Cold Dark Heart by Julie Kriss

Thirteen

Damon

I was fucking this up.

I was alienating Andie. I was making her mad. I was overstepping. She was my boss, and I wasn’t treating her like it. I wasn’t even treating her like an equal. I wasn’t treating her like anything at all.

This had always been my problem—well, one of them. Aside from having a lifelong problem with authority—an excellent quality for a federal agent—and a constant instinct to fuck things up just because I could. I also had a hard time with feelings. Specifically other people’s, and not hurting them. I was bad at it.

I had a talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, even if that thing was true. I had the ability to tell a woman to her face that I wasn’t interested in dating her anymore, no excuses, I just wasn’t. Or the ability to tell a colleague that I thought he was about to get demoted or laid off. People don’t want to hear that stuff. It was something I rarely bothered to remember.

But I didn’t want to hurt Andie’s feelings. I actually didn’t want to, which was unusual for me, because usually I just didn’t care. And now I had information that I was pretty sure she didn’t know, that would hurt her feelings if I gave it to her. And she had asked me to tell her. And I had needed to stop myself, all of which was alien and felt uncomfortable. Everything about Andie made me uncomfortable.

I was here for a job—a free one, at that, at least for now. She was Terry’s ex-wife and my boss. I wasn’t supposed to sneak glimpses at her ass when she wore those jeans, which she did every day. I wasn’t supposed to picture getting her into bed and making her scream. And, worst of all, I wasn’t supposed to actually want to help her and somehow protect her feelings.

And yet, I was doing all of it.

I kept my expression distantly professional and my gaze straight ahead as we left the Wild and got into Andie’s car. I kept my tone professional as we discussed whether I would drive again, because when I did it gave her time to answer emails and deal with business over her phone. I didn’t ask her why she was late this morning or what seemed to have stressed her out so much, because it was none of my business. I got in the driver’s seat, got an address from my boss, and started driving.

We were going to a brewery today, a local one that was one of the Wild’s top suppliers. Apparently the bar had had Newtown brand beer on tap since the place opened twenty years ago, and it was a favorite of the regulars.

“Our customers say it’s really, really good beer,” Andie said as she flipped through the papers she’d brought with her in her messenger bag.

“Tragically, I will never know,” I replied. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh, I’ve never tried it myself. Though maybe I should. With the way today is going, I might start drinking.”

I glanced at her as I got on the highway and tapped the gas. “I’m sorry I overstepped back there,” I managed. “I shouldn’t have used your office without asking you.”

It was an apology for the least of my offenses, which was the only apology I could manage. Baby steps.

Andie laughed softly, because she wasn’t buying it. “No problem, Damon. Use my office anytime you want.”

She didn’t deserve this. After spending so many years married to Terry, she deserved to be treated better than I was treating her now. “I’ll make your list,” I said. “I’ll itemize what we need at the Wild to increase security, and I’ll get quotes for everything. It’s up to you what we do and when.”

“How magnanimous of you.” She wasn’t stupid, this woman. She wasn’t going to smile and let me off the hook when I hadn’t earned it. Damn it.

I was going to say something else—probably another apology attempt that would be embarrassing in its lameness—when Andie changed the subject.

“Oh, look,” she said, her voice dry as she lifted a paper from her small stack. “It seems we owe Newtown Brewing money, too. What a surprise.”

“Maybe you won’t get hit on this time,” I offered.

“Considering we’re meeting with a woman, the chances are low.”

“But not zero.”

Andie put the unpaid bill down and looked at me, her eyebrows going up. “Do you actually think a lesbian would hit on me?”

It seemed to be a serious question, so I answered seriously. “Yes. I do.”

Why that made her blush, I had no idea, but her cheeks went red. “That’s very flattering, I guess,” she said. “Thank you.”

I laughed. “I think this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

Andie was silent for a moment as I exited the highway and maneuvered through the city streets. “What did Jimmy tell you, Damon?” she asked, her voice soft. “Please tell me. I promise I can take it.”

Ah, fuck. I’d let my guard down. I swallowed. “It isn’t good,” I warned her.

“I promise not to shoot the messenger.”

We were almost at the brewery now, and I stalled for time as I signalled to enter the parking lot, then told the security guard who we were here to meet. He waved us to a parking spot in the visitor side of the lot. Andie was still waiting.

“The girlfriend Terry’s with now,” I said as I parked the car. “He met her at the Wild.”

She was silent, digesting that. She hadn’t known; I could tell. She nodded slowly. “Okay. Is there more?”

We were sitting in the silent car now, about to go in to a meeting that could be difficult. “Andie—”

“Tell me.”

“She wasn’t the first.” Shit, that hurt to say. Physically hurt, like glass in my throat. I’d never felt that before. “There were women before her that he met at the Wild. Jimmy has only worked there a few months, so he doesn’t know when it started. But it’s happened at least that long, and likely longer. It’s an open secret among the staff.”

She flinched at my words—physically flinched, as if something was coming at her. The blush was gone from her cheeks, and now she was pale. When she opened her eyes again, they were empty in a way I didn’t like at all.

I had done that to her. Me. Maybe she had asked me for it, but it didn’t fucking matter. I had made her look like that, and I felt like shit for it.

“Okay,” she said again.

I couldn’t think of anything adequate to say. That I was sorry. That I hadn’t wanted to tell her, but she forced me to. That it wasn’t my fault, or hers. That I could fix it. That I would fix it.

I couldn’t promise her that. Instead, I said the only true thing that came to my mind. “He’s gone, Andie. You’re done with him.”

“He’s still Miles’s father.” Her voice was a pained croak. “Though you were right about that, too. He’s a shit parent. Half the time he doesn’t pick up Miles’s calls.” She shook her head. “So, no, I’m not really done with Terry, am I? I never will be.”

“You’ll figure out a way to deal with him,” I said.

She laughed bitterly. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re smart. You’re definitely smarter than Terry. That part isn’t even hard.”

Andie shook her head at the compliment, such as it was. Then she steeled her spine and put her papers in her messenger bag. “Let’s get this meeting over with.”