by Ella Frank
I would do a quick sweep of the place now, then grab a shower and meet him when he woke, and everything would go back to normal.
I was sure of it.
22
Xander
THANK GOD FOR caffeine. Glorious, glorious caffeine.
I inhaled the freshly brewed coffee and stared out at the city below, thinking how strange it had been to open my bedroom door this morning and find Sean nowhere in sight.
In all fairness, I had been a little early, and he had left a note on my door: House is clear. I’ll be out soon. So maybe he was sleeping in. If his night was anything like mine, I wouldn’t be surprised.
I hadn’t slept a wink after what had happened. But as I stared down at the city below, I was cognizant of the fact that it wasn’t just the shock of the attempted hit-and-run that had kept me awake, but what had happened after that.
Stupid. That was how I felt. We had nearly been mowed down last night, and all I could focus on was how it had felt lying beneath Sean on the concrete.
He had brushed it off, of course. Why wouldn’t he? He’d probably dealt with this kind of thing before. Women and men he’d saved, developing some kind of crush or…fixation. Plus, it wasn’t like he had any delusions that I was hot for him. This was Sean, for heaven’s sake.
The problem was that my body seemed to conveniently forget that whenever he was near lately, and instead was focusing on how warm his hand was when it took mine, and how strong and brave he was whenever he talked about being here to protect me.
Hell, maybe I was developing some kind of damsel-in-distress fetish. That was the only reasonable explanation as to why I was suddenly hyperaware—and strangely attracted to—a man I’d spent most of my life barely tolerating. It had to be residual emotions from last night. A thing for my mind to focus on so panic and paranoia wouldn’t set in. But that didn’t explain last weekend at Bailey’s.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I blew the top of my coffee and took my first sip, and as the strong flavor hit my tongue, I hummed in the back of my throat.
Damn, I needed that. With my nerves shot and my mind scrambled, I had a feeling that by the end of the day several cups of this were going to be the only things keeping me going.
“You’re up earlier than usual.”
I turned to see Sean walking into the kitchen in those loose navy sweats and CPD t-shirt, and if I’d been hoping to feel nothing—or at least idiotic for being aroused by him last night—I was in for disappointment.
The second I took in the sight of the way his chest and arms filled out his shirt, my erection began to throb. Shit.
“Xander?”
When I didn’t immediately answer, Sean started around the end of the kitchen counter.
“Have trouble sleeping?”
“I, uh…yes. I couldn’t sleep.”
Sean’s brow pinched. “Are you okay?”
Other than suddenly finding you irresistible, and some creep stalking me? Sure, I’m fine.
“Xander?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine. Just everything that happened last night, that’s all.”
“That’s understandable.”
I nodded but couldn’t seem to find my tongue to respond. God, this was mortifying. Why was my body reacting this way? And why to Sean?
Sean, for God’s sake.
Silence filled the room, and I took a sip of my coffee for something to do as Sean headed back into the kitchen.
As he got a mug out, then the milk and sugar, I continued to watch him, trying to work out what it was that had shifted in the universe to suddenly make me see Sean as anything other than an annoying presence.
But the more I watched, the more I felt this absurd desire to move closer to him. Like I was tethered to some pulley that was drawing me closer whether I wanted to go or not.
“So I called up a buddy of mine, Nichols, from the station last night when you went to bed,” Sean said as he reached for the pot and poured some coffee. “I didn’t get the entire plate, but I got a good chunk of it, so we’ll see if he can dig anything up.”
His back was still to me, and as I walked across my living room, my eyes traveled down the long line of his back to his trim waist, and when they kept going to his surprisingly tight ass, I ran into the side of my couch. “Shit.”
As my coffee slopped over the rim of my mug and onto my lustrous white rug, I cursed again and put it down on the end table.
“What happened?”
“Just bring me some paper towels. Hurry.”
He tore off a good wad of paper, and when he held it out to me, I looked up just in time to see I was directly in line with the crotch of his sweats.
I jerked back as though he were going to hit me, and when Sean frowned and leaned forward, thrusting the paper in my face, I told myself to snap the hell out of it and took it from him.
“Thanks,” I muttered, and started to blot up the coffee. This was going to be hell to get out. I’d need to call someone, have it professionally cleaned.
“What happened? You trip over your own feet?”
I shut my eyes and sighed. “Something like that.”
“Hey.”
With the paper towel still soaking up the moisture, I raised my head but didn’t open my eyes until I knew they were safely above Sean’s waistline. “Yes?”
Sean crouched down until we were face to face, and as his eyes roved over me, I bristled under the attention. Honestly, though, what was I afraid of? That he could read my mind? Hardly. And there was no way on God’s green earth that Sean would ever suspect me of having spilt my coffee because I was checking him out.
So I needed to relax. I needed to fucking breathe.
“Last night still got you jumpy?”
