Page 4 of The Negotiator

Chapter Two

Hours later Garrett walked next to Lauren on their way back to her house after picking up takeout Thai food from a place a few streets away. To him delivery had sounded sensible but he lost that battle when she’d insisted on getting out for a few minutes. He now knew that was code for walking until Garrett’s balls freeze.

He’d been in town for about an hour and they still hadn’t talked about it. Carl stepping back into her life understandably threw her off, made her more quiet than usual. Since arriving Garrett had gotten little more than a steady drumbeat of silence from her.

She wasn’t ready to talk. Fine, he got that. Having a not-so-dead husband spring up, making demands, had to be a shock. Garrett wasn’t handling the news that much better. The killing rage inside him had subsided but the idea of punching Carl in the face still sounded good. He’d already called Wren and put him on this Carl guy’s trail.

If Carl thought he was just going to pop up and rekindle his stalled marriage... Jesus, Garrett didn’t even want to think about that. His relationship, or whatever it was, with Lauren had barely moved past “Go” but damn if he didn’t want to fast-forward them to something beyond friends who saw each other once or twice a week and texted every day.

Hell, he dreamed about her. Thought about her out on that boat and working on the marina and it was all he could do not to bolt from his office an hour away and come see her. A strange unseen string connected them. He didn’t get it, couldn’t explain it, but he’d experienced her fierce loyalty and stark determination up close and he wanted to see more.

The biting December wind nipped at his skin through his black driving gloves as they walked. His boots thudded on the pavement as the heavy scent of burning firewood hung in the air. He’d bet every house on the street put their fireplace to use tonight.

It was after eight and dark clouds filled the sky. He figured there would never be a better time to launch into an unwanted conversation, so he took the plunge. “What did Carl say when he came to the house?”

She sighed as she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. “Nothing.”

They were one question into this topic and already it was sputtering out. “I’m betting that’s not true.”

Her focus stayed on the sidewalk in front of her. “We didn’t talk about anything.”

Garrett bit back his annoyance as he stopped. The move forced her to face him, which was exactly what he wanted. “You’re saying that your not-so-dead husband showed up alive and well and talking and shit, and then—what?—just stared at you?”

“Of course not.” She bit her bottom lip as her glance grazed his chin then wandered off into the distance behind him. “And technically, he’s not my husband.”

Yeah, he had some bad news for her on that. “We’ll come back to your marital status in a second.”

She made a hissing sound. “Lucky me.”

Pain echoed in her voice. She rocked back on the heels of her sturdy work boots but didn’t bolt as he expected. He knew from his frequent visits to see her and their time out on her boat and the hours spent at the diner dive by her office drinking coffee that she didn’t exactly do well with confrontation. He had known her for more than six months, had asked her out on a real date about three months ago and had settled for spending time with her pretending not to date ever since.

She was practical and driven and so hot she made his brain shut down. The combination of the shoulder-length blond hair she generally wore pulled back in a ponytail and those big brown watchful eyes burned through his usual defenses. Sleek, sexy muscles earned from hours of hard work on the boat had his mind spinning with how good she would feel—taste—if he ever got her naked. Even now, deep into cooler weather, her smooth skin carried a hint of a tan and he ached to see the tan lines under her clothes.

Growing up he might have called her a tomboy. He was a dumbass back then. Self-involved and caught up in sports and being popular and shit that stopped mattering to him more than a decade ago. He had just turned thirty-one and was smarter now, or so he liked to think.

He looked at her and saw this ass-kicking mix of athletic, powerful and so fucking feminine. She had it all. Stunning face. Full lips. Eyes that telegraphed intelligence and experience and a sort of hard earned wariness. Smoking hot body. Killer legs. He was in for all of it.

He appreciated women who knew what they wanted and fought for it. He was fine with messy and difficult. The idea of dating someone who agreed with everything he said or hung on his every word bored him. Other guys liked that and good for them. He craved a challenge. From the first time he met her, he wanted to learn more about what shaped who she was and how she thought about things. And touch her. Sweet hell, he really wanted to touch her. But not tonight. Maybe not soon thanks to her idiot husband and his piss-poor timing.

“Walk me through his visit. The guy comes to your door and...?” Garrett started walking again. She kept step with his long strides but she didn’t say a thing. “The dramatic pause is your cue to talk, by the way. What happened next, Lauren?”

“He wanted in the house. He talked about coming back to work.” She made a noise that sounded like a frustrated groan. “Basically, he talked to me like a demanding, jerky boss would talk to one of his employees.”

Garrett’s hand tightened on the handle of the takeout bag. “So he’s still an asshole.”

She glanced over at him and smiled. “I never told you he was an asshole.”

As if Garrett needed to be walked through that definition. “He pretended to be dead and screwed you both financially and emotionally. The asshole part is implied.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. It was the first glimpse of lightness since they’d exchanged texts hours ago. “In the past five minutes you’ve talked more about him and said more negative things than in the entire six months I’ve known you.”

They’d met when he was in town on an assignment connected to her best friend, Kayla. She had been the one to mention Lauren’s “missing” husband. Garrett had tiptoed around the subject of Carl ever since because Lauren had insisted right up until her surprise he’s-alive text that Carl was dead. The reality was people generally didn’t disappear at sea and Carl was more experienced than most, which made it even less likely for him.

Garrett knew how fraud worked. He worked for a company that collected information and solved problems. He was second in command to the man people called when they needed confidential assistance. Washington, D.C.’s elusive and mysterious fixer, Levi Wren, known to only a few and even then known only as Wren. The position provided Garrett with a front row to investigation intel, and he knew that as far as ways to die went, disappearing into the sea was a suspect one. But when it came to leaving your spouse and running out on a lot of debt, it seemed to be many people’s bizarrely ineffective go-to plan.

They turned the corner and started down her street. They were only a few houses away, which was good because grayish-white puffy clouds filled the sky and the air hinted at incoming snow. His feet were frozen. He’d been packed for a trip to California and not really thinking about facing this weather.

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