Enemy Outside (Unseen Enemy Book 2)

by Marysol James

  Jim looked at Kat, worried. She was pale and shaking and seemed to almost be on the verge of passing out. Slowly, he reached out and touched her hand. She jumped and pulled it away, but not before he’d felt how cold it was.

  “Kat?’ he said. “You OK?”

  She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yeah… just freaked out for Liv.”

  Jim believed that she was, but he didn’t believe that was the whole story. “OK,” he said, then hesitated. He wanted to ask her what else was going through that steel trap of a mind of hers, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

  Not now, man. She has to go back to work in a few minutes, and I get the feeling this is a much, much longer conversation.

  Kat tried to focus. “Do Emma and Jenny know?”

  “Liv told Emma this morning, over at Dean’s place. And Chris is at the restaurant telling Jenny right now.”

  She managed a feeble grin. “So you guys split up the tasks, huh? And I guess you drew the short straw?”

  He laughed and despite her shock and horror she couldn’t help but smile at him; his laugh was even rarer than his smile and she always loved to hear it.

  “You know it, sweetheart,” he said.

  **

  Chris Brooker pulled up in front of Jenny’s restaurant and squinted through the massive window, noticing that as usual, every single table looked taken. He knew that this place served up one hell of a Saturday Brunch, and even though he couldn’t actually afford it himself on his garage mechanic’s salary, he’d certainly heard of it. ’Jenny’s’ was famous far beyond the Denver city limits.

  He walked in to the restaurant and saw Pedro, one of Jenny’s wait staff. Pedro grinned over at him and waved towards one of the high stools at the bar. Chris sat down and right away, Deanna brought him a coffee.

  “Hey, Chris,” she said. “You here for brunch?”

  “I wish,” he said. “You know I ain’t got that kind of cash, girl.”

  “Yeah. Me neither. I just nibble from the edges of the buffet when nobody’s looking.”

  They smiled at each other, and as always, Deanna took in his amazing body. She wondered how it would feel to be up against that chest, in those arms. And don’t get her started on the rest of him: clear gray eyes that were steady and gentle, full lips, close-cropped blond hair.

  The man may not be in active military service anymore, but dear Lord, he hasn’t lost one inch of muscle, has he? Ummm.

  From his side, Chris knew that Deanna was a good-looking woman, but she wasn’t really his type. Too thin, for starters; Chris was a big guy, and he liked to be with women with generous curves, women he could get in to bed with and not worry about breaking them in half.

  Jenny was his ideal, actually, with her almost perfect hourglass figure. Slim shoulders, gently-sloped breasts, a waist he was sure he could circle his large hands around. Then an ass that flared out in a firm curve, thighs that just begged for him to crawl in between them. Add in Jenny’s long blonde hair and blue eyes, and you had Chris’ idea of the perfect woman.

  He knew that not everyone agreed with him, including Jenny herself; more than once, she’d called herself fat and he’d gently corrected her. He’d read a few articles about her in some bullshit hipster foodie magazines, and he’d seen her compared to Nigella Lawson – both favorably and not-so-much.

  Her fans and sycophants nattered on about Jenny’s warmth as a person and genuine love of color and flavor and fun, creative food combinations. Her critics and snarky idiots wondered if she was aspiring to be the ‘American Nigella’… right down to the fat ass and tree-trunk thighs.

  It made his blood boil that anyone would think it OK to criticize such a sweet, giving woman, but freedom of expression and all that. Chris was a big believer in individual rights, and he supposed that included the right to be an utter asshole, if that’s what you chose to do with your time on earth.

  “So you here to see Jenny?” Deanna asked him.

  Chris nodded. “She around?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “Of course,” he said. “She really busy?”

  “No, everything’s pretty much done for the brunch. I think she’s just supervising the start of the prep for the catering job tomorrow.”

  “A wedding?”

  “Yep,” Deanna said. “You want to go back and see her?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Dee.”

  “Sure,” she said to his back, admiring those broad shoulders under his black leather jacket.

  Chris nodded at a few of the staff members as he headed to the kitchen. He was pretty well-known at Jenny’s now, and he found he kind of liked that. The people here made a change from ex-Rangers and bikers; God knows his life was populated with plenty of them, and that was cool. But spending time with wait staff who knew every type of wine under the sun and pastry chefs who could prepare delicate desserts from scratch was an education in itself.

  He entered the bustling kitchen, looked around. There she was, and for a few seconds, he just watched her. In the kitchen, the woman was a force to be reckoned with, and he loved to see Jenny in her element. She was confident and in total control, and she ran her staff with more precision than some military operations Chris had been involved in. She looked calm and happy, totally centered and at ease. He wished she could look like that all the time.

  But the truth was that despite knowing Jenny for just over four months, and having been there to support her through Emma’s illness, Chris had never touched Jenny. Not once, not ever. He’d hugged Emma, of course, many times. Liv too, and even Kat, who was the ultimate tough girl with a ‘don’t fucking get near me’ sign emblazoned on her forehead. But Jenny? No way.

