Twisted (33 page)

“Next game, then.” Roland looked directly at Allison. “I’ll be back.”

She watched them head over to the pool tables, dimly aware of the attention they were attracting from other women.

Kelsey sighed wistfully. “That’s one way to drown your sorrows.”

Allison looked at her.

“He’s hot.”

“I’m aware.”

“But?” Kelsey took a sip of her beer.

“But I know myself.” She watched Roland chalk his cue. He really looked good. And he
was
good. But somehow the prospect of mindless sex—even with someone she considered a friend—just didn’t appeal to her. She’d wake up feeling miserable. And guilty. The guilt part made absolutely no sense because she’d made no commitment to Mark and he’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t committed to her.

Her stomach knotted. What had she expected from a single night together? She shouldn’t have expected anything, but she’d allowed herself to read too much into it. She’d thought there was something there.

Because there
was
something—it was just something uneven. From the moment she met him, Mark Wolfe had had an impact on her life. First, he’d saved it. Then he’d followed that up by helping her become a better investigator. He’d given her more confidence in her abilities. And then to top it off, he’d given her the most intense sexual experience of her life. She’d tried to give him something in return. She’d tried to take him away from the stress and death and ugliness
that surrounded him and make him feel something special.

To her it
had
been special. To him it had been insignificant.

How had she allowed this to happen? How had she left herself open to a man when she knew—she
knew
—there was absolutely no future in it? Mark was married to his job. And even if she’d been willing to be his mistress, he lived fifteen hundred miles away. Even for a closet optimist such as herself, it was too daunting a prospect.

And that assumed he even wanted to try.

“You know yourself and . . . ?”

She looked at Kelsey. She was still focused on Roland.

“And it wouldn’t help.”

Kelsey followed Allison’s gaze across the bar. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Relationships suck.” She gave Allison a meaningful look. “Especially long-distance ones.”

“Oh, no.” Allison’s mood deflated even more. “Mia was right. What happened with you and Gage?”

Kelsey twisted her bottle on the bar. “I screwed up.”

“You mean . . . ?”

“I didn’t cheat on him or anything.” She glanced up. “I just . . . I did something desperate. Something I never should have done. I ruined everything, and he broke up with me.”

She stared down at her beer bottle as Allison watched. Once again, Allison felt guilty for being self-centered. She’d been so immersed in her own world lately, she hadn’t done a thing for anybody else.

“This happened—” Damn, when had Kelsey flown out to California to visit him? “Four weekends ago?”

“Last month.” Kelsey nodded. “I went to see him on his last leave.”

Allison waited.

Finally, Kelsey looked up. “To be honest, this whole last year has been miserable.”

“I had no idea.” Allison said. “I thought you guys were in love.”

“We were. We are. Were, I guess.
Shit.
” Kelsey swiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath as though to steel herself.

“What happened?”

“It’s just . . . I’ve been going out of my mind with worry. You can’t imagine what it’s like.” She shook her head. “When he’s in combat, every time I turn on the news, or get on the Internet, or see a newspaper headline, my heart clenches. I have nightmares all the time. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. Every day I’m having visions of him getting shot or blown up or, God,
tortured.
”

“So . . . you broke it off?”

“No.” Kelsey took a deep breath. “I gave him an ultimatum.”

Allison gaped at her. “You gave an ultimatum . . . to a Navy SEAL?”

Kelsey smiled weakly. “Great plan, huh? I told him it was the job or me.”

Allison tried not to cringe. She tried to imagine Mark’s reaction if she suggested he choose between her and the FBI. It was unimaginable. She couldn’t even picture it in her head.

“Turns out, not such a good tactic,” Kelsey said. “We had this huge fight. He picked the SEALs.”

“Ouch.” Allison put her hand over Kelsey’s and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too. But I was desperate. We’d been having issues for a while. We’d both done some hurtful things.” She shook her head, obviously not interested in elaborating. “Anyway, I made a last-ditch effort to save it and ended up killing it instead.” She turned to look at Allison, and the tears were gone now. She looked stoic. “So take it from me. I know tonight’s tough and everything, but I just came from the Land of Long-Distance Relationships and it sucks. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“Allison, you’re up, babe.”

A hand settled on her shoulder and she turned to see Roland standing behind her with that look she knew well. The pad of his thumb felt warm against her neck.

“Who won?” she asked, stalling for time. She knew how this would turn out if she joined their game.

“Who do you think?” He smiled. “Come on, A. I’ll even let you break.”

Mark pulled into the parking lot of the bar and found a space in the same row as Allison’s pickup. For a moment, he sat there, trying to figure out what he was doing here. It wasn’t smart. It was selfish and showed incredibly poor judgment. But showing poor judgment was his new MO. So much for the psychology degree and the law degree and the decades’ worth of experience dealing with impulsive, selfish people who hurt everyone in their path. Now it was his turn. Mark’s new purpose in life was to take the one truly good person he’d met in years—someone who actually seemed to like him and
respect him and, strangest of all, enjoy his company—and show her his true colors.

The parking lot was crowded. Music and laughter could be heard, even from outside. Mark braced himself for a crowd he had no interest in seeing as he pulled open the heavy wooden door.

He stepped out of the damp, chilly night and into the overheated room. It took him almost no time to spot Allison perched on a stool beside her friend the anthropologist. She was with some cop friends, too, but it wasn’t the cops who captured Mark’s attention. It was the tall, dark-haired gym rat who had his hand on Allison’s neck and was whispering in her ear.

