Engaging Bodyguard Page 19

  “I want to thank you for coming today.” His eyes, a soft leather-brown, shadowed with remorse when they touched first on her neck then on the bandages around her wrists. “Frankly, I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  “I have to admit, I was surprised.” Celeste smiled and discreetly—because of a sharp twinge of pain—tugged her hand free. The lacerations, although deep, were healing quickly, along with her neck bruises, which had faded to a dull yellow.

  “Please, so we can talk.” He indicated a plush cream couch to her right. Instead of taking the opposite couch though, he sat next to her, surprising her. “First of all, I want to apologize for my actions and conduct after Bobby’s death. You did your best, just as I did, in trying to protect him. But I couldn’t see that at the time.”

  “Understandably. You were set up just as much as I was.” Slowly, Celeste sorted through her words. “More so because of your emotional state at the time. I believe the worst thing that can happen to parents is the loss of a child.” It emptied the soul of the family, leaving their spirits whisper-thin. Bobby’s murder would be an experience that would haunt her for the rest of her life. “And to be honest, Mr. President, you couldn’t have blamed me any more than I blamed myself.”

  “I’m sorry for that, too,” he said gently and cleared his throat. Instantly changing the mood, he smiled. Not the politician’s smile she’d seen plastered across the papers but a genuinely kind smile. “I haven’t thanked you properly for saving my life.”

  “It really isn’t necessary—”

  “But it is. If I had my way, you’d receive a medal. And you still may.” He patted her shoulder. “But for now, I want to thank you personally.” He leaned over until his lips lightly brushed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  Startled, Celeste stared at him until he winked. A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re welcome.”

  “Now…” He settled back into the cushion and studied her for a moment, his solemn expression reminding her more of a father’s than of a world leader’s. “…I have an official favor to ask.”

  Celeste waited, felt the hum of nervousness between her shoulder blades.

  “I want you to work for us again. Work for Labyrinth.”

  A month ago, Celeste would never have considered it. But a month ago, she’d believed herself a failure.

  “You are under no obligation, of course.” The president cleared his throat. “But I’d like to point out that with no store and a only a hotel for your current home, your future—”

  “I accept.”

  It was President Cambridge’s turn to be startled. “You do?”

  “Oh, yes.” She laughed slightly, understanding his surprise. It was no greater than her own. “But I do have one concern.” All humor disappeared. “I’ve achieved some notoriety because of the events in Shadow Point.”

  “Your notoriety, in this case, will help us. For now, your speaking schedule can be adapted to wherever we need you. You’ve proven quite effective in the field. Later, we’re hoping to utilize your talents in our recruiting process.” He patted her hand. “Hold on one moment.” In two quick strides, he reached his desk and hit the intercom. “Ms. Fisher?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Could you please catch my prior appointment? I need him to join Ms. Pavenic and myself for a moment.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. He’s still here.”

  Celeste quirked a brow in question just as the door opened behind her. Apprehension skittered up her spine. She twisted around.

  Cain.

  He crossed the room with his usual predatory grace, dressed in his customary black snug-fitting slacks, tie and shirt. Leaner, with sharper edges, Cain studied her. His jaw, she noted, was shadowed with dark whiskers. If she’d thought he looked lethal before, it didn’t compare to now.

  “Mr. President.” He shook hands with Cambridge. The greeting was casual, almost too casual, Celeste realized and squared her shoulders.

  “Cain.” The president nodded toward Celeste. “Miss Pavenic has agreed to rejoin Labyrinth.”

  “Good.” Cain replied evenly, his features impassive.

  Celeste’s mouth tightened, understanding. “You’ve taken over as director.”

  “Jon decided to retire earlier than expected.” Cambridge’s answer did nothing to disperse the growing tension in the air. “And although it hasn’t been made public yet, he has graciously accepted my appointment as vice president. Of course, both Houses need to agree. But considering his record, there shouldn’t be any problem.”

  “You’ll be working for me, Celeste,” Cain emphasized.

