“So are you going to tell me the real reason you’ve brought me here tonight?” Ally asked the moment they stepped off the elevator and started walking down the long hallway that led to Chef Marcel’s.
Carter kept his head straight ahead, and Ally’s jaw tightened. She was quickly learning that he didn’t like to look at her when he lied.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
She narrowed her eyes as she stared at him. Yeah, she hadn’t bought it back up in the hotel room, and she wasn’t buying it now.
Of course, she’d been too swept up by his compliments and proximity when they’d been upstairs to say anything. There was something about the way his warm caramel gaze fell over her, like he might want to skip dinner altogether and get right to dessert. And then there was the touch…oh Lord, his touch. Even now Ally could feel the tingles radiating out from where his fingers had caressed the back of her palm.
No wonder she’d lost the ability to speak.
But now that she’d had a few moments to take a breath and calm down, she could finally get around to calling him out.
“I’ve had plenty of dinners in jeans before,” she said.
“But tonight you don’t have to,” Carter said, tucking her closer to his side as they crossed through the open archway into the restaurant.
Ally opened her mouth to ask again, but closed it the moment she started to look around. Chef Marcel’s had to be the nicest restaurant she’d ever been in.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the carved paneled ceiling. Leather chairs and bar stools were tastefully arranged in the mood lit lounge. Just beyond the bar area she could see the dining room and its sophisticated modern, but not trendy, design. Walls of windows looked out across a panoramic view of the city.
Yeah, this was a hell of a lot nicer than scraping the last bits of cheese off the top of a cardboard pizza box.
Maybe she was digging a little deeper than she had to. It was just dinner after all. How much trouble could Carter really get into while seated in a crowded, upscale place like this?
He led her over to an empty pair of dark plush chairs tucked in a tight V in the corner closest to the dining room. A small table was nestled between them. Carter let go of her hand, allowing her to sit.
Ally swept her hand along the back of her skirt as she sat, making sure she kept her back as straight as possible. She’d never been so worried about wrinkling a dress in her life. She’d never worn anything this nice. And it wasn’t like the thing was hers. Not really.
She had the feeling that Carter would try to give it to her as a gift, but there was no way she could accept something so expensive. Once she took it off for the night, she’d be handing it right back to him.
Of course, how it ended up coming off of her was really anybody’s guess. She might not have believed his reasons for bringing her here tonight, but the hungry looks he’d been giving her, those had seemed real enough.
Either that or the man was a better liar than she was giving him credit for.
The waitress appeared a moment later.
“I’ll have an old fashioned,” Carter ordered, and then gestured toward Ally.
“And a soda water, please.”
The waitress nodded before turning and heading back to the backlit antique bar.
“A soda water?” The corners of Carter’s eyes lifted as he asked.
“One of us has to keep our head on straight.”
“Good thinking,” he said with a wink.
Ally resisted the urge to reach out and smack him. Instead, she looked down and smoothed out the wrinkles on her lap.
“You all right?” Carter asked.
“Yeah,” Ally said, looking up and giving him a tight smile.
“Really?” he pressed. “Because you seem a little uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little out of my element.”
Carter leaned in closer. “So let me get this straight. You’re totally fine sneaking into a black tie affair, but not to a restaurant where you have a legitimate reservation.”
Ally smiled despite herself. Sure, it sounded silly when he put it like that.
“I might feel a little better if you’d tell me what we’re really doing here,” she tried.
“Why can’t it be enough that I wanted to take you out to dinner?” he said, looking her in the eye. “You’re a beautiful woman, Ally.”
“Now, sure,” she said, rolling her eyes. “After a team of experts works on me for three hours. They could have done the same thing with a chimpanzee.”
“No, they couldn’t have,” Carter shook his head. “Chimps can’t pull off the heels.”
Ally laughed. “I stand corrected.”
“Besides, they absolutely refuse to laugh at my jokes,” he said, giving her a long look.
Ally tried to push her hair back over her ear out of instinct. Except it wasn’t there. It was all pulled back and piled high. There was nothing to hide her blush, and she was forced to meet his gaze.
“That sounds like the voice of experience,” she shot back.
He shrugged. “You do what you have to do in service to your country.”
