Tempted

Chapter 33

Taylor

After a leisurely shower, I finally face my cell phone. I plug it in and power it on. I have numerous missed calls and texts from Logan, Reis, Colt and MJ. I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet, but I don’t want anyone to worry. I send a text to MJ telling her I’m fine and I’m at home, then I turn the phone off again.

When my parents get home with takeout containers of Italian, I dress in fresh pajamas and make my way downstairs.

I set the table while my mom makes a pitcher of iced tea.

After dishing up a plate with pasta and a golden breaded chicken breast, my mom passes it to me with a wistful look. “We need to talk about this, Taylor. You need to be back in school.”

“I know. I want to transfer back here.”

“You can’t transfer back in the middle of the year,” my dad supplies around a bite of pasta.

“I can’t go back there. Mom…” I plead.

“Taylor, your dad and I talked and we think the right thing to do is to go back to the academy. It’s a good opportunity for you and we don’t want you to throw it away. You’re stronger than that.”

As excited as I was for my favorite meal tonight, I push away the plate, my appetite vanished. How could they do this to me? I cannot go back and face Colt every day. They don’t understand anything.

After that disappointing dinner, I decide to turn my cell phone back on. I can’t avoid my life forever. There’s several more missed calls and a text from Colt that says I’m sorry. Another from MJ says Are u ok? Call me!

Crap. I hate it when my parents are right. After four days at home, one thing is crystal clear. I don’t belong here anymore.

The moment I called Piper to tell her I was back in town, her endless questions pumped me for information. And her sympathy-laced voice made promises to set me up with useless high school boys I had no interest in whatsoever. My conversations with her, and then with MJ had me wondering if coming here was a mistake after all.

MJ confirms that Colt’s left on another field assignment and urges me to come back. And as busy as Colt is, I doubted I’d see much of him unless I made a deliberate effort, which I obviously wouldn’t be doing.

Even if I have to dodge Colt, I’d rather be back at the academy with friends who know what I’m going through and who won’t rehash every gritty detail, making me relive the pain all over again.

The call from Reis disrupts my reverie. “Hello?”

His breathing is frantic. “Something’s happened to Colt.”

That was all I needed to hear. I immediately pack my bags and jot a note for my parents, letting them know that I’m heading back to the school. It’s not far from the truth. I was going to Connecticut, but I was headed to Reis’ house to figure out what was going on.

Reis and I talk on the phone while I drive. Colt had left to work a case by himself two days ago. He’d insisted that he didn’t need back up, only telling Reis that he’d be in New Jersey overnight. He was due back yesterday, no one has heard from him and his cell phone has been turned off. It’s a nerve racking five hour drive to their house, and all the while I ponder various scenarios – all horrible, all involving Colt. There’s a million ways a field assignment could go wrong, and my mind works through all of them and then some.

When I finally pull into their driveway, I slam the truck into park and jog to the door. It swings open after several minutes of knocking and I expect to see Reis, or maybe Mrs. Lee, so it takes me a second to figure out that it’s McAllister standing in front of me.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, stunned.

“I live here,” he says, slowly.

“Oh. Of course, I mean, I thought you were in Brazil.”

“My initial plan was to come home to see Reis’ last soccer game. But when I got here – Reis’ got stitches in his face and Colt’s disappeared.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking wistful. “Seems I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.”

I nod in agreement. His hair is laced with more silver than I remember and his eyes look lined and tired.

“The better question is, what are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is direct, but not unkind, just curious at how I fit into this mess with his sons.

“I’m here to fix things.”

He smiles lightly. “Me too. Come inside.”

I follow him in through the foyer and into the kitchen. Reis is chatting with Mrs. Lee. He springs off the barstool when he sees me and lifts me from the floor in a hug.

McAllister and Mrs. Lee watch us. I can’t help but notice the way she narrows her eyes at me. Reis sets me on my feet a few moments later and pats the top of my head. “Shrimp,” he whispers, adoringly.

Reis stands by my side, keeping his arms around me, like now that I’m back, he’s afraid to let me go. It’s a little unnerving. Mrs. Lee clears her throat. “I bring in the groceries,” she says, leaving the three of us in the kitchen.

“Can you find him?” McAllister asks, his expression somber. Even though he’s a dirt bag, I can tell he loves his son. It softens me toward him the slightest bit.

“I’ll track him down.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

Reis holds my hand, petting his thumb across the back of my hand repeatedly.

McAllister watches us with a curious expression. “Reis, can I talk to you a minute?” he asks.

Reis gives my hand a squeeze and then follows his dad from the room.

I walk to the hutch at the other end of the kitchen and pick up the photo of Colt and Reis. He’s so insanely handsome. Where are you Colt?

