by Janie Crouch
“It’s not good for you to be here with me, Steve. I’m afraid I’ll only bring heartache for you.” Or worse.
“Are you married?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “Never have been.”
He took a step closer. She could smell his damp skin, the saltiness of the sea air and something that was distinctly male. She breathed in deeply.
“Are you running from the law?”
“No,” she whispered as he moved closer again, his body now so close to hers she could feel the heat. She leaned closer, unable to stop herself.
“Then I don’t think there’s any reason at all for you to leave this room if you don’t want to.”
His lips closed the inches between them and she couldn’t think of any response even if there’d been a good one anyway. Instead she just gave herself over to the kiss.
If she was going to lose everything, she was going to have this one night with this gorgeous, strong man first. Tomorrow be damned.
The heat all but consumed them both. Her arms reached up to wrap around his shoulders, then his neck. She clutched at his hair, too impassioned to be gentle.
Steve didn’t mind at all. His arms circled her waist, then reached lower to cup her hips and pull her up and into him.
Both of them gasped.
He took possession of her mouth. There was no other word for it. Possession. His tongue stroked against hers and fire licked at them both. Her fingers linked behind his neck to capture him. Not that he seemed interested in being anywhere but pressed up against her.
“Rosalyn.” Her name was reverent on his lips.
She began walking forward, causing him to move backward toward the bed. His arms were still wrapped around her hips making sure they were fully pressed together. When his knees finally hit the bed and he fell backward, he lifted her—as if she weighed nothing at all—and pulled her on top of him.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured. “It’s still okay if you just want to be here. Nothing has to happen.”
He would say that while she was lying flat on top of him? They weren’t undressed yet, but Rosalyn had no doubt they would be soon. In her experience most guys would call her a tease—or much worse—if she decided to call a halt to everything at this point.
“You would stop now if I asked you to?”
He threaded his hands in her hair and pulled her back so he could see her more clearly.
“Of course. Is that what you want?”
“No. Just most guys would give a woman a hard time if she decided to change her mind now.”
“Honey, a real man accepts that a woman can change her mind at any time and respects the word no if he hears it.”
Was it possible to fall a little bit in love with someone you’d known for only a few hours?
Rosalyn sat up, her legs straddling Steve’s hips. She unbuttoned her shirt and slowly peeled it over her shoulders. “Well, thanks for asking, but I have no desire to stop.” She pulled her sneakers and socks off and threw them over the side of the bed.
Steve crossed his arms under his head and just watched her. “Thank goodness. I would’ve stopped, but I sure as hell didn’t want to.”
She gasped as he sat up suddenly, forcing them even closer together. He spun and scooted them farther on the bed before dropping her down so he was now on top. She helped him discard his shirt, then pulled him back down to her.
His lips met hers again. No, she wasn’t interested in stopping. She was already coming apart inside. She held on to Steve and let his lovemaking chase away the demons that weren’t far outside the door.
* * *
THEY DIDN’T LEAVE the bungalow the entire next day, which was fine with Rosalyn. Who needed the beach? Especially on a cloudy, dreary day. Instead they made use of the bed and the couch and very good use of the heart-shaped hot tub. Steve ordered room service for every meal.
Steve’s colleagues might have meant the room as a joke—and heaven knew it wasn’t tasteful in its decorating—but Rosalyn loved every bit of it.
It was her own hideaway. The Watcher obviously didn’t know she was here. And as long as she stayed inside, there was no way he would find her.
She wondered if she could talk Steve into staying in the room forever. She looked over at him sleeping in the bed next to her right now, so late at night. His sexy face relaxed in sleep. It hadn’t always been that way. She’d seen his face tensed in passion or smiling as he talked to her and told her a story from his past. She’d also seen the concern when she caught him studying her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.
He was worried about her.
If he knew about the Watcher, he’d be less concerned about her well-being and more concerned with his own. Might even ask her to leave right away.
Every person she’d told about the Watcher who believed her had wound up dead. She wouldn’t take that chance with Steve. She’d just live in this little bungalow of fantasy until it didn’t exist anymore. Then she would go.
But she knew she’d be leaving a little part of her heart behind when she did. She rolled onto her side so she could study him more fully. She reached out and stroked his hair by his ear, drawing her fingers down his cheek. He turned his face toward her, seeking her touch even in his sleep.
She should sleep now too. It had been a pleasurable but exhausting day and now it was late. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.
Her eyes were drifting closed when she heard the sound.
It didn’t wake Steve. Why would it? It was just the barest whisper of a noise. If her body and mind hadn’t already been programmed to listen for it—to fear it above all else—Rosalyn wouldn’t have heard it either.
The sound of an envelope being slid under the door.
Her heart stopped and her breathing became ragged. The acid that burned in her stomach—blessedly missing for the last day—returned with a force that caused Rosalyn to ball up on the bed.