  Under duress, she was sure.

  “Your field duties will be limited, of course.”

  “Is that right?” Irritated that Cain was still protecting her, Celeste turned to Cambridge. “I’ve reconsidered, Mr. President. And although I’m flattered, I’m declining your offer.”

  “Why?” Cain’s question was bland, almost bored. She understood the thinly veiled warning for what it was. He wasn’t going to back down.

  “Because I have that right.” She scowled, her fist tightening on the strap of her leather purse. She tried to calm herself with a deep breath.

  “Of course you do.” The president hesitated, obviously puzzled. “But I was hoping—”

  Cain grasped her arm and started toward the door. “I know you’re a busy man, Mr. President. So we’ll take our…negotiations…elsewhere.”

  “No, we won’t.” Her mouth firmed, her heels dug in. “Since the president offered me the job, I expect to deal with him and only him.”

  “Yes, well…” Robert Cambridge moved to the door, his brows furrowed with curiosity. “Actually, Cain requested your reinstatement. I merely lent my support. So you do need to discuss your concerns with him, Miss Pavenic.” His gaze moved warmly over Celeste. “Thank you again for all you’ve done for my family.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Realizing she’d lost her only ally, Celeste turned on Cain. “Unfortunately, I’m running late for another meeting. I’ll contact your office so we can set up an appointment.”

  “No,” Cain drawled.

  Before Celeste could react, he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Careful to avoid her injuries, he walked through the door.

  Cambridge’s stifled laughter followed them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Celeste arched her back, hoping to elicit some help, but no one from the offices along the corridor moved, although several men and women stared. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, feeding her fury. Apparently, not even the Secret Service challenged Cain MacAlister. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “If I’ve learned nothing else in the past few weeks, I’ve learned you don’t understand the word stay.” He readjusted his arm, pinning her skirt to the back of her knees. “And frankly, you could drive any man insane.”

  Cain reached the elevator and jabbed the button. “I’m taking you somewhere private, so we can talk about the future.”

  “Put me down!” Longing pulled at her, hard and deep, igniting a flare of irritation. She punched his backside, almost hurting her knuckles on the tight, firm muscles.

  “No.” The elevator doors slid closed, and Celeste buried her face against his back. He smelled of leather and soap. Her fists curled against the temptation to inhale more deeply.

  “Why, Cain?” She gritted her teeth in frustration. Frustration not from being carried through the White House in such a humiliating manner, but from fear of letting her feelings for him show. “Why did you come here? Ms. Fisher didn’t just catch you. You were waiting.” They hadn’t fooled her, and she wanted him to know it.

  “The pretense was the president’s idea.” His voice, husky with patience, vibrated across her thighs. Desire shot through her, causing a sharp intake of air.

  Outside, a limo was waiting. Celeste only caught a glimpse of it before he slid her down the front of him, causing a jolt when thi
gh touched hip. “He wanted the chance to thank you personally for what you did,” Cain continued casually, as if his carrying a woman through the White House was an everyday occurrence. “And to find out if you’d forgiven him.”

  Before she could reply, the limousine driver swung open the door, and caught Celeste’s eye. “Jordan!”

  “At your service, Poppet.” Relieved to find another ally, Celeste couldn’t help but smile over the nickname he’d given her. For the last two weeks, Jordan Beck had made it his business to become her friend. He’d confessed to being the reason Cain hadn’t been with her during Bobby’s kidnapping and the aftermath. When Celeste admitted that she’d already come to terms with Cain’s decision, knowing it couldn’t have happened any other way, Jordan seemed relieved.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she told Jordan, returning his quick hug, careful not to jar the sling that held his arm.

  Dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, Jordan Beck looked nothing like a chauffeur. “Actually, I insisted on driving. I thought you needed someone to cover that lovely tush for a bit, and I wanted to make sure this bloke here didn’t intimidate you.”

