She’d been floored, utterly caught off guard that he’d been even thinking about a long-term future. Holland had barely considered where they would go for their next date night.

  “You’re not ready to get married,” he allowed. “I talked to Dr. Jansen about my feelings and I really worked some things out. It took a while. I’ve been in session every day since you turned me down. It’s cost me a lot, but it’s brought me here. Holland, I forgive you.”

  “That’s awesome.” The dude spent entirely too much time with his overpriced therapist. How did Chad even afford him? “But I think we should end things here, on a positive note. Forgiveness is good. It’s time for both of us to move on. Thanks for stopping by.”

  Any minute, Dax would step out and this would blow up in her face if she couldn’t convince Chad to go.

  Despite the fact that she’d opened the door, Chad didn’t move an inch. “According to Dr. Jansen, your fear of intimacy and your inability to commit stem from your childhood experiences. I understand that now. Let’s start over. I’ve made an appointment with Dr. Jansen for you this afternoon. Even your uncle agrees that you should see someone.”

  She felt her jaw drop and slammed the door. “You talked to my uncle about this?”

  He watched her with a sickening sympathy on his face. “Your uncle understands that I’m good for you. Your refusal last week was part of a need to play out your own mother’s unhappiness. It was an irrational decision and one you should explore in therapy. I think once you acknowledge that you’re allowing your past to hamstring you, we can get back on track.”

  “Let me tell you something, buddy. If I wanted to play out my mother’s unhappiness, I would find the nearest superhot, emotionally unavailable Naval officer and go to town.” Yes, now she was remembering all the reasons she and Chad weren’t compatible. He could be a sanctimonious douche nozzle.

  “I understand your reluctance.” He frowned as he paced deeper into her apartment and glanced at the bar. “Really? Wine and hard liquor? Have you been doing this all week? And pizza? You know what carbs after noon can do to you. This is more self-destructive behavior.”

  “Ah, the whiskey is mine and I helped her on the pizza. I actually encouraged her to eat. She’s getting a little skinny,” a familiar voice said.

  Damn it to hell. Holland shook her head and turned, praying the situation didn’t look as bad as she feared. Nope. It was so much worse. Dax stood there wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean waist, his chest all muscled and perfect. He carried a second towel, which he rubbed over his wet head.

  “Captain, why don’t you go and get dressed?” She managed to bite the words out, her whole body flaming with embarrassment.

  Dax grinned and winked her way. “Sorry, sweetheart. I thought we were alone.”

  “Well, you can see now that we’re not,” she shot back. “So clothes would really be appropriate here.”

  “All right, then. I suppose I could get dressed after our lazy morning.” He grabbed his bag and turned to the bathroom. Just when she thought she was home free, he whirled back, his eyes narrowing on Chad. “You look familiar, kid. Maybe I saw you on YouTube or someplace. And just so you know, Holland, I’m completely emotionally available, so don’t you go thinking you can use me for some psychosexual therapy thing. I am available to you in every way a man can be to his woman, darlin’.”

  She sighed as he strode off and closed the door behind him.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Chad had turned a perfect shade of red. Even his angry flush looked as if someone had painted it on his skin. He didn’t go blotchy the way she did.

  How had she ended up dating a man prettier than her? “It depends. Who do you think he is?”

  “Captain Daxton Spencer, one of the president’s closest friends, but more important, the man who dumped you for your best friend.”

  “I didn’t dump her. She dumped me and I ended up in a drunken marriage,” Dax yelled from the bathroom, proving that while she couldn’t hear anything outside her apartment, the walls were superthin inside. “So really when you think about it, it’s all Holland’s fault. Did she send me a happy divorce present? Nope. Not even a card.”

  She had something she could send him. Holland yanked a pillow off the sofa and threw it at the door, wishing it had been Dax’s head. “You jerk.”

  Chad ignored their byplay. He turned her around, hands tight on her shoulders. “That man used you and made you look like a fool. Everyone knows it.”

  “Really?” She wasn’t able to keep the bitterness from her tone. “Everyone? I think there are some people who don’t know. Maybe in Antarctica. And it’s none of your business.”

  “Of course it’s my business. I love you, Holland. I’m the man who stayed with you, the one who watched out for you. Not him.”

  She let go of her anger. It was misplaced. “You’ve misunderstood the situation, Chad. Captain Spencer and I are working together on a project. That’s all. We worked late and he ended up sleeping on the couch. But the truth of the matter is, my love life is no longer your concern. I appreciate that you came here to check on me, but it’s not necessary.”

  He strode to her dining room, looking to the whiteboard she’d set up and the documents they’d printed out and pinned there. Despite the fact that they each had a laptop, it was simply easier for them to look at everything together on a whiteboard. She preferred it because it often gave her an overview she didn’t have when she looked at pieces of evidence separately.

  His eyes flared as he turned to her. “Do you know what kind of trouble you could get into for giving that man access to those documents? Did you even run it by your supervisor? Some of these are NOLA PD documents. Did you get them transferred to you through proper channels?”

  Chad was big on proper channels. “My uncle gave them to me. You can ask him yourself.”

