by Johnson, Liz
Her hair smelled of tropical fruit, and he breathed her in. Her slender shoulders trembled in his embrace, and once again, he felt her fear, knew her terror.
But he couldn’t stop it.
At least not yet.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Anything to keep her tears at bay.
She shook her head, curling even further into his arms until her head lay against his throat. His pulse picked up.
He hadn’t held a woman like this in a long time. It’d been at least four years. Probably a whole lot longer than that. He’d never done this with Robin, who he’d seen on and off for a year. She wasn’t big into open displays of affection, which was good for him because he much preferred keeping his distance.
If she didn’t get close, he couldn’t let her down.
If she never relied on him, he couldn’t fail to be there for her.
He’d made this mistake before Robin, with Phoebe. And he wouldn’t do it again.
Staci sniffed, and he leaned back, hooking a finger under her chin. She kept her eyelids down, but there were no tears clinging to her long lashes. And the tip of her nose wasn’t red.
She hadn’t broken down yet.
“I got a call today from one of my linguistics instructors at Annapolis.”
Her eyes flew open so that her lashes mingled with the long bangs hanging over her forehead, and he battled the desire to brush them out of her way. “What did he say?”
“He thinks he translated the words on the map.” With the hand not holding her close, he reached into the cargo pocket of his pants and pulled out the page of scribbled notes. “I was hoping you might be able to give it some context.”
She grabbed for the page. Holding it beneath her nose, her eyes roved back and forth under tense eyebrows. After several long seconds, she shook her head and looked back up to meet his gaze. “The second will be first?”
“If I say that the word translated as second is usually used to connote the second in command, does that help?”
Closing her eyes, she mumbled the phrase over and over. “What about the first? Does that mean the leader or just the first in a series?”
“That’s not clear.”
She stretched her legs out and rolled out of his hold, which left him with an odd feeling of emptiness. He tried not to focus on it, instead watching her face work through the words and follow his line of thinking as he’d rearranged the words. “You think it might be missing a line?”
He chewed on his bottom lip. “Maybe.”
She nodded, talking it through. “But the paper wasn’t torn, so if that’s true then it would’ve had to have been left only half-written when it was given to the man who came into my cell.”
“Unless he wrote it, and hadn’t had a chance to finish.”
Her lips puckered in thought and she scratched at the scar in front of her ear. “And is it saying that the second will be the target of the attack? Or that it’s just somehow tied to him?”
“Okay, let’s say it is complete and that the deputy is the one who’s going to be attacked. Who could it be referring to?”
She ran her tongue over her teeth before spitting out ideas as they seemed to come to her. “The deputy mayor? The second in command at Coronado?”
Crawford. He’d just spent all afternoon with the guy. The captain wasn’t his favorite, but he was a smart man and an accomplished sailor. And he sure didn’t deserve to be the target of whatever was going to go down.
“The vice president?” She blinked after the words popped out, as though she wasn’t quite sure where they’d come from. “It couldn’t go that high, could it?”
His legs twitched, and he pushed himself off the couch to pace the width of the room. Head bowed and hands clasped behind his back, he stalked from wall to wall, hoping for a bolt of inspiration. An answer to at least one of their many questions.
Without stopping he glanced at her, her head still bent over the paper with the translation written on it.
“It’s not safe for you out there.” She glanced up but didn’t speak. “I mean, after what happened today and not knowing how far or deep this thing goes.”
“You’re right.”
He opened his mouth to argue his point, but stopped short. She’d agreed with him. Of course she had. He was right.
“But I can’t stay locked up in this house. Refusing to leave here isn’t going to do anything but make Ashley curious why I never go out. Not to mention, I can’t help you identify this guy if I’m stuck here.”
She was right.
He let out a hard breath through his nose.
He didn’t have to like that she was right. He just had to figure out how to keep her safe. Hiding her away on the base wasn’t going to do it. He needed a practical way to protect her.
“To start with, you’re not going to go anywhere without telling me where you’re headed.”
She looked about ready to argue that she wasn’t sixteen, but instead lowered and lifted her lashes over those giant green eyes, which made her look about that old.
“Second, I’m going to be by your side as much as I can.” He marched some more, stamping away the feather-light flicker in his chest that suggested he might like being by her side for more than just her protection. “And if I can’t be with you, I’ll find someone who can be.”
“That’s not practical, and you know it. Ashley is going to know something’s off if you quit going to work and start sending SEALs by every day.”
“I don’t care.” But he did care.
If he had only Ashley to worry about, he’d have already told her. On any normal day, she could handle the danger with practicality and calm. Her years of working for battered women’s shelters meant she was accustomed to dealing with women hiding from dangerous men. But at the moment she carried the most precious cargo in the world, and her emotions were already pulled taut in Matt’s absence.
