Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,126

mouth, too. For a moment she thought . . .

She hoped . . .

But when he yanked his gaze up, all she saw was shock. He was . . . appalled, and her pounding heart seemed to freeze in her chest.

His hands fell from her arms as if she’d burned him, and he took a huge step back, so huge that he nearly tripped up the stairs. He shook his head hard, saying nothing. But his rejection couldn’t be clearer.

“Well,” she said, wondering if he could hear her frozen heart shattering into tiny pieces. “I’m glad we had this chat. I’ll be going now.” She had her hand on the doorknob when he finally spoke.

“Liza, wait.”

She paused but didn’t look back. She could hear that he still stood by the stairs. He hadn’t moved an inch after that colossal retreat. “What, Tom?” she snapped.

“You can’t apply for that job.”

Not wanting to argue, she simply shook her head and opened the door, but the knob was ripped from her hand, the door slamming shut. Tom’s hand lay flat against the door, his big body close enough that she could feel his heat.

“Pastor is there,” he hissed, his breath hot on her neck. “DJ will be there. If he sees you, he will kill you.”

“It is a risk,” she allowed, because to deny it would be foolhardy. To deny that her heart beat faster at the thought would be a lie. But she wasn’t afraid, not enough to quit before she tried.

If she could meet Pastor, talk to him . . . maybe she could get him to talk about Eden. Maybe even tell her where it was. Especially if he was hurt or in detox, which she assumed he was, because he was in a rehab center. People said things when they were in pain, things they might not otherwise say. And if he didn’t tell her directly, maybe she could overhear something useful.

She only knew that she needed to try. “But a risk I’m willing to take,” she added.

“It is a certainty.” He didn’t shout, not really. But his voice was so loud that she recoiled involuntarily. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, far more quietly. “I didn’t mean to yell again, but, Liza, this is madness. We had someone on the inside—one of Sunnyside’s nurses who’d agreed to work with us. She planted bugs in Pastor’s room. But DJ caught her.”

Liza’s heart raced faster. “What happened to her?”

“He dragged her out of the facility, drove her a few miles, lost our surveillance van.” There was a sudden pressure at the base of her neck, a few inches above her new tattoo. Tom’s forehead. He was leaning on her. “Then he pulled her out of her own car,” he whispered, “onto the back lot of a grocery store and shot her in the head. Twice. My boss wanted to storm the place and arrest the bastard, but I convinced him to wait. To use this time to get intel. To find Eden. So we recruited the nurse and she’s dead. I have to live with that, but I couldn’t live if you got hurt. So I forbid this.”

Liza swallowed, wanting to assure him that she’d forget about Sunnyside, that she’d stay safe for him. But this was bigger than either of them. So many innocent lives lay in the balance. And she’d risked her life before, every time she’d entered a battle zone. She could and would do it again for Mercy and Abigail. They deserved to live without fear.

“I’m sorry for the nurse who was killed. I really am. But I’m qualified and I’m careful. I won’t take stupid risks. If I even get the job.”

The pressure on her back disappeared as his hands gripped her upper arms again, spinning her to face him. “Goddammit, Liza,” he cursed from behind clenched teeth. His eyes were wild. Afraid. And still angry.

At least he no longer seemed appalled at the thought of kissing her. A small balm.

She looked up into his face, the need to soothe outweighing the urge to run. She loved him. She always had. And even though he didn’t feel the same way, simply seeing him like this, so helpless and afraid, was devastating. She needed to fix him. Heal him.

So she cupped his face in her hands, her chest hurting when he shuddered into her touch. “I survived three deployments. I was a combat medic. I’ve been shot at. I shot back, and I’m still here. I can