by Amber Malloy
“He had a gun?” Walked asked, already aware of the details. The police report noted a hole in the molding, but they hadn’t found an actual bullet or even a body.
“Yes, he fired at the door. I ran to the stairwell…but, uh, all of the floors were locked, so I had to go down to street level. It let me out into an alley.”
After two additional shots rang out, the audio went completely dead.
“You didn’t hang up?”
“No, I kept it to my ear, hoping she would still be alive, but…”
As Walker nodded his approval, he leaned over and slipped his phone out of her hand. “That’s enough for now. You did good.” He wanted to hold her but ethically he couldn’t. “You know there was nothing you could have done to save her, right?”
Ashe cleared her throat. “We were given a number to call—or at least I was—in case of an emergency. Since we work on so many international cases, the firm wanted us to be safe.”
Walker didn’t know much about Ashe’s work but he knew that part to be false. Most law firms used private security. Whoever had hired J8 had nothing to do with their actual case. Someone had lied to her. Another piece of the never-ending puzzle he needed to check out.
“Why would they target your partner and not you?”
Ashe seemed to search for an answer but shook her head with a shrug. “We worked together for years. I can’t imagine she’d have facts or evidence that I didn’t.”
“Okay, we’ll start there. What was C.T. working on that you weren’t?”
* * * *
Ashe had attempted to push that night in the hotel to the back of her mind. Often, she found herself pretending it had never happened in the first place. Remodeling Walker’s house had helped. From painting walls to fixing up furniture, she’d thrown herself into each project. That way she didn’t have to relive her partner’s murder every second of the day.
In the blink of an eye her whole world had changed. A mysteriously beautiful man had become her only connection with her not-so-distant past.
She accompanied Walker to the front door. Turning around, he unexpectantly tugged a ringlet that hung loose. “Your hair.”
“Someone suggested I should change my appearance.” Not used to the freedom of her natural curls, she resisted the urge to smooth down her wild mane. Previously stifled by the firm’s buttoned-up environment, Ashe had finally gotten to try Janet Jackson’s warm, honey-color look.
“It suits you,” he complimented her.
Before Walker had ditched her in the Cape, he’d stopped by a convenience store with a to-do list to hide her identity. The suggestion had seemed overboard, but after a month on the run, she understood the need for a glam makeover.
“If anyone asks”—he cupped his hand over his mouth—“aka nosey Tom, tell them I left something important at the office.”
A strange lust twisted Ashe’s gut. A need for him to touch her shook her core. She swatted away that itty-bitty flash of yearning. It eased her anxiety when he was near.
“I’ll be back soon,” he told her. “Promise.”
“Night, Walker.” After he eased out of the door, she wondered how long it would be until the next time she’d see him.
“Goodnight, Ashe.”
Chapter Five
WLK’s trainee went to town on the punching bag. Walker held it in place until the kid wore himself out.
“Time,” Tank hollered at the new recruits. The boy nearly fell into a heap of exhaustion. “Hit the showers.” Twelve newbies peeled out of the gym and headed into the locker room. “This group is hella lightweight, boss. Who brought them in?”
“Who do you think?” Walker told him.
“Maybe they shouldn’t get to pick any more.” Tank pretty much hated their partners, Dan Langley and Chad Wolfram.
While the big man held the punching bag, Walker took his turn on it. “I need a favor.”
“Shoot,” Tank said.
Pounding away at the weighted mass helped him release his pent-up frustration. It felt good to let off some steam. Long-held memories he’d believed he’d buried collided with the present. Walker realized he needed to face his demons.
“Remember the women who went missing?” He put all of the anger and pain into his fist.
“Who? The lawyers?”
“Yeah. I need you to check out the firm and the case they were working on.”
“Do the Chads know?”
“No,” he told him, landing one last blow to the bag.
“Cool.” Tank had named the other partners the two Chads. He didn’t feel he needed to learn both of their names. The idiots were basically using the same brain. Walker couldn’t argue with that logic. The Chads pretty much wanted all of the accolades with none of the hard work.
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to have partners. However, with each passing year, the cracks in the business became more apparent.
“I have a meeting then I’m taking off to the Cape for a couple of days.”
“Did you tell the Chads about that?” Tank asked before stripping the tape from his knuckles.
Yanking off his gloves, Walker grabbed the water bottle he’d placed at the edge of the ring. “No.” He took a swig of water.
“Even better. This place is finally getting interesting.”
“Depends on what you find out about the lawyers, then we’ll have a real wing-ding of a good time.”
Tank’s wide smile showed off every tooth in his mouth. To avoid the impending sing-along, Walker took off for his meeting.
When he’d accepted the partnership, he’d brought Tank into the firm. Dan and Chad didn’t like the muscle man, but Walker didn’t care. He needed him.
Tank had worked intelligence in his military days, and the fact that he could bash heads came as a bonus, not to mention the two Chads had no idea that the big man had bought into the company a few years back. Along with acquiring majority shares, Tank also held a Mensa membership. Walker kept that little grenade of knowledge to himself, ready to lob it at their heads at a moment’s notice.
