He nudged her shoulder. “Hey. Are you hungry?”
She came awake instantly and jumped up off the couch, shaking her head.
“Damn. I’m sorry.” Brushing one hand through her hair, she blinked herself awake. Soft, blonde layers fell around her flushed and embarrassed face. Even in the darkened room, a blush blossomed up her neck and over her cheeks.
Those green eyes of hers, all dreamy and full of sleep, caught his attention. An arc of energy sizzled between them, knotting his gut as tight as a bowstring. Or maybe it wasn’t his gut....
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep with her. Honest. I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just that, umm—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, not willing to believe what he’d glimpsed in his annoying sidekick. He had to be wrong. There was no way Ember could look like—her. Maybe he was better off when she’d worn all those piercings and dyed her hair black. When she looked like a freak.
Ember still shook her head, trying to clear the sleep. With her hand at the back of her neck and stretching like she was, all those adorable little girl qualities were too close to the surface. The qualified weapons expert was gone. She scrunched her nose, her eyes soft and sleepy in the pale evening light. Green eyes, huh. Just like.... No. Not like hers. Not. Never. No.
He turned toward the kitchen, ignoring the stupid direction his mind had taken. His automatic pilot seemed to have malfunctioned, sending him on another wild goose chase. He adjusted course. “Dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?”
Ember stood unmoving at Nima’s side. The little girl was out for the count and snoring softly into her clenched fist. “Do you think she wears diapers?”
With a glance over his shoulder, Rory focused on his number one responsibility, and it wasn’t Ember. “I doubt it. She’s four. I don’t know how they handle potty training in northern India or Tibet, but she’s old enough to tell us when she has to go.”
“I don’t want her to, you know, get embarrassed if she... if she....” Ember seemed tongue-tied.
“If she has an accident?” Rory supplied the proper toddler jargon his companion had valiantly failed to come up with. “Let’s eat. She’ll wake up when she’s ready.”
“But she’s been asleep for so long.”
“Probably jetlag. Trust me. She’ll be fine.”
“Wow,” Ember whispered when she saw the table ready with dinner. “You cook?”
“And I do windows.” He aimed for sincerity but ended with sarcasm. Ember had a way of making the simplest thing seem like a big deal. Her overuse of the word ‘wow’ annoyed him more than most days.
Mental note to self: cut the poor-me act. She’s smart enough to put two and two together, and you don’t need the BS.
Pulling a chair out for Ember, he seated her before he settled into his. He’d already moved the table where they could keep an eye on Nima while they ate. All the lights in the home were off except for the dim light from the range hood. Dishing a plateful of Chinese chicken salad for Ember, he handed her the oriental dressing he’d made to go along with the main course.
The salad was one thing he could always count on Tyler to eat. It was easy, healthy, and a surefire way to get vegetables into his spunky son without a battle. The already hot, rotisserie chicken from the grocer’s deli-counter made the decision easy. When pressed for time, something quick and filling was the only way to go. Besides, Tyler loved the noodles.
“There’s carrot sticks and cucumber slices if you want any.” He pointed out the relish tray and dished himself a helping of salad.
“Wow,” Ember said again, her mouth full of food. “It’s good.”
Well, of course it’s good. Do you think I feed my son garbage? “It will do.”
Before she took another bite, Ember complimented him again. “No, I mean it. It’s delicious. Where’d you learn to cook?”
Rory sighed, his dismay clear. The answer was obvious. She’d seen him with Tyler, but still she insisted on asking why he had domestic skills. How dumb was she? He paused, his fork of salad halfway to his mouth. “Where do you think?” Again he hoped his tone didn’t sound as sharp to her as it did to him.
She stopped chewing, her voice subdued. “Geez, I’m sorry already.”
Great. Now I’ve hurt her feelings. Hoping to divert her attention, he glanced past Ember to the sleeping child on the couch. “She’s had a rough day. Poor little thing.”
