Chapter Twenty-One #2
Vanessa stormed into the neighboring cabin, her pulse pounding with trepidation. Paul was inside with a duffel bag at his feet. He had a lockbox in his hands. While she watched, incredulously, he shoved the box into the bag.
“Is that your service weapon?” she asked.
He zipped up the bag and rose to a standing position.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“How’s Emily?” he asked.
“She’s fine. You’re about to die, though.”
His mouth formed a sardonic twist. But when his gaze met hers, it was steady. “What do you want to know?”
“Let me see,” she said, counting on her fingers. “Your real name, your actual profession, and your reason for being here?”
“My real name is Paul.”
“It’s not Paul Murphy.”
He didn’t dispute this fact.
“Why would you lie about that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you married?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “No, I’m not married.”
“Are you a cop?”
His terse shrug wasn’t quite an acknowledgment, but it confirmed what she already knew.
“How did you get shot?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to fly at him, to slap his hard face. “You mean you won’t talk about it, because it’s too disturbing? Or you can’t talk about it because there’s an open investigation?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed as he considered his response. In the end, he said nothing. He wasn’t going to give her a single crumb of information.
Bastard.
“Did you kill someone?” she asked.
His eyes cruised over her and veered away.
Vanessa attempted to piece together a story based on their previous interactions and her understanding of law enforcement.
“So you got shot on duty, and you returned fire. A guy died, which is upsetting, even if he deserved it. You came here to recover in peace. That doesn’t explain the need for an alias.
Was there a public scandal? Did a stray bullet hit an innocent bystander?
” When he didn’t answer, she tapped her fingertips on her arms. She hadn’t seen any negative press about Paul McPherson.
It was almost as if his personal details had been erased. “Are you working undercover?”
He scowled at the question.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Would you tell me if it was?”
“No.”
“Why are you using an alias?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
She froze in her tracks as another idea occurred to her. “Who did you kill?”
His gaze cut into her. “That’s enough.”
Vanessa ignored his attempt to silence her. She was getting closer to the truth. “It must have been someone important.”
He walked to the window and glanced out.
“You’re not on edge because of the trauma,” she said. “You’re on edge because you’re in danger. You’re in hiding.” She studied his profile, stunned by the realization. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Maybe you don’t understand the concept of a cover story,” he said in a low growl. “If you tell someone, it’s broken.”
“Maybe you don’t understand the concept of ethical behavior,” she shot back. “When you assume a fake identity, you keep to yourself. You don’t start screwing a single mom and making nice with her kid!”
“I didn’t twist your arm,” he said coldly.
“Oh, fuck you,” she said. “You could have gone somewhere else. You didn’t have to endanger us by staying here.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
His stiff apology did nothing to assuage her anger. It only made her more furious. “I never want to see you again.”
He gave a curt nod of agreement.
“You have to leave,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll go, but I’d feel better if you went to your father’s.”
“I don’t give a damn about making you feel better.”
“It’s safer for you and Emily.”
“Now you care about our safety?”
“I always cared about it.”
“Bullshit,” she said with vehemence. “I thought I had to worry about Bennett, and the thugs he owes money to, but the whole time I needed protection from you.”
“Mommy?”
Vanessa whirled around to see Emily standing in the doorway. She had Penelope tucked under one arm. Of course Emily hadn’t followed her orders to stay put. The little girl had heard them arguing.
“Why are you mad?” Emily asked.
Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it.
She couldn’t tell Emily about Paul’s secret identity.
She couldn’t pretend nothing was wrong, either.
To her chagrin, tears pricked at her eyes again.
Paul watched her with a neutral expression.
She put her hand on Emily’s shoulder and led her back to their cabin.
“Did Mr. Paul call you a bad name?”
“No.”
“Did you call him a bad name?”
Vanessa wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced a smile. “Guess what? We’re going to your grandpa’s house for a sleepover.”
Emily brightened. “We are? Yay!”
Vanessa went through the motions of packing an overnight bag, but she barely noticed what she tossed into it. She kept replaying the awful exchange with Paul. The heartsick feeling it gave her reminded her of the afternoon she’d caught Bennett cheating.
Paul’s betrayal shouldn’t have felt as sharp, or painful, or all-consuming. She’d known him less than two weeks. She’d been married to Bennett for almost five years. She’d exchanged vows with Bennett, and promised to love him forever.
This affair with Paul was supposed to be a meaningless summer fling, not a lasting romance. Even so, she felt blindsided by his deception. She’d trusted him to be honest with her, and he hadn’t even told her his real name.
She made sure Emily had Penelope before they left. She wasn’t coming back here tonight to search for that freaking doll.
Vanessa noted that Paul had removed the lemonade sign from the front porch and dismantled the stand.
The parts were leaning against the side of the cabin, ready to be reused.
She hated his thoughtfulness and his goddamned industrious spirit.
She tossed her bag inside the car, secured Emily in her car seat, and climbed behind the wheel.
Although she doubted Paul was watching, she didn’t look back as she drove away.
She didn’t want him to know how much she cared.