Finally, a topic that wasn’t likely to make her blush. “How long were you in the Army?”
“Long enough,” he said.
“And what made you choose to go into Special Forces?”
He raised a brow. “Are you interviewing me?”
“Completely off the record, I promise.” Ally leaned in closer. Her thigh pressed against his knee. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, getting this cozy, but somehow it felt right.
The waitress came back and put their drinks down in front of them. Carter waited until she had turned away before answering.
“I didn’t choose. I was chosen,” he said.
Ally smiled. “Is that the diplomatic way of saying you were too badass for the regular rank and file?”
“Your words, not mine.” Carter picked up his drink, but his eyes never left Ally’s. “Both Mason and I were approached while at West Point. It seems our skills were better suited for unconventional warfare.”
Ally had no problem believing him. There was nothing conventional about Carter Macmillan.
“And the rest of your men?” she asked.
“They were similarly recruited from the Rangers for their unique talents. That’s how it usually happens.”
Carter shifted in his seat. It was a small move, almost innocent, but it pressed the side of his leg flush against hers, intensifying their contact.
“Ah,” Ally said and took a sip of her water. She was glad that she hadn’t ordered anything stronger. Her head was already swimming. The last thing she needed to do was throw alcohol into the mix.
“Ah, what?” he asked, looking genuinely intrigued.
“I can’t help but think that their unique talents is code for the scariest bunch of bastards that you’ll ever meet.”
“That’s unfair,” Carter said, shooting her a mock scowl. “I’ve met Bowie’s parents personally, and they were both wearing wedding rings.”
Ally glanced at the floor as she laughed, and when she looked up, his eyes were still on her.
Warmth built inside her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d connected with someone like this. Sure, she’d been on dates, even had a couple of relationships that had stretched into weeks, but Ally had never felt this comfortable with any of those men.
And it wasn’t just attraction—though Heaven knew, she was feeling plenty of that. She felt like she could be herself around him. That he didn’t want her to be anyone but herself. Carter had shown time and time again that he could meet her on her own terms, that he wasn’t intimidated by her or her ambitions, that he was strong enough to take her as she was. And while rock hard abs and a stubble-lined jaw could turn a girl’s head, those were the qualities that really turned a woman on.
“Thanks for making me laugh.” Ally reached out and laid her han
d on his knee. “I’m feeling a lot better.”
Carter glanced down at her hand. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, a soft ding sounded from his jacket pocket. Carter pulled out his phone and looked down at the screen.
For a second she thought she saw a moment of disappointment flash over his face, but it was gone before she could be certain. He tucked the device away. When he looked up, all traces of warmth were gone from his expression.
“It’s time,” he said, his voice all business.
Ally was taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Our reservation is right now?”
“Now.” He stood and put his hand out to her.
“Okay,” Ally said, taking it.
She tried not to read too much into Carter’s actions as he led her over to the maître d’.
“Mr. Ward. The table you requested is ready,” the man said before leading them over to a small table tucked into the furthest corner of the dining room.
It was an odd choice for a table, but Ally figured Carter must have wanted the seclusion. All the way back here they were shielded from half the patrons. They still had a magnificent view of the city.
Well, she did, at least. From her seat, Ally could see past the glistening lights of downtown all the way down to the Sacramento River. Carter’s angle wasn’t as nice. He was stuck looking at the office building that was kitty corner from them.
The maître d’ put down the menus then passed Carter a wine list, but he waved it off.
“Whatever you recommend will be just fine,” he said.
The maître d’ raised his brows but nodded. “Very good, sir.”
Ally turned to Carter as the man walked away. Her lips pulled together.
His attitude had changed instantly. It couldn’t have been because of something that she said. Could it? Or something that she’d done?
The hand on his knee.
Oh, God. Had she read the situation all wrong? Had she acted too forward? Too needy?
Heaven knew it wouldn’t have been the first time. She’d been through more than her fair share of awkward first dates, but it seemed like she and Carter were getting on well. Better than well.
He’d been leaning into her and winking. Winking. If that wasn’t flirting she didn’t know what was. How the hell could she be blamed for misreading that sign?
One of the staff came over and filled their water glasses. Ally thanked him when Carter couldn’t be bothered with looking away from the window.
