by LJ Evans
“Why did you take a picture of me, Otter?” she asked, chest heaving, stomach muscles flexing.
I didn’t move my legs from their spot on either side of the bench but bent to pick up my phone from where I’d dropped it. When I leaned back up, my lips were a breath away from hers. I placed my elbows on the bench on either side of her, bodies aligning, faces almost touching.
“To show you how strong you are,” I told her, watching her blue eyes flash, watching the desire as it flew across her face.
Then, she lifted her lips and touched them to mine, and all I could do was return her kiss with a harsh one. Harsh with need and desire and anger at how weak I was to be doing the one thing I’d sworn I wouldn’t do. She returned it as if she were equally pissed about kissing me like it was everything she did and didn’t want tangled together.
Her hands at my waist slid under my T-shirt, and my hands slid under her tank. My tongue swept inside her mouth as she gasped at my touch. Energy spiked between us as our muscles dueled for control and for relief all at the same time.
“Bang, you’re dead,” a dry voice said behind me. I immediately released her, swung my leg around the bench so I was facing the door, and slashed out with my fist. It landed on Tanner’s jaw, and he flew back onto a mat.
“What the fuck?” he demanded, bringing his hand up to his chin and rubbing. I’d clocked him good. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bruise in a few hours.
Dani slid off the bench, grabbing her water bottle and her towel.
“That wasn’t funny,” she said, looking at Tanner.
“He gave my team a thirty-minute lecture on distractions. I was just returning the favor.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Dani said, and Tanner’s eyes squinted in anger.
I didn’t say anything because he was right. I’d let my guard down. I’d been so focused on Dani I hadn’t heard him come in. I hadn’t used my situational awareness at all. Instead, I’d been single-mindedly lasered in on her. At sniper school, they taught us that when you shoot out large distances, way past a thousand yards, your bullet will be impacted by the Coriolis effect. It’s where the actual rotation of the Earth impacts the bullet’s trajectory. That was how I felt around Dani, like I was the bullet, and she was the rotation of the Earth pulling me from my intended target.
And I couldn’t let it happen. Not if I meant to keep her safe.
Dani
I TURN TO YOU
”For a shield from the storm,
For a friend for a love to keep me safe and warm,
I turn to you.”
Performed by Christina Aguilera
Written by Diane Warren
The entire crew was packed, checked out, and on the way to Tallahassee by ten. Lee, Brady, and I were in a middle SUV with the driver and Nash. I’d purposefully avoided any need to talk to Nash since he’d left me at my hotel door after our workout.
He didn’t seem to want to speak to me either.
I was angry at myself. I’d initiated the kiss in the fitness room. Just like I’d been the one to initiate things at Tristan’s. That needy-ass ugly duckling inside me was pissing me off. I wasn’t going back to being that girl who’d longed for her sister’s boyfriend to notice her. No way.
But I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t felt good. Kissing Nash was like learning a whole other world existed. One where I could escape into the sensations of touch. One where I could lose control and just feel without any negative repercussions.
“What do you think, Dani?” Brady’s voice drew me from my thoughts. I had no clue what he’d said.
“Sorry, brain zapped out on me for a minute there. What do I think about what?” I asked. Nash’s head swiveled slightly in our direction, his profile visible to me. Strong features. Features that were normally carved out of marble and left for the world to see.
I forced my eyes from their assessment of him back to Brady. If Brady had seemed like a playful golden retriever before, the image was amplified even more by being in the same space as Nash. Not that Brady wasn’t strong and gorgeous in his own way, but it felt beautiful, whereas Nash was majestic. A scarlet macaw compared to a bald eagle.
Brady was trying to hide a smile as his eyes darted from me to Nash and back. I rolled my eyes at him, but it only made his smile widen.
“I was saying I wanted to stop for tacos. There’s this outrageous place a few blocks from the hotel. We could even walk.”
“No,” Nash’s response came from the front.
“No to tacos, or no to walking?” Brady asked.
“No to walking. If you want tacos, it would be better if we left you both at the hotel and brought back takeout.”
“You have to eat them on site. If they get cold, they’re only half as good.” Brady was shaking his head.
“It’s not like it’s a planned stop, Otter,” I said. “I definitely could use some good Mexican food after that workout this morning.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it, because it only served to remind both of us of what had happened before Tanner had interrupted us. My lips began to tingle all over again.
“You worked out together today?” Brady’s eyebrows went up. Lee looked up from his laptop, eyes taking in everyone, and even he ended up with a small smile that made me want to dissuade them of anything they were thinking.
“The Otter told me I couldn’t go anywhere without a member of the detail.” I shrugged and looked back to my phone and the social media account where I’d been posting shots of the Jacksonville concert, ignoring the pounding of my heart.
Brady made a funny noise as he tried not to laugh, and I glared at him. “Laugh it up. It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”
Brady’s face sobered instantly. “I know.”
“Did you sleep with her?” I asked.
Brady looked offended, but I noticed that Lee was waiting for the answer to my question. Brady was shaking his head. “No. Never.”
