Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (22 page)

It was as dark as his soul, as barren as his future. It seemed that future could be as broken as her beautiful voice. How the hell had that happened? He’d ached with every word she’d spoken, the biggest part of him wanting to snatch her up and take her away so her could care for her. Ease her.

The file from her attorney had outlined everything. It had included her bank statements, credit purchases, monthly expenses. It had included a private investigator’s research into her movements for the last year, her acquaintances. It had included pretty much every damn thing she’d done for the last twelve months. It had also included detailed information about Gavin Hanson and Cardon Simmonds and their interactions. Phone records verified Sophie had never spoken with Cardon Simmonds, while Gavin had, frequently. Everything in that damn file had vindicated Sophie and vilified her brother and Cardon Simmonds.

The FBI had confirmed everything in the report. With the exception of working on the deals while not on a secure connection, she hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, except trust him. Her brother had used her, stolen the information from her, probably the same night Ryan had found her door unlocked, and then he’d sold it to Cardon Simmonds. How her brother had ever come into contact with Simmonds to begin with was still somewhat of a mystery. Simmonds may have known of Gavin’s relationship to Sophie or it may have just been fortuitous. Scum usually stuck together—it was a relatively small pool people like Simmonds and Gavin swam in. They were both in jail now. They’d both have to answer for treason and corporate espionage charges. You didn’t fuck with Uncle Sam’s property and get off lightly.

Hayden sank into the chair opposite Ryan’s desk and hung his head. “I’m so fucking sorry, bro. The only thing I could think was that she was going to hurt you. I let it blind me to everything else.”

Ryan looked at Hayden, remembered the young boy he’d been, how even though he’d been two years younger than Ryan, the other man had taken care of him. They’d been inseparable—Ryan the tiny kid who refused to stop baiting the bigger boys and Hayden, his protector.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes closed. “I didn’t piece it together either. I just assumed she was as guilty as that initial information made her look.”

Hayden pushed up off the chair and rolled his shoulders. “The AG dropped the investigation on Sophie once he filed charges against Simmonds and her brother. The satellite rights are ours again. Simmonds is going to be in jail for a long time. I called Chalmers and thanked him for the half-assed intel he gave us. I may have threatened to beat his ass next time I see him.” He walked to the door and turned to gaze at Ryan.

Ryan saw his friend’s reflection in the plate-glass windows and turned. Hayden looked miserable. Ryan cared but at the same time, didn’t. His best friend’s itchy trigger finger and inability to trust anyone, ever, had cost Ryan his heart. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Ryan was the one who’d messed up. This was all on him.

“Yeah?” Ryan asked.

“I’m going to go see her, tell her—” Hayden sighed.

“Tell her what, you’re a tool and I’m a bastard for not trusting her? Nah, at this point, she’s not going to listen to anything either of us says.”

“It’s my fault. I have to try,” his friend said.

“I said no, Hayden. Leave it alone right now. Leave it all alone.” Ryan turned back to gaze out at the black Atlanta sky.

Two weeks ago, he’d been inside her, their future as bright as the sun, and forever hadn’t been long enough.

He clenched his jaw as he heard the door shut behind Hayden.

Fuck
. Forever was now looking like a mighty long time.

Chapter 18

“You can’t just pack up and leave, Phie. What will I do without you?” Gigi said as she swigged a Coke filled with peanuts.

Sophie grunted and ripped the packing tape on the final box of her stuff. “Yeah, G, ’cause it’s all about you.”

“Yeah, it is. How about I move out to California with you?” Gigi tipped the bottle back and chomped on the Coke-flavored nuts.

“You’re welcome to, but Pops would be desolate,” Sophie pointed out. “Besides, I’ll visit and you can visit me.” She pushed the last box to the corner of her living room.

Everything was packed and ready for the movers. They were coming early tomorrow morning for the boxes and furniture. Her flight was at one tomorrow afternoon. Sophie had gotten a job at a security firm in San Diego and was moving. There’d been no problem finding a job with her degree, but she’d been worried her experience with ATC would prevent her from ever working in this profession again. At least with another security firm.