I hear rustling behind me and turn to see Mrs. Lee wresting a bag of groceries bigger than her up onto the island. She watches me with a guarded expression.

She gestures to the photo in my hands. “You pick.”

I look down and return the picture to the shelf with trembling hands.

“You no toy with them.” She wags her finger at me.

I nod, stunned at her harshness.

When Reis and McAllister come back into the kitchen, Reis heads to me, but Mrs. Lee incepts him, fussing over his freshly removed stiches, lifting his chin to inspect the line of tender skin. She loudly kisses his cheek and pats his chest, giving me the evil eye as she examines him. Her warmth toward me from the homecoming dance as evaporated.

Reis pulls me upstairs, carrying my laptop in front of him likes it’s a prized possession. I set to work at his computer desk while he paces the room.

“Reis, sit. This isn’t like in the movies. It’s going to take a while.”

He nods and collapses on the bed with a deep sigh.

An hour later, after reading through the case file on Colt’s computer and tracking the emails between him and Geoffrey, I think I’m onto something. We knew that Colt was headed to New Jersey, but now I have an address. His assignment was to gather intelligence on two suspected terrorists, and they’d recently leased on old warehouse, which based on a simple search I discover is vacant and on an isolated country road. Needless to say, it’s very out of the way. Who knows what could be going on there. Certainly nothing good.

McAllister pokes his head inside the doorway. “Find anything?”

“I think I know where he is.”

Reis leaps from the bed and McAllister crosses the room in two strides. They hover over my shoulders, looking at the satellite image of the warehouse.

“I’ll go get him.” McAllister programs the address into his phone.

“No.” I stand. “I need to be the one to get him.”

His face is pure confusion and disbelief. “It’s not safe.”

“I know.” He’s right. It will be dangerous, but something tells me I need to be the one to do this. No matter how much I want to prove to Colt that I’m worth his love, I’m not that dumb. There’s just something nagging inside me that tell me I need to be the one. “I could run into a dead end with this warehouse and I’ll have my laptop. It has to be me. Trust me?”

He nods. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I suppose it’s the least I could do. I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I love my sons – fiercely.” He drapes an arm over Reis’ shoulders.

“I know. I’ll bring him home.”

When McAllister sees I’ve driven the truck here, he insists I take his Jaguar. It’s more reliable than the old truck, and will certainly be faster.

I pull to a stop outside the warehouse and leave the car running. I’ll knock on the door and if someone’s here, I’ll play stupid and say I’m lost and ask for directions. And if no one answers, I plan to sneak in and search for Colt.

I take a few deep breaths and double check the utility knife McAllister shoved in my purse before I left.

I can do this. I repeat the silent mantra in my head. It’s go time.

The steel door in the front is pad locked with thick chains. Crap. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. My stomach tingles with nerves and my hands are shaking. This feels like a terrible idea. But if someone answers, I remind myself, I’ll fake my best dumb teenage girl who took a wrong turn in Daddy’s car and needs help back to the highway. Of course I’m praying that no one answers and I can get inside and rescue Colt. This will work. It has to.

After knocking for several minutes, no one answers, and I don’t hear any noises from inside. I’m wasting time. If Colt’s not here, I need to move onto plan B. I walk around the side of the building, and drag an upturned crate over to the window, standing on top of it to look inside. The window is too dirty, inside and out to see through. I push against it and miraculously it slides open.

I hoist myself up and through he open window and as I drop to the floor, my only thought before I hit the concrete is, man this is dumb.

I ignore a sharp pain that shoots up my spine and inspect my surroundings. The building is dim and completely silent. The large room I’m in is empty, except for various mechanical equipment scattered haphazardly. I scramble to my feet and shuffle across the room to an open doorway. I hug the wall and peer through. The room is small and damp and in a darkened corner sits a lone folding chair, a guy slumped over and tied to it. Colt! My heart pounds erratically. He’s here. I bite my lip and listen for any sounds of movement. The warehouse is eerily silent.

I race toward him, falling at his knees. “Colt,” my voice is little more than a frantic gasp, but it startles him awake. Thank God. He doesn’t appear hurt. His eyes soften when they find mine.

“Taylor. You have to get out of here,” he rasps.

“I’m not leaving you here. Come on.” I pull the blade from my purse and work at sawing through the ropes holding his hands behind his back.

When the rope springs free, his hands drop to his sides and he groans in relief.

“How are you here?” He looks captivated by me, like I’m a mirage, or an angel.

“I hacked into your email and figured out where you were.”

He rises on stiff legs and leans on me for support. We half limp, half jog for the door. He lifts me to the window and I scramble out, anxious until he hoists himself out and drops to the ground.

