Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Read online

  Mullaney smiled. "It's your mother's place."

  "I did the team a favor," he reminded. "With the laptop breach, we couldn't risk the original safehouse." If Viper believed Julie was parked there, the location became unsafe for anyone. That had left the agency scrambling to shift locations for other protected witnesses.

  O'Brien's expression didn't budge. "You two have . . . a rapport."

  He was on dangerously thin ice when it came to Julie. There would be plenty of time after Viper was caught to explore his weakness for the stubborn, sexy blonde.

  Painfully aware when she rejoined them, she flopped on the couch near the windows. Her exasperated sigh carried clearly. "You realize I can hear you, right?"

  Great. Beautiful, scared and seriously pissed off. Ignoring Mullaney's chuckle, he gave up. "Make sure the guards downstairs know where to find you."

  Finn's relief should have been a dead giveaway. Turning for the door, O'Brien thumped him on the shoulder.

  "What now?"

  "Just thought you should know— she's cryin' over there." Nodding toward Julie, he bolted for the door. Mullaney lost no time following him. Matt jerked his gaze to the couch. Hell if he knew how this day could get any worse.

  Julie was slumped into his mother's sofa. Knees pulled up to her chest, she'd buried her face in folded arms. Hooyah. Meltdown in progress. His legs moving as though encased in concrete, his last thought as he approached her was that he would kill O'Brien the moment he returned.

  ***

  Julie sensed his presence before the cushion sank under his weight. It was the aura of confidence, a man accustomed to action. And the brave resignation of a guy who'd just lost a bet. The resoluteness of a man stuck dealing with an overtired woman in the throes of a crying jag. Blindly, she swiped her eyes in the desperate hope he wouldn't notice.

  "When can I go home? I need clothes for tomorrow-"

  "Jules— honey, you're not going home."

  The compassionate tone indicated he'd drawn the short straw on the delivery of more bad news. If not for being utterly miserable, the sight of Finn and Mullaney staring at her with fear in their eyes before bolting from the apartment would have made her laugh.

  She felt so unbelievably alone. Trapped in a nightmare with no way out. Matt wearily rubbed his eyes— as though the mere thought of dealing with her was exhausting.

  "If I had my way, you wouldn't go near KTec until this is over." Despite strong intentions, when he slipped an arm around her, Julie allowed herself to be drawn against him. "But I was overruled. We need you on the inside— wearing a wire."

  The rough catch to his voice made her hesitate. Was it possible he cared— even a little? Or was it simply one more tactic in Barnes' arsenal— to assure her cooperation? She could no longer be certain. "I haven't been home in nearly a week."

  "Mullaney's team checked your condo. We can't protect you there," he explained. "It's wide open— too many ways to enter the building."

  She pointed to the wall of windows. "Look where we are. This isn't exposed?" "If this situation were ideal— you'd be parked in a safehouse where no one could find you."

  "If this situation were ideal— I'd be home." Sliding a cautious glance his way, Julie regretted it. His chiseled profile was unyielding. Anger slowly replaced her fear. She could return to work. But, she'd be wearing three-day-old sweatpants owned by some guy she'd never met. She could throw herself into investigating who was tanking her company— until a powerful and elusive druglord murdered her at her desk.

  Matt's agency had chased him for years. There was no guarantee they'd capture him any time soon. Her life would remain in limbo— unable to return home. Sleeping in a strange place— lying in the dark, paralyzed with fear. Doing anything but sleeping.

  "This is for your protection."

  She jerked free of his arm and rose from the couch, her need to pace too strong to ignore. "Punishing me is just a bonus?"

  Matt's gaze turned flinty in a heartbeat. "You may not care about the danger," he interrupted. "But the people protecting you deserve your cooperation— so they don't get hurt."

  An uncomfortable selfishness washed over her. Julie wished she could retract her words. "You know I don't mean it like that."

  "Thanks to a great deal of effort, whoever wants you dead won't find you. Tonight," he tacked on.

