Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I smelled him before Phoenix tipped his gaze over my head and smiled in recognition.
Ralph Lauren Red.
A scent I associated with sensuality and pleasure. A masculine fragrance that from the moment I’d first smelled it on Tucker had made me clench my thighs. That scent only got better when it mixed with his sweat. It was that knowledge—and the fact that he sat next to me for the better part of thirty minutes while I fought the urge to lean closer and inhale—that had me escaping the police station to avoid this exact encounter.
It wasn’t my proudest exit but for my peace of mind it had been necessary. I hadn’t even stopped my rental when Phoenix and Dalton had pulled into the lot as I was pulling out. Which led to Phoenix phoning me. I’d felt bad lying to my friend, telling him Frank and I didn’t have time to pull back into the lot and talk to him. That was why I’d agreed to meet him and Wren at the hotel bar for dinner.
Which was precisely where I was at—in a hotel bar with Phoenix and his lovely wife sitting across from me, making Tucker’s approach not only a disaster but a painful one.
It wasn’t lost on me the last time I’d seen Tucker—before today, I mean—was in a hotel bar a few months after my divorce was final. This after months of being separated from Arnie. I used those months to see if I was the type of woman who could ever forgive her husband for cheating. I found I wasn’t and not because of the normal reasons women couldn’t get over being cheated on. During that time, I’d come to the conclusion I wasn’t heartbroken, I wasn’t wallowing in the pain of my husband putting his hands, mouth, and other parts besides on another woman. That realization was the nail in the already closed coffin. I didn’t love Arnie. Before the cheating, I’d respected him, I’d admired the work he did. He was a companion to have dinner with, but bottom line we were nothing more than two people who shared a home.
So, no, I couldn’t forgive Arnie and that was before I’d found out the cheating wasn’t a one-time thing; it had been a recurring theme throughout our short-lived marriage.
“Tucker,” Phoenix greeted. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to find Liza.”
Phoenix’s attention ping-ponged between me and Tucker before settling on me. Occupational hazard, or child born into dysfunction and always alert and in tune to his surroundings, or just plain observant, it took Phoenix mere seconds to puzzle it together. Years ago, after a case we worked together, in a moment of drunken weakness I might’ve cried on his shoulder—okay, I totally cried on his shoulder—and told him about a DEA agent I was in love with. I never told Phoenix his name, but he didn’t need a name—he was sharp; he’d sense my unease. Then there was the tiny detail; I’d yet to turn around and greet Tucker.
I gave Phoenix a pleading stare.
Phoenix’s blue eyes softened.
Yep, he’d put the pieces together.
However, Phoenix’s beautiful wife had not.
“Hey, Tucker, join us,” Wren said around a beaming smile.
Kill me now.
Even in my discomfort I couldn’t stop myself from being happy for my friend. The man who’d sworn off love. Now Phoenix was married, in the process of adopting his wife’s son, Griff, from her first marriage, and with any luck he and Wren would be popping out mini-Phoenixes soon. Or better yet, mini-Wrens. The man needed to be a girl-dad.
“Thanks, Wren, but I don’t want to intrude. I can wait?—”
“Don’t be silly, sit. We need to leave soon to pick up Griff from basketball practice.”
I heard the chair next to mine scrape as Tucker pulled it away from the table. Before I could brace against the onslaught of emotions, Tucker was seated next to me.
“Where’s Frank?”
Without looking at the man of my dreams now sitting beside me I answered, “Upstairs in his room, probably dicking around on his phone instead of reading the last brief we were sent.”
Not that I was going over the brief either. But I would as soon as I made it to my room. It was unlikely Frank set his eyes on the report, which meant he’d rely on me to give him the bullet points.
Lazy ass.
“Did you talk to Wilder?” Tucker inquired.
I stole a side-eye glance, finding Tucker looking at Phoenix.
“Yeah. He felt stupid for not thinking anything about putting Allyson and Jessica in interrogation. He won’t do it again.”
Ah, so Tucker had the same thoughts I did about where the interview had taken place. Of course he did, we always thought alike. In the past it had worked for us, worked in our that favor we could communicate without words. A single brow lift or tilt of his jaw and I could read him.
Damn him.
And these memories.
And damn all the questions I had about Tucker knowing Phoenix and working with Triple Canopy, something I’d learned when I called my Branch Chief, Shannon O’Conner. A conversation I should’ve had when she told me we were meeting Allyson at the station along with an “expert”. I had assumed the person’s expertise would surround cults, not undercover work and interrogation. Not only was it a mistake, it was a costly one.
I shouldn’t have cared, but I did.
My phone rang. I quickly snatched it off the table and in my haste to silence the damn thing, I fumbled it. I watched in horror as it bounced off the table straight into Tucker’s lap. Without thinking I reached over and grabbed my phone. When I straightened Tucker cleared his throat. Phone now in hand I glanced over at him and was momentarily stunned by his wide, white, dazzling smile.
I was too busy controlling my breathing to realize that smile had turned into a smirk.
