Red Sole Clues (23 page)

He bit back a sigh and nodded. He’d take her to see Ryan’s body if that’s what she needed. God help him, he’d do it for her.

*     *     *

Lily was exhausted
as Carter led her to the car. The morgue
had
been too much. But she’d needed the closure that the visit had given her. Seeing Ryan had been hard. No, more than hard. It had been disturbing on levels she couldn’t even begin to describe. She was so glad Carter had been standing next to her, adding his strength to hers.

And now, as he shut the door to her side of the car and jogged around to his, it dawned on her. She had no place to go. Her grandfather had recently moved to a nursing home, so staying with him wasn’t an option. She couldn’t go to her place. Even if she got the blood cleaned up, she would still see it. She would know that it had covered the walls, floors, and everything else in there the day before. She couldn’t face that.

She supposed she could go to the clinic. She had a small couch in the employee lounge. It would be a bit awkward when her employees figured out she was living in the back room, but what choice did she have?

“Can you drop me off at the clinic?”

The look he gave her would have been comical in any other situation. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I’ll take you to my house until you find a new place.”

Lily felt tears battling to break through, but she clawed at her resolve to keep them from falling. She wouldn’t let this throw her and Carter together in a way they weren’t ready for yet. She was hurt and vulnerable and scared senseless, but that didn’t mean she should compound the problems she was facing by letting herself trust this guy. By letting herself believe that they were more than they were. Letting herself believe in
them.
She knew better than that.

Carter eyed her as he steered the car to the side of the road, stopping on the shoulder. Lily kept her eyes pinned to the windshield. She wouldn’t let him talk her into this. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t believe in a man again and have him leave. As if reading her mind, he began talking.

“I’m not going to tell you I’m not leaving. I won’t tell you I love you or say I need commitment from you. I won’t ask you to believe in me or believe in us, Lily.”

He paused and she had to battle the urge to turn and look at him as she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She ignored it. She locked onto the road in front of her and clamped her hands together in her lap.

He threaded his hand through her hair and gently turned her to look at him. “I’ll
show
you, Lily. Every day. I’ll just show up every damned day and be there for you, be
with
you. Two, three, four years from now, if I’m lucky, you’ll know I’m not going away.”

Lily felt like she might hyperventilate, but she looked into his eyes and let herself fall. Maybe it wasn’t so much that she let herself. It was more like she acknowledged there wasn’t any use fighting anymore. She’d fallen for him, heart, body, and soul, long before this.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. Just pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, then turned and started the car again. “We can look for a new place for you in the morning. For now, you’ll be safe at my place and I’ll sleep better knowing I’m there if you wake up with a bad dream.”

His gaze held hers and he slowly slid his hand to the nape of her neck. The sensation danced up her spine, then zinged through her body as his lips found hers. Soft at first, just a little pressure. When her hands found his shoulders, he murmured and pulled her closer, and her body responded as though he’d laid her down and stripped her. He nipped and teased and she melted into the kiss, wanting more, and knowing he’d give her just what she needed. He would wait, too, if she asked him to. That knowledge was empowering. It seemed to unlock a piece of her, letting her believe. Letting her have the faith she needed if she was going to stop being a slave to the men who’d left her behind. Stop being a slave to their memories.

When Carter pulled back, she felt his absence, but the seductive look in his eyes told her the separation wouldn’t be a long one. He turned without a word and put the car in gear. Lily watched his profile as he drove, loving that he wasn’t pushing her to move in simply because circumstances said she needed a place to stay for a while. He was giving her what she needed—assurance that he wasn’t going to push her to make this arrangement permanent before she was ready for it. But that’s the way he was. He
got
her. He understood what she needed, often before she even knew she needed it. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She didn’t think there would be more tears tonight. She was done crying for a while.

She let herself trust. She let herself live in the moment and know, for now, it was okay to rely on Carter. To rely on the strength of them together. The breath she took in that moment felt deeper, better, than any she’d felt in a long time. In that moment, Lily knew she didn’t want to live in the shadows of the past. Just because her exes had left, didn’t mean she should never trust again. She wouldn’t live a half-life any longer. She’d let herself believe in Carter and the happiness they could have together from this point on. If it didn’t last, she’d deal with that later. But she wouldn’t live in fear any longer.

Lily took Carter’s hand as he drove, and he turned to throw a quick wink and smile her way before focusing on the road. Lily let the smile that came from deep in her heart break free. Today was a good day. And that was what mattered right now. Today.

The End

Thank you for taking the time to read one of my books! You have no idea how much each of my readers mean to me. Visit
www.LoriRyanRomance.com
to find all of my books or for links to follow me on Facebook and Twitter. And, always feel free to drop me a line! I love hearing from readers!

Lori Ryan is a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes contemporary romance with a twist of suspense. She lives with an extremely understanding husband, three wonderful children, two mostly-behaved dogs, and a lone little cat in Austin, Texas. It’s a bit of a zoo, but she wouldn’t change a thing.

Lori loves to connect with her readers. Follow her on Facebook or Twitter or subscribe to her blog. Oh, and if you’ve read Lori’s books and loved them, please consider leaving a review with the retailer of your choice. Writers live and die by their reviews and Lori promises to do a happy dance around her office every time you write one!

