by Rebecca Deel
“I would feel better if you were nearby.”
Alex studied her expression a moment, caught the worry in her eyes. Only one reason he knew of for her uneasiness. “Porter?”
Her head dropped, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. All that anger, the simmering violence. He reminded me of Lee,” she whispered.
“Ivy.” He waited until she raised her gaze to his. “You never have to apologize to me. I want to know if someone or something makes you uncomfortable.”
“But I feel so stupid, so weak. Why can’t I be stronger? Shouldn’t I be over it by now?”
“Baby, you went through a traumatic experience and had to live through another one in July. That’s bound to stir up insecurities and fears. And being locked in that unfinished basement without light, food, or water for days? I’ve known soldiers who would have problems dealing with that. In fact, one of my Army buddies had PTSD so bad after he mustered out, he couldn’t leave his home for a year.”
“It doesn’t seem like I’ll ever get over this.”
“You will put most of it behind you, Ivy. But I’m not going to lie to you. The PTSD will pop up at unexpected moments. You’ll think you have it conquered, might go months without any issues. Then a smell or a sound will bring it all back.”
“What will I do?”
“Deal with it again and get your life back on track.” He cupped her cheek. “You’re already making huge strides, sweetheart.”
“But I still can’t stand most men touching me.”
He chuckled. “That’s no hardship on my part. I like that I’m the only man you trust enough to touch or let touch you. Means there are a lot fewer men I have to warn to keep their hands off my girlfriend.”
“It really doesn’t bother you?”
“Everybody has something to deal with. Yours just happens to be PTSD.” Alex laid his forehead against hers. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Just seeing a snake makes me want to puke.” He’d had plenty of close encounters with them on missions. His reaction never improved. Horrible, slithery creatures.
“I’m not a fan of them, either.”
“Perfect. We’re made for each other. Now back to the original issue. You need to sleep. There’s a couch in Dad’s office. He used to take naps there on Sunday afternoons if he was home. Would you be comfortable there?”
She sighed, tension seeping from her muscles. “Thank you.” Ivy raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
When she would have stepped back, Alex reeled her back in for another kiss, this one longer, deeper. He was in no hurry, made sure she didn’t feel trapped. But that kiss…man, that kiss burned him to cinders. He’d meant to comfort her, show her how special she was. Instead, they zipped past comfort straight into hot.
He eased away from her, glad to see she looked as shocked as he felt. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” she said, faintly.
“Come on.” Clasping her hand, he led her to the office, nudged her to the leather sofa. He snagged an afghan off the back and handed it to her. “Rest, angel. I’ll be here when you wake.”
“No more than two hours, okay? I get cranky if I sleep more than that in the afternoon.”
He saluted. “Yes, ma’am. Two hours.”
Figuring she wouldn’t lay down if he stood over her, Alex walked around the desk and sat in his father’s chair. Nostalgia hit him. His father’s cologne had settled into the fabric of the chair. He’d missed that scent over the years, missed the conversations, even the ones that had ended in confrontation. He hoped that was behind him now.
Wiggling the mouse, he brought the computer out of sleep mode, typed in the password he remembered. Bingo. He frowned. His father should know better than to leave the password the same for so long. Something else to address when his dad came home.
He called up the email program and scanned the contents. Ten emails with photos that had already been opened, the subject line the same for each. Alexander. He clicked on the oldest email. Three pictures. All of him with Ivy. Whoever took the pictures had used a telephoto lens. Good quality. These were taken at Josh’s wedding last month. He recognized Ivy’s dress as maid of honor. He studied the angle of the shot, figured the photographer was in the stand of trees on the right side of the park. Good place to remain unobserved. The trees were thick, the foliage thicker. Perfect cover for a shooter with a camera or a rifle.
