JACE-1(Lane Brothers, Book 3)(28)

“Jace, don’t take this the wrong way, but part of what I loved about you, then and now, is that you’re so dedicated to your job and that it means a lot to you to defend and protect. So yeah, I would have been happy, because I knew that I would lose you for a while but you would always come back.”

That makes me feel like an ass, and I say so, watching her giggle with mirth and not a little amount of enjoyment at my expense.

“You were an ass, you know. You loved me and left me and then forced me to watch you screw other women,” she growls, slapping at my good shoulder with a huff.

“Hey, I never slept with any of those women. They were—”

“A means to an end. I know. I figured that out after Paulie started telling me about how you turned into a monk after I left. That’s good since I hate to think that I’ve kept myself all pure for you while you slept with everything around.”

I wince and it doesn’t escape her notice.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“No! I just. I got drunk one night after a really bad mission, and I…succumbed,” I admit.

Telling her that I was so hammered I still can’t remember a moment of any of it after a certain point probably won’t make a difference here, so I keep that to myself and smile instead.

“It wasn’t you, though, and I learned really quickly that it wasn’t something I wanted anymore. Chasing tail was great when I was young and not in love, but after you, after loving you and making the biggest mistake of my life, it was nothing. Forgive me?”

Her yes and the fact that she almost attacks me with teary kisses is all I was looking for and I fall asleep for a nap with a mile and a prayer that everything turns out okay so that I can hold on to the happiness I feel right now.





Chapter Nine


Trace

This happiness I feel is one of those doomed feelings you get when you buy a lottery ticket and get all giddy, all the while knowing that you probably haven’t even got one matching number.

I’m blissed out after a day spent sleeping, talking, and just enjoying the togetherness that being with Jace brings.

It will end, though, and not because I want it to but because I’m almost positive that when I tell Jace that my father still has me locked in that contract with Timothy, he’s going to be really mad at me.

The contract in question was something I signed voluntarily, thinking that I’d get closer to my father and maybe even Timothy, and that it would give me that chance to get the information I need.

Turns out I was wrong, and I now find myself locked down tight. I wasn’t too worried about breaking it when I was alone, but I do not want the Lanes losing money paying out a clause in that contract if I marry Jace, which I really want to do.

Now I’m stuck and desperate to tell him so that we can avoid those lies we promised never to tell each other. And yet I find myself stalling later that night as I get ready for bed.

Talk at dinner had been about Roman and the best way to get him home safely while still getting the goods on the Patriots.

No way was I going to even mention my little dilemma when a man’s life is hanging in the balance and my petty problems aren’t even half as bad. So maybe I’ll just fly back to DC sometime soon and beg Daddy to let me out of that contract.

Yeah, and maybe pigs will sprout wings and fly, and those little fairies I used to read about will just magically appear right before my eyes.

“Trace, you coming to bed?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” I yell from the bathroom, feeling like a total fraud and hating myself for the mistakes I’ve made out of pure apathy towards life.

Look at the way I joined the FBI after only a token amount of resistance. The truth is that I just didn’t care in the beginning and thought I’d either flunk out because I suck or they’d lose interest when it turns out Daddy wasn’t a crooked politician.

Then when the contract came around I was too tired and mired in my own misery to give much of a damn anyway. Now, years later, I feel like an ass and a liar because I should have mentioned this a long time ago, and by that, I mean this afternoon when talk turned to marriage and I remembered that damned piece of paper with my John Hancock on it.

Now I have to tell him. I just don’t want to be adding to his troubles with my petty bullcrap.

After slathering myself with enough moisturizer to slip through cell bars, I finally creep out of the bathroom, expecting Jace to have fallen asleep.

Instead he’s sitting up, waiting for me with narrowed eyes and tight lips.

“Talk.”

That’s all he says and yet I know exactly what he means. I should have realized that he knows me well and that all my signs are familiar to him. Obviously my discomfort isn’t foreign to him like I thought it may be with all the time that’s passed.