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  He disappeared with the bottle and glass.

  “What’s corked mean?” Angie looked puzzled.

  “Basically, it’s when the wine tastes like damp cardboard. It comes from natural fungi in the cork that interacts with products used in the sanitation process. It’s not too common anymore, but anytime you have natural cork, there’s a danger of it happening.”

  “Wow, you really know your wine.”

  “You’ve probably had wine that didn’t taste quite right before. Or smell right. That’s corked, though there are other issues that can cause problems. Basically, if it tastes funny, send it back.”

  She seemed impressed. “Where did you learn all this?”

  He shrugged. “I like wine. Good wine.”

  The waiter returned with another bottle and the sommelier, who apologized profusely for the previous bottle. The new one was fine, so the waiter poured two glasses and disappeared again.

  Angie sipped from her glass and smiled. “Well, I don’t know much about wine, but I know I like this one.”

  “It’ll be perfect with steak.”

  “You surprise me, Colt. I had no idea wine was your thing.”

  “It’s one of my things. I like good food and wine.”

  “And you cook and clean house.”

  “I’d make a great house husband.”

  Angie laughed. “I guess you would. Except you’d be gone a lot with your job, so maybe not quite so great after all.”

  “Maybe I just need a woman who’ll keep me in style so I can quit my job and take care of the house.”

  She blinked. “You’re joking.”

  He grinned. “Yep, totally.”

  He could picture himself settling down with someone the way Jace had settled down with Maddy, and the way Brett was currently settling in with Tallie. But, like them, he wasn’t leaving BDI and giving up his profession. It was too important. Doing his job meant that the world stayed safe so ordinary people could get married and have babies and live their lives without any idea about all the rotten shit going on behind the thin layer of civility they enjoyed.

  Angie’s cheeks were beginning to flush pink with the wine, and her eyes sparkled. He pictured a future in which he settled down with her, in which he kissed her goodbye in the morning and went off to battle the world’s monsters.

  But he knew it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t ask her to be a part of his world. It was too dangerous, too unpredictable. She was too fragile. He’d have thought the same thing about Maddy and Tallie, to be honest, but it turned out they had hidden strengths that Angie didn’t have.

  How do you know she doesn’t have them?

  He pushed that voice away. He knew. She’d had trouble bringing herself to the level of merely talking to him. How would she ever grow accustomed to his life when it was filled with the possibility of violence and danger?

  She’d had a taste of it once, when Natasha Orlova, aka Calypso, abducted her and then used her to get to Maddy—shooting him in the process—and he didn’t think she wanted more. He didn’t think she particularly liked that Maddy was going to marry Jace, but she’d never actually said anything to the contrary.

  “How did you and Maddy meet?” he asked, deciding to steer the conversation in a new direction.

  “High school,” Angie said. “We met in homeroom, and that was that. We’ve been best friends since we were fifteen.”

  “You grew up in Annapolis then?”

  “Yes. It’s home, though my parents moved to Florida about eight years ago. They were older when they had me, so they’ve retired and headed for warmer weather.” She took another sip of wine. “What about you?”

  He’d known the question was coming but he didn’t have a good answer for it. He opted for the truth. It wasn’t a secret. It just wasn’t something he talked much about. Too many minefields to navigate. “I grew up in France. My dad died in an accident when I was fourteen, and we moved to California.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no. I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  He felt like she meant those words. He still had trouble talking about it. Everything changed when his dad was killed. The trajectory of his life, his mother’s life. “Thank you. It was a long time ago now, but yeah, it was hard.”

  “So you’re French then?”

  “I am. But I’m an American too. My mother’s from Napa. She met my dad through work. They married and she moved to France. When he died, we moved back.”

  There was more to it than that, but thinking about those particular minefields would piss him off. And he didn’t want to be pissed off while on a date with Angie. Especially since it might be the only date they ever went on.

  “I guess you grew up bilingual.”

  “I did, though I consider French my first language. It’s what was spoken most when I was a child. My mother was the one who spoke English to me.”

  “How did you end up in Maryland?”

  “Ian Black found me and recruited me.”

  Angie tilted her head as she studied him. “I have a feeling you left a lot out of that story.”

  He had, but there were things he didn’t like to talk about. “It’s not all that interesting.”

  “Okay,” she said. He liked that she didn’t push. “What about brothers and sisters?”

  “No brothers or sisters. I have three first cousins though.” Cousins he hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Not since his uncle took control of the family estate and fortune.

  “Do you see them often?”

  “Not often, no.”

  Their steaks came then. After the waiter was gone, Angie ate a bite of steak and then sipped her wine. “Oh my god,” she practically moaned. “That’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  He grinned. “The right wine makes everything perfect.”

  “Seriously, how do you know so much about wine?”

  “My father was a winemaker. My mother works in the business. It’s in my blood, I guess.” That was more than he’d told anyone in a long time. Because it still hurt, knowing he’d been cut from the family business when his uncle took control.

  “Yet you didn’t go into the business yourself.”

  “I didn’t. It’s not for me.”