And anybody with eyes would notice how he felt about her. It was all over his face and body language. He drew in a slow breath. Despite all his years in black ops, his emotional attachment to Ivy was plain as day. So much for his ability to keep his feelings hidden. Apparently, Ivy Monroe blasted his legendary mask to pieces. Alex scanned the other two photos. More of the wedding. All with Ivy. All showcasing possessiveness from him and joy from Ivy as she laughed, her hand on his chest or his arm, her beautiful face close to his, the longing naked in her eyes.
A ball of ice formed in his stomach. No doubt in his mind whoever wanted him would target Ivy to get to him. If things got too hot, how would he protect her? She couldn’t handle being put in a form of witness protection. Ivy couldn’t tolerate being locked away, even for her own protection. No way would he abuse her trust by insisting, though he longed to do just that. He hadn’t been completely honest with Ivy earlier. Yeah, being near snakes terrified him. What scared him even more was the possibility of losing her.
He went through the rest of the emails. Him running, working out with the bodyguard trainees, enjoying time with his Delta unit in Ethan’s backyard along with Josh’s sisters and their husbands. Those he was okay with, though he hated the invasion of privacy. The pictures that ticked him off were the ones of Ivy by herself. The grocery store, the bookstore, walking across Otter Creek Community College’s campus, those were bad enough. The last one, though, was of Ivy asleep in her bed. How had the photographer gotten that picture? She lived in a second floor apartment. Balcony. Someone had shimmied up the railing and climbed onto her balcony. Someone trained could have broken in easily. He could have done it in seconds, same as any of his teammates.
Gritting his teeth, he forwarded all the emails to Brent and asked him to set the tech geeks loose. Alex wanted to know where the emails originated from. He planned to have an up close and personal discussion with him or her. If someone came at him, he could handle it. Ivy had very few defenses and she was just getting a grip on the PTSD. Something like this could set her back a long way. He didn’t want that for her. His lady had fought so hard to gain ground. No one had the right to make her feel vulnerable again.
Alex glanced at the clock. Ivy had been asleep for an hour. He figured it might be a good idea to scan through the rest of his father’s emails. Yeah, it was an invasion of privacy, but it was something the FBI would get around to sooner or later. When he finished, he sat back, thoughtful.
His father had contacted President Martin a few weeks ago. It wasn’t too surprising since his father was on the Armed Services Committee. The timing, however, coincided with the first email sent with his pictures. Might be worth picking up the phone and making a call himself. Hated to call in a favor with the president unless it was necessary. With Ivy’s safety on the line, he was more than willing to tap every resource he had to protect her.
No one would touch Ivy Monroe on his watch, not without deadly consequences.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Ivy.”
Alex’s quiet voice woke her from an excellent dream, one featuring the dark eyed, dark haired man sitting beside her hip on the most comfortable couch ever made.
“Time to wake up, angel. Feel better?”
Who wouldn’t, waking up to his dreamy voice and handsome face? “I do. Did you find out anything while I was asleep?” Alex’s grim expression finally registered on her sleep-hazed mind. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you need something to drink before we talk about that?”
“More water would be great.” Hopefully she would wake up enough to be coherent when he returne
d.
“Be right back.”
As he left the office, Ivy swung her legs to the floor and sat up. She still felt pretty rough, not that she’d admit such a thing to Alex. He would insist on her going to her room to sleep more. She had no intention of leaving him by himself to deal with whatever had upset him so much. His brother and mother weren’t going to support him. If anything, they’d be more inclined to hinder than help.
Their families were a piece of work. Her mother and father were extremely disappointed in her for not marrying their chosen son-in-law, Lee Hall. They didn’t believe he’d intentionally hurt her, had begged her not to file charges against him, sure everything that had happened was simply a misunderstanding. Right. Like leaving her locked in a basement for three days was a misunderstanding. She’d barely spoken to her parents since Lee’s trial and conviction. Alex’s parents had flat out disowned him when he’d bucked against their approved career path. Whatever they’d wanted for him hadn’t included the military. Their loss. Alex Morgan was a fine man, the most honorable and loyal man she’d ever known. She couldn’t believe he was hers, at least for now.