Standing in the middle of the room, he stared at Staci. She didn’t blink or look away. She’d survived a Middle Eastern jail cell, a bullet wound and nearly being blown up. She looked small, but she was tough. Tougher than maybe he’d given her credit for.
They stared each other down in silence until he finally said. “Okay. Since I can’t be with you every minute until we catch this guy, tomorrow we start training.”
“For what?”
“Self-defense.”
EIGHT
Staci pulled on the hem of her yellow tank top, wishing for all the world that it would stay a little lower over her hips. Not that she wasn’t fully covered. Her black knit workout pants, tennis shoes and top were completely appropriate.
Except that she was going to have to get into close quarters with Tristan.
In that moment, a burka wouldn’t have covered enough.
He led the way into a large workout room at the private gym close to his house. He’d said that lots of sailors used these facilities in the early mornings, but by the late morning, they were nearly deserted.
Free weights and machines lined all of the walls except for the corner, which boasted a thick blue mat about the size of the bedroom she was staying in. The adjacent walls were also covered in the padding. Just off the blue pad, a punching bag still swayed where a guy not much bigger than her unwound thick tape from his fists.
Was she really up for this?
Tristan dropped his bag on the wooden floor off the mat and started stretching.
“Want to loosen up?”
She set her bag on the floor next to his and followed him into the center of the mat.
The boxer eyed her as he tucked his gloves into his bag, and she tugged on the edge of her shirt again, looking to Tristan for some sort of encouragement.
As if he could read her mind, he stepped in front of her, blocking the man’s view. And hers.
He gave her a soft smile as he approached. “We’re going to take it easy today, all right?”
She nodded.
“Do you have any t
raining in self-defense?”
“No.”
His smile grew wide. “No wonder you look like a palm tree in Alaska.”
“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifted both shoulders, stretching his shirt until she didn’t know how it stayed together. “You’re just a little uptight, like this isn’t in your comfort zone.”
Well, it didn’t take a genius to know that. She wasn’t a violent, physical person. And she hadn’t spent so much time with a man since Chris. It was just easier not to think about the husband and family she’d never have if she didn’t stay in close proximity with men.
Except, ever since she’d met Tristan, she’d let him tote her around and hold her close without considering it for longer than a blink of her eye.
She’d needed his comfort the night before.
But today? Today she felt vulnerable for a completely different reason. Even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
He brushed his hair off his forehead. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’ll do great. We’ll take it easy today. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that.”
His definition of taking it easy and hers were probably very different, but she agreed anyway. “All right.”
“First, you have to recognize that you’re probably not going to beat this guy on sheer strength.”
“Says who?”
He picked up her arm at her wrist, and when he let go, it flopped to her side like limp spaghetti.
“All right. So I won’t try to overpower him. Got it.” She couldn’t help the smirk that worked its way onto her mouth. “What’s next?”
“Next, you do everything that you can to get away. Your goal isn’t to win. It’s to run.”
“Got it. Next?”
Now his smirk matched hers. “Not so fast, speedy. Let’s practice.”
“You want me to run?” She hated running. Always had. It was about as fun as rubbing jalapeño pepper juice in her eye. Maybe not even that fun. She’d nearly failed high school P.E. because she couldn’t finish the mile run. A mile walk? Sure. A run? Not unless someone was chasing her.
But someone was now.
He shook his head and chuckled. “No running yet. Let’s start with the first things first.” He took a few steps back from her. “If you think someone is following you or someone is about to attack you from the front, the best thing to do is to get loud. Attract attention.” His eyes turned dark, his brows hooding the blue storms below. “We already know this guy wants it to look like an accident. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself. So if he’s coming after you, get loud. Got it?”
“Got it.”
A quirk of his grin caught her off guard. “Now let’s hear it. I’m going to come after you, and I want you to practice yelling.”
After two years in a country where she had been expected to be both silent and invisible around men, she balked at the command. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Whatever comes to mind.” He circled his hands in a rowing motion, inviting her to come at him. “Come on.”
She swallowed and took a step toward him. “Hey.”
He bent over at the waist, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not inviting me over for tea.” He snickered. “I’m a threat to you. I want you out of the picture, and the only way to protect yourself is to draw enough attention that I’ll be forced to back off.”
He took a menacing step toward her, and she sucked in a quick breath before expelling it with all of her might. “Back off.”
He jumped, his grin spreading, showing off his straight, white teeth. “Better. Now try again.”
She squeezed her eyebrows together and wrinkled her nose, drawing as much venom as she could from the terror of a very real pipe bomb and hit-and-run. Her heart pounded, a throbbing beginning at the point right between her eyes. “I said, back off!”
“Everything okay over there, L.T.?”
She jerked toward the woman who had poked her head into the workout room from the front desk area. The woman’s hands were balled into fists, her stance announcing that she was ready for anything.
