Rules in Deceit

by Nichole Severn

  “Agreed.” Silence settled between them. It wasn’t an empty silence. It was full of anger, of something else Elizabeth didn’t want to identify. “You’re pushing me out of the investigation by trying to keep me behind a computer. Why?”

  “You know why.” Veins fought to burst from beneath his skin. He’d have an embolism if he didn’t take a breath. Her guard softened at the concern etched into his features.

  “I’m pregnant, Braxton. Not an invalid. I protect my clients, whether it’s from behind a desk or strapped in Kevlar, and I’m damn good at my job.” Elizabeth shook her head, a disbelieving laugh escaping from between her lips. She tried to swallow around her dry throat. “Just because you’re the father of this baby, doesn’t give you the right to dictate how I live my...”

  Dizziness muddled her vision. She reached out to balance herself, fisting her hand in his T-shirt. She pulled him into her, knees weak. “Whew. If I pass out, don’t let it fool you. I’m still going to win this argument when I wake up.”

  “Liz?” Concern sharpened his voice.

  She fought to steady her heart rate. A dull ringing filled her ears as he wrapped his arms around her and led her to the edge of the bed. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her, and she breathed in as much as she could to clear her head. Didn’t work. She closed her eyes as the back of her knees hit the mattress. “This conversation is not over.”

  “Tell me what the hell is happening, or I’m taking you to the hospital right now,” he said.

  “My blood sugar is low.” She’d had it under control the last few days. But running for her life must’ve forced her body to use up her last meal sooner than she’d expected. She opened her eyes, still clinging to the valleys and ridges of muscle carved into his chest. Nope. Couldn’t think about that right now. Food. She needed food. “The baby makes me hypoglycemic. As soon as I eat, I’ll be fine.”

  “Here.” Braxton unraveled her fingers from his shirt but refused to let go of her hand completely as he reached for the bowl on the nightstand. Which actually helped anchor her. Steam still escaped from the glossy red ceramic, and the scent of something spicy and warm filled her as she breathed it in. “This should help.”

  “What is it?” she said.

  “Turkey and vegetable soup.” He wiped his palms down his jeans. The mattress dipped with his added weight beside her, and she struggled not to lean into him with everything she had. “The protein should bring your glucose back up in a few minutes. I made more if you need it.”

  “You made this?” Elizabeth heaved a spoonful into her mouth. Vegetables perfectly cooked, ground turkey flavored with spices. No. Not possible. The Braxton she’d known had survived on a diet of cheap cafeteria food and fast food restaurants. Although, studying the lean muscle across his torso, the new bulges in his arms and thighs, he’d obviously made some changes. Living off junk food didn’t carve muscle like that. Her mouth watered for more than the soup in that moment, and she fought to concentrate on not dumping the entire bowl in her lap. The pounding of her heart behind her ears faded. “And look at that, not a gummy worm in sight.”

  Resting his elbows on his knees, he laughed. “Nope. The only sweets you’re going to find in this apartment are chocolate ice cream and rainbow-colored sprinkles.”

  Elizabeth froze, another spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth. “I still can’t believe you remember my favorites.”

  “How could I forget?” His green-gray gaze, grayer now, centered on her. A smile thinned his mouth, and her grip on the bowl weakened. Damn that smile. Damn the soup. Damn the fact he’d saved her life—twice—in the past three hours. “You kept a pint of ice cream in the freezer at the office and a container of rainbow sprinkles hidden in your desk.” Braxton straightened. “I still remember the look on one of the other analysts’ face when you screamed at him for five minutes for ignoring the ‘do not touch’ sign on your ice cream. Bad day for that guy.”

  “Yeah, well, not all women are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Some are made of ice cream, rainbow sprinkles and a whole lot of swear words.” Elizabeth took another bite, talking around a mouthful of soup, then pointed at him with her spoon. “He was an analyst. He was trained to read between the lines, but he flat out ignored my note. He deserved it. Don’t touch my ice cream.”

