He shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this. It’s my job to take the risks, not yours. If anything were to go wrong, I’d never forgive myself.”
“No, listen,” she said. “All I’ll really be doing is stalling for time. When you go to your desk in the other room, you’ll find your unfinished loan application in the front of the file drawer. As soon as you’ve finished and signed it, I’ll take it to the bank, or even drive you there to deliver it in person, if you want. Once it’s approved—”
“If it’s approved.”
“Once it’s approved, you’ll have the cash you need. The Edgeway people will have no reason to be involved.”
“True,” Burke said. “But even with the loan, we won’t be out of the woods. It’s a lot of money. If we can’t pay it back, we could still lose everything.”
“What are you saying? That we should just sit back and let Garrett hand the American Heartland over to the Mob?”
“Lord, no! I’m betting everything I own on this project. I just want you to be aware of the risk.”
Allison shook her head. “I’m aware of the risk, and I’m with you a hundred percent. But somebody needs to keep an eye on Garrett. If I’m working with him, I can do that.”
He still looked skeptical, but Allison sensed that she’d gotten through to him. “Maybe,” he said. “But what about Brianna? She thinks Garrett’s her friend. We’d have to keep her out of this.”
“You’re right. She has to be protected.” Allison had almost forgotten about Brianna’s liking for Garrett. “I’ll talk to her. I think I can warn her away.”
“You’ll have to. I won’t accept any plan that puts her at risk.”
“I know. Neither will I.” She rose, meaning to leave before he began to have second thoughts. But as she turned away, his hand caught her wrist. With surprising strength, he whipped her back around to face him, pulling her down until their faces were inches apart. His eyes blazed with an angry desperation. For the space of a breath, she imagined he might kiss her. But then he spoke.
“Don’t do this, Allison. Garrett’s fallen in with some dangerous people. They could be capable of anything. I’m asking you for the last time.”
Allison knew a calm answer would be best; but the hurt of the past days and weeks rose inside her. Words emerged like barbs, aimed to wound. “Why should you care whether it’s dangerous? You’ve been wanting to get rid of me ever since the accident. Maybe you’ll succeed this time. Now let me go.”
He released her, his expression rigid, as if she’d slapped his face. She backed away a step. Then, without giving him time to speak, she turned and stalked out the door, closing it behind her with a click.
* * *
As her footsteps crossed the hall and mounted the stairs, her words echoed in Burke’s ears. Was that what she really thought, that he was out to get rid of her? How could she believe that? All he wanted—all he’d ever wanted—was to protect her from harm when he couldn’t keep her safe, and from need when he could no longer keep her in comfort. Why couldn’t she understand that?
Pushing through the pain, he used the chair arms to lever himself to his feet. Without the walker or cane, each step was a study in balance, but he made it to the door, out into the hall, and to the foot of the stairs. Here he stopped, one hand resting on the banister.
Overhead, he could hear Allison’s quick, sharp footsteps heading down the hall to the bedroom—their bedroom where, night after night, they’d made soul-searing love until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Last night, too restless to sleep, he’d gotten out of bed and stood in this very spot, thinking of Allison alone in the bed that was no longer his. He imagined her lying with her long legs tangled in her silk nightgown, her honey-gold hair spread on the pillow, her mouth soft in sleep.
The yearning to stride up those stairs and take her where she lay had roused an ache so deep that he’d groaned out loud with it. But the stairs were beyond his limits, and would be for weeks to come.
With a muttered curse, he turned away from the stairs and walked down the hall to his study. Given what their relationship had become, odds were he might never make love to his wife again—even though he now knew it was physically possible.
The thought of not having her was like dying.
Squaring his jaw, he forced himself to think of other things. Allison had said the loan application was in his desk. If he could finish it today, they could take it to the bank tomorrow—after her work, whenever the hell that would be.
Why had he given in and let her take that damned job? But he knew why. If he hadn’t, there would’ve been all-out war between them. Now he was worried about her—worried sick. Garrett was nothing but a fool. But if she ran afoul of the Mob, her life could be in danger.
His back was throbbing, but he’d vowed to get off the painkillers today. At least he could control that. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he walked into his study, closed the door, and prepared to bury himself in his work.
* * *
Allison had left her cell phone on the nightstand. It was ringing as she walked in the door. She rushed to answer it, stumbling on the rug in her haste. Maybe it was Brianna. Maybe she’d gotten the newspaper job she was interviewing for.
But the caller wasn’t Brianna. It was Garrett. The sound of his voice tightened her frayed nerves.
“Hi, Allison. Just wondering if you were planning to come in tomorrow.”