Pivot

by Kat Martin

  * * *

  Evan switched off the engine and watched a mangy dog run across the empty street ahead, spraying mud from puddles. He turned and surveyed the dilapidated pawnshop, which was flanked by two boarded-up businesses. An empty lot, littered with fast-food wrappers, extended wide on the other side of the street. “How did you even find out about this place?” he muttered.

  Michelle pushed unruly hair away from her face. “I googled it.”

  Huh. All right. He reached past her for his gun and tucked it in the back of his waist. “How about you stay here in the truck and I go inside?” Oh, it was going to get him smacked, but he at least had to offer.

  Her frown was adorable and hit him dead center in the chest. “Not a chance.”

  That’s what he’d figured. He tried really hard not to focus on the fact that she’d be doing this alone if Raider hadn’t contacted him. How much had she done alone in the years he’d been gone? After returning home to the States, he’d had to work on himself, on the night terrors, before he could reach out to her—to any of his family. Was he ready? He wasn’t sure, but right now they had more important things to worry about. “All right, but let me lead.”

  She shook her head, and all of that beautiful hair moved. “My tablet, my problem.” Tugging down her mellow-yellow sweater over formfitting jeans, she pushed her door open and darted into the rain, her brown boots splashing up water.

  He sighed and exited the vehicle, hurrying around to reach her. Together, they walked through weeds and up sagging steps to a dinged metal door. A sign above the door said PAWN, but the A was missing. The door opened easily, and he stepped inside a dusty showroom with surprisingly secure glass cases forming a square around the space.

  A guy of about thirty scurried out of a back room, eyeglasses on his narrow face, his bony body covered by a striped blue and yellow collared shirt and sagging cargo pants. “Can I help you?” He pushed the glasses up his nose.

  “Yes.” Michelle stepped gingerly over the uneven wooden floor to reach the glass case, which held several cameras and a couple of sparkling necklaces. “I’m looking for a tablet with a case cover of various comic figures. It would’ve come in late last night or earlier today.”

  The guy’s gaze flicked to Evan. “You’re a cop.”

  “Yep,” Evan agreed. “I’m here for the tablet and nothing else. Don’t care what you have going on.” Not to mention that he was way out of his jurisdiction and had no authority here, but the other guy didn’t know that. “We’ll pay for it.” He’d do almost anything to ease the panic he kept glimpsing in Michelle’s pretty eyes.

  “I wish I had that tablet, I really do.” The guy scratched at a pimple on his neck. “If you give me your number, I’ll call you if it comes in.”

  Evan narrowed his gaze, remaining silent. The guy started to twitch nervously and grabbed a rag from his back pocket to rub across the glass counter, which was already clean.

  Michelle looked at him, back at Evan, and then to the guy again. “We really don’t care how you got it. Are you sure you don’t have it?”

  “I don’t.” The guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Really wish I did.”

  Ah. Evan lowered his chin. “I take it we’re not the first folks to ask about it?”

  Michelle stiffened, and he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The sweater material was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and he kept his touch gentle.

  The guy looked at them, his chest sunken in. His eyes were bloodshot and his movements twitchy. He kept moving as if he couldn’t stop himself, wiping down the glass cases. “Yeah. A lady came in and asked for it just a couple of hours ago, but I don’t have it. I’m tellin’ you the truth, man.”

  Irresponsible Jayleen. Evan set his stance. “Did she ask you for anything else?” He ignored Michelle’s indrawn breath at his question.

  “No,” the guy said, his gaze flicking down.

  Liar. “Did you sell her drugs?” Evan kept his voice level.

  The guy looked up, his pupils dilated. “Nope. I don’t sell drugs.” He held up a bony hand as Michelle began to speak. “Even if I did, which I do not, that lady didn’t have any money. So no.”

  Probably the truth. Evan smiled then, and he almost enjoyed the guy’s audible gulp of a swallow. “Okay. Then give us the same list you gave her—the one with pawnshops not found in the phone book or on Google. We’ll leave you alone.”

  For now, anyway.

