Page 46 of Cyn
“Officially, it’s scheduled to be in Chicago, where they both grew up, in early June,” Lucy continued. “Unofficially, well, let’s say Beni has invited several people back down to Tildas Island for areunionin early March.” Tildas Island was the island where Beni and her team had been based when she and Cal had reconnected.
“I’ll call Alexis and send a gift,” Cyn replied. Alexis Wright was another agent on the task force. When the task force had completed its mandate, she’d been asked to stay and head the new permanent office on the island. By happenstance, Alexis and Cyn had also known each other as teenagers, both coming from the rarified world of the uber rich, and both having grown up in Europe.
“She’ll like that,” Lucy said. “Back to the task at hand, though. When do you expect to hear from Beni?”
“Joe called her yesterday. We’d hoped to hear something last night, but maybe tonight.”
“Keep me posted? I know an attack anywhere would be terrible, but Boston is home so…”
Yes, Cyn knew what Lucy was saying. She’d married into the DeMarco family and adopted Boston as her home. The DeMarcos had a long history of protecting Boston in all sorts of ways, and the family was somewhat legendary in law enforcement. They had members in every branch of the military, and those not serving in the military all served Boston in various ways, including police, FBI, SWAT, and bomb squad members. You name any branch of public service, and there’d be at least one DeMarco in it.
“I will,” Cyn agreed without hesitation. Not only was Boston home for Lucy and her family but it also wouldn’t hurt to have the DeMarcos on her side.
Lucy let out a long breath. “Thanks. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll have something for you.”
“No,thank you,” Cyn said before ending the call.
In the quiet of her office, Cyn shifted her gaze from her computer to the large picture window. Dark clouds hovered on the horizon, blending with the gray of the ocean. A lone fishing vessel bobbed out on the water, making its way back to the harbor. She frowned. It wasn’t exactly a day for fishing, but then again, for many commercial fishermen, if they didn’t fish, they had no income.
Sending good thoughts to the boat for a healthy catch and a safe ride home, Cyn swung her attention back to her phone and the clock on its face. Joe would arrive in thirty minutes, and Lucy was working away on her thing. It was time for some pizza and wine.
Chapter Seventeen
Joe pulledinto the garage at Cyn’s house a few minutes after six. His stomach was tight—and not in the good way—and the nerve endings on his arms and neck were telling him something wasn’t right. Not that he thought that something had happened to Cyn at home or that she was in danger, but the small hesitation he’d heard in her voice earlier when he’d asked about her day had played over and over in his head since they’d ended the call.
Shucking his boots in the mudroom and hanging up his jacket, he sauntered into the kitchen to find Cyn leaning over, her elbows braced on the counter, a wineglass in one hand and the other leafing through a magazine. She looked up and in that moment, when she smiled at him and pleasure infused her eyes, he realized that they were inthistogether. Whateverthiswas, they were now a team because there was no way in hell he was going to give up those smiles. And judging by the look in her eyes, she felt the same.
Without a word, he stalked toward her. She straightened, and when he reached her, he took her wineglass from her hand, set it on the counter, slid his hands into her hair, and kissed her. And kissed her.
Her small hands came up to rest on his chest, her right palm resting over his heart that, in this moment, beat for her. For them.
“Miss me?” she asked when he pulled back.
He cocked a smile. “About as much as you missed me.”
She smiled again, then moved away when the timer on her phone went off. Reaching for the device, she nearly knocked her wineglass over and his hand shot out to stay her motion. His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and, to his shock, she let out a gasp and spun away from him, curling her arm against her side.
His stomach plummeted. “Cyn?”
She was taking deep breaths, the kind people took when they were fighting nausea or pain. He barely stopped himself from spinning her back around and demanding to know what the problem was. Instead, after a few breaths of his own, he forced himself to move in front of her. Dipping his head to better look her in the eye, he waited.
“Give me a minute,” she said, flickering her gaze to his as she spoke. Her normally fair skin was pale.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked, amazed that he managed to keep his voice soft and reasonable when that was pretty much the exact opposite of how he felt.
Her eyes darted around before meeting his. She gave him a half-smile. “Can you get the pizza out?”
He searched her face for any sign that she was holding out on him but found nothing. Trusting she’d tell him what he really wanted to know once she was able, he walked to the oven, grabbed the oven mitts, and pulled out a fresh-baked bubbling pizza.
Setting it on the counter to cool for a few minutes, he picked up the plates and utensils she’d already set out and took them to the table.
“Want a top off?” he asked, gesturing to the wine bottle when he returned to her side.
She nodded. “Half glass, though, please. There’s a glass for you, too, but there’s also beer in the fridge if you like. There’s also a salad and dressing in there.”
Again, he studied her. Some of the color was coming back to her face and the hold she’d had on her arm as she clutched it across her stomach had loosened.
“Why don’t you go sit down, and I’ll get the rest of the stuff out? Once we’re settled, you can tell me what that was all about,” he suggested, gesturing to her arm. There was a slight hesitation, then she nodded and moved to the table.
