“These bastards murder indiscriminately. What the hell do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to be a professional.” Jake closed the distance between them and jabbed a finger into Madrid’s chest. “Evidently you’re too wrapped up in having sex to manage.”
“This isn’t about sex, damn it.”
“Yeah, well, I hope she’s worth it, because you’re an inch away from kissing your career goodbye.”
For several tense minutes the only sound came from the tinkle of rain against dry leaves and the rustle of wind through the trees. “You know as well as I do the woman and that kid are your best bet for smoking these bastards out of their holes,” Jake said finally.
Madrid shook his head. “I’ll find another way.”
“For your sake, I hope you can.”
At that, Jake Vanderpol turned and walked away.
Chapter Fourteen
The RV smelled of her when he walked inside. A light, airy scent that reminded him of summer meadows and wildflowers. A scent that made him long for something elusive and put a knot in his gut because he knew it was the one thing he could never have.
Hanging his jacket in the cubbyhole beside the door, he headed to the stove to make coffee.
“What were you two talking about?”
Madrid turned to see her standing in the hall just outside the lavatory. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, revealing a long and slender throat. Staring at her, all he could think was that he wanted to put his mouth on her.
“Agency stuff.” His voice came out as a growl as he turned back to the stove. He didn’t want to face her feeling like this. He knew one touch from her and he would do something he’d regret for the rest of his life.
“You know he’s right.”
He stiffened. “I know using you or Nicolas as bait would be the fastest way to get you both killed.” Coffee forgotten, he turned to face her. “Are you willing to risk his life?”
“Not his.” She stared at him, her gaze unflinching. “Mine.”
“No way.”
“You’d rather have countless young women dying?”
“I’d rather find a better way.”
“There is no better way!” she shouted abruptly. “Damn it, I want my life back. I want to feel safe. I want Nicolas to be safe. I want the bastards responsible for Angela’s death to pay for what they did.”
Suddenly furious, Madrid crossed the space between them. Grasping her upper arms, he shook her. “I will not have another death on my conscience!” he roared.
Jess blinked, opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Seconds later she managed, “What?”
He hadn’t meant to say it. Dredging up the past was the last thing he needed, especially with a woman who was all too willing to lay it on the line. For the span of several heartbeats he stood there, holding her arms, his heart pounding.
She stared back at him, her eyes wide and startled. “What are you talking about?”
Until this moment he hadn’t realized the root of his resistance to using her as bait. The source of the knot in his gut. Over the past five years he’d learned to live with it. He’d learned to use it as part of what drove him to do his job and do it well.
“Madrid, talk to me.”
He didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t want to reveal his greatest fear. His deepest agony. Or the deep, dark pit that was his past. But looking into her eyes, he knew she wasn’t going to let it go.
Releasing her, he let his hands slide down her arms. “Let it go, Jess.”
He started to turn away, but she stopped him. “Whose death are you talking about?”
“Not just one life.” Slowly he turned to face her. “Two lives. Two innocent people gone forever. Both deaths were my fault.”
Outside, the rain had begun to drum, now pounding hard against the sheet-metal roof. Inside, his heart kept perfect time, increasing with the torrent.
“Who?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He didn’t want to say the words. Even though five years had passed, they still ripped open something inside him. “My wife and child.”
For a moment she just stood there, staring at him, her eyes wide and filled with pain. Not for herself. For him. He didn’t want her sympathy. He sure as hell didn’t want her pity. All he wanted was to keep her safe, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt because of him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s done. In the past.” He grimaced. “I’m a wiser man for it.”
She seemed to consider that for a moment. “I can’t see you being at fault for something like that. You’re too careful. Too good at what you do.”
“I wasn’t five years ago.” The smile that curved his mouth was sharp. “One day all that recklessness caught up with me.”
In the worst possible way, a little voice reminded him.