  Braxton raised his hands in surrender. “I won’t. Not after that.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Then caught herself. The man in front of her had done something far worse than ignore a note taped to her ice cream in the office freezer. For the past four months, he’d been the epitome of an uncaring, coldhearted, manipulative jerk who’d taken her to bed then run. But now Braxton refused to fit inside the box she’d created for him in her mind. Elizabeth cleared her throat, more to free her head of his clean scent than anything else, and motioned to him with the empty bowl. “Thanks for the soup. I’m feeling better.”

  “Anything for you.” The sincerity in his voice, the way his hand brushed over her knee closest to him, spiked her flight instinct. Taking the bowl from her, he stood and headed for the door. She couldn’t stop the flood of warmth rushing through her. And not just from the soup.

  No, no, no. She’d been down this road before. She’d trusted him, relied on him when she’d needed someone the most. He’d been the man who would’ve done anything to protect her, the man who’d had her back when the NSA sought to destroy her career after Oversight’s first real-world test run. But the man in front of her wasn’t him. Maybe never had been. And falling for him had left her pregnant and alone.

  Wouldn’t happen again.

  Braxton stopped short of the hallway, as though the weight of her attention cemented his feet in place. His dark hair brushed across his shoulder blades as he rested his head back. “You haven’t asked me why I left.”

  The warmth drained from her system. No. She hadn’t.

  He turned. The scar cut through his eyebrow shifted as he centered his attention on her. The world threatened to pull out from under her feet when he looked at her like that, like she was the only woman in the world for him.

  She glanced over the surveillance photos she’d dropped onto the floor—a dozen Elizabeths staring up at her—but didn’t really see the details. “I’ve spent countless hours obsessing over that question, determined to find out the answer, imagining the moment you’d come back into my life. To be clear, none of it involved a bomb under a conference room table or being shot at in the parking garage.”

  Locking her attention on Braxton, she tightened her grip on the edge of the mattress. Did he realize how much he’d hurt her? How many nights she’d cried over him leaving? Probably not. Stay in control. Survive the investigation. Move on with her life. That was all she had to do. Elizabeth notched her chin parallel with the floor. “But after finding out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, I decided in the end, I don’t care.”

  All that mattered was that he had, and that he would leave again.

  That was the deal.

  “I’m sorry. I never meant...” The corners of his mouth turned down, those brilliant eyes filled with...guilt? Braxton shifted his weight between his feet, knuckles white around the bowl in his hand. “I never meant for any of this.”

  “Fortunately for you, you’re not responsible for the man trying to kill me or we’d be having a very different conversation.” It was nearly ten at night now. Exhaustion pulled at her muscles, but Elizabeth shoved to her feet. No dizziness. No ringing in her ears. His soup had done its job, and she was about to make sure this baby didn’t lower her blood sugar for a few more hours. “Now, take me to the ice cream.”

  * * *

  LIZ WAS WRONG. He was responsible. He’d left her unprotected.

  Lavender filled his lungs as she maneuvered past him toward the kitchen. His heart rate kicked up a notch. Even after all this time, she affected him in ways he couldn’t explain, in ways n
o other woman had. Only her. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “Which begs the question, why have it on hand at all?” Liz turned toward him, cocking her head to one side as she shifted her weight against the opposite counter. Still reading between the lines. Back facing the wide expanse of windows and the mesmerizing view, she crossed her arms beneath her chest. Clouds clung to the peaks of the Chugach mountain range, rain hitting the glass in rhythmic intervals, but he only had attention for her. “Unless you knew I’d come back here with you.”

  There’d been no other option when he’d discovered Oversight’s feeds had been hijacked to hunt her down. Not for him. He didn’t trust anyone but himself to keep her safe. Braxton wrenched open the freezer door and excavated her favorite brand of chocolate ice cream. “I’m damn good at my job, too.”

  “True,” she said.

