Code Name Read online

  “I understand,” I reply woodenly. “And I’ve got my own stuff to do. All the reactor testing is actually going to be out in California. I’ll need to be present for that.”

  “I know,” he replies softly. “It’s just a tough time for us right now.”

  “We’ll survive it,” I reply brightly.

  Cruce studies me with a long hard look deep into my eyes, as if he’s trying to fathom what I might mean in those cryptic words. “We’ll absolutely survive it. I promise.”

  A smile plastered to my face, I just stare. I’d survived torture and near rape, so I know I can survive if it doesn’t work out between Cruce and me.

  Placing my hand on his chest, I lean over and brush my lips lightly against his. When I pull back, I don’t bother looking at him. Instead, I roll off the bed with a murmured, “I’m going to take a shower before heading into the lab.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  CHAPTER 26

  Cruce

  I bang my fist on the desk, frustrated I can’t concentrate on the fucking report I’m supposed to be writing. Kynan’s a stickler for paperwork, and I have to recount my entire mission from start to finish in a lengthy document that will get placed in a permanent file.

  I suppose that’s good news.

  I still have a job here at Jameson, which surprises me. Not only had I managed to get our client captured on my watch, but I’d also murdered a man in cold blood because of personal reasons that had nothing to do with safety or self-defense.

  That right there was more than enough reason for a justifiable termination if there ever was one, but for some reason… Kynan welcomed me back to headquarters with open arms and a knowing smile.

  I know what it means. He’d been in the same exact situation—his woman’s tormentor within his grasp and a burning deep in his gut to end his miserable life.

  Kynan merely made a different choice than I had, but it doesn’t mean he thinks it was the right choice. I can see within his eyes he has a bit of respect for what I did. Perhaps even a little bit of envy. As it stands, Joslyn’s stalker will be in prison for the rest of his life, but that doesn’t make Kynan sleep any better at night. He’d prefer the man fade from existence—of that, I have no doubt.

  “What did that desk ever do to you?” Saint asks from two desks over. He’s been playing a computer game for the last fifteen minutes. Besides that, he’s gearing up for a mission he and Kynan have been discussing, yet I have no clue if I’ll be called in to help on it or not. It’s not been shared with me.

  “Nothing,” I mutter.

  “In a pissy mood because you don’t have your girl by your side?” he presses.

  I snap my head up with a glare. “Why don’t you just play your game and mind your own business? Or better yet, don’t you have some new mission to get ready for?”

  When Saint grins, I return to my computer screen, trying to orient myself back to the task of completing this summary of events. I’m working on our time together at the island. While I need to report significant things like my daily perimeter checks and equipment monitoring, all I can think about are the precious moments I had with Barrett.

  Watching over her while she had her nose pressed against her laptop screen or in bed with her at night, fighting crazy attraction and lustful dreams. Cooking meals for her and worrying over her.

  Taking her out on the boat, watching her fight against relaxation because she just wasn’t sure how to do it, but once she got it… she’d been so beautiful and free.

  “Seriously… what’s going on with you?” Saint says as he sits his ass on the corner on my desk. He’s wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt, something that looks completely weird on the guy because if he’s not in our working utilityuniform, then he’s wearing three-piece suits.

  I want to shove him off my desk and tell him to fuck off, but I don’t.

  I don’t because the guy has become a good friend to me over a short period of time. He never hesitated in following me into Munford’s house, not knowing if he’d face a hail of bullets or not. He was as committed to saving Barrett as anyone at Jameson.

  Sighing, I scrub my hands through my hair and lean back in my chair, which rolls slightly away from the desk. Hands clamped to the armrests, I look up. “I don’t know what to do about Barrett.”

  “What are the choices?” he asks.

  “Well, I’m here and she’s there,” I reply sarcastically. “Not exactly conducive to being together.”

  “I see your dilemma,” he replies, tapping his fingers on my desk. “The heart is a fragile thing. If it’s not fed routinely, it forgets how to care. Distance prevents meals, if you know what I mean.”

  “You’re a real romantic,” I mutter.

  Saint tips his head back, giving a boisterous laugh. When he faces me again, he’s still chuckling and shaking his head. “Me? Romantic? The farthest thing from it. I just know facts. Personally, women are devious creatures and aren’t to be trusted as far as you can throw them.”

  Now that has my attention. I blink in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” he says, casually picking at some nonexistent lint on his jeans. He lifts his head up. “But that’s just my personal belief. Don’t let it influence your path.”

  “I won’t,” I murmur, but he does have me intrigued. “So what did she do to you?”

  His smile stays in place, but something flashes in his eyes that says I hit the mark. “What makes you think anyone did anything to me?”

  “That level of distaste for women either means you’ve had your heart broken or you had an abusive mother,” I point out. Simply psychiatry.

  Saint’s expression turns hard. “My mother was an angel. The best woman I’ll ever know.”

  I incline my head in acknowledgment, smirking. “Then a woman broke your heart.”

  “She betrayed me,” Saint murmurs, then pushes off my desk. “Simple as that.”

  “Barrett’s not like that. Not all women are like that.”

  Shrugging, Saint returns to his desk. He sits in his chair, then spins it slightly toward me. “Probably not. But if you think that way, it makes it easier to stay removed from it. Less dangerous and all.”

  I lift my chin, understanding what he means. If someone has been burned once, they tend to be shy around the flammable sources. I get it.

  My dilemma with Barrett is different, though. I’m not afraid in the slightest that my heart could be at risk with her. In fact, I want it to be so.

  But Barrett’s life is so radically different from mine. She’s a world-famous scientist who will probably end up getting a Nobel prize or some shit for her work. She’ll be off traveling the world while I’ll still be doing missions for Jameson.

  What I do for a living and what she does isn’t exactly conducive for a solid relationship.

  I study Saint, but his interest is back on his game. He may be jaded and not much help in the romance department, but he did say something that’s sticking with me.

  Distance can be a killer to a relationship, no matter how hard both parties try. In the two days I’ve been back in Pittsburgh, Barret and I have kept in close contact. Texts throughout the day and long conversations on the phone that go late into the night. It’s reassuring to have that contact.

  It’s not enough, though.

  Not for the long term.

  Pushing up from my chair, I make my way through the maze of desks and head to the floating staircase. I take the steps to the gym on the fourth floor two at a time. I’d seen Kynan a little while ago, and he’d said he was on his way there to work out.

  Since my return to Jameson two days ago, Kynan has been fairly hands off with me. Basically, he’d reiterated he was glad things had worked out—meaning my absolution of murder charges from as high up as the president—and that Barrett was safe. He’d said he was glad to have me back. That if it hadn’t been for my idea to push Scavino into contacting Munford, we most likely would not have found Barrett in time
.

  It had helped to hear that. Helped to alleviate my guilt over letting her get captured in the first place.

  He’d done something that had surprised the shit out of me then.

  Clapping a hand on my shoulder, he’d leaned in and said, “Cruce… if you want to stay here at Jameson, you’ve got to do something for me.”

  “What’s that?” I’d asked.

  “You need to admit—and truly mean it—that you know Barrett’s kidnapping wasn’t your fault.”

  He’d stunned me so much I’d actually jerked away from him, but he clamped down hard on my shoulder to hold me in place. “Barrett’s kidnapping was the kidnapper’s fault. In part, Barrett was even at fault. She sent emails out when she’d been specifically told not to. Once they had her location, there was no way you could have withstood that type of strike, even if you’d known it was coming. You did nothing wrong.”

  I’d just stared.

  “Barrett was at fault,” Kynan repeated. “And Lord knows… that woman paid tenfold for it. No one deserves what she had done to her, but you don’t deserve to have the weight of that on you either. So I’m telling you… if you want to work for me, you better absolve yourself of that shit and do it fast.”

  Yeah… his words had given me pause. I’m still unsure if I should give them full credence. The depth of my feelings for Barrett won’t seem to let me pawn this off on her. I’m the man. I’m the strong one. I should take the blame for her and myself.

  Regardless, it’s not what I want to talk to Kynan about right now.

  In the gym, I find him at the squat rack, loading plates on the barbell. He hears me come in, spares me a glance, and says, “What’s up?”

  “Got a minute?” I ask as I wind my way through the equipment.

  “Sure,” he replies. He snags a towel hanging on the rack, then swipes his face with it.

  When I reach him, I take a deep breath and let it out. “I hate to do this… but I think I’m going to have to turn in my resignation.”

  “Jesus fuck, Cruce,” Kynan mutters angrily. “I thought I told you to let that shit go. It wasn’t your fault, and—”

  I shake my head, holding my hand up to silently cut him off. “It’s not that. I hear what you’re saying about it being on Barrett for sending the email, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “She’s in D.C.,” I say. “It’s her home, and well… I can’t really ask her to come to Pittsburgh. I think her work is far more important than mine, so I’m thinking I want to move to D.C.”

  Kynan huffs out a breath of dismay. “And what will you do there? If you go back to the Secret Service, you could end up anywhere, although, admittedly… the president would probably give you a plum assignment or something to keep you there.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it that much,” I say truthfully. “Only that while I love this company and the people here, I don’t think Barrett can have her career here. So I’m going to have to go there.”

  Kynan cocks his head thoughtfully, then his eyes light up. “What if I made your job a little more mobile?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, missions are geographical, so whether you two were based here or in D.C., you’d have to travel if you stayed on at Jameson. But otherwise, you could live out of D.C. and travel here as needed. It’s not ideal, but fuck, Cruce… I don’t want to lose you. You’re a fantastic addition to our team.”

  I hadn’t even thought that what he’d just offered could be possible. There’s such a unique camaraderie at Jameson, and the bond between the team members can’t be discounted. Still, if it lets me keep the best of both worlds—Barrett and a job I really like—then I could make it work.

  “I appreciate that,” I say, sticking my hand out. He gives it a rough shake before returning to the squat machine.

  I pivot, heading for the door.

  “Cruce,” Kynan calls.

  I look over my shoulder.

  “If you’d hurry up and finish that fucking report, I’d tell you to hop the next plane out of here to go talk to Barrett about it.”

  My grin is wide when I nod. “Thanks, boss. Going to do that now.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Barrett

  “I’m bored, Cage.” Sighing, I lean my head against the seat and watch the D.C. scenery as he drives me home from work.

  “Why’s that, doc?” he asks as he casually maneuvers through rush-hour traffic, one hand propped at the top of the steering wheel, his other resting loosely on his thigh.

  For the past three days, he’s been driving me to and from the lab. During that time, I haven’t held back on meaningful conversation with the man. He is, after all, the closest connection I have to Cruce outside our texts and phone calls.

  I learned early on Cage doesn’t really know Cruce and vice versa. Until recently, Cage has been based out of the Vegas office, while Cruce is new to the organization. I’d point blank asked him that first day how well he knew Cruce, determined to pick his brain hard.

  When I realized he wouldn’t be much help, I’d still kept talking to him. A loose connection to Cruce was better than none.

  I sigh again. “It’s just… how do I find work that satisfies me after I’ve managed to figure out one of the most elusive scientific formulas in humanity’s history?”

  “Braggart,” he replies affectionately, and I shoot him a short smile.

  “Seriously,” I mutter. “I feel so… useless.”

  “It’s easy.” Cage coasts to a stop at a red light, shifting slightly to focus on me. “You find the next elusive formula, then put that gargantuan-sized brain to work on it.”

  I wrinkle my nose, an automatic reaction to that suggestion.

  Cage frowns in response. “Don’t you want to do that? Isn’t that why you’re bored?”

  “No.” The tone of my voice is slightly whiny. “I want to be bored on a beach or taking a cooking class.”

  “Yeah,” he replies with a shake of his head. His attention returns to the road since the light turns green and traffic starts moving. “That makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “It’s just…” I start off, trying to explain something that doesn’t even make sense to me. “It’s just that my whole adult life has been devoted to a singular cause. I’ve spent all my time, exclusive of sleep, working on it. While it fueled and motivated me, and ultimately fulfilled me, I want…”

  My words trail off, unable to quite express my angst.

  “You want Cruce,” Cage fills in the rest.

  “No,” I say in quick denial. “I mean… yes, of course. But it’s more than that.”

  “You want a life with him,” he guesses.

  “I want a life,” I manage to say. “An all-encompassing one. I want to do the things normal people do. Binge-watch Netflix, take vacations, repaint my cabinets.”

  “And…” he prompts.

  “And I want to be in a relationship,” I murmur, shifting closer to him as I give up my deepest desire. “With Cruce. Forever.”

  Cage’s lips curve upward, and he nods at something up ahead. “Now might be your chance to discuss those things.”

  I jerk my head up to peer out the windshield, my townhome coming into view. Cruce sits on the front steps, and a jolt of exhilaration flows through me. My heart expands and fills with unfettered joy, and yes… I want him forever.

  Cage has barely brought the car to a stop at the sidewalk in front of my house before I’m leaping out.

  “Later,” I call to him, slamming the door before he can reply. I don’t even hear him drive off, but I assume he does leave.

  Cruce stands from the stoop, then dusts his jeans off. He jogs down the three steps to the sidewalk, barely making it to the bottom before I launch myself at him. He’s laughing when my body hits his, and I wrap my legs hard around his waist as I press my face into his neck.

  “What are you doing here?” I mumble.

  “Came to s
ee a pretty girl to have a serious talk,” he replies. Heart starting to hammer, I pull back slightly in question. “Let’s sit on the porch, okay?”

  I nod, reluctantly letting him lower me until my shoes hit the sidewalk. Cruce takes my hand, leading me up to the landing. We sit down, side by side. He stares down the block in the direction we’d been returning from on our run the morning my first kidnapping attempt happened. It was only a few weeks ago, yet it seems like a lifetime already.

  What Cruce and I have been through together makes it feel like I’ve known this man for an eternity.

  I’ve realized even that’s not enough time for me. The only question now is if he feels the same? For all I know, his “serious talk” is to break up with me.

  Cruce takes my hand, pulling it over to rest in between his. “It’s been a tough few days—being back in Pittsburgh and away from you.”

  “Same,” I admit, reaching over to put my hand on top of our others. I rest my head on his shoulder before saying, “There’s been so much craziness. The sudden calm seems like a disconnect. It makes the loneliness worse.”

  “Have you been lonely?” he asks. “Without me?”

  When I nod, he must feel it against his shoulder, because he leans over and presses his lips to the top of my head in a quick kiss. “I’ve been thinking logistics.”

  “Of course you have,” I reply with a chuckle, lifting my head. “That’s your job.”

  “Logistics about us,” he clarifies with a smirk. “This long-distance thing is not going to work for me.”

  “Me either,” I say solemnly. “It’s best we break up, right?”

  His eyes flare, practically bugging out of his head. “What? No! That’s not what I was going to say.”

  Laughing, I squeeze his hands. “I was joking, and I could tell by the tone of your voice it wasn’t what you were going to say. But I am waiting with a little bit of anxiety here… so tell me, what’s the big solution for us?”