Scott glanced over his shoulder as Valerie entered the room, happy for the distraction from his leg. “Dan left a few minutes ago. He’s still in the honeymoon phase of his marriage, so I kicked him out.”
Valerie was breathtaking with her dark-gold hair hanging straight past her shoulders, wearing a red top and candy-cane-striped lounge pants. The color had returned to her cheeks, but her back was stiff and her fists were clenched, and Scott realized how Tara’s sudden appearance must have looked.
Steele’s business manager extraordinaire stood and cradled a small bundle of bloody gauze and wrappers, wrinkling her nose as she gestured with it. “I should have brought a bio bag.” She noticed Valerie and smiled. “Dan said you did a good job fixing him up,” she nodded toward Scott, “but the wound needed a few stitches. Luckily the man travels with a fully stocked medical kit. You feeling better?” she asked, striding into the kitchen on soft-soled sneakers.
Valerie caught his eye and her face flushed. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and relaxed her hands. “So much.” Looking at Tara, she smiled. “You thought of everything. I can’t thank you enough.”
Tara peeled latex gloves from her hands and dumped them with the other waste into the trash can. “No problem.” She shrugged. “This is what I do.”
It was true. Tara made sure the guys had whatever they needed to get the job done, often anticipating their needs before they did. And she somehow did it while looking like she’d just stepped out of a photo shoot. He’d never seen her in anything but a dress and heels, hair perfect. She looked different tonight, still beautiful, but more approachable in a sweatshirt and yoga pants with her hair pulled into a messy pile on top of her head. And yet, he only cared that Valerie was in the room.
Beautiful in her own way—in every way, as far as he was concerned—she was the one he wanted. The one who drew his attention no matter where she was. Her presence in the apartment was undeniable, even when she was in a different room. He was starting to crave having her nearby.
That was going to fuck him up in the end.
“I made more coffee,” Tara said. “Scott knows how to work the alarm and the WiFi, and there’s food in the cupboards and fridge.” She snagged a light-blue purse from the counter and retrieved her car keys. “Do you need anything else right now?”
Valerie shook her head. “No, this is wonderful.”
Scott rose from his chair, tugging down the fabric of his zipped-off pants to cover his thigh. He’d gone from hiding his scars from everyone for the last two years, to revealing them to three people in one day. How was that for ripping off the figurative Band-Aid? “I have the burner phone,” he said. “I’ll call if we need anything.”
Tara hugged Valerie. “Get some rest.”
Valerie laughed nervously, giving Scott an uncomfortable look.
On her way out, Tara repeated the gesture with Scott and whispered, “Good luck.”
He locked the door behind her and set the alarm.
Alone with Valerie.
He turned to face her and she frowned. “So, stitches. How’s your leg?”
“Dan gave me a local, so it feels pretty good right now.” He hobbled toward the kitchen holding the detached bottom of his pants leg. “This is nothing compared to last time.”
She nodded and bit her lip, turning away to pour a cup of coffee. “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Me either.” She sighed, holding the mug with both hands, rubbing her thumb over the handle.
As he passed, she reached out to stop him, but was too far away to touch. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For convincing you to trust Alan.” She stared into her drink. “For putting you in danger.”
“It’s not your fault. You had every reason to trust him.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, her drooping shoulders and downcast gaze the picture of defeat. First her boss, then Jay, now Alan. Without Scott and Steele, she had nobody left on her side.
He wanted badly to hold her, but he was damp and cold and sticky so he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He couldn’t take a shower without ruining his new bandage, but he could get the job done with soap and a washcloth. He’d made do with less.
He was done in ten minutes, dressed in boxers and a plain gray T-shirt. He didn’t want to mess with the pajama pants if he was going to take them off again in a few minutes. The apartment was plenty warm. Every room but the master bedroom was dark, and he found Valerie sitting on the bed, legs under the covers, computer on her lap. A small furrow divided her brows and she scowled at the screen.
“Sorry to bother you. I just need to get blankets and a pillow for the couch,” he said in a low voice.
“Don’t.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, you don’t have to.” With a snap, she closed her laptop and set it on the nightstand before meeting his gaze. “We could share the bed.” At his hesitation, she produced a weak smile and said, “I promise not to bite.” Her wide, wary eyes belied her playful words.
“No biting?” His heart thumped as he adopted a mock frown. “In that case, I’m outta here.”
One side of her pretty mouth curled up but quickly dropped. She bit her lip and ran her fingers over the embroidery on the comforter. “I don’t have any…expectations,” she said. “But I’d rather not sleep alone.”
Oorah. He swallowed hard. “Okay. You good there on the left?”
She nodded and scooted closer to the edge of the bed as he approached, her gaze fixed on his face, as if she were actively trying not to look at his scars. Repressing a sigh, he slipped beneath the covers and leaned against the wooden headboard, leaving several inches between them on the firm mattress.
A long breath escaped Valerie’s lips and she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. “It feels weird to stop running, even if just for a few hours. Mostly good, but strange.”
