Hearts Under Siege (10 page)

“I— It’s— Damn.” He shook his head when Molly chuckled. “Man, you mess me up.” He gestured between them. “This is why. When I’m on the phone with you, I can hold on to my suave manliness. In person—” He winced.

She burst out laughing, hurt forgotten. “What are you talking about? Are you shy?”

“Not usually.” He stopped smiling ruefully, and her laughter faded into an
uh-oh
. “But then, I don’t usually have a crush on my conduits.”

“Oh. Um.” Talk about emotional whiplash. Heat rushed up her body, and she knew her face had turned fuchsia.

“Yeah, see?” He ran his hand down his face, turning away from her to stare across the room. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we talked. It’s completely inappropriate, but I figured as long as we didn’t meet, it didn’t matter. That’s why I didn’t want to be the one to talk to you today.”

His cheek muscle twitched. Molly wondered if that was a tell, if there was more he wasn’t saying, but she was too caught up in his revelation. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had shown interest in her—at least, not the gross kind. How was she supposed to handle this?

How did she
want
to handle it?

“Then why didn’t you say no when I called up? Or you could have kept it to yourself when I insisted on seeing you—which I would have, and I’m pretty hard to resist when I get pushy.”

Her attempt to ease the tension that suddenly filled the room only pierced it a little.

Dix glanced at her, then away and down. “I thought it better to get it out in the open. And maybe…to see…”

Her heart rate picked up and she curled her fingers into her palm, her nails scratching against her jeans, the sound betraying her nervous elation. She didn’t know what to say. As always, Brady’s face, laughing, filled the back of her mind.

When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands in the air between them. But he didn’t speak again, not to push her, and not to erase what he’d said. He was giving her time to process, even though it looked like the wait was killing him.

Her first reaction was to pull away. To say something carefully regretful that would preserve their working relationship and not hurt his feelings but put a definite stop to his overture.

Then something in her rebelled at her usual response to male attention. She’d never consciously “saved” herself for Brady, but part of her belonged to him and always would, which always got in the way, eventually if not immediately.

But everything was different now, especially with regard to Jessica. So Molly had to start looking at her future differently. Like at all.

And Dixson had several items in the “pro” column. His looks, to start. She didn’t know him all that well as a person, but as a handler, he was excellent. She knew him to be smart, quick thinking, serious about his work and his people, but with a great sense of humor, one that was compatible with hers.

The only real reason
not
to date him was their job connection. No way was she going to jeopardize her career over a guy. Not when she’d found where she belonged after so many years of lonely drifting.

But maybe the job didn’t have to get in the way. She had no idea what the rules were.

“What happens if I say I’m glad you did?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder, then straightened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if I said I haven’t had my own crush, but new possibilities have recently opened my eyes?” His expression, which had fallen on the word “crush,” brightened again with the rest of her sentence. She laughed. “I can see why you’re not a field agent.”

He gave the rueful smile again. “Yeah, I failed the poker test. Now you know the depth of my humiliation.”

It was said as if he intended it to be a joke, but she caught an undercurrent she couldn’t identify. “Why would that be humiliating? You just have a different kind of skill set.”

“Oh, it’s not, really.” He waved it off, but not believably. “Only if you’re a legacy.”

She cocked her head. Legacy? Did that mean his father had been a field agent? How many family ties did SIEGE mine, anyway? She opened her mouth to ask who’d recruited him and then hesitated, realizing it was the kind of question that could be grounds for reprimand or discipline. As a conduit, she wasn’t allowed to ask her contacts anything so direct. SIEGE was built on the understanding that information had power, and protected itself accordingly.

“Never mind,” Dix said. He flashed a hopeful grin. “So you’re saying you’d be interested? In me? In going out with me, I mean? On a date? Or whatever?”

“Maybe.” She shifted to support her head on her hand. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’d need to be reassigned.”

Her heart sank, dragging down the bubble of lightness. Having Dix as a handler was part of the reason she loved her job so much. But if things developed between them
outside
that job, she wouldn’t need it quite so much.

“So, dating within the organization isn’t disallowed, as long as you don’t work directly together?”

“Right.” His eyebrows puckered. “Actually, I’d have to check on that. I never really paid attention.”

Molly’s phone rang again. She checked her watch. It was after five, and Donna wanted to have dinner at five-thirty. She was probably calling to get Molly’s ETA. “I’m sorry, I should get this.” She stood and pulled the phone from her pocket to silence the ringtone.

“No problem.” Dix rose to stand in front of her. “So…”

“So check out the rulebook and let me know what you find out.” She smiled at him, making it open and inviting. “And if you need to give me a new handler, make sure it’s someone as good as you.”

