Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “That email had a rather…violent graphic in it,” I whisper.

  “So, this message was sent from a pathetically easy-to-hack account. The original source was the Boston Public Library on Boylston. The fifth email was from the same account, but the idiot was sitting at a coffee shop on Newbury. Using his own computer.”

  Her excitement is infectious, and I grin as she shows me the backtrace. “Tell me you know how to spike him.” Even as the words leave my lips, Wren arches a brow in a “you can’t be serious?” expression. “Sorry,” I say with a laugh. “I just don’t meet many women who geek out over this shit like I do and speak my language.”

  “Oh, we’re going to be friends, I think. This guy was outside the Boston Public Library and the coffee shop.” The split screen switches to another traffic camera view, this time during daylight hours. With a shot of a guy who looks like Johnny Depp went on a year-long bender. I suck in a sharp breath and grab Dax’s knee.

  “That’s him. I think. It was dark and I was a little…terrified. But I think that’s the guy.”

  Wren’s expression sobers, and she leans closer to the screen. “I can find him, Evianna. It might take me a day or two, but I’ll have his driver’s license, date of birth, and mother’s maiden name before long.”

  “Good work, Wren,” Dax says. “Keep running searches for Kyle. Even if he’s not directly responsible for the attack on Evianna, he’s still got some sketchy behavior to answer for.”

  “Will do. Now…about your security logs?” She scribbles something in a little notebook next to her, then looks right at me. “You need help figuring out why your system didn’t tell you about the break-in?”

  “Can I get back to you on that? I wanted to start searching last night, but I wan’t really…able to focus. As soon as we’re done, I’m going to start debugging.” I don’t want anyone else poking into Alfie’s code…yet. Because even though Dax trusts this woman—and so do I—Alfie’s my baby. No one knows her better than I do.

  “Sure. I’ll be working all day, and you know how to get in touch with me now. Or just go through Dax. Either one.” She glances behind her and nods. “Boss, you have another minute? Ry’s here, and we were wondering if you’d heard anything from Ford.”

  I start to get up, but Dax grabs my hand and tugs me back down next to him. Tension rolls off of him in waves. On screen, the biggest man I’ve ever seen sinks down next to Wren. The difference between the two of them…he has to be almost seven feet tall, and half of his face looks a lot like Dax’s arms. Ry. This is the guy he told me about. Ryker.

  “I pulled Royce and Cam in for some electronic detective work,” Ryker says, his voice deep and raspy. “Searching for any mention of Americans up for sale on the dark web. Any update on your end?”

  “It’s only been twenty-four hours. I doubt Trevor and Ford have even left Turkey.” Dax’s fingers tighten on mine, and I look between the man on screen and the one next to me, wondering what the hell’s going on between them that Dax didn’t want me to leave.

  As if Ryker’s just noticed I’m there, he blinks hard, his blue—or are they green?—eyes focusing lower than Dax’s face. Our hands. “Evianna, right?”

  “Y-yes. Did you say…’for sale’?” Turning to Dax, I sputter, “Ford…he said…a family emergency. This…what the hell sort of emergency is this?”

  “Someone Ford cares about went missing in Turkmenistan,” Dax says quietly. “She was with Doctors Without Borders.”

  “Turkmenistan is a hotbed for human trafficking, Evianna.” On screen, Ryker leans forward, his elbows on his knees. Thick ropes of scar tissue wind up his forearms, along with ink so dark, I can’t make out all the designs. “If Joey or the other two women are listed for sale anywhere, we’ll know about it. I’d feel a lot better if you told me to go to Turkey, though.”

  “Not yet. If you show up and Ford’s not expecting you, it could derail whatever infil plans Trevor put in place. Hang tight for another twenty-four hours. After that, if I haven’t heard from him, I’ll give you the green light. Tell me what you need from me—how much—and I’ll make it happen.” Dax tightens his grip on my hand, and a vein throbs at his temple. “And…thanks, Ry. I…owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t owe me a damn thing. Ever.”

