Page 45 of Danger Close
The look in her eyes as she cowered behind him shattered me. I wanted to reach out, only for her to recoil. He stepped in as her white knight, and I stood there like a chump. The kid was doing my job.Iwas supposed to defend her. I was supposed to take care of her.
“Being the odd man out of a team is a far tougher experience than most people understand.” Beaufort grabbed a sugar packet and ripped it open over his coffee.
“How would you know?” I scoffed, my eyes going down his tan designer peacoat, hundred-dollar t-shirt, and Gucci jeans. Knowing his reputation as the best in his field, there was no way—
“I was a Black Navy SEAL,” he lifted a brow as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh.” I always forgot that part since I didn’t know him in the military. I only knew him as a spy. A very well-respected one, at that. That’s why he gave talks at West Point, the Pentagon, and was consulted on Cyber Security by the Joint Chiefs.
“Yeah,” Beaufort said, dragging out the word to really emphasize his sarcasm. “Oh.”
“I’m an asshole!” I admitted. “I’m sorry. It’s been a month of Sundays, and I wake up feeling like shit every single day.”
I twisted my shoulders, cracking my back. The lack of sleep the last couple of days was no help.
“What’s it called when you wake up hungover, but you weren’t drinking?” I asked, twisting my shoulders until they popped and cracked.
“Turning fifty. That’s what it’s called.” He chuckled, softly. “It’s all downhill from here.”
“Shit. How old are you? I could have sworn you were younger than me.” I wiped my face with my palm, and sighed. “I never expected to live this long.”
“Me neither.” Dave’s voice was heavy, almost disappointed. “And I’m older than you.”
“No shit?” Damn, I was looking rough then.
“By three months.” He coughed, before getting us back on track. “I started digging into the missus, based on the summary you sent me.”
I’d sent him a copy of Jericho’s findings. I hoped it’d help expedite things.
Beaufort put down his coffee mug, then straightened.
The tapdancing, rapport-maintaining part of our conversation was over, and now, we were in negotiations. “I don’t know if I should give this to you, so I’m gonna ask you a few questions.”
I frowned but nodded. I’d answer whatever I needed to. I had nothing to hide. Not anymore.
“Why do you care so much?” The intensity of Beaufort’s gaze warned me that any twitch, any flash of a micro expression would be scrutinized.
He wasn’t just reading my words. He was reading my face, and body as well.
“Someone hurt my wife.” Before he could interrupt, I lifted my hand. “And before you say anything, I get it. We’re divorced. But someonehurther. No one has a right to do that. Not even me. Someone committed grievous harm on the mother of my child. I need to know who did it.”
So I could skin them alive, and dismember them.
Beaufort’s eyes narrowed. “Are you pissy that she got wet for someone else? Jealousy’s not a good look, my friend.”
“No.” I never broke eye contact. “But if he laid a finger on her, I will break his hand.”
Was I jealous? A little bit. But it was nothing compared to my need to protect her. She needed a high wall and a moat to keep her away from all the perils.
“Pah!” Beaufort scoffed, “I’ve seen your lady. She’s beautiful. Many a man would kill to have her—”
Before he lewdly said anything designed to make my temper snap—another technique to get people to give up the truth—I interrupted him, “I need to fix whatever’s going on between her and my daughter.”
Beaufort tilted his head.
Spies, in general, categorize people into neat little groups. Most men who want to know about their ex-wives are controlling, jealous pricks. That wasn’t me. I was a prick, but I was not motivated by jealousy.
“You wanna make me seem like a red pill chump, fine. But you know I’m not.” Nothing, and I meannothingin my past would ever suggest that I wasthatscumbag. “She’s my family. We might be divorced, but she’s stillfamily.”
