8. Millie
All ten fingers pressed to the top of the table, knuckles void of color to keep me upright as I studied Killian. My mind could barely believe he was right there. After all this time, he was only three feet away, yet it felt like thousands.
He was more gorgeous than I remembered. Back then, he was built, but adult Killian was model worthy, with broad shoulders and long, lean muscles that were showcased by the ripped jeans hugging his thighs and ass. A long-sleeve, dark gray Henley stretched across his defined chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. And that hair. Holy hell, was that a man bun?
His exposed thick forearms flexed as he tightened both hands into clenched fists before stretching his fingers out wide. Seconds had passed since Rhyan left us alone. Her five-minute timeframe to clear the uncomfortableness in the air that our past manufactured ticked down, yet neither of us had uttered a word.
Knees wobbly, I eased into the rolling chair, too afraid the lightheaded feeling from shock and various conflicting emotions would send me crashing to the floor. Not the strong, sure-of-herself professional I wanted to portray to the man who shattered my heart when he vanished.
“So you’re alive.” A wince pulled at his handsome face as he dipped his chin. Not knowing how to follow that up, I bit my lower lip and nodded.
What else was there to say?
He was here, an FBI agent and looking great. All that time I spent worried about him was for nothing, and now all I felt was foolish. The one person I thought I could trust turned out to have ditched me like everyone else. It just took longer than normal.
Fool. I was such a damn fool.
“Millie,” he whispered and dared a step closer.
“Don’t,” I croaked. The unshed tears I held back clogged my throat. Wrapping my fingers around my neck, I worked to swallow down the tsunami of mixed emotions swirling inside me. Anger, shock, longing, more anger, and embarrassment all struggled for dominance, suffocating any sliver of happiness at finding my long-lost friend alive and well.
I couldn’t be happy, even if seeing him again was exactly what I have wanted since the morning I woke up groggy and alone. This moment was supposed to be filled with happy tears and radiating joy.
Not this… mess going on inside me.
And the way he was looking at me with uncertainty and desperation behind his eyes was too much. Shaking my head, I pressed both palms to the table and shoved back to stand on shaky legs. They might give out, but I couldn’t just sit there dying a little more inside with every passing second.
Marching to the door, I moved around him and reached for the handle.
“Millie, please,” Killian pleaded at my back. “Let me explain.”
I swallowed hard. Watery gaze locked on the dark wood door. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from spilling over. “What’s there to explain, Killian? You left me. We...” My voice cracked. “You don’t get my time. I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”
Obsessively worried about him daily, if I were honest with myself. All that concern, strangely enough, was what led me to study cults in the first place, which was why we were reunited now. I had assumed his overbearing father held him inside a cult, not living freely, looking too fucking hot to be human, inside the fucking FBI. “But I can see it wasn’t warranted. You’re clearly not in danger, and you’re living your best life.”
Fingers wrapped around the lever, I shoved it down and yanked the door open. Or tried to, at least. A massive palm slapped the center of the wood, keeping it closed. Strands of dark hair blew alongside my cheeks with every heavy exhale from the man holding me hostage. A shiver of desire raced down my spine as he stepped even closer, his chest almost brushing my back. Lust and arousal quickly overtook the roaring of anger. My sweaty grip tightened on the metal lever to keep from swaying closer to Killian’s radiating heat.
“You don’t understand.” His breath brushed along the back of my neck.
Goose bumps erupted, and I fought the urge to angle my head, giving him access to my throat, as my desperation to feel his lips on my skin grew almost unbearable.
“I don’t need to,” I said, swallowing thickly. “You obviously didn’t feel the need to explain yourself in the last ten fucking years. Ten years,” I whispered. “And you being here, inside the FBI, an agent… you could’ve found me, but you never did. Not a single word after… everything. You made it very clear, from the loud silence, that explaining your side wasn’t a priority.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Millie.”
