Finding Fate: An Intense, Fast-Paced Romantic Suspense Novel Read online

  "Well...," I muse and fiddle with the lining of my jacket pocket.

  "What?"

  I swallow hard and keep my eyes on the floor to keep my gawking at a minimum. This room is too small, too warm, smells too much of him. "You didn't answer me earlier. Why am I here? Why not just send me back home?"

  "I told you, I wasn't ready to let you go," he says to the bag his forehead presses against.

  I dare a step closer. "Is there anything else?" A tingle of hope laces my words. Maybe I am safe if they haven't tracked me. Maybe the general’s second forgot all about my revelation of being with the CIA and didn't communicate it back to Jace.

  "There might be one other thing."

  My face falls as the blip of hope vanishes.

  "Why do you want to know?" His brown eyes flick to me as he rotates his head along the punching bag. "You have your suspicions, don't you? It's why you ran yesterday and why you say you're still not safe," he says more to himself than me. Shoving off the bag, he moves closer until my back presses against the wall and we're toe-to-toe.

  The scent of his sweat and soap envelops my senses. Locking my knees to not let them tremble like my insides, I hold his searching stare. Minty exhales brush along my skin with each of his labored breaths. Goose bumps spread up my arms as my own breathing increases, almost matching his own.

  "Who do you think it is?"

  "Who who is?" I say, not wanting to admit to anything.

  "Don't play dumb," he snarls, pressing his palms against the wall on either side of my head, boxing me in. "You're not, so don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about. Who else was tracking your prints? Us, the FBI and one other. Who is it?"

  Shit.

  The earlier flutter in my stomach vanishes, and I feel the blood drain from my face. "I have to get out of here." Frantic, I attempt to duck under his arm, but he blocks my escape. Looking up, I find his eyes searching mine, the earlier frustration and anger gone, concern taking their place.

  "Whatever it is, don't be scared. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, but if you know who's trying to find you, it would make my job a lot easier." The forced smile says he's trying to lighten the mood the only way he knows how. "Dammit, Pops, I’m trying here. Give me something, would ya?"

  Right here, between his arms, I do feel safe. But for how long? "My computers." He starts to interrupt, but I keep going. "I'll know if my suspicions are correct if I can take a peek. Then I'll tell you everything."

  “Why after?”

  “Because it’s been five months since... I need to know if who I believe is searching for me actually is. I won’t give you his name just for you to run out and ruin what I’ve been working toward for the past year. Let me look. Then I’ll tell you and we can figure out a plan after. Deal?”

  His teeth sink into his lower lip, gaining my full attention. "I’m not trying to push you, but we need to know sooner than later, Pops.” His brown eyes search mine. “After lunch. I'm starving."

  "Okay," I say breathlessly, still staring at that full lip, now with teeth indentions. "What do you want to eat?"

  "You."

  All breathing and brain functions cease to exist.

  "Breathe, Pops. I'm just giving you a hard time. Come on, I'll make you some pancakes."

  The second he's out the door, I whisper the response I wanted to give. “Yes, please.”

  SATISFIED THE CORDS are connected correctly and the last one’s plugged in, I sit back and hit the power button. As the machines whir to life, I turn to Nash on the bed where he’s mindlessly petting Dobby’s soft head while he snores sprawled out along the comforter. He and Mac spoiled Dobby rotten while I was gone, it appears. Nash's eyes flicker open, gives me a shy grin before closing them once again.

  How adorable is he? The second breakfast of the day was just as good and just the same. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes really are the only thing he knows how to make outside frozen dinners and pizza.

  I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but the wooden armrests of the too-stiff chair dig into my sides. And it doesn't swivel. Double boo.

  Staring back at the screens, I sigh with a smile. Here’s where I belong—in front of a computer doing what I do best. Here, I can do anything and help anyone. Which reminds me....

  With a quick glance to Nash to make sure he's still asleep, I run a quick search on Liza.

