Janelle Denison: Forbidden

He gave her question a moment’s consideration. “I think you’d have a better understanding of the situation if I started from the beginning.”

“Please do.” She was beyond caring that she sounded haughty and demanding; she desperately wanted this awful turn of events to make some kind of sense.

Josh stood and went to the fireplace, a restless energy surrounding him. He tossed more logs on the grate and a burst of sparks filtered up the chimney. Taking the poker, he repositioned the wood, giving the chore more attention than it warranted.

“Josh, make me understand,” she pleaded.

Rubbing at the rigid muscles at the base of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at her. The deep frown creasing his brows gave her the distinct impression he wanted to be anywhere but here, briefing her on the facts surrounding Anthony’s death.

“Anthony went undercover on this particular case to infiltrate a jewel-smuggling ring that has been trafficking rare and exotic gems into the Keys,” he explained, his voice low and threaded with an odd reluctance. “Anthony’s main objective was to get as close to the mob boss as possible. Our hope was that he’d be trusted enough to become a runner, someone they would involve in the actual smuggling. We needed that so we could bust the bad guys in the actual act of importing the jewels, which would give us enough evidence to prosecute.”

Paige pushed her thick fall of hair away from her face with a slightly shaking hand. What Josh described was exactly the kind of classified work she imagined Anthony did, full of risk and a dangerous, deadly kind of thrill.

She had a sudden understanding of how ignorance could be bliss.

“The man heading the organization, Victor Carranza, was very elusive, and Anthony had a difficult time establishing a relationship with him.” Josh jabbed the logs one last time before setting the brass poker back in its stand. Then he turned around and faced her. “There’s a woman who works for Carranza. Her name is Bridget, and she’s one of his runners. Since Anthony had little luck with Carranza himself, he switched tactics and decided to focus his attention on Bridget. It didn’t take Anthony long to get close to her. Within a couple of weeks, Anthony knew most of Carranza’s contacts.”

He started toward her, his gaze troubled, yet bright with determination. Sitting on the cushion next to her, he gently grabbed her hand, holding it within his palm. Though his fingers were warm, a startling chill thinned her blood.

“Paige…” He cut himself off, a muscle in his lean jaw flexing. “Christ, there’s no easy way to say this.”

A peculiar combination of anticipation and unease tripped up her pulse. “Say what, Josh?”

Regret softened his features, and he stroked his fingers along her hand. The display of solace only served to unnerve her.

He let out a slow breath, his mouth thinning in displeasure. “From what we’ve learned, Anthony was having an affair with her-”

Snatching her hand from his grasp, she bolted off the couch and crossed the room. Standing by the fireplace, her back to Josh, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her middle, doing her best to hold herself together. She hadn’t bargained for the more sordid details of Anthony’s undercover assignment, never would have guessed Josh would be the one to force her to deal with issues she’d deliberately tried to ignore.

So, Anthony had been having an affair. Josh’s announcement shouldn’t have surprised her, or hurt as much as it did. She’d had her suspicions before Anthony died. They hadn’t made love in months, and he hadn’t so much as kissed her or touched her beyond necessary contact. She’d chalked up his remoteness to stress on the job, until she’d discovered three foil packets in the inside pocket of his leather bomber jacket. What did he need condoms for when he’d insisted she go on the Pill? When she’d confronted him with the evidence, he’d laughed and told her the guys at the station must have played a joke on him and planted the prophylactics.

Knowing he’d deny any wrongdoing, she found it difficult to argue with his convenient excuse. Ultimately, she hadn’t believed him.

Since his death, she had made more discoveries, and had found irrefutable evidence of his infidelity: creditcard purchases for women’s lingerie, jewelry and other feminine frivolities she’d never received, charges for elegant hotel suites she’d never enjoyed with her husband, and expensive dinners at five-star restaurants she’d never been to.

Now one of the women he’d cavorted with had a name. The sense of betrayal twisting through her was excruciating.

The weight of Josh’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she flinched at his touch. She’d been so lost in her own unsettling thoughts she hadn’t realized he’d come up behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Paige,” he said, his voice contrite, but fueled by an underlying purpose. “The woman Anthony was having an affair with-”

Abruptly, she jerked away, whirled around to face him, and held up a hand to waylay his words. “I don’t want to hear this!”

He braced his hands on his hips and glowered at her, all previous signs of gentleness and understanding gone. The firelight painted his skin a warm gold hue, made his dark, silky hair gleam, giving him the appearance of a merciless, fierce warrior. “You don’t have a choice.” His tone was succinct and brooked no compromise.

“What Anthony did, and with whom, is now a moot point,” she snapped, her emotions frayed. “He’s dead!”

“What Anthony did was steal a valuable diamond-and-emerald necklace!” he shot back, his tone just as loud and angry.

She gasped in shock and reeled back. Denial came just as swiftly. “You’re wrong!” Her voice cracked, right along with a chunk of her composure. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe what he was saying. “Goddammit, Josh, you’re wrong!”

“I wish to hell I was, Paige.” He stepped toward her, and when she backed up out of his reach, he swore. “Anthony stole the Ivanov necklace from a collection of jewels that was smuggled in from Russia. The diamonds and emeralds in that necklace are reportedly worth over a million dollars, and Anthony stole it from the woman he was having an affair with before she could hand the collection over to Carranza. They knew the piece was missing, but it took Carranza a few weeks to track down who’d taken it. All traces led back to Anthony.”

Tears burned the back of her throat and stung her eyes. She choked on a sob she couldn’t hold back. “You’re lying!” Her accusation lacked conviction, but she wanted so badly for this moment in time to be nothing more than a nightmare, a trick of her imagination.

But Josh had never lied to her before.

“The investigation has been concluded and the facts confirmed by the men still working undercover on the case,” Josh ruthlessly went on. “The woman set him up for that explosion in the boat. Carranza found out he’d taken the Ivanov necklace, and when he denied it, they killed him. They had no idea he was a cop-”

Unable to listen to any more, incapable of understanding her husband’s multiple deceptions, she let out a deep, guttural cry that was ripped from the depths of her soul. “Nooo!” She came at Josh, fists flailing, striking out at him for every one of her husband’s indiscretions, his betrayal, his disloyalty. “No, no, no!” All at once her blows landed on his chest, his arms, his shoulder. A crack resounded as her fist unexpectedly connected with his jaw.

“Dammit,” he bit out, and caught her wrists, the strength of his grasp easily restraining her.

She stopped thrashing, tilted her head back and looked into Josh’s eyes. They were filled with the same haunting emotions that gripped her. She realized that Anthony’s actions had hurt him, too.