He walked her to the door. “Giving me the impossible tasks right off the bat, huh? Setting the tone?”

“Something like that,” she responded with a wink. She thumbed the phone to activate it as she strode toward the elevators. No voice mail message, not yet, but before she’d gotten halfway down the length of the hall, the ringing started over, same number. She sighed. “Hello?”

“Molly, dear, good. I was just wondering where you were. Dinner should be ready soon.” Molly let Donna ramble on as she descended to the lobby again, nodded good-bye to Baby-Face and Giant Door Holder Guy, and got into her car.

“Brady and Jessica still aren’t home, and there’s no answer at Jessica’s. I called her cell phone but it’s here in the living room. And Brady’s not answering his, which you know is so unusual, at least when he’s home. Here. You know. So where are you?”

“I had a business thing to take care of,” Molly told her, starting the engine. “I’m about half an hour away. Is there anything you need me to pick up?”

“No, no, we’re all set, but did you get the paperwork from the bank? Jessica is so worried about access to bank and credit card accounts, and of course the death certificate hasn’t arrived yet, and—”

“Yes, I got the paperwork. Listen, I don’t want to drive while I’m on the phone. I’ll be back soon. You can all go ahead and start without me.” After they got through Donna’s protests, Molly got her off the phone and drove out of the parking lot after having her ID badge scanned again.

She wasn’t looking forward to a long drive—longer because she was smack in the middle of rush hour—thinking about possible reasons Brady and Jessica weren’t answering their phones.

She’d just have to think about dating Dixson instead. And with that, the drive didn’t seem so horrible after all.

Chapter Six

Jessica was driving Brady batshit nuts.

He never thought he’d say that, would never have imagined it possible. But seven hours in her sole presence wasn’t the dream he’d conjured up during college and on too many dark nights during too many lonely missions.

After getting her out of bed, coaxing her to eat, and prodding her through showering and getting ready to go to her and Christopher’s house, they’d driven over in silence. Her long, quiet sleep hadn’t been as restful as it should have been. She still had shadows under her eyes, was slow to respond to anything he said, slow to move, slow to think. It was like she was 90 percent underwater and unaware of it. Brady vowed to be patient, but she’d immediately and repeatedly tried his resolve.

First was the prescription she asked him to refill while she went through the mail that had accumulated. He’d gotten all the way to the pharmacy before he looked at it and realized it was birth control pills. She didn’t answer the phone, so he drove all the way back to get the right prescription, for prenatal vitamins.

Once he got back from that trip, he found her sitting like a zombie at the kitchen table, bills and junk and sympathy cards all jumbled together in front of her. He helped her sort everything out and went online to pay bills, because she still had access to the joint bank account despite her fear that they could cut her off at any moment.

“They don’t even know Chris is dead,” Brady told her unthinkingly. Jessica burst into tears, and it took half an hour to calm her down enough to resume doing what needed to be done.

“Are you hungry?” He pushed himself wearily to his feet, hands flat on the table, thinking she should have some lunch, at least for the baby’s sake.

“Not really,” she’d murmured, reordering the stack of cards so the smallest ones were on the top of the pile. “I guess I could handle a little something.”

“How about a sandwich?” He opened the fridge and was hit in the face with a massive stench wave. “
Hawgh
.” He gagged. Pressed his fist to his mouth. Gagged again.
Shut the door, genius
. He’d slammed it and stood frozen until his gorge stopped trying to erupt like a volcano. “Maybe not a sandwich.”

Jessica hadn’t reacted to the smell or to Brady’s reaction to it. “There are crackers and peanut butter in the cupboard,” she told him, pointing listlessly.

“Sound good to you?” He’d reached to open the cupboard. Man, he was going to have to clean out that refrigerator.
Ugh
. Some of that stuff had to be older than last week. Why the hell would it smell so bad so quickly? Last month was more like it.

“Not good, but manageable. Something. Protein. Good for the baby,” she murmured.

“Okay. I’ll make you some, and you take it to the bedroom to eat while you pack more clothes to take to my parents’ house.”

Once he had her settled in the bedroom, he’d braced himself and gone back to the fridge. Stood and stared at it. Went searching for a surgical mask, and found a bandana in the garage that he hoped Chris hadn’t worn running or something. It smelled faintly of motor oil. Better than rotten—

Eggs. Hard-boiled and ancient, tucked in the back of the fridge. Also fruit, soft and moldy, so squishy he dug under the sink for rubber gloves before cleaning out
that
drawer. The last inch or so of milk in the jug had spoiled, too, and someone hadn’t put the top on correctly, so that odor joined the mix.

