Her Forbidden Hero

by Laura Kaye

  Marco faced her and rested a shoulder against the locker. “It doesn’t take much, does it? To make you happy.” He reached out, as if to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, but pulled back. “It never did.”

  At the almost touch, Alyssa’s pulse raced until she felt a little lightheaded. She nearly whimpered from the desire to feel the gentle sweep of his flesh against hers and willed him to break through the sad, troubled expression on his face and touch her. Everything in her wanted to close the distance between them, push up on tiptoes, and prove that the reality of kissing Marco was miles better than years of imagining it.

  “So, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Good day?”

  “Um, yeah. Definitely.” She struggled to breathe normally. How could just the idea of him touching her drive her crazy? She busied herself with grabbing her purse and closing her locker. “Here.” She held out the lock. “I can get my own.”

  “Keep it.” He chucked some papers into his locker and pushed it shut. “It was an extra. Walk you out?”

  “Sure.”

  Marco guided her out of the lounge. “So, where are you staying?”

  “I’ve got a room.”

  He frowned. “What? A hotel?”

  Alyssa waved to some of the kitchen staff, who called good night as they passed. “Van’s a funny guy, don’t you think?”

  Marco’s frown deepened. “Hmm, yeah. Funny,” he said in a tone that didn’t sound like he agreed at all.

  A ball of sadness took root in her stomach. Why did he seem so hesitant and uncomfortable around her? She glanced up as they approached an exterior door and stopped abruptly. “Oh, wait. I parked out front. I need to cut back through the restaurant. Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I can drive you around.”

  “No, that’s silly.”

  He stared at her a long moment, like he was waging some kind of internal debate, then smiled. “Maybe, but didn’t we used to say silly’s good every once in a while?”

  There he was, the Marco she knew. It was almost the old Marco smile that always made her protests melt away.

  And now her heart was melting, too. How many times had he acted silly—telling stupid knock-knock jokes, making weird faces, pulling pranks on Brady—solely to cheer her up after one of her father’s rages had sent them fleeing to his house? “Right,” she said.

  His voice came out gruff. “Seems like a million years ago.”

  Suddenly the moment felt bigger and more weighted than the simple words they’d exchanged. The urge to hug him surged through her. “Sometimes it does,” she whispered. “Sometimes it seems like yesterday.”

  Marco looked down the hall, his eyes going distant, as if he saw something beyond the painted concrete walls surrounding them. Something about his expression and the set of his big shoulders made him look like a man carrying the weight of the world on his back. Her breath caught as an inexplicable sadness descended over her, and her body was moving without a conscious decision to do so.

  She wrapped her arms around his back, buried her face against the hard muscle of his chest, and clenched her eyes shut, fighting off tears she couldn’t fully explain.

  His arms came around her slowly. “What’s this for, Aly-girl?”

  “Because I missed you.” She breathed in his masculine scent, all clean soap and warm citrus. God, what would it be like to burrow under his shirt and press her cheek, her lips to his skin? Dizziness threatened at the thought.

  “Me, too.” He patted her on the back.

  The kind of pat intended to end a hug.

  Letting go of him and her fantasy of where such a hug might lead, Alyssa stepped back. She smiled and met his gaze. Which was on fire. Blazing blue set against the olive tone of his skin. She blinked, and the expression was gone.

  Part of her thought she must’ve been dreaming, but another part said what she’d seen had been real. Shaking her head, she said, “Silly it is, then. Lead the way.”

  They exited to the staff parking lot, the night air still warm, and Marco pointed out the driveway that circled the building so she could park back there tomorrow. She scanned the lot, looking, looking. There!

  “You still have her!” She skipped in front of him and turned, almost jogging backward. “Are you ever going to let me drive her?”

  A hint of a smile on his face, he tossed his keys in the air. “You know the answer to that.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve got a perfectly clean driving record. No tickets. No accidents.”