Unable to resist, Scott took her hand and intertwined their fingers. Her hand was small and cool, her touch magnetic.
“Now that we’re here, I can’t figure out how to relax,” she said. “I’m exhausted beyond belief and simultaneously wired. I keep expecting one of Hollowell’s men to break down the door and…” A tremor ran through her.
“Hey,” he said, moving closer and releasing her hand to put his arm around her instead. “We’re safe here. Dan has a top-notch alarm system and only three other people know where we are.” He caressed her shoulder with his thumb. “I trust all of them with my life.”
“I trusted Alan with mine. And yours.”
“If it makes you feel better, we can leave. Go somewhere no one knows about.”
She shook her head. “Thank you for offering.” She reached up and squeezed his hand. “That means a lot, but I don’t think we’ll find a better set-up than this. I trust your friends more than some hotel desk clerk or whatever.”
Relief rode a wave through his veins. He would leave if she asked, but he had no idea where they’d go at this hour.
She shifted slightly, snuggling into his side. His stomach dipped at the contact, and he had to force himself not to lean closer for a kiss. Despite their embrace, her shoulders were still rigid and she chewed on her thumbnail.
“I feel like I should be doing more to help get us out of this.”
He pointed to her laptop. “What’d you find?”
“Nothing yet.” She rubbed her face. “I can’t get access to Duncan’s key files. He must store them off the network or on another computer. I sent bait to several people in the IT department, but they’re well trained. And it’ll be hours before anyone else checks their email.”
“Now that we’re in D.C., we need to come up with a plan of attack,” he said, toying with a strand of her hair. He missed her natural color. “But not tonight.”
“Message received,” she said, looking at him, her amber brown eyes g
lowing almost gold in the lamplight. “We need to rest.”
“Exactly.” Their noses were only a few inches apart, and the need to kiss her started a war between his brain and his body. “We both know how to push through, but we’ve been running on fumes for days now. If we’re going to bring down Hollowell, we’ll need every advantage.”
She nodded and licked her lips, her gaze flicking to his mouth and then back to his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.
Fuck it.
He leaned in to kiss her.
She leaned away. “Wait.”
What the hell? He stared at her, watching the blush creep up her neck and across her face.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” she said.
“Right.” She’d seen his scars, and that changed everything. He rubbed his left hip and noticed a slight twinge of pain returning to his thigh. Heat suffused his face—what a moron he’d been, thinking she would welcome his kisses now—and he rolled away from her to turn off the lamp on his side of the bed.
“Scott.” Her hand landed on his arm.
He flinched but didn’t pull away. “What?” he asked, sounding more pissed off than he intended, watching her in his peripheral vision. She didn’t deserve attitude.
She crawled away from the headboard and sat cross-legged near his knees, facing him. With a deep breath, she said, “I have a scar too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Falls Church, VA
Wednesday, 5:30 a.m.
Valerie’s heart slammed against her rib cage, beating out a warning. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Scott’s expression changed from stony implacability to soft-jawed surprise in response to her confession. “From what?” he asked, his mouth turning down as he straightened and looked at her with those bright blue eyes.
She swallowed hard. The flash of a blade, fire-hot agony, blood dripping between her fingers. Her dad gasping for breath.
“Hey,” Scott said, pulling her back to the present. “Forget about it. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No. I want to.” She squared her shoulders and shoved the painful images back into the vault in her mind where they belonged. Fingering the bandage on her arm where she’d cut it at the gas station, she said, “I tried to stop the man who murdered my dad and…he cut me.”
There. It was out, and she’d managed to sound almost normal, even as bile rose in her throat. Would she ever be able to look back on that day without having a visceral reaction?
Scott clenched his fists and muttered, “Mother fucker,” under his breath.
She twined her fingers, dreading what came next. For several moments, the only sound was the rain pattering on the roof and wind slapping the screen against the window.
“So you’re a protector too,” he said, his words stopping her from lifting her shirt.
Her world tilted at his unexpected response. “What do you mean? I was too slow to react, and he killed him,” Valerie said, forcefully. “I failed.”
Scott gave a wry laugh. “Taking action is what counts. You called me a protector, but do you have any idea how many times my dad hit my mom before I finally stopped him?” His voice rose and darkened with self-contempt. “Do you know how many times I wanted to step in front of him but did nothing? And when I did finally grow a pair, I might as well have been a gnat fighting an elephant. Until I got my hands on his gun, I was worthless.”
Valerie’s heart hurt, even as his words began to heal something within her. Why was it so easy to have compassion for others but not ourselves? “You’re right.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose.
“Not about being worthless,” she added quickly. “About intentions. We both wanted to protect someone. My dad died anyway, but I did my best.” Believing that in the depth of her soul would take some more time, but she could feel the shift inside her as a physical thing, and despite their current circumstances, her body lightened. “And you eventually found a way, though I wish the boy you were had another choice.”