  Angie didn’t say anything else about the wine, thank God. They moved on to more superficial topics then. Ones that didn’t make his insides tighten, or cause the dull light of old anger to flare bright. After they polished off the steaks, they shared a slice of cheesecake.

  Angie sat back and smiled as she put her fork down. “That was really good. I ate too much.”

  “I’m impressed, actually. Most women pick at their food on a date. At least that’s been my experience.” He liked that she ate something besides salad. She had last night too.

  “I guess this is a date, isn’t it? And as for picking at dinner, no way in hell am I wasting an opportunity to eat great food.”

  “Me neither.”

  She laughed. Then she dropped her gaze, her cheeks turning pink again. Before he could puzzle it out, she lifted her lashes. “Do you want to have coffee at my place?” she asked softly.

  His groin tightened. “I’d like that. Very much.”

  Chapter Three

  Angie wasn’t sure what had motivated her to ask Colt over, but she couldn’t rescind the invitation now. They’d sat in the restaurant for another half an hour or so, and then Colt paid the check even though she’d objected. He told her she could pay the next time and she’d accepted.

  He’d followed her home, and now she was buzzing around the kitchen and preparing coffee—the one thing she could manage in a kitchen, along with toast and the microwave—while Colt walked around her living room and looked at her pictures. There were photos of her and Maddy, her parents, and even Pugsy Malone, the Pug dog they’d had growing up. There were pictures with friends, travel photos, and one photo of her and Dan and Maddy that she should probably put away but that she liked—in spite of Dan’s presence in it.

  “Who’s this g
uy?” Colt asked, pointing. Naturally he’d have honed in on that one.

  “You aren’t curious about the others?”

  “Nope. This one.”

  Angie finished scooping coffee into the basket, slid it in place, and flipped the switch. “Can I ask why?”

  He looked up as she approached, arms folded over her chest. She knew it made her seem defensive, but she didn’t unfold them.

  “It’s the way he’s looking at you. Possessively. None of the other pictures have that.”

  Angie gaped at him. Was Dan really looking at her that way? Maybe. He’d always been the jealous type. And no wonder, since he knew intimately how to persuade women to sleep with him. He must have expected that some other guy was out there, ready to do the same to her.

  “That’s really kind of uncanny, you know. Yes, you’re right. Dan was my fiancé. We were together about three years. We’d planned to get married, but the time was never right. Which turned out to be code for Dan liked the ladies and didn’t want to settle down.”

  “Yikes. Sorry.”

  “Yep. You’re probably wondering why I keep the photo displayed. It’s not because of him—honestly, it’s in the past and I no longer care.” Not about Dan anyway. She did care that she’d been hurt by his betrayal. It’s what made dating again so damned difficult. “It’s Maddy and me and the mountain in the background. That was the first time we went skiing together. It was fun and the picture reminds me of that day.”

  “Who took the photo?”

  “Ah, well, that would be Maddy’s boyfriend. He didn’t last long, though I’m sure she’s told Jace about him anyway.”

  “I’m sure she has.”

  Angie sat in the armchair across from the couch. Colt didn’t comment on it as he sank onto the sofa. But he had to know she’d put a table between them on purpose. Geez, she was really messing up, wasn’t she?

  “Angie.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s okay. If you’re more comfortable over there, I’m not offended. I’m still shocked you asked me over, so the fact you’re sitting opposite and not beside me isn’t a dealbreaker.”

  She could feel her blush growing even hotter. Damn her pale complexion anyway. “It’s a little scary how you know what I’m thinking.”

  He grinned. “It’s not too hard to figure out. You’re blushing, and it started when you sat. I could tell you were arguing with yourself about whether or not you’d been too obvious when you put a table between us. Truthfully, if you’d sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside you, I’d have wondered if you were drunk in spite of the fact you stopped drinking earlier in the evening.”

  “I’m not drunk. You know that.”

  “I do. Now relax. We’re going to have coffee and keep talking. Then I’m going to leave. If you let me, I’ll kiss your cheek. And if you don’t, that’s fine too.”

  Angie pulled in a breath. Her body sizzled with awareness of the man across from her. He was tall, handsome, blond as a surfer—she was still surprised that he’d been born and raised in France—and his body rippled with muscle when he moved. He had the kind of scruffy beard she could imagine scraping sensuously over her tender flesh, and piercing blue eyes that didn’t miss a damned thing. He’d worn a navy henley and dark green khakis, and looking at him made her belly tighten.

  “I swear I’m not mental,” she said. “But I can’t seem to go back to being the person I was before.”

  “You experienced a lot of trauma in a short amount of time. It’s normal to be mistrustful of people.”

  He didn’t have to ask before what. He knew. She loved that he knew. It wasn’t just the thing with Tom Walls—it was also the abduction and being locked in a cage with a bomb. It was knowing she’d led a killer straight to her best friend. Knowing Colt had been shot because of her. Those things were far more traumatic than a cheating fiancé and a bad break up.

  “I hate that she shot you,” Angie said. “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t led her straight to Maddy.”

  Colt frowned. “I told you before it’s not your fault. It’s the job. And she was finding Maddy one way or the other, so stop blaming yourself. I’m alive. I’m fine. You didn’t cause it to happen.”

