Chapter Eleven
Roxana didn’t say a word and pulled back. Jason would answer her questions and let Roxana take all the time she needed until she saw that he was still the man she’d fallen in love with—only with a different job.
She didn’t say anything. Jason waited. Hell, if he’d known the accountant job title held such significance. He’d have bet his life that Roxana purely appreciated that his work was safe and stable. “If it helps, I am a registered CPA.”
Roxana’s hand slapped his face before he realized his accounting prowess didn’t matter. The sting was worse than any hit he’d taken over the years. Jason waited in case she wanted to take another swing. He probably deserved it. When she didn’t, he worked his jaw and ran his hand over her cheek.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t care.”
Okay, hindsight, he could see how he’d missed her point.
He needed to regroup. Roxana could handle anything.
He’d always known that even when she hadn’t.
She’d proven her strength time and time again.
But even after hours of drive time to think of what to say, he still wasn’t sure how to explain his job—or at least, how to explain it without mentioning the time that she was the job. That wasn’t his secret to share.
Jason stepped back and inspected the hiding location she’d chosen. “Good spot.”
“Why are you limping?” she asked.
The truth was the only answer. Just like it should’ve been over the years.
Instead, he had chosen the easy way out and gave Roxana answers that GSI had built into cover stories.
He had blamed a filing cabinet that time a bullet grazed his bicep and mentioned a faulty hair dryer after a run-in with a fire-shooting drone.
At the time, he’d regretted every white lie told to cover up an injury.
Tonight, he saw the white lies for what they were.
Crutches. He was terrified of losing the best thing in his life.
“I fell down a hill and wedged it between rocks.”
Sympathy parted Roxana’s lips for a split second before she hardened. “You weren’t in Oklahoma.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Southeast Kentucky.”
“Why?”
“I quit my job this morning and set off this chain of events.”
“Yeah, well. Someone pointed a gun at me.”
Of all the plans and precautions Jason had taken over the years, Spiker and Vanka holding Roxana at gunpoint had never crossed his mind. “Entirely my fault.”
“It’s all connected?”
He nodded. “Hindsight’s kicking my ass right now.
There’s a lot I should’ve done differently.
” But even if he had done everything right, he couldn’t have accounted for Buck Baer’s paranoia.
Jason still had to untangle those problems, but those seemed easier to fix than his relationship. “Let’s get in my truck.”
Roxana didn’t budge.
“And food, babe. You hungry?”
The way her eyes brightened at the possibility of a meal was a telltale sign she was ravenous, but she held her chin high. “I’m more pissed than hungry.”
They couldn’t stay in the park all night. He went in for the kill. “What about a hot shower while we wait for delivery?”
“Last time I checked, there were two psychos in my house with a gun, or have you cleared the other operatives out for the night?”
Jason tried not to grin.
“That wasn’t meant to be funny.”
“I know.” He couldn’t help it. “I’m tired. Slap happy and hungry.”
“There was a gun, Jason. I feel like this isn’t registering.”
He hobbled closer and wrapped her close to his chest. “It registered, babe, and things will change.”
Roxana leaned back and scowled. “I don’t know much more than I did before you arrived. I’m not even sure if I believe anything you say.”
That was fair. He nodded, then added, “There are far more guns in your house than the one you saw.”
Roxana scowled. “Of course there are—when did you pick up cross-stitching?”
He picked up her go-bag and eased them toward his truck. “Ever heard of a website called Etsy?”
“You can’t be serious?” She stumbled in the grass.
Jason caught her arm. “You can get custom-made anything from Etsy.”
“Any covert doilies I don’t know about?” Roxana swayed as she walked and pressed a hand to her temple.
“Maybe.” He stayed close to her side. Roxana put on a good show, but she was weaker than he realized. “You feeling okay?”
She shrugged, and they slowly made their way down the hill. He wasn’t sure what her silence meant. Hungry. Tired. Angry. His bet was D—all of the above.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she eyed his truck.
“We’ll grab a hotel room and figure out what our game plan is.”
Roxana stopped a stone’s throw short of the passenger door.
Jason’s ankle throbbed, and even while admitting that everything that had gone wrong was all his fault, his patience was thinning. “What?”
“There is no our game plan. Not for me.”
“We have to—”
“The only thing,” she said, “I plan to do is wash every part of my body and eat until I pass out.” Her eyebrows tightened. “Alone.”
His molars grated. “Didn’t suggest otherwise.”
