Page 9

8

JOANNA

I stayed at Hallie’s place for two nights before I capitulated and called West. I was curled on the sofa, my feet beneath me and the phone pressed to my ear. Hallie stayed close for moral support.

“Joanna. Thank God,” he said when he answered.

I told myself it wasn’t relief in his voice. He didn’t actually care about me, right?

“How are you?” he asked.

I didn’t dignify that with a response. Surely, he knew I wasn’t doing well. It would be ridiculous of him to think otherwise.

“We should meet,” I told him, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my free arm around them. “There are things we need to discuss.”

“Yes, of course.” He sounded eager. Way too eager. But then, I supposed his entire operation might hinge on what I did or said next. “Just say when.”

I hesitated, reluctant to concede anything, but Hallie and I had already agreed that having the necessary conversation at our apartment would probably be the safest option, since I had no doubt he’d made sure it was clean of listening devices.

“How about at the apartment after your shift ends?” I’d rather see him somewhere neutral, where we didn’t share so many memories, but privacy mattered more than my own desires at this point.

“Perfect. I should be home a little after midnight. I…” He paused. “I look forward to seeing you.”

I ended the call and glared at the screen, internally torn between cursing him out and melting a little. Why did he have to sound so sincere? He was an excellent actor.

I turned to Hallie. “It’s done.”

“Good job, Jo. You were so strong.”

I sighed. “I don’t feel it. It’s going to be so difficult being alone in the place where we’ve lived together. We had so many good times. How am I supposed to remember they’re all fake?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe not all of them were fake. Could he have meant it when he said he had real feelings for you?”

I rested my head against the sofa cushion. “I don’t see how. You don’t lie to and manipulate the people you love.”

“He could have been backed into a corner,” she offered.

I shook my head. “I can’t allow myself to consider any shades of gray. If I do, I’ll start hoping, and that’s a surefire way to get hurt.”

Hallie nodded as if she understood. Really, I doubted most people could, but I appreciated the effort.

“You do what you need to,” she said.

I huffed. “What I need to do is pack my bag.”

She winced. “Just remember that you’re always welcome here. If you go back and it hurts too much, then my spare bed is waiting for you whenever you want.”

I forced a smile. “Thanks, Hallie. ”

“We’re friends. Friends take care of each other. Especially when they’re in male-dominated careers, surrounded by stupid men all day, every day.” She pursed her lips. “Not that I’m bitter or anything. It’s just easy to get frustrated sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know.” There were days when I’d love to see how Hanson would deal with the crap I’ve had to put up with.

I went to the spare bedroom, packed my belongings into my duffel bag, and carried it out to the living area.

“Got everything you need?” Hallie asked.

“Except for a hug.”

She laughed. “We can’t have that.”

She gave me a quick hug and I squeezed her back tightly, absorbing all the strength that I could from the embrace. When we separated, she touched my arm.

“Don’t forget: you can come straight back if you want to.”

“I know.”

I left and drove home, the vehicle crawling down familiar streets more slowly than needed as I delayed the inevitable. Fortunately, West’s shift wouldn’t be over for hours, so the apartment was empty when I finally arrived.

I dropped my bag on the living room floor and wandered into the bedroom. I considered packing his clothes into a suitcase and shifting them into the spare room, but as I gazed at the massive bed, memories of all the times he’d made love to me there paraded through my mind.

No, it would be better if I were the one to change rooms. At least then, I wouldn’t have to fight off the ghosts of the past while I tried to snatch a few hours of sleep.

Decision made, I spent the next half hour moving my clothes from our shared closet to the spare bedroom. I removed all my toiletries from the attached bathroom and placed them in the near-empty cabinet in the main bathroom. I moved the little jewelry I did have, the book on my nightstand, and then the whole damn nightstand itself.

When I’d moved everything I thought I might possibly want, I lugged the free weights through to the bedroom that was now West’s. I didn’t want to give him any reason to venture into my personal space.

I dragged the other small pieces of gym equipment through to his room, and then battled to maneuver the treadmill through the doorway and across the hall. We’d put the machine together in the room, so we’d never have to move it, but I wasn’t about to take it apart, because there was every chance I wouldn’t remember how to put it back together.

Kind of like our marriage, in a way.

West had broken it, and I was doing my best to reshape it into something that would work for us for as long as we were stuck together.

I collapsed on the single bed in the spare room and tried to read a women’s adventure novel. My stomach rumbled, alerting me that lunch had been hours ago, but I couldn’t seem to find the will to make anything for dinner. West was the cook in our relationship. At least that was still true. He couldn’t fake being a good cook.

