by Tessa Bailey
Derek and Bowen squared off across the table. Even Erin stayed completely still, intoxicated by all the testosterone floating in the air. Finally, Derek moved on, but Erin noted that he hadn’t given in. The captain liked to pick his battles. A lesson to remember.
“Connor Bannon. Former Navy SEAL.” Derek tapped the folder against the table. “That pretty much makes him capable of anything. Infiltration, hostage removal, explosives.” Erin’s heart started to pound at the mention of explosives, red plumes of smoke streaking across her vision. So pretty. She tucked the image away for later and focused. If Connor had been good at his job, why didn’t he have it anymore? Her already-considerable interest in him grew. “Connor is good under pressure. He’ll be in charge whenever I’m not present.”
If she hadn’t been watching his face closely, she would have missed the jolt that went through him. He hadn’t been expecting that announcement. It had caught him off guard, but he still managed to retain his ask me if I give a fuck expression. It made her want to bake him a fancy cake overloaded with rekindling candles. Or get that kiss. Kiss, fire, kiss, fire. Definitely the kiss. After all, the kiss might be fire in itself.
“Erin O’Dea,” Derek said.
“Present.”
She managed to drag her attention away from Connor to focus on Derek, but not before she saw the big ex-SEAL mouth her first name. Erin. Her nerves were playing a game of ping-pong inside her throat at the impending reveal of her special talent. So far her instincts hadn’t blipped on anyone in the room, but it was too soon to tell what kind of people they were under the surface. If they were the kind of people who would test her boundaries. Her claim to infamy tended to provoke and challenge. See if they could prove the rumor wrong.
Derek’s voice forced her to tune back in. “Her nickname is Erin ‘she’s getting away’ O’Dea. That should tell you everything you need to know. She gives new meaning to the words ‘escape artist.’ There isn’t a set of handcuffs or a concrete cell that has been able to hold her for long.”
Not entirely true, she thought, but refrained from saying out loud. All eyes were on her. She could feel them roving over her skin, making her itch. Being the center of attention only worked for her when it was on her terms. Not someone else’s.
Erin traced the shape of a half-moon onto the table with her finger. “The police are so adorable with their jangly set of keys and iron padlocks.” She scrunched her shoulders. “I just want to pinch their little cheeks.”
She caught Seraphina stifling a laugh and decided she only needed to half hate her. Derek, to his credit, didn’t take issue with her characterization of cops, only moving on with a weary headshake. “Not that I don’t love the pink hair, Erin, but it makes you too recognizable. Deal with that by tomorrow.”
Dammit. She’d known they’d nix the do. Never one to agree to anything outright, she propped her boots on the table, allowing the bells to jingle. Bells that only made a noise when she gave them permission. It was how she’d trained herself to make the quietest exits possible. “I’mma think about it, Captain. Proceed with the introductions.”
Derek’s jaw ticked as he eyed Erin’s boots, but he didn’t comment. “Last but not least, we have Austin Shaw. Simply put, Austin is a con. He can weave himself into any situation and immediately belong there. He speaks several languages fluently and the ones he does not, he can pull off an authentic accent for. He’s everything and nothing. A lifeguard, a bartender, a millionaire. He’s exactly what he needs others to see.”
The five of them exchanged baffled looks, but only Bowen spoke up. “You’re talking in the past tense, right?” He scrutinized the hunched-over old man. “No offense, Pops, but unless we’re working a missing dentures case at a retirement home, I don’t see you going undercover.”
Austin took off his hat and tossed it on the table. At the same time, he straightened, his spine shedding all signs of age within a split second. He shrugged off the coat and ran a hand through his tousled brown hair. Erin’s mouth fell open. Austin wasn’t an old man by any stretch. He was a young man…a gorgeous one at that. She caught Connor’s dark frown and shrugged.
Looking like he’d just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine, Austin stacked his hands behind his head, sending Polly a wink as he did so. “Now, ladies and gents,” he said with a faint British lilt. “Any questions?”