“You good?”
Well, fuck me sideways.
“Peachy,” I snapped.
It was sheer force of will that had me tearing my gaze from Tucker to my phone screen.
My stomach clenched.
“Sorry I have to take this.”
I pushed back from the table hurriedly, answering the call knowing my father was already going to be annoyed it had taken me this long to answer his call. If it went to voicemail I’d never hear the end of it.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry it took?—”
“Hey, Dad?” he repeated on an angry sigh. “It’s ‘hello’, Liza, not ‘hey’. We’re civilized or at least I am so please refrain from using slang.”
Off to a great start.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you calling me? Bernard told me you phoned the office, as well.”
“I wanted to send Mother flowers for her birthday. Last year the delivery was left on the porch and the neighbor’s dog?—”
“The animal has been dealt with,” he informed me.
I didn’t want to know how the neighbor’s poodle had been dealt with; if my father had something to do with it I was positive it would be awful.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“No. I was calling to make arrangements for Mom’s flowers.”
Another annoyed sigh.
“I cannot imagine why you’d bother me with a flower delivery. I am not a florist nor in the business of making such deliveries. You know better than to call my office and bother my staff.”
Yes. I knew. No one bothered the almighty. Not even his daughter wanting to make sure her mother’s birthday bouquet wasn’t mauled by a dog.
“Okay, well, thanks for calling me back. That was all I needed.”
“While I have you, your mother informed me you’re still living in the dreadful apartment.”
This felt like a sneak attack. The problem was I didn’t know where his arrows were pointing so I didn’t know where to place my armor. I also didn’t understand why he was bringing it up. I’d lived in my apartment since I’d moved to Virginia—three years ago.
“Yes.”
“I thought I told you renting is a waste of money.”
Oh, now I knew where he was going.
Cue lecture.
“It’s a nice?—”
“You’re throwing your money away,” he interjected. “It’s ridiculous a woman your age is living in an apartment. How you face the day knowing you left a stately home your husband provided to an apartment is beyond me. But you went through with the divorce .” He spat the word divorce like it tasted foul, like it was my fault which in his mind me leaving my cheating husband was a character flaw. “Now you have to live with the consequences.”
I took a breath but didn’t get a chance to respond, not that my response would’ve been good enough for my father.
“You need to stop squandering your life and buy a house, Liza.” I didn’t want to buy a house. I didn’t want all the problems that came with being a homeowner. I didn’t have time to deal with all the issues that inevitably popped up. I didn’t want to have to take care of a yard.
“I don’t have time for a house.”
“Do you know how stupid that sounds?” he huffed. My shoulders slumped forward.
Here we go.
I raised my shields but it was too late, he was off on a tirade before I could block out his piercing words.
“Unlike you, I don’t have time to waste. Certainly not of frivolous conversations and nonsense. I’ve told you this, repeatedly yet you still insist on wasting my time. If this is what you treated Arnold to, it was no wonder he looked elsewhere. No one likes an argumentative, nagging woman. I suggest you change your attitude or you’ll find yourself old and alone. And for God sakes, buy a house.”
With that he hung up on me.
Another special father-daughter conversation for the books.
I glanced around the bar, homed in on the table I’d vacated. Embarrassment flooded. How I ever thought a man like Tucker Mitchell would want to be with a woman like me I’ll never know. There were times when I could convince myself my father was wrong. But mostly I knew he was right. I wasn’t good enough for Tucker and I never would be.
I watched as Phoenix pushed his chair back. He helped Wren to her feet—now that was a couple who worked. Phoenix deserved a good woman. I shoved my phone in my pocket and hustled back to the table.
“Griff called. He’s done with practice,” Wren told me as I approached.
Once again Phoenix’s gaze went between me and Tucker and I was reminded under all that tough-guy exterior he was a big ole softy and a good friend. The worry on his face was evident, his blue eyes full of concern. I gave him my best, I’m-a-badass-and-can-handle-anything look hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal about his departure. His lips twitched which meant he read my look.
Thank God.
I didn’t need him alerting Tucker I’d spilled my guts and bawled my eyes out when I’d mourned the loss of a possible future that would include him.
A mixture of hope and sadness took flight at the prospect of Tucker leaving with them. The warring emotions a stark reminder I shouldn’t be alone with the man. He was bad for my health.
After hugs, handshakes, and farewells were exchanged, Tucker moved around the table and took the chair Phoenix had vacated, placing him across the table from me.
“Sit, Lizzy.”
That killed.
Not wanting to show my hand or how much the nickname affected me, I sat.
Unfortunately, the server appeared at the table and Tucker took the opportunity to carve my heart out once again.
“Have you eaten?”
Not trusting my voice I shook my head.
“Can we please have an order of chicken fingers and fries, extra ranch. A burger, medium, with everything on the side.” His gaze dropped to the empty glass in front of me and went on. “Another Bloody Mary, Kettle One, and a Blue Moon, bottle’s fine.”
“I’ll get that in,” the server replied.
“Thanks.”
