Taste Me Deadly (Sensory Ops)

by Duncan, Nikki

  “Did the doctor say when they’d have test results?”

  “Tomorrow hopefully. They’re putting a rush on them given Ruby’s condition.” Grey lifted the papers she’d been given. Wincing when the move put pressure on the bruise, she ripped off the Band-Aid. “While I wait I have homework and an appointment for a psych evaluation.”

  “Is that such a great idea?”

  “A psych eval?” She dropped the bandage and cotton ball in the trash can as they turned for the next level. “I can’t exactly avoid it.”

  “I can’t imagine they’ll go easy with the questions.”

  “Your concern is touching, Liam, but I don’t have a family history of mental breakdowns to worry about.” And I’m not a stranger to a therapist’s couch.

  His eyes crinkled a tad, suggesting the tiniest of smiles might grace his mouth. The man had a beautiful smile. “You know that’s not what I mean. I’m not fishing for secrets.”

  She shrugged, but said nothing.

  “I worry that the questions, how you answer them, will bring danger closer.”

  “You’re seeing conspiracies where there are none. Jessup’s a murderous ass, but he’s not powerful enough to have the hospital staff in his pocket.”

  Grey brushed her fingers over Liam’s, curling the tips enough to create a hook of sorts. She stopped, maintaining her touch. He turned and faced her with a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher. Then he quirked a brow in a way that deepened the vertical line in his forehead. He was intense, but the line made him approachable, because it showed her his concern when his words didn’t.

  “Besides, I’ve had five years to perfect the art of a lie.”

  “So I shouldn’t believe anything you say?”

  “The only lie I ever told you was my name.” Nerves set in and had her fidgeting with Liam’s fingers.

  “As I recall, you never told me anything more.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “Now, seeing you as a devoted sister willing to risk herself and remembering the vivacious mystery woman from Vegas, I find myself growing curious.”

  “About?”

  “Which woman is the real one?”

  “Is a stairwell really the place for marital confessions?”

  Without releasing her hand, he set his free hand on her waist and backed her toward the banister. “It’s a safer alternative to what I’ve wanted to do with you since you walked into Ruby’s room.”

  Her heart pumped faster. The taste of unquenched passion from earlier lingered between them. Grey swallowed. “Your alternative to the alternative is pretty tempting.”

  “Greycen Burgess, you are the temptation.”

  Greycen Burgess. With two words that sounded distinctly intimate Liam doused her in ice. Moving up a step, she eased away. “Grey Craig,” she corrected.

  The line in Liam’s forehead creased again. His eyes twitched at the corner. “We’re married. Using my name could add a layer of protection.”

  “Not really. It just connects me more closely to you, which would tell Jessup’s people exactly where to look.” Regret set in and immediately had her wanting to retract her argument. That had sounded like an assumption she’d be staying with him. Talk about dangerous. “We should get back to Ruby.”

  “Aidan wouldn’t have left her alone.”

  She looked over her shoulder as she moved ahead of Liam on the stairs. “While I appreciate his help I don’t want to rely on a brother-in-law I don’t know or your friends who have no reason to care.”

  “They’ll care because I care.”

  That was the exact logic that didn’t compute. What kind of people took someone in just because a friend asked them to? If Liam had those friends it had to say something about him as a man. To Grey, it said he was the kind of man she should never have said “hello” to, let alone “I do”.

  “Don’t you have jobs? How can so much of your time be spent here?”

  “I have vacation time coming.”

  “And Aidan?”

  “He’s working. Thanks to technology we don’t have to be in our office all day to do our jobs.”

  “It has to be easier, though.”

  “We’re in the field more than you might think.” At Ruby’s floor Liam opened the door and checked the hall before allowing Grey to pass. “You said I could tell them. Are you trying to get rid of us?”

  “Of course not!” She squeaked louder than she’d intended.

  “That was convincing.”

  “I’m sure your ego can survive the hit.”

  “But can our marriage?”

  Their marriage, if it could be said they really had one, was a topic best discussed later. Much later. “What happened in Vegas really should stay in Vegas.”

  “Shouldas, couldas and wouldas tend to follow us until we deal with them.”

  “Ours are going to have to wait a little longer.” Grey pushed open the door to Ruby’s room. A wall of white-coated men and women surrounded Ruby. Aidan stood by the head of the bed looking fiercely protective.

  An older woman, clearly the one in charge, explained Ruby’s injuries. They launched into a discussion about treatments and recovery times.

  The white coats blurred. The walls trembled and moved in, shrinking, depleting the oxygen levels. Grey tried to focus on what was being said about her sister, but nothing penetrated. There were too many people. Ruby was vulnerable. Grey was vulnerable.

  She’d made a habit of avoiding crowds and this was a faceless one that could hide a killer.

  Sound buzzed. Heat spread. Dizziness swarmed. She recognized the signs of an approaching panic attack and knew there was no stopping it. She swayed.

  The papers slid from her hands.

  Liam’s large hands landed on her waist an instant before she collapsed against him. Carrying her as much as he supported her, he led her to the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

  The confined space was no better than the crowded room. There was no escape and one of Jessup’s people could be out there. Grey shook with her uselessness.