But find one she had, with a small start-up. She was looking forward to working again. It had been three weeks and her savings were trashed. Greg had told her a monetary settlement had been made to her by Ryan Locke and Hayden Bent, aka ATC, but she’d told him to keep it or give it to charity.

She didn’t want their money. They could shove it right up the crack of their asses and puke green for all she cared.

“Earth to Phie,” Gigi singsonged.

She shook her head. “What?”

“I asked if Pops and I can take you the airport tomorrow.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she replied. And she would. Her budget was tight for the next few months. She’d used the last of her savings to grab a small loft apartment in San Diego and pay the movers.

“Okay then.” Gigi grabbed her coat and purse. “You sure you don’t want to go out tonight? I’m not happy about you moping around here the entire night.”

Sophie laughed, but it was rusty. “I don’t mope, and yes, I’m sure.”

Gigi hugged her. “Your voice still has that after-sex-sexy going on. All right then, we’ll be by to pick you up around nine tomorrow morning. Call me if you change your mind, yeah?”

She followed her best friend to the door. “Yeah, but I won’t, so don’t hang by the phone.”

She saw Gigi out, ordered Chinese from Mu Lan’s, and sat on a box to wait for the order to arrive. It’d be the last time for a while she’d get to have the best damn Chinese food in Atlanta, and she was going to break open that final bottle of Hogue Genesis Cabernet Sauvignon to go with it.

It wasn’t a celebration, but it was a nod to new beginnings. Two months ago, she’d been a completely different person, taking care of her dying mother and struggling to make ends meet. Then she’d fallen in love, lost her mother, and eventually lost her heart.

Ryan Locke sucked ass.

The doorbell rang and she sighed as she walked to the door. She hoped she could find a Tinker Bell doorbell in California.

She opened the door. “Thanks, Chen, I—”

It wasn’t Chen.

Oh, hell to the motherfucking no
. She could deal with anything but him. She started to close the door. He stuck his foot in, and she slammed it just a bit harder than she normally would. He winced, but didn’t move his foot.

“I deserved that,” he said in a solemn voice.

Fuck your solemnity. Fuck you.

She looked up at him between the crack in the door and the jamb. There were a whole mishmash of feelings rumbling in her belly, but she refused to bow to them. He’d broken her. Her heart she could’ve gotten over … maybe. But breaking her soul?

She didn’t think she could heal from that.
Stupid, stupid man.

But she was finished with being a stupid woman. “What do you want, Mr. Locke?”

He winced again. Her heart thudded and anger pierced her. Anger at him, herself, hell, all of it.

Then he said the words that three weeks ago, she’d have died to hear. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

She steeled her spine, carefully blanked her face. She’d not evade this one. She’d put it to bed and leave it far behind. Her sanity demanded it. “I appreciate that.” She nodded. “Was there anything else?”

“Can I come in?” His voice was hesitant, but still so beautifully deep it made her heart spasm.

“I don’t think so. There’s nothing for you here,” she said in an even tone. “Now if you’ll leave?”

“I can’t leave, Sophie,” he replied, and it seemed forced from him.

He sucked with apologies. Oh well.
Hold on to that anger, Sophie. Hold on tight.

“You don’t have a choice, Mr. Locke. I believe we have concluded our business, and as I said: there is nothing for you here.” Her voice cracked at the end.
Stupid voice.

“I’ll stand here as long as I need to until you listen to me.” His face was a mask of determination, brows lowered, gorgeous, lush lips thinned.

She nodded. “Okay.” He shifted, took a small step backward, and she slammed the door, throwing the lock before he could turn the knob again.

She leaned against the door, breathing heavily, hand on her chest. God, she
hurt
. Nothing should hurt this much. How could he have done this to her?

She heard him walk off her porch and she headed to the kitchen. She may not get her Chinese. Better to open that Cabernet right now, toss back a few glasses and get shit-faced enough to forget her current circumstance. She poured and tipped the glass back, draining half before she set it down and took a deep breath.

