She breathed a sigh of relief. Harrison’s name hadn’t triggered any change in Luke’s eyes. Maybe he didn’t know of her family.
She dropped her feet to the side of the bed and prepared to stand.
“I wouldn’t do that yet,” he said, without even looking at her.
Did he have eyes in the back of his head? “I need to pee if you don’t mind.”
He tucked his phone in his pants pocket; his pants had a ridiculous number of pockets, she realized. And then he faced her and reached for her hand.
“I can walk by myself, thanks.” She tugged her hand free of his. “You’ve done enough.” She slowly brushed past him, trying to ignore the size of his muscular arms in the process.
She shut the door and splashed some water on her face, contemplating how far she could get if she tried to make a run for it. Even though she wanted to trust Luke, a man who had shielded her body with his own, she also didn’t like the idea of being a prisoner. And what if he did end up using her as bait?
No, his people had rescued her to keep her safe, blowing whatever operation they had planned in doing so.
Operation: a word she was familiar with because of her TV show. But this shouldn’t be happening in real life, not in her life, at least.
She eyed herself in the mirror and wiped the faint bit of mascara from beneath her eyes. It was the only makeup she ever wore on a daily basis. Now, she looked about as tired and plain as possible. But looks didn’t matter, because she’d almost died tonight. Still, there was a hot badass guy out there right now, and for the first time in years, she had a sudden desire to be seen.
A tap at the door startled her. “You okay in there?”
“Yeah. Give me a second.” After finishing up, she went into the room. She positioned herself at the edge of the bed, and he sat across from her at the desk and leaned back.
Over six feet tall atop strong and powerful legs—she could just tell, at least. His blond hair was short, but not too closely cropped, and his strong chin and hard cheekbones were covered in stubble. He had such a commanding presence about him that maybe should’ve intimidated, and yet, she found comfort in his rugged sexiness and obvious strength.
“I don’t have a choice in any of this, do I?”
“For starters, your life is probably at risk,” he replied.
“And if my life weren’t on the line?”
“What my team and I do is—”
Irritation bunched tight in her stomach and she snapped, “Classified. Got it.”
He looked past her and at the wall, as if eye contact was suddenly awkward. It gave her a chance to eye the tattoo on his bicep peeking out from his shirt sleeve; her eyes widened at the familiar tatt. “You’re a Navy SEAL, aren’t you? Or you were, at some point, right?”
He jerked his attention to her lightning-fast, his eyes catching hers, and she noticed how blue they actually were. Nordic or Northern European descent, she had to assume by his Viking-like perfect structure and features.
“What?” He stood and grabbed a dark long-sleeved shirt draped over the office chair, and pulled it over his head. “Just because you write for a SEAL show doesn’t make you an expert.”
His eyes shifted to the floor, and she focused on the black military boots he wore.
Yup, military might as well have been carved into every inch of his body. Why did the man who’d wreaked havoc in her life, while also being a savior, have to be so damn good-looking?
The last thing in the world she needed to be thinking about was what he looked like naked.
She couldn’t believe a SEAL heartthrob stood before her, whether he’d admitted to it or not. Teamguys, as they seemed to call each other, tended to be cagey and secretive, but what had blown her mind was his ability to make her legs tighten with some foreign need when she should’ve been scared shitless.
She refused to be a cliché and fall for the hero, especially a hero who’d gotten her into this hot mess.
Even in her own screenplays, she’d never willingly let the woman get wet with desire within sixty seconds of meeting the guy who’d saved her. She had standards for her characters, and so, damn it, she wouldn’t—no, she couldn’t think about this man before her as anything other than that. A man. A man who’d better get her out of this storm.
“Actually, I am a bit of an expert on the military,” she finally said as confidently as possible. She’d spent the last two years researching anything and everything about the military, with particular regard to SEALs. Her friends at work joked she was a walking Wikipedia.
“Mm-hm. Sure you are.” He found her eyes again, and the sizzle she didn’t want snapped straight down her spine and into her toes.
It’s the drugs. It has to be.
“So, what about you?”
“What about me, sweetheart?” He cocked a brow, the amused twist of his lips disappearing fast.
“Do you have someone at home who might be worried about you?”
His mouth parted, but he didn’t say anything. He kept staring into her eyes as if she held all of the answers in the world. He looked speechless, and she wasn’t sure how she’d rendered him that way.
“You okay?”
His jaw beneath that sexy stubble clenched briefly. Even in a semi-lucid state, she realized this man tried damn hard to hide his emotions.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He heaved out a deep sigh. “You’re handling this pretty well. I have to say I’m surprised.”
She was a little shocked, too. “I’m alive and no longer shackled inside a truck.” She shrugged. “Could be worse, I suppose.”
Her boring little life had shattered and fallen into pieces the moment this man had knocked on her door. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Why hadn’t she stayed away like he’d asked?
No normal person paid five times the rental fee because of privacy. “I’m an idiot. I should never have rented my place to you.” She stared down at her nails, the paint beginning to chip as a result of the insane night she’d survived.
