Cherise Sinclair - If only

“I am. But your Doms are FBI, girlfriend. They’ll find you.”

“They’re not mine.” Not anymore. “And they won’t try very long.” Not after she’d caused a fight. Ran away from them. “If they figure out you drove me here, can you tell them I said I’m sorry for causing them trouble. That I’m safe and thanks for the fun times.”

“Pretty crappy times if they made you look like this, the assholes.”

“It wasn’t their fault. I did it all.” Sally felt tears rising. “Gotta go.” Blinking hard, she hugged Jessica, grabbed her backpack, and ran into the terminal.

* * *

She loved him. Sitting at his desk in the home office, Galen scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t get the memory of her soft expression out of his head. Flushed and beautiful, she’d looked him straight in the eyes and said that. “I love you.”

He hadn’t said it back. But he did.

Didn’t want to. Shouldn’t. But he did.

Law enforcement and relationships weren’t a good mix. Maybe some couples could deal with knowing that one partner could well die young, leaving the other to grieve. Not all—there was a reason the divorce rate for cops and agents was so high.

But most hadn’t experienced the grief and guilt of losing a loved one to criminals seeking revenge. Ursula hadn’t volunteered to be murdered.

How could Galen ever risk putting another woman in such danger?

But did he have the right to step away from someone who loved him? Or to hurt two people besides himself.

Sally loved Vance—and Vance loved her back. Fuck, his partner deserved a sweetie like Sally. Vance had always wanted a wife and children; maybe not this soon, but a person couldn’t dictate when love arrived.

What kind of a bastard would Galen be to let his fucking worries mess up his partner?

He should step away now. Let Sally go…and tell Vance to keep her. Perhaps it would hurt less if he knew they were together.

But Galen would lose them both. Pain stabbed into his chest so sharp and swift that he put his hand over his sternum. Hell. He’d known losing Vance would hurt, but the thought of being without the imp was just as bad.

After another breath, he nodded. He’d do what he had to do.

The door to the office opened, and Vance walked in—and stared. “Fuck, pard, mellow. We’ll find her. She hasn’t used a credit card, so she’s probably still in the city.”

“That’s not the problem.” Galen’s voice came out sounding as weak as if he lived in a nursing home. Christ, pull it together. “After I help you find her, I’ll back out.”

“Back out…how?”

“You and Sally are good together.” Galen forced his mouth into a smile. “You can name the first kid after me.”

Vance’s nostrils flared as he pulled in a breath. “You stubborn asshole.”

“We never talked—”

“Didn’t think we needed to.” Vance crossed his arms over his chest. “But we will now. Lay our fucking cards on the table so I can kick your ass.”

Galen felt the rise of anger like a slow burn. Couldn’t Vance just say thanks and move on? “I don’t want a wife.”

“Bullshit. You don’t want to risk losing someone you care about. Can’t stand feeling guilty. You pussy.” Vance stalked across the room and stared down at him. “Bet if you’d been in a car accident and your wife died, you’d never drive again.”

“You don’t know—”

“Jesus, bro, I lost a partner in a takedown. Been through the if-I’d-only-moved-faster remorse. Had a partner turn into an alcoholic. Been through the if-only-I’d-been-more-supportive remorse. We all feel guilty about shit we could’ve done better. The rest of the world gets past it.”

Galen stood. Considered smashing his fist into that sarcastic mouth.

Vance’s gaze met his. “It’s time to move on, Galen. You’ve hung on your guilt too long.”

Maybe. But the past didn’t just disappear. Neither did worries over someone’s safety. Galen closed his eyes and exhaled. But others made it through to the other side. Time to man up. “Anything else you want to get off your chest,” he asked in a dry voice.

Vance grinned and leaned his hip against the desk. “Long as we’re being all girlie here, yeah.” He crossed his arms again. “We live together. Top together. Co-Dom when there’s a sub in the house. Always figured we’d co-husband together if we found someone.”

Fuck. “You get any more in touch with your feminine side, and you’ll need tampons.”

Vance’s lips quirked. “Yeah, well…” His voice changed into the tone he used to coax information from suspects and submissives. “Can you trust me enough to share your idea of the future?” He waited.

Fucking Dom manipulative techniques were fucking effective.

Galen paced across the room and stared out the window. The glossy hibiscus shrub boasted a wealth of flashy red trumpet flowers…and they’d wilt away by late afternoon.

No lasting power.

He scowled at the bush. When he’d joined the FBI, no one mentioned one of his enemies could be his own mind. But he’d never backed away from a fight before. Wouldn’t start now. And he’d win this one.

So. Although he still wouldn’t mind putting a fist in the pushy bastard’s face, Vance deserved an answer.

Galen sighed. If he could conquer his worry and guilt, then…then, he could think of nothing better than living in the future with Sally. With Vance at his side.

Ayuh.

He turned and looked his partner in the eye. “Being the older husband, I expect to name our first kid.”

* * *

A few hours later, Galen followed his partner through the back gate into Z’s private gardens. A distant rumbling made him look up. The air was muggy, and black clouds piled up like skyscrapers on the western horizon. Yeah, it was almost June. The afternoon thunderstorm season had started. Getting drenched would be a fitting end to a dismal day.

They still hadn’t found Sally.

Since she didn’t carry much cash, they figured she’d holed up with a friend, and so they’d called the trainees. No luck. Tried the Shadowlands submissives, one by one. Good thing that grad school had limited the imp’s social time or they’d have been calling every female in her university.

They’d gone through the entire list of Shadowkittens without success.