Chapter Three
Connor tossed his oversized duffel bag onto the hardwood floor and looked around his new apartment. The police department had rented two units on the top floor of a building in Logan Square where they would live rent-free as long as they were cooperating with the undercover squad. Apparently since Bowen and Sera had already set up home base independently, Derek had anticipated Polly and Erin sharing one remaining apartment, while he and Austin shared the other. The girls had seemed indifferent about the arrangement, quickly gathering their things and heading home to check out the new digs.
He and Austin had been a different story altogether. Neither one of them had cottoned to the idea of sharing space with a virtual stranger they knew next to nothing about, protesting rather loudly when Derek dropped the news. After his little stunt, Austin had turned out to be outspoken as hell, so Connor had just sat back and waited. Derek, needed at another meeting, had basically told them both to fuck off and live in a Dumpster for all he cared. Austin claimed he already had a place to crash, so Connor had taken the apartment for himself.
Not bad. Back in Brooklyn, he’d split time between a run-down one bedroom and his mother’s dilapidated house in the Bronx when she felt too sick to be alone. He’d never lived in this much sunlight. It streamed in from several windows, even a skylight located just above the eat-in kitchen. The furniture they’d provided was functional, which was all he needed. Nothing flashy, just four white walls and a place to lay his head. Each bedroom was about the same size, so he took the one with a view of the street. That way, he could see anyone coming or going.
On cue, he saw Erin and Polly walking up the sidewalk. The giant cup of coffee in Polly’s hand explained how he’d beaten them to the building. Erin stooped down and picked up a short fallen tree branch and lit the end on fire with a lighter produced from her pocket, holding it up like an Olympic torch and jogging in a circle. Without flinching, Polly reached over and doused the flame with coffee.
Connor shook his head. Jesus, how had he forgotten in the space of an hour the effect that Erin had on him? She was a hundred yards away and yet his body reacted like she was naked and straddling him.
Fuck. He shouldn’t have thought of that.
Five stories down, Erin caught sight of him standing in the window and blew him a kiss.
Jesus. She’d be living right across the hall from him. Maybe he should have taken a page from Austin’s book and looked for other accommodations. How would he concentrate with her so close? He’d made only the barest contact with her body and still he knew what she’d feel like. All flexible angles and smooth, supple skin. He’d seen right where he wanted to be that afternoon. Just beneath that patch of denim. He wanted to shove her legs open and bite her there. Make her sorry she ever flashed her sweet spot at him. Make her grateful she had. Everything in between.
Connor stepped away from the window, wishing he weren’t the kind of man who hated the idea of two women carrying their own suitcases up the stairs. If he weren’t, he’d step into the shower and jerk his cock to the fantasy he’d been harboring since leaving the station. Erin on her hands and knees on the conference room table once again. Only this time, she’d be facing the other direction as he fucked her silly from behind. He’d never heard her speak in anything but that throaty purr, but her satisfied screams somehow already rang in his head.
Did it make him sick? He’d never been ashamed of his preference for rough sex before, but Erin had already shown signs of fear from a simple touch. He couldn’t even imagine her reaction if she could see the images his mind refused to stop projecting. Why had she inspired this res
tless urgency in him? The need had always been there, but never so demanding. So necessary.
With a curse, he stomped out of the apartment and down the stairs to help Erin and Polly with their luggage. They sat in the tiny foyer outfitted with mailboxes, perched on their suitcases and drinking coffee. They weren’t talking, Polly looking deep in thought while Erin tried to pick a mailbox lock with her fingernail.
She brightened when she saw him. “Baby, what took you so long?” Her elbow found Polly’s ribs, unseating her. “Told you he’d come down.”
“Yes, our fearless number two in command.” Polly smiled politely. “I’ve heard good things, but nothing directly from you. I don’t think you spoke once during the meeting.”
Connor picked up a suitcase in each hand. “Had nothing to add.”
