Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “Not officer. Sergeant. Evianna?”

  “I’m right here, Dax. Do you know where we are?” He’s shaking now, and I draw the duvet up to his shoulders. “Tell me.”

  “Fairmont. Boston. Fuck. I…wanted to see. For a minute…I thought maybe…I wanted it. So much. To see you.” The words fade into a hoarse chocking sob, and then he tries to pull away, but I won’t let him go.

  Brushing his hair away from his face, I find his cheeks wet, and the idea of this strong, amazing man being scared enough to cry breaks my heart.

  He twists in my arms and reaches up to touch me, his thumb tracing the line of my cheek in the dim light from the bedside lamp. “I don’t know what you look like. And I’ve only ever wanted to see one other thing this badly since I lost my sight.”

  “What’s that?” I smile when he slides his palm to my jaw.

  “The stars the night Ry pulled me out of Hell. And now…I’d trade that for one look at your eyes. Or your smile.”

  “You see me, Dax. Maybe not the way you want, but you see me.” Leaning closer, I press my lips to his, then brush the tears from his cheeks. “Want to tell me about the dream?”

  “No.” When I bristle, he rushes to continue. “I will, darlin’. Just not…tonight. Not now. Not after…earlier. I don’t have anything left in me.”

  His heavy lids start to close, and I turn over, letting him spoon me with his arm around my waist and our fingers intertwined. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,” I whisper, and then let myself drift off in his arms.

  Someone’s talking. Why is someone talking? It’s way too early.

  “Oh-eight-hundred. Oh-eight-hundred. Oh-eight-hundred.”

  Dax groans behind me, “Voice Assist: Cancel alarm.”

  “Can’t we stay in bed for a while?” I ask.

  He buries his face in my hair. “As long as you want, darlin’. Until Wren calls and we’re still naked.”

  My cheeks catch fire, and I pull the duvet up to my neck. “But she’s in Seattle. It’s three hours earlier there.”

  “Wren lived in Boston until a couple of weeks ago. And is keeping Boston hours…for now.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat.

  “You miss her.”

  “Yeah. She kept the office…human. She and Ford…they did what I could never do. Be…friendly with everyone.” Dax sighs and sits up, leaning against the headboard. “I don’t want you going to your office today, Evianna. It’s too dangerous. After last night…”

  My shoulders hike up around my ears as I slide up next to him and force confidence I don’t feel into my voice. “I have to. We sign off on Alfie tomorrow. Maybe even this afternoon if the devs worked their asses off last night. If I’m not there…I have to be there.”

  Reaching for his phone, Dax taps the screen. “VoiceAssist: Call Clive on Speaker.”

  Clive doesn’t pick up until the fourth ring, and when he does, his voice is thick with sleep. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Please tell me you can work—shit. Sorry. How’s your mom?” Dax rests one elbow on his bent knee and cradles his forehead. I reach up and start to gently massage the back of his neck.

  “She’s stable. Surgery went great, and she’ll be home in two days. What do you need?”

  As if Clive just gave Dax the answer to the location of the Holy Grail, he visibly relaxes. “Just a couple of hours, buddy. Escorting a priority client from the Fairmont to her office, then back again. High likelihood of surveillance, at least leaving the office, and anyone following you is definitely going to be hostile.”

  I’m a “priority client”? After what happened last night? Admittedly, I don’t know what I’d call us right now, but…Dax is a hell of a lot more than simply my bodyguard.

  Clive speaks to someone in the background while I fume, then comes back on the line. “I can do it. My brother’s here, so he can take a shift with Mom for a while. What time?”

  Dax arches a brow in my direction. “Evianna?”

  My cheeks catch fire. We both have scratchy, raspy morning voice, and now Clive knows we’re both at the Fairmont. Together. At eight o’clock in the morning. And I’m still…just a client. “Hi…uh, Clive. I can be ready to go in an hour. Then leave the office around seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there. Going to stop at the hospital to check on Mom first, then I’ll swing by. See ya’, boss. Evianna.”

  The call clicks off, and I stammer, “I n-need a shower.”

