I covered my face with my hands, shrinking in fear. I didn’t know if he was going to strike.
“Don’t run, Em.”
My palms slid from my eyes and I stared in disbelief. Horror.
It was Vaughn.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I scrambled for the door. I ran, throwing my hands on the latch, but he was faster than me. He clamped his grip around my wrists and pulled me into the cover of darkness. The bricks were rough against my arm.
“Let go of me.” I stru
ggled.
“Shh. Stop. Just stop.”
I kicked at him. Something primal in me was unleashed. “Don’t touch me.” I wrestled, knowing he was stronger than I ever would be, but I didn’t stop fighting.
“Em, I just want to talk to you. Can you stop kicking me for two seconds?”
My movements slowed and I looked into his eyes. My chest heaved. I was out of breath.
I had envisioned this. What it would be like to see him again. To look into his smoldering eyes. To feel the heat of his skin against mine. I wondered what I would do when I heard his voice. How it would awaken my senses. Remind me that what we had was real. That it wasn’t reduced to a criminal report in a bureau file.
His eyes bore into mine.
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I wanted to see you. I needed to.”
“Don’t. Don’t lie. You don’t have to anymore. I know about Jeremy West. About you.”
He didn’t drop his gaze. “Hear me out.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to hear anything you say. I can’t.”
“Nothing? You have no questions? You’re not curious? You don’t want to ask me anything? I’m here, Em. I’m right here in front of you. There has to be something.”
He baited my curiosity. He lured me in with the appeal of healing the pain. Because if somehow I had answers I would feel better. It wouldn’t feel as if I couldn’t breathe anymore. I’d be able to make it through a day without sobbing. I’d be able to sleep without drinking three glasses of wine. I’d be over him if I knew the truth. I’d be free.
If I had the truth, I could heal. I could let him go. I could let the whole thing be in the past. The pain would be gone. The shattering would stop.
“Don’t pretend you’re going to try honesty now.”
His hands moved up my arms, folding over my shoulders. I tried not to react, but there was a whimper in my throat. I closed my eyes.
“Fuck, Em. I’m risking everything to be here.”
“You’re risking everything? You?” I mocked him. “I’m now in a cozy relationship with Agent Kenneth from the bureau. I was this close to being charged with treason. You have violated everything. Everything.” I wanted him to let go of me. To take his hands off me. “You need to go. Leave, Vaughn. Get out of here.”
The romantic notion that seeing him again would erase nearly a month of hell was drowned out by my anger. It was taking me under just like Vaughn had done—clinging to my ankles, dragging me below the surface of sanity. Below the level of good and right. Where justice and honesty floated. Beneath measure of where I used to live my life.
“I’m not going anywhere yet.”
A chill ran through me. “You should. I don’t want your lies. I don’t want you to touch me, or speak to me. Go.” My throat choked on the words.