  She turned and skipped up to the black ’67 Mustang Marco had inherited from his grandfather. She bent over and hugged the car, her hand and cheek on the still-heated glass of the windshield. How many good times had she and Brady and Marco had in this car? “Hi, Betty,” she cooed, using the pet name bestowed by his granddad. “How have you been, old girl?”

  Marco gave a weird choked cough and cleared his throat.

  “What?” She stepped back. “You weren’t the only one I missed.”

  “I see that.” He unlocked and opened her door. “And I approve. One of the reasons we’ve always been such good friends is because you get Betty.”

  She slipped into the seat. “How could you not get Betty?” Marco’s low chuckle made it to her ears as he closed her door. Marco’s grandfather had prided himself on maintaining it in pristine condition, which Marco clearly continued. And, oh, man, it smelled of rich leather just like she remembered. She loved that—how some places just had a scent, one that brought so many memories to mind.

  Marco settled into the driver’s seat and turned the key, bringing that lovely growling engine to life. He eased the car from the spot and crossed the lot to the driveway that ran along the side of Whiskey’s.

  Had he always looked so damn sexy behind the wheel of this car? She dragged a quick gaze over him, taking in the sweep of his lashes and angled jaw that stood out in profile, and then over the thick bunching of his shoulders to his long fingers wrapped around the wheel. And she knew the answer to that question. She’d just never thought to ask it until now.

  The drive to the front of the building took all of thirty seconds, of course, but Alyssa found herself glad for them nonetheless. He braked beside her car, which looked even more pitiful next to Betty. “Thanks,” she said, collecting her purse and reaching for the handle.

  His hand grasped her arm. “You’re sure you’ve got a place to stay? You’re not at your dad’s, right?”

  Her stomach soured at the thought. “Oh, God, no. I have a place.” Or she would have a place, once she checked in.

  “And you’re okay to do that? I’m not trying to, uh, you know…” He clenched his eyes and heaved a breath. “Shit. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Alyssa frowned at the sudden anger that seemed to pour off him, not able for the life of her to understand its source. She also noticed he didn’t offer up his place, and that made her want to give Kim a big kiss for ensuring she’d have enough money to get a room that night. And maybe tomorrow, too, depending on how cheap of a rate she could find. She forced a casual tone. “It’s just until I move into an apartment. I have a little money.”

  How little, he didn’t need to know.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”

  “Yep. G’night.”

  Alyssa climbed out of the car, settled into the driver’s seat of the Corolla, and rolled down the window to wave Marco off, but he refused to go. Giving up, she pulled out. He followed her down Route 40 until she veered into the drive of a random hotel. When she turned into the lot, he blew the horn as he passed behind her.

  No way she could afford this place, but he didn’t need to know that, either. As soon as his taillights disappeared around the corner, she slowly pulled back onto the road.

  Each new stop made her shoulders sag. By the third hotel, she was nervously eyeballing her half-full gas gauge and forcing herself to accept she could only afford one night. For now. Which was fine.
She’d figure it out.

  The room she finally got had a hideous floral bedspread and too-dim lighting, but it was clean and air-conditioned, and that was everything Alyssa required at the moment.

  Resilience was the biggest lesson her childhood had taught her. Things always worked out in the end. And, after all, she’d get a paycheck in a week. She didn’t have long before she’d be able to get on her feet—or at least start to.

  …

  The explosion was deafening, and then the world lurched and flipped.

  “No, no, no!” Marco gasped awake, his own voice and a deep sense of foreboding yanking him into panicked consciousness. The smell of smoke and charred flesh filling his nose, he fell back against his pillow, damp with sweat. It was the same thing every damn night.

  Jesus.

  He couldn’t decide which was worse: the raging hard-on he’d had half the night over the image of Alyssa bent over the hood of his car or the soul-stealing nightmares of the disaster that had left him less than a whole man. Both left his body aching. Both made it impossible to sleep worth a shit.