We climb inside the car and I throw it in reserve and slam on the gas, pining us both against the seats and kicking up gravel in my wake. I hand my phone to Colt and he calls Reis to tell him we’re safe and on our way.

Neither of us speak until we’re about fifteen minutes down the highway.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispers, turning toward me. His words stab at my heart. He doesn’t want me here. But then he brings his hand to my jaw line and brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “If something would have happened to you…” he doesn’t finish, but the agony in his voice does wonders to mend the ache in my chest.

Tears blur my vision and double my efforts to focus on the highway, while Colt continues to wrap his fingers around the curls of my hair. He scoots closer and wipes at a tear rolling down my cheek. “Pull over,” he whispers.

I jerk the car to the right, pulling off the highway at an exit for a rest stop. As soon as I wrench it into park, I clamor across the seat and I’m on top of him. I straddle his lap and sob into his chest. “Shh. Shh. I’m okay.” He rubs my back in gentle circles.

“I was so scared.”

“I know. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, still rubbing my back, sweeping my hair off my neck.

I cry harder, for everything I’ve lost, but mostly because I’ve lost him. The physical ache to be near him has haunted me for weeks, and now that he’s so close I let myself fall apart in his arms.

A few minutes later I pull myself together and slide from his lap. He doesn’t try and get me to stay, he doesn’t hold my hand, he just lets me go. He turns to me and smiles and a small grin. It’s sort of a sad excuse for a smile, but still it’s something and my heart stirs. “Let me drive,” he says.

Oh. Not what I was expecting, but I nod obediently. I’m in no shape to drive right now.

We switch seats and Colt pulls back onto the highway, heading north.

The minutes tick by in silence. We don’t even play the radio. I alternate between watching the passing scenery, and watching Colt drive. He rests one hand on the wheel and the other on the console between us. His wrists are red and bruised from where the rope cut into him. I want to reach over and touch the marks on his skin, but I don’t. There’s some barrier that’s been drawn between us. He comforted me when I lost it, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven me for cheating.

A few minutes later the sound of his voice startles me from my private thoughts. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

I nod. He pulls off the highway and stops at a drive-thru. He orders our food and we eat in silence in the parking lot. Things haven’t felt this tense between us since when we first met and I couldn’t stand him. Maybe it’s because the roles are reserved, and now he can’t stand to be around me, knowing how I betrayed him with Reis. I eat a few bites, then stuff the food back into the bag.

“Why are you driving my dad’s car?”

“He wanted to come for you himself, but I convinced him to let me instead. He agreed, but told me to drive this since it’s faster.”

He nods, please with my answer.

When Colt’s done eating, he wipes his hands on a napkin and turns to me. “We should probably put a little more distance between us and them, and then stop for the night. I’m beat.”

I do little more than nod, unsure if the mere sound of his voice will set me off crying again.

Once we’re inside the hotel room, Colt sits on the edge of the bed and places his head in his hands. I stand uselessly in the center of the room, unsure what to do. I’ve never seen him so distressed. When I sling my backpack into the chair across the room, he looks up, startled. His posture is stiff, and his eyes dart to mine. An unknown force wills me closer, and before I even realized I’d moved, I’m standing directly in front of him. He place his hands on the backs of my legs, tugging me a little closer. I step in toward him and his hands slid up to grip the backs of my knees, which is good because my legs are feeling shaky all of a sudden.

Standing this close I see the dark rings under his eyes. I press a fingertip to the purplish skin. “You look like shit.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Sorry. You scared me half to death.”

“I’m okay now.”

We stand like that for a few seconds and my heartbeat builds. I want him to pull me down to him, to kiss me, to tell me everything’s going to be okay now, but he does none of those things.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. He drops his hands from my legs.

I stumble back a step at the absence of his warm hands before righting myself and steeling my nerves. “Do you need anything? I could go to the store.” When we pulled into the hotel there was one of those big box stores right across the street.

He pulls off his T-shirt and brings it to his nose, inhaling it. “Some clean clothes would be great.” He grins.

I smile. “You got it.”

When I come back from the store with three big bags, Colt’s lying on the bed with just a white towel wrapped around his hips. He sits up when I come in.

I dump the bags onto the bed, trying not to look at his bare chest, which still has the power to funny things to my stomach.

He rummages through the items as they land on the bed. A tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, bottled water, socks, a package of boxer briefs, a couple of T-shirts and a pair of jeans. I had to guess on all the sizes, but I’d liked shopping for him. Like in some small way I was taking care of him, putting this right again.

“The third bag has food so we won’t have to go out again later.”

He nods, and takes the clothes and toothbrush into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he reemerges, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. He’s clean, but he still doesn’t look well. His skin is dull and I can still see the shadows beneath his eyes.