“Wow, has she ever. I wonder what she’ll do when she wakes up.”
And that was the last straw. Enough with the dumb blonde routine. “She’ll be afraid. What do you think?”
Ember dropped her fork. “What is the problem with you? I can’t open my mouth without you jumping down my throat.”
“Think about it, Davis. You saw me at the gym with Tyler. You know darned well where I learned to cook. And how’s a kid supposed to feel after she’s seen her father gunned down?” he hissed. “Why don’t you think before you open your big mouth once in awhile?”
His words stung; he could tell. Her face blanched white. She certainly hadn’t expected a tirade from a colleague. Rory shook his head and focused on his food. Anger at his own big mouth filled him. As good as the meal was a minute ago, it tasted more like cardboard now. Darn. Sometimes he put his foot in it, right up to his knee. And why? Ember was just asking questions. God help him the day the entire team found out he had a son, which would no doubt happen the minute Ember opened her big mouth back at the office, if she hadn’t already. He couldn’t win.
“Listen.” He pursed his lips and did what he did best. Staring at his plate, he apologized to get her off his back. “That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry.”
“You call that an apology? You say all the right words, but you don’t even look at me when you do it?”
So Rory looked at her. Extra dark green shimmered back at him. The flush rising up her neck and blossoming over her cheeks made her a surprising force to be reckoned with. Or maybe it was the fire in her eyes. His breath hitched. He’d never seen her angry before. Or this beautiful. His whole damned body tingled. This kind of attraction had to stop.
“I said I’m sorry. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“First of all.” She leaned closer, her voice low. “I’m not the one making a big deal. You opened that door, buddy. So what if I saw you and Tyler at the gym? What’s so bad about admitting you have a son? He’s a great—”
“Drop it, Davis. You’re the last person I’m discussing him with.” Rory returned to his salad, the conversation ended. He hoped.
She ignored the barb and speared a slice of cucumber with her fork. “I don’t get it.” She nibbled the crunchy vegetable and waited for him to ask.
Fine. Let’s get it out in the open and done with. “Spit it out. What don’t you get?”
Setting her fork on her plate, she rested her chin on interlocked fingers that culminated in trimmed fingernails instead of the thick artificial ones Mother fussed with. Ember’s hands were delicate, slender and clean in comparison. Feminine. In their way, they quietly proclaimed they served an elegant woman. They didn’t fit with her usual bizarre office attire. It irritated him he’d never noticed this detail before. On her Goth days, she should paint them black. Red on her clown days, and for those rare Marilyn Monroe days....
Gah! His brain hopped, skipped, and jumped over those days when it was all he could do to NOT look at her every chance he could. No sense going there.
Dang. I forgot the almonds. Leaning back on his chair to retrieve the small fry pan he’d left cooling on the wooden chopping block, he muttered, “Here. Throw some of these on your salad. They’ll add a nice crunch.”
“See what I mean?” She grinned. “You’ve made a very nice dinner. It’s healthy, it’s crunchy, and it’s—”
“It’s food. Eat.” Rory concentrated on drizzling dressing over his salad. Those darn emerald greens were studying him like he hadn’t been studi
ed in a long time. Ember had sneaked inside his radar. Her next words seemed extra soft, but he could feel those probing lasers.
“It’s like you have a veil of secrecy around you, like you’re this mystery man no one at work really knows.”
He shot her a quick look of annoyance hoping to distract her, but her face lit with mischief. He knew better. There was nothing mysterious about him, just private. She needed to back off.
“I do, huh,” he said while avoiding her stare. Thankfully, her mouth was full of food again. “What do you think they were using back there? Fifty cals? Armor piercing?” he asked, trying to distract her. “Cop killers?”
She scrunched her nose and took a sip of water before she answered. “Oh no, you don’t. I know what you’re doing. You think you can change the subject like you do back at the office, and I’ll forget what we’re talking about.”
“I just think you have an opinion about what happened back there, and I’d like to hear it. You are the weapons proficiency expert, aren’t you?”