Yes. One part more than the other, apparently. But thankfully, I was aware enough to stop those words from tumbling out of my mouth. “I guess so.”
Sean nodded and moved the paper over a little to where the liquid was spreading. “If it’s any consolation, it shook me up too.”
“Really? You seemed pretty together to me.” I gathered up the towel and sat back on my heels. “In fact, if it wasn’t for you and your quick thinking, I wouldn’t have been here to ruin my overly expensive rug now, would I?”
Sean chuckled, and the sound was familiar, warm, and…comforting. “I suppose not. But I want you to know, nothing’s going to hurt you, okay?”
“I—”
“Listen.” Sean took hold of my wrist. “They have to get through me to get to you, and I’m not about to let that happen.”
The sincerity of his words was staggering, as was the realization that if Sean were to put himself between me and danger, then his brothers—two men I considered my family—would be minus someone they loved, and I couldn’t fathom that.
“I know you were hoping this lunatic was gone, that he’d decided to move on, since we hadn’t heard anything from him. But I was waiting for this, Xander. Waiting for him to make a move so I would have something solid to investigate and dig a little deeper on.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “I understand that. It’s just…” I tried to think of the best way to say it.
“What? What is it? And don’t say nothing. There’s a reason you didn’t sleep last night, and I want to know what it is.”
“I was just going to say that I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt. I’d never forgive myself.”
Sean’s lips curled into the smirk that usually coincided with a remark that made me want to punch him. But instead of dreading what was about to fly out of his mouth, I felt my pulse begin to flutter.
“Aww. Are you admitting that you might like having me around a little?”
Despite the early hour, the coffee stain on my rug, and the fact that my body was doing things that might lead to eventual therapy, I laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. You sure that car didn’t clip you last night? Maybe in the head?”
Sean straighten
ed to his feet and held his hand out to me for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and as I took it and stood, he said, “My head’s just fine. It’s yours we need to worry about.”
He took the soaked towels from me and headed back to the kitchen, leaving me thinking he just might be right. Maybe I did get clipped in the head, and that was why my body was acting this way.
But that still didn’t explain last weekend, did it?
Yes, I had a feeling that a lot of therapy was in my future.
23
Sean
MARCUS ST. JAMES was one seriously cool customer. From the second I’d stepped into his office last week, to right now, as he stared me down from behind steepled fingers, I felt like I was about to be reprimanded by my commander down at the precinct.
There was no warmth about the guy, no welcome in his eyes, and as far as I could tell, he was straight-up business, and serious business at that.
“You said you got a license plate?” Marcus’s tone was cool and, I was sure, intimidating to most, but if he thought I was about to piss my pants over the likes of him, he had another thing coming.
“I got half a license plate. My guys are working on it.”
“And Xander? How is he today?”
I thought about the unusual way Xander acted when I first came into the kitchen this morning. I’d thought that maybe I was giving off some vibe that I’d woken up with a hard-on courtesy of the dream in which he had the leading role.
But that was just my own foolish paranoia. It was pretty obvious after the little coffee incident that Xander was still rattled from last night’s attempt on his life. He’d seemed almost dazed, and a little confused, as he’d knelt on his floor mopping up the stain on his—no doubt expensive—rug. But after he’d talked it out and eaten some breakfast, everything had seemed to go back to normal.
Well, except that I couldn’t seem to stop myself from checking in on him when I knew he wasn’t looking. Or that was what I told myself I was doing every time I caught myself studying him from afar.
“He seems fine,” I finally answered. “A little shaken, but that’s to be expected.”
“Right.” Marcus pushed back from his desk and got to his feet, his broad shoulders testing the fabric of his suit jacket as he clasped his hands behind his back and made his way to his office’s enormous window. “Another message came through the website last night. An email this time.”
My spine stiffened, and when Marcus turned and pinned me with his grave eyes, I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say.
“It appears your little ruse is working. A hit-and-run attempt and a ranting email all in one night? Seems your presence here has pissed this guy off. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The blunt way in which he questioned my ability to do my job made me bristle. I didn’t appreciate some stuffed shirt implying that I didn’t know what I was doing. Especially when it came to looking after one of my own. The only reason I’d sat here this long was because the guy was footing the bill. Oh, and also because Xander had threatened my life if I did anything to get him fired.
“My plan is working, you’re right,” I said, getting to my feet. “We needed this creep to make himself known again. We needed a lead beyond a couple of threatening messages on a Twitter account, and it seems like we got it. I’ve been dealing with the scum of the earth a lot longer than you have, and trust me when I say I will put myself between it and Xander in a heartbeat. Can you say the same?”
Marcus was unflinching as he walked back to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper, which he held out to me. I went to take hold of it, and he didn’t immediately let go, pinning me with calculating eyes.
“How do you know Alexander?”
“Excuse me?”
