Chapter Thirty-Seven
D rained and exhausted , Becca stumbled into her condo, saying she could think only of sleep.
Rio understood. They’d spent hours at the police station explaining matters, being interviewed. The federal agents they’d worked with before were called in. It was past dawn before they were released. Finally, he’d had to sit for a nurse, called in to re-stitch his injury and give him a new shot.
Behind her, Rio flipped closed the new deadbolt locks and followed her into the bedroom. Without talking, they stripped off clothing, and dropped it to the floor where they stood. He took two painkillers. Carefully minding his newly-stitched wound, they made love quietly. Their orgasms came in a short rush, and soon Becca fell into a deep slumber.
Holding her in his arms, Rio found sleep elusive. Now that Becca was safely out of danger, he was confident she would no longer need his protection. The threats had been neutralized and he was glad.
He guessed he’d go back to work for some government entity that could use his talents. He wasn’t a doctor, didn’t have a law degree, what else would he do for a living? Dig ditches? No, his skills earned in the elite Special Forces had served him well in civilian life, and he’d made money utilizing them. That was where his talents lay, and he’d continue on. He was a mercenary. His expertise was bought and paid for.
With a grim fatalism, he realized that his sort of life left no room for a woman like Becca. She’d expect, and she’d deserve , someone reliable, someone steady. Not a man often sent to far-flung lands, constantly putting his life at risk.
Rio knew she and her brothers would figure out a way to continue running their father’s business. They liked the work and were proficient in that industry. The corporation would become theirs. Becca would be all right.
She wouldn’t need him anymore.
One day she’d find someone who answered to a nine-to-five, a nice, good guy who’d be home for dinner. He’d take care of her, take care of their kids.
The notion of her bearing another man’s children stabbed into him, and he took a hard breath. He didn’t like considering such an outcome. In fact, he hated it.
Without thinking, he tightened his hold around her naked, sleeping body. She stirred, and he made a conscious attempt to loosen his grip. The effort actually made him grimace.
In a moment, he got his head back on track. That other guy he imagined for her was the sort of man she needed, not a nomad like him. Not a man unaccustomed to a placid life devoid of interesting predicaments he must solve using both his brains and his brawn. He was a loner, a man apart. It was time to move on.
Tomorrow.
The break should be made clean, without a lot of uncomfortable hanging around, no second-guessing himself, and absolutely no talk of feelings .
He wasn’t the type of good man Becca needed. After all, he was bad. He should face facts. He wasn’t the decent guy she should have. He’d proven that. Over and over.
He was Bad Rio.
****
T hey slept nearly around the clock, and Becca woke to see Rio pulling on his pants. It was nearly evening. His movements were necessarily slow. Re-opening his wound again was not an option. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes.
“Hey, sleepy head.” He glanced at her. “Feel okay today?”
The events of the night before flooded back and she groaned. The scene at the Magnolia Inn ... the images of Harrison frog-marching a weakened Rio into an elevator ... the moment when she acted ... the gunshots ... the blood. She shuddered. “I’m not sure yet. Are we still alive?”
“Alive and kicking.” He sat on the bed to pull on socks and tennis shoes.
From the pillows, still nude, she smiled at him. “Hungry? I could eat a horse. I don’t care what time of day it is, I’m thinking about making pancakes, eggs, bacon. And maybe breakfast potatoes. Sound good?” Pushing her arms into the air, she arched her back, and stretched.
“Can I have a rain check?” He shrugged into his button-down shirt and picked up his shoulder bag.
Puzzled, she stopped in mid-stretch. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” He picked up his oilskin bag. “Time for me to leave.”
She watched as he slipped the strap across his neck. Perhaps it was the dullness of her just-waking brain, but she didn’t understand him. “To leave for where?”
“Just time for me to go. You’re safe now, with no further threat. All the bad guys are neutralized.” He turned and left the bedroom, stopping in the kitchen to fill a quick glass of water from the faucet.
Bewildered, she grabbed a light wrapper and followed. As he drained his glass and set it in the sink, she pulled on her wrapper and tied it at her waist. “Sorry, I just woke up, but I’m a little foggy. What’s going on here? You’re leaving ... like ... for good?”
