“And how did Dawg react to Zoey?” he asked her, his tone husky with amusement.
“Zoey swears he looked like he was going to cry. She says his hands were shaking. But as soon as she mentioned Momma was sick again, Timothy rushed outside to the truck where we were waiting. After that, it was like Dawg had always been there watching over us.”
She glanced up at Brogan, seeing the understanding in his eyes. “He made sure Momma got the tests and medication she needed. He moved us in with him and Christa while Momma was in the hospital. When he learned Momma had always wanted her own bed-and-breakfast inn, he had one waiting for her when she came out of the hospital. He’d completely remodeled it and had everything perfect for her. He told her he didn’t have just four sisters; he had five. And he had to take care of her, too.”
Rounding a bend in the path, Eve came to a surprised stop, delight racing through her at the sight of the small trickling stream flowing past a nearly hidden grotto.
Beneath the canopy of wisteria and honeysuckle was a wide padded bench almost half the size of a bed.
“Can we go in?” she asked, the urge to stretch out on the padded bench nearly overwhelming.
“Of course.” Catching her hand, he held it with his own as he led her beneath the wide opening.
Releasing her to explore, Brogan leaned against the heavy support post as she sat on the padded stone bench before stretching out on it and staring up at the fragrant, colorful clusters of flowers hanging above her from amid the leafy green.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said wistfully, wishing she could hold back time just a little longer. That she could still the questions raging inside her.
Turning her head, she stared back at him. His gaze met and locked with hers, regret flickering in the blue-gray depths. Did he wish time could be held back as well? That they could have just a few more hours before reality had to be dealt with?
Sitting up slowly and tucking her legs to the side, she took a deep breath.
“Are you going to lie to me?” she asked, somehow knowing she would sense it if he did.
“I won’t lie to you,” he promised. “I may not be able to answer some questions, but I won’t lie.”
Eve looked away. She gazed down at her lap and watched her fingers for long moments as they twisted together. When she lifted her gaze to his once again, it was to see the regret he made no effort to hide now.
“Why did you wait so long?” she finally asked. “And why now?” She had flirted with him since she had first met him the day he arrived in Somerset two and a half years before.
“I waited because I didn’t believe it was fair to drag you into my world,” he explained, his voice heavy as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why now? Because I couldn’t stand it any longer, Eve. I’ve wanted you since that first day, and waiting simply wasn’t any option any longer.”
His answer only made her next question harder. Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she watched his eyes as she asked, “How do you know Chatham Doogan, and why did you show up at the restaurant last night?”
“Fuck, we couldn’t start with the easy questions first, could we?” He grimaced before his eyes narrowed on her. “I’m going to be honest with you, Eve, but I’m telling you now: No one—not your brother, your sisters, or your mother—can know about this. It goes no further, no matter what.”
“It won’t go any further,” she promised. She knew his answers weren’t going to be easy to hear, though.
“Chatham Bromleah Doogan the third.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “He’s my boss, sort of. He’s the operations director for the regional office of the Federal Protective Service. It’s a division of Homeland Security that deals with the protection and security of federal buildings, employees, assets, and possessions. And if you tell anyone what I’m telling you today, then Doogan is going to jump on it like a dog on a bone and drag your brother and cousins into something I don’t think they want to be a part of.”
Eve stared back at him, expecting him to declare, “April Fools’,” despite the fact that it was already June. If not that, then, “psych,” or, “joke,” or some declaration to indicate that he certainly wasn’t serious. But the longer she stared at him, the more she knew it wasn’t coming. The more sense it made.
“You’re not a traitor then?” she finally asked. “You haven’t been stealing government files left and right or attempting to weaken the pillars of society?”
A bitter smile pulled at his lips. “I don’t know about the pillars of society, but sorry, baby, the thieving is pretty much true. For the past two and a half years I’ve been a thieving son of a bitch.”
Her hands were shaking. As Eve stared at her hands in her lap she realized they were trembling like leaves in a storm.
“Why?” she asked, keeping her gaze on her hands, wondering whether she could will them to be still.
“It’s part of the investigation FPS is conducting to catch the thieves actually stealing government files from independent analysts who were contracted to study them,” he explained.
Okay, so he was pretending to be a thieving son of a bitch, she thought as her gaze lifted to him again. That was the easy part. There was much more than this going on; Chatham’s presence at the boat dock proved that.
“Before you ask this next question be damned sure you want the answer,” he warned her as her lips parted.
“How do you know what I’m going to ask?” Her voice was faint, cautious.
She could feel things she didn’t understand. Feelings and suspicions she wasn’t certain were hers.