Tackle (K19 Security Solutions) Read online

  “If I had to guess, I’d say Pakistan. Is he on your watch list?”

  “I monitor cells in the northeast region. His name comes up every now and then.”

  “I haven’t been briefed on the details of how everything played out, but I’m sure you watched it unfold the same as I did.”

  She nodded. “Columbia may be stable for now, but I wouldn’t predict it will last long.” Sloane picked up the shrimp and took a few bites. “Gotta tell you, I’m happy I work for DHS.”

  “Me too.”

  She studied me. “Why?”

  “You think you worry about Halo and me? I can’t imagine how bad we’d be if you’d gone into international intelligence.”

  “It isn’t like my assignments are danger-free, Tackle. I am a criminal investigator.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” I ran my hand over my hair, which was due for a buzz cut.

  “Don’t be a hypocrite.”

  I reached over and put my other hand on hers. “I can’t help it, Sloane, any more than you can flip a switch on worrying about me, your brother, or even your dad.”

  As if on cue, my cell phone vibrated. While sometimes I could turn it off, I didn’t like to do so very often in case it was someone from K19, my parents, or now, Halo, since he was on assignment. Instead, I blocked Nick’s number, knowing I’d done as much as I could for her given the circumstances.

  “Answer it or leave,” said Sloane, getting up from the table.

  “That’s kind of harsh.”

  She leaned up against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. “My borrowed apartment, my rules.”

  I dug the phone out, not thrilled when I saw it was a number I didn’t recognize. Hiding something or not, I never answered those.

  “Sloane—”

  “You heard me, Tackle.”

  I hit the accept button. “Sorenson.”

  “Tackle, finally, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” Nick sounded out of breath but was talking loudly enough that there was no way Sloane hadn’t heard every word she said.

  “I need to call you back.”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up. I can’t stay here. You need to come and get me.”

  “I’ll call you back, Nick.”

  “Time to say good night,” said Sloane, cleaning up the remnants of our dinner.

  “There was a reason I told Nick I needed to call her back, and it isn’t because I don’t want you to hear what I have to say.”

  “Or her?”

  “Can we sit?”

  “Whatever you need to say—” Sloane clapped her hand over her mouth and raced off in the direction of the bathroom. Not knowing what else to do, I followed and stood outside the door when she slammed it closed. I leaned up against the wall and waited. I moved a couple of feet away when I heard the water running in the sink. Seconds later, she came out, wiping her hands on a towel.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to bed.” When I followed again, Sloane stopped at the room’s doorway. “Tackle, you need to leave.”

  I reached out and felt her forehead. “No fever.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “I’m worried about you, Sloane. You’ve been sick since Christmas.”

  “I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled.”

  “When?”

  She glared at me, put one hand on her hip, and pointed toward the door with the other.

  “I’ll sleep on the sofa, but I’m not leaving.”

  “I want to be left alone.”

  I rested my arm on the doorjamb. “I can always call Mama Clarkson.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I pulled out my phone.

  “What about your other phone call? You promised Nick you’d call her back.”

  “That can wait.”

  “Of course it can. Just leave, Tackle. Leave. I’m not kidding.”

  “Right.” I dropped my arm, put it behind her knees, and swept her up. I took two steps into the room and gently rested her on the bed. “I’m not going anywhere, but I will leave you alone. As I said, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” I brushed her hair from her forehead and softened the tone in my voice.

  13

  Sloane

  “Just let me…”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Tackle’s. “Just let you, what?”

  “Stay. Worry about you. Be here if you need anything.”

  I should stand my ground; the truth was, I didn’t have the energy to. I’d asked him—told him—to leave, and he continued to refuse. Telling him again now wouldn’t be any different. He’d still stay.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, I can stay?”

  “As if you wouldn’t, no matter what I said.”

  He smiled. “Let’s get you tucked in.” He pulled the covers back on one side of the bed and told me to roll over before doing the same on the other side.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  “Good night, then.” He turned to leave the room.

  “Tackle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You could stay. I mean, here, in the bedroom.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t sleep better without me in bed beside you?”

  I smiled. “I think I can resist the temptation.”

  He smiled too and winked. “I’m not sure I can, but I’ll do my best.”

  When he undressed and got in bed next to me, I looked into his mesmerizing green eyes. The features of his face were as perfect as the body he worked so hard to maintain. My eyes trailed down to his bare chest, and I squeezed my thighs together.

  It didn’t matter that I’d just lost the contents of my stomach; I wanted Tackle to remove his boxer briefs, the only thing he’d left on, and feel him inside me.

  “You keep looking at me that way, and there’s no way I’ll be able to resist the temptation.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slowly opened them. “I told you I’d leave you alone so you could rest.”