Brady had been glad Jessica was in the bedroom and couldn’t hear him cursing with every new find. He got rid of anything that had spoiled or would spoil, hauling the garbage out to the curb. Who cared if trash day wasn’t until next week? Then he’d scrubbed down the glass shelves with baking soda and rinsed out the produce drawers. It had taken him hours.

It was now after five. His mother was going to have a hissy explosion if they didn’t get back in time for dinner. Stretching against the kink in his back, he went to Jessica’s room to see if she was done packing. He found her sitting on the side of the bed, surrounded by clothes and an empty suitcase. He stifled a sigh. How the hell hard was it to throw a couple pairs of jeans and a few shirts into a bag?

Okay, pretty damned hard, he supposed, if you were a one-week widow, pregnant, and helpless. But she wasn’t even trying to help herself, and that frustrated him. He took a deep breath before circling the bed and kneeling in front of her.

“Jess, honey.” He took her hands and tried not to ask what was wrong. What wasn’t? “You haven’t packed anything.”

She blinked at him, gray-hazel eyes swimming, then swept her gaze around the room. “What time is it?” She sniffed and pulled a hand away to touch the back of it to her nose.

“Nearly five-thirty.”

“Oh, your mother is going to have a fit.” She stood and started tossing items into the suitcase. Brady realized she did have a system in the mess. Kind of. Pants in one pile, shirts, undergarments… He turned away, but was heartened that she hadn’t been haphazardly tossing stuff around.

“I know. I can’t believe she hasn’t called.” He pulled out his phone almost out of habit, and frowned, thumbing the power button. “Crap. Dead battery. Still, she’d call the house phone.”

“No, I unplugged it.” Jessica shoved a pile of extras into an open dresser drawer and shoved it closed with her hip. “I couldn’t handle…while you were gone to the pharmacy, it rang three times. Two were friends, and that was hard enough, but the third one asked for Christopher. I don’t even know who he was, I just hung up, but it was—” She broke down again.

Brady shoved his phone back in his jeans and wrapped his arms around her. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked, warmth surging through him when she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. He kept assuring her it would be okay until she stopped crying.

She leaned back, her arm still around his waist, so he didn’t let go of her. “Oh, Brady, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess. What you must think of me.”

“I think you’re struggling through a very difficult time.” He brushed her hair back, his fingertips grazing her cheek and neck. She shivered and closed her eyes. Brady went still. He recognized that reaction.

“Brady,” she whispered, tilting her face back, her lips parting.

He flashed back to that stupid Christmas, when he’d kissed her and told her he loved her, and she almost admitted she loved him, too, but loved his brother more. It was just a flash, though, a quick superimposition of her young, happy face over her current ravaged one. She didn’t so much look older now as haggard, with the circles and no makeup and lines deepening across her forehead and around her eyes and mouth. They didn’t detract from her beauty, not for him, and he zeroed in on her lush, pink mouth. A shudder went through him, a burst of need and pent-up desire, and he bent his head, his eyelids dropping—

And then that lush mouth trembled.

What the fuck are you doing?

He straightened, disappointment slapping at shock. He couldn’t believe he’d almost kissed her. His brother’s frigging widow.
The woman you love
. No. Right now, she was Christopher’s widow. He couldn’t let her be anything else.

Not yet…

…

“This is becoming a habit.” Brady scraped his fingers through his hair and yawned as he trudged to the kitchen island, where Molly had once again supplied breakfast.

“It’s easy. And necessary.” She flicked her paper cup but didn’t look up from where she sat in the breakfast nook, fully dressed in jeans and a hoodie over a snug white tank top, a cream-cheesed bagel and more Starbucks surrounded by papers and files spread over the small table.

Brady sliced an onion bagel and popped it in the toaster. “What are you looking at?”

She sighed. “Just paperwork.”

“For the bank and stuff?” He grabbed the fridge handle and hesitated, holding his breath before opening the door, snagging the cream cheese tub, and slamming it closed.

Molly finally looked up. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve been traumatized.” He told her about the refrigerator.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” she dismissed, almost with irritation.

“I am not exaggerating.” He yanked his bagel from the toaster and shook his burned fingers. “There was some old rice in the back, I swear it had been festering for over a month. It smelled like—” He cringed. “I don’t know, like a toilet that had been festering for a month.”

Molly laughed. “Oh, come on.”

He held up the cream-cheese knife and evoked their childhood oath. “I swear on the Black Knob of Gillencrest,” he said. “It was that bad.”

Molly’s brow puckered. “After only a week?”

