Hold on to Me (11 page)

“No, he didn’t.” Caitlin covered her mouth, muffling her amusement. The simple act of laughing felt so
good
. Giving in to the temptation to learn more about Tick felt even better.

Cookie chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Damn sure did. Ol’ Tick calmly stops the cruiser, shoos the chicken out of the car and heads on to the call. We left chicken feathers in his locker for weeks.”

She relaxed into the seat, holding her stomach. “Oh, that’s funny. I’d love to have seen his face.”

“Then there was the freak ice storm we had. Roads slick as owl snot, wrecks everywhere. We pull up at the 41 and 336 crossroads and Lamar Eugene is gonna run from the car to the latest fender bender. Only he’s wearing shiny new duty shoes. One good stride and he was on his ass.”

“And of course, you just stood and laughed at him.”

“Hell, no. I went to help him up and fell on my ass. We had to freakin’ crawl back and use the car to get on our feet. Everybody at the little curb store was standing outside, hooting and hollering at us. Of course, by then, we were laughing so hard neither of us could stand up.”

She could picture it, could almost hear the rich sound of Tick’s deep laugh. She ran a fingertip down her longneck. Okay, she’d indulged enough. Time to change the subject. “Too bad Gina and I are so normal, or I could—”

“You should give Calvert a chance.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers together. “You two would be good together.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took a nonchalant sip of the beer she’d been nursing all night, the bottle still half-full. Good together? If Cookie only knew. They’d been better than good, in bed and out. At one time, she’d had hopes for the two of them, based on how absolutely incredible it had felt between them.

“Right. You never noticed the guy tripping all over himself when you’re around.”

She pinned him with a withering look. He was on a fishing expedition, but if he thought she’d fall for the oldest interrogation trick in the book, she had news for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“If you don’t shut up about it, Cook, I’m going to kick your ass. Right here, right now.”

“Stop.” He picked up a toothpick and began cleaning under his thumbnail. “You’re turning me on.”

“Get this straight. There is nothing between Tick Calvert and me.” Not anymore.

“Sure, there’s not. And that’s why he’s headed this way, ready to knock my dick in the dirt.”

Startled, she glanced up, straight into Tick’s infuriated gaze. Her stomach fluttered, but she dredged up a smile and a little false courage. “Tick. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah,” Tick snapped, brows drawn together in a dark frown. “What’s going on?”

Cookie slid an arm along the back of his seat. “We’ve just been going over the particulars of the Ingler case.”

“Over beers in a bar?”

She didn’t like the note of accusation in his tone. “We’re both off duty.”

“It doesn’t look right, Cait.”

She analyzed his attitude with ridiculous ease. He was, amazingly, jealous of Cookie. She wasn’t above using the emotion to her advantage, either.

With an effort, she relaxed and smiled at him, injecting just the right amount of ice into the expression. “You and I did the same thing over the Reese case a few years ago, and several times while you were prepping for that undercover assignment in Mississippi. Was that different?”

He stiffened, his gaze freezing over, and he stared at her, the moments stretching out in slow motion. Hands shoved in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “No, I guess it’s not. Cookie, give us a minute, would you?”

“Yeah. Be right back.” He levered himself up from the booth and ambled toward the bar.

Tick slid into the vacated seat. He looked at her for a long moment, confusion darkening his eyes to black. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

She pointed at the files scattered over the table. “We’re working.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why not let me know where you’d be?” His voice vibrated with pained anger and that jealousy that made her stomach turn. Damn it, she was hurting him, but it didn’t have to be this way, if he’d just let things
go
. Maybe if she pushed as hard as he did?

She poured on the frost. “The last time I checked, I was an adult. I haven’t checked in with anyone since I was sixteen.”

Frustration tightened his face. “Is this because I kissed you?”

She straightened the folders into a neat stack and glanced up at him, making a dismissing gesture with one hand. “What happened earlier today doesn’t matter.”

“So you can turn it on and off like a switch. When did you get so damned cold? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A lot happens in a year. People change.”

“Obviously.” His voice dropped. “What did I do, Cait? What turned you against me while I was gone?”

“Nothing. I’m just not interested—”

“Get real. We already covered that this afternoon.”

“No, you get real.” She leaned forward. “When are you going to realize it doesn’t matter how hard you push or how long you try to hold on to me, Tick? It’s over and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t make me want you, you can’t
make
me take you back.”

“You know, from where I’m sitting it doesn’t feel over.”

“What if it was Tori we were talking about and some guy who just wouldn’t back off? How would you feel then?”

His face paled, and he jerked as if she’d slapped him. “You know, Falconetti, sometimes I just don’t like you.”

She couldn’t look as stricken as he did. Her mask was too practiced. “Like I haven’t heard that one before, Calvert. Why don’t you go ahead and get it over with—call me a bitch. You’ll feel better.”

He stood, contempt tightening his mouth. “Because my mother taught me to treat a woman with more respect than that, whether she deserved it or not.”

Refusing to flinch from the insult, she simply regarded him with a tiny smile. “Funny. You must have missed a couple of lessons. You respect me too much to call me a bitch, but not enough to honor my wishes.”

She wouldn’t have thought his face could lose more color, but it did, his eyes burning black with fury.

“You wanted us to be just colleagues,” he snapped, the words harsh and clipped. “Well, you got your damn wish, Falconetti. Believe me, beyond finding this son of a bitch, I want nothing more to do with you.” He leaned in, holding her gaze with his. “I’m done.”

