Page 7 of Fast Justice

There was so much more to her than her profession.

In the short time they’d dated he’d gotten to know the other her, see some of the softer layers hidden beneath that professional exterior. Her dry sense of humor, how impassioned she became when she talked about something that excited her. She was smart and kind. The way she’d smiled whenever he reached for her hand or wrapped his arm around her.

The woman in front of him now was determined, driven and self-assured. A little cool and reserved. Sexy as hell in her own right. But the woman he’d gotten to know a year ago, the one who had laughed with him, clung to him and melted under his kisses…she was beautiful, inside and out. He missed her.

She’d kept the keychain. He’d noticed it as soon as he’d leaned over to get her insurance papers this morning. It was just a damn keychain, had cost him five bucks. Yet she’d kept it this whole time. Why? It wasn’t because she hadn’t noticed or was too lazy to throw it away. Rowan was as hard working as they came, and didn’t do anything by accident.

Sitting here across from her was a special kind of torture. She was sore from the accident, he could see it in her restricted movements, the way she kept rubbing at the back of her neck. His natural inclination was to help somehow. He would have run to help anyone involved in the accident this morning, but when he’d seen her car get rear-ended and then that asshole slam into her passenger side before taking off, all his protective instincts had roared to the surface, strong as ever.

He’d tried to tell himself he was over her, and had been for many months. Now he realized he had to call bullshit on that. She was the one who got away. He still cared. Still wanted her, even if she didn’t want him. And that wanting wasn’t going away anytime soon, no matter how much he wished it would.

Showing the first signs of discomfort under the weight of his stare, Rowan cleared her throat and pulled a bottle of pain relievers from her purse. He bit back the words of concern he wanted to say, along with the urge to go around the table to knead the sore muscles in her neck and shoulders. She wasn’t his, hadn’t been for a long time.

Hell, she’d never really been his in the first place.

All the old questions he’d tormented himself with in the weeks after she’d broken up with him came rushing back now as he watched her down the pills with a few sips from her bottle of water. Did she miss him? Think of him at all? Regret her decision even a little?

Right from the start he had known how special she was, that she was different from any other woman he’d ever dated. He’d been ready to dive headfirst into their relationship, give himself completely to her. Then bam. She’d pulled the plug, and to him it had seemed so damn easy for her to walk away.

He hadn’t seen it coming. Still couldn’t understand why she’d done it.

Rowan was the first woman he’d been with whom he could see himself having a future with, and the first one who had known what he did for a living. She understood what his job entailed, the effort and sacrifices it took to be a FAST member. Her rejection had stung not only his male ego, but hurt him more than he’d ever admit to anyone, triggering all the old insecurities he’d carried around as a kid.

He stared at her now, wishing he could see what was going on in her head.Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

Deep down he’d already feared he wasn’t when he’d asked her out. Her breaking up with him so suddenly had confirmed it, and worse, that she obviously didn’t think he was good enough for her either.

Mal kept his expression impassive as she set the water down and made an attempt at small talk. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s good. How are your grandparents?” she asked in her soft Georgia drawl. He’d always loved the sound of it.

Maybe small talk was a bad idea. He had no interest in talking about personal shit with her. Just like he no longer had the right to be involved in her life, she didn’t have the right to know about his. “They’re both fine.”

Her smile was a little strained. “That’s good.”

He nodded once. He’d grown up in a rough neighborhood in Detroit. After his mother had died of complications due to diabetes, her parents had taken him in. They’d been strict. Pops was a preacher who demanded integrity and high standards in everything from manners to school to how Mal treated people. He’d been tough but fair, and ultimately was responsible for Mal becoming the man he was today. And even though he’d overcome the odds and made a success of his life, Rowan dumping him brought it all back.

“Your whole team must be extra busy with all these meetings and interviews we’re adding to your load, huh?” she asked.

“It’s fine.” What the hell was taking Taggart and her boss so long? Christ, he just wanted the hell out of here. Being forced to see her, talk with her, especially alone, made it seem like there was a concrete slab sitting on his ribcage.

She opened her mouth to say something else, and relief swept through him when her boss walked back in. “Thanks for coming in, Agent Freeman. I think we’ve got what we need for now.” Val’s gaze shifted to Rowan. “You up for a meeting over at the prison?”

Rowan hid her surprise well, shoving the bottle of pills into her purse as though they were some sign of weakness. “Yes. Why?”

“Ruiz wants to see us. He wants to see what kind of deal we can offer him.”

“All right.” She was up and clearing her things off the table in a heartbeat, only a subtle stiffness in her movements giving away her physical discomfort. Then those gorgeous eyes met Mal’s, and his damn heart squeezed at the flicker of wistfulness there. As though the thought of not seeing him again made her sad. But why the hell would that be, when she’d been the one to walk away? “Bye. It was good to see you.”

For his sake, he hoped it would be the last time. “Yeah, you too.”

When the door shut behind her, Mal expelled a long breath. Their paths probably wouldn’t cross again anytime soon.

This ache in his chest was only temporary, so he wasn’t going to waste time torturing himself thinking about what might have been. He wasn’t going to wish things were different. Or wish that he could be there for her tonight. Drive her home. Make her dinner. Rub her neck and shoulders. Put her in a hot bath before tucking her into bed beside him. Take care of her.

He wasn’t going to wish she washis.

In fact, starting right now, he wasn’t going to think about her at all anymore.

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