Edge of Obsession (SKALS #3) (23 page)

H
ands braced against his desk, he pondered those claims carefully. Part of him felt responsible for his teammate’s conflict. From the beginning, he’d taught his men to think as he would, to search the fields and perimeters outside of the box. It seemed those efforts had served him well. Still, the man’s current mental state lent him serious pause. The last thing he needed was for Wes to cave. History had proven hysteria was a catching disease.

“It’s been suggested
Patrick James sold valuable security information and turned on his country. I would say that is reason enough to go after the man.”

“Sir, with all due respect, we have no proof in these allegations.”

“Yet,” Sebastian stated quietly. “Go home. Take another day or two off. Jackson is eager to learn. He can pick up your slack. I need you to come back to me with a clear head.”

“I don’t know that I can
. I can’t even sleep.”

Sebastian
rounded his desk and stared down at the man. Even his uniform was disheveled and askew on his semi-portly frame. That alone was enough to land him in a cell for another two days. Reaching down, he straightened one shoulder seam as best he could.

“Have I ever lead you astray
, Wesley?”

“No, sir,”
he said, giving an adamant shake of his head. “Never.”

“Then trust me. Trust me to do what is right for you and this team. Those steps may take some time but I assure you, if they become necessary, they will be taken. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, sir. I believe so.”

Taking note of the hope illuminating the man’s big brown eyes, Sebastian patted his
back. “Good. Go home and get some rest. We’ll talk more when you return.”

Pausing at the mirror, Taylor smoothed her hair back into place and ran an inquisitive hand over her silhouette. A worried frown flickered over her features. The past few weeks had taken a definite toll on her body, and this morning hadn’t helped matters any. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, worried someone was watching them again and where that interest might lead. One close call with death had been more than enough. She still couldn’t walk past the hallway leading to Sebastian’s office, or enter that room without thinking about Laychee or his men had done. The flashing light and explosions, gunfire, blood, and the invasion of cold steel entering her body did more than plague her dreams. They threatened to steal the sanity from her waking hours.

She’d barely managed to choke her breakfast down and kiss Sebastian goodbye before it all came tumbling out again. Exhaustion was a constant battle and it left its
shadowy calling card beneath her eyes. Deciding she’d done the best she could with her waning appearance, she pulled open the front doors and greeted Irene with a sunny smile.

The coppertop immediately swept her up in a
fierce embrace that squeezed the air from her lungs. Grimacing over her friend’s freckled shoulder, Taylor shot Rupert a comedic look of pleading. He grinned and acknowledged her request with a tip of his sunglasses.

“You look
very nice today, Ms. Irene.”

The redhead
released Taylor and spun on her stilettos, her face lighting in an unabashed show of pride. Smoothing her hands over her scrappy silver dress, she then plumped her girls which were already on prominent display. “Why thank you, Rupert,” she drawled sweetly. “I put a little extra effort in since I was coming to a house full of such handsome men.”

Placing a hand against her cheek, Taylor rapidly batted her eyes in imitation of a
n exaggerated Southern belle. The caricature made the big guard snort. Clearing his throat, he straightened and fought to regain his composure.

“Thank you for your kindness, Ma’am. Miss Taylor, I will be right outside if either of you ladies need me.”

“Thank you, Rupert.” Seeing Irene was far from budging, Taylor hooked her arm through her friend’s and tugged her across the threshold.

“Aw,
but honey I wasn’t done!” the busty waitress protested.

“Yes you are. You’re letting all of the cold air out of the house and poor Rupert doesn’t get paid enough to
ward off your advances.”

Laughing, Irene w
aved her off and sauntered through the foyer. “Something tells me that handsome lover of yours is more than generous where his wallet is concerned.”

Unc
omfortable with the assessment and uncertain how to respond, Taylor shrugged the comment off and made her way into the kitchen. Sun glinted off the stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops while she poured two glasses of sweet tea and slid one Irene’s way. The woman’s hazel gaze bore into her for a long moment before flickering away in disdain.

“You look like shit, Tay.”

Her mouth opened and snapped shut.

“
No offense, sweetie, but you do,” the redhead said, pausing to take a sip. Her eyes locked with Taylor’s above the rim of her glass and narrowed in suspicion. “You don’t have one of those eating disorders do you?”

“No!” she exclaimed
with more than a hint of annoyance. “Jesus, Irene. I eat, okay?”

“Okay.
So what’s going on with you?”

“
Nothing! The past few weeks have been rough enough as it is. I don’t need you coming over and pointing out every single one of my flaws. If that’s your intention today, just go home.”

“
There’s no need to get snippy about things. I’m just trying to look out for you. Maybe you should get yourself into a doctor. You can’t take care of a man of Sebastian’s caliber if you aren’t on your game.”

Taylor’s shoulders slumped at the hurt in the older woman’s voice. Despite her abrasive personality, Irene meant well.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just tired and oversensitive. Sebastian mentioned my weight the other day too and it hurt my feelings,” she admitted, picking at her thumbnail.

“I’m sure he’s just worried about you
, sugar. Real men like a little cushion on their women. If they were into flat chests and bony hips they’d chase after boys. Either way, it’s best to get yourself looked at before that handsome Fed’s eyes start to stray. It’s a brutal world out there. Believe me, if you don’t keep your man happy between the sheets, somebody else will.”

Taylor opened her mouth and closed it again.
Lowering her head, she rubbed at her temple. She’d been looking forward to Irene’s visit, and now she just wanted to curl up and take a nap. Turning her glass on the counter, she searched for a topic that wouldn’t make her want to scream. She jumped when the phone rang. Sebastian’s number was a saving grace, and she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of hope. Maybe he was on his way home. What she really wanted right now was one of his warm, cuddly hugs.