  Only one he could control. He needed to rein in his dick where his best friend’s little sister was concerned. What was that fantasy about anyway?

  Not letting himself answer his own question, he shoved out of bed and got himself ready for a run. Since he’d been well enough, physical training had been a key component of pulling his head together, and one of the only things that gave him a taste of his old life. Nothing cleared his mind like pounding out five miles, and the sun was shining brightly enough to just maybe have a shot at brightening his mood.

  Doubtful, especially with the heat of humiliation still flowing through him after tripping over words in front of Alyssa. Twice. He’d felt like such an idiot, sitting in his car unable to come up with the word pry, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know whether to hope she hadn’t noticed or that she had and it would warn her away.

  Humidity hung in the morning air when he stepped outside. His thoughts were so tangled, he didn’t notice the passing scenery as he ran himself into the ground. Those damn nightmares were like a puzzle he could never solve, filled with blank spots and missing pieces—just like his memory. He knew enough to be certain an error in his judgment had brought an end to his career and three good men’s lives. Maybe his brain conjured the details, maybe it didn’t. Either way, the dreams always sent him screaming into bleary-eyed wakefulness and left him hung over with a sense of failure that felt like suffocation.

  His thoughts drifted to his team, the one he’d lived and fought with for four years. Good men—no, great men—every last one. Men in whose hands you could place your life and know they’d give their own to protect it. Men who made sacrifices of food and sleep and blood and family so others could have those things in spades. Men who defended liberty and battled oppression by any means necessary. He used to be one of those men.

  No more.

  Goddammit all to hell.

  As he passed the high school, the memory of his last visit there came to mind. Alyssa’s graduation. Man, he’d been proud of her. He’d given her a stuffed bear and a pair of small diamond earrings, and she’d acted like they were the greatest presents she’d ever received. That night, when Brady presented her with the used car he’d saved up for, she’d taken the bear with her for her inaugural drive. He wondered if she still had that bear. One thing was for certain—she still had the earrings, because she’d been wearing them at Whiskey’s the day before. That shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.

  Forty minutes later, he returned to the little house he’d been renting. Renting, not owned. Nothing in his life was permanent anymore; he’d made sure of it. Hands braced on his knees, he watched two droplets of sweat splash to the sidewalk.

  This yearning for what he could never be and never have was pointless. Not to mention pathetic. And that included Alyssa Scott. Not that he was thinking of acting on those midnight fantasies, but clearly his body couldn’t tell the difference between a woman he could have and one he had no business wanting.

  He stalked inside, the air-conditioning like ice against his sweaty, sun-heated skin, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge that he drained in one long drink. The next order of business was a shower.

  The rough spray beat down on him for long minutes and eased some of the tension from his muscles, but not enough to keep him from thinking about Alyssa. If there was anyone who meant as much to him as his teammates, it was her. You just didn’t forget a lifetime of protecting and caring for someone, especially someone so sweet and kind. And not only that. Alyssa had always been one of his biggest cheerleaders. From attending all his high school baseball games, to giving him little gifts when he passed the four stages of the Special Forces qualification course, to sending him letters and the occasional care package when he’d been in the army.

  In her own way, Alyssa had always been there for him, too.

  She was going to be so disappointed when she learned what he’d become. Or, not become.

  So he wouldn’t let her.

  Still, he couldn’t let anything happen to her—just maybe he could manage not to fuck up the protection of a single woman.

  But he also couldn’t let her get too close.

  Goddamn Whiskey’s. Of all places, why’d she have to get a job there? As if worrying about the patrons on a rowdy show night wasn’t bad enough, he now had the guys at lunch yesterday tripping all over themselves to catch her eye. And she didn’t even realize what she was doing to them.

  Note to self: beat some damn sense into Brady for letting this happen.

  But, fine. He’d keep an eye out for her. But he’d also keep his distance.

