Stupid, stupid Magdalena. You have been royally fucked once again.
She started to roll the paper into a ball, rocked by the sudden need to throw it down and grind it under her foot as if it was Michael Scott.
But then she stopped and cupped her hands over it, the urge to protect it strong. The urge to protect the beauty that grew inside of her.
That was the real meaning of the message in the fortune cookie.
She tucked the paper back into her jeans pocket and then, just as she’d done the last time someone betrayed her, she ran for her life.
Only this time, she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER ONE
Fourteen Years Later
ALL HE WANTED to do was make a clean getaway.
But Dan Gallagher knew the minute he stepped out of the Bullet Catchers’ headquarters that this exit would be anything but clean.
Leaning against his Maserati was the one person who wouldn’t let him get away with anything.
“Slinking out so soon?” Max asked, crossing his arms over his massive chest, his hair still sweaty from the company touch football game.
“Slinking is generally done through the back door, Roper. I’m going out the way I came in.”
Max narrowed dark eyes at Dan.
“Out for good?”
“Out for now.”
“You’re crushed.”
Dan laughed. “No, but if you don’t get out of my way, you will be.” He pulled his keys out. “I got a plane to catch.”
“Not taking a Bullet Catcher jet?” Of course he didn’t move.
“Nope. It’s personal business.”
Max just cocked his head, never wasting a word. They hadn’t had “personal business” they didn’t share in twenty years.
“Come on,” Dan said. “I’m seriously late getting to the airport.”
“Did she tell you everything?” Max asked.
Dan glanced up to the second-story window overlooking the drive, to Lucy Sharpe’s private library and office. She’d probably gone to the back patio to celebrate with the others. These were happy days for her company. For her.
“She didn’t have to tell me anything. It’s all over her glowing face. And I’m delighted for her.”
Max choked. “Delighted?”
“What?” Dan countered. “You don’t believe I’m not happy that a woman I’ve worked for and been friends with for years has found . . .” Freedom from whatever misery had kept her in an emotional prison for a long time? He’d never had the key to that jail cell, but Jack Culver had proven himself more than capable. “Has found bliss,” he finished.
“Delighted and bliss in the same speech?”
“Shut up. She’s happy, and I’m …” Free to move on. “Happy for her. We’re all just one big, happy Bullet Catcher family. And a growing one, at that.” At Max’s look, he just shook his head. “I swear to God, I’m not lying.”
“You’re rationalizing. Which is another word for lying, only to yourself. And while your ability to bend the truth has served you well in countless undercover situations, this is real life.”
Dan scowled at him. “Did aliens come and take Mad Max Roper? Or has marriage and fatherhood turned you into Dr. Phil? And since when isn’t a UC situation real life?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Fear not, my man. I’ve never been better. I’m free.”
“Free.”
“Yeah. Free. Lucy, in case you haven’t surmised from her radiance, has made the ultimate commitment with Culver. Do I agree with her choice of partners?” He shrugged. “Not my problem. Do I wish it was me up there perusing a baby name book? Hell, no. I know you think you’ve cracked the code with Cori and little Peyton, and maybe you have. But I don’t want that key. I like the status quo.”
Unrelenting brown eyes narrowed. “More rationalizing.”
Call it whatever you want.” He gave Max’s meaty shoulder a smack with the file in his hand. “Now go eat some charred meat like a good Rottweiler. You’re missing the party and all the gossip about the reasons behind my leave of absence.”
“A leave of absence, with a Bullet Catcher dossier still warm from the Research and Investigative Department printer?”
The son of a bitch didn’t miss a trick. “Just grabbed a file on an old friend I might look up in the Keys.”
“You’re going to Florida? Cori and I are going down to Miami tomorrow, to her place on Star Island. Why don’t you stay with us for a few days?”
“And get psychoanalyzed by the two of you? No thanks. Anyway, I’ll be a couple of hours south, in Marathon.”
“Doing what?” Max pressed.
“Fishing.”
“You don’t own a tackle box. What’s going on down there?”
“Nothing.” He hoped. “I’m taking some time to myself. See an old friend.