A Single Touch (Irresistible Attraction 3)

“Then why should I ever trust him again?” That’s really what it comes down to. I don’t know that I can believe him or trust him ever again.

“Because he’s trying to be a better man… for you. He’s done all of this, for you.”

I try to respond, to disagree. But I can’t. Intention matters and behind all of this, he wanted to keep me safe. He tells me one last thing as he makes his way out.

“You know he loves you.” Seth sounds so sure of it. “Just love him back.” With that he shuts the door, not waiting for a response.

Jase

“I’d say she’s pissed,” I comment in the dark night as I shut my car door. I fucking hate that I’m not there now, just in case she wants to talk or yell… even if she wants to hit me again.

“I’d say she has a right to be.” Glaring at Seth’s profile, I note that he doesn’t look back at me until he adds, “She loves you, though.” When his eyes reach mine, I look ahead instead.

He changes the subject to ask, “You ready for this?”

It’s bitter cold as the clear, glassy surface of the puddle beneath my boot is shattered. I don’t hesitate to take another step and another. Moving quickly through the harsh wind to the warehouse.

“No one’s ever ready for this shit.”

“I don’t like not knowing what to expect,” Seth comments, and it’s only then that I notice how tense he seems.

“Whatever happens in there, we’ll figure it out,” I assure him. “Follow my lead.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best at that, Boss.”

“You’ve always been the best.”

“Not at following… I like lists and control and knowing what to do. If you’re telling me that you don’t know, I’m telling you I might not follow.”

There’s always been direction. Always been a sense of right and wrong and a certain way to do things. Recently though, everything has been like walking through fog.

“Whatever you do,” I finally answer him, “don’t point your gun at me. Aim it at the prick who brought us here.”

With a huff of a laugh he tells me, “I’ll try to remember that.”

Pushing open the double doors, I feel every muscle in my body coil, ready to act. Bright light greets us instantly, blinding me momentarily. It only makes the adrenaline in my blood pump harder and faster.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Cody Walsh’s voice reverberates in the large empty space. Blood rushes in my ears as I take in the man who’s been like a dog with a bone ever since he arrived in town.

There’s no back room or secret entrances in the empty warehouse. The ceilings have to be twenty feet high and the room itself is vacant, all 1200 square feet of it. With the exception of a steel shelf on the back wall and several stacks of old metal chairs behind Officer Walsh and another man I’ve never seen before, there’s nothing here. Nowhere for anyone else to hide. That doesn’t mean there aren’t cameras.

“Good to see you again, Officer,” I speak and other than my voice, the only sounds are the large fans spinning above us as we walk to them, slowly closing the distance. Seth stays back slightly, letting me lead the way.

Officer Walsh is in jeans and a black leather jacket, nothing like his typical attire, save the expression on his face.

“Undercover tonight?” Seth mutters beneath his breath, although it’s a joke – there’s a serious hint of a smirk there – and I share a quick glance with him. All of the FBI cases we could find on Walsh are sealed, except for one case. The one that has information on Marcus as well. His files were squeaky clean, with numerous medals and honors, referrals. But not a damn thing about undercover work. Anyone could spot him as a cop. He’d die in a week out here if he pulled that shit.

Our boots smack off the cement floor as my eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting and we get closer to the two of them.

The other man is younger. Maybe in his thirties, or late twenties. In dark gray sweats and a long-sleeve black Henley, he would come off as relaxed if he didn’t keep looking between Cody Walsh and the two of us.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” I address the other man, and the moment he opens his mouth to greet me, Officer Walsh whips up his gun to the side of the man’s head and fires.

The racing of my heart isn’t quite as fast as I am to pull my gun from its holster. With both hands on the steel in my hands, I stare at Walsh pointing the barrel at the unsuspecting man beside him. If Walsh sees my gun and Seth’s aimed at him, he doesn’t react, he only watches the man to his left. The dead man falls to his knees, his eyes dead and vacant with a rough bullet hole leaking blood down his face. Walsh continues to focus on him until finally, the man falls face-first onto the floor with a dull thud.