by Loye, Trish
“You’re fully capable of handling almost any threat. And there is no way I’d make fun of you because, as you said, you’re armed.”
“You’re going to walk me the whole way, aren’t you?”
He didn’t say anything, just kept walking. He didn’t want to argue with her about this. He’d learned early that even if a woman could handle herself, he should be there to support or back her up.
“Did you know that you still owe me two answers?” At her look of confusion he continued. “From the run two days ago.”
She sighed. Her face showed resignation, but her lips quirked into a tiny smile. His steps lightened when he realized she wasn’t going to fight him on it.
“Question two: why have you been tracking Al Shabah for so long?” he asked.
Her shoulders hunched inwards. He’d touched a nerve of some sort. But what had Al Shabah done to her?
Her haunted eyes made him want to hug her and reassure her he’d keep her safe. But he couldn’t do that. In fact, his job was to ferret out any information on Al Shabah he could, anything that might help bring the terrorist down.
“Alyssa, how do you know Al Shabah?” he asked.
Her sigh shuddered out of her. “From Iraq.”
She spoke so softly he had to lean toward her to hear what she said. He knew enough not to say anything, but to wait for her to continue her story. The skin around her mouth and eyes was pinched as if what she was going to say pained her more than anything he’d seen her deal with so far.
“He killed my friends,” she said. “It was a bombing at a market. I swore I’d find him and bring him to justice.” She looked up at him, her jaw set. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”
* * *
Alyssa could do nothing but scowl as Zach kept walking beside her. He kept silent, as if waiting for her to keep talking. But she’d already almost kissed him and told him part of her darkest secret. What more could he possibly want from her?
They walked past Lattes and More and she slowed as they came close to her apartment entrance. She rolled her shoulders to settle her jacket and zipped it up to the top before shoving her hands into the pockets.
The silence had gone on so long that her ire had cooled by the time they landed in front of her building. With a calm head, she realized she’d been madder at herself than him.
This was her brother’s friend. Sure he was gorgeous and he’d seemed like he wanted to kiss her before, but she was probably making more of it than it was. They were on the same task force. She should act like that, and not expect anything different.
No matter how his hard-muscled body, gorgeous face, and fun attitude made her feel. This was not a date and she should not expect anything except a civil wave as a good night.
She paused in front of the glass door of her building and turned to Zach. “Thanks for walking me home, even though you didn’t have to.”
“My pleasure,” he said, but his body language belied his words. The skin around his eyes was tight and he pressed his lips together. She frowned slightly and stepped closer. He stiffened.
Some female part of her that had been asleep for the last two years woke up and took notice. It made her move closer to Zach. He didn’t move away, but he watched her with an intensity that heated her skin.
Compelled by whatever was between them, her thoughts on hold, she put her hands on his hard biceps and stroked up to his broad shoulders. He still didn’t move, like he was afraid she’d bolt if he did. Like everything else in life, there were no half measures for Alyssa. She pulled his head down to hers.
His lips were warm and firm, pressing against hers. Her temperature shot up. For one beat of her heart she thought he might pull away, but then he groaned and his arms came around her. Strong. Hard.
The faintest scent of a spicy soap clung to him. She inhaled and closed her eyes, losing herself in sensation; in Zach.
She gripped his wide shoulders, trying to anchor herself as she opened her mouth under his. Liquid fire swirled through her, burning where he touched her. Her tongue darted out to meet his and her muscles clenched at the first brief contact. A moan slipped out.
Her thoughts scattered. She sank into his embrace and the fire inside her surged beyond anything she’d known before. The kiss was more than she’d bargained for. More than she could handle.
She pulled away, breathing hard and staring at the man before her. His face all sculpted angles, heated brown eyes, and soft lips. Her hands clutched at his shoulders. She swallowed and stepped back, even as his hands reached for her.
He paused before touching her and his eyes clouded with a wariness that made her want to step back into his arms to reassure him. But she didn’t move.
His arms dropped to his sides and his face smoothed to a blank mask. “I’m s—”
She held up her hand. “Please don’t say that.”
He raised his eyebrows and didn’t speak. She wanted to stand on her tiptoes and kiss those lips, but she couldn’t. She was a cop. An ex-sergeant in the military. She wasn’t some wishy-washy college girl who got dewy-eyed when some gorgeous hunk kissed her. She could handle this.
She swallowed. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I got carried away.”
“We both did.” The humor in his eyes made her want to smile, but she pressed her lips together.
“It’s not going to happen again,” she said. No freaking way. She couldn’t kiss a member on the task force, no matter how much she wanted to. They had to focus on the job.
The humor leaked from his eyes to his luscious lips and they curved into a smile. “Of course not,” he said.
The slight bit of arrogance in his glance sparked anger inside her. Did he think she was easy, or that she was kidding?
He must have seen her temper rising because his smile dropped and he stepped back. “Is this your building?”