“No?” She followed behind him. “You didn’t even feel the need to point out he’s turned us into a parody of the Mod Squad? I certainly did.”
Actually, he had noticed. “As long as we’re not required to wear bell bottoms.”
Polly laughed, but it was such a girlish sound compared to her no-nonsense demeanor, he looked back in surprise. Polly didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but behind her Erin had a hand smacked over her mouth to hold in her own laughter.
“What about Derek?” Polly asked. “He’s wearing a wedding ring and I’ll admit he’s quite attractive, but I can’t imagine him with a wife. Seems like he’s already married to his job.”
Connor had zero desire to gossip about the captain’s marital status, so he breathed a sigh of relief when Erin piped up. “We should invite her over for empanadas and find out.”
“That’s a very specific plan,” Polly commented. “But unnecessary. I’d rather hack into her financial records.”
The bells on Erin’s boots tinkled. “More empanadas for me.”
He turned on the landing and went up the final flight of stairs, setting both suitcases down in front of their door. “Check the locks when you go inside and make sure they’re working. Windows and doors. If they’re broken, let me know.”
Erin pulled a bobby pin out of her pocket and inserted it into the lock. Two twists and one jiggle later and the door swung open. “This one is decent.”
Polly dangled a key. “Next time, we could use this.”
Connor decided he better go in and check the locks himself. Erin might be an escape artist, but hopefully not everyone would be able to open their door quite as easily. Otherwise he’d be sleeping on their couch until the locks were fixed to his satisfaction. Being that close to Erin would be the ultimate torture if he couldn’t push her up against a wall every time they were in the same room. As if she could read every last one of his thoughts, she sashayed past him through the doorway, trailing a hand over his abs as she went, sending heat spiraling to his groin. Polly pursed her lips and followed.
Their apartment had the same general layout as his, only it was located at the back of the building, giving them less sunlight. Erin walked into one bedroom and immediately came out looking pale. She stood in the living room a moment fidgeting, before entering the second bedroom. Connor waited for her to come out, barely noticing when Polly rolled her luggage into the first bedroom Erin had rejected. Still no Erin.
Feeling impatient with himself for wanting to follow her into the bedroom even though it was an epically stupid idea, Connor busied himself by checking every window lock and testing the front door from the inside, finding them secure. On his way to double-check the bathroom window, he saw Erin standing in the center of the bedroom, completely still. Facing the small, rectangular window, her shoulders were bunched tight. A coiled spring ready to launch.
“Hey,” Connor said. “You all right?”
Erin spun around. “I’m fine. It’s going to be fine.”
Her eyes were unfocused. He didn’t like it. Which was ludicrous since she’d been like this off and on since he met her. “Everything is secure.”
She smiled, but it looked sad. A little forced. “Not from me.”
“No, not from you.” Go back to your apartment. You don’t know how to comfort anyone. Or why she even needs it in the first place. He cleared his throat, looked away. “I’m right across the hall.”
“I’m aware of that. I’ll probably think about it all the time.”
Her honesty brought his head up. “Why is that?”
She blinked. “Because we kissed. It was all very sexual, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He shook his head, torn between painful arousal and the need to laugh. Where the hell had this girl come from? “You could say that.”
“I just did.” She plopped down onto the floor, pulling her legs up to her chest. “Go back to your apartment, baby. I’m acclimating.”
Connor stayed put a moment, reluctant to leave her alone when she looked so lost. Shit, he just wanted to keep looking at her, period. But when she closed her eyes and started to hum, he felt like an intruder. With a final glance in her direction, he went home to unpack.
It was the sound that sent her over the edge. Every time.
When she was thirteen, the sound had started getting louder. It hadn’t been her first time being locked in the closet, but it was the longest. Her stepfather had left her a packet of ramen noodles and a bottle of Evian. By then, she’d learned to ration and she’d learned the hard way. This time, though, she heard no noises on the other side of the door. No chairs scraping across the floor or water running. By the time she realized her stepfather wouldn’t be coming back, she’d been too weak to do anything about it.
