The Hitman's Mistake

by Sally Brandle

  “I don’t see a ring on Miranda’s finger,” Jesse had raised his voice. He smiled and winked at Grant. “She’s smart and pretty freakin’ hot. I should get her phone number.”

  Grant’s eyes widened, then he relaxed. “Her number’s none of your business. She’s not going to be another one of your conquests,” he announced.

  “Got it.” Jesse rubbed his chin while he stared at Grant. “You and Miranda take the twin beds.”

  At the word ‘beds,’ Grant’s pulse jumped. If Jesse read minds, he’d be on his way home to guard the mule instead of Miranda. He let out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Duty continues,” he muttered under his breath.

  “All’s quiet. Goodnight, everyone,” Jesse said.

  Grant crept to the side of the couch and knelt by Miranda. The pink in her cheeks gave her eavesdropping away. “How’s my damsel in shining armor? Any pain?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Damsel in dirty dungarees.” She stretched a little yawn into a deep breath. “The couch is comfy, and I’m a little stiff, but everyone’s safe.”

  “Whatever happens, I’ll protect you.” He slid next to her, allowing her warmth to overshadow his secrets. “Can you trust me?”

  Distress tightened her face. “I know you’ll put your own life in front of mine. It’s your job.”

  His job. How easy it’d make things if that’s all she meant to him. The chasm she’d opened in his heart expanded each moment he spent with her. “Jesse prefers for you to sleep in Kyle’s room. If you want, I can crash in the extra bed. I promise I won’t snore. Your choice.” He held his breath.

  “I’d like you near me.” Her wide eyes held the scared look again. “It isn’t an inconvenience?”

  To hell with the bruised ribs. He scooped her up from the couch and headed into the hallway. “You’re not an inconvenience and won’t ever be.”

  “Put me down, I’m not feeble.”

  “Habit, I guess.” His grip held firm. “Hey guys? Miranda’s exhausted, so we’re turning in for the night.”

  “We’ve got everything covered,” Jesse said from the kitchen.

  Grant stopped. Jesse could’ve made it easy on him and bunked Bullseye with Miranda. Nope. Time to get even. “Put Roy Werner’s cat in the laundry room before you button everything up.”

  “There’s a cat?” Miranda asked.

  Guarding her all night would fall between penance and paradise. He smiled at her. “No housecat, but observation training never ends. The absence of food bowls or a litter box will strike one of them by dawn.”

  “Bad Agent Morley,” she snickered.

  He grinned at her. And boy, when she grinned back, heat radiated to every cell in his body.

  Her fingers tightened on his neck, sending the jolts deeper.

  In Kyle’s old room, he slid her to the floor.

  Glass-doored armoires filled by Roy’s clocks lined the walls. The two beds were pushed together in a corner.

  Not two inches of space separated them.

  She pointed to a framed photo inside one of the cases. “I recognize Kyle, who’s the man next to you?”

  “My partner, Bo Jackson. He’s the one who got nailed while guarding the judge’s hospital room.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Damn. “I’m sorry, too. Injuries come with the badge. While he’s on the mend, the crooks will be brought to justice if it’s the last thing I do.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Your life’s a constant gamble against violence.”

  “After I reach ASAC, it’ll be primarily tactical planning.” He took off his Kevlar and placed his badge on the nightstand. “My job’s still mostly patience and paperwork.”

  “Yeah, right. Not my impression. My shoulders ache worse than if I’d been toting a backpack full of cement.”

  “I can help.” He flexed his fingers and moved a length of silky hair away from her neck. She sat still while he massaged kinks in her tight shoulders.

  “You carry too much misplaced guilt. None of this is your fault.”

  “You’re very convincing,” she whispered.

  “I’ve spent years in the bureau learning to tie loose ends into tight knots. I used to enjoy helping others unravel their problems.”

  “You didn’t lose your touch.” Her shoulders relaxed under his circular strokes.

  “I filled the last ten years with work. You made me realize I’ve missed love and compassion. And my family.”

  “Good,” she whispered.

  He glanced away, to his badge. “I’ve got to get us through the trial before I dissect my personal life.” He dropped his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned. Anguish shone in her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. But I understand.”

  No, she’d never comprehend the intensity of the two forces battling inside of him. His career drive under shadowed a need to help her overcome her fears and then pursue a list of tantalizing possibilities.

  New and distracting feelings. Frustration welled in his gut. He needed time to ratchet down a notch, or ten. “I’ll give you privacy to get settled.”

  He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut, his fist clenched. He’d found the right woman, at the wrong damn time. Maneski would go balls out to assassinate Miranda and his folks. They’d all made the hit list. Him, too. He’d hold himself in check, get the trial over. Keep them safe.

  ~ ~ ~

  Grant hadn’t returned from the bathroom. His absence hung like a dead leaf waiting to fall. She didn’t want to sleep without him by her side ever again. Maybe an impossible dream. You didn’t change a person on a defined life path and the will to make it happen. Could they compromise using love?

  A pair of pink pajamas lay on the pillow. She pulled them on and realized they must’ve belonged to Kyle’s mother.

