by Kaylea Cross
The thought of losing her for good was incomprehensible. Okay, she wasn’t his and never would be again, but the idea of her life being snuffed out in an instant and that precious light extinguished from the world forever just ripped him up inside.
“What happened?” he asked finally when he couldn’t think of anything else safe to say.
Those deep blue eyes lifted to his. “He stopped by my office with dinner. You know Kev, always taking care of people, and he knows how I get when I’m working on a big case like this.”
Yeah, she went into pure workaholic mode. She didn’t eat, barely slept. He’d seen that once firsthand during their too-short time together, when he’d come by her place after work and found her buried in papers.
Part of him admired her single-minded determination and work ethic. He understood what it meant to be driven. He totally got what it took to reach a lifelong goal.
But there was something inside her driving her to those extremes that he didn’t understand. Almost as if she pushed herself to the brink of her endurance because she was afraid of what might happen if she didn’t. Like she still felt she had something to prove—whether to herself or someone else, he wasn’t sure. He suspected it had to do with her father, but she hadn’t kept Mal around long enough for him to find out.
“I’d left my car at the shop to get fixed yesterday. Kev picked it up for me on the way over as a surprise, then was going to return my rental for me when he left. He…” She faltered, swallowed and glanced away before continuing. “He hit the remote start button on the key fob when he got outside. It exploded.” She drew in a steadying breath, still avoiding eye contact. “If he’d been in the car when he started it, he would have—” Her voice shredded, igniting a primal, frantic need inside him to comfort her. Make it stop hurting.
She pressed her lips together in a clear effort to keep from crying and wrapped her arms around her middle, and Mal’s resolve crumbled. He could no more keep his distance from her at that moment than he could quit breathing.
Without a word he erased the space between them and gathered her into his arms. She was stiff at first, her body rigid, arms remaining clasped around her own waist. He simply tucked her against his chest and rested his chin on top of her head without saying anything or pressuring her to talk.
After a few seconds, she unwound like a coiled spring, her arms winding around his waist, her cheek pressed to his heart. Her shoulders jerked and she made a soft, choked sound, like she was desperately trying not to cry. Afraid of appearing weak, even in front of him. Or maybe especially in front of him.
It shredded him.
Mal closed his eyes and sighed, twisted up inside. God, sweetness, I’m not gonna hurt you. He tightened his hold, slid one hand up to cradle the back of her head in his palm, keeping her close.
She shuddered, sucked in an unsteady breath, then let it out slowly and seemed to melt into his body. Her silent acceptance of his comfort soothed him on the deepest level. Her hair was cool and silky under his hand, her slender curves melded to his front, the sweet scent of her shampoo teasing him. She fit against him so perfectly, like she’d been made for him.
With effort he stopped the thought, refused to wish for something that could never be. If life had taught him anything, it was to live in the moment. So he would take this one and savor it, memorize every detail of it, because it wouldn’t last.
He could have held her like that forever but all too soon she composed herself and straightened, pulling away to wipe her face and run a self-conscious hand over her hair. Mal’s fingers itched to do it for her.
“Thanks. I needed that,” she murmured.
Mal nodded, stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. He didn’t ask to see Kevin, because it was family only in the ICU. “Can I get anything for you guys? Call someone?”
“No, but thanks. We’re planning to take shifts at Kev’s bedside until he wakes up, although Nick has already told us he’s not leaving—” She broke off when the door swung open.
Her father stood there in dress slacks and a button-down shirt, his gaze cutting from Mal to Rowan and back, a frown pulling his salt-and-pepper eyebrows together. “Rowan. Who’s this?”
So she hadn’t ever told her father about them. Not that Mal should have been surprised.
She opened her mouth to respond but Mal beat her to it, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Special agent Malcolm Freeman, Mr. Stewart.”
“FBI?”
“DEA.”
Those shrewd blue eyes exactly the same color as Rowan’s studied him as they shook hands. “Have we met?”
“No, sir. But I know both Kevin and Rowan.” And heard plenty about you. Not all of it flattering, either.
Her father nodded and withdrew his hand, switching his attention to his daughter. “The FBI agent in charge is here to talk to us.”
Rowan sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, reminding Mal that she must still be sore from the accident. “All right.”
Her father turned away for a second to wave someone in, and in entered Rowan’s mother and the FBI agent, wearing the standard dark blue windbreaker. “He’s got news about the case,” he explained. “Agent Freeman, if you’ll excuse us.”
Rowan surprised Mal by putting a restraining hand on his shoulder, to stop him from leaving. “Actually, I’d like him to stay. He’s involved with the case I’ve been working on, so he knows what’s been going on behind the scenes.”
Her father frowned again, gave Mal a cursory once-over, then dismissed him by turning to the Fed. “All right. Go ahead.”
The forty-ish agent got right to it. “They found another device wired to the engine of your boss’s car,” he told Rowan.
She blanched, her stomach grabbing. “They were able to dismantle it, I hope?”