  Snagging my wrist before I can ease out of bed, Dax holds on tight. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

  “Fine.” I rest my free hand on top of his for a brief moment, then pull away. I can’t figure out how to put my anger, frustration, and yes…hurt…into words. I don’t think he even realizes what he said—or how it made me feel, but I have to put some space between us to figure it out.

  As I close myself in the bathroom, I steal one last glance at him, still in bed, and it’s like someone clamped a vise down on my heart. Such a tough, strong man, muscular, scarred, and proud, and yet, the confusion written in the furrow of his brow makes him look like a lost puppy.

  Swiping at my traitorous eyes, I turn on the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away these conflicting feelings before I break down completely.

  Dax

  Scrubbing my hands over my cheeks, I try to figure out what the hell I did. She’s upset, and from her tone, it’s my fault. Unsurprising, since I don’t have the first fucking clue how to be…sweet. Or what I’m supposed to do when I piss someone off.

  Feeling my way along the wall, I head for the bathroom and knock. “Evianna? Can I come in?”

  Over the gentle patter of the shower, I think I hear her say yes. Or…at least I hope I do. “Can I…join you?”

  This isn’t me. Trying to be romantic. But, she makes me want to be a better man. A different man. A man who always knows what she needs.

  “It’s a deep tub. Stand back a minute.”

  The animation and tenderness is gone from her voice, and as a cloud of steam hits me, I think the shower door swings on its hinges. “I’m going to take your hand,” she says. Her warm, wet fingers curl around mine, and she guides my palm to the edge of the tub.

  “I’m good now. There an ‘oh shit’ bar on the wall?”

  The weak laugh I get in response does little to calm the churning in my gut, but as soon as I’m standing next to her, she shows me exactly where it is. “Shampoo and conditioner, in order from left to right, on the little shelf just below the bar.” Turning away from me, I think she raises her arms, and the tone of the water changes.

  “Can I…?” Nearly knocking the little bottle of shampoo off the shelf, I flick the cap open and pour some into my hands. I need to touch her. To do something for her to fix whatever it is I fucked up.

  “Dax—”

  “Please, darlin’. I don’t know why you’re angry with me, but I need to touch you.” I’m not proud of how unsure I sound, and with the shampoo dripping from my fingers, I probably look like a fucking idiot.

  With a sigh, she steps closer, and her wet hair tickles my palms. Following the strands, I start to massage her scalp, and she leans against me, some of the tension melting from her shoulders. “You called me a client.”

  The words are so soft, I almost don’t hear them over the water and my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. “What?”

  “On the phone. You called me a client. I thought—” she snorts, and drops her head, “—I don’t know what I thought. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  Oh, shit. “It’s not nothing.” With one arm around her waist and the other hand tangled in her hair, I press my hips to the generous globes of her ass. I need her. Want her. And my dick seems determined to make that very obvious. But I need her heart a hell of a lot more. More than I ever thought possible.

  Gently turning her, I shield her eyes as I guide her head under the spray. “What…do you want to be?” The tender kiss I brush to her lips makes her breath stall in her chest, and she
digs her fingers into my obliques. “Tell me, darlin’.”

  “More.”

  “You are more.” Stupid, Dax. And barely an answer. Feeling my way around the shower walls, I find an empty space and press her back to the tiles. “I’m not a good bet, Evianna. Not someone you should want. Can’t you see that?”

  “No. I don’t. What I see, Dax, is a man who’s willing to do anything to keep me safe. A man who’s funny—when he lets himself relax—who cares about his employees and friends, who knows just what to say when I’m feeling like my life’s spiraling out of control. And a man who thinks his value is somehow tied to his sight.”

  The water heats my back, but against my chest, Evianna’s nipples harden, and under my hands, gooseflesh rises along her arms. “You’re cold,” I say as I move her back under the spray, then take the soap and start massaging her shoulders. “I wish I could find the words…”

  “Try,” she whispers.