  It's easy if you know where to look. Find Liza by Nash, find birth records by finding Liza, find Mya's birth father’s name by downloading the birth certificate. From there it only takes ten minutes to find the douchebag and his bank accounts. I scowl at the large number flashing on my screen. "Deadbeat prick," I whisper as I transfer sufficient funds from one account to another, then to another untraceable account before moving it to Liza's.

  Is this money laundering? Eh, I work for the FBI. Plus, it's not for me but for them. Once the confirmation pops up on the screen, I smile and reach for my snacks. My nonexistent snacks.

  I can’t work in these kinds of conditions. Bad chair, no Twizzlers, no caffeine except coffee? Not going to happen.

  "Do you have any strawberry Twizzlers lying around?" I ask with a half groan, half whimper to the ceiling.

  "Hmm?"

  I glance back to the bed, finding his eyes closed, hand stilled on Dobby’s round belly. With a soft laugh, I push out of the uncomfortable chair and stand beside the bed. Those brown eyes flutter open and a lazy smile spreads across his lips.

  "Sorry." He yawns with a big stretch. "You're boring."

  Staring down at him like this, something about the angle sends me back to our last day together in Africa. My fingers itch to touch his face like I did that day. Instead I ball them into tiny fists and shove them into my jacket. "You were so sick," I whisper, still staring into those soulful brown eyes. "I felt so helpless and scared. It was selfish, but I didn't want you to leave me because I'd be alone and I'd...." Shaking my head, my request for caffeine and sugar no longer priority, I turn back to my chair but he wraps a hand around my wrist.

  I don't turn.

  "You'd what?"

  With a shrug, I draw courage to turn and face him. His other hand tucks behind his head, offering a great visual of his toned, inked bicep. "I don't know. Open up, I guess. Everything we talked about, what I told you, it meant something to me and I didn't want it to go. Didn't want you to go." After a few beats of silence, I whisper, "Didn't want you to leave me too."

  "It meant something to me too, Pops. It meant more than you've realized." A thumb draws tiny circles along my tender skin.

  The ping of an incoming call makes his hand drop to dig into the front pocket of his jeans.

  "Yeah," he sighs into the mouthpiece. "This better be good, because you are interrupting something. Okay, so what does... no, she's here. What does he need... Why not the CIA? Bastards, right.... Loaded, and I'll get her one too.... No, but I'll show her. Let me know when you have an update." The phone falls to the bed, stirring Dobby who gives Nash an annoyed look for disrupting his sleep.

  Instead of filling me in, Nash shuts his eyes with a smirk.

  My hands come up to my hips as I wait. "You're not going to tell me?"

  "Got it covered, but we do need a hint to who the person tracking you is. It would really help my boy Rocky out. So go work your magic. Then we can talk."

  "I need a Coke, strawberry Twizzlers, and milk."

  "That’s disgusting." He grimaces, but a small smile tries to creep up his cheeks. "Either way, I'm fresh out of Coke and Twizzlers, of any kind."

  "I can't work without them. Can you run out and—”

  "No. Not leaving your side."

  "Fine, then can we go out and get it? I really need it," I whine. The second those computers clicked on, so did my cravings, and now it's almost overwhelming. Like an addict, my computers are a trigger to my sugar addition, and I need it now.

  He doesn't respond, which sends my annoyance to the physical harm level. I shove his leg, but my
annoyed huff falls flat as my hand doesn't meet muscle. Staring wide-eyed at his right foot, I slide his pants leg up an inch. His stare burns into me, but I stay focused on the metal rod.

  "Did... did I do that?"

  "I told you," he growls and pushes up to his elbows, then swings his legs over the bed, out of my reach. "You didn't do anything to me. And no, I did this to myself." With an exaggerated sigh, he falls back to the bed and runs a hand down his face.

  "When?"

  He doesn't respond, doesn't look up.

  "When?" I say a little louder, glancing back to the metal rod where his ankle should be.

  "When... when... hmm. Before. Yeah, before today."

  "Don't fuck with me, Nash," I seethe. "When exactly did that happen?"

  After running a hand over his hair, he stares up to the ceiling. "Gangrene had set in by the time I got to a hospital. They had to take it off to save my life."