“And you’re a father, only no one on The TEAM knows about Tyler, do they?” she countered.
“I’m sure you’ll take care of that, won’t you?” Sarcasm dripped off his lips.
She blinked at that hard truth, digesting what he had and hadn’t said. Her lips formed a perfect O. “Now I get it. You think I told everyone I saw you with Tyler at the gym, don’t you? You think I talked about you behind your back.”
“Let it go, Davis. Drop it. I don’t want to discuss—”
“For your information, I didn’t say a word.” She aimed the tines of her fork at him. “But I’m right. You don’t want anyone to know about Tyler, do you?”
“Like you and Mother don’t sit up there with your heads together and rake everyone over the coals every day? I’ve already caught her going through my personnel files. My son is off limits, do you hear me?” He looked past her to the sleeping child on the couch. He hadn’t intended to raise his voice. Thankfully, Nima didn’t stir.
Ember’s gentle hand on his wrist caught him unprepared. “Geez, Rory. Trust me. I didn’t tell Mother I saw you. I knew you didn’t want anyone to know. I don’t get it, but it’s not my story to tell. And you’re right. I know how she is. She’s a busybody. Alex had a talk with her about the absolute confidentiality of personnel files.”
Rory jerked away, trying to decide if he could believe her. Women could be so damned deceitful and men could be so damned blind. And dumb. It all came down to blood supply. All a good-looking woman had to do was bat her baby greens, blow a kiss, and a guy turned into a blithering idiot. Like he had. Five years ago.
“Since you made dinner, I’ll do dishes,” she said quietly.
He set his plate and fork in the sink with the pans already soaking there. “I need to call Alex. Can you stay awake long enough to watch our little girl out there?”
“Go. Call Alex. I’m sure he’s waiting to hear from you.”
Rory brushed his hand through his hair, frustrated with himself as much as her. The last thing he needed was someone like Ember in his life. She was the key investigative techie on The TEAM and hands down the best in D.C., zany but analytical in her own bizarre way.
Rory recognized her genius, and that’s what concerned him. She’d start asking questions, and he didn’t need a couple of busybodies interfering with his son. Ever. Tyler had already dealt with enough drama and trauma in his short life.
Retreating to one of the back bedrooms, Rory closed the door behind him and dialed his boss’s office number.
Leave it to Alex to be working late. “Stewart.”
“Hey, Boss.” Rory sat at the edge of the bed, his cell phone to his ear. “We’re secure for the night.”
“How is she?”
“She’s fine. She’s been asleep since we got here. Must be because of the time change. What did Mother find out?”
Alex sighed. “Nima Dawa is more than special. Do you know who the Dalai Lama is?”
“Yes. He’s the spiritual leader of the Tibetan people. So?”
“His name is Tenzin Gyatso. He’s the fourteenth Dalai Lama. Some of his followers believe the little girl you’re protecting is his successor.”
“She’s only four, Boss. That’s kind of young, don’t you think?”
“Another reason she needs our protection. Every newspaper in the country is running her story. Her picture is everywhere. Keep her undercover and out of sight.”
“Those guys at the temple weren’t trying to kill her father then, were they?”
“No. Lobsang was nothing but collateral damage.”
Rory blew out a sigh. “Wow.” Darn. I sound like Ember. “Who killed him?”
“Not positive. FBI intel points to a radical group out of China called the Yushu Sangha. They’re vehemently against the notion of a female Dalai Lama. Interpol suspects they’re behind her mother’s early death, but they have no concrete evidence.”
“China took over Tibet in what, the 1950s?” Rory asked.
“Yes, 1951 to be exact. The current Dalai Lama’s government was formally abolished in ’59. He’s been living in exile since.”
“But would a group out of China really assassinate a little girl?”
“You bet. They’re hell bent on their ideals. You know the type. The world’s full of ’em. I’ll let you know what David finds out.”