  "Can you at least acknowledge how I feel?" Barnes was easier to dislike when he wasn't being so reasonable. "I'm still a hostage to this investigation." She'd grown weary trying to convince him of her obligations. Her duty to KTec. She was so damn tired . . . of everything.

  "I'm sorry you feel that way."

  "Is that from your DEA handbook?" She spun around. "Do they train you on what to say?"

  "Again— the subtlety thing?" Cold eyes seemed to bore through her. "Goin' right over my head, Jules."

  "Chapter 3 - Meaningless words of comfort for hysterical females?"

  Matt's gaze tracked her movement. "I said I was sorry."

  Julie resumed pacing, growing more agitated by the minute. "How many times have you said that?" At his blank expression, she sighed. "My point is— you're not sorry. This investigation is all you care about. The people you mow down along the way don't matter."

  "It's my job." Tossing his keys on the coffee table, the grim set of his jaw acknowledged the tension churning between them. "I know it's intrusive. And I am sorry," he insisted.

  "Don't pretend I'm somehow different," she objected. At the very least, she deserved honesty. "I don't need you faking interest in me because I'm a suspect— or witness— or whatever you believe I am today." Julie drifted to the sunny windows, the peace of the last few hours marred by the painful intrusion of reality. She was merely one of the hundred details Agent Barnes had to contend with. She'd been foolish to imagine he thought of her differently.

  Despite every awful thing that had happened during the past week— she'd actually enjoyed her time with him. The brutal comedy of that acknowledgment spoke volumes about the shape of her life. But he was funny. And thoughtful. Despite the laser-beam intensity he'd displayed over the past week, she'd glimpsed below the surface. His basic personality was pretty easygoing. When he wasn't on guard—or accusing her of felonies— he was likeable. He radiated confidence and dependability. And he was sexy as hell. Matt Barnes was practically a fantasy version of the perfect man. For the first time in an eternity, she'd felt completely at ease with a guy. For the first time in years, she'd felt like— a woman. Not because of her money or connections. Just for her.

  "The reality is— you don't care." Her words sounded ugly. Desperate. As though he'd somehow disappointed her. As though she'd expected more. But if hard experience had taught her anything— it was she couldn't depend on anyone.

  "I do care," he admitted, his husky voice radiating intensity. "How I feel about you makes this harder in every way."

  It would be safer to disregard the flutter his words caused in her stupid heart. Julie knew better than to believe them. Through the glass, she followed the vapor trail of a plane as it soared across the sky, growing smaller each second. More than anything, she wished she were on board . . . going anywhere. So long as it carried her far away.

  "I know you don't believe me, but I understand your frustration." Matt's reflection joined hers in the window. "For your sake, I hope this ends soon."

  When he tipped her chin up, she reluctantly met his gaze. Hope flickered in his eyes— that she'd come around. That she'd promise not to be difficult. Julie recognized the expression. Dandridge. The board members. Bankers. Men— convinced their way was the only right way.

  Why was she considered difficult when all she wanted were the things he hadn't lost?

  "These are very dangerous people, Jules. At least say you trust me on that."

  "Do you trust me?"

  He reached for her hand. "I trust you're not directly involved." The warmth of his grip transferred to her icy fingers. "But you have an agenda and that ma
kes you dangerous."

  A brief moment of compassion, followed by a painful reality check. Matt trusted her because he had to. He hadn't believed she was innocent, only that the evidence finally pointed somewhere else.

  "My agenda is keeping my company alive. You make it sound-" Hearing the trace of hurt in her voice, she knew he had too. Damn right, she had an agenda. "Can we just stop?"

  Appearing genuinely baffled, his eyes widened. "Okay— what did I say now?"

  Tugging her hand free, Julie took a step back. "You've probably exceeded the allotment for consoling cranky suspects."

  He smiled. "We're back to quoting the handbook?"

  Determined to gain some needed distance, she spied the bookcase on the far wall and made her retreat, still managing to feel foolish, despite the unfairness of the situation.