* * * *
It took Ashe two weeks to collect everything she needed to pull this off. Gloria—two doors down—had pointed her to a good wig place and Olivia—one block over—had told her a great spot for makeup. Lastly, Janice had given her the best store for sweatsuits. After buying one three sizes too big, she’d stuffed the velour fabric to the breaking point. For some odd reason, purple-haired ladies loved the stretchy material.
Two hours away from the safe space of the Cape, Ashe walked into the closest Brawny’s Gym. With her blonde wig and old-lady glasses firmly in place, she anticipated another hour of life circling the drain.
“Do you have any questions?” the gym representative asked after their walk-through. “We can get you signed up right over here.”
“You know, I’m not sure yet.” She’d perfected a high-pitched voice mixed with an odd Brooklyn-cross-Boston accent. “Could you give me a sec to compare prices?” she said, hurting her own ears.
“No problem, ma’am. Just get me when you’re done.”
She hurried over to the guest computers and searched for information on any Jane Does in New York. Several results popped up but none that came close to C.T.’s description.
Ashe cleared the history and searched for news stories on her law firm. After weeks off the radar, there were no mentions of their missing status. Someone had killed the story. However, the law firm had handed off their key presentation to their worst lawyers.
“Have you made up your mind?”
Ashe hit the incognito window and hurried to erase the history before the gym rat could see her screen.
“No,” she said. “I’m going to check out one more place, and I’ll be all set.”
“Oh.” The kid frowned. “I thought you were a sure thing. I can—”
“Give me your card and I’ll call you.”
“Okay. I have one of those.” The representative patted his pock
et. “Hold on real quick. Let me get it from—” He ran to his desk and shuffled around in the drawers.
“Trust me, Cricket. I’ll remember your name.” Ashe waved goodbye on her way out of the door.
“But we have hot naked yoga Mondays. It’s all the rage!” he called after her.
Chapter Six
Still wet from his shower, Walker threw on a white T-shirt and jeans. Walking upstream past the late-lunch crowd, he didn’t hold out much hope for this meeting. To avoid the Chads, he set out for the small vegetarian café a couple of blocks from the office.
“Walker Knight?” Surprised by the blond giant who sat at the small table, he took his extended hand and shook it. “Vann Morgan. Not what you expected, huh?”
“I’ve known Eden a long time and you’re not even close,” Walker replied.
Vann gestured for him to take a seat. The table he’d picked sat farthest back from the sidewalk. “I get that a lot.” He chuckled. “Is it the hair?”
“No, the whole Thor-biker vibe is what’s getting me.”
“Would you like something to drink?” A waitress handed them menus.
He’d had no intention of ordering, but he changed his mind once his stomach rumbled. He quickly ran through his options and picked the easiest plant-based dish he could handle. “Can I get a veggie burger and a”—he scanned the beer and found nothing but organic options—“ginger beer, I guess.” Determined to eat healthy for at least one afternoon, he would get a real meal later.
“The same,” Vann said. They handed over their menus and waited for the waitress to leave.
“To save you some time, I’ll tell you that I’m not giving up Ashe,” Walker told him.
“Yeah, I read your file. I didn’t think you would.”
“Ah, that’s right. You’re the head man now.” Walker had nearly forgotten that Vann had inherited the agency. The grandson of the man who’d put the unit together, Eden’s husband appeared too relaxed to have that insane amount of power at his disposal. Of course, none of that meant shit to Walker, since he no longer worked for them.
“J8 burned Eden. I know how you feel. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust us either.”
Once a top agent, now she’d become a liability. She’d been put out to pasture, and for more than four years Eden had landed on the burn list —the worst place for any spy, especially one with kids.
“Then you know how I feel.” Walker never talked about the reason he’d left the agency, and only a very few people knew the actual story. Ashe had brought all of those long-buried memories to the surface.
“Eden wants the lawyer.”
“If your wife can tell me who tried to kill her, then sure.”
“We’re working on it.” Vann reached for the glass of water in front of him and took a drink. “God, that’s awful,” he hissed.
“Tap water in the city sucks.” Walker chuckled. “And no dice on Ashe.”
“How about this…” Vann sat forward in his seat. “I’ll dig into your fiancée’s death. Raven, right? I’ll tell you what I find.”
“And you think that’s going to cut it? I’m supposed to just believe you?” Memories of his past life with Raven flashed in his head. At one time, the Irish sweetie had meant everything to him. He placed the blame on J8. They’d ruined the happily-ever-after dream he’d wanted. The agency claimed someone had killed her, but he didn’t believe them.
“Hey, man, I’m strictly in New York for an environmental convention.” The waitress arrived with their plates. She set their veggie burgers in front of them. “Saving you from having my wife rip your head straight the fuck off is an added bonus.”
While Vann tore into his burger with wolf-type ferocity, Walker noted the savage gleam in his eye. Reassessing his initial impression, he decided the current head honcho of J8 seemed perfect for Eden.
* * * *
Weather reports claimed an epic storm from the east would hit later in the evening. Around mid-afternoon, a rumble in the sky had shaken the coast. Glad to make it home, Ashe couldn’t get the silly fat suit off fast enough.