  Of the four guys, Chris was the closest to Jenny. He spent the most time with her and often drove her from the restaurant to Emma’s on food deliveries after Emma’s chemo sessions. Without any major discussion about it, the boys knew instinctively that she was comfortable with Chris in a way that she just wasn’t with the rest of them, and they all acted accordingly. They always left an empty chair between themselves and Jenny when they sat in the hospital waiting room, but Chris was able to sit right next to her, no problem. They never offered to help her in kitchens with limited, closed room to move, but Chris could be in her personal space with no major issues.

  No, Jenny wasn’t so good with the other guys, and they were incredibly gentle and careful with her as a result. They’d talked about it once and they all had a pretty good idea what they were looking at: they strongly suspected that Jenny had been raped.

  This speculation was based on more than just observation and guesswork. Chris, Dean, Jim and Dallas had all spent three tours in Afghanistan – the first three men had been Rangers in the same unit, and Dallas had been one hell of a sniper – and they had all received specialized training about how to deal with women who had been raped. It happened shockingly often in war, Chris knew, and the Taliban used it as punishment, as a way to shame and humiliate, as a form of terror, as the surest way to devalue a woman in her own family and village.

  Chris had proven especially adept at getting traumatized local women to relax and talk to him through a translator. Something about him seemed to win their trust, and he was often called in to deal with women who had information that the Americans could find useful, but who didn’t want to let a man anywhere near them.

  He’d learned fast how to keep his distance, make himself seem smaller than he was, lower his rough voice. He’d been angered at what had happened to those women, but also inspired by their courage. He knew damn well that true courage didn’t always carry on a public battle, that some of the bravest acts were internal and silent.

  The guys also had a strong feeling that Emma, Liv and Kat knew exactly what was what with Jenny. Chris remembered how Liv and Kat had stood directly in front of Jenny that first time the
guys had shown up in the hospital, looking to get Dean in to see Emma. They had acted as physical barriers between the men and Jenny, and Chris would never forget the look of abject fear on her face when she first saw them all standing there, huge and muscled. That had been his first clue, and the signs had just multiplied in number since that day.

  None of the guys had brought it up with the ladies. Dean hadn’t even talked to Emma about it, though they were as close as two people could be now. The unspoken feeling among Chris and his friends was that it was Jenny’s business, and they’d never bring it up unless she did first. To do anything different would be yet another violation of her, somehow, and they weren’t about to do that to her.

  But it never stopped bothering Chris; not even for one minute. Every single time he saw her, he ached to hold her close, to offer her some comfort. He longed to tell her that she could trust him, that she’d be safe with him. He wanted to show her that a man could be gentle and caring; he wanted to make love to her and watch her just let go of all her fear. Fly apart in his arms. Feel real, deep pleasure with him, and know that he’d be there to hold her after.

  She turned now and saw him standing there. Those beautiful blue eyes widened a bit in surprise and she smiled at him. Chris watched her walk over to him, and his gaze ran up and down her glorious curves.

  I’d give anything for her to let me touch her. Just once.

  “Hey, Chris,” Jenny said. “You doing OK?”

  “Sure am, sweetheart,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “But I need to talk to you for a minute. You got some time now?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She glanced around, made sure that everything was under control. “My office?”

  “Good.” He followed her down a long hallway and stood well back as she unlocked the door. He watched her carefully, saw how she ushered him in first and then stood close to the open door. He was sure she wasn’t even totally aware that she was doing it, but he’d never known her to let him get between her and the door when they were alone. Not once.

  I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I’d never do that…

  “So what’s up?” she asked.

  In an effort to look less threatening and intimidating, he sat down. He wasn’t at all sure how she was going to react to the news that Liv was being targeted and stalked, but he worried that it may trigger something in Jenny. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice even more.

  “It’s Liv, honey.”

  Jenny took a step towards him. “What about her?”

  He leaned back in the chair. “She’s got a stalker.”

  He watched all the color drain right out of her pretty face and she swayed a bit. It killed him to do it, but Chris stayed in his seat, watched her steady herself against the wall with one trembling hand. His arms were taut with the desire to reach for her, but he knew that she’d never stand for it.

  Jenny took a deep breath, trying to stop the room spinning. The thought that someone wanted to hurt Liv – maybe hurt her the way that Jenny had been hurt just over six years ago – made her sick and furious. She looked over at Chris and felt the insane and surprising urge to curl up on his lap, just press her face in to his broad chest and hide from all the ugly, awful things in the world that scared and hurt women for no reason at all.

  “You OK?” he asked quietly.

  She was back in control of herself now and she nodded. “Tell me, Chris. Tell me the whole thing.”

  He hesitated.

  “Chris.” Her voice was stronger now, her cheeks had some color again. “Tell me.”

  And so he did.

  **

  Olivia rubbed her eyes, feeling exhaustion start to creep up on her now. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep the night before, despite knowing that Dallas was just inside the front door on the sofa and that he had alarms on all his windows. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of malicious eyes on her, and she had lain awake in the dark for hours, afraid to close her eyes.