  A moment I don’t understand passes between the two men, and then Dax nods. “Thanks, brother. I’ll be in touch.”

  Wren hangs up the call, and Dax sinks back against the cushions. “Don’t ask, Evianna. Not…yet.”

  With a sigh, I give his hand one final squeeze. “Not yet. But soon.” He’s not going to get away with hiding much longer. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  15

  Dax

  “No. It’s not safe.” I fiddle with my earbud, turning it over and over in my fingers. “You’re staying here.”

  “Excuse me? I’m staying here? I don’t think so.” Evianna slams the lid on her laptop and stalks into my bedroom.

  I shouldn’t follow, but she’s like a drug. One I don’t think I can ever quit. Touching her, being close to her, talking to her—even when she’s mad at me—fills a hole inside me I didn’t know existed.

  “Evianna, we don’t know anything about the asshole who attacked you.” I sink down next to her on the bed, and skim the tips of my fingers along her cheek underneath the bandages. When she winces, I curl my my hand around the back of her neck. “You could have been killed.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who couldn’t breathe when he had his hands around my throat. I’m the one who was shoved into a bookcase so hard I have bruises in the shape of the spines on my back.” Her voice cracks, and she pulls away.

  “Fuck, darlin’. You should have told me.” I slide closer, frustration lending an edge to my tone. I can’t take care of her. Can’t see where she’s hurt, if she’s tired, happy… “Do you need a doctor?”

  “I’ll be fine. As long as I can figure out why Alfie didn’t tell me about the break-in. Why she wouldn’t turn on the lights or call the police. And the only way I can do that is if I go into the office.”

  “You have your laptop. Why can’t you do the work here?”

  The duvet rustles as she stands. “Because I need an Alfie unit. Preferably two of them. Cables. And a second machine. It would be even better if I had my Alfie unit. But I can remote into her and pull the logs—if I’m at my office. I can’t do that from here. Our software prevents it.”

  Dropping my glasses on the bed next to me, I rub my eyes. The migraine from last night hasn’t hit full force, but it’s still threatening. And I can’t take anything but Tylenol. Not if we’re leaving the apartment. Hell, not if we’re staying here either. My defenses are down. That’s the only explanation for losing control and kissing her this morning. For that new box of condoms in my nightstand drawer. The one I hid there while she was showering.

  “Dax? My office is safe. No one’s going to try to kill me in the middle of the day with twenty other people right outside my office door. I’m going whether you want me to or not. I’d rather you take me.”

  The quiet determination in her tone carries an undercurrent of something I can’t put my finger on. Warmth. Tenderness, maybe. And right now, I’m not sure there’s anything I wouldn’t do for her. “Fine. We’ll go. But you have to promise me one thing.” I reach out for her hand, and she curls her fingers around mine.

  “What?”

  “Once I drop you off, you don’t leave your office until I come back for you. No running down to the Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee. No quick trips to the drug store. Do not get onto the elevator until I tell you I’m in the lobby. Okay?”

  “I promise. Now can we go?”

  “No.” Pulling her back down next to me, I fumble for her other hand. “A few weeks ago, Wren asked for my help. Her brother OD’d on heroin, and she was convinced it was murder. I…didn’t believe her. Thankfully, Ryker did. He saved her life. More than once.”

 
“But she’s okay, right?” Concern and worry fight for control of Evianna’s voice, and she tightens her fingers on mine. “I mean…she and Ryker are together.”

  The ball of self-hatred I carry around with me every day crashes against my chest. Sure, Wren and I talk every couple of days. But…never about Russia.

  “Dax?”

  Breathing in Evianna’s scent, I pull myself back to the present. “Wren taught me the importance of promises. She risked her life because of a promise. Almost died because of a promise. And…fell in love with Ry…because of a promise. Because to her, promises are everything. When I ask you to promise me you won’t leave your office, I’m not using the word lightly.”

  Evianna squeezes my hands. “I promise. I won’t leave without you.”

