CHAPTER 7
Imogen
Imogen’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze catching on a wooden ceiling with boards stained a deep pecan. Below them, exposed timber beams crisscrossed her vision. Something niggled at her mind while she studied them as if she ought to recognize the cabin-esque construction. They were rustic. Too rustic to be in the lieutenant’s home.
With that realization, Imogen bolted upright.
Where am I?
She drew a sharp breath, head swiveling to take in the room.
Mat’s house.
The tan leather sofa she’d been lying on was new, but the stacked-stone fireplace across from the couch, the painting of the lake hanging above it, and the smell of pine logs as they burned. Those were all the same. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Cozy. Warm. Safe.
A sigh floated out of her, half relief and half anguish. She never thought she’d return here, and an overwhelming need to flee made her drag herself to her feet. When they’d been together, she’d loved staying at his place. She’d practically lived there even though Mat had never asked her to move in.
A dull ache pulsed under her ribcage. Her own folly—reading too much into their relationship. The jaggedness of that truth still had the power to make her heart bleed. The memories engulfed her as she stood amidst the past, threatening to drag her back onto the sofa.
Imogen rubbed at the invisible wound on her chest, dropping her stare to her feet to try to block them out. Her brows squished together in confusion when she caught sight of her toes. Her high heels were gone, but she still wore the too-long costume dress. When she remembered the chaos at the party—the smoke and the danger, then fleeing through the claustrophobic corridor, her head snapped up to search for Mateo.
What happened?
She’d felt strange, and then she’d . . .
Did I faint?
A tremor of shock rolled through her. She’d never done that before.
How long was I out? And how did I get here?
With a huff, she yanked one side of the dress up so she wouldn’t trip. She had to find Mat because she needed answers.
Before she’d taken more than a step, she heard his voice behind her and spun around. She moved so fast she nearly fell onto the couch. Splaying her hands on the top of the sofa’s back, she saw him talking on the phone ten feet away. His back was to her as he stared out the floor-length windows, speaking softly. The darkness beyond them made her think she hadn’t been out for too long if morning had yet to come.
“. . . still on. I’ll go there tomorrow.”
Imogen didn’t know who he was talking to or what they were discussing, but she was growing impatient for the conversation to end. Her gaze narrowed to a hole she drilled into his spine, silently demanding he turn around and acknowledge her.
His right hand lifted to run through his dark-brown hair as he finally turned. It froze there, and he abruptly stopped talking. She read the relief evident on his face. Then he blinked, and anger replaced it.
“I gotta go,” he barked into the phone before hanging up and shoving it into his shirt pocket. He’d clearly had enough time to change into jeans and a flannel. It tugged against the ridge of muscles along his shoulders as he moved. Her gaze fell to the sleeves he’d folded up, which bared his powerful forearms. He looked like her Mat, which sent a ripple of heat wrapped in nostalgia coursing through her body.
Imogen shook her head. She refused to let it affect her anymore. “What happened?”
He stalked toward her, and she pushed off the back of the couch to face him as he came around it. The anger lingered in the set of his jaw, and she wondered what that was about. He couldn’t really be mad at her for passing out, could he?
If anyone should be mad, it was her. He’d made her go into that stupid hallway, to begin with! Feeling righteous, Imogen propped her hands on her hips, ready to freeze him out if he so much as hinted this situation was her fault.
Her resolve melted into surprise when his arms banded around her and pulled her into his chest. “Ohhmph.” A word that was more noise than anything intelligible left her throat.
What is he doing?
Her arms were trapped at her sides while Mat hugged her as if . . . as if he’d almost lost her. His hands caressed her back, then traveled up to her hair before reaching her face. He tilted her chin, and she sunk into the churning pools of his hazel eyes. “I’m sorry, Gen.”
Her body and brain were a jumble of mixed signals. She’d never stopped loving this man, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Being in his arms this way felt right and wrong all at the same time. Somehow, she managed to ask, “For what?”
“For putting you through that.” The regret he felt tightened his features. “You were so scared you fainted.”
Indignation spread through her like creeping frost. His phrasing made her sound weak, and she didn’t like it. “I put myself in that situation, remember?”