“Stop it,” I barked. “Stop acting like you fucking care about me.” Whirling around, I sealed my back to the door to put as much distance between us as I could and glared up at him with narrowed eyes. “If you did, you would’ve left a note for me to find, or called in the last ten years. Hell, a fucking smoke signal would’ve been better than your damn silence.”
The corner of his lips twitched despite the torment written on his drawn features. “You can read smoke signals now?”
My hands curled at my side to keep from shoving him away.
Or pulling him closer.
Fuck, this was confusing.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on my words to convey how his actions, or lack thereof, made me feel so damn small.
“You didn’t have the decency to let me know you were okay ten years ago when my friend up and vanished, so I don’t understand why you feel the need to explain now. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Well, I would be after a bottle of wine, some cookie dough, and a shit ton of tears. “So, let’s just get on with the case so I can go back to my life, and you can keep doing whatever the hell you’ve been doing in yours.”
My chest heaved up and down after my rant, which apparently was hilarious because a smile split his face, chasing away all traces of his earlier distress.
“What?” I growled, tapping my fingers along my thigh, trying to calm my breathing.
“You’re cute when you’re mad at me. I forgot about that.”
Cute.
The man who forced a friendship on me, made me laugh until I cried, and treated me like I was a priceless piece of art that was treasured and protected, who was many of my firsts, including losing my virginity in a night that no other man could ever live up to, and then vanished, was calling my anger cute.
Oh, I’d show him fucking cute.
A pulse of relief flashed over his features when I forced a sweet smile to hide my violent intentions. He visibly shuddered, lids fluttered closed as my hand lightly grasped at his shoulder, not understanding the simple touch was for stability and to line up the perfect shot.
Time to put those two self-defense classes to the test.
The bastard never saw my knee coming, and the amount of joy that brought me was not healthy.
A pained grunt radiated around the room, triggering a genuine smile spreading across my face. Cooper’s beautiful eyes widened in agony as he stumbled backward, hands immediately grasping his crotch, like that could ease the pain radiating from his smashed balls. The utter shock on his face and painful wheezing erased a fraction of the anger rolling in my chest.
I hoped I broke his dick like he broke my heart.
“I’m not the same girl you left behind,” I said, smoothing a palm along my jacket and tugging at the sides, positioning it back into place. “Maybe you did me a favor by leaving.” A flash of something I couldn’t read flickered in his aqua eyes. “Teaching me not to trust anyone. It was a hard lesson to learn so fucking young, but here I am, stronger and not susceptible to assholes like you.”
Not waiting for a response, I whirled around and jerked the door open with a forceful tug. Rhyan and Agent Herrington stood up straight, the former eyeing me with apprehension. I strained an all-teeth smile, which only made Agent Herrington wince. Damn, I probably looked rabid. Releasing a slow breath, I relaxed my shoulders from around my ears and stepped back, gesturing to the conference room.
“We’re all good in here.” My fingers slipped from the cool metal as I moved toward the chair I vacated a few minutes earlier. Sitting down carefully, I adjusted my iPad and papers to give my nervous hands something to do as Rhyan and Herrington stepped into the room.
“Don’t mind him,” I muttered. “He’ll be fine.”
Rhyan’s alarmed gaze stayed on the hunched asshole who still struggled to get his breathing under control, while Agent Herrington covered a barked laugh with a fake cough before plopping down into the chair opposite me. Still not recovered, Killian waddled over to the chair at the very end of the table, the farthest from me, and collapsed into the seat.
“I’m going to assume he deserved that?” Rhyan asked, arching a brow in my direction.
“Yes,” I responded at the same time Killian snarled, “Fuck no.”
“Can we move on to discussing the case and plan, please?” I hissed, jaw clenched tight. “This case, investigating the organization, and helping Karigan is more important than the past.” I turned a pleading look to Rhyan. Analyzing the data and creating an action plan would be easier to process and work through than the confusing emotions still swirling inside me.