  Chapter Four

  Michelle picked at the pepperoni and pineapple pizza in front of her, her body tired and her head still aching. They’d searched eleven more pawnshops the rest of the day, coming up empty.

  “We have a dozen more so-called shops to check tomorrow,” Evan said, finishing off his third piece and looking way too at home across her small kitchen table.

  She ate another bite, her senses tuning in to him. With his size, he usually overwhelmed most spaces, but it was more than that. His personality, his heat, and that naturally wild gleam in his eyes, automatically drew attention. Even sitting still, happily munching pizza, he looked like a cougar barely leashed. Or a bear. It was hard to pick an animal for Evan.

  His dark eyebrows rose. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Animals.” Heat flared into her face, warming her. “I’m thinking about getting a cat.” Oh, she was such a liar.

  “Hmm. Cats are nice.” He looked around the pristine kitchen. “Remember that old tabby we found and brought home to Miss A right about when we both were leaving?”

  Michelle grinned, taking another bite. “I do. Raider was back visiting, and didn’t he give the cat some Latin-sounding name?”

  “Yeah. You and I just called him Fred. I think that name stuck.” Evan chuckled. “I wonder how many pets Miss A has adopted through the years? I heard last month she had a couple of kids bring baby porcupines without a mama home to her.”

  Michelle winced, relaxing for the first time that day—probably thanks to the red wine she’d opened to go with the pizza. “I talked to Miss A last week, and she said the quills were becoming a problem already.” Miss A could handle anything. Even two of her kids falling in love and then splitting up. How many times had Michelle cried on Miss A’s shoulder after Evan had left for his last tour of duty? She’d stayed in Kentucky for a couple of years after Evan had left before heading to Oregon for a fresh start. Miss A had said things would work out however they’d work out. “I’m happy, Evan,” Michelle murmured.

  He sobered, his gaze darkening to a midnight hue of blue. “Without me.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Without worrying so much all the time whether you’ll make it home and who you’ll be when you do.” It hurt her to say the words, but she’d never been able to lie to him. Had never wanted to.

  To her surprise, he nodded. “I get it and don’t blame you. I worried about who I was last time I came home, which was why I decided to find another path. I’ve done my duty.” He looked around the kitchen. “I know I told you I was done before, and I even tried to make it work.”

  “You weren’t done.” That had lasted almost a month before he’d gone back to his unit, most likely very much needed. She’d never begrudged him his path. “It’s okay if you’re never done. You are who you are.” Letting him go had hurt more than she’d thought possible, but she was okay now, although she wouldn’t put herself through that pain again. She had no doubt his sheriff job was temporary, much like the mechanic job he’d taken way back when, before the lure of the marines called him back.

  His broad chest lifted in an inhale, which he slowly let out. “You’ve made a nice home here.”

  Had she? The apartment was warm and comfortable, and she had plenty of room to work on her comics. Did it feel like an actual home? With Evan sitting across from her, calm and perceptive for now, the place actually seemed different. More welcoming. “What’s your apartment like in Washington?” she asked, wanting to know more about him before he left again.

  His grin was qui
ck and fleeting. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Probably lawn furniture and takeout boxes filled a small one-bedroom that somehow still smelled good and like him. No doubt the lease was just for six months. She studied him, so big and strong and Evan. “It is good to see you.” Maybe she could find final closure on him and stop comparing every guy she dated to her first love. It’d be a great help if her pulse would stop racing and her body rioting at having him near. She took a deep drink of the potent wine. Yeah. Like that was going to help. She ran a finger across the scar on his knuckles. “This is new.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Sharp blade.” He lifted a wide shoulder. “I had my hand around the asshole’s neck, so can’t blame him too much.” When she removed her hand, he leaned toward her. “It happened two years ago, a world away from here, Peaches.”

  Her phone buzzed and she yanked it from her back pocket, hoping it was Jayleen. She glanced at the screen and faltered before answering. “Hi, Mike.” Evan’s eyebrows rose again, and she tried not to squirm in her seat.