  "All of it." I'm not sure I'm breathing. The room spins and the walls close in.

  "Below the knee. I did it to myself—"

  "But if you hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t sent those girls first—"

  Having heard enough, I spin on my heels and bolt for the door. Maybe if I leave and come back, the outcome will be different. It’s not sound reasoning, but it's all I can think of in the moment. Because knowing my actions cost this man part of his body is too much.

  Two feet from the door, I'm hauled back against a solid chest as an arm wraps around my waist. I fight forward, getting nowhere.

  "Do you want to know the worst part of waking up in that hospital? It wasn't learning I'd lost part of my leg. It was learning you were gone and untraceable. It's been difficult learning to walk with this contraption and cope with it all, but I managed. But what I couldn't move past was you. I can't sleep. The nights are so damn long without your voice pouring through the dark." Wrapping my hands around my face, I cry as he tells me everything I dreamed he would. "I'll never regret not getting on the chopper, coming after you instead. It gave me you. There was a brief moment of time when I was miserable, but I met you. You mean everything to me, Pops. I'll give you the other leg if you'll just stay. Stay with me."

  He grips my shoulders and swivels me around to face him. Rough hands wrap around mine and pull them from my face. When I dare to open my eyes, his are on me, searching. I know what he's searching for—permission. In slow motion, his hands lift, hovering in the air for a brief second before cupping my cheeks. My eyes shutter closed at the warmth pouring from him to me.

  "I'll give you whatever you want if you'll just stay," he murmurs.

  Everything below my belly button trembles and throbs as a thumb brushes over my lower lip. My breathing turns ragged as sweat from our undeniable heat beads along my palms.

  "Stop," I whisper and pull from his grasp. It’s happening too fast. The way I feel, the way my body responds to his touch, his look, it's more than I've ever felt. I'm out of control. If he pushes me against the wall, I won’t stop him—I'll beg him for it.

  Who the hell am I turning into? This isn't me. This wanting, the need to feel his skin against mine, is new. Even with guys in the past, I've never wanted like this.

  Anger and resentment pulse behind his eyes as his hands drop. "Why are you pushing me away? You want this as much as I do—I can see it. So stop fighting it."

  Unable to stop my next words, because they come from my heart instead of my head, I say, "Because it means more. You mean more. Everything about you is too much."

  Chapter 25

  Nash

  Today

  "What the hell does that even mean?" I grunt and run a hand over my hair. This woman is confusing as hell, and yet for some reason, it's not making me love her any less. It's almost like her quirks are the exact puzzle piece to fit mine. Instead of infuriating me like other girls’ crazy has in the past, urging me to leave, it's the opposite with Pops. Like now, my mind’s in overdrive trying to decode what the hell she's saying but not saying. I want to figure it out instead of just giving up like I’ve always done.

  Her head drops and those tiny fists move around in the pockets of her hoodie. Shit, I forget how insecure she is. Me yelling at her isn't solving anything, only making it worse.

  Nice going, jackass.

  With two fingers beneath her chin, I bring her wide eyes to meet mine. It's there, in her eyes, the want. She wants me as bad as I want her, but she's holding back.

  "It means... can we just go?" She turns toward the door but doesn't make a move toward it. "I'm not ready for this talk yet. Everything needs to be out on the table. You need to know what you’re walking into before... just give me time to adjust, okay? For the past four months I thought you were dead. That this, you and me, would never be a possibility outside my memories and dreams. Every night a piece of me broke all over remembering our nights together. I mourned you. I need...."

  With the way she can't finish the thought, maybe she doesn't even know.

  "Okay." I pull her close with a small prayer that she doesn't push away. "I won’t rush you. When you're ready, I'm here. Waiting." The call from earlier flashes back to the forefront of my mind. "We need to get you on those things," I say with a nod toward the computers now filling most of the room. "That was our computer guru on the phone. The person tracking your prints is evasive as hell. Rocky can't pinpoint him, and we have reason to believe it's directly tied to your operation in Africa. He needs your help."