“Me too.” Scott’s gaze roved the bedcovers for several moments, unseeing. “My mom was relieved, but I think she was scared of me after that. After all, if I could kill a man, was I any better than Richard ‘The Dick’ Kramer? My sister hasn’t spoken to me since.”
No wonder he expected her to be frightened by him. The two women he cared about most had rejected him for taking the action that had saved them. For doing what came naturally to him. Not killing, as he thought, but defending others. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” He clasped both hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
“You don’t scare me,” she said softly.
He dropped his hands and met her gaze, his eyes smoldering like blue fire, but he made no move toward her. She’d put him off before, and she’d let the conversation veer away from her ugly wound, happy for the change of topic. Except now they were back where they’d started. She craved his touch, but he hadn’t yet seen her scar, and she was unwilling to spring it on him in the heat of the moment.
Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she removed her shirt and tossed it to the floor.
His breath left him in a rush as his gaze skipped over her naked breasts and snapped to the puckered line that slashed across her ribs from just beneath her right breast to her left pelvic bone. “Jesus,” he whispered.
She gripped her thighs to keep from covering herself with her arms or the comforter. “It’s ugly.”
Reaching out with a wince as he jostled his leg, he skimmed his fingers lightly over her ruined skin. “It’s a fucking badge of bravery.” His voice was full of awe and anguish. “I only wish you’d never had to earn it.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. For fourteen years, she’d regarded her scar as the mark of her dad’s killer, a way for him to continue to intrude on her life. And more importantly, a mark of her failure. “I’ve never thought of it that way,” she said, beginning to see everything in a new light through Scott’s eyes. He never registered revulsion. Anger on her behalf, maybe. Or sorrow. But not disgust. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his gaze flickering to her breasts and back to her face as she slid off the bed and stood next to him. He licked his lips and watched her, not bothering to hide his desire.
Heat shimmied through her and made her stomach tingle. “I showed you mine…”
He hesitated long enough that she thought she’d miscalculated. Then he said, “You just wanna get me naked.”
She gave him a coy look, “Maybe.”
His answering smile lit his gorgeous face, and her heart stuttered. He let his gaze roam over her body, cranking up her inner furnace as surely as if he’d touched her. “I don’t think I’m ready to bare all,” he said, leaning against the headboard ever so casually and putting his hands behind his head in a way that showcased his ripped biceps. “Not without some incentive.”
“Oh, yeah? How’s this for incentive?” She shucked her pants and underwear and carefully straddled his lap.
Scott’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sight of Valerie naked. She was so fucking beautiful, scar and all. Except he wanted to hunt down and kill the bastard who’d hurt her—both physically and emotionally—so badly.
But now, right now was for getting his hands on all of her smooth skin and her fabulous curves.
She straddled him and he almost lost it. Mind. Blown.
“Christ, you’re hot,” he said, combing his hands into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss he’d been waiting hours to take.
Her lips were soft and warm and willing, and he plied her with soft brushes and nibbles and licks until she opened for him. He fell deeper under her magic with every sweep of her sweet tongue and stroke of her hands over his chest. She tasted like mint and joy and redemption and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to tear off his boxers and bury himself so deep inside her that he forgot his name.
With a quick nip at his lips, she withdrew, putting enough
space between them to look at him. Her gold-flecked brown eyes shone with mischief and heat and need. “You’re not holding up your end of the bargain.”
He spread his palms over her generous breasts, kneading their delicious softness and caressing the dark pink nipples with his palms. When her gaze turned slightly out of focus, he said, “I got distracted.”
“Hmmpf.”
Chuckling, he leaned forward and suckled her gently. She gasped and closed her eyes. He sucked harder and lightly scraped her rigid flesh with his teeth. She moaned and dropped her head back, grinding her pelvis onto his impossibly hard erection.
Holy shit, she was incredible. As much as he wanted her—right fucking now—he could no longer imagine the quick and dirty fuck he’d craved just minutes earlier. She wasn’t some meaningless lay, and he didn’t want to rush.
Her breath came faster as he continued to fondle and nuzzle and kiss her. “Take off your shirt,” she demanded.
“You do it.”
She tugged his T until he had to part from her to get his head and arms free, nearly ripping the seams in the process. God love her enthusiasm.
He dove toward her, impatient to bury his face in her soft bosom, but she pushed him away. “Let me ogle,” she said, narrowing her eyes in mock anger.
Scott couldn’t hold back a laugh. Who knew she’d be playful in bed? He freaking loved her like this.
His smile faltered. Don’t get attached.
But how could he not? The way she looked at him… Jesus. His heart fluttered like a wounded bird.
Growing up, he’d been short and scrawny. The Dick had called him a pencil neck, a bag of bones, a twig he could snap with his bare hands… The girls at school had thought he was “cute,” like their little brothers. Fucking demoralizing for a horny teenager. Scott couldn’t change his height—which at five-nine was statistically about average, but felt short nonetheless, especially at Steele where the other guys were built more like Dan—but he had hit the gym hard in juvie and packed on as much muscle as his body type would allow while in the Marines.
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