She nodded and looked up. There was a light on in her apartment. She frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Zach asked.
“My light’s on. I never leave my lights on,” she said slowly, heading for the building door. “The super must have let himself in for some reason.”
Zach followed on her heels when she entered. She shook her head at him. “It’s probably nothing. You don’t have to come up.”
He just stared at her and didn’t say anything.
She sighed. “Fine, but stay behind me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, his deep voice sending a shiver through her.
9
She used the stairs to get to the third floor, running up them with Zach at her side. A glance showed the determination and focus on his face.
All business. Good.
She cracked the door to her hall. Empty. They moved as one to her apartment door. There were only six units per floor, three on each side of the hall. Hers was the far-corner unit.
She kept her gaze forward, knowing Zach had the rear and wouldn’t let anyone come up behind them. It felt good to have such confidence in her partner.
Without speaking, they stood on either side of her door. She reached over and turned the handle. Unlocked. Someone had definitely been in her place.
She pushed open the door.
Her apartment was a typical New York tiny one-bedroom and, while it would never win any design awards, it was her safe haven. Neutral colors and filled bookshelves calmed her at the end of a long day. Now those same books were scattered all over the floor.
Now wasn’t the time to think about the mess. Whoever had broken in could still be here. She drew her Glock from the holster at the small of her back. Zach already had his gun out. He nodded at her and she eased into the apartment first.
No one waited in the living room, and the kitchen was clear. She looked at Zach, who pointed at her bedroom. She stepped over a lamp and moved to the closed door. Only the ambient traffic noises and her upstairs neighbor’s music could be heard.
She pushed open her bedroom door and went in, gun raised.
> “Clear,” she said a moment later.
Her bedroom had received the same treatment as the main room. All her books were on the floor. The sheets were ripped off her bed and her clothing scattered all over from the drawers of the tiny dresser. Lacy underwear lay on the carpet.
Some stranger had touched her underwear. She suppressed a shudder, and knew she’d be shopping for new ones tomorrow. Her closet had been emptied out onto the floor as well. She stepped back into the main room, where Zach was on the phone reporting the incident.
She picked up a sea-blue couch pillow that had the stuffing falling out of it. Whoever had been here had slashed it. Repeatedly.
She dropped it back to the floor. Her heart still thudded too fast. She went to the cupboard in her kitchen and pulled out the scotch bottle and two glasses. Her hand trembled as she poured a shot into each of them, making the liquid splash.
She nodded and clinked the glasses together before handing Zach his. He handed her the phone in exchange while he sipped at his drink before setting it down on the counter.
She told her story to the officer on the line. “It looks like they were looking for something,” she said.
She threw back her drink. The scotch burned a fiery path down her throat. Someone had trespassed in her private space. She poured another shot into her glass. This one she took with her as she picked her way to her couch. She put the cushions back on and flopped down.
“Is anything missing, Detective?” the officer on the other end of the line asked.
Right. She needed to focus. A quick glance told her everything. “The TV is still here. My laptop is at work.” She shook her head. “I don’t own anything worth taking.”
The officer asked a few more questions and then asked her to come down to the precinct to file a report the next day. She agreed and hung up. The police were swamped with emergency calls—none of them had the time to check out her apartment if there wasn’t any evidence to gather. And without security cameras the outcome didn’t look good.
Zach had left the apartment while she’d spoken. It seemed lonelier without his presence. She drew her knees up and hugged them.
He came back moments later. “None of your neighbors on this floor heard anything or were broken into.”
The scotch had started to work. Her heartrate lowered and the violation didn’t pierce quite as hard. “So it’s not a robbery,” she said.
Zach nodded. “They were definitely looking for something.”
She took another small sip and then set her drink aside. She needed a clear head to deal with this. “They were also trying to make a statement,” she said. “Whatever they were looking for, they didn’t find.” She pointed at the ripped couch cushions. “That and the books thrown to the floor is because they were pissed off.”
“Agreed,” Zach said quietly.
It was close to midnight, and she was beyond tired. Zach began putting her apartment back together.
She walked past him to her bedroom and started to sort her clothes into piles. One to wash and the other, like her lacy underwear, to throw out. She made her bed with clean sheets and threw everything else into a laundry basket to deal with tomorrow.
In the main room, Zach had the place mostly organized, with only a small pile of trashed items in a garbage bag he must have found under her sink.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine. Just tired.”
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked. “I can sleep on the couch.”
She shook her head. She could handle this. “I’m good, but thanks.”
“You sure?” His warm brown gaze caught hers. She wanted to walk into his arms and surround herself with his strength.
“I’m sure,” she said, straightening her shoulders. She knew that the chances of whoever had done this coming back tonight were slim.
“Your lock is broken,” he said.
Now she frowned. “I’m a cop with a gun. I can handle it.” She waved at her place. “I’m just pissed that they messed up my stuff.”
“Okay,” he said. “You have my number if you need me.”