Lee went back to his computer, and I wondered if that was the actual answer or the answer they’d agreed to with their nondisclosure agreement. In truth, it didn’t matter at the end of the day because Fiona obviously had a thing for him, regardless.
When we got into Tallahassee, Brady got his way, and we stopped at the Mexican restaurant he’d ranted and raved about. It was a little hole-in-the-wall that clearly wouldn’t fit the whole crew, but as many of the team were going with the buses directly to the venue or the hotel, it was just two SUVs that pulled up to the curb.
Marco and Trevor went in first, made sure the restaurant seemed clear, and radioed that we were good to come in. Nash was more alert than ever, scanning both sides of the street, the rooftops, and, once we were inside, the people who were already sitting there.
If I hadn’t had a knife stabbed through my favorite jacket the night before, I probably would have given him a hard time about it.
Nash and two other bodyguards didn’t sit down to eat. Instead, they took positions throughout the room. Tanner, Marco, and Trevor took their spot closer to us. Even with his beanie pulled down low in disguise, people soon recognized Brady because of the obvious security. Lunch was interrupted with a string of people asking for pictures and autographs, including the owner and chef. Brady, as always, was gracious and kind.
I left to go to the restroom in the middle of it all, but when I got back to the table, the food had arrived. Marco quietly asked the people to let Brady eat.
I took a sip of my iced tea and frowned. “What’s wrong?” Brady asked.
“It tastes weird. Too sweet or…” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Probably their mix into the soda machine isn’t right.”
We didn’t think anything of it. I ate my tacos and devoured the warm, freshly made tortilla chips. Brady was right. The food was definitely good. Simple but perfect at the same time. Brady ordered a second round of tacos while we waited for takeout
for Alice. She had the hardest job of anyone, in my opinion. Part travel agent, part janitor, part set designer, and part runner. She made sure everybody and everything got to where they needed to be for the concerts.
As we were waiting, my stomach lurched, twisting so violently I froze. Instead of subsiding after a moment, it got worse, and I knew I was going to be hurling up every single molecule I’d eaten. I made a mad dash back to the restroom. My sudden movement had Nash flying after me, but I didn’t stop at the door. I burst in, found a stall, and had just thrown up when I heard his footsteps entering behind me. His steps were quiet, hardly audible, but somehow I was getting used to them.
Just as I emptied my stomach, my bladder and intestines twisted. I slammed the stall door shut and barely made it onto the toilet in time. My face flamed. Not exactly the way you want any human being to see…hear…or smell you. Even though I couldn’t help it—it was just a bodily function—it was still awful.
“Dani?” Nash asked, feet stopping outside the stall.
I was going to hurl again. There was no way I wasn’t. I needed a basket or a garbage can so I didn’t have to move.
“Is there a small trash can or bag out there?” I asked, my voice wavering as I held in the contents that were set to come purging out of me.
Nash moved away, I heard some pounding, and he came back, sticking a can that must have been removed from one of those under the sink baskets. I took it gratefully, trying not to think about the layer of germs that were probably coating everything. Trying not to think of Nash being on the other side of the door.
Then, I was vomiting again, and all I could think about was trying to stay alive.
“Jesus,” Nash said on the other side. “Can I come in?”
“No,” I said as I heaved again.
“I need to make sure you’re not going to pass out.”
“You come in here, and I’ll find a way to kill you in your sleep,” I said. But talking was the last thing I needed. I was sweating profusely, needing cool air. Needing loose clothing and a wet towel on my neck.
Another wave hit me.
There was a knock on the restroom door, and Nash’s feet traveled to it. There was a hushed discussion I couldn’t bother to understand as I fought to gain some control over my body. Except, my body was winning.
I wasn’t sure how long I was in there—a good thirty minutes, maybe—with Nash standing on the other side, not leaving, not groaning about the smell or the sounds. Just waiting. For a while, I forgot he was there until the waves had slowed.
He handed some wet paper towels under the door. “See if this helps you cool off.”
I grabbed the towels; they did feel good. I closed my eyes as I wiped at my neck, relieved that I’d worn my hair up. Grateful I wasn’t fighting the long strands in a bathroom that had been clean but now smelled like a waste plant.
Eventually, I tried to stand on very shaky feet, putting myself together the best I could. I opened the stall door to find Nash leaning on the sink, both hands at his sides, the knuckles white with how tight he was clutching the counter.
He immediately began assessing me. Head to toe and back. Behind him, in the mirror, I could see my face. Pale, eyes bruised, and I hated that it reminded me of the bathroom at The Oriental. Hated that most public bathrooms did it to me, but especially now when I was feeling unsteady and upset. I took the bag out of the garbage can tying it off and looking around for what to do with it.
“Put it in the big can by the door. I’ve already talked with the owner. They’re going to clean everything after we leave,” he said.
I couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “That’s awful. Cleaning up after someone else. I can run it out to the dumpster.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s obvious you got sick from their food. It’s the least they can do.”