She bit her fist, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to awaken Steve. If she did, she’d never be able to keep this a secret from him.
The Watcher had found her again.
Rosalyn lay on the bed for what seemed like forever trying to get herself under control. She finally managed to crawl off, dropping silently to the floor, and stumbled over to where the envelope lay.
With shaking hands she picked it up and pulled out the paper from inside.
If you like Steve so much, I guess I’ll need to meet him soon.
She swallowed the sob in her throat. No. She couldn’t allow the Watcher to come after Steve. The thought galvanized her into action.
Within minutes she had silently dressed and grabbed her bag. Steve had rolled over toward her side of the bed, as if he was seeking her missing form, but Rosalyn refused to let herself think about it. If she did, she would never make it out.
And she had to concentrate on where she was going to go. The time with Steve had given her the strength not to give up her battle against the Watcher. To keep fighting. But it hadn’t given her a course of action with which to do that. She didn’t have any money and she had no plan.
She spotted Steve’s wallet on the dresser. He’d used it each time he’d paid for the food that had been delivered. Food he wouldn’t even consider letting her help pay for—good, considering how broke she was.
Shame beat down on Rosalyn as she opened his wallet and took out the cash. One hundred and eighty-three dollars.
She didn’t know how far it would get her, but at least it would get her away from here. Get the Watcher away from Steve.
She looked down at his naked back, his hips and legs tangled in the sheets. He’d never know how much he’d meant to her. What he’d given her in a time she’d needed so much.
He’d just
remember her as a one-and-a-half-night stand and the woman who stole his cash. She’d become a cocktail story for him. A joking warning to his friends.
The tears leaked out of her eyes. This time she didn’t even try to stop them.
Thinking about her would be distasteful for Steve.
But at least he would be alive.
Chapter Four
Six months later
“Would it be okay for us to see Steve now or should we make an appointment?” Brandon Han, Omega’s top profiler, asked one of Steve’s assistants in the outer office.
“Yeah, maybe we should make an appointment. For around eighteen months from now.” That was Liam Goetz, leader of the hostage rescue team. “When hopefully Steve is in a better mood.”
Cynthia, the assistant who kept his entire office running, laughed. “I think it’s safe now.”
Steve winced. Obviously nobody realized the door to his office was cracked and he could hear everything they were saying.
“Should we remove our weapons?” Liam asked.
“Why? Are you afraid you might shoot him?” Cynthia’s gentle laughter didn’t make Steve feel better.
“Are you kidding? I’m afraid he might take them and shoot us.”
The topic moved on to more neutral ground: Liam’s twins and Tallinn, the little girl he and his wife had adopted. Liam had pictures. Steve stopped listening.
Liam’s jokes didn’t bother him—Liam was always making jokes—but Brandon’s initial question did. These men were an important part of the Critical Response Division’s inner team. Steve’s team. Moreover, they were his friends. They didn’t need an appointment to see him.
But evidently they thought so given Steve’s behavior over the last few months.
Rosalyn.
He ran a hand over his eyes, then turned his chair so he was facing the Rocky Mountains out the window.
When he’d awakened as the sun began to rise in Pensacola and found her gone, he’d at first thought she’d decided to walk on the beach or run out to get donuts or something. Heaven knew they hadn’t left the room in a day and a half. Maybe she’d needed some air.
Then he realized all her stuff, including that giant catchall bag she carried, was gone.
Going against his nature, Steve still gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was scared of something, he knew. He’d hoped to convince her to tell him what it was, to let him help.
Every time he’d considered broaching the subject—telling her he worked in law enforcement and could help her with whatever had her so afraid—they’d ended up making love instead.
Not that Steve had minded that. The only time he didn’t see shadows floating in Rosalyn’s eyes was when they were filled with passion. He had hoped to convince her to stay the rest of the week with him and during that time get her to tell him what was really going on with her. To share whatever burdens she carried. And the secrets she was obviously keeping.
Starting with her last name.
But it soon became obvious Rosalyn wasn’t out to grab coffee or go for a jog. Steve had known that from the beginning, although he hadn’t wanted to face it. Someone who looked over her shoulder as much as Rosalyn, who’d been so willing to stay inside the bungalow even when there was a gorgeous beach right outside, wouldn’t be going out for a casual walk.
Checking his wallet confirmed it. She’d taken every bit of his cash.
She’d played him.
Even now, six months later, the thought sat heavily in his gut. The time they’d spent together hadn’t meant anything to Rosalyn. He was just a means to an end.
Steve had packed up his stuff that afternoon and returned to Colorado Springs. He’d been in a bad mood ever since. Obviously something everyone was aware of, from the conversation that had just occurred outside his door.