  For the sake of time, Cain let the comment pass. “All right, Beck. You’ve said your hellos.” Capturing Celeste’s elbow, Cain urged her inside the car, not surprised when she refused to move.

  He sighed, letting his impatience show. He wanted her in the car and in his arms. So much so, he didn’t care if Jordan heard. “I’ve waited long enough to talk to you, Celeste. You wouldn’t see me at the hospital, wouldn’t return my calls at the hotel. If I have to pick you up and toss you in, I will.”

  Uncertainty had her biting her lip, and Cain pushed his advantage. When she slid a glance at Jordan, Cain’s glare followed.

  Jordan shrugged, but a grin tugged at his mouth. “It’s the least you could do, Poppet. The man has been chomping at the bit all week.”

  “Jordan—” Cain warned, biting off the rest of his remark and instead turned back to Celeste. “Get in.”

  Lifting her chin, she stepped into the limo. “Raise the privacy window, Beck. You know where we’re headed.” Cain eased onto the leather upholstery after a quick salute from his friend. Celeste sat as far away from him as possible. Which, considering it was a stretch limo, was quite a few feet. His mouth twisted wryly over the distance. “Just in case we decide to neck.”

  The slight widening of Celeste’s eyes, and the subtle flush to her cheeks pleased him and he poured himself two fingers of whiskey. MacAlister whiskey. A present from his father. Cain lifted the glass, asking, and she shook her head.

  “Just where are we headed?”

  Deliberately misunderstanding, Cain said. “That’s what I want to find out.” He drank the whiskey, then set the glass aside.

  “You never used to play games, Cain,” she whispered.

  Wanting to skip the words, but knowing the explanations needed to come first, he leaned forward and placed his forearms on his knees. “Remember when you said we all have our pasts to deal with? Well, you were right, we all do. Mercer, Quamar. You. Myself.”

  Her jaw flexed but she didn’t look Cain’s way. Instead she continued to gaze through the window as Washington, D.C., passed by. “How is Quamar?”

  “He came out of the coma a few days ago.” Cain’s hesitation brought her around.

  “But,” she prompted.

  “He’s blind, Celeste.” Cain had visited Quamar the day before. The giant seemed in good spirits, but Cain had recognized his friend’s underlying fear. “He’s undergoing a battery of tests and his doctors are considering surgery. The prognosis is good.”

  “Is he allowed visitors?”

  “Yes.” He reached over to touch her arm, but she shifted away. “Damn it.” He yanked a hand through his hair. It was either that or yank her into his lap.

  “Remember when you accused me of being the self-appointed protector of mankind? You were right.” He braced his elbows on his knees, and locked his hands together. “Prometheus was the god who provided man with fire against Zeus’s wishes. So, in retaliation, Zeus had him chained to a rock where a giant eagle tore at his liver all day, only to have it grow back every night for the eagle to devour again.”

  “I know the story.”

  “Part of me is Prometheus. And I wouldn’t change that. Because that’s what kept me alive.”

  “If we agree—”

  Cain wasn’t finished. “But you’re Lachesis, too, Celeste. And Diana. No matter how much you run away, they remain a part of you. That’s why the Labyrinth job is yours. Not to prove anything to you, but because I know you’ll do a damned good job.”

  “It’s mine with restrictions,” she corrected, not bothering to hide her bitterness.

  “That’s right. Not to protect you, but to train you. I wouldn’t send any operative out in the field without proper training. Especially not one I’m in love with.”

  A small flame of hope flared, but she brushed it away. “Loving me is not enough. Not anymore. I’m not sure it ever was.” Celeste swung away, unable to deal with the hurt that squeezed her chest. “I thought that the more I cared for you, the more I’d understand you. But the reality is that the more you care for me, the more barriers you put up preventing me from seeing into you. Even when we’re…” She stopped unable to continue.

  “Making love?” he murmured rhetorically. “Not any more. No more secrets—unless I’m held to the restrictions by my job.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “You think I’m lying? This thing between us—you think that’s a lie, too?” Through his fury, he recognized the truth. Why should she believe him? Up to this moment, the only time he’d shared any part of himself with her was when he’d whispered it as she lay half-unconscious in the lighthouse.