  His body, his pride, his whole friggin’ sense of worth had already taken hits that might yet prove fatal. No way was he opening up his heart, too.

  Fuck’s sake.

  What did his heart have to do with it? Okay, no question he’d always loved her—their history made sure of that—but this was his best friend’s little sister he was talking about. A girl who had grown up in his house, well, a lot of the time. Not someone he could have or fall in love with. Not someone he could ever expect to shoulder his baggage.

  Brady would kick his ass from here to Sunday if he ever hurt Alyssa. And then Marco would kick his own ass for good measure.

  Marco stepped out of the shower and pulled on his jeans and T-shirt for work, a plan forming in his mind. No more chitchatting with her. No more rides in Betty. No more letting her hug him—that one was critical.

  Simple as pie.

  After all, he’d been in the United States Army Special Forces, fuck you very much. You might take the man out of the SF, but you couldn’t take the SF out of the man. He’d been up against some of the world’s meanest and toughest. So, goddamn straight he could work his way around one young woman.

  Right? Right.

  Outside, he approached Betty, pointedly avoiding looking at the hood. And wasn’t his inability to keep his gaze away just a slap in the pants? Jesus. But, whatever. It was fine. He had a plan, and all he needed to do was stick to it. It shouldn’t be that hard.

  Chapter Four

  Alyssa arrived at Whiskey’s feeling like she could climb Mt. Everest. The hotel had given her a late checkout so she’d had time for a swim in the pool. Laying on a lounge chair for a half an hour, she’d even gotten the hint of a tan. And she’d see Marco again. How could the day get better?

  Well, if Pete let her wait her own tables., that would be better. Then she’d make enough tips to stay checked in at the hotel until payday. Which meant she needed to talk to him straightaway.

  She pulled into the staff lot at the rear of the building, her eyes immediately scanning for Betty. There she was in all her gleaming black glory, along the fence at the rear where Marco had parked yesterday. He was going to let her drive that car. He just didn’t know it yet. The thought made Alyssa smile.

  With a spring in her step, she opened the back do
or—and nearly walked right into Eric, two big bags of garbage in his hands. “Damn, sorry,” he said, almost hitting her with one of them.

  “Oh, no, my fault,” Alyssa said. “Here.” She held the door open for him, noticing for the first time how tall he was.

  He smiled as he passed by. “Someone got some sun.”

  “Beautiful day. I couldn’t spend it all inside, now, could I?”

  “Nope,” he called as he heaved the bags into the Dumpster. He dusted off his hands and brushed his brown hair back off his face. “You here early?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to talk to Pete for a minute before things get busy.” They headed inside, the air-conditioning soothing Alyssa’s warmed skin as the door closed behind them.

  “I think he’s in his office.” Eric paused at the door to the kitchen. “But, hey, if you have time, stop back by in half an hour or so. Pete asked me to show you how we set up the spread in the green room. We need to get done in there before the band arrives.”

  Alyssa nodded, excited to see that space. Yesterday, the band had arrived early, so Pete had skipped it during her tour. “Would love to. Thanks, Eric.”

  He winked. “You bet, Scotty.”

  Alyssa groaned. “Oh, no. Tell me you’re not a Trekky. The ‘beam me up’ jokes aren’t coming next, right?”

  His expression froze, amusement mixed with uncertainty. Truth be told, Eric was a cute guy. Not breathtaking like Marco, but he wore a smile and a pair of jeans nicely enough. And even though he seemed a little shy, he was funny.

  Alyssa burst out laughing at his deer-in-the-headlights imitation and started down the hall. “What is it with boys and Star Trek anyway?”

  “James T. Kirk was a god among men,” he called after her.

  “Oh my God. Your inner geek is safe with me.” She threw him a smile as she turned down the next hall.

  And crashed right into Marco. She squeaked as her body collided with his from hips to nose. His arms came around her back, steadying her while she regained her footing. Her apology died in her throat as his scent and heat and touch overwhelmed her.