  “If he did, it wasn’t so you could call up that manwhore and lure him back into your life. This case is closed. It’s been closed for years. If Captain Spencer wants to stir up trouble again, let him do it on his own time.”

  “Would love to, but apparently I’m now on a presidential task force and Dax is my boss.”

  Chad stopped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she can’t talk about it.” Dax strode back into the room. At least this time he was wearing a pair of jeans. He seemed to have forgotten his shirt again. “This case is classified. I’ll let you know if we need the help of the New Orleans PD.” He turned her way. “Sweetheart, do you still like your eggs over medium?”

  “I like my eggs alone. They’re so much happier that way.” When had she completely lost control of the situation? This scene was like something out of a terrible comedy of errors, especially when Dax walked into the kitchen and proceeded to prove he knew exactly where she kept everything. How did he remember where she stored her skillet after three years?

  Chad frowned and took her by the elbow, hauling her back. “You need to explain to me what’s going on right now. Why is that man here?”

  “You need to get your hands off her,” Dax said, following them. He looked awfully masculine for a man with a cast-iron skillet and spatula in his hands. Somehow he made both ordinary kitchen tools look like the weapons of a predator.

  “I can handle Chad, Captain Spencer.”

  “Yes, Captain Spencer.” Chad curled one arm around her shoulders in a possessive move. “This is between me and my fiancée. So back off. I’ll put my hands on her whenever I like.”

  Dax started to puff up in that caveman way that shouldn’t be so damn sexy. But it was. Still, as interesting as it might be to see him take Chad down, she could do it herself.

  Holland grabbed Chad’s wrist to prod him to let her go. When he tightened his hold instead, she flipped him neatly onto his back, his weight hitting her floor with a loud bang that hopefully didn’t upset Madame Delphine in the unit beneath her.

  Chad leapt to his feet faster than she would have liked, his face now a florid red. “You’re going to regret this, Holland. When he fucks you over again, you’re going to wish you had chosen differently. You’re going to look back and regret ever leaving me.”

  He stormed out of the apartment.

  Dax grinned her way. “Or would you rather have an omelet?”

  She barely managed not to scream.

  THIRTEEN

  Dax couldn’t help it. He knew a smug grin sat plastered on his face since he was still standing inside Holland’s apartment and that dumbass was currently running away with his overly stylized tail between his legs. “Is your uncle recruiting officers at Abercrombie and Fitch these days?”

  She locked the door and took a deep breath before she turned around, a warning glare in her eyes. “Don’t even start. What the hell was all that preening peacock routine, Spencer?”

  Ah, they were back to Spencer. So she’d regrouped during the night. “I was just getting clean, partner. I intend to be a very good coworker to you, and part of that is keeping a good grooming ritual. And if you need any help at all with yours, I am here for you. I seem to remember there’s a place right at the small of your back that you struggle to reach. I can help.”

  She flushed and he was almost certain that pink color wasn’t all about anger. “I can handle it, Captain. After all, I’ve been handling it on my own for the last three years. Did you help your wife bathe?”

  She knew exactly where to stick the knife. “Do you want to talk about Courtney?”

  “No. I told you. I don’t care about your marriage or your divorce. Or anything but the case.” She huffed, a frustrated sound. “I’m going to get dressed and then we can start working. The faster we solve this thing, the quicker you’ll be out of my life.”

  She turned on her heel and stomped away.

  For a woman who didn’t want to talk about his marriage, she brought it up an awful lot. He sighed and went to her fridge to figure out what to make for breakfast. Maybe she would be in a better mood if he fed her.

  Dax really wished he’d punched that asshole. Carbs after noon? Was he fucking serious? Had he made Holland feel bad about her curves? She was a gorgeous woman, and he adored every inch of her. No one should ever make her feel like she wasn’t perfect.

  Though he did intend to get her to eat more.

  He opened the fridge and realized he would have to actually buy her some food to accomplish that. There was nothing in the fridge except a bagged salad, some condiments, and a small container of milk.

  What the hell? He put the pan down. He wouldn’t be showing off his culinary skills today. They were going to the damn grocery store, because he couldn’t survive on rabbit food.

  His cell phone rang. He’d already spoken with his mother, so it was likely either one of his friends or . . . “Hello, Gus. Are you doing all right?”

  “I’m great. I got to eat reporter for dinner last night. Dumbass kid thought he could sneak into a press conference on his boss’s credentials. Have I ever properly explained how much I enjoy ruining the lives of the completely stupid?”

  His sister was a pistol. “I know it’s a hobby of yours. Now ask me what you know you want to ask me.”

  She let loose a long sigh. “Fine. How is she?”

  Gus had missed Holland and had given him holy hell for their breakup and his impulsive marriage. “She’s Holland. She’s strong, but I hurt her.”

  “Asshole, you practically eviscerated her.”

  “You know at the time I thought she’d betrayed me in the worst way possible.” They’d been over this before, but he still felt the need to defend himself.

  “At the time, I believe I told you there was something fishy going on, but does anyone listen to me? You all think I’m just a gorgeous warrior woman, but I have deep feelings, too. Well, not really, but I appreciate it when others have them. And I know when someone is hiding something, which Holland definitely was. Women like Holland don’t change, not for money or sex or fame. So you need to get on your knees and beg like a good man should.”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t try that? She won’t listen to a word I say whether I’m on my knees or not.”

