Her Forbidden Hero

by Laura Kaye

  Alyssa dug into her pancakes when they came, enjoying the burst of warm blueberry on her tongue. She could only make it halfway through the huge stack before she had to admit defeat. Her cell phone rang and she dropped her napkin to her plate.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Aly, it’s me,” came her brother’s voice through a crackle of static.

  “Brady? Oh my God. Are you okay? Where are you?” She pressed her fingers against her other ear in an attempt to hear through the poor connection.

  “I’m fine. Listen, I—” His words cut out behind a burst of static. “…tell you…weeks. Are you…”

  “Brady, you’re coming in and out.”

  “…I don’t know when I’ll…”

  Tears pricked at the backs of Alyssa’s eyes. “I can’t hear you. Just promise me you’re okay.”

  “…okay. I promise… Damn, Aly, I have to…”

  “Brady?”

  “…again if I can, okay?”

  Alyssa nodded in reply, though of course he couldn’t see her. “Call me again when you can. I love you.”

  “Me, too. Okay, gotta—” The line went dead.

  Blinking the tears from her eyes, she pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. She didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d been trying to tell her. At least she knew that, somewhere out there in the world, her brother was fine and thinking about her.

  Talking to Brady always made her realize just how much she missed him. She hadn’t seen him since two Christmases ago—the same time she’d last seen Marco before this week. She could picture the two of them so clearly in her mind, sitting at Mrs. Vieri’s dinner table. Their hair had been shorter than they’d kept it before, their skin more tanned, but they’d both seemed their old selves, joking around, telling stories, and eating everything that wasn’t nailed down.

  Feeling a little rattled, she dropped her money on the table and headed for the bathroom. An idea sprang to mind and she about-faced and went to her car instead. She could freshen up here. Except for the overnight bag she’d been living out of the past few days, most of her clothes were squished into her trunk. She grabbed a hand towel, her toiletry bag, and a fresh set of clothes, concealed everything in her overnight bag, then made her way back inside and into the small single-toilet bathroom.

  The door locked behind her, Alyssa dropped her bag to the floor. She laid a few paper towels on the tile in front of the sink to stand on, then toed off her Chucks and undressed. Racing against the inevitable knock on the door, Alyssa washed off at the sink, patted dry with the hand towel, and redressed as fast as she could. Once she was decent again, she relaxed. Teeth and hair brushed and makeup back on, she felt more like herself already.

  Disaster averted!

  Except, apparently, this wasn’t going to be her day.

  With nowhere else to go, she wandered the mall until almost noon but got so sleepy she finally decided to spring the six bucks it cost to go to a matinee movie. She ended up sleeping through the film and the credits, which meant she had to race across town to make it to Whiskey’s on time. When she arrived, she realized she’d never clocked out the previous night, so she’d had to go to Pete and apologize for “forgetting.” She felt horrible about the half truth and making a bad impression so soon, but it wasn’t like she could admit why she’d forgotten.

  From there, her day continued to go downhill. Marco called in sick to work—which he never did, according to the day’s running commentary. And, of course, he didn’t answer either of the calls she’d placed to check on him. Then, to top it off, she got paired with a different waitress for her last training shift. Unlike Kim, Tori was clearly unhappy to have Alyssa shadowing her. Instead, she alternated between ignoring her and bossing her around all night and never gave a thought about sharing any of her tips, despite the fact that Alyssa had handled two of the tables on her own.

  When she’d finished her shift, Alyssa crashed on the ugly couch in the lounge. Anxiety had her shaking her crossed feet and wondering what the heck she should do. She’d expected to make a little more in tips tonight, but she never should’ve blown nearly twenty dollars on breakfast and a movie. She took a deep breath. It’ll work out. Somehow it will.

  “Hey, you. Up for helping me again tonight?”