  Celeste stared at him, confusion rimming the deep blue of her eyes, furrowing her brow. A strange tenderness swept through Cain, dissipating the anger, the frustration.

  He almost gave in to the urge to touch her, the ache to hold her. But unless she came willingly, the gesture was hollow. “Fate bonded us. Maybe I’d been so lost in a dark, emotionless hole that I needed someone like you, something like this to bring me out of it.”

  He joined her on her seat, craving her nearness, wanting to comfort her. “Gabriel’s dead. He wouldn’t be if you hadn’t done your job. I…” He gave in then and tipped her chin up. “…would be dead, if you hadn’t.”

  He brought his face close, until they were nose to nose. “You made the call, Celeste.” Anger flashed across his feature, startling her.

  For the first time she noticed. All his emotions—love, hurt, rage—were there on his face, something the old Cain would never have allowed, would never have shared.

  Anger, frustration, desperation gushed through her. She fought them off. And the tears. The tears were the hardest. “I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I can’t give it to you.”

  “I just want your love. And your trust—when I’ve earned it again. Nothing else. I had to fight through hell and back to get to the feelings I have. And like Prometheus, I’ve had my insides eaten out again and again.”

  His forehead tipped against hers. His breath came in shaky heaves. He was frightened. Just as she was. Through her mind flashed an image of a two-story house, kids running through a sprinkler screaming, a puppy nipping at their ankles.

  “You once told me you loved me, Celeste. I won’t let you take it back, because only you can save me.”

  “No,” she whispered, but she felt the wall around her heart splinter, each shard driving deep. Her jaw trembled, and she clenched it. “It’s not that easy. Finally, in the past few weeks, I’m beginning to realize who I am. What I am. I’m strong. Not invincible, but strong. All my life I leaned on Grams, Jon, even you—using what others thought of me to fill the empty void inside me. I don’t need that anymore. I don’t need you or anyone anymore, for that matter. I can rely on myself, take care of myself, Cai
n. I might love you, but I don’t need your love back. I’ll survive better without it.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” he growled, his gaze pinning her to her seat. “You can survive by yourself and take care of yourself. You don’t need love or emotion or anyone in order to live the life you’ve chosen?” Desperation laced each syllable he uttered. He shifted away, almost as if he couldn’t bear the closeness any longer.

  The car slowed to a stop and the privacy window lowered, the hum of it doing nothing to dissipate the tension. “Cain.”

  Cain scowled, the bite in his words showing his displeasure over the interruption. “What is it, Jordan?”

  “Our guest is getting restless up here. He’s starting to take his irritation out on the passenger seat. I thought I might toss him back with you for a while.”

  A sharp yowl hit the walls of the limo. Celeste glanced over as Jordan, one-handed, dropped Pan through the window onto the bench seat below. An emerald-green bow puffed up behind the back of his head, but it wasn’t until Pan sauntered forward that she saw the sapphire ring hanging from his collar. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t want to think about its meaning. “Where did you come from?”

  “Your hotel.” Cain uncoiled from beside Celeste, then leaned over and picked Pan up. “I snagged him from your room along with your luggage.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought you and your family would like to spend some time with my family before you started work.” Cain’s scowl darkened; his response was surly and impatient.

  “I think I’ll pass, Cain. There’s no need to prolong—”

  “What about Pan?” He handed the cat to Celeste. “Do you still need him?”

  “Of course.” She stroked the minklike coat, hearing the purr of pleasure, ignoring the ring clinking against his collar. “He’s my responsibility.” Her hand froze, realizing.

  “Your responsibility?” Startled, she caught the stab of anger in his question, the accusation. “Only two weeks ago, you would have said he was your family.”

  “He is.” She gathered Pan close to her chest, burying her trembling fingers in his fur. “I love Pan. You know that.”