  “I’m almost afraid you would go with anyone who offered you ice cream and sprinkles, though.” He grabbed a bowl and a spoon then scooped two huge servings of ice cream and handed it to her. Holding up one finger, he spun the spice turntable around, pulled rainbow-colored sprinkles from the first tier and offered it to her. “Almost forgot the secret ingredient.”

  Her fingertips overlapped his for a moment, and something resembling an electric shock shot up his arm. A rush of color climbed up her neck, and he fought the urge to close the small bit of distance between them in the tight galley kitchen. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.

  “You seem to forget the more I weigh, the harder I am to kidnap, so ice cream is essentially saving my life in the long run.” Liz dumped an unhealthy amount sprinkles onto her ice cream.

  “Good point.” A laugh reverberated through him. Although he’d kill anyone who tried. Nobody came after her and survived. The pregnancy only made his protective side stronger. “But I only have enough for the next couple of days, so take it easy.”

  “If you think we’re going to be here for a couple days, I’ll eat it all tonight, and you won’t be able to stop me.” Liz spooned a heavy bite into her mouth. She closed her eyes, a moan working up her throat. His gut tightened at the sound, all too eager to bring up memories of their one night together. The stress that’d been etched into her features since the moment she’d set sight on him in that damn conference room melted with one spoonful of her favorite dessert.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Anything to make her happy. Even if that included going back into hiding after the investigation ended. His gaze shifted to her lower abdominals, where their daughter barely made herself known in the soft curve there. Even if it meant never meeting his daughter. He would leave to protect them, to make them happy.

  Liz opened her eyes, the chocolate brown surrounding her pupils darker than a few minutes ago. The effect raised the hairs on the back of his neck, his entire body on high alert. Because of her. Her rough exhale skimmed across his neck in the small space. “I never thanked you.”

  “What for?” The edge of the granite countertop cut into his backside, keeping him in the moment. Rain pounded against the windows, a ripple of thunder shaking the framed photos on the walls. He flexed his fingers into the center of his palms. Reminded him of far too many unprotected nights as a kid under that damn fake rock wall in the park when the shelter was full, something he hadn’t thought about in years. Until he’d uncovered Liz’s new name and address. Of all the places she could’ve run, she’d chosen Anchorage. To get away from him.

  “I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. We wouldn’t be standing here.” Liz slid her hand over her belly then set her ice cream, only half eaten, on the counter. The sound of stainless steel on ceramic grated in his ears but didn’t distract him enough to take his eyes off her. Nothing could. “You saved our lives.”

  “Which time are you referring to? The bomb, the shootout in the garage or with the bowl of ice cream?” He notched his chin toward her and crossed his boots at the ankles. “I’m losing count.”

  “All three. Maybe more for the explosion and the shooter than the food, but it certainly helped me from going into hypoglycemic shock.” Her brilliant smile rocketed his heart rate into dangerous territory before it disappeared. Gripping the edge of the counter on either side of her waist, Liz locked her gravity-inducing gaze on his, and he felt a pull. “Maybe we can come at this a different way. Forget about the Sovereign Army as a whole for a minute. The shooter in the garage was alone. It was a single-man assault. Looking for one shooter in the group would narrow down our suspect list.” She picked up her spoon and bit down against the steel. “Only problem is, if he is a member, I doubt anyone in the Sovereign Army would roll on him.”

  They’d already been through this.

  “I swore I’d keep you alive.” Braxton closed the distance between them, her sharp inhale audible as he reached around her for the discarded bowl. Turning his head slightly, he leveled his attention on her right shoulder. Smooth, flawless skin stood out against the black lace of her cap sleeve, and he wanted nothing more than to taste her again, to see if his memory of her was as good as the real thing. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “And I will do anything to keep that promise.”

  “Protection is not the same thing as controlling someone’s life.” She swiped her tongue across her lips, pulling his attention to her mouth and the small purple sprinkle stuck to her bottom lip. “If I was meant to be controlled, I would’ve come with a remote.”