“Yes. A search of the other vehicles in the lot hasn’t turned up any other devices so far, and of course we’re checking the building and perimeter as well.”
Rowan shook her head. “How did someone plant bombs in two vehicles right out in front of our office without anyone noticing? Without security noticing?”
“We’re questioning the security members and reviewing video footage now. Your boss has been moved to a hotel for now, and both he and his family have police protection. We suggest you do the same.”
She shook her head. “I don’t plan on leaving here until my brother wakes up and I know he’s going to be okay.”
“We’ve got an agent posted on this floor for your family’s protection. When you do leave the premises, a police officer will escort you. But for now we don’t suggest going home.”
Mal gave a mental snort. Police protection? Against the Veneno cartel? Screw that.
“She can stay at my place,” he announced, and all eyes snapped to him in surprise. He held Rowan’s for a long moment before speaking to the other agent. “I live in a secure building. I’ve been temporarily removed from my current assignment and can watch Miss Stewart until you get something else arranged. I’m not comfortable sending her outside of this hospital with nothing more than police protection.”
Hamilton had assured him he would take over bodyguard duties for Anya until Mal had everything settled on his end. This wasn’t about feelings he may or may not still have for Rowan. This was about doing the right thing and making sure she was safe.
The agent nodded once in acknowledgment, then glanced at Rowan and her parents. “Well?”
“If you’re sure,” Rowan began to Mal, seeming surprised he’d made the offer, “then I’ll go with you.”
“I’m sure.” The surprise in her eyes annoyed him. Yeah, she’d hurt him more than she seemed to realize when she’d decided she was done with him. That didn’t mean he didn’t care about her wellbeing, and after something like this? No goddamn way he was letting some beat cop guard her when the Venenos might have her in their sights.
Not only that, he considered Kevin a friend, and it was the least Mal could do to look aft
er Kev’s sister right now. Besides, it would only be for a couple of days, tops. He was a big boy. He could grin and bear having her at his place that long to ensure she was safe.
Rowan’s father’s hard blue stare bored into him. “How did you say you know my daughter?”
“I met him through Kev at a gala,” Rowan cut in, sounding exasperated.
“And how do you know Kevin?” he demanded, never taking his eyes off Malcolm.
“Dad, stop. It’s okay. I trust him.” She turned those blue eyes on Mal, and there again was that weird catch in his chest. Not really painful, more like pressure. As though invisible fingers were closing around his heart. “I feel safe with him.”
That shouldn’t have puffed up his ego so much, but it did. Mal nodded at her once. “I’ll stay in here until you want to leave.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know how long it’ll take for him to wake up.”
“I’m sure.” He could stretch out on the floor and sleep if he needed to. This room was more comfortable than a lot of places he’d bedded down in during his military and DEA career.
“Okay then. Thank you.” She flashed him a grateful smile that set off a pang of yearning inside him before walking out after her parents, leaving Mal alone with his thoughts. Mostly they were telling him this was the right thing to do, but still a damn bad idea as far as his heart was concerned.
Having Rowan at his place, under the same roof. Her sleeping in the bed across the hall. Every time he saw her there, every moment he spent with her in his intimate space a reminder of what might have been.
Blowing out a deep breath, he sank into a chair and pulled out his phone to call Hamilton and Taggart. Only a few days, he told himself. Rowan would only be with him for a day, maybe two at most before they arranged a security detail for her.
The Navy had taught him how to mask his emotions half a lifetime ago. He could keep his true feelings for her hidden a couple days, no problem.
Chapter Nine
Rowan walked into the entryway of Malcolm’s condo late the next morning and waited while he closed and locked the door behind them, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her and a low-grade anxiety churning inside. Malcolm had waited to bring her here until after Kevin had finally woken up. The drive here from the hospital had been tense, neither of them saying anything.
It was strange to be here again.
The one time she’d come before was to have dinner with him one night about a week before she broke things off, the two of them eating at his kitchen table together. He’d cooked for her and set the table with candles, even though she could only stay long enough to eat and have a short conversation before returning to the office. He’d done it just so they could spend a little time together slotted into their hectic schedules.
Now the memory made her sad. He’d only offered this solution out of some sense of obligation to her or maybe to Kevin, though she was grateful no matter the reason because right now she didn’t know where else to turn. While she was here she might be a little uncomfortable with the strain between them, but without a doubt she would be safe. Malcolm would make sure of it.
“One of my teammates will bring a suitcase over for you later tonight,” he said, his tone brusque, all business as he hung up his windbreaker on a peg beside the door.
“Okay. Thank you.” This was more awkward than she’d expected, and she was still worried about her brother. Kevin had come to briefly before she’d left, long enough for them to tell him what had happened. He took it all in, reached for her hand. I’m glad you’re okay. God, she still had a lump in her throat from that.
“You can take the guestroom.” Malcolm walked past her into the kitchen, his clean, citrusy scent drifting back to her. “Pantry’s here, and help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I don’t have much in there at the moment, but if you give me a list I’ll go grab whatever you need.”