“You really should get a new lock for that door. An infant could pick it,” he said from her kitchen entryway.

She squealed and knocked over her bottle of wine as she turned. She reached for it, already mourning the liquid draining to the floor. The bottle rolled off the counter and she picked up the glass instead, ready to wield it as a weapon. Wine sloshed on her hand and it pissed her off that much more.

“Damn you! I don’t fucking want you here!” she raged.

“There’s nowhere else for me to be,” he responded stoically.

Volcanically hot, her anger had a desperate need to be released. She’d held it in too long; it was virulent now, uncontrollable. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Near. Me,” she yelled and threw her wineglass at him.

Her yell fell far short of anything more than a hoarse kind of a squeak. His face as the glass hit him and spread red-purple liquid on his suit was priceless. Part of her was horrified. The other, bigger part, was all “Hell yeah, pour another one and chuck that bitch at his face.” Only she couldn’t. Most of her wine was now in a puddle on the floor. She hung her head.

“I deserved that, too,” he said quietly. The sound of it rumbled through her, made her ache.

“I’m sick of hearing you say that, Mr. Locke. Really sick of hearing you say that,” she whispered, pain rushing through her.

Sophie grabbed her final glass, slammed it on the counter. This wasn’t a wineglass. It was a small cracked shot glass she’d been meaning to throw away. She picked up the wine bottle, shook it and determined there was just enough left. What the hell, she thought. She poured a snifter full of the remaining Cabernet and shot it back. Good thing it was smooth.

She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and reached beneath the counter for her final go-to.
Oh, Mr. Daniels, we meet again. It’s lovely to see you.

Ryan reached around her and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from her hand. “No,” he said from behind.

She rolled her shoulders, straightened her spine, and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Somewhere
you
are not.” She grabbed her purse, but where the hell she was going to go on foot, in thirty-degree weather, wearing yoga pants and flip-flops, was anyone’s guess. She’d sold her car last week, but her legs worked fine. As long as she got away from him, she’d survive whatever the hell the weather spit on her.

“No, Sophie. You’re going to listen to me.” He grabbed her arm and she stopped, looked down at his restraining hand, and lifted a brow. “You’re going to give me a chance to apologize and make this right.”

She lost the anger, there one minute, the next … poof, it was gone. Now she just felt empty. “That you think you deserve a chance is humorous as hell to me. Also, in case you missed the memo, I no longer work for you, so you’re not the boss of me.”

He reached around her and closed her door, motioning her into the living room. She sighed and followed his direction. Her steps were slow as her heart raced and her mind writhed in turmoil.

“You’re moving?” he asked, looking around her bare living room as if he’d just noticed the boxes.

“None of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He walked to her windows, looked out, and took a deep breath. “I have so many things to say, Sophie. I don’t know where to start.”

“How about you don’t, and we just end this now. There’s really nothing I need, or want, to hear you say,” she tossed out and sniffed.

He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. He was giving off a strange vibe. That she could feel it at all disturbed her. She should have no connection to him at this point. She cocked her head, and he turned fully to her.

“I’m sorry, Sophie. For not trusting you, not believing in you, but most of all for not believing the woman I picked to love was all that I’d expected her to be. I can’t go back and change how it went down, but my apology stands.” He came to her then and stopped within inches of touching her.

“I love you, Sophie. No matter your name, no matter what’s happened, I love you. That isn’t going to change. I understand I’ve hurt you deeply, but never more than I’ve hurt myself. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize,” he finished and sighed deeply.

Her heart broke, and how the hell it did that she had no idea. Wasn’t she beyond any feeling at all? She kind of liked the numb. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “Not again. Please leave.”

He reached for her and she twisted away. If he touched her, she’d melt into a puddle at his feet, leave herself wide open for more of his brand of destruction.

He held his hands up and backed away. “I understand. I’ll leave.”

She watched all of this from behind her curtain of pain and fear. Reticence caged her voice, prevented her from acting on what her heart pleaded for.

He made it to the door and stopped. “I’m going to leave now. But I’ll be back, Sophie.” Then he walked out of her house.