Page 57 of Never Say Never

I didn't want to believe he could, but my stomach tightened once more, and I sighed. Shit. I had to keep going. I had to look. If Paul had something to do with the gang activity in New York, if he had even an iota of a tie to one of those detestable families, I needed to deal with him.

My finger rolled over the scroll wheel. The age seemed right, the fact that he was born in Jersey and had two loving parents that were now long deceased. He had no criminal record, not even a misdemeanor. Paul had grown up interested in arts and science before he became fascinated with technology. And fitness. It was as if he was trained from the time he was too young to understand that this was going to be his life. I knew that wasn't the case, but his files were so straightforward, it was all I could think. However, there was nothing else there. Even the fact that he spoke Italian in high school was etched right there in black and white. Paul was innocent.

Right?

"Hey, boss! How's the arm?"

I jumped as Paul's voice broke into my thoughts. While I scrolled, I had been daydreaming about our time together, the late nights and early mornings all tangled up in each other's arms. I questioned myself. How could he be guilty when I had slept with him? I still remembered the way it felt to be held by him, to see him the moment I opened my eyes after surgery. My stomach did flip-flops once more, and I wanted to gag. Instead, I exited the database and glanced up at Paul.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, bluntly. "Pain as usual, but other than that, I'm all right."

"Good," he said as he let himself inside and crossed to my desk. Paul helped himself with sitting in the chair in front of me. "Hungry? I was about to run to the bodega for something quick. Want a chopped cheese?"

"No."

Paul's smirk faltered, before it came right back. "I guess that makes sense. Old men can't have that stuff too often, can they?"

I tried to chuckle along with him, but it came out as a puff of air. I couldn't muster more than that. The smile on Paul’s face fell away altogether. Our eyes connected. I wanted him to leave, to give me space to breathe while I tried to figure out if he was someone that the Vitales or Acetos knew. Or if he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"What?" Paul asked. "You don't miss me? You haven't texted me since I drove you home."

"I'm fine," I said, trying to choose my words carefully. "This thing isn't exactly comfortable and the meds they prescribed make me sleepy."

"Hmm. Yeah," Paul said. I heard the urgent tap-tapping of his foot beneath the desk. "Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?"

Oh, like the fact that I think you're a traitor? Or how I'm almost convinced you're a criminal? What exactly am I supposed to be okay with, Paul?

My skin bristled as he continued to stare. There was hurt in those blue eyes that tugged at my heartstrings. I could be right and Paul might be a traitor, but I had no evidence. As far as I knew, the story he told made sense. No one would believe he was a mole if there was no evidence to support that theory. I would just look like a rambling old fool that had lost his mind once he got shot. I shivered. If anyone thought I was slipping, they would have my job.

As I thought about that, my computer pinged. I quickly excused myself from Paul and tuned into the latest email. The higher ups, three to be exact, were waiting for reports from me. I quickly gave them the most generic info I could and turned back to find that Paul hadn't moved. He continued to stare, his mouth in a straight line. A shiver ran up my spine. He was almost intimidating. What was that expression?

"You're being weird," Paul pointed out.

"Again, meds," I said, evenly.

"Medication doesn't turn you into someone I've never seen before," he said, abruptly. "Not this quickly, at least. What's going on?"

I tried to clear my throat. "I've already said that I'm working, Paul. Please, get back to your desk."

The frown on his face deepened. "Okay, that's understandable," he said, shortly. "Should I still come over tonight or will you be busy then too? I thought we were going to watch movies with the girls. They've been texting me."

Of course they had.

As much as I loved my girls, they were independent, sure little things just like their mother. And they loved Paul. I'd told them that we could all sit down and watch a movie together the day I got home from the hospital, but I'd still been unsure even then with my head full of Paul saving me and touching me, and holding my girls. He had hugged them like they were his own, had cared for them. I'd been soft that day. However, as the anesthesia wore off, and I had time to sit with my thoughts, the doubts grew.

Who was that man Paul had been talking to? Why wouldn't he tell me? I had good reason for protecting Marianna, that much was clear. However, he had to know there was no way that I was a mole. I wanted these people to burn more than anyone else. And yet he wouldn't tell me anything. Not yet, he said.

"Sorry." I shrugged. "I need to rest. Even sitting here is a lot for me right now."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is. Well, I'm sorry I'll have to disappoint the girls," he said as he stood up. "Tell them I apologize and I'll make it up to them, okay?"

My heart flipped as he brought that up. Knowing Nyra and Navy, yes, they would be devastated. Neither of them knew how to handle rejection or loss well. I knew I was partly to blame for that, shielding them from the world after their mother's passing. But I couldn't help it. I just wanted them to be happy.

"Actually," I called as Paul reached the door. "Maybe you should come over tonight. They miss you."

He searched my face. "You sure, boss?"