Not that she was opposed to the ticket. It was obvious by watching her speedometer decelerate that she’d earned it. But this was why she’d come here, to see him. Kylie wished she could see his face better, read his facial expression. But, unless he’d moved on, he probably was guarding his feelings as much as she was guarding hers.
“I don’t know if I was in a hurry, but I was obviously not paying attention to how fast I was going. I’ve been driving all night,” she admitted, aching to take his hat off. It was as bad as if he wore dark sunglasses late at night. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and a moment of silence passed before his deep baritone brushed over her again, causing every hair on her body to stand at attention and her insides to tighten, creating a heat she was sure he must be able to notice.
“I find it hard to believe a special agent with the FBI wasn’t paying attention,” he accused. “Why are you here, Kylie?”
His cold words were a stab to her heart. He didn’t want her here. She could barely answer from the lump that threatened to close her throat. Worse yet, she didn’t know how to answer. And if she did, her voice would crack, her leg would give out, or something else would happen to make this moment turn from bad to worse.
As a warm breeze wrapped around her, a damp sweat spread over her body and her heart pattered furiously in her chest. Lately panic attacks were hitting her without warning. The psychiatrist she’d been forced to visit after being shot told her they were possibly a reaction to the medication she’d been on in the hospital. Not to mention, being shot was a traumatic experience, not only physically but also emotionally. Everyone handled it differently.
Kylie wasn’t sure she agreed either of those was the reason for her sudden erratic emotions. “I have some time off,” she heard herself say.
“So passing through again?”
Maybe it was for the best that she not even make it into town before learning she wasn’t wanted here. If she continued with this conversation she would break down, right here on the side of the interstate in the dark. Stability would return to her in time. And her own mental counseling told her that once she put closure where closure belonged and understood if there was anything between her and Perry, she would have better control of her emotions. As before, she would be able to keep them in check, under lock and key.
First, though, she feared, she needed to get that key back, because someone had stolen her heart.
“Let me get my driver’s license. You need to write your ticket.” She couldn’t take him standing there, not moving, his dark, cold manner eating her alive. “I promise not to speed again.”
He didn’t stop her, or comment, when she turned her back on him and leaned into her car. When the muscles in her outer thigh, around the mending wound, quivered as she shifted her weight, she braced herself, putting her hand on her opened door. Perry didn’t say anything, or stop her from getting her purse and registration out of her car.
An emptiness consumed her when he took her information and returned to his car. He didn’t tell her to wait in her car or follow him to his. She saw his partner sitting in the passenger seat, although she didn’t take time to note his reaction to her being here. She’d never had time to know Carl Ramos, but more than likely he would know something about her. At least Perry’s opinion of her being here when he returned to his patrol car.
Kylie felt as though she floated without direction all of a sudden. While recovering and then after spending time with her parents, she knew without a doubt she would return here. All that was on her mind throughout her recovery was seeing Perry. Maybe she should have exerted the effort to pick up the phone and call him. Why had she thought returning here would be like it was in movies, with the two of them running into each other’s arms and promising to be together forever?
Forever didn’t exist for her.
Although it seemed like forever, barely eight minutes passed before Perry returned, handing her personal information back to her, and a small clipboard for her to sign for the speeding ticket. Her hand was so damp and she was so shaken, she doubted the signature was legible. It didn’t matter. He tore her copy for her, handed it to her with his gloved hand, without bending down to see her better as she sat in her car. Another plus, tears threatened to fall and a pending pity party would release soon enough.
“You didn’t say how long you would be here,” he said, his tone still flat, unwelcoming, while he stood outside her car door.
With her window down, the temperature inside her car rose drastically. Sweat beaded over her flesh under her clothes, adding to her discomfort.
“I… I’m not sure,” she said, admitting to herself it was the truth. In spite of her two months off, did she really want to stay where she wasn’t wanted? There wasn’t any point in going to the interview. She couldn’t stay here, or work here. This was Perry’s town. If she wasn’t welcome, she wasn’t welcome.
“Where are you headed?”
That much was a simple answer. “I have reservations at the Holiday Inn.”
“I’ll follow you there.”
Kylie turned to look up at him, confused why he would suggest doing so. But he’d turned already, returning to his car.
Way too aware of his headlights beaming in her rearview mirror, Kylie was so sick to her stomach when she pulled into the hotel parking lot she couldn’t think what to do. Her luggage was in the trunk. But should she haul all of it in?
Perry parked at the edge of the parking lot, not getting out of his car, and possibly doing paperwork. He watched her when she walked into the lobby and checked in, and Kylie felt his eyes boring into her backside when she moved her car in front of her motel room door. Did he want to see how much luggage she’d brought? That would clue him in on how long she planned on staying here.
He didn’t approach her, didn’t offer to help with her luggage, and didn’t pull out of the parking lot when she finally decided on her overnight bag and laptop, then disappeared into her room and closed her door. Like she would be able to sleep with him sitting out there.
After pacing the room for fifteen minutes, sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed when her leg started throbbing and peeking out the closed curtain half a dozen times to see him still sitting there, she finally opted for a hot bath. When she got out, still nervous and feeling more out of sorts than she had when she climbed into the hot water, Perry’s patrol car was gone.
A part of her left with him. Kylie climbed into the too-large bed, cuddling into a fetal position, and let the tears fall.
On Wednesday, Kylie had been in Mission Hills for two days. Her laptop was online, available for instant messages, but none came. Her cell was fully charged, and she got several phone calls. None of them were from Perry. She’d forced herself to go to the mall, trepidation over running into one of his nieces bringing on another of her annoying panic attacks. But when she saw no one she knew, even when she drove to the grocery store and purchased a few things to eat in her motel room to give herself a break from restaurant food, the overwhelming emptiness threatened to consume her.
Perry couldn’t make his message clearer if he yelled it in her face. He was no longer interested. No matter the intimate words they had shared on the phone a couple months ago before she lost service and spent two months in the jungle, enough time had apparently passed that he no longer felt that way.
“So what to do now?” she asked her reflection, standing with her hair in a towel and her bathrobe hanging over her naked body. She’d lost a lot of weight. “That appointment is this afternoon. You go or cancel.”
Her reflection stared back at her dumbly, not answering. She shifted her attention to the phone in the room and the phone book she’d put underneath it when she’d ordered delivery the other day. Maybe she was just more bullheaded than most, but this wasn’t enough closure. It could be that she was more of a masochist than she cared to admit. She needed to be yelled at in the face to get the truth to sink in. And there was only one way to make that happen.
Sitting on the edge of the bed with the phone book, she flipped through it, surprised but pleased that Megan Vetter, Perry’s sister, was listed in the book. Using her cell phone, while a small part of her insisted that seven thirty in the morning wasn’t the best time to call a household with children when they were probably all scurrying to get ready for school, Kylie dialed the number before she lost her nerve.
She had no idea where the powerful special agent, with nerves of steel, had disappeared. But she wasn’t