Website:

loriryanromance.com

Facebook:

facebook.com/loriryanromance

Twitter:

twitter.com/Loriryanauthor

Pinterest:

pinterest.com/loriryanauthor

Instagram:

instagram.com/loriryanauthor

If you enjoyed reading Honor and Protect, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.

Lend it
. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.

Recommend it.
Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.

Review it.
Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it. Or visit my
website
.

Newsletter

Newsletter signup:
loriryanromance.com

Heroes of Evers, Texas Series

Love and Protect

Promise and Protect

Serve and Protect

The Target Series

Copyright © 2016 by Marquita Valentine

When former MI-6 Agent Maxim Romanov’s estranged wife is kidnapped by a madman, he has less than twenty-four hours to save her life, or lose her forever.

Maxim

SIS Headquarters

London, England

M
y entire life’s
work is a joke.

Save the world.
Check
.

Turn over the potential pandemic to proper authorities.
Check
.

Work with the
Bratva
to get this done.
Check
.

Piss off everyone known to God and man for doing so.
Check and Mate
.

To keep an impassive face while these nutters drag me through the mud is nearly impossible, but I must maintain outward control at all costs. No reason to give them more ammunition against me.

“—ignored your directive—”

“—knowingly consorted with persons of questionable background—”

“That’s the majority of parliament, ma’am,” I counter.

A few titter in their seats, from their positions of power.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. Romanov?” Madam Beake asks. Her glasses cast shadows on her face, giving it a slightly owlish effect.

At that very moment, a partially hidden door slides opens and in walks a gorgeous woman holding a stack of folders. She peers at me with knowing eyes.

Of course
she’s
here to witness this embarrassing cockup of a trial.

“Is there anything I
can
say?” I sit up a little. No need to be ashamed of getting the sack. I’ve only devoted the last twelve years of my life to the damned organization.

“No need to take the piss, Maxim,” another board member chastises. “You are being dismissed without prejudice.”

“Except you’ve put in my permanent folder that I conspired with dangerous entities in order to take down the head of the Wraith organization, vigilante style,” I point out.

“Is any of that untrue?” Beake asks.

“My mission was to acquire the virus and vaccine,
by any means necessary
.”

“Like working with a criminal organization? Specifically, your family, the same family you swore to have cut all ties with?”

My jaw clenches. “If any situation called for it, and I think we can all agree this situation called for it. Hell, it’s in the bloody advert for the job. Engage and establish rapport, work with a range of people from various backgrounds. Shall I go on?”

The board eyes me as one unit, their displeasure rolling off of them in waves.

“Be that as it may, Mr. Romanov, you are no longer an agent with SIS. Turn in your identification, your gun, and any other effects issued by the organization by the end of the workday.”

Madam Beake raps a gavel on the desk. The sound echoes in the chamber like a gunshot. “That is all.”

“Why wait until then?” I toss my ID on the table in front of me, then grab my gun from my holster.

There is a collective gasp. Guards posted on each end of the table take a step forward.

“You can’t think I want to…” I slowly place the weapon on the table. “The keys to my vehicle are on my desk. I’ll take the tube home.”

I don’t wait for them to leave before I quit the room. There’s no need to give them the respect they think they deserve when they’ve stripped me of everything. When I’ve given them everything.
Lost
everything.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find
her
still standing there. Her cheeks are bright and her face is pale under her light brown skin. She looks outraged, but I know it’s not on my behalf. Once again, I’ve disappointed her. Embarrassed her.

Tipping up her chin, she clenches the folders tighter to her chest.

“Sorry to disappoint, darling,” I murmur.

Golden-colored eyes narrow in on me, as if she heard my softly spoken apology. Not that it matters. A thousand apologies wouldn’t fix things between us.

“Romanov, you will not leave this room before—”

“Bugger off.” I shove the double doors open. “This is not the organization I joined.”

*     *     *

Instead of taking
the tube, I walk to my flat. For one, I’m not much company, and I’m not exactly keen to be crammed like a sardine in a tin during maximum capacity hours.

I stare at the door of my flat for a moment. When I open it, there won’t be anyone on the other side to comfort me, to assure me that all’s right with the world, and to insist that the board members don’t know their arse from a hole in the ground.

Exhaling, I unlock the door and head inside.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I would have been greeted with open arms and loving kisses, but I chose SIS over Philippa. I chose my pride, unwilling to work for her father.

My empty flat greets me, the lone, flower-print sofa mocking me. All that’s left of my marriage is that damnable sofa.

Carefully, I place my mobile and keys in their usual spot before heading straight to the bedroom to change. I’d like to say that the life of an agent—former agent—is exciting and glamorous, but I sincerely doubt my plan to eat spaghetti bolognese in my boxers while I watch
The Graham Norton Show
is anyone’s dream.

The sight of a familiar pair of black shoes with red soles stops me in my tracks. Louboutins. Only one woman I know wears those.

Keeping calm, I palm the gun that I keep hidden in my jacket pocket. It’s lightweight, made of plastic, and is good for more than one shot.

“Pippa?” I call out. “Have you come to pay a visit?”

No one answers me. I edge closer to the bed and my stomach drops. There at the end is her favorite pair of Louboutins. Picking up the pink shoes, I examine them and find a note stuck to the sole.

My dearest Maxim,

Your presence is required at St. James Cathedral to celebrate my release, Thursday, the Twenty-Third Day of May.

Hors d’oeuvres will be promptly served at half past three.

Fireworks to follow reception.

Jonathan Ackerman