She’d gained access to the lieutenant’s house on her own, braved the cartel at that party; she’d even planned to question El Jaguar before Mat stepped in. Fear had followed her, but she’d shoved it aside. She refused to let all that be eclipsed by a childhood phobia.
She started to wriggle out of his hold, but Mat leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I know how strong you are, querida .” He brushed a wave of hair behind her ear, punctuating the endearment. “But trauma doesn’t care ’bout that. If I’d known—” He cut himself off with a barely discernible head shake. His drawl dropped an octave, wrapping around her like a comfy blanket. “Tell me what happened to you, Gen.”
She fought against his pull. It was much too easy to forget how he’d wronged her when he held her like this. “Why do you care?”
His gaze heated. “I never stopped carin’.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and her knees wobbled. But she had to be strong. “You have a funny way of showing it, then.” If he’d really cared for her, how could he just disappear?
Pain lanced his features; his lids lowered, and his jaw muscles tensed. While a wave of sympathy washed over her, she ignored it. She was hurting, too. Had been for the last five years.
When he opened his eyes, resignation filled them. Instead of denying it, he said, “You knew I didn’t fit in your world.”
His comment placed a puzzled frown on her lips. “What world was that?”
“The upper crust of Texas society.”
At the realization of how little he thought of her, sadness barreled through her veins, weighing her down with dead weight from the past. She shook her head. “That wasn’t my world, Mat. You were my world.”
◆◆◆
Mateo
The sadness lurking in Imogen’s eyes made him want to believe her, but he’d heard her say those exact words to her father. ‘Mat doesn’t fit in this world.’
He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it up. Imogen collapsing had scared ten years off his life. He’d been relieved beyond measure to see her awake and alert. When he’d turned from the window and seen her standing, all he could think about was how much he needed to hold her . . . and to apologize. Anger at himself still simmered under his skin at the fact he’d put her in that situation. If he’d known how afraid she’d been, he’d have found another way out of the lieutenant’s house.
After she fainted on him, he carried her through the servant’s quarters and out the tunnel a gardener had made years before. The lieutenant’s help shared a tiny rec room with a fireplace, dining table, and kitchenette. Behind the tallest cabinet was a false front that hid a door leading down to a tunnel under the gardens. It came out at the edge of the property.
Traversing it had taken only ten minutes, and because Imogen was so petite, carrying her didn’t slow him down. As soon as he’d made it out, he’d called his boss at the Rangers. Major Swanson had arranged transport for them back to Mat’s house, but he’d started to worry when Imogen still hadn’t come to. He’d been about ready to take her to the hospital before she woke up.
His throat constricted, reliving that fear. He took a step back to give them both some space as he pushed those thoughts away. “How are you feelin’?”
As soon as the question left his mouth, he realized how dumb it sounded. She arched a brow at him, and he stumbled over his words. “I meant, uh, not lightheaded or dizzy?” Mat rubbed at the back of his neck, waiting for Imogen to smooth over his sudden awkwardness.
“No. I’m fine.” She crossed her arms with a pointed stare. “But you still haven’t told me what happened.”
“Sit.” He waved a hand at the couch and sunk onto it.
Imogen didn’t move. When he caught her coffee-tinted gaze, ice had grown there.
Mat sighed and corrected himself, “Please sit, Gen.”
She gave him a sweetly fake smile, “Since you asked nicely,” then sat facing him on the sofa, pulling her legs up and tucking them under her.
Where to start?
Mat scrubbed both hands down his face and wished for a shot of whiskey. When he looked at Imogen, she was chewing on her lip.
“Who was the man? The one they were going to . . .”
I wish I knew.
The fact the lieutenant had kept that from him didn’t bode well for Mat. He’d have to check in tomorrow. Head to the safehouse El Jaguar favored, but he worried about his reception when he did.
Nothing I can do about it now.
Shoving those concerns away, he launched into the story. “The lieutenant held the Carnival party because he wanted to flush out a traitor. Th—”
She waved her hand as if shooing away his words. “I heard that part.”
His sanctimonious streak wanted to smirk at her admission of guilt, but he only said, “Well, the problem with that was I’m the traitor.”
Worry flashed in her pretty eyes. “He doesn’t know? Doesn’t suspect you?”