She nodded, but knew that she would never call him. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She shut the door behind him and wondered briefly if she should barricade it. But the only thing she had was the couch or a bar stool. One was overkill and the other useless.
She got ready for bed and put her gun under her pillow. The hard lump was uncomfortable but reassuring.
* * *
Zach stared at the door after Alyssa shut him out. He sighed. Even if she hadn’t been his friend’s sister, there was no way he was leaving her on her own tonight. He glanced up and down the hallway before settling himself beside her door.
He’d spent nights in way worse situations. Here, he was warm, dry, and no one was shooting at him. He leaned his head back against the wall. For Alyssa, he would endure much more than sleeping against a wall, especially to keep her safe. He knew that she probably wouldn’t need him tonight, but he couldn’t leave her alone.
He nodded at a neighbor who popped out to put a bag of garbage down the chute in the little room down the hall. The old man shuffled past in his slippers and Zach saw a faded blue tattoo featuring an anchor decorating his left arm. The man stared at Zach. “You’re the cop who came to my door before. You watching out for our Alyssa?”
Zach nodded.
“Good,” he said. “It’s about time someone did.” He dumped his garbage and walked back to his door. Before he went in, he looked at Zach. “You need anything, son?”
Zach smiled. “I’m good, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir,” he said. “I worked for a living.”
Zach chuckled, and hoped he’d have the same sense of humor when he was that age.
He closed his eyes and took a combat nap. It allowed him to rest, yet remain aware enough to hear and respond to anything around him. Combat sleep was an essential tool for any soldier, no matter what their trade. He’d learned it in basic training and refined it over his years in special ops.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed when he heard the scream.
* * *
The souq is hot and crowded. Alyssa pushes people out of her way, but more and more stand in front of her, talking, smoking cigarettes, all staring at her with cold eyes. She can’t find her friends.
Where are Scott and Brian?
The crowd parts for a moment. A boy of no more than twelve walks by, humming.
No, not humming. Praying.
She reaches for her sidearm. Her hand comes up empty. She throws people aside, trying to get to the boy.
“Brian!” she screams. She has to warn them. “Scott!”
More people stand in her way.
Then a woman in a black hijab is there, gripping her arms. Her contact. Something is wrong.
“I’m sorry, Alyssa.”
Alyssa tries to shove her away, but the woman’s grip is too tight. “No!”
* * *
Zach’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the scream. He was up and moving into Alyssa’s apartment before he’d even registered he was awake. His hand held his gun, but he kept it lowered and by his side as he stalked through her apartment to her bedroom. It was the darkest part of the night—around three a.m., he figured. Traffic noise was at a minimum.
At her bedroom door, he paused. He heard her thrashing in her bed.
“No!” she screamed.
He went into the room. Alyssa was in the throes of a nightmare, the sheets twisted around her legs.
“Alyssa,” he said, reaching for her shoulder.
Her eyes snapped open and she reached under her pillow.
Instinct and years of training made him dive for the floor as she pulled her Glock out.
“Alyssa,” he called from the floor, his body tense and ready to move if she aimed at him. “It’s Zach. You’re safe.”
She fumbled and turned her bedside light on. Her wide eye
s registered him on the floor and she slumped. “What the fuck? I could have shot you.”
He stood. “My mistake.” He gently pulled the gun from her unresisting fingers and laid it on her night table. “I shouldn’t have loomed over you while waking you.”
She scooted back, resting against the headboard. “You hardly loomed.” Again she defended him from himself. It made him smile. Her hair hung loose around her, like a fiery shawl. And the black tank top she wore made him want to touch the creamy skin it revealed. She took a moment to straighten her blankets over her legs. “I had a nightmare, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “Do you have them often?”
“What are you doing here so late? It’s three in the morning.”
He let her change the subject. Now it was his turn to be sheepish. “I was outside your door.”
She frowned. “All night?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
The play of emotions over her face surprised him. Shock and irritation were the most prominent, but the fleeting glimpse of hunger was the one that fascinated him. He shifted closer. Her eyes tracked his movement and her tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip. He sucked in a breath as need shot through him. The memory of their kiss on the street burned him. He wanted to dig his fingers into the fire of her hair and lose himself in those lips.
But the vulnerability in her eyes stopped him, and he held himself back. She didn’t need to deal with him after the night she’d had, so he pulled the covers higher up and tucked them around her before standing.
“You’re good?” he asked.
She nodded, her gray gaze almost sad as he moved to leave her room.
“You’re not going home, are you?” she asked, not hiding the irritation lacing her voice.
He smiled, glad to see her spirit already back. He found he didn’t like to see her quiet and sad. “No,” he said. “Not until you get your door fixed.”
“You might as well use the couch. There’s spare blankets in the hall closet,” she said. She flicked off her light and rolled over, dismissing him. “Oh, and I don’t like talking much until I’ve had coffee in the morning.”