Footsteps in the hall. Ivy turned expecting Alex. Instead, Porter stormed into the office. She should have realized it wasn’t Alex. He never made any noise when he walked.
“What are you doing in here? You have no right to invade my father’s office.” His voice rose as he advanced on her.
Instinct had Ivy backing away. Her chest tightened. Cold sweat broke out over her body. Her back hit the wall and still Porter was advancing. He was so angry, so big. Her body shook.
Ivy started to wheeze.
“Get away from her.” Alex raced through the doorway, grabbed his brother by the collar and yanked him back, tossing him toward the couch. He unlocked the French door, shoved it open, scooped her into his arms and carried her outside.
And still she wheezed. Air. She couldn’t get enough air. Ivy tried to slow her breathing, panicked when she couldn’t.
Alex sat her on a bench and dropped to his knees in front of her. He cupped her face between his palms. “Look at me, baby. Just at me. You’re safe. You’re outside. The sun’s shining down on your beautiful hair. Feel that? A nice breeze is blowing. Breathe, angel. In. Out. That’s it. Breathe with me.”
She locked her gaze on his, followed his lead, blocked everything but him from her mind. Finally, after what seemed like hours of tortured breathing, she was able to draw in her first deep breath. Still shaking, she fell into his arms.
“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His arms tightened around her.
Safe. Yes, she was safe. Alex would never let anyone hurt her. He knelt there, just holding her, rubbing her back, whispering reassurances in her ear until the horrid shaking ceased. “Sorry,” she whispered against his neck.
“No apologies, angel. Remember?” He kissed her temple.
“What is wrong with her?”
Porter’s strident voice made her shudder.
Alex continued to rub her back. “Go back in the house, Port.”
“No. I want to know what’s going on.”
“Ivy has claustrophobia. You boxed her in.” Alex’s voice hardened. “You stay away from her, you hear me?”
“That looked a lot more like a panic attack than claustrophobia.”
“Leave it alone.”
“I will not. You brought some head case into Mother’s house? Are you insane? What if your girlfriend flips out and hurts herself, or worse, somebody else?”
Alex eased Ivy away from him and stood, turning to face his brother. “That’s enough. Ivy is not a head case.”
Ivy got to her feet, unsurprised to feel her legs trembling. She clasped Alex’s hand, reminding herself he would always help her pick up the pieces. “You’re right, Porter. That was a panic attack. A man I trusted locked me in an unfinished basement for three days. No light, food or water. Nothing but the smell of damp earth and no sounds except the scurrying of rats and bugs.” Her voice broke. Alex’s hand tightened around hers. And she could breathe again. She was outside in the sunshine, not caged in. “He basically buried me alive. I don’t trust many men, especially strangers. He has a violent temper, is verbally abusive, controlling. I thought I was going to die in that basement.”
Porter’s face paled. “How did you get out?”
“His mother dropped off some food at his house and heard me calling for help.”
“What happened to him?”
“Jail.”
“Good.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I apologize for scaring you. I can’t promise I won’t lose my temper.” He scowled at Alex. “Not with him here and the situation with Dad. But I give you my word I won’t lay a hand on you in anger.”
“You don’t lay a hand on her at all, Porter. Go back in the office. We’ll be in shortly.”
Without another word, Porter pivoted on his heel and followed the stone path to the house. The door closed quietly behind him.
Alex turned, enfolded her in his arms and pulled her close. “Okay now?”
She nodded. Despite the sunshine, she shivered. Talking about those nightmarish days, even in general terms, always left her cold down to her bones.
“Liar.” His voice was gentle.