  “People don’t wake up wanting to be victims.” His voice came out too rough, too deep. “They don’t ask for bad things to happen. They don’t ask for pain they have to live with for the rest of their lives. Every day things destroy someone’s life. Attacks like today happen. It doesn’t matter how strong they are—anyone can get hurt, but I sure as hell won’t let it be you and our baby. Understand?”

  Sliding one hand along his face, Liz stared at him. Her mouth parted as though the words were on the tip of her tongue. “Braxton—”

  His name on her lips was all it took. In one swift move, he threaded his fingers at the nape of her neck and set his forehead against hers. She tried to escape, but the counter kept her caged against him. Damn, he’d missed her. Missed her scent, the way she fit against him perfectly, her sarcasm, the feel of her skin. Electricity lightninged through him as he slid his body in line with hers, her front pressed against him, her hands reaching for his at the back of her neck. Her fingernails bit into the backs of his hands. Hell, no. His memory hadn’t done her justice. She breathed against him, her mouth mere centimeters from his. Dropping his hands to her hips, he lifted her onto the counter and centered himself between her thighs. Her fingers fisted in his hair, locking him against her. Right where he needed to be.

  What had he been thinking, leaving her behind? He could’ve told her the truth. Could’ve asked her to come with him. He moved his fingers back up to her hair, where her erratic pulse beat against the palm of his hand. He did that to her. He changed her breathing patterns. He expanded her pupils so only a thin ring of brown remained. Braxton swallowed hard. Damn it, no. It wouldn’t have been fair to expect her to pick up her life and disappear off the radar. Her life was at risk because of him. Because he’d gotten involved with her in the first place. And there was no telling how far that shooter would go to get to her again. Ten minutes ago, nothing would’ve stopped him from closing that short distance to her mouth, but he couldn’t now. He wouldn’t put her in danger again.

  Spearmint and lavender exploded across his senses, and he reached between them, swiping his thumb across her lip. The sprinkle fell to the kitchen floor, out of sight. He forced himself to cool things down. “You had a purple sprinkle stuck to your mouth.”

  Liz planted a hand against his chest, his heart fighting for freedom to reach her, and pushed him back. She cleared her throat, the pink in her cheeks and down her neck fading. “It’s getting late. I’ve had a hell of a day. I’m g
oing to go to bed. We can talk about our next step after we’ve both gotten some rest.”

  His backside hit the opposite counter. He’d never been more thankful for the granite than in that moment as cold tunneled through his clothing. He nodded and swiped a hand down his face. Lightning streaked through the front windows as the rest of the world came back into focus. “Yeah. Good idea.”

  She slipped off the counter. Her gaze glittered at him. “Good night, Braxton.”

  “Good night.” Braxton gripped the edge of the counter hard as she headed into the guest bedroom and closed the door behind her. The lock clicked into place, and he nodded as he stared at the tile. Hell, what was he trying to prove? That he still wanted her? No question about it—he’d never stopped wanting her. Never would. But if he’d learned anything over the last four months, it’d been that emotional ties could and would be used against him. Didn’t matter what precautions he took or how long he stayed under the radar. Two attempts on her life in the span of an hour was enough for him. There wouldn’t be a third.

  Chapter Five

  She was supposed to be smarter than this. Stronger.

  Muted sunlight filtered around the edges of the thick blackout curtains. They had work to do, but Elizabeth didn’t move from the bed. The instant she left this room, reality would set in. Braxton, the shooter, the fact she would most definitely be raising this baby on her own in a few short months. A few more minutes of ignorance. That was all she needed.

  Hiking her forearm over her face, she fought to purge the heated moments between her and Braxton from her memory, but her efforts were in vain. The raw desire in his gaze had burned straight through her, marked her. And damn it, she’d almost given in to him. Almost wanted him to kiss her, to make her forget about the fact she’d become a target. A low groan ripped from her throat as she threw the blankets off and hauled herself to her feet. Ice worked through her veins as she padded barefoot across the cold hardwood floor, hand over her lower abdominals. “We’re in trouble, baby girl. And I have no idea how to get us out of it.”