Chapter 17 #3
“No. He has no idea who Aimee is, or the man he was.” Thomas rested his head in his hand, his elbow planted on the chair’s arm.
Aimee was going to be devastated. To find him and not have him remember her? Nadia sent out all the good vibes that Ian would be there to catch her when she fell. Because Aimee would fall.
“Worried she’ll find out about you?” Thomas quietly asked.
Her gaze swerved to his face. She stared down at him with cold, threatening eyes. “Only way she does is if you tell her.” Or she did. But yes, she was worried. She’d been fretting about it since the beginning. “You better not dare.” She shook a finger at him.
He grasped her hand. “Sit down.” She resisted. “Your legs look phenomenal in those shoes but looking up at you hurts my neck. Please, sit down,” he implored in a tone soaked in exhaustion.
Heat flashed up her neck before she could stop it. Of all the moments for him to notice her legs he chose now.
Nadia wanted to be furious with him, but her features pulled in tight with worry.
She settled in the chair beside him if only not to ask him if he’d been eating and getting enough sleep.
Or if anyone had been taking care of him.
Because he obviously had been neglecting himself.
At only thirty-four, his hair was graying and his eyes were sunken.
He didn’t wear his clothes. The dark gray pressed pants and button-down dress shirt hung on him.
Thomas tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re tired.”
“Exhausted.” He kept his eyes closed. “Why’d you let her go?”
Ian. He’d convinced her. But he hadn’t been the only reason.
“We’ve been trapped, Aimee and me. Hers a cage of grief. Mine, guilt.”
Thomas lifted a brow, urging her to explain.
“Whether or not Aimee found him, she needed closure. All our efforts to get her to move forward were pointless if she didn’t have that. This trip was supposed to have given her that.”
“And when the Hidalgos find out James is still alive and they kill Aimee for retribution? James survived and the very agencies that took their leaders into custody hid him right under their noses, making them look incompetent and stupid. You don’t think they’ll want revenge?”
“I’d like to think James is insignificant enough that they don’t care. Or that they’ve forgotten about him.”
Thomas stared hard at her. “I thought Aimee was the naive one.” He leaned forward, bringing them closer, and his voice frosted over.
“There is a very real probability James possesses damning evidence that could sway a jury in Ruiz’s trial.
Guarantee that man’s life imprisonment without parole.
Mexico’s attorney general’s office is banking on that.
It’s the only reason they’ve kept him in their witness protection program and haven’t deported him.
You might as well have signed his death certificate by exposing him. ”
Terror was dry ice burning inside Nadia, threatening to crack her open. Her chest trembled as she took an unsteady breath. She wouldn’t shoulder the blame for this.
“James has no memory. What he doesn’t know can’t be used against him.”
“They don’t know that. Pray he stays that way for all our sakes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed in Mexico.” Thomas pushed up from the chair. “I’m becoming quite adept at damage control.”
“I’m going to tell Aimee,” she announced before he reached the door. Before she realized what she was saying. “That I knew.”
Thomas stopped. “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”
“She deserves to know the truth, regardless of the consequences. I think she’ll forgive me, eventually. But I need to tell her.”
He slowly turned back and came over to her.
His hands tenderly cradled her face, at complete odds with his brittle abruptness but a moment ago.
She watched with fascination as the storm that had been behind his eyes cleared.
There was so much longing in his expression, such deep adoration as he looked upon her, all mixed up with his regret on her behalf.
But that wouldn’t make sense. He didn’t think of her in any regard but as a younger sister.
Someone he felt he needed to look out for.
He leaned his forehead against hers and his thumb caressed her cheek with trembling reverence.
“Sometimes,” he said barely above a whisper, “the truth is more damaging than the lie.” Then he kissed her, a soft, lingering touch of their lips that suspended time before his head snapped back and eyes darted to the side.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This was a mistake,” he muttered, refusing to look at her.
Then he left.
Nadia stared at the door, her fingers pressing to her mouth, to lips still warm from… A mistake.
Asshole.
Smoothing her skirt, she returned to her desk on legs that had no business being as unsteady as they were, hating him even more.
He didn’t just leave. He’d left her knowing exactly what his lips felt like on hers. What they tasted like.
And she’d never be able to unknow it.