“I will be,” she said. And for the first time, she knew that to be the truth instead of simply a positive affirmation. Reality reasserted itself faster this time than in any other previous panic episode. Part of that was thanks to Alex’s presence, his calm acceptance, his unfailing faith in her ability to overcome the fear. Part of the swift recovery came from distance from the event. Maybe being surrounded by such good men like Alex’s teammates and the Cahill sisters’ husbands was helping her realize deep down that not all men were evil.
Alex studied her face for a moment. “Hearing what you went through guts me and makes me want to pay a visit to your ex. I admire your grit and courage so much, angel.” Slowly, he lowered his head, settled his lips on hers for a series of soft kisses.
By the time he finally lifted his head, the cold had disappeared from her bones, her lips tingled, and her cheeks burned.
“While you were sleeping, I found pictures in Dad’s emails. You up for taking a look?”
“Sure.”
“After that, I want to see the ones sent to you.”
Ivy reached into the back pocket of her jeans and handed Alex her phone. “I want a new number and phone.”
As they walked the path back to the house, his hand settled at her waist. “I’ll take care of it after we figure out who’s sending the pictures.”
Porter was sitting in an armchair, sipping some kind of drink, his expression bleak. He glanced up as Alex closed the French door. “What now?”
“Looking at the pictures sent to Dad.” Alex dropped into his father’s chair and tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard. “Where’s Mother?”
“Bed. She’s exhausted.” Porter’s lips twisted. “I imagine she’ll be taking a sleeping pill, so I doubt we’ll hear from her again until morning.”
Alex paused. “She’s not going to the hospital again tonight?”
“She and Dad haven’t been close in years. They stay married because of his image and, let’s face it, Mother’s love of Dad’s money.”
“When did this happen?”
“It started the day you left. As the years passed, they drifted further and further apart until now they act like distant friends instead of husband and wife.”
He returned his attention to the screen and his typing, but Ivy knew that remark had to hurt him. Porter as good as said Alex was to blame for his parents’ estrangement. She laid her hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently.
Alex rubbed his cheek over her hand. The affection implicit in that gesture wrapped another gentle ribbon around her heart, a ribbon with his name stenciled on it. Did he know she was slowly, gently falling in love with him?
A moment later, he scrolled to the first picture. Iv
y’s eyes widened. “That was at Josh and Del’s wedding. They’ve been watching us for a month?”
“Seems so,” he murmured and scrolled to the second and third photos.
Alex looked so handsome in the tuxedo. All the guys had looked amazing. But Del had been stunning in her white mermaid-style gown. Ivy sighed. Maybe someday she’d be the one blessed enough to marry the perfect man for her.
Alex clicked to another email. Those pictures were of him and his unit training bodyguards. Another email showed him by himself in various places around Otter Creek. Creepy. More pictures scrolled across the screen, snapshots of moments with his friends, more with her. She leaned closer to the screen. “Isn’t that Josh’s bachelor party?”
“Yep, complete with the bride, the wedding party, and all the families.”
“Not typical, but it was fun.”
“One more, angel.” He clasped the hand still on his shoulder.
She heard the grimness in his voice, knew she wouldn’t like what she saw.
Cold chills ran down her spine. A picture of her, asleep in her bed. Whoever had snapped that picture had been mere feet from her while she slept.
“How? I live on the second floor? How could they get close enough to take that picture?”
Alex hated the fear in Ivy’s voice. Maybe he should have kept this one from her. Immediately, he rejected that thought. He wasn’t starting this relationship out on a lie. Though Ivy might doubt herself, he knew she was a lot stronger than she gave herself credit for. She’d have to be if they were going to make it as a couple.
There was always a chance his black ops missions would leak, always the possibility his identity would get out as a sniper who’d killed drug kingpins, money launderers, terrorists, and human traffickers. His own mother believed him to be nothing more than a high-priced thug. Ivy was the only woman he knew who thought he was a hero, claimed he took out the world’s garbage. In the dead of night, when the ghosts of the dead plagued him, Ivy’s remark made him smile and eased the anguish in his soul.