  "Yeah, about that—"

  "Oh, and the FBI will be over tomorrow to debrief you. They need to know what happened over there."

  "I don't think—"

  "I had to do one with my boss. It’ll be fine, promise."

  "Will you stay with me?" The fear in her voice makes the earlier rejection fade and hope fill my lungs with renewed life.

  "If you want me to, fuck yeah. They may not like it, but I'll make sure it happens. I'll get an exact time later, but until then, let's get your snacks." When I step around her toward the door, I lean down to kiss her forehead. "If who you suspect is looking for you, how bad is it?"

  "Bad." She shoves her hands back into her pockets and walks out the door. Halfway down the stairs, she continues. "If this guy is tracking my prints, that means he's probably realized we created a fake identity to get me over there and has already cracked through the fail-safes Mac and I put in place. Which means he knows how to find me and knows...." I almost slam into her back when she stops abruptly. "He's the reason I moved to DC. If he knows who I really am, he's realized that I've been tracking him, duping him, for a very long time. And not only that, but I know exactly who he is, which is the mark of death in his area of expertise. The threat of the general’s second finding me here is slim, but if he told this guy I escaped, this guy will do anything to keep his identity hidden."

  "Okay, but why would he care that—"

  "I tracked him across the country and found him. Out of everyone out there, I found his specific digital fingerprint, his tale. Plus, if he knows who I really am, then he knows we've met before, that I can positively ID him."

  “What the hell? Met him?” I try to keep the frustration out of my tone but fail. Fuck, if she’d just tell me who this fucker is, I’ll take care of the issue now. But she’s holding back, and I can’t force it out of her. Not yet. Not while she’s still healing and trying to get her bearings being back stateside.

  With a trembling sigh, she leans against the wall and slides down until she hits the floor. "Yeah, met him. I kind of stalked him a bit once I moved here. Okay, a lot. But I wanted to keep tabs on him, see the man I was hunting. What I found during all my digging... so, every organization like the one in Africa, like ISIS, The Brotherhood, they all have recruiters. Cyber masterminds who go out and find their newest recruits, for soldiers to believe in their cause or women who—"

  "Want more, like your sister."

  "Exactly. What makes this guy scary is he's good. Really good, and has a lot of bad people on his frie
nds list. I found him, and what I found... not only is he American, living in DC, but he’s a recruiter for not just one organization but five—that I found, at least. Don't you get it? I'm not safe. If he knows who I am, I'm as good as dead."

  "Hell, Pops. You're telling me that not only does this guy know the people who will gladly kill you, but he can track you no matter where you go? And not only that, but since you found him and he thinks he's a cyber god, now he wants revenge. Does that sum it up?" Damn it, this woman. If I had known she was in this deep shit, I would’ve carried the AR instead of my 9mm.

  "Think of him as Lord Voldemort." A small smile pulls at her lips, which is strange considering the severity of this conversation. Maybe she's cracking under the pressure. "What he's able to do is amazing, the searching and analyzing of so much data to find the right target for each cause. He just uses his magic for evil."

  Dropping to a crouch to put us at eye level, I grab her shoulders and wait until her gaze locks with mine. "We’ll figure it out. We got out of Africa, survived. Together we can survive this too. I mean really, how hard can it be?" With a laugh to lighten the mood, I stand and pull her up with me. "He's a computer geek and I'm... well, look at me. No way he's getting by me."

  "And his friends?" she says with raised brows.

  "Hey now, I have friends too, and I guarantee mine are a better shot."

  With a hand on her lower back, I guide her to the detached garage. She moves to the passenger door and slides across the bench of my old truck.

  Shit. Before she can close the door, I grip the metal to hold it open. My other hand slides over my hair, soothing the top over and over again. "So, funny thing. Well it actually isn't really funny. Which is crazy for me to say since I think everything is damn funny—"

  "Just say it, Nash."

  "Pops, I... driving is... it's still a challenge with the new contraption," I admit, tightening my grip on the door. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Ten seconds ago, I said I could protect her from this computer guy, and now here I am not even able to drive to the fucking store.