  Alyssa forced her eyes open and found Eric standing in the doorway. Oh, the green room. She was so tired, but it hadn’t taken that long the night before. Might as well do it and make her check that much bigger. She was going to need every cent to get on her feet.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” She pushed off the couch. “Sorry. Just had a bad day and I’m a little cranky.” She gave Eric a small smile.

  “No worries. Besides, if you think that’s cranky, you should see Van when he’s in a bad mood. The whole kitchen staff braces to dodge flying butcher knives.”

  Alyssa gaped. “That never happened. Did it?”

  Eric snickered. “I heard a story once, but it’s probably an urban legend.”

  “I’m so telling him you said that.” Eric’s expression froze, and Alyssa chuckled despite her bad mood. “Come on. Let’s get this done.”

  “Okay.” They stepped out of the lounge and Eric grabbed a cart that would carry the chafing dishes back to the kitchen. “You won’t really tell him, will you?”

  Alyssa bumped him with her elbow. “You know, between the Star Trek obsession and this comment about Van, I’m gathering a lot of dirt on you.”

  “Hmm. I guess now the question is what you’ll do with it.”

  She pushed into the green room and held the door open so Eric could slide the cart through. “Sure is. Better watch your step, mister.”

  They worked through the same routine as the previous night, Eric concentrating on the food and bathrooms and Alyssa on gathering the trash and cleaning the kitchen. Every time she glanced at the couch, her stomach flipped.

  The room was messier than last time, so it took them close to an hour to finish. Eric pushed the cart of food to the kitchen, and Alyssa rolled out the vacuum. He returned for the garbage, and she helped him carry a third bag of it to the Dumpster out back.

  “Thanks,” he said when they were done. “You have no idea how nice it is to have help.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be glad for a little extra money.”

  He walked her to the lounge and they both clocked out—at least she hadn’t forgotten that.

  “Hey, Alyssa?”

  She looked up as she returned her time card to the rack. Something about his gaze made butterflies take flight in her belly. “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have to, at all, but would you like to go out sometime?”

  Stunned, she opened and closed her mouth, struggling for words. “Uh—”

  His cheeks went pink. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I mean, you took me by surprise.” She shifted her feet and wrapped her arms around herself, debating what to say. “Listen, you’re a very nice guy, and I’m glad to have you for a friend. And I’m not blowing you off saying that, because I don’t really have that many friends here. But I’m kinda hung up on someone else, so it wouldn’t really be fair for me to say yes.”

  After a long moment, he gave a small, uncomfortable smile. “Okay, so…see you tomorrow, then?”

  She hoped things wouldn’t get weird between them. “Where else would I be?”

  He grinned, more natural now. “Right. Me, too. G’night.”

  “’Bye,” she said, turning to her locker to grab her purse. In the privacy of the lounge, she fished out her wallet and counted her money on the couch. She had eighty dollars and change to her name, and the hotel would take sixty-five of it. If that wasn’t the definition of dire straits, she didn’t know what was. Damn. If things didn’t work out the way she expected with tips tomorrow, she might have to seriously consider…what? What could she do? Besides her clu
nker of a car, she had two things of value to her name—the iPhone that was her only means of staying in touch with Brady, and the guitar he’d sent for her birthday. The latter would likely bring her a couple hundred bucks at a pawnshop, but he would kill her. And it would break her heart to part with it.

  But what else could she do?

  Stuffing her money back in her wallet, she shuffled out of the room and down the hall. Outside, the night air was warm and sticky and did little to lighten her spirits. She plopped into the driver’s seat and let her head thunk back against the headrest. Tossing her purse onto the passenger seat, her gaze landed upon her overnight bag.

  A really bad idea crept into her brain.

  She sucked in a breath and internally reprimanded herself for even entertaining the thought of sneaking back into the green room.

  But who would know? Nobody was the wiser last night. And you can’t really afford a hotel tonight. It’s cutting it too close. You know it’s true.

