Page 29 of The Negotiator

Opening her eyes, the hotel’s white ceiling came into focus. Her fingers played with the damp ends of his hair. The way he sprawled over her anchored her. She felt complete and satisfied and more than a little punch drunk from the whip of adrenaline that was only now dying down.

She’d suspected it would be like this with him. Right and a little abandoned. Totally free and accepting. Garrett was one of the few people she’d ever met who didn’t disappoint her. He was exactly who he promised to be, beginning to end. She loved that about him.

The word floated through her mind and the exhaustion fled. No, not that. She’d been careful, even in her marriage, not to fall hard. She stayed in control, and that was certainly required with Garrett, the guy who held back as much as she did.

His past was a mix of memories and danger. None of that scared her. If anything, it reassured her that he could handle almost anything. For once, maybe she didn’t have to be the adult. But this was fun.

Fun only.She repeated that mantra in her mind.

He lifted up and balanced his weight over her on his elbows. “What are you thinking about?”

The question caught her off guard. “What?”

“I can almost feel you thinking.”

“That’s not a thing.” At least she hoped not.

He shifted to the side, easing out of her and taking some of his weight off her. “Honestly? You started making these strained noises. I think I could hear them because I was on top of you, but I’m guessing you weren’t thinking about getting something to eat. Though I’m game, if you’re wondering.”

“May I ask you something?” She didn’t have the right and she wasn’t dying to know, but the more time they spent together the more she wanted to collect these pieces of him. Gather one here and one there until she had an image of the whole man in front of her. Not just what he wanted to show her, but who he really was. She knew from experience those could be two very different things.

He winced. “Experience tells me when someone asks for permission first, the question is going to carry a wallop, but go ahead.”

“It’s about the killing.”

He rested his head on his palm and watched her. “Carl?”

“You.”

“Wait.” His hand dropped to his side. “What are we talking about?”

“You’ve hinted that... well, in your past...”

This time he shifted until he sat up, leaning against the pillows. “Are you asking if I’ve killed people?”

With the sheets wrapped around her, she eased up to sit next to him, careful not to touch him in case he didn’t want to be touched. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re familiar with killing.”

“You are strangely calm about this topic.”

She put her hand on his lap and sighed with relief when he slipped his fingers through hers. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re trying not to ask.”

“Why?”

“Why?”He continued to stare at her despite her stunned response, not showing any signs of explaining the question, so she tried another tact. “I’ve lived my entire adult life detached after spending every year before that as the only responsible one in my household.”

His body came alive then. He didn’t move, but energy pounded off him. He was interested and engaged. “What about your parents?”

“My dad was long gone by the time I could talk.” That was the easy part. “My mom... uh...”

He squeezed her hand. “Would it be easier if you knew when I first met you I had a file on you?”

She shifted to face him. “Meaning?”

“It’s part of what I do for Wren. I collect information.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and placed a quick kiss on the back of hers. “I know your mom died when you were seventeen.”

“Do you know the details?”

“I didn’t look. Didn’t think they were relevant.”

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