He shrugged. “There were a lot of leftovers. Looked like she hadn’t thrown anything out in a while.” He sorted through the go-cups to find his and carried it and his plate to the table. “She was adjusting to the pregnancy, maybe she didn’t have the energy or something.”

“Maybe.” Molly shifted some papers, some of which had “Global Information Exchange” at the top.

“What are those?” He pulled a paper out and read it himself. It was a release for life insurance. The reality of Chris’s death hit him in the gut, harder than it had since Molly first told him. He stared at the paper, not seeing it, not thinking, just enduring an overwhelming wave of pain. His vision closed in until all he could see was black words on white paper. Then fingers slid the paper from his grasp and covered his hand. Warmth seeped from the contact, giving him the strength to shove back the grief until he could focus on Molly’s sympathetic face.

“Thanks.”

She smiled and patted his hand before taking a big bite of her bagel. “So, besides the Fridge of Doom,” she said around the bite, “how did it go at the house yesterday?”

Brady blew out a breath. “You wouldn’t even believe it.”

“Of course I would. You’re the only one who thinks Princess Jessica is perfect.”

“
Shh!
” he scolded. He leaned sideways to make sure she wasn’t coming down the hall. “That’s not nice.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Okay, fine, if I thought she was perfect, yesterday showed me she’s only human. But we need to cut her slack under the circumstances.”

“Sure.”

Brady searched for sarcasm, but decided she’d meant it. “Anyway, she’s so out of it she sent me to the drugstore to refill her birth control prescription.”

Molly laughed, then frowned. “She hasn’t still been taking them, has she?”

“How the hell should I know?” He chewed and swallowed. “I figured she gave me the wrong package. She wanted her prenatal vitamins.”

“Yeah, Donna said she was out.” Chin in her hand, Molly tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “That seems to have happened fast.”

Exasperated, Brady stared at her. “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know.” She also twisted to look down the hall, her mouth pursed thoughtfully. “It’s just odd.”

The shape of Molly’s mouth, too much like a pucker, and the word “odd” triggered Brady’s brain the way things do, making it jump to the completely unrelated topic of sex. Specifically, sex with Molly. Which he suddenly remembered in hot, desperate detail. His whole body heated.

Fuck
. He’d managed to avoid thinking about it all week. When she’d deflected his attempts to talk about it, he’d honored her wishes. So why did the memories have to pop up now?

Along with other things.

“Molly.”

She turned back to him, her eyes bright and hard. “What?”

He faltered, taken aback. “I…uh…how’s the store? I mean, as a store, not as a front.”

After studying him for several long, uncomfortable seconds, she apparently decided to take the question at face value. “It’s good. Lots of colleges around, the symphony, you know. I have a broad customer base.”

“Do you miss the travel?”

“Some. Mostly not. I never got to really see the places I visited.” She lifted a shoulder. “It burns you out, that kind of travel. As you probably know.”

“Yeah, but I see more than the inside of performance halls. I have to get to know whatever city I’m in. You could, too, if you became a field agent. Ever consider it?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t want her to be a field agent. Granted, working for SIEGE wasn’t as dangerous as working for other alphabet agencies—Chris’s death and their adventure in South America notwithstanding. But it was still more dangerous than being a conduit.

Thankfully, Molly shook her head. “I like having my own city, my own home, steady work.”

“A chance to have a family?”

Damn. Where the hell had
that
come from? He sat back, afraid of her reaction. She didn’t disappoint.

“Why, because I’m a woman? I should stay home and sustain the population while the menfolk do all the traveling?”

Brady opened his mouth to defend himself, then caught the humor in her eyes and chuckled. He shook his head. “You had me going.”

“Well, you should think before you speak.” She started sorting the papers. “No, a chance to have a family was never part of the equation.” Her sharp movements almost dared him to ask why, but he was a smart man. Or he’d learned from his mistakes. Or he just didn’t want to know the answer.

“Thanks for helping out with everything,” he said, and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“No problem.” She scribbled on a few sticky notes and slapped them onto the various piles she’d created. “Have Jessica sign these.” She pointed to the first pile. “We should get them in the mail today so she receives the settlement check quickly. This stuff is for your mom.” Her hand rested on the second pile. “Mostly answers to questions she had, and stuff I’ve done that was on her list.”

“Why can’t you tell them yourself?” he asked. Jessica’s door opened at the back of the house, and he caught a glimpse of her ducking into the bathroom. His heart started to pound at the idea of seeing her.

“I have to go.” Molly drained her coffee and gathered up her trash. “The last pile is stuff that still needs to be done. You and your parents can talk about who’s going to do what. I’ll be back in—”