Page 68 of End Game

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Ash paced inside the circle of the veteran’s memorial near Pack Square Park. Not far from where he’d first spotted Kayla at a picnic table, packing baskets for a generation often forgotten or who found themselves alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

He thought of Grams, of how long it had been since his last visit, and vowed to see her on his next day off.

Checking the clock on his phone, he groaned. Minutes ticked by with all the speed of a slug race.

An inner monologue revved up until it became a hammer inside his head. This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

Two women watching over a clutch of barefooted children romping through a geiser-like splash fountain eyed him with more and more wariness. He knew he should sit down, be calm, and stop frightening the park users, but a nervous energy had taken over his movements and he couldn’t seem to regain control.

He’d had more finesse in middle school, asking Mindy Wyatt to the school dance, than he had smoothing things over with the lobbyist after their explosive kiss and his cutting words.

What had gotten into him? Special agents don’t get involved with witnesses. Yet he’d crossed the line. Hell, he’d leaped over it headfirst.

Eighteen hours later, and he still couldn’t muster a proper apology or an appropriate amount of regret for the kiss. His shitty comment was another story.

The best outcome he could hope for was Kayla agreeing to forming a platonic, noncombative working relationship, until he—or one of his colleagues—tracked down the killer.

“I didn’t realize they allowed tigers in the park,” a flat female voice said from behind him.

Ash stopped his prowling and turned to face Kayla. Even dressed in a no-nonsense business pantsuit, she looked amazing.

Kissable.

Beddable.

He blinked the get-your-ass-in-trouble thoughts away and nodded at Wade, who stood sentinel several yards away, before addressing the lobbyist. “Thank you for agreeing to a last-minute meeting.”

“It’s a last-minute kind of day.” She sat on a granite bench and clasped her hands loosely in her lap. “Do you have news to share? Or are you about to attempt another non-excuse for kissing me?” Her eyes dug into his. “Or an apology?”

He grasped the base of his skull as if he could squeeze out the right words. “All three, I guess.”

A blond eyebrow rose. “You guess?”

His hand dropped back to his side. “All, dammit.”

“How about I knock the list down for you.”

“By all means.”

“As with last night, I have no interest in hearing your apologies or assurances that you won’t kiss me again.” Her mouth curved into a secretive smile. “You know as well as I do that we’ve been circling each other since we first met and, if an opportunity presents itself, we’ll be naked and consumed.”

Ash went hard and aching, in an instant. If they’d been alone, he would have ensured her prediction came true. He buttoned his suit jacket, despite the warm March day. “You cannot say shit like that with little kids around.”

Her gaze flicked down to watch his movements and her smile widened. “I noticed you didn’t disagree with my assessment.”

“You know how much I enjoyed our kiss?” He moved closer. Lowered his voice. “How badly I want it to happen again?” Her amusement dimmed, and he took unbelievable pleasure in the effect his words had on her. “What it did to me last night as I lay in bed with nothing but the memory to keep me company?”

She swallowed and sat straighter.

“For now, I’ll keep it professional,” he continued, having no intention of doing so. She’d opened Pandora’s box, and he was keen to see what was inside. To hell with the Bureau’s code of conduct. “But I do want to apologize for lashing out at you last night. No excuses. I lost my head for a second.”

“Apology accepted.”

He raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“What did you expect? That I would hurt you in kind? Make you grovel to win my forgiveness?”

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