“Alexander. How do you know him?” The gaze that traveled over me was unreadable, as was the expression on his face. It was unnerving, but too bad for him: my nerves were like fucking steel. “When I told him to hire a bodyguard, he went directly to you. You’re a cop, or so your background tells me—”
“I’m a detective,” I said, wondering what the fuck he was getting at.
“Same thing.”
“It’s really not. I’ve got years of experience hunting down the worst of the worst under my belt, and I’ve been in situations that would make you shit your expensive business suits. So if you have a point to make, make it. Or give me the fucking letter.”
Marcus didn’t flinch, nor did his expression change. It was like he was carved out of stone. “My point is that I don’t know you. I didn’t vet you. So I want to know how Alexander knows you. It’s obvious you’re no stranger.”
About done with his questions, I aimed my best fuck you look his way, channeling my inner Detective Dick, who I’d put on the back burner as of late.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I yanked the paper out of Marcus’s hand. “I’m here to do a job, and I’m doing it. So instead of questioning me, or acting like you think you’re somehow superior, why don’t you stay in your lane and I’ll stay in mine? Now let me look at this latest email.”
Marcus released the paper but remained silent.
Alexander…we need to talk.
Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been parading this new man of yours around under my nose. So fucking pleased with yourself, aren’t you? That you’ve finally snagged a real man. A brave man. One who jumps in front of cars for you…
I bet a man like that is really good in bed too, huh? Strong, powerful—do you like that? Someone who takes control? Because you know what, Alexander? I can do that. And I bet I can do it better. Maybe you can tell me how I measure up when I tie you to my bed and fuck you right through it. Sound like a good plan? I think so.
I don’t know why you had to go and make me compete for your affection like this. But I understand now, and I’m willing to do what it takes, because you’re meant2bemine, and by the end of this you will be.
As I scanned the words twice over, nausea rolled in my gut. This crazy fucker was delusional, and the sooner I caught him, the better I’d feel about all this.
I folded up the message and looked to Marcus. “Is there anything else?”
Marcus briskly shook his head, and I turned on my heel and headed for the door. But just before I walked through it, I stopped and looked back at him.
“Oh, and one last thing. If you’ve got a problem with how I’m conducting this detail for Xander, get the fuck over it. Because I’m not going anywhere until this motherfucker is caught or rolled away in a body bag. Got it?”
24
Xander
“SOOO, TELL ME about this sexy new guy you’ve been spotted canoodling with around the newsroom while I’ve been away. Ryan won’t give me anything.”
“Canoodling? I don’t think so.” I stared in the mirror at Cynthia, my hair and makeup stylist, and rolled my eyes. “You’re back one day from your Tahitian vacation and you’re already sniffing around for gossip. Why am I not surprised?”
“I have no idea. I’m more surprised that you were able to keep a secret this big and…strong away from me.”
Big, strong, and sexy? Were we really describing Sean? But as I thought about the way he’d thrown himself in front of a car for me last night, and how he’d looked in my kitchen this morning in his sweats, those adjectives seemed frighteningly accurate.
“Hello, earth to Xander.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t kiss and tell.”
Cynthia laughed. “Since when? Were you, or were you not, the one who told me what a good kisser Benton Hale from ABC News was?”
I opened my mouth to deny her claim, but couldn’t. “That was one time, and only because it was—”
“Benton Hale?”
“Shh,” I said, and turned to look around her.
“Oh, relax and face the mirror. No one’s in here, and you’re on in twenty. I need that time to make you look good.”
> I aimed my most withering stare her way, and when she smiled sunnily, I groaned and slumped back in my chair.
Cynthia had been my stylist for as long as I could remember. She knew all my secrets—well, the ones I was willing to talk about—and I trusted her like a sister. She was smart, funny, and honest, and the fact that she could make me look good after being awake for twenty-four hours covering a monstrous hurricane down in the gulf made her invaluable to me.
She was a true friend, and the fact that I had to lie to her right now made me feel like a total shit.
“Now. You were telling me about…”
“Nothing?”
“No, that doesn’t sound right. I believe you were telling me about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dreamy, and whether or not you are going to be making this public on Saturday night at the NPF Awards. Now there’s a man who would look good in a tux.”
Oh shit, with everything that had been going on, I’d completely forgotten about the award show. The National Press Foundation held it every year, and not once had I taken a date. But deciding to tackle the least difficult part of the conversation first, I said, “Can we please not call him that?”
“What? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dreamy?”
“Yes. That.”
“Oh, come on. He walked you up to work today. If that isn’t dreamy, I don’t know what is.”
I bet she’d think it was much less dreamy if I told her Sean was here because Marcus had demanded a full brief on how we’d almost been run over last night. Oh, and the fact that he wasn’t my boyfriend but my bodyguard, and the annoying older brother to my best friend who I’d known since I was a teenager.
Yes, all of that definitely made the fact that he’d escorted me up to my office much less dreamy. But since I couldn’t actually say any of that, I plastered a smile on. “He is pretty amazing.”
