“Yes, please,” he replied, and Misty waited while the woman took his glass, then brought him a fresh drink.
The more she thought about what he’d done, the more irritated she became. Why couldn’t he have just spoken to her about it? Told her his suspicions, said that he might know where her brother was? Why had he been so underhanded?
“Isn’t that illegal?” she asked instead.
“No. Well, stealing your glass is theft, but not testing your DNA. Once you discard something with your DNA on it, it’s fair game in most states,” he said.
“So, should I press charges for theft?” She was only half kidding.
“I supplied them for you,” he reminded her, and that just pissed her off more.
“So you set me all up, and that means you get to do what you want?”
“I know I should have told you what I was doing, but try to understand. I was doing what I thought best to protect you. I didn’t want your hopes to be raised if it turned out that he wasn’t your brother.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Great. That’s what I need, Bryson. I need you to keep babying me. You told me you were falling in love with me, but how can you love me if I am this weak little girl who needs you to hold my hand at every moment of every day? This visit has finally given me some confidence, made me see that there’s so much I can do. What you did has knocked me back down a step, saying you’re the big, tough guy — the heroic FBI agent — who will just take care of everything for me. How is that caring about me? How is that protecting me?” she whispered furiously, not wanting the other passengers to overhear them but starting not to care.
“I’m not trying to hold you back. If I could attach the wings to your back to help you fly, I would. I just wanted to take care of you, and I still do. Is that so wrong?” he demanded, his own temper flaring.
“Yeah, Jesse just wanted to control me, too. That’s really what this is about, isn’t it? You are the man and I’m the meek little woman, so I need to just bow down and be grateful when you do something for me that you’ve decided is in my best interests?”
“I’m done with this conversation, Misty. It all turned out well. I can’t believe you would even compare me to that man. He is a worthless piece of trash,” he said, fury flashing in his eyes.
“Well, I’m done, too. I need to think about this, Bryson.” Misty didn’t like it at all that he was now telling her when a conversation was going to end.
As the plane started its final descent into San Francisco, Misty wanted to break the awkward silence between the two of them, but she couldn’t seem to find the right words. She knew she was being unfair. Yes, the way he’d obtained her DNA was wrong. Yes, he should have trusted her more with the truth, but hadn’t she been a frightened woman when he’d found her? Hadn’t she trembled in his arms?
She knew he’d done what he had with good intentions, even if he had gone about it all wrong. She just didn’t know how to call a truce.
They had time.
Then the plane ride was over and done with before she could come to any conclusions, and they were silently walking side by side as they left the terminal. Just when she was working up the courage to apologize, or at least to try to work this fight out, his phone rang.
When he snarled into the device, they both stopped, and she turned his way anxiously.
“Why in the hell not?” he thundered. His voice was normally more controlled, but between their fight and whatever was happening on the other end of the line, his mood appeared to be growing worse by the second.
There was a long pause as the person on the other end of the call made some little speech or other, but whatever he or she was saying wasn’t making Bryson happy. Misty waited quietly for him to continue speaking.
“Fine. I will be there, but heads are going to roll…” Another pause. “I said, I will be there. Send a unit to check Misty’s house.” Yet another pause. “No, not the damn marshals; they’ll be around later anyway. I want our guys.”
Misty waited while he stopped and looked up at the sky in exasperation.
“Good. Jackson is on his way? Okay. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
Bryson hung up, his face now blank as he took a long breath. “I’m sorry, Misty, but I have another client — he’s just a kid, been really messed up. I can’t say anything about the case, but he ran off yesterday and they’re just now bothering to call me. Jackson, is going to make sure your house is secure. I should be back within a few hours.”
“Don’t apologize for doing your job, Bryson. I think that’s the thing I respect about you most — how committed you are to your work. We will talk later,” she said, shifting on her feet. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether their talk later was going to be good or bad. Maybe he was finished with the drama of being with a woman like her.
“I love my job, but right now isn’t the best time to leave,” he said, looking away from her as he focused on what he needed to do. She shrank inside just a little bit more. Was he thinking of the kid he needed to help, or was he pulling away from her?
Usually, a fight meant the relationship was over, at least in her world. It was either over or she was about to get the hell beat out of her. She knew Bryson would never hurt her physically, but she’d almost rather suffer through that than go through the heartache of losing him. But she was going to stay strong right now.
“You have to go. I’ll be fine,” she told him.
“I could drop you off first,” he said, but from the anxious look on his face, she gathered that the boy had run off in the opposite direction.
“I’ve managed to survive, even in some sticky situations, for a very long time. I assure you that I can get home.” She turned toward the line of cabs.
“Here’s cab fare,” he said, stepping up after her.
“I’ve got it, Bryson. I do have a job,” she reminded him, her back stiffening.
“I know, but you’re not making much,” he said, holding the money out to her.
“Believe it or not, it’s enough to survive.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?”
“Go right now, or I’m going to take back what I said about respecting you for being so dedicated to your job.”
After a final look her way, a look that she couldn’t interpret, he turned and jogged off, toward where his SUV was parked. Misty watched him vanish into a sea of people, and she scoffed at herself when she felt a surge of anxiety.
What they had was going to go one of two ways. It was either over — or it would truly begin. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, so she needed to focus on what she could do. Right now, that was to get home. She had to work that night, so she would get only a few hours’ sleep, if she could sleep at all. Then, hopefully tomorrow, she and Bryson would talk.
If the uneasiness in her chest would go away, she’d feel on top of the world after her visit with her brother, or at least as high as the Empire State Building. The fight with Bryson shouldn’t have affected her so much, not after the wonderful days she’d had in Seattle.
The line for a taxi moved quickly, and soon she was on her way home. The sun dipped in the sky as she pulled up to her house.
Home, sweet home — for now, at least. Misty paid the cab driver and stepped wearily from the car.
It had been a lovely trip, but she was tired straight through her bones. Having a panic attack and then meeting her family had been overwhelming. Add to that not sleeping much because of certain nighttime activities, and the math was clear: not enough sleep. To end the trip with a fight, and she was done for.
Stepping up to her door, she unlocked it and carried her bag in. “Nap time!” she said to the dark entryway as she dropped her bag and dragged herself down the hallway.
When she stumbled over something, it took her a moment to realize it was a body. What? Who?
It was too late by the time she knew she wasn’t alone, realized her skin was crawling, her heart was shouting to her to run. It was too late, because a hand holding a cloth came up and covered her mouth and nose, and then all she saw were dots before she lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bryson was drained and ready to drop. Finding Ricky had been a lot more difficult than he’d thought, and the kid had been about to make a huge mistake with the lighter and the torch that he had on him. Yes, the kid wanted to get the gang who’d killed his mother, but he was only going to end up joining her in the ground if he didn’t let the law handle it instead of waging a futile vendetta of his own.
She wouldn’t have wanted that for him. She’d loved her son and had taken him out of the embattled neighborhood they’d been living in so he wouldn’t grow up to be in a gang or to deal drugs. The people she’d left behind hadn’t been happy about her escape, and they’d found her. It was just one more nail in that gang’s coffin, since they were under surveillance for narcotics, murder, and various other major crimes.