She picked up her glass and took a sip.
Had she said something that had upset him? Even as her mind spun back through the conversation they’d just had, she seriously doubted it. Hell, she’d pantomimed choking him just this morning and he hadn’t even batted an eye. Carter Macmillan wasn’t exactly a delicate flower.
Maybe the best thing was to just plow right on through the awkwardness.
“So, tell me more about the guys on your team,” she said.
He didn’t look away from the window. “They’re…good guys.”
Ally put down the water glass as the wine arrived. The waiter poured and Carter pulled his attention away from outside just long enough to taste it.
“It’s fine,” he said.
For a second there, Ally thought she might have had him back, but then his eyes focused off in the distance again.
Ally tried the wine. Just a sip wouldn’t hurt.
Wow.
Fine was one hell of an understatement. That had to be the best glass of wine she’d ever tasted in her life. Wonderful would have been a better word. Amazing would have nailed it.
Ally looked over the rim of her glass at Carter. The candlelight played off his face. He didn’t look angry or upset. He was still every bit as handsome as he ever was. There was just something distant about him. Something wrong that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
They’d been so close just a moment ago. Not just physically, but there had been a connection between them, something that went beyond the playful banter that they’d shared before. Something far more real. She couldn’t have been imagining it.
But now he was more like the man she’d seen back in his office. The Captain. That’s what everyone had called him. There hadn’t been any jokes or smiles then, just business.
Well, he wasn’t her Captain.
She decided to try and get the charming man she’d been talking to a moment ago, back.
“How about Iceman?” she said, trying a playful smile. “Tell me about him.”
“Who?” Carter’s eyes never wavered from the window.
“Tall guy,” Ally reminded him. “Blonde hair, hard eyes, soul like a glacier.”
“Oh, Rhys,” he said. “He’s….”
Carter’s words trailed off.
“Let me guess,” Ally whispered to herself as she picked up her wine glass again. “A good guy?”
Screw playful. Maybe the direct approach was better. Ally put down her wine glass and straightened her shoulders.
“Carter, did I do something wrong?” she asked.
His eyes flickered away from the window for just a second. “What? Of course not. Why would you…”
And away he went again.
Ally decided not to wait for him this time.
“Because five minutes ago, I thought you and I were sharing a moment. A snuggled close together, candlelit, fancy restaurant moment and then—”
Carter lifted a hand to his far ear and pressed a finger against it. Ally’s brows pulled together.
What the hell?
He whispered something into his sleeve.
Oh, hell no. He couldn’t be. He wouldn’t.
Ally spun around in her seat, and looked out the window to where Carter was staring—really looked for the first time since being seated at this table.
There, across from the restaurant was Buck Fuller’s office. The one that they’d escaped from the night before. They’d been a block away from it the whole time.
Ally picked up her wine glass as all the pieces fell together in her mind. That was the real reason why they’d come back to downtown Sacramento. Why he’d chosen this hotel. Why she needed this dress. This restaurant. Hell, even this table. Everything had been meticulously thought out well in advance.
She was nothing more than a chess piece he was pushing around on the board.
Need to get her out of the way for a couple of hours, send her down to the spa. Need a date to not seem conspicuous in a restaurant, buy the poor pawn a fancy dress.
Ally downed the rest of her wine in a single gulp.
Once she was done with the glass, she folded her arms in front of the table. She told herself that she wasn't going to look behind her, that whatever she saw there would only make her angrier. But it was like an itch on her nose—the more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.
Ally craned her head behind her…and instantly wished that she hadn’t.
The blinds that covered the windows of Fuller’s offices were pulled all the way up, so that from their vantage point they could practically see through the whole second floor of the building…and the people moving around in it.
Two men—both with short hair, about the same height, one blonde, one with light brown hair. But the way that they moved gave them away. One stiff and efficient, the other loose and calm. Iceman and Mason.
She craned her head down at the street, and sure enough Bruiser in all his rowdy-looking glory was standing by the front door.
Nice.
Ally grabbed the bottle of wine and poured herself another glass. She was going to need it.
And Carter?
She glanced up at him, as he whispered into his cuff again.
Running point, of course. Where else would the Captain be?