  Angie pulled in a breath. Her throat was tight. “I know you don’t blame me. But I sometimes blame myself.”

  “Then stop. Holding onto the past is like swallowing poison. It eats you up inside. You have to let it go.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not. I know that. You just make a choice every day—every moment if you have to—to move past it and stop letting it control you. You’re giving this thing too much of yourself, Angie. Is it worth the cost in hours of your life that you’re giving it? Or could you be doing something else with your time?”

  She could feel her jaw drop a little. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “You should. Think of your life like a bank account. Everything you give your time to requires you to make a withdrawal. When you have a choice, choose the things that make you happy and fulfill you, not the things that make you anxious or sad.”

  “Wow. Okay, so do you have a psychology degree or something? Because that is some heavy shit right there.”

  He laughed. “No psych degree. Just the school of life. A psychologist might be horrified by what I just said. I don’t know. But it works for me.”

  The coffee pot dinged and Angie stood. “I’m going to start thinking of it like that too. I know it’s not a quick cure or anything, but I’m an accountant. Anything that uses bank withdrawals kind of trips my trigger.”

  He laughed.

  “Cream and sugar? Black?” she asked.

  “Black. Can I help?”

  “No, you just sit there. I’ll get it.”

  She returned with the coffee. This time she sat on the couch. They weren’t touching, weren’t even close, but it felt like a victory anyway. He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. She smiled back.

  He gently tapped his coffee cup to hers. “To new beginnings.”

  “New beginnings,” she echoed.

  Colt’s phone dinged with a text the next morning at the range. He felt it go off but finished his shots before having a look.

  Angie: I had fun last night. Thanks for dinner.

  Colt: Me too. Thanks for coffee after.

  Angie: I like what you said. It made a lot of sense. I’m working on filling the bank account, not depleting it.

  Colt: I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.

  Angie: I think so too. I’m determined to get there. Think you might want to get dinner again sometime?

  Colt: Just tell me when.

  Angie: Okay, I will. Gotta get back to work right now.

  Colt: I’ll call you later.

  Angie: Great!

  Jace wandered over, pocketing his phone. He arched an eyebrow.

  “So you went out with Angie.”

  Colt knew better than to be surprised. Angie would have told Maddy. Maddy told Jace.

  “Yep. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Me? I don’t care one way or the other. But Maddy does, and she’s thrilled. She thinks Angie’s been existing rather than living, and she wants to see her happy.”

  Colt frowned. “That’s putting a lot on me, don’t you think? I like her—a lot—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be the one to make her happy in the end.”

  “I hear you, man. Maddy knows that deep down, but I think right now she just wants to believe it’s possible. I think, aside from all the stuff with Walls and Calypso, Angie hasn’t really taken any chances since she broke up with Dan. Maddy said she’s gone out with a couple of men, but nothing serious.”

  “What do you know about this Dan guy?”

  “Not much. They were together three years, but he turned out to be a serial cheater and Angie dumped him. That was around two years ago, right about the time she started working as an accountant. She’d worked her ass off to get her accou
nting degree and save money for their future together, but then it all fell apart. She hasn’t had a relationship since. Or that’s what Maddy tells me.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Nope.”

  “How does Maddy know I’m not a serial cheater?” He wasn’t, but he wanted to know why she had such faith in him.

  Jace shrugged. “She doesn’t. But she knows if you hurt her friend, I know how to dispose of the body when she murders you.”

  Colt snorted. “Point taken. But Jace, we had dinner together. We went to her place for coffee—actual coffee, nothing more. I’m not ordering wedding invitations or booking venues, okay? It was dinner and coffee. We may have dinner again. I’m not promising anything, other than I won’t deliberately hurt her.”

  “I know.” Jace smiled a wolfish smile. “Just be sure you stick to that promise. Disposing of bodies is messy business. Plus I’d have a lot of explaining to do when Ian never heard from you again.”

  Colt shook his head as he put his weapons back into his range bag. “I thought domesticity would mellow you. Wrong.”

  Jace’s eyes glittered for a second. “Domesticity doesn’t mellow guys like us, Colt. It only makes us fiercer and more protective of the ones we love.”

  Angie finished up the account she was working on, then went to the break room to get coffee. Liam was there, pouring a cup for himself. He looked up when she walked in.

  “You’re looking rather perky today. Did you have a hot date last night?”

  Angie couldn’t help but smile. “Actually, I did.”

  “Whoa, really? Tell Uncle Liam all about it.”

  Angie grabbed the coffee pot with a laugh. “There’s not much to tell. It’s someone I know and I finally asked him out.” There was a lot more to it than that, but she didn’t want to go into details about her push-pull with Colt over the past few months.

  “Anybody I know?”

  “You don’t know him. He works with my best friend’s fiancé.”

  “An FBI guy.”

  “Yes.” Neither Jace nor Colt were FBI, but it was a convenient way to describe what they did. She’d taken to calling Jace an FBI guy in conversation because it was easier than the truth. Which she still didn’t really know, but based on her experience he was more of a spy than a cop. A spy for hire, she thought, which made him a mercenary.