  “Hey. I just finished work and was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner,” Mike said, traffic sounds around him as he no doubt drove away from the hospital.

  She cleared her throat. “I, ah, can’t tonight. How about I give you a call tomorrow?”

  “No problem. Talk to you then.” He clicked off.

  She gingerly set the phone down on her leg.

  Evan took a drink of his wine. “Mike?”

  She swallowed. “Yeah. He’s a physical therapist at the hospital. We met at a cooking class.” Mike was a few years older than she, established, and stable. Plus he had a jawline like Jensen Ackles and the body of a lean swimmer. Not nearly as broad as Evan, but in great shape. On the down side, he’d invited her to go jogging with him, and she’d rather clean gutters than jog.

  “Is it serious?” Evan asked, his voice just a mite too calm.

  She fiddled with her wineglass. “Not yet, but it could be.” Maybe. She’d never been able to get serious with anybody after him. Pushing her plate away, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “I see.” He stood and took his plate to the sink to rinse and place in the dishwasher.

  She already knew that he wasn’t dating anybody. A ding from her phone caught her attention, and she read quickly. “My boss said I can have the week off. It’s the slow season at the restaurant, anyway.” If it wasn’t football season, it was the slow season at the sports bar and restaurant. She stood with her plate and handed it over silently to Evan. “I can check the other pawnshops myself tomorrow. You don’t have to stay away from work.”

  He finished and turned to face her, crossing his arms. “I’m not leaving you until I know that Joey Bandini and his buddy are far from here.”

  Yeah, she’d figured. “Fine, but the couch is lumpy.” Like he’d fit there.

  “I’ve slept on worse,” he countered, his stance relaxing. “You gonna tuck me in?”

  * * *

  Well after midnight, Evan kicked his legs over the end of the sofa, grimacing as he tried to awaken his tingling foot. The couch was made for a much smaller person. He tried to turn over and nearly face-planted on the coffee table. Muttering, he shoved the blanket off and sat up, rolling his neck.

  Maybe he should go for a run and tire himself out. His skin felt too tight with Michelle sleeping in the other room so close to him. The scent of wild lilacs surrounded him, providing both an exhilaration and a comfort he’d missed more than he’d realized. If he left, he’d leave her unprotected, so that couldn’t happen. Though he didn’t think Bandini would return, he couldn’t be sure.

  So he flopped back down on the lumpy sofa and extended his legs over the armrest. His other foot started to fall asleep. Closing his eyes, he practiced deep breaths, the way the last shrink, an expert in PTSD, had taught him to do. One by one, he relaxed his muscles, head to toe. The base of the sofa protested beneath him. His shoulder hung off the side and he tried to press his body into the sofa back, ignoring the fact that Michelle was in a perfectly good bed. He’d peeked earlier. It was a queen, and his legs would still stick over the end, but it had to be more comfortable than the stupid sofa.

  He finally dropped off to sleep, and the nightmare that took him was a scene that had actually happened.

  “You don’t have to go,” Raider said to him, standing on the edge of the tarmac.

  Evan looked at the closest thing he’d ever had to a big brother. Raider was tall with sharp features, his part-Japanese heritage giving him an intense look. “It’s my team, Raid. They need me.”

  Raider nodded, looking toward the silent plane waiting. “I understand.” Raider worked for the HDD and no doubt had missions of his own to handle. “I don’t think she’ll wait this time.”

  “I know.” Evan turned to see Michelle step out of the truck and walk toward him, looking like any man’s best dream with her round curves in a flowing blue dress, her hair wild around her stunning face. She walked toward him, her eyes bright, tears in them. “I haven’t been all the way right in a while, and it’s probably going to get worse. She needs better—she needs stability.” He didn’t have that in him right now.

  Raider pulled him close for a hug. “Call if you need me.” Patting Michelle’s shoulder, he strode back to wait for her in the truck.

  Evan turned to face her, the smell of lilacs hitting him hard. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled, a sad smile, and caressed her hand along his jaw. “Don’t be sorry for being who you are. I’ll miss you.”

