Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [106]
I’d insisted Lucas not tell anyone we were coming, so the only person who met us at the airport was the driver. We were walking through the parking lot at Cortez headquarters, when someone snuck up behind me and tickled my ribs. I yelped and spun to see Adam, grinning. Just grinning, like nothing had happened between us. He looked tired—face drawn and clothes rumpled—but very happy. And very pleased with himself.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hey yourself. You look like shit.”
He laughed. “Thank you. Been up half the night, but I finally found what I’d been looking for.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see that Cassandra had continued on.
“What were you looking for?” I asked.
“Later. First, we need breakfast. I’m starving.”
“I ate on the plane.”
“Too bad. You’re eating again. Or watching me eat.”
We headed for the elevator.
“And you’ll tell me about this amazing discovery over breakfast?”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“I need to get stuff ready first.”
“Ready for what?”
“You’ll see.”
I looked at him, at his grin and his glowing face, and I felt . . . guilt. I’d hurt him and it shouldn’t be this easy to fix that.
I stopped walking. “About the other day—”
He clapped a hand over my mouth. “Uh-uh. I’m in a good mood. Let’s leave the angst for later, okay?”
I peeled his hand away. “I can’t. I treated you badly. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I feel like shit.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, and you telling me it is only makes it worse because I know you’re just saying that to avoid a fight.”
He sighed, and waved me back into a corner of the garage as two guys in suits passed.
“Okay, you want to hash this out? Speed-fight, then. Five minutes. If it goes into overtime, we postpone it. Okay?”
I nodded. “I want to say—”
“Uh-uh. First shot’s mine. It’s not that you took me for granted, Savannah, it’s that you treated me like your flunky—”
“I—”
“Still my turn. I’m not a leader. Never wanted to be one. I’m happy to let Lucas or Paige make the big decisions. But if I get my choice of partner, I pick you. Because on that level—out in the field, working a case—I want a partner, not a boss. Most times, if it’s you and me, it works. But sometimes there’s a problem. You’re strongwilled and I’m stubborn.”
“I—”
“Almost done. If you insist on taking the lead, I dig in my heels. Usually you see it and you give a little and I give a little, and we’re good. But if you’re stressed, then you’re pushing hard. And if I think you’re making a bad move, then I’m pushing back hard. Eventually something’s gotta give.”
“I know.”
“So I figure the blame is fifty-fifty. You were fighting for the lead, which is always a mistake with me. But you were stressed, so I shouldn’t have gotten as angry as I did. I was just as stressed though, so it kind of . . .” He shrugged. “Blew up. I just needed a couple of days off.”
“Away from me.”
He met my gaze. “Yeah. I know you don’t want to hear that but, yeah, I needed to step back, and I think you needed it, too. Take a break before we both really lost our tempers and said stuff we don’t mean.”
“Okay.”
“Your turn then.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need it. That works for me. Step back until we cool down. I just . . .”
“You thought I was stepping back for good?”
My cheeks heated. “Yes, I have abandonment issues, as you’ve pointed out.”
When I tried to look away, he caught my hand and pulled me back to face him. “I’m not going anywhere, Savannah. Not now. Not ever.”
He moved closer as he spoke and for a second I thought, He’s going to kiss me. Oh, God, he’s going to kiss me. But he only looked into my eyes and said, “You’re stuck with me, okay?” and I nodded, my throat closing. I tore my gaze away before he saw the flash of disappointment.
He hesitated a moment, and I was about to look at him again, but then he stepped back.
“Breakfast?” he said.
I nodded and followed him out of the garage.
We shared breakfast. No, I didn’t say, “Oh, I’m not hungry,” then eat off his plate. Not my style. We got a big breakfast and shared.