desire, not even sadness. Just a cold indifference that chilled him to the bone.
And it was all bullshit, he realized suddenly, wondering why he hadn’t seen it earlier. This was nothing but another superbly played performance, one of what he suspected were several false personas she adopted as needed.
He had seen the real Nicki, the one who had nestled against him last night on the floor while they ate Chinese and talked. The one who could get lost in the mechanics of an engine. The one who had made love to him this morning with her mouth and her body. Those were all the genuine article.