L.T.’s smile came back even broader than before. “And just like that, you’ve drawn enough attention to get help and shown him that you’re not going to be an easy target.”
The pretty lady with mocha skin pointed directly at Staci. “You okay, honey?”
“Yes. Thank you. Just practicing.”
“Holler if you need something.” The woman disappeared back to her post at the front desk.
“Pretty good, Hayes.” She rewarded his compliment with a smile. “Step one. Get loud. This could be enough to scare him off. I hope so. And if it’s enough to distract him, or throw him off, then you start running.”
“Do we have to practice running?”
He shook his head. “Not today. We’ll stick to indoor training today.”
Did that mean that running would be outdoors? This just kept getting better.
“So what if I can’t get away? What if there’s no one around to hear and nowhere to run?”
He stepped toward her, invading her space and making her look all the way up just to watch his face. Her heart hammered in her chest. Of course, this was just practice. There was no need for her body to suddenly feel as tight as a violin string.
She shook out her arms, taking a couple quick breaths through her mouth.
He looked down the slope of his nose and over the rounded tip. “If you have nowhere to go, then you have to make me think attacking you is a bad decision. Let me know you’re not going to let me steamroll over you.”
“Wouldn’t pepper spray work? I bet that would make you back off.”
He shook his head. “It would. But only if used right. If you were to get flustered or scared and dropped it, you’ve given me another weapon to use against you. And there are steep penalties in California if you use pepper spray in a situation that isn’t explicitly for self-defense. Let’s stick to using weapons that you have on hand.”
She leaned in even closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “You’re going to teach me how to use my hands as a weapon? That could come in handy.”
“Not quite. But you can use them to push me away.”
Rats. That meant putting her hands on him. Something that was at once terrifying and far too appealing. Or maybe it was the appeal of touching him again that terrified her. She’d enjoyed the time in his arms the night before more than she wanted to admit even to herself. Tucked away in his embrace, she’d been safe, secure from whoever was after her and whatever that man was willing to do.
In his arms, she’d let her mind roam to dreams that were far better left undreamed. Thoughts of a future with a man who held her like that weren’t safe. They weren’t realistic. They weren’t helpful.
They made her feel like every other girl who could dare to dream of a family of her own. But she wasn’t like every other girl.
“Go on. Push me.”
It couldn’t hurt, could it? She needed the practice, as he’d said. She might need to use this someday. In a situation where it wasn’t Tristan’s arresting eyes staring down at her.
And that moment could come sooner than she hoped.
It was now or never. Taking a fortifying breath, she pressed her hands against his chest but jerked back as soon as her fingers encountered the steely muscles below the surface, her palms on fire.
“It’s all right. You can push me. I’m not going to fall over.”
Right. That’s why she’d pulled back. She was afraid she’d topple a SEAL with her spaghetti muscles.
It certainly wasn’t because of the flames that licked up her arms at the close contact. Or the butterflies that took his presence as a call to flight.
Clearly.
He stepped back into her bubble, and she mirrored his movement, keeping at least a few feet between them. Br
eathing room.
But he chased her, looking anything but an attacker. “Push me harder. Get used to the feel of it.”
Getting used to the feel of anything between them was probably a bad idea. A very bad idea.
*
Tristan held up his hands to demonstrate the movement, flat palms facing away from him. “Don’t try to hit or injure me. You’re just trying to get away, trying to put enough space between us that you can run.”
When she put up her hands to take another try, they trembled.
He dropped his voice, despite the empty room, so that Cassandra at the front desk couldn’t hear. “Are you scared?”
“No.”
He didn’t believe her. And not just because she was a bad liar. Her voice quivered and her chin shook, just enough for him to notice.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not really coming after you. Just think of me as a practice dummy.”
Her lips quirked to the side, a wicked glint appearing in her eye.
He laughed. “I know. I just set myself up for an easy joke. But pretend I didn’t, and just push me away.”
She nodded, her eyes narrowing into slits as she focused her attention on the front of his shirt. Taking three deep breaths, she lunged toward him, pushing into his stomach. As he took a step back to accommodate her action, a grin split her lips.
And then one of her hands slipped off of the flat plane of his belly, her fingers trailing around his waist. With nothing to brace against, she slammed into his chest. He caught his arms around her, holding her steady as his pulse kicked into the next gear.
She stared up at him, her eyes alight with more humor. “Sorry.”
“No problem.”
He should have let her go. He should have just released her. But his arms tightened for a split second, his embrace holding her motionless.
A man could get used to having Staci Hayes in his arms.
“Should I try it again?”
“Right. Yes.” He dropped his arms so quickly that she stumbled backward and only stayed on her feet when he grabbed her shoulders to keep her steady. “Try again. But this time, aim for a higher, wider plane.” He patted his chest with both hands, showing her the target. “Hit me here. You’ll have better leverage and more room to connect.”