  Liam turned her to face him, but he offered no platitudes or advice on calming down. Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her, held her close. Instinct said to fight, to resist. Then his warmth penetrated the chill of terror. His steady heartbeat encouraged hers to match its pace. As smoothly as he could lead her across a dance floor he was leading her from a scary abyss.

  “I should have stayed in Vegas. Gotten Micah to help coordinate this long distance.”

  “That might have been safer.”

  “Or it could have drawn someone to me and no one would be here to watch Ruby.”

  “So you’re glad we’re here.”

  “And in case I forget to say it, I appreciate the protection.” It was the only admission she could afford. Her resistance, at least for the moment, was gone, because the whole situation was an emotional blender capable of stealing dreams faster than Jafar.

  Hours had passed with Grey reading pamphlets and Liam doing research on organ donation. They talked about small things like Grey’s life in Vegas and they argued over what to watch on TV—not that Liam cared what she watched as long as she was there.

  “It makes sense for you to stay with me.” Liam turned toward his car.

  “It’s not right.” She cut toward hers.

  He took her hand and pulled her behind him. “We’re married. Spending the last two years apart wasn’t right.”

  “We barely know each other.” She pulled free and turned, again, toward her car.

  He reached out and grabbed her hand, again stopping her. “Which we need to remedy.”

  “Not by living together while I’m in town.” She stepped back, shook her head firmly.

  The tug-of-wills game they had been playing since he suggested she stay with him had reached ridiculous levels. Grabbing her hand again, this time more firmly, he turned her to face him. “What are you really afraid of, Grey?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bul
lshit.” He gave her no time to react before continuing. “Whether you’re afraid of Jessup or facing me alone, something’s got you scared.”

  “Then it must be Jessup, because you don’t scare me.”

  “That’s convenient for you.” Her head dropped at a slight angle to the left. He went on. “You scare the shit out of me.”

  Her lack of a quick quip painted a smile on his heart. She was as unsure of them as he was. Preying on her momentary weakness, he led her to his car.

  The idea of learning they were incompatible in the real world scared him.

  The idea of realizing he’d been faithful to a woman who wanted nothing to do with him scared him.

  The idea of losing her again, more than anything else, terrified him.

  He was opening the passenger door of his car when she pulled her hand away. “I can drive myself.”

  “You could.” He pointed to the waiting seat. “You’re not going to.”

  “Liam.” She dropped a hand on the doorframe and met his stare. “There’s protection and then there’s overbearing. You’re crossing the line.”

  He again pointed to the seat, this time dropping his head to acknowledge her point. “You’re right.”

  Grey nodded and slipped in. Round what-the-hell-ever-number-they-were-on was happening on his turf.

  Liam slid behind the Chrysler 300’s steering wheel, loving as always the way the SRT8 seats hugged his sides. He spared Grey a quick glance as he started the car and pulled out of his spot. The look on her face—satisfied victory—made it clear she expected him to go to where she’d parked. He instead left the hospital.

  “Hey! My car.”

  “Will still be there tomorrow.”

  “You said I could drive myself.”

  “And I still think you could. If I’d let you.”

  “Of all the overbearing, chauvinistic…”

  “Asshole ways to behave,” he finished for her. Pleasure had him wanting to grin. Self-preservation had him holding back. He was picking a big enough fight by ignoring her. Flaunting the perverse fun he was having would only amplify her anger. They were going to learn about each other under strained circumstances and he knew himself well enough to know his easygoing side would only dominate for so long.

  “I liked you better in Vegas.” She crossed her arms and slumped into the seat.

  “Me too.”

  “Then act more like you did then.”

  He reached over and untucked her left hand. Lacing their fingers, he raised her hand and kissed the back of it. “Until we know you and Ruby are safe you’re stuck with this version of me.”

  Looking at the hand he held, her cheeks flushed pink. She chewed on her bottom lip, clearly worrying over what to say or do. She could say anything she wanted, though. He wasn’t giving her many choices on what to do.

  “Are you sure Tyler will stay all night?”

  “You heard him. He has no one to make demands on his evenings.”

  “I heard him.” She shook her head. “I also noticed he barely looked up from whatever he was doing on his tablet.”

  Now Liam did smile. Most people couldn’t say what color eyes Tyler had because he so rarely dragged them from his tablet or computer. It didn’t make him less aware of his surroundings and the people in them. “I guarantee he can recall and describe every person and moment in his day.”

  “How? He never looks up.”

  Liam shrugged. “I stopped trying to figure it out. It’s more fun to watch people underestimate him in that regard.”

  “I still should have stayed the night.”

  Liam squeezed her hand in a gesture of support and understanding he hoped she’d accept. “I get that, but you’re trying to be accepted as a living donor.”

  “So?”

  “So, having a little support through the process couldn’t be bad.”

  “I’m fine on my own.”

  “When’s the last time you slept? You drove over thirty hours, only stopping for gas, and you’ve been at the hospital for twelve hours. By my calculation you’re working on two days.”

