His gut clenched. Elliot turned toward her. “Doc—”
“The jokes. The sarcasm. I know it’s a way to protect yourself, but you’ve gotten so good at protecting yourself, you’re starting to push the people who care about you away.” Ocean-blue eyes locked on him, full of fear, full of loss, and every cell in his body reacted. Because she was right. He didn’t let people get close. She’d been the only exception, and even then he hadn’t revealed a whole lot over the last year. It’d been the only way to survive. “Don’t worry, Elliot. I got your message loud and clear.” Waylynn turned from him, heading toward the stairs as she called over her shoulder. “I’ll hire another investigator.”
Like hell she would.
“No, you won’t.” Elliot shot his hand out, wrapping his fingers around her arm. He turned her into him and palmed the nape of her neck. Pure, unfiltered body heat worked through her clothing and down into his bones. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Nobody else can protect you like I can.”
“What are you doing?” Waylynn set her hands against his chest but didn’t fight to escape the circle of his arm. Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat. Wild, erratic. A sharp gasp left her mouth as he held her. Her exhales brushed across his face and neck. Mere centimeters separated her mouth from his. He should let her go. Let her hire another investigator. But he couldn’t. Her geranium scent filled the space between them, chasing the bleach burn from his lungs, and he was lost. In her.
“You haven’t lost me, Doc.” Because a life without her in it wasn’t a life at all. She was the only one keeping him in Anchorage aside from Sullivan’s threat of hunting him down if he skipped out on his promise. The only one who’d made it possible to think about a future that didn’t include four walls and a hole in the floor. “You never will, understand?”
“I don’t want you working this case if it means we can’t be friends after it’s over.” She licked her lips, homing his attention to her perfectly soft mouth. “You’re... You’re the only one I have left.”
He released his hold on her and enfolded her in the circle of his arms, her ear pressed to his heart. At five foot eight, she fit perfectly against him. Setting his cheek against the crown of her head, Elliot breathed her in deep. And started humming.
“Are you humming ‘She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy’?” Waylynn pushed away and pressed a single hand into his chest. She tried to hide a smile but couldn’t fight it for long as she stepped back. “That’s cheating. You know I love that song.”
“You have horrible taste in music.” Elliot took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, and led her into a spin beneath his arm. Calluses caught on her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or didn’t care. Damn that smile. Damn what it could do to him, how far he was willing to go to see it one more time.
He kept up the rhythm and swung her into him. One hand on her waist, the other lifting her hand out to the side. In the midnight sun, he could make out the small bit of hazel circling her pupils. A light Alaskan breeze picked her hair off her shoulders, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to fist it in his hands.
“You never told me you grew up in a commune.” Her voice softened.
“My parents were—are—very religious.” As far as he knew, they were still alive, helping take care of the communal farm and property. Elliot swung her a full ninety degrees as a distraction. This stuff... He hadn’t talked about it—hadn’t thought about it—in over twenty years. “Up until I turned fourteen, farming, church and chores were all I knew.”
“Was it just you and your parents?” She tilted her head to block the midnight sun from his face, the laugh lines around her eyes shallower than a few minutes ago.
“I have three sisters. Two older, one younger.” Wow. How old would they be now? He didn’t even know if they were still part of the community they’d been raised in. “Which means I learned how to braid hair, sew a hem and do my own laundry.”
“Do you keep in contact with them?” Waylynn slid her thumb up the sensitive skin on the back of his hand.
“I haven’t spoken to them since I left.” His throat dried. The night he’d told his parents he was leaving was the last time he’d seen them. “When I was six, we had a guy come stay with us who had a brand-new—at least, new back then—Nikon F401S camera. It was the first piece of technology I’d ever seen.” He could still remember that moment clearly. “I was so enamored with this thing, kept bugging the owner to let me see it behind my parents’ backs, that he actually gave it to me when he left.” Her favorite song faded to the back of his mind, but Elliot only pulled her closer as the past threatened to override the moment. “I took it apart piece by piece and put it back together to see how it worked. Worked great. I’d take pictures of the farm when I was supposed to be doing my chores, hide it under my bed at night until the thing finally died. I didn’t have any way to charge it. That was when I knew there was more out there than the fences we’d built around the property.” He shook himself back into the present. “So when I was fourteen, I left. And I haven’t looked back.”
“You’ve been on your own since you were fourteen?” Waylynn stilled. Soft, strong, beautiful, intelligent. He was a damn fool for getting this close. No matter how often he’d tried to deny it, this woman had a pull to her, a gravitational orbit he couldn’t get away from. Didn’t want to get away from. “How did you survive?”
Elliot cocked his head to one side. “Well, running cons helped. Until the Iraqi government wasn’t afraid to call the local police in for me ripping them off for assassination contracts I never intended to follow through on.”
A lithe laugh bubbled from between her lips and, for a moment, he forgot to breathe. “Now here you are. Learned your lesson, I hope?”
