“You want to take this one?” Sean looked at his new “pal” in the rearview mirror. “I need to make sure we’re not being followed and try to decide where we can go from here.”
“With pleasure.”
“Good. I have a feeling our time is short. Did you already pack up everything in your room and put your belongings in the car?”
“I did.”
“That makes two of us. Carry on.”
Thorpe nodded at him, then turned to her with a Dom glower so menacing she found herself inching back until the car door ensured that she had nowhere else to go.
Callie gulped. “What? I-I took care of myself. I couldn’t very well expect the two of you to—”
“Be reasonably concerned human beings who wanted to keep you happy and safe? Talk to the two men who will always put your welfare above everything else?”
Damn it, he was determined to make her feel somewhere between stupid and irresponsible. “Sean was a liar. How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t turn me in?”
“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, lovely. But I had to create a cover to get into the club and keep everyone from getting suspicious, especially you.”
And didn’t she feel like an idiot for falling for it—and him? “Great job, Mr. Kirkpatrick. You had me fooled.”
“Mackenzie,” he corrected. “Sean Mackenzie is my real name. Here.” He passed her a little leather case. She flipped it over as he turned on the interior light.
Callie clutched the document in her hand and read it with a sense of something between OMG and holy shit. It was true. Sean Mackenzie truly was a Special Agent for the FBI. She passed his credentials back with numb fingers. He grabbed it and killed the interior light.
Then darkness settled around her, leaving her to battle her thoughts again. Holy shit finally beat out OMG as her final reaction. And anger that she’d been duped. Apparently he’d done it without much difficulty and probably even less regret.
“I guess that’s why you were able to give Axel a black eye.” What else was there to say?
“I taught hand-to-hand combat for the bureau for two years.”
Which meant that he was damn good at it. And here she’d thought he didn’t have a violent bone in his body. Callie snorted. That proved she had almost no clue about him. In fact, there were probably a thousand other facts about Sean Kirkpatrick—or Mackenzie, rather—that she didn’t know. “Who are you? Obviously, I don’t know.”
“You do.” His voice was so soft, compelling her to believe him. “Everything except my name and occupation was the real me. I never lied about how I felt.”
She wanted to believe him. But the truth was, she’d fallen for a charming smile, a fake brogue, and a whole lot of smooth lines. If his tenderness and caring had seemed like more, well . . . wasn’t that the point of winning her trust and breaking her barriers down? “Whatever.”
“It’s a lot more than ‘whatever,’ Callie. I swear to you.”
“Even if finding out that Sean wasn’t who he claimed, that doesn’t excuse you for running off without talking to me, pet,” Thorpe jumped in. “What’s your justification there?”
“I didn’t think you knew who I was, so I tried to keep you from this mess. Was I supposed to guess that you cared about me?”
She hadn’t thought it possible, but his face became even more forbidding. “Don’t you ever say that to me again. I sheltered you for four years, Callie. I tried to teach you, help you, comfort you. What part of that indicated to you that I didn’t give a shit?”
“I knew you cared as a friend, but I didn’t think you—” She tried to untangle her thoughts as he leaned across the seat toward her. “The night you . . . that it seemed like we were going to . . . you know.” She still hated thinking about that humiliating event. “Then you just walked away and never explained, never touched me again, so—”
“Because I didn’t fuck you, you imagined that I didn’t care anymore?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” She shrugged. “I might have believed that a lover would go out on a limb for me, but not merely a boss or a friend.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement.” Thorpe cursed, shaking his head.
“Being your lover clearly didn’t give me any extra perks in the trust department,” Sean piped up from the front seat. “In fact, I think you gave me even less than Thorpe.”
“Well, yeah,” Callie defended hotly. “Everything between us was pretense and bullshit. Don’t try to convince me that I’ve wronged you.”
“He’s not telling his superiors that you’ve run or that his cover is blown because he’s trying to minimize the chances that the FBI will suddenly want you brought in.”
Maybe that was true. Even if it was, she wasn’t ready to be less angry. No, hurt. Damn it. “So I’m supposed to thank you for your kind lies? Was it difficult to get hard on command? Was fucking me a chore?”
Sean slapped his palm against the steering wheel. “That’s it. I’ve had enough. Thorpe . . .”
“On it,” he assured the other man. “We’re done with your lack of trust.”
“And your bratty mouth,” Sean added. “Don’t forget that.”
“Absolutely,” Thorpe agreed. “You will apologize this instant to both of us.”
“Like hell! You two don’t like the way I communicate. Guess what? Your style sucks, too. You lie.” She pointed at Sean, then turned her stare on Thorpe. “And you clam up.”
Thorpe grabbed her by the arm. “You’ve refused to rely on the men determined to help you.”
“I didn’t ask for help,” she pointed out.
“You’ve refused to apologize, and you’ve insulted us.”
“You insulted me, too. Because I’m going to defend myself, I’m bratty?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not the only one slinging words around here.”
“I might have lied, lovely, but I didn’t drug you,” Sean reminded darkly.
“Neither of us stripped for a room full of scum. And it was your third shift in two days?” Thorpe raised an intimidating brow at her.
A gong of foreboding resounded in her gut. Shit, they’d done their legwork. Sometimes, she lost her temper and forgot important details . . . like being at the mercy of two pissed off Doms. Of course, Thorpe probably wouldn’t punish her. In fact, he’d probably never touch her again. But he’d sure give Sean lots of craptastic ideas about how to do it effectively.
“I wasn’t enjoying myself. I was making money.”