  His sister scoffed and he could practically see her rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about words, silly. I was talking about oral sex. You need to get down there and not let up until she’s had so many orgasms she’s too exhausted to fight you anymore. Trust me. This is a tried-and-true technique. I had to deal with a very obnoxious foreign ambassador last week. No one thought I could get him to move on trade concessions. But three hours later and the U.S. of A. had the deal of a lifetime.”

  Dax’s ears burned. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m a motherfucking patriot, brother. So I know of what I speak. Get on your knees and beg properly or I’ll come down there and make the noogie incident of eighty-nine look like a walk in the park. I want Holland as my sister-in-law.”

  Damn, Gus really was mean. “And I want to give her to you, though for my own selfish reasons. But I don’t think she’s going to give in so easily. I really hurt her.”

  “And she hurt you.” His sister’s voice softened. “Don’t give up. She loved you enough to let you go. You need to remind her that she loved you. She turned down that super cheesy engagement for a reason. Most women wouldn’t. That ring alone would have swayed the majority of women, but Holland didn’t even look at it. She just shook her head the whole time. You still have a shot with her.”

  Did he? He couldn’t stand the thought that he didn’t. “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try. Do. You’re a damn Spencer, Dax. It’s time you started acting like one. We don’t back away from the things we’ve done wrong. We fix them. You’ve spent the last three years of your life hiding and let everything slip away. I want my brother back.”

  Damn, Gus was right. He had hidden away and licked his wounds and tried to forget.

  He’d been an idiot. He should have stood strong, dug deeper, and figured the situation out. He should have been right back on her doorstep. He loved her. He’d never stopped loving her. If she’d kept up the ruse that she’d betrayed him, he should have made it plain that was unacceptable behavior and dealt with it. He should never have run.

  Dumbass.

  He’d left Holland all alone, abandoned. He’d left everyone who mattered to him when he really thought about it. And he’d done his father a grave disservice. Gus was right. Spencers didn’t shrink back when they’d done wrong. They faced it. Like his father would have faced a trial and fought like hell to reclaim his name and reputation. “Have you seen the pictures?”

  He’d sent them to Connor and Roman the night before.

  “Oh, yes. Roman tried to pretend they weren’t there. I guess he wanted to protect my delicate disposition.” She laughed. “But I know his passwords.”

  “Augustine!” a masculine voice shouted.

  So she was hanging out with Roman. Her voice went low. “You know the man has a weird Magnum P.I. fixation. So yes, I’ve seen them and I don’t believe them. They’re doctored in some way or he was drugged. Look at the sheets and the bedding. Do those look like they belong at a cheap motel?”

  He strode to the table and pulled out the file. In seconds, he located the printed pictures, blown up to reveal the image’s finer details. He hadn’t paid any attention to the actual furnishings or appointments, only the two people. “I don’t know a lot about sheets, Gus.”

  “Well, I do. Do you see how the sheet has a bit of a gloss to it?”

  “Like it’s satin or something? You don’t think the motel had satin sheets?”

  She made a gagging sound. “No one has satin sheets, brother. Seriously, leave the seventies behind. I’m saying that the sheets have a nice thread count. Higher than the crap they would have at a no-tell motel. Beyond that, I examined the corner of the third photo.”

  He flipped through until he found the image she referred to. It was a picture with the sheets gathered around the couple on the bed. All of the photos had been taken from a single location in the room and captured the same general view. In this one, his father seemed to be on top of the young girl, his body pinning her to the bed. There was no way to miss the scar on his back. He’d taken fire once and the shrapnel left a silvery section of scars on his back, winding around to his chest. For a moment that was all he could see—the seeming proof that his father had been unfaithful and criminal. “I’m looking at it.”

  “First off, this photo doesn’t look very active. Stop looking at it like a son and put your thinking cap on. I’m putting you on speaker because Roman’s poking me.”

  “Hey, first off, I did not put her up to that crap with the Brazilian ambassador. I knew nothing,” Roman said quickly. “Secondly, I think she’s right about this picture. If these two are engaged in sex, why are his muscles so slack? She’s the only one who seems to have any motion in these photos. Hell, she’s the only one who looks coherent.”

  Dax put his cell on speaker and laid out the photos. He’d spent so much time focused on that scar that identified his father. He’d seen these pictures through the eyes of a son betrayed and hadn’t truly studied them as an investigator. He forced himself to pull back.

  The muscles of his father’s back were completely at rest. In every photo. The only movement he could discern was the girl’s. She pushed at him as though trying to fight off an attack. But Dax wasn’t convinced that one had actually happened.

  “He’s drugged,” Dax said.

  “We can’t know that beyond all doubt, but the lax state of the musculature leads me to believe that your father wasn’t as engaged physically as the people who sent these photos want us to think,” Roman said.

  “Let me translate the lawyer speak for you,” Gus offered. “These pictures are complete bullshit.”

  Roman sighed. “She’s probably right.”