“Sure,” she drawled, seeming unsure but willing to move on. Back straight, she directed a pointed look at Killian and Herrington. “To catch you two up on the case details, the FBI received a call about an underage child suspected to be held captive by the organization known as The Union of Blessed Souls. After that call and reviewing the information provided, I reached out to Dr. Anderson for additional insight. She’s an expert in the field and a contracted consultant as needed by the FBI.”
I offered a small, awkward wave. Herrington leaned across the table, hand outstretched. “We met earlier but… Hunter Herrington,” he said with a wink.
“Millie Anderson.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” A low growl from the end of the table had Hunter releasing my hand and flopping back into his seat.
“Right, sorry. I forgot introductions earlier. Sorry about that.” Rhyan blew a raspberry. I couldn’t help but grin. “Regarding the case, we’re kneecapped because the victim’s parents’ will listed her guardian as the leader of the cult, Gary Paul, also known as Pastor Paul. On top of this, it was brought to my attention that there are other suspicious deaths outside of the victim’s parents. The entire town seems to be wrapped up in the organization.”
“How do you know that?” Agent Herrington mused while flipping through the file Rhyan had placed in the middle of the table, brows furrowed. “There is nothing mentioned about the connected murders or the shady town.”
“That information came from me because I witnessed it firsthand.” I felt the impact of Cooper’s hard gaze when it snapped to me, but I refused to back down beneath the weight. “Last fall, I visited the town where they are based to see if I could find any additional information.” And possibly locate my former best friend, who I thought was trapped in the cult after being brainwashed by his father. I cleared my throat to keep from saying those foolish words out loud before continuing. “What I found was the police, the medical examiner, even the public officials are all connected to The Union of Blessed Souls. Whether that’s by being an actual follower or taking bribes. This group is extremely dangerous and has ways to cover up the murders I suspect they orchestrated?—”
“You went down there alone?” Killian hissed, his anger almost palpable from where he glared from his seat. “What the fuck were you thinking? You just told us they’re extremely dangerous, so you just went down there on a fucking vacation?”
I leveled Killian with a flat look, not letting him see what his anger did to me.
Actually, I didn’t even know what the fuck his anger did to me. Part of me wanted to soak in the fact that he was worried about me, while the other part was pissed that he assumed he had a right to care.
Maybe I needed therapy.
“As you experienced firsthand, I can take care of myself.”
“And that point goes to Millie,” Agent Herrington whispered as his curious gaze flicked between me and Killian. “What happened between you two?”
My lips parted, but nothing came out. How did I explain in a single sentence the complexity of everything that was me and Killian? Thankfully, Rhyan spoke up, keeping me from having to answer.
“We need someone on the inside to investigate and see if the caller’s niece is truly in danger. If we uncover details about the other suspicions, then that will be a bonus. She’s our priority.” Leaning back in her chair, she leveled all her attention at me. “You mentioned having a suggestion on getting an agent inside to assess the situation quickly and without being noticed.”
My pulse kicked up, and sweat slicked my palms. Tucking both hands beneath the table, my fingers drummed along my thigh as I gathered up the courage to suggest the crazy plan. No, not crazy. It was the only option if we wanted this done before any more damage happened to innocent people and, of course, Karigan.
“Marriage counseling.” Three sets of eyes blinked at me before eyeballing each other. “Hear me out. It makes the most sense. One way they draw in new followers is through their marriage classes and seminars. They offer them online year-round, taught by their so-called teachers but also on-site for two weeks once a quarter. This allows them to not only begin the mind games but also assess the more affluent and powerful couples to invite into the inner circle.”
Hunter kept his hazel eyes locked on me as he leaned back in the chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “So, you’re suggesting to send in two undercover agents to this marriage class bullshit, and then what?”
“Watch your damn tone,” Cooper snapped.
I eyed him with confusion before turning back to Hunter, who couldn’t hold back a knowing smirk.
“Yes, but not two agents,” I drawled. “I’m suggesting one agent and, well, me.” My focus swung from Hunter to Rhyan to assess her reaction to that tiny detail.
“Absolutely not,” Killian barked, slamming a fist on the table. We all reached for the pens before they could roll off the table from the vibrations.