But where had he learned to cook? From his mamma, as he’d always claimed, or from someone else? How would I know? I couldn’t be sure of anything he’d told me. Was he actually an orphaned only child? I supposed it would be easy enough to find out, but that was one reality I wasn’t ready to face yet.

By the time I heard the door open, and West enter, I was still sifting through facts I thought I’d known about him and attempting to determine fact from fiction. It was a losing game, but at least it had reminded me of why I had to remain aloof around my not-husband.

With a deep breath, I gathered myself and strode out to meet him. I stopped abruptly in the living room doorway when the scent of fried chicken met my nose. I narrowed my eyes at West’s tall, strong silhouette.He must have stopped by the twenty-four-hour take-out place a couple of blocks from our apartment.

“You can’t bribe me with spicy fried chicken,” I told him, embarrassed by my petulant tone.

He moved into the light, the easy smile on his lips a massive contrast to the blue and purple bruise surrounding his left eye and the cut on his cheekbone. “I’m not trying to, but there’s no reason we can’t share a nice meal.”

“What happened to you?” My mind zipped to worst case scenarios. Had one of the dirty cops found out about the investigation and attacked him? Was he hurt elsewhere too? And why on earth did I care?

He shrugged one shoulder. “Zeke.”

“Ah.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smirk. I didn’t want him to suffer, not really, but I couldn’t deny being a little pleased that Zeke had defended my honor, however misguided the attempt might have been.

“He’s protective of you.” He held up the box. “Let’s eat.”

I turned up my nose. “I’m not hungry.”

My stomach growled, and I silently dared him to comment on it, but he didn’t.

“I’ll just serve this up then.” He took the box to the kitchen and emptied it onto a plate. “You’re welcome to join me at the table or you can watch from the sofa if you’d prefer.”

I contemplated sitting on the sofa just to spite him, but my stomach grumbled again, eager to be filled with one of its favorite foods. Traitor.

He placed the chicken in the center of the table and sat on one side. I took the other.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, all politeness. “Wine? Beer? Soda?”

“No, thank you.” I’d get myself a glass of water if I was thirsty.

“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a piece of chicken and bit into it. I resisted reaching for one of my own, at least for a minute or so.

“I’ve been thinking.” I steepled my fingers and did my best to keep my voice even.

He arched his uninjured right eyebrow. “And what have you decided?”

I blew out a stream of air, struggling to remain calm. I’d decided this was the best course of action; I couldn’t change my mind now just because it was uncomfortable.

“I’ll help with your case.” I held up my hand, urging him to remain silent. “If there’s a ring of dirty cops inside Chicago PD who are working for Carlos Ortez, then I agree that they need to be stopped.”

Some of the tension bled from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m willing to play along for two months. If it isn’t resolved within that time, we can discuss the matter further. But once your operation is complete, I don’t want to see you again.”

“No!” The protest burst from him unbidden.

My jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he said, the words running together as he raced to get them out. “You can’t ask me to just walk away. I love you so much. I won’t lose you.”

I gazed into his eyes, the green irises almost black in this light. It was impossible to tell whether this was part of his game, but the desperation in his tone and the twinge of something unpleasant deep within me made me wonder.

“I’m sorry.” To my surprise, I meant it. If this was causing him distress for whatever reason, I took no joy in that. “It’s too hard.”

“But—”

“That’s my condition.” I said it firmly, so he’d know it wasn’t up for debate. “I help you, and then you leave me alone. If you won’t agree, then tell me now, because we’ll have to figure out something else.”

He stared at me for a long time, a combination of pain and calculation in his expression. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

Thank God. If he’d argued, and tried to insist once again that he loved me, I don’t know what I would have done. We ate our chicken in silence for a minute or so, gathering our thoughts.

“I have some rules.” I’d need them to get through this with my heart intact.

He frowned. “I thought that’s what your condition was about?”

“Not exactly. I needed that so I could agree to work with you. These rules will govern how we work together.”

“Go ahead, then. Tell me what they are.” He looked resigned, and I had to hope that meant he wouldn’t argue.

I put down a chicken bone. “First, we don’t share a bedroom anymore.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak but then shut it again and nodded.

“Two, you don’t lie to me again. I’m going along with this because I know how important your investigation is, but if I catch you keeping me in the dark about something, you won’t get another chance. ”

He picked up another piece of chicken. “That’s fair. What else?”

I held up a finger. “Just one last thing. There’s no unnecessary affection when we’re alone or with people who know the truth of our relationship.”

I couldn’t handle it if he continued to hug me, kiss me, and promise me love. It would be too confusing, not to mention needlessly cruel.

“Fine.” He didn’t seem happy about it. “I agree to your rules, but for the record, I do love you, and I’m going to prove it.”

Emotion clogged my throat. “Please don’t.”