  It was goodbye, and he knew it. Duty pulled him in one direction and love the other. His team was in trouble, and it was life-or-death. Leaving her like this felt the same. He couldn’t ask her to wait—not again. His chances of making it back weren’t good, and the mission was a long one, so he couldn’t even give her a return date if he did survive. “I’ll always love you,” he murmured, leaning down for a kiss.

  She opened for him, so sweet and giving. “Me too.” Then she stepped away, her shoulders straight. “I’ll wait for you.”

  The words filled him, catching him off guard. Filling parts of him he hadn’t realized existed. His duty didn’t fulfill her needs, and he knew it. She needed a home and a family and safety, after her unsafe childhood. If he could give her none of those things, he had to let her go. “No.” The word nearly killed him. “I’m going on an extended mission, and it could be years, Michelle. There’s no waiting for me.” Then he hit her with the full truth. “I’m never going to be done.”

  Pain filled her eyes, but no surprise. “You’re such a butthead. I’m going to do what you said—I’m going to move on.”

  He grasped her shoulders, pulling her close. “Make the life that you want and do it now. Don’t wait around for anybody, ever again. You deserve everything.” A part of him wanted to stay with her and turn his back on his men. But he couldn’t do it. More than one of his teammates had saved his life, and now it was his turn to repay their loyalty and save them. “Go. Now.” He turned her and gently pushed her toward Raider, who’d make sure she was okay.

  Watching her walk away was the hardest thing he ’d ever done, and he’d once had to hike five miles after being stabbed in a kidney. Even that was nothing close to the pain he felt saying goodbye to her. He’d gotten on that plane, flown across the world, and then faced hell.

  He sat up, awake, before another nightmare could begin. Sweat dotted his bare chest and he wiped it off, twisting to sit on the sofa. There would be no more sleep tonight. Sometimes he could sense the worst nightmares coming and wake himself up, and here he was. Unfortunately, he couldn’t go running, although dawn had just started to peek through the blinds in the kitchen.

  Quiet surrounded him and he took several deep breaths to even out his system.

  A noise caught his attention from the hallway. It was late for a neighbor to be arriving home. He partially turned his head, his body going on full alert.

  Warning ticked thro
ugh him just as the front door blew open, splintering so quickly one shard cut across his pinkie. He jumped up just in time to catch the glint of light off a silver gun.

  Ducking his head, he charged.

  Chapter Five

  A loud crash awoke Michelle and she bolted from the bed, her heart pounding. What the heck? She removed the baseball bat from beneath her bed and ran for the door, yanking it open in time to see Evan tackle another man so hard they both flew into the hallway.

  A second intruder, a blond male around forty years old, dressed all in black, slid by them, gun out, his gaze following the other two men. He was thin but held the gun with control.

  Michelle barreled forward, already swinging the bat at his hand, fear making her movements quick. He turned at the last second to face her, but not fast enough. The bat smashed his wrist, and the gun flew across the room. His light blue eyes widened and he howled, grabbing his arm with his free hand and drawing it to his chest.

  She lifted the bat, panting wildly and swung again, nailing him in the upper thigh. He yelped and went down to his other knee, inching away from her. “Evan?” she called, edging around the wounded man, panic rippling over her skin.

  Evan and the other man crashed back through the doorway, landing on the coffee table and shattering the glass. Michelle turned away to protect her eyes, and the man on the floor went for her legs. She struck his rib cage with the bat, fighting, but he grabbed it with his unbroken arm and threw it into the kitchen.

  She yelled as she fell, punching on the way down. Evan and the other man rolled across the glass and back into the hallway, striking and struggling for control.

  The guy grabbed her hair and pulled, whipping pain along her skin. She smacked his hand away, quickly pivoting and aiming for his damaged wrist. He backed away, his gaze wild on her.

  The ruckus in the hallway subsided and Evan, bare chested, with fury darkening his high cheekbones, strode back inside, his sweats loose and dotted with blood. A wound bled freely from the left side of his rib cage. “You okay?”