Code Name - Rook (Jameson Force Security 6)

Not without the risk of losing her.

He listens quietly, not a single tic on his face that anything I’m saying is even registering. Face passive, he stares at me and ignores his beer.

“I had intended to tell her in Vegas, but then I got called up for a mission in Colombia. I knew I couldn’t drop that bombshell on her right before I had to leave for a week. Then I was going to tell her this afternoon when I got back. We had just taken our seats in the living room—I’d told her I had something to tell her—when the damn door flew open. Those men burst in, and she was taken.”

Mr. Dolan finally shakes his head. “I’ve got to tell you, Cage. That’s about the dumbest story I’ve ever heard in my life. I mean, the actual lie about what you do for a living. I’ll never understand you kids.”

“I agree. Dumb and asinine. Think Jaime will forgive me?”

“You have a lot of work to get there,” he says sagely. “And honestly, I don’t know. It doesn’t help this came on the heels of her last boyfriend cheating on her.”

“Don’t I know it,” I reply glumly, my gaze dropping to the floor.

“But,” he drawls, and my head snaps up, ready to take any bit of hope he can offer. “I imagine you’re a pretty determined guy, and it seems your heart is in the right place now. I certainly don’t think you have anything to lose by fighting for her.”

That’s absolutely true.

And I have everything to lose if I can’t get through to her.CHAPTER 24JaimeTheir voices are low, but they’re still carrying through to the living room. My mom, dad, brother, and sister are all in there, having a conversation about me. They think they’re being covert about it.

“She’s been lying on that couch all day, just staring at the ceiling,” my mom whispers, maternal worry thick in her voice.

“She watched some of the Raiders’ game,” Brian points out in a low murmur. “So, she’s not exactly catatonic.”

“And she did brush her hair.” Laney would be the one to notice something like that.

“Well, I don’t like it,” my father adds his own two cents, also in a harsh whisper. “She’s clearly depressed.”

That actually makes me smile—my father assessing my mental fortitude.

I suppose they might be a little freaked out. After all, I got kidnapped yesterday and rescued by late evening. They discovered I was secretly married, and I found out after they did that my husband wasn’t who I thought he was. When we left the FBI station, I asked if I could stay at their house for a few days.

Mom and Dad had exchanged a worried look because I’ve always been the independent one. While their home is open to any of their kids—as evidenced by their adult son living in their basement—my request to stay with them indicated I wasn’t in a good headspace.

Of course, another reason I wanted to stay at my parents’ was that Cage had been blowing up my phone with texts and voicemails, reiterating his apologies and begging for some time to talk. I deleted every single one. At one point, my finger actually hovered over the button that would block him.

But I hadn’t.

We went to my childhood home, and I slept in the old bedroom I shared with Laney. Back then, we had twin beds with matching white comforters with eyelet embroidery around the edge. Our mom had made them for us.

The twin beds are long gone, and there’s just a pull-out couch. My mom uses it for her sewing room now, having moved all her fabrics and her machine up from the basement to give Brian a place to sleep. I was so tired last night, I didn’t even bother pulling the couch out. I threw a sheet over it, pulled a blanket over myself, and dropped into a dead sleep that was devoid of any dreams or nightmares. My mind and body were exhausted from a whirlwind week, starting in Vegas, culminating in an unplanned and spontaneous marriage, followed by a kidnapping, and ending with the knowledge my husband is not who he said he was.

When I awoke this morning, my first thought was of Cage, and it was through a haze of sadness and uncertainty. I’m still so angry. At some point, I know I’ll have to give him a chance to say his piece. The question is whether I’ll ever accept anything he has to say.

I have no clue why I feel so betrayed. It’s not like he hid a secret family, a sordid criminal past, or a drug addiction.

He lied about his job.

Most, like my mother, would say “big whoop.”

But damn if it doesn’t bother me way down deep, and I think a lot of it is because I feel like the world’s biggest idiot for marrying a man who suckered me. It feels worse than betrayal because part of this is my fault for being so damn gullible in believing we had a real connection.