He went to her front door and disengaged the dead bolt. “The job’s done. Time for me to head out.”
Her jaw dropped and the mists of sleep fled. A hideous shock spiraled up her spine. “You’re heading out as in moving on ?”
Coming back to her, he cupped her jaw. “I’ll miss you.”
Her eyes round, she heard herself repeat him like a stupid parrot. “You’ll miss me? I—I thought. Well, I figured—” Stopping herself, she felt unexpected tears well in her lower lids. Growing frantic, she searched his eyes. Hadn’t she always told herself he wouldn’t stay with her? Hadn’t she long ago realized the hard truth—that he wasn’t going to be her man?
“You didn’t figure I’d stick around,” he scolded her gently. “I never made promises. Never said we’d get married or anything crazy. You knew that.”
All at once she found standing before her the old Rio, the one who’d first confronted her in the cabin. He was again the aloof, uncaring, detached man she’d once discovered him to be. Had she been right about him all along? Was he truly cold? Was he incapable of emotionally caring for another human being?
She felt her throat working. Pain took hold, grew in her chest, stabbed like a hundred sharpened knives. She jerked her chin from his hand. “You never promised to stay with me,” she acknowledged. “Actually, I didn’t think you would.” She gave an awkward laugh. “I just thought ... silly me, that you’d want to.”
A shadow passed over his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m tempted, but I’m just not the committing kind. I gotta keep moving, you know?”
“You’re tempted,” she repeated. Why did she keep echoing everything he said? She was having trouble understanding. “You’re walking out on me—away from us ?” He was abandoning their deep connection, their intense relationship, and he was doing it like it was nothing ?
A new anger mingled with the heartache.
His hand went to the knob. He was just walking out. Going to the next job, and naturally the next woman as though the magic between the two of them had no more importance than a casual fling. As though what they had wasn’t incredibly intense, or valuable, or life changing, or something to be honored. Something precious .
“Rio,” she whispered. “Please.”
He stiffened, turned to face her. His features hardened. “You’ll be all right, Becca. You have your family. You’ll find somebody else. You’ve got your business. Your damn hubcaps.”
“My damn hubcaps?” That stung. She felt her trembling lips firm. “I realize my wheel cover business isn’t curing cancer, but we do provide a service and products people need and want.”
“Yeah, well, when it cures cancer, give me a holler.” He opened the locks. “They’re not that important in the world, your hubcaps. Don’t make a big deal out of them.”
She watched him, hurt beyond measure. “Why?” she whispered, agonized. “Why are you saying these things? Why are you leaving?”
“Cause it’s time,” he answered simply.
Becca felt her face flush. Suddenly she felt used. Giving him her back, she pulled at the ties of her light robe, tightened them around her waist until they pinched her skin.
The small pain helped her to gather dignity. She refused to beg. Dashing at her eyes, she said, “Hey, thanks for everything. Much appreciated and all that. Have a great life.”
“Don’t be mad, Becca. I told you. I’m bad.”
She heard rather than saw his hand open the door.
Whirling, she said, “You know what I think? I think you use that word to describe yourself when you need emotional protection. It’s a wall you build so you won’t get hurt.”
He shrugged, but she kept on. She had to. “I am mad at you right now, but mad doesn’t even begin to describe this. I’m furious. And I am hurt. You’re just going to walk out of here and out of my life like I don’t matter to you?”
He remained silent.
“But I do, Rio,” she said. The sadness had already started seeping in, pulling her down, down into a whirling vortex of agony. “I really, really do. Life won’t leave you unscathed when you keep running from it. You will miss me. You’re going to miss me something awful.”
He just stared at her.
She could barely speak around the terrible lump in her throat, but she had to get out a final notion. “One last thing. You keep saying you’re bad. You use it as a shield. I’m disappointed and angry. But there’s a simple truth one day you’ll have to face.” She raised her chin. “You’re wrongheaded and acting just plain stupid. And oh, and now insulting. But despite all that, you’re not bad, Rio. You’re good. You’re a good man.” Trembling now, she sent him all her pain and agony through her eyes. She pointed outside as though his leaving were all her idea. “Now go.”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t her idea at all.