Saving Joe

She thought she might’ve felt Joe shrug before settling the dog across their laps. By which point they were wedged so close at their shoulders, hips and legs that damp heat fogged between them. Joe’s warmth came as a stark contrast to the sharp rock digging into Gillian’s other shoulder.

As the water in the cave rose, its pounding smacks against the rocks lessened into deceptively gentle laps.

Was it coming for them? Or had their dry patch of sand told the truth about keeping them safe?

Bud whimpered.

Gillian instinctively reached down to pet him, only her hand collided with Joe’s.

He jerked his back.

Thank God. Had he felt it, too? A sort of split-second biochemical hum passing between them?

She rubbed Bud’s silky-soft ear, which was much easier than attempting to deal with her sudden uncomfortable awareness of Joe as a man instead of her assignment. Biochemical. That attraction? All science, and nothing else.

No denying Joe was a bona fide hottie.

Which only helped make their current situation all the more uncomfortable. What this awkward mess called for was talk. Lots and lots of talk. From the first day she’d opened Joe’s file, she’d found a question burning to be asked. To some, it might seem insensitive, maybe even flip, but to a man who loved his family as much as Joe Morgan, there was something about his recent actions that didn’t add up.

She cleared her throat, then went for it. “How come you left Meghan with your wife’s parents?”

“What?” Even in the pitch-black cave, Joe’s fury was plain to see. He’d tensed his entire body. His leg and arm, which moments earlier had been pliant, were now unyielding stone.

Ack. The question had been brutal, the answer none of her business. So why couldn’t she now keep from blurting, “Sorry, but it doesn’t make sense. You just leaving her. Seems to me if you wanted to protect her, you’d keep her with you.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he said with a deep sigh. “I see her as often as I think it’s safe. I call a lot, too. Yeah, I’d like to be with her more, but seeing how, thanks to everyone’s favorite drug lord, I’m now your basic danger magnet, in my best parental judgment, the only way she’s safe is if I’m gone.”

Under the cover of darkness, Gillian rolled her eyes. “That’s a crock. What if Tsun-Chung kidnaps her or your in-laws, using them as bait to get to you?”

“Drop it, Mary Sunshine. Believe me, the thought’s occurred to me, and it’s not one I like to dwell on.”

“We could protect all of you.”

“Like you did my wife?”

“Odds are, that kind of thing would never happen again.”

“Promise?”

Therein lay the problem.

Of course Gillian couldn’t promise. And though she had faith in herself and in her co-workers to do their very best, she saw Joe’s point. He’d been burned once by the Witness Protection Program. Why would he want to stick his hand back in the fire?

Unable to argue with Joe’s logic, she tried being quiet, but the darkness was oppressive. Complete. Reminded her of that creepy forest they’d marched through on the way from Joe’s cabin. Even though they were surely safe from any thug types, her internal danger meter sprouted a fresh crop of goose bumps on her arms.

“You might feel better if you chat,” she said, itchy to calm her sudden nerves.

“I might feel better? Or you?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “You got me. Never been a big fan of the dark.”

“I am. It’s peaceful.”

“It’s dangerous. Boring.”

“You ever shut up?”

Being constantly around men, Joe’s bark didn’t phase her. “You always this much fun?”

“Fun? You call being crammed into a freezing cave that smells like dead fish, with a half-dead dog, no food or water, and a woman who talks more than she breathes, fun?”

At that, Gillian shook her head. “Have you ever in your whole life looked on the bright side of a situation?”

“Yeah. And then my wife died and nothing in my life has ever been bright again.”

Instantly sobered, Gillian swallowed hard. “Bud’s gonna be okay. That’s bright, isn’t it?”

“Sure. Thanks to you.” She felt him lean forward, heard him sigh. “Sorry to be such rotten company. I really do owe you for helping my pal, here, but…” Joe stopped talking to rub the scruff on the animal’s neck. She knew, not because she could see him, but because her own hand rested on the dog’s head. Her fingers tingled from Joe’s radiated heat. “…it’s just that this is hard for me.”

“What?”

“Small talk. Pretending we have anything even remotely in common.”

“Oh, I’ll bet between us we could come up with something. What’d you think of the last Brad Pitt movie?”

“Didn’t see it.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Black.”

She made a face. Kind of morose, but she supposed apropos, considering where he’d been emotionally.

“Used to be green,” he surprisingly volunteered. “So?

“What?”

“Your favorite color? It’s been awhile since I had a polite conversation, but isn’t that how it goes? I talk, then you talk?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about your green.”

“What about it?”

“Which one? There are only about a zillion. Kelly green and bamboo. Forest and teal—which is really more of a blue, but—”

“Money green. I used to spend a lot of time worrying about making it. Then, once I had more than I could spend in a lifetime, I worried about keeping it.” He rubbed his chin. “I should’ve spent more time on my wife and kid. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been checking out that new warehouse. I would’ve been home with them, playing a game of Candyland or grilling by the pool.”

“What happened to Willow—it wasn’t your fault.”