Ally shook her head. What had she been thinking, to believe that even for a second that any of this had something to do with her? She should have known better. She really should have.
The waiter came ov
er, but Carter didn’t seem to notice.
“Are you ready?” the poor man asked, obviously trying his best to ignore the painfully awkward situation that was happening at their table. Ally wondered what he must be thinking. Probably that they’d had a fight. If only her problems could be that pedestrian.
Ally pursed her lips together. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu since they’d sat down.
Of course, neither had Carter, and that wasn’t stopping him from getting on with his plans. Well, if he saw no reason to stop, then neither should she. She’d come here to have a nice dinner, and, by God, that’s what she was going to do.
“I hear you have a nice filet mignon,” she said.
“Exceptionally fine, miss,” the waiter said. “It’s served with—”
“Sounds great,” she said, gathering up the menus and handing them over. “I’ll have that.”
The man lingered for a moment before turning his attention toward Carter. “And for the gentleman?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ally shot a glare Carter’s way. “He’ll have a salad.”
“Any particular kind of salad?”
“Preferably something with cold tentacles on it,” Ally said.
The waiter’s lips parted for a moment as his brows pulled together, but apparently whatever doubts he had, he decided to keep them to himself.
Smart man. At least there was one of them in this place.
“I will see what the chef can do,” he said.
Ally gave the waiter a wide smile as he walked away. She’d make sure that Carter left him a big tip, seeing as he barely even noticed that the man was there to start with.
She picked up her glass and took another swig of wine before checking out the window again.
There were other men on the floor now. Ones she didn’t recognize, wearing dark blue pants and shirts. The uniforms looked like standard security guard garb, but Ally wasn’t so sure. There was something about the confident way that they walked, the long strides, the minimal movements. They appeared to be on watch, checking into all the offices they walked past, but there was no easy banter between the two of them, no lazy lingering or leaning.
These weren’t regular security guards. These were Allied Dynamic mercenaries. Even from across the street, Ally could tell.
Her heart started to pound just looking at them. Was one of them the one that had tried to kill her at her parent’s house?
She downed another mouthful of wine.
Ally had to twist around in her seat to see Carter’s men in the office down at the end, doing something around the computers and phones. Whatever it was, they weren’t doing it fast enough. The security guards were moving steadily in their direction. They had less than a minute before they were found out.
The guys had to get out of there now.
Ally leaned toward the window, clutching her wine glass tighter.
“Fifty seconds,” she heard Carter whisper into his cuff.
She watched as Iceman—Rhys, that was his real name—looked up and shook his head. She wasn’t sure if he meant they wouldn’t be finished with their task by then, or that they didn’t have the time to make a clean escape, but either way the message wasn’t any good.
Ally glanced over at Carter. He didn’t have so much as a bead of sweat on his forehead.
“That means you’re up, Jake,” he said.
Ally shifted her focus to down on the street where Bruiser, who was dressed in baggy jeans and a tattered grey hoodie, started to raise a fuss. Pounding on the door, kicking at the bushes, his mouth wide and screaming. She had to admit that Bruiser wasn’t a bad actor. He looked like every security guard’s rowdy drunk nightmare.
She might not have heard the commotion Jake was causing from across the street, but Fuller’s security detail sure did. They paused in the office next to the one Rhys and Mason were in. They went to the window and looked down at the street. One of the men pulled a radio off his belt and spoke into it. A second later, both men turned and headed out the door. Ally let out a loud exhale as the two hired guns started hustling back toward the elevators and away from Rhys and Mason.
The moment the coast was clear, Mason lifted his head and gave them the thumbs up. He and Rhys didn’t waste any time disappearing out the back way.
Ally turned back around in her seat. It took her a moment for her heart to stop hammering in her chest and for her to loosen her grip on her wine glass. Her hand was still shaking a little but she managed not to spill a drop as she put it on the tabletop.
She sucked in one steadying breath, and then another, before looking up. She found Carter gazing at her, the warmth back in his eyes.
He picked up his wine glass and took a sip. “So, where were we?”
Oh, hells no.
“You have to be kidding me,” Ally said, when she recovered from the shock. “What the hell was that?”
“A simple recon mission,” he said, cocking a brow. “Why, what did it look like?”