“It’s hard to find property at the last minute. Your place was a lifesaver.”
“Until I ruined everything for you. I just wish I knew what you were trying to do.” She nervously glanced up, regret filling her. “But I know you can’t tell me.”
“You already know too much, I’m afraid.” He turned his back, walked over to the wall, and braced against it with both palms.
She stared at his ass in the fatigues, even though she fought like hell to look away. “I won’t tell anyone anything. You can trust me,” she whispered. “If you’re really who you say you are . . . a good guy . . . then I’d never want to do anything to jeopardize your work.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let your people save me. You were okay with being taken; maybe I’d have been okay, too.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her but didn’t drop his hands. “The potential loss of civilian life is not a risk we’re willing to take.”
Civilian. God, you’re so military.
“Were those men terrorists? Will you tell me that much?”
He faced her and crossed his arms, casually leaning against the wall now. The room was too small for a man with such an unassailable presence. He clearly wasn’t military anymore, or he wouldn’t be operating on U.S. soil, so she had to assume he worked with the FBI or Homeland Security.
She was safe, then. But, she’d like to be home within three weeks, before work started up. And, at the very least, before her family started asking questions about her whereabouts, and the world discovered Everly Reed had been living as Eva Sharp.
She hung her head at the realization that her identity might be exposed, anyway. “They took a picture of me without my glasses,” she said under her breath.
“Yeah, which is why you’re in danger. And then they’ll figure out your name is on the property deed of the cabins.”
“Right, but they might also figure out that my life is a lie.”
“
I’ve got you on speaker. Eva says there’s something we should know.” Luke held the phone between them.
“I’m pretty sure she’s about to tell me her name is actually Everly Reed.” Jessica cursed through the phone, and Luke’s eyes narrowed in distrust as he stared at Eva.
What right did he have to be angry, though, when he’d said he was Travis Davenport?
“Everly? Who is—”
“She’s famous. Well, her family is.” Jessica cut him off. “I just found out when I did some more digging.”
“Sorry, I never heard of you or your family,” Luke rasped, clearly upset.
“Well, get familiar,” Jessica said, and Eva shrank back onto the bed. “They’re always in the spotlight, and her brother Harrison also owns a media outlet and newspaper.”
“Great.” Luke’s free hand balled at his side, and it had Eva tensing. “We really picked the perfect cabin to rent, didn’t we?”
“I-I’m sorry.” Some sense of responsibility clung to her like wet clothes after getting caught in a rainstorm. What if people died because Eva had been rescued?
“This is my fault. I should’ve done a better job picking the cabins, but we were on a time crunch,” Jessica said. “Plus, whoever created her new identity did one hell of a job. It took me awhile to discover it.”
“I promise I won’t tell my family or anyone about you guys,” Eva said, trying to come across as even-toned as possible, despite the fear hollowing out her stomach.
“Why’d you change your name?” Luke asked.
“I don’t want the world to know who I am, probably as much as you don’t want them to know about you.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “So, you can trust your secret is safe with me.”
Luke stepped away and shielded his eyes from her by turning his back. “See if there’s any chatter about her. Look into both names.”
“If anyone is looking for her, I’ll find out and hopefully track down a location,” Jessica vowed.
“Do you think these people you’re after will find out who I really am?”
“They’ll probably assume Eva Sharp’s an alias, so they’ll dig,” Luke answered.
An alias? Jesus. “What about my family, then?” The realization that her parents and siblings might get caught up in all of this suddenly hit her. “They have a lot of security, but . . .”
“Send a credible tip to the FBI. Lead them to believe her family is in serious danger, so the Feds will keep a watch out, and ensure her family ups their security,” Luke suggested.
Eva had to assume Luke and this woman weren’t FBI. Otherwise, why would they need to send a “tip”? Why wouldn’t they just tell the Feds what was going on? Well, unless they were super deep under? Her thoughts would run nonstop until she sank her teeth into the truth.
“We leave in a few hours. Did you secure a location?” Luke edged closer to the hotel door and put the phone back to his ear. “You’re off speaker.” He peeked at her from over his shoulder, and she guiltily looked away.
After a minute, he ended the call.
“Try not to worry about your family, okay? I know it might be hard, but we’ll ensure they’re safe.”
She nodded. “Okay. But there is one thing you could do that might help.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m starving.” Her fingers splayed across her abdomen. “I probably shouldn’t be thinking about food at a time like this.”
“We can get room service before we go.”
“Thanks. Uh, is it pancake or burger time?”
“I think rich people call it brunch.”
She couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. “I’m not rich.”
“Sure, honey. And a frog’s ass isn’t watertight.”
“Now, that’s just gross.” She puckered her lips. “And you really are a SEAL, aren’t you?”
He dragged a large hand down his face, his eyes damn near twinkling. “What?”
“Knowing you were once one of the most elite operatives on the planet will make me feel safer.” She swallowed the hard knot that formed in her throat.