Maybe it was a side effect of dehydration or simply her brain craving some kind of activity. The sound had started quietly, like moth’s wings beating against a screen door. Over the course of time, the volume of it had swelled until it sounded like a biblical swarm of locusts was trying to break the closet door down. She’d made the mistake of trying to drown it out with screams, but it had only grown louder. More intense.
Needing to move, needing to escape the sound, she’d started to kick at the wooden back panel of the closet. Kicking and kicking until the soles of her feet ached. Just as she was about to give up, her foot had broken through into a crawlspace she hadn’t known existed. As she’d sobbed and slipped her way to freedom, the noise had muted. She’d sworn to herself that no one would ever lock her up again. If they tried, she would get free every goddamn time, no matter what it took.
Night had fallen hours ago, but she still sat in the middle of her new bedroom floor. If she looked closely, she could still see Connor’s outline in the doorway, and she wished she hadn’t told him to leave. Safety. He made her think of safety, and she desperately needed to feel it right now. She didn’t do well in new places. Without any knowledge of the various means of egress, hollow spots in the wall, or who lived around her, she felt limited. If her window led to a viable escape route, she wouldn’t be in this state. But it didn’t. Neither bedroom had one, thanks to them being in the back of the building. She’d looked down into an alley surrounded by cinderblock walls and she’d seen a trap. A death trap.
It had shut her down cold, forcing her to tunnel into herself. But she had to get up and move at some point. Sitting here wouldn’t ease the thrashing of locust wings paralyzing her mind. Only finding a safe place would. Move. Move. Where would she go?
Erin rose unsteadily to her feet, stumbling against the bed frame when she found both of her legs asleep. Several minutes later when she could move without falling, she left the bedroom. She paused at the front door, once again attempting to examine this certainty that being around Connor might dull the harsher edges of the sound, the fear, but she couldn’t hear her thoughts over the roar. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she told herself to grow a fucking pair and blinked them back. If she made any noise, she might wake up Polly, and no way could she explain herself. Especially to her new roommate, who so obviously had her shit together.
Only one option.
In a move of desperation, she o
pened the door and closed it quietly behind her. It only took her a few seconds to let herself into Connor’s apartment. As soon as she crept inside, the noise started to recede. She told herself it was the fire escape attached to the living room window and the view beyond that calmed her. The identical fire escape she’d seen extending from his bedroom window, as well. Not his cool, smooth scent that dotted the air. Like freshly sanded wood rubbed with pine needles. She told herself it was the view, the promise of freedom, but she inhaled through her nose like a resurfaced diver as she padded toward the window. She would just curl up here and be gone before Connor woke up in the morning. Easy peasy. The sound died down a little more.
“What are you doing, Erin?”
Roaring. Battering. Her hands flew to her ears to muffle the noise, but it didn’t work. She couldn’t draw a full breath. Connor stood in the dark, shirtless above black sweatpants, talking to her. None of his words broke through. She lurched toward the window and looked out onto the avenue running in front of the building, trying to breathe, but the guarantee of escape didn’t help this time. Connor’s heat at her back should have alarmed her. When the noise got this loud, the fear this great, it took her a long time to come back from it. Miraculously, though, his heat was absorbing it. Taking the weight off of her. Her body sagged back against his in relief, but she batted his arms away when they tried to close around her. Too much. Too soon.
“What do you need?”
His voice bathed her ear with a feeling so delicious, she felt it down to her toes, alleviating anxiety as it went. More…she needed more of him. In her own way. Even as Erin turned to face him, she had no idea what would happen until she saw his concerned face, his masculine lips hovering above hers. “You’re fighting it off,” she whispered. “I thought it was the window.”
“I don’t understand, sweetheart.” He looked frustrated, but not with her. More because he wanted to comprehend. His fingers touched the glass. “Don’t you have a window in your room, too?”