  She studied an old photo of the grinning young men. They’d sworn allegiance to quell a turbulent urban world, putting relationships secondary.

  A family of her own would bring her happiness. The idea had germinated in the woods while under Grant’s tender care, then grown watching Grant and his folks. If his mom thought she brought out the warmhearted side of him, she’d try.

  Grant knocked on the bedroom door.

  “Enter at your own risk,” she called.

  He stepped inside and pulled the door shut. Worry lines creased his brow.

  So easily he tangled her emotions into a knot. “You look tired. I’m sorry I’m such a needy wimp,” she said.

  “No apology necessary. Ever. Jesse stationed a patrol outside. You may see them pass by the window.”

  “I thought I heard something.”

  He pulled off the towel draped around his neck and twisted it until his knuckles turned white. “I can’t compromise this case with another misstep. My first priority is your protection. But Miranda, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t extremely attracted to you.”

  Desire shone in his eyes. She clutched her soft collar.

  He uncurled her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I haven’t been trained in this kind of restraint. When I touch you, I lose touch with my job.”

  “Case before involvement.” Her chest grew tight. “Okay.”

  “No, not okay. I see hurt in your eyes.” He lifted her chin. “Do you have feelings for me?”

  A different Grant demanded an answer. The one she’d begun to love. She swallowed. “You’re the man I dreamed about after studying you in the Justice Building. It wasn’t how your team looked to you for leadership, I sensed much, much more.”

  “Do you still feel that way?” His eyes pleaded for the answer she longed to shout.

  Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him for the first time. Soft inte
nsity grew while she parted her lips and drew him in. Womanly instincts flared in her soul, the curling flames awakening dormant sensual desires.

  His fingers gripped her waist, pulling her to his chest. He lifted the pajama top and with each stroke of his thumb to her skin, passion ignited deep within her.

  All she wanted was Grant. All of him.

  Her hip bumped his holstered gun. Her body tensed. She released her fingers from his neck and splayed her hand onto the wide-muscled expanse of his chest—strong, warm, and powerful.

  When she pushed away, fiery red passion blazed in his eyes, the same which flared deep inside her. “Damn you, Grant Morley, for painting my gray world into intense, wonderful colors.” She brushed her fingers across his lips.

  He cupped her chin, his breaths ragged. “Kaleidoscope patterns, that’s what goes on in my head when we touch. The trial better be quick.”

  “And then you’ll be after the next mobster, while I worry.”

  “Hey, you’re seeing the worst,” he said.

  She shook her head and shuffled to the bathroom. Grabbing the edge of the sink, she stared in the mirror at her sallow skin and bleary eyes. Her worst damage lay deeper, and he’d glimpsed the extent.

  Grant wasn’t a player. He wouldn’t have spoken if he hadn’t meant the words. Could she become strong enough to live in his world?

  The shower stall beckoned with gallons of warm water to wash her doubts away. Buried deep inside lived the girl who always longed for a husband and kids, a yard, and a puppy. Grant had hinted at the possibility.

  Another yawn nearly tipped her over. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and returned to the bedroom.

  He stood at the bedside, holding an old-fashioned alarm clock. Lamplight outlined his shirtless back. He turned, and his gaze traveled over her.

  Shields she’d built to protect her heart collapsed. A man worth any effort stood before her.

  He must’ve read her mind.

  The clock slipped onto the nightstand and tipped to the edge. He twisted to grab it, and light shone on bruises covering his chest.

  “You’re hurt badly. My fault, all my fault.” She put her hand out, needing to stroke the pain away.

  “Please let it go, Miranda.” He stepped back. “I’d prefer if you took the bed against the wall. I’ve had worse bruises.”

  “Worse? And no one to soothe them.” Miranda crawled over the first bed and slid under the comforter of the other one. “I led the attacker to you.”

  The light went out. Air stirred after he threw back the comforter on his bed. “Listen, Dad nailed it in the diner. You’re an unwilling participant in Maneski’s plan, and you saved Judge Gilson.”

  “And met you.”

  “Finally.” Grant cleared his throat. “For months, I watched you peer through those plants. I longed to pull you through and dance you across the lobby.”

  Her heart fluttered. “Oh, I used to love dancing.”

  “Let me get us through the trial. Afterward, we’ll go dancing to celebrate.” He released a long sigh. “You’ve haunted my dreams since I first glimpsed you,” his husky voice whispered.

  Her body tingled from the full out assault from Agent of Interest, the sexy, 2.0 edition. “I never knew.”

  Only a five-inch gap hindered an exploration of the seductive features. The craving for more of his kisses sent spirals of need through her—molten, golden pools. Her fingers pushed back her comforter.

  ~ ~ ~

  Grant calculated where Miranda’s soft body parts would sink into her mattress. Her berry-scented kiss lingered on his lips.

  Stop it, Morley. He threw off the sheet. Being naked in a cornfield during an arctic winter wouldn’t help him chill tonight. “Need another blanket?”

  “The temperature’s fine,” she said.

  He stretched his arms alongside his body, concentrating on the crisp texture of the sheets.