“What makes you think that wouldn’t make me more dangerous?” he asked in all seriousness.
Chapter Seven
“Do you have a hollow leg? I’ve never seen a woman eat so much.”
“I eat when I’m nervous.” She moved the plate of food away and caught a smile lingering on his lips before he got rid of it.
“What else do you do when you’re nervous?” He hid his hands in his pockets as his gaze fell to her lips, which induced a strange twitch of emotions in her chest.
Think about you naked, apparently.
“I dance.”
“You what?”
She rolled her shoulders back and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. “When I’m waiting on an important call from the studio, or nervous to open a letter of . . . normally, rejection from a director about a script . . . I dance.”
“Like, at a club?”
“No, like in my apartment while wearing fuzzy socks and jamming out to Led Zeppelin or something high energy.”
“Huh.” He faked a cough and turned his back. “Are fuzzy socks mandatory?”
“Oh, for sure.” She rose, feeling much better after having eaten. She’d hopefully killed any residual effects of the drugs by shoving a ton of food into her mouth. “Do we have a long drive ahead of us? I’d love a shower, but I won’t have anything clean to put on, so I guess I’ll wait.” She nervously patted her thighs as she waited for him to face her.
“Going just south of the Poconos. Not too bad of a drive.”
Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. “And will you be staying with me at this location while you and your people decide what to do with me?”
“I’m on babysitting duty. We both need to stay out of the spotlight until we have a plan.” He finally turned and looked at her.
“Why you? I mean, if you were bait before, why wouldn’t you want to be found again?”
“We need to cover all of our bases before I offer myself up,” he said dryly.
“Oh. Well, I hope you believe me when I say I promise your secrets are safe with me.”
“Promises don’t go a long way with me, I’m afraid.”
“Did someone burn you before?” She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t voiced her thoughts.
“Trust has to be earned, sweetheart.”
The huskiness of his voice had the hairs on her arms pricking to attention. “That goes both ways.” She opened her eyes and asked, “How long will we be holed up together?”
“Hopefully, only a few days. I’m not looking forward to this.”
“Yeah, me either, Captain Commando.”
“If you did your research, you’d know SEALs don’t like that term.”
She lifted a brow. “What makes you think I don’t know that?”
He grunted and turned away, whispering under his breath, “Why couldn’t you work for a medical show?”
“Big enough for you?” Luke leaned inside the doorframe of the kitchen that connected to the living room in the so-called “safe house” they’d arrived at ten minutes prior. The home sat on several acres of land and had a six-foot fence surrounding the property.
“Could be bigger,” she said.
“Forgive me, Miss Beverly Hills. Forgot who I was talking to.” He flipped his gaze to the ceiling.
“It was a joke.” She sighed. “I live in a tiny studio in New York. Basically, anything with two levels is massive to me. I told you I’m not rich.”
“I still don’t get it.” He strode across the room to where she stood, her back against the large kitchen island. “Why change your name?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me who you are,” she said without dropping his gaze.
His eyes were like a pair of blue magnets, pulling her to him and straight out of her comfort zone. He continued to stare at her for a gut-agonizing minute, the tension building between them so much it had her palms going to
the counter on each side of her. And then he sidestepped her and went straight to the fridge, and she expelled a breath.
“I had the place stocked with food, and I got you some stuff.” He grabbed two bottles of water and surprised her by tossing one her way.
He sucked down nearly the entire bottle then said, “Come with me.”
She put her unopened water down and followed him out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the set of stairs that split at the middle, branching both left and right. The house was decorated like it was stuck in the ’90s, with pastel wall colors and brass everywhere.
“Why didn’t your people use this place to lure those men to?”
He stopped walking midway down the hall, and she nearly collided with his frame. Muscles strained atop muscles—but not in the bulky kind of way . . . in the annoyingly good-looking way.
She flipped on the nearby light switch so she could better see his eyes and try to get a read on him when he faced her.
“You’re not going to stop trying to get information out of me, are you?”
“I’m a curious person.”
“Which makes it hard for me to believe you’ll keep what happened to yourself.” Frustration passed over his face. He started to turn, but she caught his arm.
“Just give me something to go on, okay? I have so many stories spinning in my head, and it’s making me a little crazy.”
His gaze shifted to the floor, and she wondered if he were actually contemplating opening up. Her heart raced, but she wasn’t sure if that was due to the feel of his arm beneath her palm or her desire for answers.
“We couldn’t use a government-owned property, which this is. And hotels and such run the risk of casualties.”
“And you didn’t want witnesses,” she added, but he didn’t confirm.
He shifted out of her grasp and continued down the hall.
When she followed him into the room, her heart leaped into her throat.
“You got me a computer?” There were shopping bags on the bed, but it was the MacBook sitting next to them that held her eye like a flashing beacon.
His hands disappeared into his pockets as his gaze cruised the room and then found her eyes. “Sorry about tossing yours. I figured you could write while we’re here, so you don’t lose your mind from boredom.”
Finding His Mark (Stealth Ops Book 1) Page 6