  “There’s something I want more than sleep.”

  Tackle studied me but didn’t move a muscle.

  “Unless you don’t want to.”

  When he raised the sheet, I saw that he did, in fact, want to very much. I reached out and grasped his cock when he lowered his briefs. He hissed a breath in.

  “You have no idea how many times I imagined this.”

  “Did you, really?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he groaned.

  “What else did you imagine?”

  “How it would feel to have your mouth on me.”

  I scooted my body down the bed, rested one hand on his hip, and swirled my tongue on the tip of his cock. Tackle wove his fingers in my hair.

  “Open, drop your hands, and hold still.” His hands were on both sides of my face. He slowly eased farther into my mouth. “Deeper, Sloane. Relax your throat.” When I gagged, he pulled out of my mouth and moved his hands from my head. “Jesus, I’m sorry. You were just sick.”

  He rolled out of bed and grabbed his clothes.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Into the other room.”

  When I woke the next morning and went out to the kitchen, it was clean, but Tackle was gone. I told myself it was for the best; I’d been trying to get him to leave anyway. Neither thought made the ache of missing him hurt less.

  I called my mom and asked if there was anything she wanted me to pick up for her on my way home. I hurriedly jotted down the grocery list she rattled off.

  “I thought you were coming yesterday, mija.”

  I told her I’d ended up running errands in the city, and by the time I got back to the apartment, I was too tired to make the drive.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I made a doctor’s appointment, but if you want me to wait to find out if whatever I have is contagious, I can stay here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Come
home, Sloane. If you don’t feel like stopping at the market, your father can go.”

  I laughed, thinking about the number of times my dad would have to call my mom when he couldn’t find whatever she wanted. “I can do it.”

  I packed up my clothes, also known as laundry, grabbed my computer, and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Just that, made me think about Tackle and how I wished he hadn’t left.

  “So stupid,” I mumbled and shook my head as I loaded my stuff into the backseat of my car. I’d lost count of how many times I repeated those words in my head at the grocery store and out loud as I drove to my parents’ house.

  When I came to the Newton town line, I thought about driving by Tackle’s house, but what if he saw me? How embarrassing would that be?

  Instead, I stepped on the gas, hoping to catch the stoplight before it turned red. There were two reasons I wanted to. The first was that it always felt like a ten-minute wait before it changed to green again. The second was that the grill was on the right side of the intersection. I tried not to look, but when the light changed and I was stuck there, I couldn’t stop myself. I thought about how I’d picked up Tackle and my brother there on Christmas night.

  I was about to turn away when I saw Tackle’s car pull in and park next to the only other one in the lot. The car behind me honked as I watched him get out and greet the woman who had gotten out of the car next to him.

  I drove away but could still see in the rearview mirror when he embraced the woman my brother had referred to as Nick.

  “What’s wrong, mija?” my mother asked when I slammed one of the bags of groceries down on the kitchen counter.

  “Nothing.”

  She raised a brow.

  “You know how much I hate traffic.”

  “There was traffic on a Sunday?”

  Actually, there hadn’t been. In fact, I was one of the only cars on the road. Except for Tackle and his girlfriend. I growled at the reminder and then realized my mother was studying me.

  “You are acting very strange.”

  I shrugged. “I am strange, Mom.” I put my arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Are you just figuring that out?”

  “Sit and talk to me,” she said, pointing to the table. I spent the rest of the afternoon with her in the kitchen while she cooked and insisted on doing my laundry for me.

  “You aren’t going back into the city tonight,” she said, not phrasing it as a question.

  I hadn’t planned on it, so I didn’t argue.

  She, my father, and I were just finishing dinner when my mother got up and looked out the window.

  “What?” I asked when her brow furrowed.

  “Tackle is here.”

  While my father got up and answered the door, I went in the opposite direction and ran up the back stairs to my bedroom. “Bathroom,” I shouted behind me when my mother asked where I was going.

  To stop myself from listening to hear if he asked for me, or worse, giving in to the urge to go downstairs and confront him, I ran a bath, undressed, and climbed in before I could change my mind.

  I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard a knock at the bathroom door. “Sloane?” my mother called out when I didn’t answer.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, Mom.”

  “So strange,” I heard her mutter as she walked away.

  The next morning, my father and I drove into the city together since he had meetings all day at the State Department field office, located in the same building as DHS.

  “Seems you have a lot on your mind, peanut.”

  As with everything else that could be remotely linked to my brother’s best friend, his use of the nickname Knox had given me and Tackle had taken up using regularly made my heart ache all over again. Not that it had ever really stopped.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, looking out the passenger-side window.

  “Work related?”

  “Have you heard anything about Abdul Ghafor? I mean, anything you can tell me?”