The thing was, he would’ve given Rosalyn the money—more if she’d needed it—if she had let him know what was going on. Would’ve done it without her having sex with him or waiting until he was asleep to steal it.
But she hadn’t. She’d found him to be an easy mark and taken off.
Steve stood and walked over to the plastic evidence bag on his windowsill and picked it up. It held a glass inside. One from the bungalow that he knew contained Rosalyn’s fingerprints.
Steve had brought it back with him like it was some damn souvenir or something.
“Hey, boss.”
Steve put the bag back down quickly. “Brandon, hi.”
“Liam is showing Cynthia pictures of the twins.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Who would’ve thought the great womanizer would become such a family man.”
Brandon joined Steve at the window. “Just takes the right woman.”
Brandon had found the right woman a couple of months ago—Omega behavioral analyst Andrea Gordon—and Steve couldn’t argue the change it had brought about in the man. The peace it had brought both Brandon and Andrea.
“You brought that home from Florida, right?” Brandon asked, pointing to the evidence bag. “Prints, I’m assuming. But you’ve never run them.”
Steve shrugged. Brandon was a certified genius and a profiler. Not much got past him.
“I’m assuming something happened with a woman down there. If I had to guess, I would say a one-night stand.”
Sometimes Han was spooky good at his job. Steve shrugged again. “It was Florida. And you guys did pitch in to get me the romance package.”
“Then I’m assuming she took off suddenly, probably while you were unaware.”
“Why do you say that?” Steve crossed back over to his desk chair.
Brandon leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You sure you want me to go into this? I didn’t come here to profile you, Steve.”
“No, please. Continue.” Brandon was rarely wrong and Steve needed to hear what the man thought of his behavior.
“Okay, you met a woman. You were extremely interested in her. I would assume the relationship became intimate, but you didn’t and still don’t know much about her.”
All right so far. Steve gestured for Brandon to continue.
“Something happened. Something not good. The fact that you have an evidence bag with a glass with her prints suggests that you want to know more about her. Who she is. But the fact that you haven’t run them suggests that she hurt you personally in some way rather than actually committing a crime against you, in which case you would try to find and arrest her. She hurt your pride.”
Actually, Rosalyn had done both, committed a crime and hurt his pride.
“And you’re mad at yourself.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”
“You keep that bag in the center of the windowsill. You look out that window at least a dozen times a day. Every time you do, you’re reminded of the woman who got the best of you. Who got past your guard, then hurt you. You want to remind yourself never to be weak like that again.”
Steve leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re on our side, Han.”
Brandon walked over to Steve’s desk. “It’s okay to want to check on her, Steve. To see if she’s okay. To be concerned about her even after she did whatever she did.”
Now he was getting further off course. “You getting that from an evidence bag too?”
“No. I can tell that from knowing you for so many years. Nobody just gets the drop on you. You let this woman close to you for a reason—more than just a physical one. No matter how it all ended, you’re still a little concerned about her.”
A picture of Rosalyn’s haunted blue eyes jumped into Steve’s mind but he pushed it away. Rosalyn was a consummate actress. She’d faked passion with him, then stolen his money. She was lucky he wasn’t running her prints—he was sure she’d end up in the system
somewhere—and having her arrested.
He told himself it was because stealing less than $200 wasn’t worth the taxpayers’ money needed to have her arrested and put in jail for a few months.
It had nothing to do with being concerned for her.
“Well, most of your profile of me and this situation is correct, except for the last part. I don’t have any concern about her.” Steve smiled, but it was stiff, as if it had been so long the muscles seemed to have forgotten how. “Just want the reminder not to be a jackass again.”
“Oh man, are we profiling Steve?” Liam asked from the doorway. “I missed all the good stuff.”
Liam would probably make the worst profiler ever. The man didn’t care how people thought, just wanted to understand the best way to bring down bad guys.
“Don’t worry, Liam, I’ll try to control myself and not use your own weapon against you.”
Liam at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry about that, boss. I know I—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Steve cut him off. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around for the last few months.”
“Are you kidding me? I have a wife trying to nurse newborn twins. She hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since they were born. You are not the grumpiest person I know.”
Steve snickered. “Glad to hear I at least beat out an exhausted new mother.”
“Yeah, well, I keep my weapons away from her too.” Liam grinned.
The two men took a seat. It was good to feel something besides anger. Listening to Brandon’s profile had helped Steve realize it was time to let it all go.
Yeah, he’d been a fool and had gotten played. But now it was time to move on.
* * *
STEVE LEFT LATE that night and was back in the office early the next morning, as per his usual habits. Like always, Cynthia was in the office before Steve got there.
“Morning, Steve.” She handed him a stack of papers as he came in. “I’ve got your overnight Washington, DC, briefings, your weekly Omega Division Directors’ update and your Pensacola police briefings.”
Steve took the papers from her. “Thanks.”