In everything that sucked at that moment, Tucker remembering my typical bar food order and my preferred vodka was at the top of the list. Why that hurt worse than his presence I didn’t understand but it did. I also hated how much I loved he ordered for me—always had.
“Tucker—”
The rest of my sentence died in my throat when his gray eyes landed on me. It wasn’t that he was staring at me, it was the way he stared. Eyes partially squinted, lips slightly downturned, studying me the way he did when he was working through a problem.
Like I was the problem.
Which I was.
“We need to talk,” he casually remarked like my heart wasn’t pounding against my ribs.
I squared my shoulders and found what was left of my strength. I was in Georgia to do my job, not aimlessly meander down memory lane reminiscing a time gone by with a man who I could never have.
So what, Tucker had broken my heart.
No, correction, I’d broken my heart when I’d walked away.
I was over it.
I’d moved on.
I was stronger than this.
I was also a big, ginormous liar.
“About?” I queried, attempting to match his nonchalance.
The server delivered our drinks, delaying Tucker’s response. Sadly the postponement wasn’t such I could flee before Tucker did what Tucker did best and laid out the situation without mincing words.
“Us.”
One word that packed a punch. It also said everything it needed to say.
“There is no us.”
His head tipped ever so slightly to the side as he quipped, “There’s not?”
God, he was so beautiful.
Through gritted teeth and a burning desire to run I shook my head.
“There’s not,” I confirmed.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
I took a deep breath, preparing to do my best to lie my way out of the predicament I found myself in but Tucker beat me to it.
“If there’s no us , then why when I walked into the interrogation room did you look like someone?—”
“If you say kicked my puppy, I’m gonna kick you in the knee. You know how I feel about that stupid saying.”
“Right,” he exaggerated the word, elongating it to punctuate how well he knew me. “Tell me again there’s no us.”
“Seeing as I haven’t spoken to you in years says there’s no us.”
“And whose fault is that, Lizzy?”
Mine .
I’d been the one to ghost him. But in my defense it was out of self-preservation. I was in love with a man who didn’t love me back.
“If I claim responsibility, will you leave?”
“No.”
Didn’t think so.
He wasn’t going to leave and I wasn’t going to talk about us, so if I was going to be tortured sitting across from Tucker’s handsome face, at least I could assuage some of my questions, guilt-free.
“How long have you worked at Triple Canopy?”
Not taking his eyes off me, Tucker picked up his beer and settled back in his chair.
“This is how you wanna play it?”
No, I want to throw myself in your arms and tell you how much I’ve missed you.
“We could sit here in silence or you can tell me what you know about Allyson and Nu Dawn or you could leave,” I offered suggestions.
“Jessica reached out to Hadley Walker,” Tucker said like I knew who Hadley Walker was. “Her dad, Jasper, started Triple Canopy with three of his Army brothers when they left the military. Hadley is married to Brady who worked for TC before they got together. Before she came to work for her dad she used to be a librarian, that’s how she knows Jessica.”
I see he opted to tell me about his involvement in my case.
Worked for me.
“Why didn’t Jessica go to the police with her sister’s concerns?”
Tucker looked at me like I was crazy.
“Forget I asked that,” I mumbled.
I knew exactly why Jessica hadn’t approached the police, they would’ve blown her off. Not only was Jessica’s story hearsay, Nu Dawn was in Tennessee, not Georgia.
“After I met with Jessica, I looked into Nu Dawn. She’d hinted at her sister’s concern there might be drugs filtering through the community. It didn’t take me long to find an active ATF investigation.”
Two things happened at once as his admission registered. Neither felt good.
“You knew I was involved in the case before you arrived today?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to?—”
“Warn you so you’d get yourself reassigned, or talk to the powers that be and get my team ousted? Fuck no.”
That blow landed, leaving me winded.
“Tucker—”
“You still gonna play the ‘there’s no us’ card?”
I wished with my whole chest there was an us. But there wasn’t and there never would be, so yes, until I found a way out of this mess I would play any card I needed to if it meant stopping Tucker from seeing me for who I truly was. Him thinking I was a bitch and liar was better than him knowing how worthless I was.
“Nu Dawn is an active investigation,” I seethed, latching onto the second part of what he’d said. “How in the hell did you find it?”
“I’d tell you but I don’t trust you won’t report me.”
“I don’t need to know how you did it to report you,” I reminded him.
“But you won’t, because I’m your ticket in.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
No, scratch that, I hated the way that sounded.
“What does that mean?”
“We’re going in.” My heartbeat was back into the ready-to-have-a-stroke range when he went in for the kill. “Consider this your warning, Lizzy—my team has already secured me and my wife two tickets for next week’s Nu Dawn seminar.”
His wife?
I wasn’t going to have a stroke, I was going to die a slow, painful, broken-hearted death.
Without permission, my gaze dropped to his left hand. He still wasn’t wearing a ring. Maybe he was a man who didn’t like jewelry.
Wife.
Tucker was married.
Oh, God, I was going to throw up.