Frailty of Things Page 3

  She saw his jaw tick at that. But she needed for him to hear this. It wasn’t him she was rejecting, it was the kind of life he led, and she wasn’t about to try and change him. She’d been honest with him about that, too.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

  “It doesn’t?” she challenged. She couldn’t see any other way it could be. Garret led a life of secrets. A life that required him to be places within a moment’s notice. A life that didn’t allow him to share when he’d be going, where he’d be going, or why he was going, let alone when he might come back.

  “It doesn’t,” he insisted.

  “Fine, then,” she said. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Garret shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Caleb said he needed to talk to you, and I came along for the ride because I wanted to see you.”

  “Where did you fly from?” she pressed.

  He gave her a hard look as he realized what she was doing.

  “How long will you be here?” She hated throwing these questions at him, but he had to see her point.

  “I don’t know, Kit.” He didn’t like that she was pushing, but she needed him to understand.

  “And where will you go when you leave?”

  “I don’t know,” he bit out.

  “And how long will you be gone?”

  “I couldn’t say,” he managed as his jaw ticked again from the tension.

  Kit paused as exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her. Letting out a small sigh, she spoke. “I know, Garret,” she said, her voice quiet in the darkness. “I know you can’t say or don’t know. And I know you’re okay with living like that, but I’m not. So, as easy as it would be to lead you to my bed right now, I’m trying to be a grown up about this and put some value on what I want—what I really want for the long term rather than just what I want right now.”

  She felt the tension radiating from his body and knew this was as hard for him as it was for her, because she did believe he was sincere in whatever feelings he had for her. Which made it all that much more important to be honest about where she stood and what she was feeling.

  “And I think you know as well as I do that if we end up finishing tonight what we started five months ago, it’s going to be more than a one-night stand,” she said. “We can’t cross that bridge and expect to be anything other than completely involved.”

  Even as she said the words, a sense of sadness swept through her. She’d half expected the emotion, but it still didn’t feel good. And though she knew in her heart she was doing the right thing—she knew in her heart that now was not the time or place for her and Garret—she still felt the sting of loss.

  Maybe Garret felt it too, but his expression shifted from one of frustration to something infinitely more kind and intimate. He didn’t take a step toward her, but he did raise his hand and slip his fingers under her hair at the nape of her neck. His thumb brushed across her jaw and she stood still under his touch. After what seemed like forever, he bent forward and softly, gently, brushed his lips against hers. For a heartbeat, she allowed herself to close her eyes and just feel him.

  Her eyes opened when he pulled back a few inches. He held her gaze. “I understand what you’re saying, Kit, I do. I even respect it. But this isn’t the last conversation we’re going to have on the issue.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but even if she’d had a response, Garret wasn’t going to wait around to hear it. He dropped his hand, turned, and walked away.

  For a long time after the door had closed behind him, Kit just stood and stared at the place where he had been.

  CHAPTER 2

  LYING IN HIS BED upstairs, Garret could hear Caleb rummaging around in the kitchen. Caleb wasn’t much of a rummager, and when he moved around a room, he was naturally quiet as a mouse. That Garret could hear him up a flight of stairs, down a hall, and through a closed door said more about his friend’s state of mind than Caleb would ever actually say himself.

  A bird flying by the massive window caught Garret’s attention. He had the same kind of floor-to-ceiling windows in his room that Kit had in hers, and he turned his head and took in the snowy scene.

  Sort of.

  He did let his eyes take in the sweeping landscape—he and Caleb had spent the majority of the past few months moving in and out of South America’s jungles and crowded cities, so he had to adjust to the expansive views—but mostly, as his eyes adjusted, his mind was on Kit.

  She was right, of course. Not about not being together. In that, he knew she was very wrong, and he could work on that. What she had been right about was his love at first sight comment—it was true that the “at first sight” was the easy part; it wasn’t as though either of them had had to work at or even think about the instant attraction they had felt. But sticking with it over years and decades—through the good and bad times—took a lot more effort and said a lot more about a couple and their love for each other than what they had felt in the first seconds after they’d met.

  But even knowing that it was only with time that they would ever really discover if they were good together, he was hard pressed to forget the day, the instant, he’d met Kit. Caleb hadn’t wanted him to stay at her house five months ago when they’d come to help a friend of hers, so he had camped on her property instead. But somehow she’d found him—or his camp, rather, while he was in town picking up supplies. And the moment he’d come upon her, sitting on a log near his tent as if she had been waiting for him, was indelibly seared into his memory.

  He remembered coming to an abrupt stop, gripping his backpack of supplies, and simply staring. It hadn’t been so much the surprise of finding someone at his camp as the shock he had felt reverberate through his body when she’d looked up at him with her golden eyes. For a moment, he’d actually contemplated going down on his knees to thank god, or whomever, for sending her.

  He hadn’t, of course. Instead he’d walked slowly toward her. Her eyes had been wary but curious, following his movement. He’d told her his name and held out his hand; she had taken it in her own and offered him a tentative smile—as if to seal a deal neither of them had yet understood.