  Alyssa clenched her eyes shut. It was horrible of her to consider, it really was. But would it truly hurt anything? It was just this one last night, and she’d make sure the room was spic and span before she left in the morning.

  Before she could talk herself out of the idea, Alyssa grabbed her bag, selected clean clothes for the morning from her trunk, and rushed across the lot. Other cars remained parked there, despite the fact the place was mostly empty, so hopefully her car wouldn’t raise any suspicion. Opening the back door, she peered inside. She took a deep breath that failed to calm her thundering heart and tried to act normal. If anyone asked, she could say…she’d left her cell phone in the green room. Yeah. No one would think twice about that.

  The metallic clang of pots and pans sounded out of the kitchen, but otherwise Whiskey’s was still and quiet. Once she was clear of the kitchen, she jogged down one hall, then another, and finally slipped into the green room. The lights flickered on automatically.

  Perched on the edge of the couch, Alyssa was sure any moment the door would burst open and a throng of employees would point accusing fingers at her. Every little noise had her flinching and straining to discern what she’d heard. She eventually set the alarm on her cell phone and stretched out on the couch, muscles tense, feeling nowhere close to falling asleep.

  After a few minutes, the lights went out and Alyssa tried to picture jumping sheep to distract herself from how wrong this was. Problem was, instead of saying, “Baa, baa,” as they went over the fence, those judgmental wool balls insisted on saying, “Bad, bad.”

  Okay, subconscious, duly noted.

  She woke up on and off most of the night, not successfully relaxing into the deep, restful sleep she craved until closer to morning. But finally, finally, she dozed off.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Alyssa jolted awake, not sure what had roused her. She lifted her head from the couch and blinked into the too-bright light. And there stood Marco, blue eyes blazing and anger carving sharp angles into his gorgeous face.

  Oh, crap.

  Chapter Six

  Worry, adrenaline, and a healthy dose of anger had Marco nearly vibrating. “I have been out of my mind looking for you. What the hell are you doing in here?” His eyes scanned over her, looking for any sign that she wasn’t okay.

  Alyssa pushed into a sitting position, face pale and bloodshot eyes turning glassy. “Sleeping. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I…” Marco raked his hands through his hair. His heart was like a freight train roaring through his chest. “Well, let’s see. I came to work early to make sure my bar hadn’t gone to shit while I was out yesterday, only to find your car still parked outside.”

  Alyssa winced.

  “When you didn’t answer your cell for, oh, the fourth time, I figured either someone grabbed you in the parking lot or something happened to you in here.” Another possibility he’d entertained was that she’d gone home with one of the guys, which was almost as bad as the others. Any way he sliced it, he’d been convinced down to his bones that he’d failed in his job of protecting someone. Again. “I was two minutes away from calling 9-1-1. I’ve been tearing this place apart for the last half hour.” He blew out a breath, trying to calm the pounding of his pulse.

  Alyssa stood, appearing small and uncertain. “Look,” she said, not meeting his gaze, “I’m sorry I worried you. But I’m fine, as you can see.” She stuffed her feet into a pair of black Chucks.

  Bracing his hands on his hips, Marco glared. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nothing—”

  “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if someone else had been the one to find you? Dammit!”

  She shrank away from the escalating volume of his words, but he couldn’t hold it in. Now that he’d found her, those long moments of anxiety for her safety demanded release. Jesus, if anything had happened to her…

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Ten o’clock.”

  Her face went whiter, if that were possible. “Oh my God. I must’ve turned off my alarm. Are there other people here?”

  “Yes, Alyssa, there are. It’s Sunday. We open in two hours, and the first show is at one. Now you see what I’m saying?”

  “Okay, Marco. I get it. I messed up. Yelling at me doesn’t change that.” She picked up her bag and stepped past him.

  He grabbed her arm. “We’re not done yet.”

  She arched a brow. Tears clung to the rims of her eyes, twisting his gut. “Let go,” she whispered, staring at his hand.