He threaded his way through the crowd, but never looked back. She swallowed the rising lump in her throat and left enough money on the table to cover her bill and a generous tip. However, she didn’t have his strength, because as she approached Cookie at the bar, she couldn’t resist the urge to cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder.

He’d stopped at the side entrance, talking to the small group of people who’d just entered, including the redhead from the GBI lab earlier. She touched Tick’s arm, drawing his attention to the curvy brunette with her. He smiled at both women, his stance taut with tension.

Caitlin turned away, her throat tight and hurting, and met Cookie’s knowing gaze. When she was able to speak, her voice came out a painful rasp. “Not one word, Cook. Not one.”

His sharp gray eyes held something a lot like sympathy. “I wasn’t going to say a damn thing, Falconetti. You ready to get out of here?”

“Sure. Let’s go take a look at Devil’s Hole, where the first body was found.”

“Don’t you want to wait until morning? That’s the middle of nowhere and it’s going to be hard to see anything in the dark, even with a spotlight.”

“Then drop me back at the sheriff’s office. I can work on the victimologies.”

He pushed the door open, humid air rolling over them as they walked into the parking lot. Distant sheet lightning brightened the purple sky in a burst of flashes. “Geez, Falconetti, you were in the office at four this morning, and it’s after eleven now. Don’t you ever sleep?”

“I don’t need—”

“Of course you don’t sleep. Not unless you’re exhausted.” He answered his own question. “And you have nightmares when you do, right? I doubt you have the flares of anger. You’re too controlled for that. But I bet you’re hiding some major mood swings.”

Horrified by his insight, she stared at him. She shook her head, a slow, disjointed movement. “You—”

“I get it, now.” Comprehension spread over his face, and he snapped his fingers. “Calvert’s too close, and you’re pushing him away while you tell yourself you’re protecting him. But you’re the one who needs protection, aren’t you? You don’t want to hurt him, but you’re more afraid of being hurt yourself.”

She stepped back, still shaking her head. Those keen gray eyes saw too much. “You’ve been watching too many talk shows, Cook.”

“No, I lived it. Let me tell you something, Falconetti. Alone is an awful place to be.”

Hell, she knew that. She didn’t need him to tell her anything. Icy anger curled through her. “Thanks for sharing, but I really would like to get back to work. Can we go now?”

“Sure thing.” The lascivious mask fell into place again. “You know, if you wanted to indulge in a meaningless, purely sexual fling, I’m available.”

“I thought I warned you about hitting on me.”

“You did. Sorry, I’m just not scared of you. Right now, I’m more afraid of Calvert shooting me.”

She wanted to laugh, wanted to pretend she didn’t care. She settled for a nonchalant shrug. Tick would find someone else. That’s what she wanted him to do, wasn’t it? “I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore.”

“Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Know why his father called him Tick?”

She waited for him to unlock the door. “Because when he was little, he was as stubborn as a tick on a hound dog—once he got a grip, he wouldn’t let go.”

“Think about that.” Cookie swung the door open, his arm resting along the top. “Right now, he wants you. You might have just kicked him in the teeth, but he’s not going to give up as easily as you want him to.”

She shuddered at the thought. She really couldn’t take much more of this.

Well, she’d simply have to find a way to tell him the truth. Then they’d see how long he wanted her.

Hours later, Caitlin kicked the sheets away with a frustrated sigh. Even with the air conditioner running, she was hot, her skin flushed and damp. She left the bed and went to stand in front of the unit. Scooping her hair up from her neck, she let the cool air wash over her.

The glowing red numerals of the clock mocked her inability to fall asleep. Tick’s hurt expression and Cookie’s direct questions jumbled together in her mind. Why did she keep pushing him away? Who did she really want to protect? Him? Or herself? What really frightened her?

That one was easy. Her susceptibility to him terrified her. Tick Calvert didn’t even have to touch her—one easy grin, the sound of his deep drawl—and her defenses were breached. When he did touch her, she forgot everything but him, and that was dangerous.

The way he’d looked at her today had gone beyond sexual. There’d been something else in that expression, a tenderness and affection deeper than friendship. In that hospital room, he looked like a man in love, and she couldn’t allow that to happen.

Who was she kidding? Last year, before he’d left for that undercover job in Mississippi, he’d done everything but say the words. So had she. The proof of those feelings had lain in how eagerly, at first, she’d waited for him to come home, how eagerly he’d sought her out once he did.

But he was right. By the time he walked back into her life, everything had changed.

She
had changed.

He wanted children. That fact was indisputable. Even ten years ago, at Quantico, when they’d talked about what their futures held, fatherhood colored his goals. So if she held him off, she protected him from the loss.

Yeah, right. Face facts, Falconetti. You know if he finds out about the truth and walks, and you know he will, it’ll destroy you. You’re protecting yourself.

She pushed away from the air conditioner, frustration burning along her nerves. Damn him anyway for being everything she wanted. Damn him for making her feel again.

She had to get out.

If she stayed in this room one more minute, the questions and what-ifs swirling in her mind would drive her crazy. The front desk clerk had assured her earlier that the fitness center was available at all hours for guests. A little exhaustion should push him straight out of her mind.

Because of the late hour, the fitness center was quiet and deserted. Out of habit, she clipped her holster to her shorts and chose a treadmill that faced the door. She set it for a brisk run. Determined to forget all about Tick Calvert, she let her mind wander through the information in Amy’s diary. In one of the last entries, with the sexual relationship with her mystery man deepening, Amy had poured out her impressions of him.

He’s not what he appears to be
.

The words rang in her mind. “He’s not what he appears to be,” she whispered, her gaze riveted on the open door, her senses hyperaware. “Who
is
he, Amy?”