“For now.” A smile escaped his control. It was impossible not to smile when she looked at him like that. Like she was happy. And considering the toll the past twenty-four hours had taken on her, he’d stretch this moment out as long as he could. Elliot dropped his hold on her waist and took a step away. To prove he could. His phone vibrated with an incoming message. “Vincent handed over the hard drive to our tech. And it looks like Anchorage PD released your apartment as a crime scene a couple hours ago. Maybe we can find you something else to wear besides those sweats and my MIT shirt.”
Her blue gaze narrowed in on her assistant’s apartment door, but she didn’t drop his hand. “We’re just going to leave all of her stuff? Alexis has some family on the East Coast, but I don’t know anything about them.”
“Once the police are finished with whatever they’re doing in there, everything will be taken care of.” Elliot ran the pad of his thumb beneath her signature mole beside her nose. The dark circles under her eyes hadn’t budged. When was the last time she’d really slept? Over twenty-four hours ago? “Blackhawk retains one of the best lawyers in the country. We can have her get involved to make sure it all goes where it’s supposed to if that’s what you want.”
“Okay.” Waylynn nodded but didn’t move when he started down the cement corridor. “We haven’t solved anything.”
He didn’t have to ask what she’d meant. No, they hadn’t. He’d deflected the hard questions by humming her favorite song and pulling her into him. But one thing had become clear: keeping her at a distance wouldn’t work. Not as long as he was investigating her case. But he didn’t trust anyone else to protect her like he could.
Elliot curled his free hand into a fist. Catch-22. Because the longer he stayed with her, the weaker his resolve.
She deserved nothing less than a best friend who’d never stand her up, reassure her when she felt insecure, comfort her after a hard day at the lab. Inspire her. Help her live without and forget regrets. She deserved a man who would give in to her most intimate desires and enable her to become the most confident, sexy, seductive woman alive. Even more so than she already was.
But he wasn’t th
at guy. He couldn’t be. Elliot locked his attention on the ocean-blue depths of her fear-charged gaze and his gut twisted. “I’ll take a bullet for you if it comes to that, Doc. But that’s all I have to offer.”
* * *
THAT’S ALL I have to offer.
The words burrowed into her bones, dug in. Painful. Crushing. But she couldn’t think about that right now, refused to acknowledge the hurt building behind her sternum. She had more important things to worry about. The fact someone had tried to frame her for murder, yet again. The fact she’d have to build her research from the smallest strand of DNA up. Again.
Waylynn stayed quiet on the drive to her apartment, but the fire traveling through her veins refused to relent. The soft, white iridescent glimmer of light from Genism Corporation across town held her attention as Elliot drove them through the city. Why? Why would someone do this to her? She’d moved on with her life, left the past behind. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw protested. It was the only way to escape when the memories found a hole in her defenses. She glanced at Elliot in the driver’s seat, his knuckles stark against the black leather of the steering wheel as they pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex.
She exited the SUV without a word, didn’t bother to check behind her to see if he’d followed. She didn’t care. They were next-door neighbors as long as they were working together. He’d made that more than clear. But he was still her bodyguard. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Elliot’s hand branded her upper arm as he hauled her into him, his touch burning through the material of her borrowed sweatshirt. Would she ever stop reacting to him like this? “You’re not going in there alone, Doc. We don’t know how deep this guy’s connections run.”
Doc. The word grated in her ears now. Where she’d normally taken comfort with the use of his nickname for her, she pulled out of his grasp. “Are you genuinely concerned for my safety because we’re next-door neighbors or because I’m paying you?”
He interlaced his hands behind his head as a rough exhale brushed against her neck. Frustration deepened the divide between his dark eyebrows. “You are—”
“Beautiful,” she said. “Intelligent, immensely talented?”
Faster than she thought possible, Elliot crushed his mouth to hers. Gripping her waist, he pulled her to her tiptoes and brought her closer. His arms caged her against him. The overload of desire rocketed her heart rate into her throat. He was all around her, the only thing keeping her upright when her legs threatened to slip right out from under her. She fisted his hoodie in her hands as the surprise wore off. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue and every nerve ending in her body fired in response as she gave him tacit permission to keep going with a slight nod of her head.
The air she breathed thickened, the investigation, Alexis’s death, her torched career, were all packed into a tiny box in the back of her head as he kissed her. Kissed her as though he intended to devour her. His hands on her hips disrupted reality, helped her forget the nightmares. She never wanted it to end.
Elliot set her down, pulling away too fast. Too soon. “I was going to say infuriating.”
Her fingers ached as she uncurled them from his hoodie. Considerable muscle and strength lay beneath the thick layer, a warm vitality that urged her to press into him. Waylynn swiped the back of her hand across her lips, then stepped out of the circle of his arms. She’d had lovers. She’d gotten serious with a boyfriend in college, but she’d ended it the day she’d found out about her genetic heritage. But that kiss... Oh, wow. A kiss like that was worth the risk. A wave of dizziness blurred her vision and she blinked to clear her head. Her lungs spasmed for oxygen. She’d forgotten to breathe. “That was...”
“Extraordinary,” he said. “Phenomenal, the best you’ve ever had.”