“He’s still at the temple?”
Alex chuckled. “You know how he is.”
Rory had to smile. David was a devout Buddhist. No doubt he’d chat well into the night with the monks if he could.
“Do you need me to contact your Mrs. Godfrey and tell her what’s happened?” Alex asked quietly.
“Already did. Thanks, though.”
“Hopefully, we can find the people behind this before Tyler’s bedtime tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, Boss. Mrs. Godfrey will stay with him until I get back. She knows the drill. Just glad I can help.”
“How’s Ember?”
“Umm, she’s fine, I guess. Why?”
“Just wondering how she handled her first assignment under fire. It’s been awhile since she’s been on the front line, much less in the middle of a warzone.”
“She did good, Boss. She was right on the ball. Yeah, she did real good.” Rory had to admit. She might be irritating, but she had done well under pressure.
“Okay, then. Sit tight. I’ll be in touch.”
“Will do.” Rory hung up, still thinking how well Ember had responded during the shootout. She’d taken orders without the slightest hesitation. The memory of her climbing over the fence in the middle of all those bushes made him smile. A woman straddling a fence was always worth watching, but especially one with her build and curves. She was no tiny little thing. Ember had a body a man could appreciate, and for all her weird hairdos and ridiculous get-ups, she was tougher than he’d expected. Agile, too.
All those very proper buttons on her white shirt tightened across her bosom, but when she dropped to her knees, well, heck. He could see right down her shirt. It wasn’t silicone jiggling in those triple C pure white cups with light rose-colored trim, a dark mauve rosebud stuck between. Despite the danger they were in, his all-male brain demanded a peek at her nipples. They’d be mauve, too, peaked and pebbled like that rosebud. Had to be. No doubt about it.
Why the heck am I thinking about her nipples? He stowed his phone and went back to the kitchen. Everything had been wiped clean, the dishes washed, and Ember knelt at the open gun safe in the hall, stuffing a backpack. He peered over her shoulder. “What’s up?”
She went on with her packing without looking up. “I found some stuff we’ll need. Burn phones. Extra mags that fit your pistol and mine. Things like that.”
“Good. Bring ’em. Is there another spare backpack in there?”
Ember replied by handing a bag over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” He went back to the kitchen and loaded it with necessities before he returned to th
e hallway. Ember was still on her knees, her head and arms inside the closet. He paused to take in the very attractive curve of her derrière. Dress slacks on a woman, especially one bent over and preoccupied like she was, were always worth looking at. He cocked his head for a better view.
The good thing about her was she was all woman; not the skin and bones version Hollywood portrayed as desirable. The bad thing about Ember was—she was all woman.
Her backside swelled to a nice round bubble, gorgeously balancing her full breasts. Coming or going, she was a sight to behold. His hands filled with the need to reach out and touch. When she pushed back a strand of tangled blonde that had escaped her clip, desire he’d not expected hit his groin—hard. He jerked his eyes away from her. Dessert. Ember was flaming, sexed-up dessert, and he’d been starving for a long time.
He coughed politely to announce his presence, needing to clear out before things got any—harder. “I’m going out to the car. Be right back.” And then I need a cold shower.
She didn’t look up. “Whatever.”
Slipping out the back door, he entered the quiet night of an upscale residential neighborhood in Maryland, where homes stood on one-acre plots and most people probably never knew their neighbors. Nothing stirred. He stood at the back door surveying the quiet yard before he took one step toward the car. Night came early in late October. And cold. The chill in the air tonight spelled frost on the pumpkins in the morning. The windshields, too.
David’s Taurus was parked where he’d left it. He didn’t want to store it in the heated two-car garage connected to the house. Yes, it housed another arms cache and a steel-reinforced safe room, but it took time to get from point A, the house, to point B, the garage. If things turned bad, he opted for a fast getaway instead of retreating to another bunker. Sitting around and waiting to be rescued was never a good option. Bad could always get worse.
Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6) Page 4