  “I guess I am a little tired.” Falling victim to the suggestion, Grey gave a large, jaw-popping yawn. “Though I’ll be surprised if I really sleep.”

  “How about food? It’s been a while since that cafeteria lunch.”

  Her stomach rumbled in answer. She shook her head and pinched her lips tightly. She may argue that he’d acted heavy-handed by driving and insisting she stay at his house, but he was trying to take care of her.

  Awareness moved around her in the way her shoulders shifted back and her chin rose as he pulled up to the security gate at his division’s entrance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He smiled before rolling his window down to greet the security guard.

  “Good evening, Mr. Burgess.” The older man leaned against the door window. His arthritic swollen fingers shook against the frame.

  “Mr. Lambert. How are you?”

  “Old and tired.” Mr. Lambert smiled at Grey. “You don’t get many ladies for company. Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Grey, my wife.”

  “Liam,” she moaned. “Stop doing that.”

  Mr. Lambert laughed. “What did you do? Elope? Is that where you’ve been the last couple days?”

  “Something like that.” Liam winked and then grew serious. “Do me a favor, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  “If anyone comes by asking for Grey or claiming to know her, let me know. Right away.”

  “She got trouble?”

  “Maybe. Just taking precautions.”

  The other guards who worked the gate wouldn’t have left it at that, but Mr. Lambert had spent his adult life in the Marines and then Miami P.D. A Homicide retiree, he’d seen some of the ugliest parts of life. He and Liam had shared enough bonding beers in the clubhouse for the man to know Liam wouldn’t make the request unless it really mattered.

  “I’ll call your cell and make sure the others know to do the same.”

  “Thank you.” Liam said his good-byes and drove toward the opening gate.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little over the top? And I’m actually not referring to yet another intro as your wife.”

  “You are my wife.”

  “It’s just a piece of paper.”

  “One that will give you extra protection and benefits without explanations.”

  “Why couldn’t you just say I’m a friend?”

  He’d known things wouldn’t be easy, that they had everything to learn about each other. Exhaustion clung to them both so he was working hard to hold back the bite that came too easily when he got tired. Exhaustion topped with her fighting him at every development bordered a thin line laced with gunpowder. One wrong comment would spark the match.

  “You’re more valuable as my wife. And it halts wagging tongues faster.”

  “Instead of wondering where we met and if we’re having sex they’re wondering when we got married and where I’ve been.”

  “But I’m more inclined to fight for a wife than a woman I’m dating. Trust me, it’s easier to be upfront and say you’ve been living out of town.”

  “Bullshit.” She used the tone he had earlier and, like he had, she continued before he could say anything. “Whether you’re lying to yourself or to me, your logic’s missing.”

  “Only because you don’t want to see it, Grey.” She was family. No one messed with his family.

  Chapter Four

  Whatever argument she’d thought to make fell away when he turned into a driveway. Being in a gated community with a security guard instead of a code pad had been her first clue that he had money. Then there were the houses. Immaculately landscaped and grand. Still, a part of her had kept hoping he was pulling a prank or that it was a safe house. Anything was better than thinking he really expected her to stay where she didn’t belong.

  And she hadn’t belonged in a place like his house on the best day of her life
.

  The car rolled down a long drive that forked off from a circle at the front to go straight to the back of the house. The stamped design that left grooves in the concrete made a brick road sound beneath the tires that bumped lightly over them. She hadn’t noticed Liam pushing a button, but as he rounded the back corner of the house the garage door was reaching the top of its track.

  The three-car space had been finished and painted, but not so much that the heavy support beams had been covered. Dark, glossy wood contrasted with bright gray walls. Just as the project sitting on the workbench seemed to be waiting, recessed lighting waited overhead. Tools, tidily hanging in straight rows, gleamed with the shine of newness.

  “Do many projects here?”

  “Yes.” He came to a stop beside a white, two-seater convertible that looked more like a chick car than something Liam would drive. “I was taught to do things myself around the house.”

  “Clearly you can afford to pay people.”

  “Everyone says that.”

  She turned, mouth agape, and shook her head. How could he pretend surprise that people would think he had money?

  “Okay, yes,” he conceded while turning off the car and pressing the button to lower the garage door. “I can afford to pay for any repair needed; I wouldn’t have bought the place if I couldn’t.”

  “But?”

  He leaned across her, holding her gaze for a moment when his nose was close enough to brush her. “But I’m able to afford them and this place because of the money I save doing the work myself.”

  He opened her door and leaned back, unconcerned with whatever she might argue next. The man made no sense. “This is more than a few dollars saved on odd jobs.”

  “There was also an inheritance that did well on some stocks. And it could be said I got a killer’s discount. A financial trifecta.” He nodded toward the house. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  “A killer’s discount?” Questions and uncertainty flailed in her mind. His jacket was high quality and his car had every gadget possible, but she’d never have guessed he lived in such a high-end place. He came across as so normal.

  “The place was seized in a prostitution and murder investigation we worked. It made it a tough sell.” He led her through the laundry room, that was an actual room, and into the kitchen. She was struck again by the magnitude of contradictions that surrounded him. Her heart raced.