What? Did this guy have a charm switch that he could turn on and off at will?
Ally leaned forward. She dropped her voice down to a harsh whisper. “You lied to me.”
Carter bit into his lower lip as he slowly shook his head. If Ally didn’t know better she would have sworn that he almost looked hurt. As if he had any right to be.
“No, I didn’t,” he said.
“You lied about everything. Why we’re still in Sacramento. Why we’re staying at this hotel. Why we’re here for dinner. Everything.”
“That’s not true.” Hard determination shone in his eyes as he leaned forward. “I never lied. I just didn’t explain everything to you. There’s a difference.”
Ally’s lip curled up in frustration. “Like hell there is.” She picked up her napkin and crumpled it in her hand, twisting it tighter and tighter.
“This part of the mission was delicate, Ally. You didn’t need to know.”
“Dear God, do you even hear yourself? Mission. Need to know.” She tossed down the napkin. “This isn’t the damned Special Forces, Carter. This is my life, and I am not one of your little soldiers.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Trust me, I know.”
“I’m not your pawn either,” she said. Maybe it was the wine, but she figured that it was best to get all of this out there now. While she still had the courage burning hot in her blood. Because when it cooled, she had the feeling the depth of his glower was going to go right back to scaring the shit out of her.
His brows pulled together. “My pawn? I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. Today you got rid of me because I was inconvenient. Then tonight you dressed me up in doll clothes because you needed a cover. And trust me, I get everything that you’ve done so far, but I haven’t gotten a chance to agree with any of it. So, I’m going to make myself perfectly clear.”
Ally picked up her wine glass and took one last slug. One more taste of courage. She could practically feel Carter’s eyes burning into her as she drained the glass dry.
“There will be no more need to know for the rest of this mission of yours. No more secrets. No more keeping things from me for my own good,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “We are either partners in this, or we are nothing.”
For a moment, Carter didn’t say a word. He just kept his eyes on her. A tick worked in his hard jawline. It took everything Ally had just to stay steady in her chair and meet his gaze.
Finally, he folded his hands and propped them up on the table. “It’s not an arrangement that I’m used to.”
“Well, join the club,” Ally said, with a dark laugh. “Because let me tell you, between the gunshots and the running for my life, the past couple days have been a master class in being outside my comfort zone.”
The corners of Carter’s mouth quirked up for a fraction of a second. “And you’ve done great.”
“So do we have a deal?” she asked, feeling hopeful for the first time since she sat down at the table.
“Can we stop acting like angry fourth-graders and treat each other like adults?”
The corners of his eyes tilted up. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“Oh no,” Ally said, shaking her head. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I know your style too well. I want an explicit answer. No wiggle room. No, I never said.”
“Yes,” Carter said without hesitation. “I agree to involve you in all the decision making that goes on in regards to bringing Fuller to justice from here on out. Is that explicit enough?”
“That ought to do it,” Ally said. She felt some of the weight melt away from her shoulders. See, he could be reasoned with. She hadn’t been completely wrong.
“Good,” he said, pulling his napkin down on his lap as the waiter walked toward them with their dinner plates in hand.
Oh, no. Ally felt some of the blood drain from her face.
“Your filet mignon, Miss.”
Steam rose from her bacon-wrapped steak. The sauce smelled divine and potatoes looked amazing. The plating was gorgeous. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal that looked and smelled this good.
The waiter put a bowl down in front of Carter.
“And your salad, sir.” The waiter’s voice faltered a little at the end. Ally couldn’t blame him.
“You can go,” she said to the poor man, before he felt obliged to ask if everything was all right. Obviously, she’d made the right choice, because he strode away without another peep.
Carter looked down at the bowl of crisp greens, Parmesan strips and small pink tentacles that radiated out from the center.
“What is this?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Ally’s face.
“Your dinner.”
He looked down at it for another long second, his brows furrowing. “And what was that you were just saying about not acting like petty fourth graders?”
Ally shrugged. “To be fair, I did order it before our agreement.” She tried not to laugh. “Do you want me to call the waiter back and get you something else?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, picking up his fork and plunging it into the mound of salad. He looked up at her with a smile. “I love calamari.”
Chapter Ten