  “Then I’ll call a car.”

  Evianna has her seat belt unbuckled before the car rolls to a complete stop. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m ready to go,” she says and gives my hand a squeeze.

  “Wait. I’m going to walk you to the elevator.” I slide out after her, ignoring her protests. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. Or even because I think there’s danger. But I need to know the layout of your building. How to get in. Where to go. In case I need to get to you.”

  I’m not lying. But I’m also not ready to leave her yet.

  “Okay,” she says with a hint of reluctance to her voice. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Don’t take my arm. How far are we from the north corner?”

  She hums for a moment. “Five car lengths or so. And we’re directly in front of the door. Maybe twenty feet away.”

  “What type of door is it? Sliding? Revolving?”

  “Double door with big brass handles.”

  Sweeping my cane in front of me, I head for the door, the scent of freesia on my right side. Once inside, I stop and reach for her arm. “Okay, tell me what you see. Use the hands of a clock as a reference.”

  “It’s a big lobby. Maybe thirty feet to the elevator at, um, eleven o’clock. The security guard’s desk is behind us at seven o’clock. Another door to the outside at three o’clock that opens out onto the side street.”

  “Now look around for places someone could hide.” Evianna’s never been stalked before. I need her to understand the potential dangers. A little shudder runs through her, and I squeeze her arm. “Go slow, darlin’. Really think about it.”

  Bright sunlight streams from the windows, and her shadow moves around me as she takes a few steps in each direction. “There’s an alcove in front of the bathrooms at two o’clock. The stairwell—right next to the elevator—has a small glass window in the door, so I think someone could probably see out without being seen unless it’s dark outside. If the security guard’s not here, behind his desk. There are two couches off to the left, at nine o’clock. Though, anyone hiding behind them would be visible from the street.”

  Holding out my arm, I wait for her to step into my embrace. Fuck. She feels like heaven against me. All soft curves and warmth. Sliding my hand up her back, I find the subtle swelling from her bruises, and she stiffens slightly until I whisper my apologies and shift my fingers lower. “Any time you walk into a new room, look for the exits first. Then, pick out the hiding spots. Know what’s around you at all times.”

  “You do this every day, don’t you? I mean…as much as you can?”

  Her words sting, but she’s right. Most of the time, I have no idea what a room looks like. Not really. Shapes. Shadows. A blur of color when the lighting’s just right. When I don’t respond, she curses under her breath. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dax. I didn’t mean—”

  “What did I tell you about apologizing?” This time, I press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I know my limitations, Evianna. And no. I don’t like them. But three surgeries didn’t fix me, so this is how I’m going to stay. And to answer your first question…yes. I was trained to do this. Infiltration, sedition, extraction. For almost a decade, this was my life. And even blind, I can’t—and won’t—turn off those instincts.”

  “You’re not broken. You don’t need to be…fixed.” Her breath ghosts across my cheek, and my God I want to press her against the nearest wall and ravish her. But she has to get to work, and I have to find Kyle.

  “Remember your promise, darlin’. And call me when you want to leave.” Before she can say another word, I turn and head for the door, knowing when I get to my office, there’s one very important call I have to make before I do anything else.

  The office is quiet. Ella is busy with her cases, Clive is with his mother, and Ronan and Vasquez are off duty. After I make myself a fresh cup of coffee, I pull out my phone. “VoiceAssist, call Ryker.”

  He picks up on the second ring. “Is it go time?”

  “Calm the fuck down,” I say, the urge to chuckle roughening my voice. The man has the patience of a gnat—unless he’s on mission. “Going a little stir crazy?”

  “No.” After a pause, a frustrated growl rumbles over the line. “Maybe. Hang on.” A door closes, and he lowers his voice. “I don’t want to leave Wren. Like…ever. But other than the five hours a day I train at the warehouse, I don’t have anything else to do.”

  “Five hours? No wonder fighting you felt like battling a tank.”