  Down in the kitchen, a drawer slammed and Caleb cursed, bringing Garret back to the present. He smiled. Kit’s brother rarely swore out loud; it just wasn’t his thing. It seemed that being in the presence of Kit had affected them both.

  Then Kit’s question from the night before echoed through his mind: What are you doing here? His smile turned to a frown. What were they doing there? And did it have anything to do with how Caleb was acting?

  Jackknifing off the bed, he rested his feet on the cold floor as he dug in his bag for a pair of socks. He was already dressed, and had been since he’d heard Kit leave earlier that morning, but he hated socks. That said, even though the house was well heated, coming from the South American summertime to a North American winter required some adjustment, even for him.

  Tugging a sock onto one foot, he let his eyes trail back to the windows. Again, Kit’s voice echoed in his ears: It’s almost enough to make me believe in magic. He could almost see that too. The morning light was just barely starting to make its appearance and, from Kit’s southwestern views, the shadows were shortening and the snow was starting to glisten and sparkle. It reminded him of a Christmas years ago, when some relative or another had tried to expose him to a little bit of culture by dragging him, aged eight, and his four-year-old sister, to The Nutcracker.

  He didn’t have many memories of the dancers, but he did remember the set—a snowy forest. As an adult, he’d seen his fair share of snow, but back then—back when he was eight and living in the bayous of southern Louisiana outside Baton Rouge—snow was about as foreign to him as ballet. He’d been captivated.

  Now, looking out Kit’s window, a tiny bit of that awe crept back into his soul, because it was stunning. Pristine and clean. And quiet. Too quiet, at the moment.

  After pulling on his other sock, he ventured do
wn to the kitchen, unsure of what he would find. What he did find when he walked into the room was Caleb sitting at the kitchen island, glaring at the cabinetry, resting his chin in his palm.

  “There a problem?” Garret asked, not bothering to stop the grin that tugged at his mouth.

  Caleb turned his glare on Garret for a full ten seconds, then finally threw his hands up.

  “I can’t find the fucking coffee,” he growled.

  Garret studied his friend for a long moment before turning to the freezer, opening it, and pulling out a bag of ground beans. After holding it up on display for a moment, just to needle Caleb, he went to the coffee maker on the counter and started making a pot. A big one.

  “How the hell did you know that?” Caleb finally demanded once the water had started to perk in the machine.

  Garret kept his back to Caleb as he shrugged. “It was just a guess.” Only it wasn’t, not really. Caleb knew nothing about Garret’s meeting with Kit last fall, and Garret had no desire to enlighten him. Thinking back on those three days he’d spent with her, during which they’d mostly just talked, he didn’t remember her drinking any coffee—though she’d had quite a few cups of tea. But even if Kit herself preferred tea, she was too conscientious not to have coffee available for visitors or friends, so in his mind, it made sense that she would have some coffee stored somewhere, and the freezer seemed to be the most common spot.

  When the coffeemaker beeped, Garret poured two cups, handed one to Caleb, then leaned back against the counter and studied his partner over the island. They’d been working together for nearly seven years and he had never seen Caleb so clearly agitated and tense.

  “What’s going on, Forrester?” Garret asked.

  Caleb took a sip of his coffee, then another, before he spoke. “I can’t find Kit.”

  Garret’s stomach dropped a bit. “What do you mean, you can’t find Kit?”

  “I’ve called her four times and every time it goes straight to voicemail,” he said, gesturing to his cell phone in disgust—as if it were the phone’s fault. “And I have no idea what time she left.”

  That settled Garret somewhat. He remembered she had mentioned errands, so it wasn’t as though her being away from the house was completely unexpected. “She left around six-thirty,” Garret supplied. “I heard her get up around six and get ready and then leave about thirty minutes later,” he added.

  “And you didn’t stop her?” Caleb demanded.

  Again, Garret studied his friend before speaking. “Why would I have stopped her, Forrester? What’s going on and why, exactly, are we here?”

  Caleb opened his mouth, shut it, and after a beat, responded. “I didn’t exactly invite you,” he pointed out.

  Garret’s curiosity increased tenfold at that comment. “You’re right. You didn’t. But you also didn’t tell me not to come. And since the only times we’ve ever not been together during the past six plus years was when we’d specifically scheduled R & R, and because this most definitely isn’t R & R, even though we’re at your sister’s, I’m thinking it’s a good thing I’m here, so why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  He crossed an arm over his chest and took a sip of the hot, strong coffee. He should have paid more attention and asked more questions when Caleb had said he was coming to visit Kit, but the thought of seeing her again had pretty much overwhelmed what little sense he’d had.

  “Forrester.” Garret added. His demand for information was implied, and thankfully, it worked. Caleb shot him a glare, but he didn’t leave the room.

  “You’re a nosy bastard this morning,” Caleb commented.

  “I’m always a nosy bastard, but I can usually read your mind or at least see the logic in what we’re doing, but this is different. Not that I mind coming here,” he said, gesturing to the luxurious surroundings with his coffee cup.