“I was going to say confusing.” She took a deep breath as reality closed in. “I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss your next-door neighbor like that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He shook his head, avoiding looking right at her as he backed off. He ran a hand through his hair, the butt of his gun visible as his hoodie shifted. “Small miscommunication between my brain and my mouth. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m going to go pack a bag.” She headed for the stairs, hand on the chilled steel railing. “I’d prefer if you didn’t follow me.”
Waylynn exhaled his clean, masculine scent from her system, not caring if she’d offended him. She needed space, a few minutes to clear her head. Maybe that was the problem. She couldn’t think when he touched her, not when he helped her forget there was a monster out there intent on destroying everything she cared about. She swallowed back the urge to rub at her sternum as the hurt set in. Climbing the stairs to the second level of the apartment complex, she deflated. The worst part about this whole thing? She couldn’t even blame her lack of resistance on lust alone. Elliot had burrowed beneath her skin, become part of her, long before tonight. She just hadn’t wanted to see the truth: a relationship between them couldn’t work. Not when her genetic makeup fated her to turn on him at the drop of a hat.
Stretching her hand toward the sconce bolted beside her door, she unscrewed the ornate bottom loose and caught the key hidden inside. She slipped the key into the lock, but the door swung open on its own. The rush of a combination of cleaning supplies and sweat lingered on the air. Her stomach churned. Pulling the key from the door, she remembered the crash of wood against drywall as Elliot had forced his way inside to get to her. Her apartment had been a safe haven, somewhere to wash off the pressure of the lab and pamper herself every night after she left him on the porch with a half-finished beer. But now... Waylynn closed the door behind her, back pressed against damaged wood. Too many other people had been here. Alexis. Her killer. Elliot. The police. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Didn’t smell like it either.
Pack a bag. Find the person responsible for ruining her life. She wouldn’t break now. She was a survivor. “You’ve been through worse.”
Waylynn pocketed the key in her hand and headed straight through the living room to the hallway. She’d made it only a few steps when pain seared through her skull, unbalancing her, and she collapsed against the wall. Hand on her forehead, eyes closed tight, she couldn’t stop the sudden rush of memory pounding at the back of her head. Her pulse sped up, lungs working overtime.
Tall male. Light brown hair, maybe blond in the dim lighting. A scar on the back of his right hand as he pressed the gun to her temple. He’d forced her to write the confession. The gunshots echoed in her ears as though there was someone shooting right beside her. Three suppressed pulls of the trigger. Alexis’s eyes widened in surprise, then emptied of life right in front of her. He’d killed Alexis. He’d framed Waylynn for the murder. You’re not going to remember any of this.
“Waylynn.” Rough hands shook her back into the present.
She gasped, kicking as her fight-or-flight instinct engaged. Waylynn wedged her heels into the slightly damp carpet to escape but didn’t get far before she recognized that voice. His voice.
“Doc, it’s me. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.” He stood, palms raised in surrender, not daring to approach. Elliot crouched in front of her and rubbed one hand into his stomach. “Damn, you’ve got some powerful legs.”
“Elliot.” She automatically studied the back of his right hand as he draped it over one knee. No scar. Blood drained from her face. Oh, no. She’d attacked him. The realization burned going down and sat like a rock at the base of her spine. The memory... She licked her dry lips, tried to swallow the tightness in her throat, and blinked to clear her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t need to apologize to me for protecting yourself, Doc.” His voice lowered an octave as he helped her to her feet. “Ever. Understand?”
She nodded but couldn’t seem to let him go. “I remembered him.”
Taking one hand in his, he rested her palm against his chest. The steady thump of his heart in her palm centered her, kept her from getting lost in the nightmares. The distinct line between his brows deeper, his eyes narrowing in on her. “Who?”
“The man who forced me to write that confession.” She ran her free hand over her forehead, trying to release the pressure building in her head. Didn’t help. She had a feeling nothing would help until whoever was doing this was caught. Her next words caught in her throat, no matter how many times she tried forcing them. “He killed her in front of me. He killed Alexis.”
“You remember what he looks like?” he asked. “Recognize him?”
She shook her head, still fighting to slow her racing heart. “Not really. I think he was tall with blond hair. I feel like I should know him, though.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the pain only intensified. “He told me I’d never remember any of it, but I remember, Elliot. I saw the scar on the back of his hand. The skin looked burned.”
“If his hand matches the rest of him, we’ll have our suspect by the end of the day.” His voice slid through her, all that sarcasm and confidence chasing back the fear clawing its way up her throat. “If it’s a recent injury, within the last five years, my lab can help narrow the suspect pool by requesting medical records noted with that kind of injury.”
She’d witnessed Alexis’s murder, but she couldn’t remember the most important parts of it. Taking a solid breath, she reveled in the feel of strength beneath Elliot’s shirt, but pulled her hand away. He’d kissed her just outside this apartment, helped her forget. But it’d been a mistake. On both their parts. He wasn’t interested in taking their friendship a step further, but in reality, there was no step further. Not for her. “I need to get my stuff. I’ll meet you outside.”
Rules in Defiance Page 6