  Ease off, Marco. But he couldn’t. Every instinct screamed to protect her, hold on to her, never let her go. It was the only way to be sure. He forced a more normal tone into his voice. “Why were you sleeping in here?”

  Alyssa released a shaky breath. A single tear spilled down her cheek.

  That unusual show of weakness chased away the last of his anger. Even as a child, she rarely dealt with her father’s abuse with tears. Gently, he pulled her in front of him and bent down enough he could look into her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on, Aly.”

  She struggled to hold his gaze, and that about broke his heart. When had she stopped feeling comfortable around him? When had she stopped being able to tell him anything? They’d always had that kind of relationship.

  You never raised your voice at her before. Ever think of that, genius?

  He forced himself to take a calming breath. “I’m sorry I yelled. You’re right. That wasn’t helpful. I was just worried.” He shook his head, now finding that he was the one who had to look away. “But please tell me why you slept in here.”

  Her muscles tensed under his grip. “My money’s tight. That’s all. I didn’t mean to hurt anything. And today I’ll be able to wait my own tables, so—”

  Anger took root in his chest again. “You put yourself in danger over money? Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”

  “Because I wanted to do this on my own. I can do this on my own.”

  He made a big show of looking around, knowing he was being an asshole, but her naïveté was setting off every protective urge he possessed. “Oh, really? Well, if this is you doing it on your own, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

  Alyssa tugged out of his hands, her face bright red. “Go to hell, Marco. I already admitted I screwed up, so what else do you want from me? And,” she said, storming down the hall, “if this was the kind of help you had in mind, you can keep it. If I wanted to be yelled at and taunted, I’d have gone to my father’s.”

  She might as well have slapped him. “Alyssa!”

  Hesitating in the bathroom doorway, she said, “Can you just stand watch for a minute? I know I probably shouldn’t, but I need a shower. I’ll be fast.” The door clicked shut behind her.

  That she was getting naked on the other side of that door shouldn’t have turned him on, but his anger instantly morphed into red-hot desire that had his body wanting to prove she was here an
d okay by burying himself deep inside her.

  Jesus. What was wrong with him? He dropped onto the couch, still warm where he’d found her curled into a ball. He needed to calm himself down—his temper and his damn hard-on. He could kick himself for coming at her with both barrels blazing, but the idea that something might’ve happened to her tripped the irrational anger triggers in his brain.

  It wasn’t irrational. He thought he was wrecked now? Anything ever happened to that woman and it would destroy him.

  Woman.

  When had he started thinking of her on those terms? It was true, wasn’t it? Alyssa Scott was all grown up.

  An idea came to mind, and he knew what he had to do. But would she agree? And could he handle it?

  When the bathroom door opened, Marco flew to his feet. Though she looked fresh-faced and smelled like heaven, her normally sparkling eyes were dull.

  “Alyssa, I’m sorry.”

  She hiked her bag onto her shoulder. “Can you…would you please not say anything to Pete? It won’t happen again.”

  She thought he was going to rat her out? Clearly he was the one doing a bang-up job here. “Of course I won’t say anything, but—”

  She rested her hand on his bicep, her palm covering the edge of his scars. That one touch had his body roaring back to life. “I don’t want to fight with you, okay? Let’s just”—she sighed—“let’s just drop it.” She stepped around him and reached for the door.

  “Aly, wait.”

  She paused but didn’t face him. “I need some air.” Then she slipped through the door.

  Tense negotiations in foreign languages with warlords who would shoot you as soon as look at you, he could handle. A simple conversation with a twenty-two-year-old American woman? Apparently not. Goddammit.

  By the time Marco screwed his head on straight, Alyssa’s car was gone from the lot. He dialed her cell number, but she didn’t answer. Guess he had that coming after he’d sent her calls to voice mail yesterday. But it was only because his arm had hurt like a mother—Max’s prediction had been dead-on—and he hadn’t wanted her to hear it in his voice.