It rang again and she snatched it up, fumbling to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello,
baby. Are you okay?”

“
Yeah. I’m fine. My hands were a little wet,” she said breathlessly.

“We’
re going to have guests for dinner. Marx, Jackson, Josh and Monique,” he said briskly. She heard him cover the phone as a gruff voice rumbled in the background. Sebastian responded with a curt affirmation then returned. “Monique will head over shortly to help you prepare. Call her and coordinate the menu so she can pick up whatever you two need.”

Taylor opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but compliance tumbled out
instead. “Yes, Sebastian.”

“We will
see you at six o’clock.”

“Okay. I love you,” she
said, the words sounding more like a questioning whisper. The silence of a dead line met her in return. Biting her lip, she shook her head and hung up the phone. This couldn’t possibly be good.

“Is everything okay?”

Blowing out a sharp breath, she glanced at the clock. “Not really. Last minute change of plans. I have a big dinner to prep. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to do this another time.”

Irene’s ruby lips pursed. Smoothing her hands over her voluptuous hips, she shook her head. “Nonsense, Tay. You’re tired and not feeling well. Let me help you whip
things together.”

“I appre
ciate the offer, but Monique is already going to help and I need to call her to figure things out.”

The waitress
shot her a pointed look. “Look here, baby doll, I manned that kitchen long before you ever set one foot inside a diner. I know my way around a stove. Three sets of hands are even better. With all of us working together, we’ll get everything done in no time.”

Taylor chewed the inside of her cheek, searching for a polite way
to back out of things. There was a big difference between serving up food to hungry truckers and appeasing the more selective pallets of Sebastian and his men. Not to mention Marx. The mere thought of him assessing dinner was enough to make her panic. Her stomach swirled in a dangerous pitch.

“Irene, I would love for you to keep me
company, but I can’t…” she swallowed against a wave of bile, “I can’t let you stay.”

That was all she managed. Clamping a hand over her mouth,
Taylor made a mad scramble for the half bath off the kitchen. After a long night of worrying and her newfound fears over dinner, even the iced tea was too much for her nervous stomach to handle. It felt like hours passed as she clung to the toilet and rode out the violent spell of dry heaves.

She splashed some cold water on her face and gargled with the extra bottle of mouthwash she’d stashed in the medicine cabinet before wandering back out into the kitchen. Irene turned from the framed picture she’d been studying.
Taylor glanced at it with a pensive smile. Monique had snapped the photo at her birthday party. Sebastian looked even more handsome than usual, a huge dimpled grin carving his face, his eyes bright and creased beneath the rim of a tattered baseball cap as he stood with his arms wrapped around her waist. They both looked so happy. So in love. It had been the perfect day in so many ways. Frowning, she realized she’d give anything to go back there again.

“
I don’t care what you say,” Irene said, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m staying and, quite frankly, it’s obvious you don’t have the physical strength to toss me out so I suggest you get over it.”

“Irene…”

“I know, I know,” the redhead said, waving her off. “You don’t want me intruding on your fancy dinner party. Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here before anyone shows up. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Taylor whispered, her cheeks starting to flame. She hated the fact that her f
riend thought she could be so shallow and judgmental. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure what else she could call it. The truth was Irene was sassy and bold. She had no problems flaunting her sexuality, or voicing her opinions on any topic, no matter how unwelcome they might be. As refreshing as that change of pace was sometimes, it could make other people very uncomfortable, and it had little place in the strict, polished SKALS regieme. She sighed with an apologetic shake of her head, her eyes pleading for some measure of understanding.

“Irene, it’s a company dinner. It’s
business and honestly not my choice. I love you. You know that.”

“Whatever, hun. It’s no big deal. I understand.”

A little over three hours later, a delicious blend of freshly baked bread, homemade Marsala sauce, and pan seared chicken infused the house. Monique was shaking a dusting of confectioner’s sugar over a tray of lemon bars as Taylor chopped the rest of the lobster for the bisque. She turned and wiped the sweat from her brow as a thick billow of steam rolled across the kitchen and buffeted her skin.

“These potatoes should be done soon,” Irene said, jabbing one
of the baby reds with a fork. “I’ve got to hand it to you girls. You two sure know how to throw together one hellacious meal. Everything smells divine.”

Monique colored and gave a polite smile. “
Thank you. It was a lot of work, but it should go over well.”

“Should?” she exclaimed with no small measure of disbelief. “No offense, honey, but you two are working yourselves to death for no reason. Most men
are more than happy to sit down to a warm slab of meat and a hunk of potatoes after a long day.”

The blonde gave an embarrassed shrug.
Taylor wiped her hands on the dishtowel slung over her shoulder and scraped the chunked lobster meat into the pot.

“
That’s true, and Seb is usually pretty easy to please, but he’s bringing his boss home tonight. It doesn’t hurt to take a few extra steps to impress the man.”

She could almost see the wheels churning. Irene placed the lid back on the potatoes with the beginnings of a coy smile playing on her lips. “This guy must be a pretty big deal to warrant such a fancy meal.”

“He is a very important man, yes,” Monique said. “But it is also a dinner party. A certain amount of finesse is expected.”

“Well aren’t we all hoity toity?”

Monique’s lips flattened into a grim press. A brief spark of hurt and anger flared in her bright green eyes and her back straightened as she turned back to the desserts.