“No,” was Mat’s immediate response, but then he had to wonder . . . “I don’t think so, but the plan had been to burn a life-like effigy to send a message. I had no idea he’d changed it to an execution.”
She shuddered, and Mat reached for her hand. When she didn’t pull away, something in him that had been wound too tight for too long loosened a little. “The chaos that interrupted it was a raid. The sheriff’s office acted on a tip they’d received. The Rangers weren’t aware of it; otherwise, I’d’ve been prepared.”
Imogen’s eyes widened. “How long have you been a Ranger?”
“Three years.”
“Congratulations. I know that was always your dream.” She seemed genuinely happy for him until a frown tugged at her lips. “Why did we run, though? Couldn’t you have shown them your badge?”
“Not and keep my cover intact.” Wanting to smooth the lines on her forehead, he scooted closer and grabbed her other hand. “Look, Imogen. My assignment is to find the Lazcano Cartel’s chemist. I’ve been with the lieutenant for over a year, and I’m too close to finishin’ the job to throw all that work away.”
“Well, what will you do now? Where’s El Jaguar ?”
The wheels were turning in that too-smart head of hers, but whatever she was planning, he had every intention of keeping her out of it. He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them. “I know where he went. I’ll check in with him tomorrow.”
“But won’t it look suspicious that you didn’t go right away?”
She had a point, but . . . Mat shrugged. “Not if I play my cards correctly.”
Imogen lifted her chin, determination clear in her pose. “I want to go with you.”
He was equally determined to keep her away from the lieutenant. “No.”
She leaned in, settling a palm on his knee. Mat’s gaze dropped to her delicate touch as she asked, “Please?”
Her proximity started to distract him, but he figured that was her aim. Meeting her gaze, he told her, “Not a chance, Gen.”
To his surprise, the ice princess exploded, arms fluttering in frustration as she pushed to her feet. “I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing!”
He stood, captured her face, and spoke softly to calm her down. “I’ll find Emil. You have to trust me.”
Her expression fell before she tugged his hands from her face. “How can I do that? How can I know you won’t disappear on me again?”
The haunted look in her eye cut right to the bone. Capturing a dark wave of her hair, he tested it between his fingers. Thick and silky. He’d always loved her hair. It was strong and delicate at the same time. Just like her.
“I walked away for you,” he paused when his voice cracked, “and it’s the hardest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done.”
She sucked in a breath. “What?” Her eyes searched his face as if she could find the truth there. “What do you mean?”
He had nothing to hide. Not anymore. What would it matter if she knew why he’d left? It wouldn’t change the last five years they’d spent apart. “You’d worked so hard for the women’s shelters. I couldn’t be the reason your father ruined it for you.”
Her eyes widened in recognition. “You heard our conversation?”
Mat’s stomach fell as he nodded. That damn conversation had been burned into his memory for eternity.
She shook her head. “I would’ve found a way to make the shelters happen without him.”
A sigh filtered out of Mat. “I know you coulda, but it woulda meant losin’ your family. I know what it’s like not havin’ one, and I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want you to have to choose.”
“So you took the choice away from me?” Her voice wobbled with unshed tears. “But I would’ve chosen you.” Imogen leaned in, eyes shining. “Mat, I would’ve chosen us .”
The past became a physical ache, hammering at his chest. He touched her cheek, capturing a tear that escaped. “I know, querida . But I wasn’t worth you losin’ your family over.”
“I thought you were my family.” Her quiet statement shook him like an earthquake.
Hearing her say that shifted something inside Mat. All those years of being shuffled through foster homes, never being good enough to stay, had wormed its way into his soul like a virus. It was stealthy, hurting him without him realizing it. Making him question his worth and what he deserved out of life. But hearing Imogen say those words helped him beat it. The hurt he’d harbored for feeling like he hadn’t been good enough rolled off him, no longer trapping him with its weight.
If he’d known she felt that way . . . would he have walked away five years ago?
He’d never wanted to cost Imogen her parents, but they could’ve talked it out. Worked through it. He hadn’t given them the chance. Maybe it had been plain old fear or the potential pain of rejection that really made him walk away.
The thought was an unsettling one he’d have to examine more later. Right now, the only thing he wanted was to kiss the woman he never stopped loving.