  These weren’t the flannel sheets his mom insisted he use for winter. His mom, who’d nearly died because of his mistakes.

  Miranda cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t have survived all this without you. Thank you, Grant.”

  “You don’t know how welcome you are.” Yearning grew in his heart. “After the trial, I’ll make an attempt to show you.”

  Miranda shifted in her bed. “Deal. By the way, I never said I didn’t snore.”

  “As a matter of fact, I know better. Night.” Grant forced a chuckle, he had to appear normal. He stared into the dark.

  For the umpteenth time, he played out scenarios to guard them in Seattle. The mole would know their game plan.

  The furnace kicked on, breaking the rhythmic tick of the clock. Miranda finally took the regular breaths of deep sleep.

  All those he loved remained vulnerable to The Butcher’s wrath. Angst overwhelmed him, the likes of which he’d never experienced. He could lose them all, at any moment.

  Chapter 15

  Grant closed his eyes and woke with Miranda pinned against his body, his arm draped over the slip of bare skin peeking above the waistband of her pj’s.

  Soft hair brushed his cheek and her smooth skin created a silken state of heaven.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Her lips parted.

  If he pulled her closer, he’d taste her sweetness again.

  In one motion, she pressed her palm into his chest, rolling him onto his back. His butt straddled the narrow space between the beds.

  Daylight.

  She poked his ribs.

  “What?”

  “You’re hogging my bed.”

  Heat rose in his face while he quelled unwelcome surges of interest. He scooched onto his bed, threw his legs over the side, and opened the door. “I’ll shower first. I need to confer with Jesse.” He dashed out.

  Miranda had rinsed out her lace panties and hung them on the shower head. He moved them to the towel rack and shook his head, getting his focus back to business.

  Staying awake all night shouldn’t have been difficult, regardless of sleepless nights since he’d met her. He’d stumbled and fallen in—way, way too deep.

  His brain had checked out, and his libido had clocked in. Fatigue dovetailing into an irresistible opportunity?

  No. He admired her courage, and how much she cared for others. The possibility of loving her didn’t scare him. He turned the shower knob to the coldest setting to rinse off, dressed, and then ran hot water for her in the tub.

  He knocked on their bedroom door.

  “Enter.” She sat upright in bed. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s too early to bother the Langley’s yet for your stuff. I started the water, if a bath’s appealing to you. I’ll see if Kyle left any clothes in here which might work.”

  “A bath and something besides muddy pants to wear would be heaven, but I need a bigger favor. Trey Langley doesn’t appreciate Red. If you can find a temporary pasture for him, I’ll buy him and pay board.”

  The sooner he escaped her pleading eyes the better. “I’ll make it happen. Poppy can take care of him during the trial. Water’s running.”

  “Thanks. I could build a nest in my hair.” She lifted a tangled lock and crawled out of bed.

  When the door closed behind her, he pulled open a dresser drawer and removed running leggings and a University of Washington sweater.

  He stood on the other side of the bathroom door. “I left duds for you outside the door. See you in the kitchen.”

  “Great,” she replied.

  Get back on your game, Morley. A shooting range with Venom’s face on a target and a hundred rounds would work.

  The aroma of strong coffee reached him from the kitchen. He adjusted the Glock holster and glanced out a window to a picturesque, frosty morning.
<
br />   Roy’s mulch pile sat at the edge of the garden. Strands of frozen straw jutted out from the edges. It reminded him of the heap of manure where Miranda had hidden the crook who’d messed with Red.

  Life should be gentle in Emma Springs, or boring like he remembered thinking as a kid. What he’d give for a bale of mundane, instead of what faced him in the kitchen.

  Bullseye sat at the dining room table, and Jesse stood at the stove.

  Damned if Jesse didn’t fit Bullseye’s nickname, PB&P, for “Pretty Boy and Packing.” When had the squirt buffed out?

  “Roy told me to make myself at home.” Jesse turned the gas flame to low. “Sleep well, boss?” he chided.

  Grant leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. “I heard Roy come in.”

  “Alert as always,” Jesse said.

  “I didn’t want to disturb Miranda by greeting him.” He rubbed the area on his chest where Miranda’s fingertips had pushed.

  “Bullseye spotted a figure crossing behind the house at dawn. Might’ve been a neighbor.”

  “Or Karpenito. Great way to start the day.” Grant rubbed his eyes. “Any word on his whereabouts?”

  “No.” Bullseye’s keen brown eyes sighted in on his face, as if positioning cross hairs on a target. “Is Miranda suspicious?”

  Grant stared back. “Couldn’t say. You’re the one with female intuition.”

  Jesse snorted. “About the stopping power and range of a Hornady A-MAX 308 bullet.”

  “Jealous ‘cause I’m a better shot?” Bullseye teased.

  Grant shook his finger. “Quit fighting, children. Jesse, when Miranda appears, I have to stir those eggs. I promised her a good breakfast yesterday and got interrupted.”

  He pulled a mug out of the cupboard and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Hate the stuff, but maybe the caffeine will clear my head.”