Page 5 of Critical Doubt

"Good, then I won't feel guilty about that."

"You shouldn't be feeling guilty about anything."

"These days, guilt seems to be my middle name."

"Well, we're going to change that."

"Are you coming in?"

"I'll be inside in a minute. I just need to make a quick call." After Abby left, she let out a breath, not bothering to get her phone from her bag. She didn't have a call to make; she just needed to get her head together. The details of Paul's death, the last few weeks of his life, the problems in the marriage were all much worse than she'd realized. Now she was the one feeling guilty for not having kept up with Abby's life. But she would do better now. She would do everything she could to get Abby through this.

She just wanted the memorial to be over, so she wouldn't have anyone else to worry about but Abby. But at the moment, she was still dreading the idea of running into her father or her cousin and having to deal with old family business. And then there was Ryker…

She hadn't yet let herself think about him, but as she stood in the cooling, late afternoon air, she felt a rush of warmth as his image filled her head. She wasn't seeing the man who had looked like he wanted to kill her a few minutes ago, but rather the guy in the hotel bar with the compelling brown eyes, scruffy beard, and sexy mouth. He'd given her a confident, I'm-on-top-of-the-world smile and asked her to join him for a drink, and there was no way she could have said no. Because that night, that moment in her life, she'd felt completely adrift, lost between one world and the next, and she'd wanted a third option, an escape, a time-out from the pressures of trying to decide her life. Ryker had given her exactly what she needed in so many ways.

It hadn't been easy to leave his bed before dawn. A big part of her had wanted to stay, to talk, to share names and stories, to have breakfast, maybe lunch, perhaps even another night. But they were ships passing in the night. He was going one way; she was going the other. So, she'd left and for some reason doing that, taking that action, actually made everything else fall into place.

It might have just been a one-night stand for Ryker, but for her it had been a lot more. In some small way, she'd taken back some of her power, and she'd been able to make the hard choices that had been dogging her for a long time.

She'd never thought she'd see him again. Actually, that wasn't completely true. When she'd realized he was friends with Paul, she'd thought there was a chance their paths might intersect once more, but she'd never imagined it would be like this, on a very, very sad day.

Ryker had looked awful, a shadow of himself. He'd lost weight. He was paler than he had been, but it was in his eyes that she'd really seen the change. There had been sadness, anger, grief, and, strangely enough, uncertainty. He'd probably been the cockiest man in the bar the night they'd met, and she'd found his confidence inspiring. But today it felt like he was the one who was adrift.

She knew he'd been injured in the ambush and that he'd had to leave the army. He'd lost two friends—make that three now. He was definitely no longer on top of the world, and a part of her wished she could do something about that. But her focus had to be on Abby and Tyler. Ryker would have to deal with his issues on his own.

In reality, they barely knew each other. He had his life and she had hers. They couldn't go back in time and recreate that magical night. It needed to just stay a happy memory.

As she turned to go back inside, she froze, her happy memory materializing in front of her in a very real, very physical way. Ryker might be a shadow of his former self, but he still made her heart beat faster.

"I was just on my way in," she said, even though he hadn't asked what she was doing.

"Before you go, let's talk."

"Why?"

"Why not?" he countered.

"I'm here for Abby."

"But Abby isn't here, and you are. She can do without you for a couple of minutes."

"I don't want to talk about that night."

"Then let's talk about now. You said you weren't a dancer. What do you do, Savannah? Who are you?"

She stared back at him, not sure why she was hesitating. She was proud of herself. She was living her own life and no one else's. "I'm a special agent with the FBI."

His jaw dropped and wonder entered his eyes. "Well, I was not expecting that. You're serious?"

"Do you want me to show you my badge?"

"Were you FBI the night we met?"

"No. I was a soldier. I was on leave from my job in Army intelligence in Kuwait."

More surprise ran through his eyes. "Why did you let me think you were one of the dancers?"

She thought about that. The answer was really very simple, and it was a pattern she'd lived too many times in her life. "You wanted me to be one of those women. I gave you what you wanted."

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