“Not sure we can do that,” Rhyan offered, but her tone suggested she might actually consider it as an option.
“I’ll play husband with you any day, Millie,” Hunter said while using his fingers to make a heart sign.
A giggle escaped at his antic, which was clearly meant to annoy the other man in the room. That apparently was the last straw. Killian jumped from his chair, which flew backward, slamming against the wall, leaving an indentation in the drywall before lunging toward Hunter. He cursed and jerked out of Killian’s reach just before his grabbing hands found purchase.
Both palms slapped to the table, I used the leverage to stand. The two idiots froze and turned to me.
“I understand I’m not an agent, but this is our best option.” I turned to Rhyan. At least she hadn’t shot down the idea yet. “I’m the one with the most knowledge of the group. I know the ins and outs after months of detailed research. Plus my background, training, and education. I teach a class on forensic psychology, for fuck’s sake,” I said, tossing both hands up. “I can meet with Karigan—who, bonus, knows she can trust me because of that brief encounter last year—talk to her, and assess where we stand. If she’s happy there, truly happy and not brainwashed happy, I’ll know. With the short timeframe we have to sign up for the on-site marriage classes, which start on Monday, sending me and a male agent to Georgia is our best option.”
Rhyan’s lips pursed in a tight line as she stared me down, almost as if sizing me up to see if I was up to the challenge.
“There’s the legal aspect of all this?—”
“You can’t be seriously fucking considering this, boss,” Killian snapped.
Her hard gaze slid to Killian. “Watch. Your. Tone.” To my surprise, Killian deflated at that and dropped back into his seat. “I’m considering all options.” She swiveled her seat to face me directly. “You’re not an agent.”
“But I am a consultant for the FBI. In my agreement, there is a line about possible on-site assessment when necessary. I consider this necessary. Who knows what kind of mental manipulations this poor girl goes through daily? We’re already failing her since she’s been on her own with these bastards since her parents were murdered. I don’t give a fuck about my safety?—”
“That’s obvious,” Killian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, but I ignored him.
“She’s what’s important. Finding justice for those families whose lives were cut short because of the group’s greed could be a bonus. My personal reason for investigating this group is no longer valid.” Without my consent, my gaze flicked to Killian. “My only focus will be assessing the victim’s mental state, helping the agent uncover anything they can find on the suspicious deaths, and then getting out.”
Rhyan stayed silent while I pleaded my case. “Send me the consulting agreement you signed with us?—”
“Boss,” Killian said, the word snapping through the room. “Please. Please, don’t do this. Not…” He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob. “Not her.”
The anger that had dimmed roared back to life as I turned to face him. “You don’t think I can do this?”
“It’s not that?—”
“You know nothing about me,” I hissed. “Nothing. I’m not that pathetic girl you befriended?—”
“You were never pathetic,” he muttered.
“This is our best option. Once you get your head out of your ass, then you’ll see I’m right.”
Leaning back in the chair, he folded both arms over his chest. “No, I won’t, because it’s not happening.”
“I need to think,” Rhyan mused. I twisted back her way, hope blooming in my chest. “We have you booked at a hotel downtown since I wasn’t sure how long this would take today and would possibly need some time tomorrow. Why don’t you go check in and relax, and after I think through all our options, I’ll be in touch.”
It wasn’t the firm yes I hoped for, but it wasn’t a no either.
Nodding in agreement, I picked up my things off the table before grabbing both bags and heading for the door. A soft grip on the edge of my suit jacket sleeve pulled me up short. Looking over my shoulder, I met a pair of steely aqua eyes.
“We’re not done with the earlier conversation,” he stated, conviction in his tone.
I offered him a slight headshake and ripped out of his hold.
“Yes, we are.” Emotions threatened to clog my throat. “Goodbye, Killian.”
With those painful words haunting my every step, I hurried out the door before the tears I held at bay fell from the pain swelling in my chest. Out of all the scenarios I imagined over the years of what it would be like when I saw Killian again, what just happened in that room was never one of them.