“You don’t have to. Remember? I don’t know you.” She gestured wildly. “Look at where we are. At what happened today. I don’t know what you’re thinking—”
Jason grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.”
“You lied, and I’m not over that.”
“Didn’t ask you to be over it, Roxana.”
She slapped his hand. “No, you haven’t said anything other than rehearsed dodgeballs. I don’t know what you think or feel or—”
“Damn it, Roxana. I fucked up. I get it. All right? I don’t know what to say or how to say it.
My drunk boss tried to shoot me. My ankle’s the size of a cannonball.
And the woman I want to marry might hate my guts.
” Jason stopped and held his breath until he was sure he could control what came out of his mouth.
He’d never shouted at Roxana before and wouldn’t do it again.
“Sorry.” The tendons in his jaw strained. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“You told me what you really thought. Who cares how loud you are?”
Jason licked his bottom lip and shook his head.
“What?”
“I always tell you what I think. Even when I didn’t tell you something that happened, I made sure you knew what was important. All right?”
Roxana nodded, uncharacteristically quiet.
“It’s been a shit day.” Jason tilted his head toward the truck. “Will you get in?”
He wasn’t sure which part of his tirade made Roxana walk toward the passenger door, but as cicadas sang, they walked together and stopped at her door. He opened it. Roxana quietly thanked him. He shut her in as the cicadas’ buzzing, clicking song reached the peak of its crescendo.
Jason rounded the front of his truck with more of a limp than he’d have liked.
Pain radiated when he climbed into the driver’s seat.
He cleared his throat and turned the engine over.
The headlights illuminated the park where Roxana had taken cover.
He’d never set foot on their trails again without remembering what she’d been through today. “You did a hell of a job today.”
Roxana rubbed the top of her head. “I hit my head.”
“I’ll get an ice pack with dinner.” The truck rolled along the one-way road out of the park.
Jason pulled onto a street, then hooked a right-hand turn from the protective enclave of a beautiful neighborhood onto a main drag of bars with neon signs and bustling sidewalks.
Unfamiliar with their quiet, he tried for small talk. “Busy for a Monday night.”
Roxana kept mum with her gaze on the changing landscape along the sidewalk. “How’s your ankle?”
He shrugged. “Fine.”
“Didn’t sound fine when you climbed in.”
“Guess the ibuprofen’s wearing off.” The Uber driver in front of them rode their brakes, then stopped traffic to load a group of drunk passengers. Jason drummed the steering wheel, patience dwindling as the group struggled to get into their vehicle.
Roxana glanced over. “How did you know about the tunnel?”
He stopped drumming. Jason didn’t want to be stuck in traffic for this conversation.
“Well?” she pushed.
“Hagan.”
She smacked her lips together. “Wow. I didn’t realize how often you two must chat.”
“We talk.” He maneuvered around the Uber. “Business and things.”
Roxana repositioned to face him. “Hagan called me this morning.”
“Yup. Me too.” Jason kept his eyes glued to the windshield.
“He’s known all along about you?”
Jason wasn’t sure if her question was more angry or distrustful, not that it would make a difference for how he responded. He eased off the gas as a group of girls teetered across the street in shoes that made them walk like baby gazelles. “Yeah.”
“What else does he know about your secret life that I don’t?”
“Babe, it’s not a secret—”
Roxana slammed her fist against the door. “What the hell does Hagan know?”
“Can we have this conversation at the hotel?”
“More bad news? Fantastic.”
“I don’t have bad news.”
She snorted.
“But…” His grip flexed on the steering wheel. “You won’t like it.”
“That fits with today’s theme,” she added. “And I’d rather know now.”
Where she could jump out of his truck and never look back. Jason didn’t take his eyes off the traffic.
“So help me God,” Roxana whispered. “If you don’t start talking—”
“Gimme a second to think of the best way to—”
She scoffed. “Massage the truth? No.”
Jason checked his mirrors and glanced at her waiting expression. “A few years ago, Hagan had some concerns.”
“What kind of concerns?” she asked.
“Safety.” He glanced over again and hated the apprehensive lines that tightened around her eyes.
“Whose safety?”
“Yours,” he admitted, wishing there were an easy way to bring up awful memories on an already shitty day. “No one knew much about the organization responsible for Dylan’s death.”
“They do now,” she whispered as if the conversation had thrown her straight into the past.
He made a left-hand turn toward downtown but pulled over at the first spot available. No matter how mad she was, he wouldn’t let their problem interfere with giving her the support she’d need. “But not leading up to the trial.”