Playing For Keeps (The Alpha Brotherhood #3)(35)
Author: Catherine Mann

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh…” Disappointment and confusion swirled inside her. “What did you mean, then?”

He drew in a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you can go no further, but I want you to know I trust you. That I’m committed.”

There was that commitment word again.

“I work for Colonel Salvatore—” he paused “—and John Salvatore works for Interpol.”

Eleven

Celia struggled to grasp what Malcolm had just told her, but what he’d shared seemed so unbelievable, so unexpected. He couldn’t be serious. Except, as she looked at him, she saw he was completely sincere. He was some kind of secret agent.

“Interpol?” she asked, needing more details, needing some frame of reference for how this could be possible. “I’m really not tracking with what you’re saying. You’re going to need to help me understand.”

“I’m trusting you with very sensitive information here. Salvatore manages a group of freelance operatives for Interpol. People he taps maybe once or twice a year for undercover help gathering evidence in an international criminal investigation. Because of my job, I move in some influential circles—some of them with shady ties. Having someone like me on the Interpol roll saves having to spend months building a cover.”

As he explained, pieces shuffled in her mind. Other things began to make sense.

“That’s how you knew about the threats against me. You have connections, intelligence connections.” Her skin prickled with icy realization. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Just keeping track of your life to make sure you’re all right.” He frowned. “That didn’t sound right. Not in a stalking sort of way. More like a request to my boss that I be notified if you had a problem. The truth about my job isn’t something I’ve told anyone other than you.”

“Not even your manager? Or your friends?” All of his high-profile friends who had gone to Colonel Salvatore’s school. Had they all gathered around to guard her? Or did they connect because they could discuss their common job? “Are they also freelance agents with high-

profile lives—”

He kissed her silent. “Don’t ask questions I’m not allowed to answer. I shared with you as much as I can to let you know I’m not taking what happened between us here lightly. This meant something to me. You mean something to me. I’m trusting you. Can you offer me some trust in exchange?”

His words so closely echoed ones they’d said to each other before, a replay of their past. He’d wanted her to trust that he could carve out a future for them. She’d needed him to trust her decision to give the baby up for adoption. In the end, they’d both gone their separate ways rather than risk being hurt.

They were older now, wiser. But they didn’t seem to have a helluva lot more answers. As much as she wanted to lose herself in this time away from Azalea, it seemed her home and past just kept right on following her.

In fact, a huge part of that past waited for her in London when she saw his mother again.

* * *

After the flight to London, Malcolm drove his Aston Martin deeper in the rolling English countryside. He’d trusted Celia with a lot in Amsterdam, but that revelation hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He’d hoped she would feel safer, that she would understand he was trying to welcome her into his world. Sharing the truth about his Interpol world had been a big step for him. Hell, admitting he still had feelings for her had been a giant leap.

And she’d reacted with silence and more silence. He could see the wheels turning but didn’t have a clue what she was thinking. He could only hazard a guess. Was she upset over his hidden job? Worried? She didn’t look as if she was having an anxiety attack.

He glanced at her sitting beside him in the silver sports car. “You’ve been quiet since we left Amsterdam.”

She smiled over at him, her hair carrying on the breeze through the open window. “I thought men liked peace.”

“Maybe I’m getting intuitive in my old age.” He draped his wrist over the steering wheel, guiding the finely tuned machine along the curving two-lane road past an apple orchard.

“Or maybe you got those intuitive skills from your second job,” she said as if joking, but not quite hitting the note.

“Freelancing for Interpol isn’t nearly as intriguing as it sounds.”

“Can you tell me anything about the cases?”

He weighed his words, wanting to give her what he could to bring her peace so they could move forward. He’d told her to make things easier between them, not more complicated. “Think of the corruption that goes on in the entertainment industry.”

“Drugs?”

“I already have a built-in backstory on that one,” he said darkly, thinking of his brush with the law as a teenager.

“Your partying lifestyle is a cover?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He took her palm in his, her dress silky against the back of his hand. “I haven’t been a saint since I left home, but I do not touch drugs. I never would, especially not after what my father put my mother through.”

“Your father was into drugs?” she asked, surprise lacing her voice.

“He was a meth addict.” The admission burned, along with anger and betrayal. “He was the stereotypical stoned musician in a going-nowhere band. He blew through everything he and my mother had worked for. He would have sold his soul—or his family—for his next fix.”

“Your mother’s been through a lot.” Celia’s fingers gripped his tighter. “I’m sorry I put you in a position where you were forced to hurt her.”

“Stop blaming yourself for everything that happened. I take responsibility for my own actions.” He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles. “You make me sound like I had no say in things. I wanted you. I would have done anything to have you in my life.”

“Not anything…” she said softly, turning her head toward the open window as if the cottages and sheep were infinitely interesting.

“Hey.” He tugged her hand until she turned back to him again. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. So how much farther to this home of yours?”

He started to press her on the point, but then he noticed the nervous way she chewed at her thumbnail. She wasn’t as calm as she pretended. He thought of her issues with anxiety and pulled back, saving the question for a better time.