If I wasn’t so proud, I’d get down on my knees and beg him not to make this harder than it had to be.

He studied me, his eyes darker than usual in the dim light. “I’ll do what I can not to make you uncomfortable, but one of your rules is no lying, so I won’t pretend not to feel anything for you.”

I wiped my fingers on a napkin so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “Tell me about your assignment.”

He hesitated for a long moment, as if weighing whether he ought to push, but then allowed me to move the conversation on.

“Last year, a detective was shot while off-duty. He was investigating Carlos Ortez in relation to a drug bust made at a warehouse in the industrial district.”

I nodded, grateful to discuss a case rather than our sham of a marriage. “How did that lead you to investigate dirty cops?”

“Because we found far less product at the warehouse than we expected.” He pushed the chicken toward me, his lip curled as if in disgust. “According to our intelligence, we should have confiscated almost ten times as much, and have arrested at least five of Ortez’s employees. Instead, we got one low level dealer and hardly enough coke to put him away.”

“So, you think someone warned him about the raid?” I asked, following his train of thought.

“The raid was organized quickly, based on a last-minute tip, and only a small number of officers knew about it. There’s no reason word should have gotten back to Ortez so quickly.” He stacked his hands one on top of the other. “Yeah, we think a cop alerted him before we arrived, so he had time to clear out almost everything.”

I considered this. It would certainly be the simplest explanation, even if it wasn’t the one people would prefer to believe. “Any idea who?”

His lips tugged down at the corners. “Pretty sure we know, but we can’t make an arrest yet. When we started asking questions, it became clear that this guy isn’t the only one on Ortez’s payroll. There’s a reason nothing ever gets pinned on him. We’re holding off on any arrests until we can take down the whole lot at once. Otherwise, we risk some of them getting skittish and running.”

“Names?” I asked.

“This wasn’t in your precinct,” he told me. “It was in the fourth district.”

“So, I likely wouldn’t know them.” I frowned. “Why infiltrate my precinct then?”

He shrugged. “We’ve tried to get an undercover officer into every district. I’m only a small part of the overall investigation.”

“So, if I were to out you, it could risk not just your specific investigation, but also the others connected to it.” It wasn’t a question. I just needed to understand the stakes and voicing it out loud helped.

“Yes. I can’t share any details from those connected investigations though, and I can’t give you the names of anyone involved without clearing it with my handler.”

I supposed that meant that if the blond woman was part of the investigation, I wouldn’t get to learn her identity. But if she wasn’t…

“The blonde I saw you with, is she part of the operation?”

He met my gaze levelly. “Yes. She’s a professional contact and nothing more.”

“But you can’t tell me how.” Again, a statement not a question.

“Not yet.”

I appreciated that he hadn’t ruled it out completely. “Is there anything else I should know?”

He grimaced. “Too much. But nothing urgent. Why don’t we discuss details as the need arises?”

“Fine.” I stood. “I’ve eaten enough.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Despite the earlier growling of my stomach, it was churning uncomfortably, and I suspected that eating more would only make me queasy. “Are you done?”

He glanced at the barely touched chicken. “Yeah.”

“I’ll clean up then.” We both reached for the plate at the same time. Our gazes met across the table. His was soft, with a hint of pleading in it. I released the plate immediately and stepped backward. “Or you can.”

I strode out of the living area toward the room I’d claimed as my own. I shut the door behind myself, lay on the bed and curled up on my side, drawing my knees to my chest. I breathed in the hint of mint that always seemed to follow West around and groaned.

How was it that his scent clung to the pillow and sheets when he hadn’t slept in this bed recently?

I screwed my eyes shut and let tears spring up behind my eyelids. Why couldn’t I escape the damn man?

I tried to draw in another breath, but my chest constricted so much it was almost painful. Somehow, the thought of getting away from West hurt as much as being constantly reminded of him. It wasn’t fair. He’d lied to me. I shouldn’t be hung up on him like this. After all, what did I really know about him?

He’d pretended to be a bartender. A romantic. He’d claimed to enjoy Chinese martial arts movies and sudoku, but could that also have been a fabrication to get close to me?

I had no idea.

He knocked on the door, and I bolted upright and swiped at my eyes, determined not to let him see me like this.

“Joanna?” He didn’t come in.

“What?” I winced at how abrupt I sounded.

He paused. “Would you like to watch a movie?”

“No, thanks. It’s late, and I need to answer some emails before bed.” And just not be around him.

“You can do that while we watch,” he replied seamlessly.

“I have to work tomorrow, and I can’t be overly tired.”

He sighed. “Don’t you think we should talk more?”

It seemed there was nothing for it but the truth. “I really don’t. And right now, I want to be alone.”