  Sliding my hands down, cupping her breasts, I skate my thumbs over her nipples, and the tiny moan tumbling from her lips has me hard for her in a single breath. With one hand continuing to lavish attention on her breast, I trail my other to her slick folds. The scent of her arousal mixes with the steam, and fuck. I wish I could take her right here.

  “Dax…” The single word holds so much need, my cock strains against her ass cheeks. Dipping my head, I score my teeth along her neck and bite down gently on the shell of her ear. Still working her nipple, I pinch her clit, and Evianna shatters. Her entire body convulses, and she throws her head back against my shoulder. “Oh God. You’re…you’re…”

  “Shhh. Just…breathe, darlin’. I’ve got you.” Against her ear, I whisper, “You’re more, Evianna. You’re…so much more.”

  If only I knew what…more was. Or how to figure it out.

  “Text from Clive,” my phone says, shattering the silence that’s filled the hotel room for the past half an hour.

  “VoiceAssist: Play message.”

  “I’m downstairs. Checked in with Ronan. No unusual activity. Safe to come out.”

  “Are you ready?” I tuck the Bluetooth into my ear and adjust my glasses. “I have all of Kyle’s notes and the answering machine.”

  “Yes,” she says quietly. “You’ll…um…come get me at the end of the day?”

  My eyes burn. How could I have ever put that doubt into her voice? Pulling her against me, I drop my cane and thread my fingers through her hair. She left it long today, and the silky strands let me guide her head just how I like it. When I crush my lips to hers, she parts for me, and fuck. If we had another half an hour, I’d lay her down on the bed and take my time with her. Show her just how much she means to me.

  Evianna melts in my arms as I come up for air. “Darlin’, I will always come for you. I promise.”

  “You…promise?” Her voice cracks, and she rests her forehead against mine.

  “Yes, baby. I promise.”

  “Here, boss,” Clive calls as we exit the elevator.

  Evianna tries to let go of my hand, but I hold tight. “Clive, this is...my…” She tenses, and shit. How can she possibly think I don’t care for her? I can’t say the words. I don’t have them. Don’t even know what they are. “Evianna. Nothing is more important than her safety. You understand?”

  Maybe Evianna’s right. Maybe I’m more than my blindness. Because I hear the hitch in her breath. Feel the little wobble in her knees. Her fingers tremble in mine.

  “Got it, boss. Car’s at the curb. You want me to stay outside her office all day?”

  No. I want to stay at her side all day. Somewhere far away from here. With a bed and room service and no one else around.

  “No,” Evianna answers before I can respond. “No one’s going to come for me at work. There are twenty other people there, including two security guards. I won’t leave.”

  “See her all the way to the elevator, Clive. Then drop me off at Second Sight and go visit your mom. Pick me up at seven, and then we’ll get Evianna from her office. We’re going back to the Fairmont tonight.” And maybe once we’re alone again, I can fix whatever I broke this morning.

  As Evianna opens the car door and guides my hand to the frame, I don’t even think about her touching me. I can sense her. Every movement. Every emotion. I don’t have to see her to know her. Even though it’s still the one thing I want more than anything else in the world.

  The ride passes with little conversation, but when Clive pulls up to Evianna’s office, I tell him to give us a minute.

  “I need to get to work, Dax. I’m late already. We’re so close to launching Alfie. I should have been in by seven,” she says, her tone distant, through she hasn’t let go of my hand the entire ride.

  Sliding closer, I cup her cheek, and I can feel a muscle in her jaw tick. I’ve fucked this up in the worst way, and I have to fix it. “Darlin’, I wish I could tell you what we are. What you mean to me. But, I don’t have all the pretty words you deserve to hear.”

  “So you won’t even try?”

  Pain crushes my heart when her voice breaks. “No. Yes. Fuck.” I lift our joined hands to my lips and ghost a kiss to her knuckles. “For six years, I thought everything good in me was dead. Tortured and killed and left to rot in Hell. But now…”

  Clive raps on the window. “This is a three-minute loading zone, boss,” he calls. “And there’s a traffic cop down the block.”

  Holding tight for one last second, I squeeze her fingers. “Give me a little time, darlin’. Please. Don’t give up on me.”

