20. Grayson

Grayson

M aggie looks wobbly on her feet. It's nearing two a.m., and I can't remember the last time I felt this tired—not since college.

Ah, college. Stale beer and running on fumes that smelled like pure tequila. I smile at the memory. Only two years in, I grabbed my degree in accounting and never looked back. School wasn't really my thing. Besides, I had a job waiting. College seemed entirely unnecessary. Once I got partied out and met Suze, I left it in the past.

We'd been flown off the island on a giant helicopter. It was, in a word, amazing. Based on how thrilled Maggie was during the ride, I think she would have made one hell of an MP. Even I have to admit that being inside a machine soaring over the open ocean with the sun setting behind us was beautiful, with just the right amount of danger. I wonder if Maggie's ever been on a helicopter before. Maybe I could get her another ride. I wouldn't mind doing a tour with her or something.

But those are dangerous thoughts. I let myself get carried away yesterday. Both in the car and on the base. None of it should have happened. Right now, I should be focused on getting my son back. That means leaving distractions like Maggie far away.

She giggles in her sleep-addled state. "You okay?" I ask, feeling her lean against me as she yawns and nods. Words seem hard for her right now.

"Helicopter," she mumbles, and I can't help but chuckle.

"Yes, Maggie. We went on a helicopter. You looked like you loved it."

"Mmhmm," she says with another yawn. We did get a lead from Axe—no name, because that would be too easy, and the gangs have to make everything as hard as possible. But he did have a description. A woman. One his gang often sold drugs to, who supplied the first half of the payment, $25,000, to coax them to ‘take me out.' The other half will come to whomever manages to kill me. Odd to be on this side of their wrath. But I can't think of that right now. That's Maggie's turf. Tomorrow, she'll turn her notes into a profile and run it through their system of CIs and known criminals. All that's on my mind right now is sleep. Maybe for the next two whole days.

"Maggie?" I say, breaking through her sleepy thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You want me to drive you to your sister's dorm?"

She shakes her head and grabs onto my arm. I think it's half to keep from falling over and half because she likes touching me. We're waiting for an Uber outside the gate to the Coronado Naval Air Station, where we'd flown in. Axe was carted off to the San Diego Police for felony trespassing. Lars, Axe's brother, is being detained for forging supply records and helping a convict on base. The brothers are in a heap of trouble. Not surprising, since they're both gang-affiliated. The military doesn't take kindly to that sort of thing.

"You can't head back to LA; it's the middle of the night," I say.

"That's why I'm staying with you," she says, smiling up at me.

"Maggie," I start but shake my head. Having her in my home is a bad idea. But I suppose since it's late, and I can always sleep on the couch, I shouldn't fight her too much. "You know what? Fine. I'm too tired to argue."

Our Uber pulls up, and I open the door for her. Once inside, the driver doesn't say a word, just drives. Maggie snuggles up next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. I wrap an arm around her, mostly because she'll fall over if I don't.

A half-hour later, I slip my arms under her knees and pull her out. "I can walk," she says without much conviction. I laugh lightly, the rumble vibrating through her. She keeps her eyes closed as I carry her to the elevator and then to my apartment.

I set her down in my bed and tuck the covers around her. She looks beautiful against my dark sheets, her red, somewhat dirty hair spread over my pillow. Oranges. The scent of that delicious fruit, which seems to linger around her, will be on the bed long after she's gone. I already know it will drive me crazy. When she smiles as she sinks into the soft blankets, I have the urge to climb in next to her. Just one night, I try to convince myself. But it wouldn't be enough. A thousand nights wouldn't be enough. Better not to know how she feels in my arms than to try for a single night together. "Night, Maggie," I say softly, and kiss her forehead.

"Night, Mr. Cardenas," she mumbles, already drifting off to sleep. With every ounce of restraint I have, I walk to the couch, content to know that at least I'll get to smell her on my sheets tomorrow.