  Caleb took another sip of his coffee, then drummed his fingers on the island’s granite. Twice, he took a breath as if preparing to speak, but said nothing. When he finally looked up, Garret saw something in his friend’s eyes he’d never seen there before: worry.

  “That last deal we worked on, not Heinlach in Argentina,” he said, referring to the job that had so abruptly pulled them away from Windsor five months ago, “but the arms transfer we documented in Venezuela.”

  Garret nodded, remembering the last-minute favor they’d done for a friend, running surveillance on a transfer of illegal arms. It had been a quick and easy job because documentation was all their friend had needed—images, details on the cargo, transfer times, and those sorts of things.

  “Well, two of the people on the tarmac that day were faces I knew,” Caleb continued, ignoring Garret’s raised eyebrow. Caleb hadn’t said a thing as the transfer was going down, and that didn’t give Garret the warm fuzzies now.

  “One is a guy I had my eye on years ago. He showed up in an investigation I was running on the trafficking and transfer of arms and humans. Circumstances,” Caleb paused, and for a moment, his gaze seemed to take him back in time—a look of regret flashed across his face. Then he cleared his throat and continued. “Circumstances changed and I never had a chance to follow up on him, but from what I had gathered, he wasn’t a good guy.”

  This wasn’t surprising to Garret. They didn’t meet a lot of good guys in their business. “And the second guy?” he pressed.

  Again, Caleb looked away, and by the tensing of his jaw, Garret could tell it was this man whose presence really bothered Caleb.

  “He’s someone I knew growing up. Someone Kit knew. His name is Henry Michaels,” was all Caleb said.

  Garret took another sip of his coffee as he mulled over what Caleb had said, and what he hadn’t. In their line of work, it wasn’t unusual to see the same people crop up in different places at different times—it wasn’t like they were targeting dime-a-dozen petty thieves. No, in Garret’s experience, once a person had crossed the line far enough to come onto his and Caleb’s radar, they were already the kind of person who would pretty much do anything for anyone for the right price.

  And so it was the second person, the new guy, Michaels, who also caught Garret’s attention.

  “Tell me about Michaels,” Garret said.

  But Caleb shook his head. “I’m not going to get into it until I talk to Kit. Which is why I’m so pissed off that I can’t find her. I need answers.”

  Garret blinked and then very carefully picked his words. “Just what do you think Kit might be able to tell you? What kind of ‘answers’ do you think she’ll have?”

  Caleb’s eyes shot to his, no doubt responding to the measured, careful tone in his question. For a split second, Garret saw a question flash across his friend’s face. And then it went neutral.

  “I’m not sure,” Caleb said after a beat. “I just don’t like that two men from my past, one of whom Kit knows, showed up like they did—in the same place, at the same time, participating in the same thing.”

  “And you think Kit might be able to enlighten you as to why? Surely you don’t think she is involved in anything that even remotely touches our world?” Garret pressed.

  Caleb didn’t immediately agree, and Garret felt his blood pressure rise.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Garret said. “No way Kit is involved in anything, let alone arms dealing.” And as if to prove how ridiculous the notion was, he rose, turned his back on his friend, and began to wash out his coffee cup.

  “I don’t know,” Caleb finally answered.

  Garret had an urge to tell Caleb he did know, and there was no way Kit was involved in anything Caleb seemed to be questioning. But such certainty was bound to raise Caleb’s curiosity, so Garret carefully placed the mug in the drying rack and turned back around.

  “What do you know?” he asked.

  Caleb ran a hand over his face and shook his head, then seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say. “The first guy I mentioned? Well, I came across him years ago while I was tracking the
movements of one of his colleagues. That colleague is now dead but Michaels also had ties to that same guy—ties I had always assumed were just social,” Caleb paused then shook his head. “But seeing those two together all these years later did not make me feel all warm and tingly inside,” he added.

  “So, someone you knew growing up has ties to the trafficking business, and you’re just now learning that he might have been involved in the business all along? Is that what’s bothering you?” Garret clarified.

  Caleb hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

  “And what do you think Kit will be able to tell you about him?” he asked, still unclear where she came into play.

  Caleb ran his hand over his face, then rose from his seat. “Honestly? I don’t know what, if anything, Kit will be able to tell me, but I do have some questions about him, and at the very least, I’m hoping she might be able to give me some insight. She knew him much better than I did.”

  Garret didn’t like the sound of that and frowned in response. “In what way? There were five guys on the tarmac that day. Which guy was it?”

  But Caleb shook his head and started toward the stairs that led down to the lower level. “I’m going to try calling her again. Why don’t you try? Maybe if she doesn’t recognize your number, she’ll pick up. I’ll text you her number,” he added, unaware that Garret already had it.

  Garret watched Caleb’s form disappear down the stairwell, then stared at nothing in particular for a long moment. His number would show up on Kit’s phone, he’d programmed it in there five months ago. But whether or not she’d take his call was anyone’s guess. The good news was he knew he could get under her skin in a way that Caleb, as her brother, couldn’t. So with a smile, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number as he headed back to his room.