  Now it’s his turn to bark out what sounds like it might be a laugh. “And I lost, remember? I need to up my game. I just talked to you two hours ago. What’s up?”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  Ryker McCabe doesn’t exaggerate. Or lie. Unless the mission calls for it. If I asked him to jump on a plane right now, he’d do it. Or told him I needed Inara, Sampson, anyone he had out here to help, he wouldn’t think twice. But this…I don’t want to admit how broken I am.

  I take a long sip of coffee before I can force myself to spit the words out. “I need to know what Evianna looks like.”

  Silence. And then…laughter. A deep, rolling laugh I haven’t heard in more than six years. “I knew it!” Ry says after he gets himself under control.

  “If you’re going to haze me over this, I’ll hang up right now. I already feel like shit for even asking.”

  That sobers him up. “I suck at this, dude. And does it matter? She’s…beautiful. Dark brown hair, kind of long. Curvy. Probably five-foot-six? Pale skin. She looked tired. So did you. Pretty sure I saw something else too, though.”

  “What?”

  Ry snorts. “You’re falling for her.”

  I don’t respond. How can I? He’s right. Even though I don’t understand it. “I’ve known her three days.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Want to know when I started falling for Wren?”

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I blow out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “After she was attacked outside her apartment. When she came to, she started saying shit like flippin’ flapjacks and spitsnacks. I had her halfway out the door headed for the hospital when she told me that was how she cursed. That was the start of it. Right then.”

  “I haven’t dated anyone since Lucy. There isn’t one single reason Evianna should want to be with me.” Fuck. Saying the words makes it real, and suddenly, I’m back in the hospital, my therapist trying to teach me how to eat without being able to see the plate in front of me.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Ry—”

  “I mean it, Dax. You remember what I looked like the last time you saw me? What those fuckers did to my face? Hell, my entire body?”

  “I didn’t fare a whole lot better, you know,” I spit back.

  “Yeah. I do. I carried your ass out of there. But that’s not my point. The scars…I get someone being able to look past them. Took me a while to realize Wren didn’t care a bit what I looked like, but that was a hell of a lot easier to accept than the rest of it. This conversation we’re having? Before her, it never would have happened. Even with you. I’ve worked with Inara for more than three years. And before that shit with Coop, we’d never said more than a coup
le of sentences to one another outside of a mission. I didn’t know a damn thing about her other than her abilities. And Sampson…shit. The man found me half dead and buried in the snow and I couldn’t have told you if he had any family. Or how old he was. Or anything beyond his Krav Maga skills and what SEAL team he was on. That was the wall Wren saw right through. Hell, she did more than that. She knocked it down with a battering ram. The right person…you let them in because if you don’t, you can’t breathe. Can’t even think about existing without them. So, answer me one question. Is that how you feel about Evianna?”

  I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then tell her.” Ry lowers his voice even further. “Do it pretty damn quick, too. Because if things go according to plan, around New Year’s, I need you out in Seattle. And if you’re still pining over this woman, you’re going to be a pretty fucking grumpy best man.”

  16

  Evianna

  My hopes of making it from the elevator to my office without anyone seeing me are foiled when the doors slide open and Noah’s standing at the desk chatting up our receptionist.

  “Evianna? I didn’t think you were coming in—oh shit.” He takes me by the shoulders and looks me up and down, finally brushing my hair away from my cheek and sucking in a sharp breath. “Are you sure you should be here?”

  Extricating myself from his overly solicitous hold, I force a smile. “I’m fine, Noah. Just a home improvement project gone wrong.”

  “What happened?” Before I can take another step back, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and starts to lead me to my office.

  Jerk.

  “I was trying to fix a shelf in my kitchen. And I couldn’t see the can in the back corner. Next time I’ll get out the step stool.”

  Ulysses gives me the side-eye, and I shoot him a pleading look, but Noah has me in my office and shuts the door before my poor assistant can even get up. He doesn’t release me until I’m sitting in my chair and he’s taken my briefcase off my shoulder and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor.