Page 117 of Maddox

“We were able to prevent additional casualties, but the thought that I’d betrayed the men was strong. Kage took it to heart. We fought. We got into physical altercations. Trust me, the guilt was killing me. I didn’t learn until recently Kage blamed himself for something else altogether. Which was ridiculous. I was to blame.”

“Following your gut wasn’t betrayal. You saved lives.”

“That didn’t matter and shouldn’t. I disobeyed orders and because of that, men lost their lives. Maybe the outcome would have been worse, but we’ll never know. It took all these years for Kage to find the guts to call me. Sadly, our friendship will never be the same, but I do trust him with my life. I hope he can say the same about me.”

“I’m certain he can. And why? Because he knows what you’re made of. He knows you’re a good man. Deep down inside you are, even if you do everything in your power to try and hide that fact.”

I peered down, lifting a single eyebrow. “Be careful psychoanalyzing me. You might not like what you find.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I already know I like what I see.”

“Be careful what you say to me, Charmaine, because when this is over, I might not be able to let you go.”

With a smile on her face, she brushed her hand across my jaw. “Have you stopped to think that maybe I don’t want you to?”

CHAPTER 29

Charmaine

“What are you working on?” Maddox asked from across the room.

Me being me, I closed the lid on my laptop, uncurling my legs and placing the computer on the coffee table. I’d been thankful I’d had it with me when I’d walked into the courtroom. In truth, I’d insisted on keeping it close by. At least no one had attempted to force me to show them my files. “Nothing.”

He spun around in his chair, providing one of his ‘stern’ looks, the one that suggested if I continued lying to him, he’d drag me across his lap. I shrugged and rose to my feet, folding my arms as I walked closer. “Just a few ideas I had.”

“For a story.”

“Maybe.” I’d tried to occupy my time by writing a novel, but after six dozen starts and stops, I’d been forced to realize I wasn’t capable of penning fiction. I was a journalist through and through and the thought of working for a tiny newspaper inDurango just wasn’t suitable. Could I freelance with theChicago Sun? Maybe, but I’d been advised strongly to cut all ties with my past. “Don’t worry. I’m using my new name.”

“Which is?”

I laughed before mentioning it. “Denise Holder. Catchy, eh?”

He cringed appropriately. “What are you writing?”

“Just something.”

His stern expression deepened. “You can’t write about Alfaro or what you suspect is going on and certainly not about what we discovered on the jump drive. Not only will doing so place your life in jeopardy, but you’ll likely be cited for contempt of court or obstruction of justice.”

“Since when did you become such a legal expert?”

“I’m serious.”

Sighing, I moved closer. “I know you are, but I need something to occupy my time. I worked in a coffee shop for three days and that was all I could take.”

“You need to find something else you’re good at.”

“Maybe interior design. This place could use some sprucing up.”

He laughed. “What’s wrong with modern man whore?”

“Nothing. If you’re a man whore.” I ran my fingers through his hair, messing it up completely. I preferred the freshly fucked look, which he wore with style.

“Something to aspire to,” he muttered and returned his attention to the computer screen.

“What do you think it means?” I asked as I peered over Maddox’s shoulder.

“I’m not certain, but there’s something about it that nags me.”

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