Then Z had called after hearing from the other Masters. Although Jessica was home, she hadn’t mentioned receiving their voice mail.

Yeah, she knew something.

“Think Jessica will tell us where Sally went?” Vance asked as they walked across the veranda.

“Not a chance.” That little banty hen had a rep for defending the submissives. She was as protective in her way as Z was in his, so coaxing information out of her might be tricky.

Jessica lived with Z on the Shadowlands mansion’s third floor, and by the time he reached the top, Galen’s knee hurt like a son of a bitch.

Z opened the door to their knock. “Gentlemen.” Dressed in black jeans and a loose black shirt, he led them through the kitchen, the dining room, and into the living room. The light from arched windows streamed over the creamy walls, the dark red carpet, and glinted off Jessica’s long golden hair. Curled in a corner of the leather couch, she stared at them with wary eyes. The determined tilt of her chin was worrisome.

Vance lifted an eyebrow at Galen, showing he recognized they were dealing with a hostile subject.

As Vance leaned against the stone fireplace, Galen picked up a ladder-back chair from the dining area and set it next to the couch. Inside her comfort zone.

Wisely staying out of the kill zone, Z took a chair at the other end of the couch and leaned back with his fingers steepled on his stomach. From his reserved expression, he’d intervene if he felt they were overstepping their bounds. And during the phone call, he’d made those bounds quite clear.

Galen straddled the chair, resting his forearms on the back. After giving Jessica a smile that wasn’t returned, he asked gently, “Did Sally tell you what happened?”

Her mouth opened. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the trap. This wasn’t a submissive who would lie to—or in front of—her Dom, so she couldn’t say, I haven’t seen her. But she would have no problem with evasions. “I’m sorry, but I believe conversations between friends are private.”

“Jessica, we’re worried about her,” Vance said, forcing her to split her attention between them. “Our lakeshore drive isn’t a safe area for a woman on foot at night. Can you, at least, tell us if you picked her up?”

“I don’t want to talk with you.” Her mouth turned mulish.

“I think that was a fair question, kitten,” Z murmured.

“Dammit,” she muttered and glared at Vance. “Yes, I picked her up. But she’s not anywhere on Shadowlands’ property. And she’s safe.”

Thank God. The tension in Galen’s chest eased slightly. Jessica wouldn’t say that unless she was sure. “Thank you, pet.”

“That’s all you’re going to get from me, even if he lets you beat me. You made her cry.”

The verbal hit sliced into Galen’s heart like a knife. “I did. And I’d like to apologize to her and make amends. Won’t you help us find her?”

“No. I won’t.” The glance she cast at Z was antagonistic. “No matter what he does.”

Oh hell. Now he’d caused trouble between two people he liked very much. The exhaustion weighing Galen down was joined by frustration and a goodly amount of despair. Everything he’d done in the last twenty-four hours had gone wrong.

But he could start by fixing this. Maybe.

He glanced at Vance and saw his partner was willing to let him take a stab at it. “Jessica. I’m sorry. Sorry if we created trouble between you two. Z is our friend, and he was trying to help us, much as you helped Sally. I’ve never met a more loyal man.”

Her gaze dropped.

“You can be angry at us, because we—I—hurt Sally, but Z is trapped like you, right in the middle. Please don’t be upset with him.”

When her lips trembled, Galen felt her unhappiness like another blow. He pushed to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

Vance walked over to crouch in front of Jessica. “You’re a good friend, sweetie. Sally is lucky to have you.”

She glanced at him and Galen. “You two are pretty effective, aren’t you? No wonder she had trouble resisting you.”

Galen’s spirits lifted slightly. Hopefully she still would.

Vance patted Jessica’s knee. “With such good friends, I’m surprised she’s not staying with one of you.”

“Well, she felt—” Jessica caught herself, and this time Vance received the you’re-a-cockroach-that-needs-to-be-squashed glare.

But the good-guy trick had worked. If Sally was at a friend’s, Jessica would probably have said, But she—rather than starting an explanation.

The imp might or might not be in town, but she wasn’t with one of her buddies.

Galen’s eyes narrowed. Just how far would Jessica go to help her buddy? He’d checked on Sally’s credit card…but they hadn’t checked anyone else’s.

Gotcha, imp.

Vance held his hand out to Jessica, not moving until she gave him her fingers. “I’m sorry for the trick, sweetheart. But we really are worried. I don’t know if she told you, but she did something that will get her targeted by the Harvest Association. That’s what we fought about.”

Jessica’s mouth formed an O. “Sally didn’t talk about why. Just said she’d caused problems, and it was time to leave.”

“Time to leave?” They’d just see about that.

Under a blue, blue sky, the green fields of Iowa rolled out as far as the eye could see. Sally took her time, smiling at the weathered farmhouses, the occasional dog barking and racing along a fence line, the peaceful cattle grazing in pastures.

Her plane had gotten into Des Moines yesterday. She’d planned to drive straight to the farm, but after fighting back her tears and anger, she’d known she couldn’t deal with her father. Instead, she’d holed up in a hotel for a night of weeping and throwing things.

Plastic hotel glasses hurled across the room? No satisfaction in that whatsoever. And what inconsiderate jerk had replaced heavy—breakable—coffee cups with Styrofoam? To hell with them.

And to hell with the Feebs too.

They were wrong. And Galen had no right to tell her what to do.

She could hack the Harvest Association e-mails if she wanted to. And she’d started before she’d moved in with them, anyway. And she’d saved women from being kidnapped. She’d done good. She’d been a hero.