She was merely an overnight guest to him, and from his demeanor not an entirely welcome one. Rowan swallowed and squeezed the handle of her briefcase tighter, feeling uncharacteristically small and vulnerable as she stood there in his kitchen. “Thanks.”
He stopped by the kitchen counter, faced her with his hands on his hips. Gorgeous, strong, masculine. And completely unreachable across the chilly divide between them. “You hungry?”
“No.” Shaken, lost and alone, yes. Definitely not hungry.
His expression softened slightly but he made no move toward her, his earlier attentiveness at the hospital long gone. His hot and cold routine confused her. Frustrated her. But she wasn’t going to ask him about it. “Why don’t you go get settled, then. Take a bath, maybe lie down for a bit.”
She wanted him to hold her. Tight, like he used to. The way he had at the hospital. Like he still cared. She’d worked long and hard to establish a reputation for inner strength. The world saw her as strong, driven, not needing anyone else.
It was a lie.
Underneath that carefully constructed façade, she was lonely and missed the man standing across the room. And right now she was scared and worried and sick with guilt over her brother.
“Okay,” she murmured, shoving her feelings deep down inside. What Kevin had said to her before he’d left her office was true, but she wasn’t about to embarrass herself by throwing herself at Malcolm and getting her heart crushed when he rejected her. The man in front of her now was hard, remote. She didn’t know how to deal with him.
The guestroom was at the far end of the condo, across the hall from his room. She shut the door behind her and faced the queen-size bed with its thick burgundy comforter, the window beside it looking out over the park behind the building. Setting down her briefcase, she let out a slow, deep breath.
Golden yellow sunlight streamed through the bright green leafy canopies of the oak and maple trees planted between the playground and the road. Young children played on the swings and teeter-totters or drew chalk pictures on the sidewalk while their parents looked on.
So innocent, oblivious to the dangers in this world. It was her job to ensure some of those dangers were put behind bars where they couldn’t threaten anyone again.
Today, her lifelong goal had almost killed her brother.
Tears blurring her vision, she looked away from the park and took in the rest of the room. A long wooden dresser sat along the far wall, a giant mirror on top. It looked old, maybe from the early 1900s. Next to it was the door to the en suite. She would have liked a shower, but she had nothing else to change into and didn’t feel like putting her bloodstained work clothes back on.
So she lay down on the bed instead and tried to get a grip on her turbulent emotions. Within moments, the lock on the box she’d shoved everything into shattered, hitting her in an unforgiving torrent. The tears she’d been holding at bay broke free, shaking her shoulders with their force. She was careful to stay quiet, not wanting Malcolm to hear her.
Finally the tears slowed, leaving her exhausted and taking in quivering breaths. She closed her sore, swollen eyelids, the sound of the children playing in the park coming in faintly through the window.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to see the walls of the room ablaze with orange and pink. Sunset.
She checked her phone, but no one had called or texted. No update on her brother, then. Her stomach growled. She glanced at the door, hesitating. Missing meals wouldn’t kill her; she missed meals all the time when she was working. Except right now she could really use some company and wasn’t going to hide in here all night simply to avoid Malcolm.
Pushing up, she went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth with the spare toothbrush she found in the drawer. When she opened the guestroom door a few minutes later, the muted sounds of the TV came from the living room.
Malcolm looked up when she came around the corner. He was sprawled on the couch still in his jeans and T-shirt that stretched across the defined muscles in his chest and shoulders, a decor
ative cushion beneath his head. He sat up, running his gaze over her in assessment. “Get some sleep?”
“Yes.”
He got to his feet and walked into the kitchen. “My teammate Logan dropped by with a suitcase for you a little while ago. His girlfriend Taylor went to your place with him and packed it for you. She’s an organizational wizard, so I’m sure you’ve got everything you need in there.”
She followed him, took the bag he wheeled toward her. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of them.”
“Welcome. You hungry now?”
“Have you eaten?”
“No. Grilled cheese and tomato soup okay?”
“Sure. I can make it, though.” He’d done enough by bringing her back here, and she didn’t want him going to any more trouble.
He shot her an annoyed look. “I got it. Go sit and watch something. I’ll bring it out in a few minutes.”
There was no point in arguing, so she took the chair beside the sofa and grabbed the remote. The first thing she flipped to was a newscast detailing the explosion. She quickly changed the channel, but the image made her relive everything all over again. Thankfully she found a romcom, watched it while Malcolm moved around the kitchen, though she couldn’t pay much attention to the thin plot when she had so much else on her mind.
Malcolm came in a few minutes later with a plated sandwich and a steaming bowl of soup and set it down on the coffee table in front of her. “Soup’s hot.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, avoiding looking at him as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She waited until he sat down with his own meal before starting.
They ate in silence, the movie the only sound in the room, and soon the growing tension began to grate on her nerves. If she apologized for hurting him when she ended things, would it help, or make things worse?
“Hear anything else from your family?” he finally asked her.