  When she did finally fall asleep, she dreamed that she was in her bathtub again, unable to move. In her dream, the door burst open and a man with a knife stood there, grinning at her. She’d woken up with a start, wondering how Dallas would react if she crawled on to the sofa next to him.

  Would he take her in his arms and soothe her to sleep again? He was so hard to read sometimes, with those clear blue eyes and crossed arms. He could be gentle and tender, but still… Liv thought that he may not want to blur the line between friend and sofa mate. Or, if she thought about it now, between friend and client.

  She was his client, wasn’t she? He was certainly acting like it: she’d never seen Dallas’ professional side before now, and she was stunned and a bit taken aback at just how impersonal he was.

  He’d always been so easy-going, with a jokey demeanor and a distinct lack of reverence for most things. But today, he was all crisp business and hard-assed, probing questions. Liv suddenly saw exactly how Dallas had built up one of the best and most-respected personal security firms in the country: he was in total control of an out-of-control situation, and that was a hard thing to accomplish.

  Dallas glanced up from his laptop and really took in Olivia for the first time in hours. She looked worn out and almost teary, and he blinked at her vulnerability. He sighed and she looked at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Just thinking that maybe you could use a break. We’ve been going over this stuff for almost four hours now.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

  “OK, then.” He stood and stretched, his t-shirt pulling tight against the muscles on that huge chest. “I’ll cook us some lunch.”

  “You’ll what?” she asked in utter shock.

  “Yeah.” He grinned at her now and she felt like she knew him again. “You still eat carbs, right, darlin’?”

  She laughed out loud. “Only on Saturdays now.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” he asked.

  “As a heart attack,” she informed him. “If I want to keep getting the bikini shoots, I’d better not pad these thighs and butt too much.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “Well, I don’t think it’d hurt you too much to put on a few pounds… you’ve been looking too thin lately.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing it’s been the stress of Emma and the stalker. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thought so. OK, let’s see what I got in the kitchen. Come on, Olivia.” He held out his hand, helped her to her feet. “Good thing today is Saturday, huh? Otherwise I’d probably have to feed you an apple and a lettuce leaf.”

  “Yeah, that was my lunch yesterday.”

  “For real?”

  “Almost.” She smiled at him, her brown eyes dancing. “I also had a glass of water.”

  “Goddamn, girl,” Dallas said. “I’m gonna hold you down and force-feed you pasta, I swear to God.”

  Her stomach jumped at the thought of being pinned under Dallas’ massive body; she thought she wouldn’t mind it in the slightest. She swallowed hard, tried to get her heart rate back under control.

  Liv followed him in to his kitchen and leaned on the counter and watched him root around in the fridge and cupboards, noting how awesome his ass looked in his jeans. He emerged triumphantly holding a package of pasta and some salmon.

  “How about I make a creamy pasta dish?” he said.

  “Really?” she asked him.

  “Yep. I’ve got cream, garlic, olive oil, a bottle of white wine from a client that I’ll never fucking drink, ‘cause I’m a beer guy… I think we’re good.”

  “Sounds great, Dallas.”

  “OK,” he said. “Go sit down and relax. I’ve got this.”

  “I can help…”

  He shook his dark head. “No, go sit. You’ve had a hell of a night and morning. I have some red wine too – same client,
if you can believe it – so I’ll bring you a glass, yeah? Unless you like your white wine unchilled?”

  She stared at him, and to her horror, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Dallas saw them and looked alarmed.

  “Hey, what’s wrong? You OK?”

  She nodded, hesitated, shook her head.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have no idea which way is up right now, huh?” He opened his arms. “Come here, baby.”

  Olivia closed her eyes as he held her to him. She took a deep breath and inhaled that amazing scent that was pure Dallas: musk, lime and soap. It was strong, tangy, clean; she loved it, couldn’t seem to get enough of it. She’d recognize him in pitch darkness, she was sure of it.

  Dallas rubbed her back, thinking about nothing except making sure she felt secure again. “I’m here with you, Olivia. You’re OK now… you’re safe. He can’t get to you, alright?”

  She nodded against his shoulder, gripping him close. She took another deep breath, then pulled back a bit. “I don’t think I’ve said this properly yet, but… thank you, Dallas. For – for everything. Coming when I called, and for calming me down last night. For letting me stay here… for it all.”

  He used both of his hands to smooth her long hair back off her stunning face. “It’s no problem, baby.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Anything you need.”

  They stared at each other now, so close that they felt the other’s breath on their face. Dallas felt his heart rate speed up slightly, and Liv’s legs suddenly felt wobbly under her. Being close to Dallas was such an amazing experience, she’d discovered: the man was all taut muscle and raw, primal strength. She felt so feminine next to him, soft and small. She’d never felt as safe and protected as she did when she stood in the circle of his arms.

  Just then, Dallas’ cell rang in the office. He started, let her go.

  “I’d better get that, darlin’,” he said. “I’ve got a team over at your house now, and I’m expecting them to report in.”