Mine,
he thought.

The word surprised him. And yet it sat there, burning a hole in his brain, as Allison tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled up at the guy.

Mark eased away from the door and out of the traffic pattern. He stayed on the periphery of the room as he took in the scene. It was a blue-collar crowd, as it had been before. Lots of cops and firefighters and guys who wore coveralls and Levi’s to work. It was the kind of place where Mark’s father would have been at home, and Mark stood out in his dark suit. He ignored the looks. He focused instead on Allison and the way she looked in her jeans and boots, with that cascade of dark hair.

When she’d first come on to him, he’d told her she wasn’t his type, but that was a lie. She was young and aggressive and opinionated. She wasn’t afraid to challenge him or tell him to go to hell. She was
exactly
his type, and it scared the shit out of him.

The man’s hand curved around her shoulder, and Mark made his move.

“Well, hey.” Kelsey nudged Allison. “Look who’s here.”

She glanced up and her smile vanished. “Hi.” She blinked at him. “I thought you had a plane to catch.”

“Change of plan.”

Mark’s gaze shifted to the man beside her, who was eyeing him with blatant resentment.

“Mark Wolfe,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“Roland Delgado.” They shook, and Mark managed not to flinch as the kid tried to break about twelve of his fingers.

So this was Roland, who’d run evidence for Allison as a favor. Mark glanced at his feet. He wore brown leather work boots—probably twelves—remarkably like the ones in the back of Allison’s truck. He had one hand on Allison’s shoulder now and the other around a beer.

Mark turned to Allison. “May I talk to you, please?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Alone.”

She slid off the stool and smiled at her friends. “Excuse me.”

Mark took her hand and led her to a hallway in back, where several women stood in line waiting to use a restroom. He squeezed past them and pulled her into an alcove stacked with kegs. It smelled like spilled beer, and Spanish radio drifted in from the kitchen.

Mark positioned his back to the wall so he could see people passing.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

He looked down at her, and the concern on her face made him feel guilty. But not nearly as guilty as he was going to feel tomorrow morning.

“I’m not a martyr,” he said.

She stared up at him, confused.

“I’m not a robot either.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I admit I’ve got some shit to deal with. Everyone does. But I’m not some . . . ticking time bomb. I’m not the guy who goes to work one day and shoots up the place.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you seriously telling me this?”

“Yes.”

“Mark . . . I
know
that.” She looked around and seemed to realize they were standing in what was pretty much a beer closet. Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. “Don’t you have a meeting with the director of the FBI in, like, ten hours?”

“I moved it.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to leave on bad terms with you.” In truth, he didn’t want to leave at all. He was merely postponing the inevitable here, but for once he was being completely selfish and completely irresponsible and totally disregarding the long-term hurt he might cause to a woman he’d come to care about.

She gazed up at him, and the surprise seemed to be fading. There was something else in her eyes now, and it looked a lot like hope.

“Are you really going home with that guy?” Mark asked.

“Who? You mean Roland?”

“Boots back there. Your ex.”

She didn’t say anything. Mark felt a punch of jealousy so strong he could hardly breathe.

“Please don’t.” He slid his hands over her shoulders and gazed down at her, almost ready to beg.

She didn’t respond, and for an agonizing moment he heard only the noise of the bar. Maybe she was going to show him up by doing the logical thing here—which would be to stop whatever this was right now by telling him to mind his own business.

Instead, she went up on tiptoes and kissed him—only it wasn’t just a kiss. She pulled his head down to hers and licked her tongue into his mouth and pressed her body full against him. He slid his arms around her and kissed her like he’d been wanting to for days, like he’d been starving. Because he had been. Every time he’d looked at her, talked to her, been in the same room with her, he’d wanted to drag her against him and kiss the hell out of her—like he was doing right now. She rocked her hips, and he pulled her back with him against the wall as she licked her warm, sweet woman taste into his mouth.

Finally, he pulled away and she blinked up at him, dazed and breathless.

“Let
me
take you home.”

“Umm.” She kissed him again. Then she slid her hands around his neck and whispered, “Your motel’s closer.”

By the time they made it into his room, Allison had managed to wrestle him out of his damp suit jacket. As the door swished shut on the rain outside, he was lifting the shirt over her head and freeing it from her arms.

She backed him up against the wall and pulled his head down for a kiss. His skin was damp. Hers was, too. It was chilly in the drafty motel room, but Mark was quickly warming her with his hands.

Allison’s heart pounded, and it wasn’t just because they’d practically sprinted from the car to the door. It was because she was here, with him, in his motel room when he should have been on an airplane. It felt so good to have him touch her and kiss her and let his guard down again, after struggling to pretend there was nothing between them. Allison
knew
she hadn’t imagined it. She knew she hadn’t dreamed up this need he seemed to have for her, when he probably could have had his pick of women back at Quantico or anywhere else. He was here with
her,
and she knew that tomorrow he’d be gone, but right now he was here, kissing her, making her body tremble with anticipation as they clung together in this
dingy little room, dark except for the streetlights seeping through the flimsy curtains. His face was cast in shadows, but still she could see his desire. She could feel it. His powerful arms wrapped around her and his hands slid through her hair and over her shoulders. They slipped around her back and reached for her bra.

“Front.”

He mumbled something against her mouth. She pulled away and looked up at him.