As she dumped the tacky monstrosity at the back door, thunder rocked the wood under her feet. She stripped off the rest of her clothes and ran up the stairs. Wind attacked the shutters outside the bedroom windows. Hopping into the shower, she wondered if she’d secured the doors.
As the rain attacked the Cape, water from the shower beat against her skin. She scrubbed the heavy makeup off and worked the suds into her hair.
Somewhere in the house a door slammed shut. Ashe stuck her head out of the shower. “Anybody there?” she asked, that stupid question no assailant answered ever slipping from her mouth. After quickly rinsing the bubbles out of her thick curls, she grabbed a towel off the rack. Other than a few freakishly nosey neighbors, nobody had bothered her. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she stopped at the landing and listened. Other than the soft mewing from the cat she’d stolen, Ashe couldn’t make out anything else.
“Hellooo—”
Someone beat on the front door.
“Sshhh.” A hand clamped over her mouth and pulled her into the corner. She was off her game. She should have heard Walker come into the house. The dark angel towered over her while Ashe’s heart wildly played pinball in her chest.
“Hey, girly, are you okay in there? Do you need any help with the shutters?”
“Tom needs a hobby,” he whispered. “I mean…other than you.”
“Maybe we can catch The Ellen Show to wait out the storm,” the old man hollered through the double doors. “You know, in case it gets worse.”
“I’m guessing Tom’s the scared one,” Walker said.
She couldn’t stop the giggles that attacked her.
“Ssshh,” he warned her, barely choking back a chuckle of his own.
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, I’ll put the family-sized On-Cor in the oven.” The wood porch creaked under Tom’s feet.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Ashe dissolved into a peal of laughter.
“Crap, that was sad.” The full weight of Walker’s stare remained on her face.
Drop the towel, popped into her head. Even though she was horny beyond belief, the scars on her back that she always hid kept her from performing that provocative act.
Twice he’d encountered her damn near naked and had done nothing. Perhaps he wanted to appear professional, but him being simply not interested seemed closer to the truth. If a thin towel and a crazed thunderstorm didn’t force him to make a move, she’d bet nothing would.
While he dazzled her with his perfect smile, Walker closed the inch of space that stood between them. “Why is there a small, furry mountain lion in the guest bathroom taking a dump?”
Unable to control it, a hard belly laugh shook her whole body. She leaned against the wall to brace herself. “Long story…” She finally petered off, close to tears.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got time.” Walker jerked his thumb toward the chef’s island covered with grocery bags. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Chapter Seven
Water beaded on top of her perfect skin. He barely resisted the urge to drag his tongue across her shoulder.
“Let me go get dressed and I’ll help.” Ashe’s words broke into his thoughts. For a moment his mind went blank. He forgot the topic at hand.
After his meeting with Vann, he’d tried to talk himself out of this impromptu visit. Fast forward two hours and he’d barely missed the storm delay that had haunted the airport. A lightning strike had ripped the sky on his hour-long drive to the house. He’d parked the car in enough time to just escape the heavens opening up.
Once he’d stepped into the house, he’d discovered Ashe was upstairs. Walker had attempted to head there but the gigantic cat on the downstairs john had thrown him for a loop. The black-and-gray tiger stared at him from the can with an unblinking glare. Reaching for the knob, he’d closed the door on the Stephen King nightmare.
Thankfully, the sight o
f Ashe racing down the stairs to the banging on the door erased the rest of the circus-type mess he’d encountered moments earlier. Stunned by her beauty, he’d barely grabbed her before she’d given his nosey neighbor an eyeful.
“Sure.” Walker finally rebooted his motor functions. He moved out of her way so Ashe could get dressed, though he didn’t really want to let her go.
Noticing a hint of a tattoo, he couldn’t make out the image that went above the towel line in the back. He didn’t take the clean-cut lawyer for the full-body-ink type, though. Curious.
As he went into the kitchen, the loud meowing from the bathroom caused him to stumble but he recovered. Walker ignored the cat’s pleas. Until he got confirmation that Ashe really wanted the beast roaming free, he’d leave the thing well enough alone.
Walker tore into the first bag of groceries, not entirely sure he could pull off an actual meal. He’d stopped by the store on his way to the house. It had been ages since he’d made anything for himself, let alone anyone else. Whether Ashe never gave him any sign of romantic interest or not, he still wanted to see her.
“Ashe!” Tom flattened his face against the double doors.
In a few short steps, Walker made it to the patio door and yanked it open.
“Oh, Walker, hey! I didn’t know you were home,” the busybody said, clearly flustered.
He noted that the harsh rain had petered out to a small drizzle. “How did you get past the gate, Tom?” he asked, not bothering to greet him. Instead, he backed the old man away from his grandparents’ home.
“The latch is broken. It’s been that way for years,” Tom tried to explain, stumbling past the pool furniture. “I-I told your grandfather, but he must have forgotten to get it fixed—you know, before he got sick.”
A war hero mixed with the worst type-A personality, his grandfather likely wouldn’t have let that sort of detail slip his mind. “You see, the thing is, Tom, that I like to walk around commando a lot. After a hard day’s work, I need the boys to air out.”