  “Funny you should ask. Tackle is coming in for a meeting today on the same subject.”

  I spun my head and gaped. “Are you serious? Why?”

  “Probably for the same reason you asked about him.”

  “I was curious. That’s different than having a meeting.”

  “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Dad.”

  He glanced over at me. “It’s at thirteen hundred hours if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks,” I repeated.

  “You’re welcome,” he said again, not realizing what I’d offered my appreciation for was that I now knew exactly at what time I’d be heading out for lunch.

  “Hey.”

  I groaned when I heard Tackle’s voice just as I was about to get into my car. “What?” I said without turning around to look at him. I jerked away when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Sloane. Look at me.”

  Instead, I got in the car. He grabbed the door before I could close it.

  “Leave me alone, Tackle,” I snapped.

  “Hot and cold much?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re accusing me of running hot and cold? That’s rich.”

  “Yeah, I am. One minute, you’re sucking my cock, and the next, you’re blocking my calls again.”

  “You’re such an asshole. Let go of the door.”

  “No. I want some answers. Are you seriously pissed because I left Sunday morning?”

  “Not at all. I was glad you were gone.”

  “Is it because I was gentleman enough to get out of bed when I knew you didn’t feel well?”

  “Here’s the deal, Sorenson. I’m not pissed. In fact, I couldn’t care less if I ever see or talk to you again.”

  “I don’t believe that shit for a hot minute.”

  “Again, I don’t care.” I pulled my phone out. “Either let go, or I’ll call security.”

  He took a step back. “We’re not finished,” I heard him say before I slammed the door.

  “Oh yes, we are,” I responded, not caring whether he could hear me or not. I put the car in gear and pulled out of the space. This time when I looked in the rearview mirror, instead of seeing him hugging another woman, I saw a very angry man.

  14

  Tackle

  If there were a playbook for how not to handle things with Sloane, I was following all the don’ts to the letter.

  First, I’d left Sunday morning without waking her to tell her or even leaving a note. Why? Because I figured it would be easier than lying to her when she asked where I was going.

  Then I stopped by her parents’ house and when her mother said that it sounded as though Sloane had started to run a bath, came up with the lame excuse that I wanted to have a meeting with her father about Abdul Ghafor. Now, here I was, with no real reason for wanting to meet, after having managed to piss Sloane off even more.

  This was why I didn’t do relationships. Trying to spend time with someone on a regular basis was more damn trouble than it was worth. And Sloane? God, I couldn’t keep up with her mood swings. I probably shouldn’t have said the thing about her sucking my cock, but it was true. One second, she wanted me, the next, she didn’t.

  If this were any other woman, she would never hear from me again. Literally. But this was Sloane, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay away. Even now, in the back of my mind, I was trying to come up with another way to get her to talk to me.

  And then there was Nick. If only Sloane wanted me the way Nick did, the tables sure would turn. I’d be sick of her in a hot minute.

  The only reason I’d agreed to meet with the other woman in person was to get her off my ass and convince her to leave me out of her fucked-up life. Instead of achieving either of those things,
I seemed to have made Nick more determined than ever to spend every moment she could with me.

  Kind of like I was being with Sloane. Jeez. Was it the same? Was I as annoying?

  Whereas five minutes ago I was pissed, now I felt like a complete jackass. I walked over to the elevator, hoping that by the time I met with Mr. Clarkson, I would be able to get his daughter out of my head long enough to invent a reason for requesting the meeting in the first place.

  When I walked into the conference room where the meeting was scheduled, I was surprised to find the only person there was Sloane’s father.

  “Are we expecting anyone else?” I asked after we’d made small talk for several minutes.

  Mr. Clarkson shook his head. “I do understand you wanted to discuss Ghafor, but I have other things I’d like to talk over with you.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Tackle, I consider you part of our family…”

  Jesus, was he about to say something about Sloane? Had she gone to him for help getting me to leave her alone? If so, I could see my relationship with the entire Clarkson family ending here and now.

  He cleared his throat. “I want you to know you can come to me anytime. If you need a sounding board to help you figure out whether you’re ready to go back to work with K19, I’d be happy to lend an ear.”

  “I appreciate that, sir.”

  “I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course,” I repeated.

  “If I had it to go back and do over, I’d change a lot of things about my life.”

  “You would?”

  He nodded. “I’m not sure I’d even work for the State Department.”

  “No?”

  “If I did, I would insist on a job that allowed me to stay home more. It was very hard on Carolina and the kids with me gone most of the time. My wife begged me to dissuade Knox from working for the agency, but I felt I had to respect the decisions he made for his own life.”

  “Have you told him what you’re telling me now?”

  “I did, right before he left. I sense, though, that you and he may be at very different places in your lives.”