  Evianna opens the door and climbs out of the car. But before her heels click on the sidewalk, she leans back down so her breath whispers over my cheek. “Don’t give up on yourself either, Dax. I don’t need all the pretty words. Just honest ones.”

  24

  Dax

  As the car rolls to a stop, Clive clears his throat. “So, you and the client…?”

  “If you value your job, don’t say another word.”

  Except, I need him. And he knows it. After a chuckle, he turns, his voice no longer echoing off the front windshield. “I love my job. My boss is pretty cool. Most of the time. Today, he’s wound tighter than a two dollar watch.” The teasing tone leaves his voice. “And we both know that’s when mistakes happen.”

  “We’re getting nowhere.” With a sigh, I lean forward, doing my best to meet Clive’s gaze. His black sunglasses—against ghostly white skin—help me focus my stare. “I can’t protect her. No one’s heard from Ford and Trevor, Vasquez and Ronan are working nights, and Evianna’s totally alone during the day.”

  “I can watch out for her. Mom’s at the point in her recovery where she’s ordering the nurses around and demanding we tune the television to her favorite soap operas. Give me three hours and I’ll park myself outside her building.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking.” Clive gets out of the car, comes around, and opens my door. “I’ll check in when I get back to her office.”

  I hold out my hand, and when Clive’s cool fingers grasp mine, I give him a nod. “I owe you.”

  “Nah. Consider it my apology for Trev’s packing tape adventure.” He claps me on the back, and I head for the door.

  “VoiceAssist: Call Wren.” Leaning back in my chair, I take a long sip of coffee. I want to text Evianna, but after my repeated fuck-ups this morning, I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing now, we’ll end up needing those separate rooms at the Fairmont.

  “Hey, boss,” she says. Exhaustion lends a raspiness to her tone, and she yawns over the call. “I spent the entire night on a ghost hunt. Louie Stein died seven years ago in a charter plane accident off the coast of Bimini. Honest-to-galoshes, Dax. I didn’t even know Bimini was a real place. I spit out my tea.”

  The corners of my lips tug up in a half smile. “One of these days, you and Ry should go. It’s…beautiful.” Scattered memories fade, a little more every day. The beaches, the blue-green water. How long until
I can’t remember what anything looks like?

  “Dax? Hey. You all right?”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I refocus. “Fine. Why?”

  “Because I asked you if you found anything at Kyle’s place.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” Taking another hit of coffee, I summarize what happened the night before. “So I have an old answering machine sitting on my desk right now, and no fucking clue what to do with it.”

  “Like Sneakers?” Wren squeaks. “Holy snack cakes. You and Evianna had better come out here when this whole thing blows over. I want to meet her.”

  “Uh…yeah. I…sure.” What the hell did I just agree to?

  Wren seems surprised, because there’s the distinct sound of her choking on whatever she’s drinking, followed by coughing and wheezing and a stammered apology.

  The sound of typing carries over the line. “Fudgesicles,” she says. For Wren, that’s serious swearing. “Dax? Kyle was bailed out of jail last night. What time did you say you and Evianna were at his place?”

  “Shit, Wren. We could have run right into him. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Um, excuse me if I was a little busy tracking down the guy who tried to kill Evianna. What time were you there?” Her words slow with her anger, turning deliberate and quiet.

  With a sigh, I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m…not good company right now. Eight-thirty. Give or take.”

  “You and Ry, both,” she mutters. “Hang on.” More keystrokes, and shit. I wish I could see what’s on her screen right now.

  “Wren, you have to talk to me.”

  “In a minute.”

  Pushing to my feet, I start to pace. Five steps to the door, three steps to the far edge of the window, six steps to the other end of the office, another three steps. I make three circuits before Wren stops typing and whispering to herself.

  “At seven-twenty-three, a traffic camera two blocks from Kyle’s apartment caught a single image of Kyle with another man. I can’t tell if it’s Louie, but I’m running pattern recognition now. Whoever he is, he’s holding onto Kyle’s arm, and the kid looks scared out of his mind.”