  Dragging in a breath, Matt released it slowly. Frustration warred with amusement. Her expressive features made her an open book. If not mistaken, Julie wanted to beat the hell out of him. As resolve sparked in her beautiful eyes, he acknowledged the angelic face hid a stubborn streak a mile wide. In spite of the danger, she remained locked in denial.

  "You alright?" He needed to keep her at arm's length, but it was increasingly difficult keeping the wall in place. He was honest enough to recognize his restraint was temporary at best.

  "Super duper."

  Recognizing defeat in her voice, he accepted his blame. Hell, he'd be ticked too, if someone barged into his life and began ordering him around. Maybe worse was realizing he wanted to be the one she turned to. That insight sent a whisper of unease crawling down his spine. He didn't like being responsible for the strain in her eyes, for delivering news that caused her fear or frustration. But the bodies were piling up— and his gut was strumming with warning.

  The spark of challenge ignited in his gut. For the first time in months, he wasn't worried about his shoulder— or beating himself up over Pam's death. Or wondering whether he could handle getting back in the game. He was back. He'd returned to the world where he could do everything right and still fail. But tonight, the team couldn't afford any screw-ups. Drug dealers were notoriously paranoid. It was a necessity to staying alive. And first meetings were always fraught with inherent danger. If the slightest thing went wrong, an edgy dealer would shoot first.

  They were inching dangerously close to their quarry. When Viper made a mistake— he wanted Jules as far away from the shooting as possible. Because when she put her mind to it, she could be dangerous.

  ***

  Something was happening. A distinct, crackling charge hung in the air. Julie observed the buzz of activity taking place in the penthouse. More agents. More phone calls. More huddled conversations, with occasional darting glances in her direction.

  Her mind wandering, Julie tried to imagine that much attention focused on resolving her problems at KTec. A team like Matt's could accomplish more in one day than she could hope to achieve in a month. She was in a situation so far beyond her control— that even ten days earlier, she wouldn't have been able to imagine it. She wasn't in charge. Hell, she wasn't even being consulted. Yet, she'd acquiesced without a peep. Perhaps she was changing.

  Maybe she could finally admit she needed help. It was foolish to attempt tackling KTec's problems by herself. Qualified consultants would help her clean house and develop a team she could rely on. Surprised by the path of her thoughts, Julie wandered the beautiful apartment. The panoramic view from the kitchen captured her attention.

  Why had it taken her so long to reach such an obvious conclusion? After all this time, why did she still feel the need to do everything herself? "Maybe I'm more adaptable than I thought."

  "What makes you say that?"

  Matt must be under orders to watch her closely. Another situation she'd meekly accepted. Protection? Or— imprisonment? "Worried I'll steal something?"

  Arms folded, he rested against the spare-no-expense, exquisite Italian marble island, his eyes glinting with amusement over her lack of welcome. "I know where you live."

  "You must have better things-" Her voice trailed off. What would be the point?

  "We're in the middle of several things, none of which has reached the boiling point, so for now— I'm all yours."

  Knowing his words served as bait, her smile was genuine. "Lucky me."

  "What were you saying? Something about being adaptable?"

  "Now my innermost thoughts are subject to your review?" Though her tone was teasing, Matt's expression went carefully blank. Something in his eyes suggested her observation bothered him.

  "No, Jules. I just . . . wondered if you wanted to share them."

  Surprised by his admission, she forgot to be cautious. "I was just realizing I'm more adaptable than I thought."

  "This situation, you mean?"

  "I've never not been in control," she emphasized. "It's hard to let that go. But here— I don't get the choice."

  "It's for your protection-"

  She raised a hand to stop his explanation. "I'm not complaining— this time," she added when an eyebrow lifted skeptically. "I see your team out there— this incredible energy and I wish I had that for the problems I'm facing."

  Unsure what she would read in his expression, she turned to the safety of the window. She sensed uncertainty in his stillness— or maybe surprise that she'd admit such a glaring weakness. "I've been hell-bent on doing everything myself— like I still have something to prove. And . . . I was wondering why I do that."

  "Why do you care so much what others think?"

  Julie glanced over her shoulder. "You make not caring sound easy."

  "Easier," he emphasized, "if you trust yourself." He hesitated. "Jules— whether you believe it, your dad trusted you."

  Uncertain whether she could speak around the sudden lump in her throat, she nodded. She'd worked diligently to please her father— to prove she was invested in KTec. Since his death, she'd fought to keep the company profitable— logging endless hours to keep his dream alive. While hers suffocated.

  "He wouldn't have wanted you second-guessing yourself."

  "Maybe if I'd taken over under different circumstances-" It was debatable whether she would have handled things differently. There still would've been the competitive need to prove herself. When he shook his head, she smiled. As annoying as she'd sometimes found his opinions, Matt's honesty was refreshing. "You don't agree?"

  He joined her at the window. "Having the courage to do it your way— means you own it."

  "I take responsibility-" What else could she possibly take on?

  "I'm talking about confidence," he explained. "And a thick skin when not everyone likes your confidence."

  She absorbed his self-assured words. "That's not exactly easy with a board of old men questioning every move I make."

  "Trust me, you have it in you." His eyes lit with amusement. "You've certainly told me off enough times."

  "That’s true," she admitted, making him chuckle. "Maybe I can do it."

  He raised his gaze to the ceiling. "I may have created a monster."

  She heard steps tracing down the hallway, bringing back the reason they'd been thrown together. The brief intimacy of their conversation ended as reality intruded once more. Matt turned, his expression resigned.

  "Magic— we've got a problem."

  "What now?"

  "Your mother's home."

  ***

  Chapter 10

  "Mom— what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Ireland." Instinctively, Matt tried to block her access. Though his brain knew it to be hopeless, his gut had him side-stepping, as though he stood a chance in hell of stopping her from venturing beyond the foyer.

  "I'm well, Matthew. Thanks for asking."

  He winced. Twelve seconds and he was already on the defensive. "How was your trip," he asked belatedly.

  "Cold and rainy. That's why I cut it short." Resting a large suitcase on the granite floor, her eyes widened when he shifted to intercep
t her. "Why are you blocking my way?"

  Covering his ill-timed move, he leaned in to hug her. "I can't give you a hug?"

  Suspicious, her gaze drifted beyond his shoulder. "Is something going on here?"

  "I— uh . . . needed a place-" Gaping at her, his mind galloped in a hundred directions. Five grown men had just bolted from the living room— five professionals on the hunt for a merciless killer— scrambling to clear evidence of their presence. They'd had four minutes advance notice from their guard stationed in the parking garage. Knowing his mother— she'd have at least twenty pointed questions about the trooper stationed in the lobby.

  "What's wrong with your place?" She dodged left and he followed, feeling completely foolish in the process. Resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder, Matt prayed they'd made it safely back to the kitchen.

  "I had to . . . come back into town— and I didn't have time to shop-"

  "So, you decided to raid my refrigerator?" She rolled her eyes over the obvious lie. "Darling, you'll have to do better than that." She removed his hand from her arm. "Step aside, Matthew. The traffic from Logan was miserable."

  "Mom— this isn't a good time. Maybe we could— reschedule?" What the hell was he doing?

  "Reschedule?" Her frosty voice interrupted his scrambled thoughts. "This is my house." When her eyes narrowed with suspicion, he stiffened. He knew that expression— he'd been caught by that expression at least a hundred times. Like a shark, her sonar was capable of tracking fear a mile away. "What's going on here?"

  With a healthy shove, she pushed past him into the living room. "Did you hold a rager while I was out of town?"

  Cringing when she drifted past the couch— his eyes saw evidence of the op they were in the middle of planning. Glasses and food wrappers cluttered the coffee table.

  She eyed the room distastefully. "Have you forgotten how to run the dishwasher?"

  Matt envisioned the guys cowering in the kitchen. Did he really think he could talk his way out of this? Any minute, his mother's hawk-like hearing would pick up on their presence. It was over. They were caught.