I shook my head. “It’s probably just a stomach bug. I’ve never been sick from Mexican food before, and no one else is sick, right? We’d all be sick if it was the food.”
But I’d talked too much, and my stomach was not having it. I turned back around and threw up in the toilet again. I barely made it, not bothering to shut the stall door. Nash came in behind me, rubbing my back with a surprisingly gentle hand, the warmth bleeding through my thin blouse.
I wiped my mouth with toilet paper and stood up again, bringing us almost nose to nose in the tiny space.
He was squinting. “Maybe we should go to the emergency room.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine once my body gets rid of whatever it didn’t like.”
“The tea. You said your iced tea tasted funny.”
I had. “Maybe.”
I couldn’t get out without him moving. He was blocking me. My body tightened at the thought even though it was Nash.
“I just want to go change and sleep it off,” I told him.
He nodded, backed out, and I went to the sink again, washing my hands, splashing cool water on my face. It messed with my makeup, but I didn’t care. I wiped as much of it off as I could with the paper towels and then headed toward the door. Nash opened it ahead of me, looked into the hall, and then grabbed my hand, leading me toward the back instead of the front.
“Where are we going?” It was almost too much to say at once. I was exhausted, unsure of my stomach, and hoping I could make it to the hotel before another bout hit me. Thank God Brady had said it was close to the restaurant.
“I had the car brought around back so you didn’t have to walk through all the people.”
It was such a nice thing to do. So very considerate that tears started flowing before I could even process them. Once we reached the back door, he looked over his shoulder at me, saw the tears, and stopped. He groaned as if I were torturing him. “Don’t cry. It happens.”
That wasn’t why I was crying. I was tired of needing to be rescued—from bathrooms or elevators or anywhere. I wanted to be able to count on myself. And his kindness was my undoing.
I slid into the SUV, resting my head on the window as he climbed in behind me. I let the cool glass soothe me as we drove to the hotel. When we stopped, I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the room. I was going to throw up again. I dove out of the car with Nash protesting behind me. My eyes scanned the area, found a garbage can by the valet station, and I took off for it. I barely made it as more bile left my body. My legs wobbled, and I had to grab hold of the can to keep myself up. The thought of what was on yet another garbage can I was touching made me shiver.
I turned to find Nash right behind me. I had drawn eyes. People were watching but trying not to watch. At the moment, all I cared about was getting to the room, getting into the shower, and washing away the layers of grime before lying down on cool sheets.
I stepped toward the front doors, and my legs completely gave out, but Nash was right there, catching me, holding me in his arms, and carrying me like a groom carries a bride across the threshold. The thought made me laugh, and my snort caught him off guard.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
He ignored me, and I was exhausted enough not to fight it.
Alice met us inside, obviously expecting our arrival, and I realized Nash must have been texting everyone. I felt a wave of embarrassment again. She handed him two keys. “Thanks, Alice,” I said.
“Don’t worry about anything. Just feel better,” she said.
I nodded and put my head on Nash’s shoulder, closing my eyes. A door slammed behind us, and the sensation of our movement suddenly changed. I opened my eyes to find him going up a set of stairs.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the room,” he said.
“This is the emergency exit.”
“Right. We’re not taking the elevator.”
I hadn’t had to use the elevator once since I’d melted down on him the night before. He’d made sure I used the stairs every time. It made my tears return. He’d been so freaking nice, and I felt bad for ca
lling him an ass in my brain a thousand times over the last few weeks.
I couldn’t avoid the elevator forever. I had to get over it. Nash wouldn’t always be around to fight security on my behalf. And what if I needed to go up thirty flights? It would be unreasonable for a non-SEAL person like me to take thirty flights on foot. I had to find a solution. The meditation app was fine if I was prepared, but I had to find a way to control the emotions so I could get in an elevator prepared or not.
We only went up three flights before he unlocked the emergency door and took us down a plush carpeted hallway to the room. He opened the door and set me down gently inside, holding both my shoulders to steady me. But the motion from the stairs and being put down sent my stomach into a whirl again, and I rushed into the bathroom.
Once I was done emptying my stomach for what felt like the hundredth time, I flushed and just leaned onto the cool ceramic of the tub. The entire room was cool. I undid the straps of my sandals and threw them aside, undid the button on my jeans, and shed those as well.
By the time Nash came in to check on me, I was in a tank top and underwear and didn’t even care. What I really wanted to do was take a shower, but I had to work up to it. I had to store up some energy.
“I’m going down the hall to get ice and a ginger ale. I’ll be right back,” he said.
I just nodded. So tired. Every muscle in my stomach and back was throbbing from the number of times I’d used them in such a short span. The hotel door shut with a bang. I struggled to sit up, taking off my remaining clothes. It took everything I had to get into the shower, letting the pressure of the water soothe me. I grabbed the soap, cleaning every part of me I could, and then sank to the bottom of the tub, hugging my knees, and just letting the water pour over me.
The noise of the shower must have covered the noise of his return because the curtain jerked sideways, startling me and my stomach. It lurched, but it wasn’t enough to send me to the toilet again.
