Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  In the elevator, I call Dax. “They know where my mom is,” I blurt out before he can even say hello. “I can’t…I have to—”

  “Evianna, stop and listen to me. You are not to leave your office alone. Do you understand?”

  “Please,” I beg as the elevator doors open and I stumble into the lobby. “I can’t just do nothing.”

  “Not suggesting that. I can be there in under ten minutes. Where are you right now?” Despite the strain in his voice, just talking to him helps calm me, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

  “Lobby.”

  “Wait there. Call the care facility and tell them you’re coming. They’re not to let anyone in to see your mother until you get there, and give them a password. I’m walking out of my office right now, and I’ll text Clive, then call Wren and figure out what we can do to keep your mother safe. Do you understand?”

  Swiping at the tear racing down my cheek, I stammer, “Y-yes. Hurry.”

  “I will, darlin’.”

  Five minutes later, I hang up with Watertown Longterm Care and Comfort, and find an email from Mom.

  He was tall with black hair. Looked kind of like that actor…Johnny Depp? Smelled like a chimney. You should tell him to quit smoking.

  Oh, shit.

  The tapping of Dax’s cane on the marble floors is the only thing keeping me sane, and I rush over to him, skidding to a halt a half second before I run right into him. But he senses me, or hears me, or something, because he wraps his arms around me. “Clive’s three minutes away, and Wren’s in my ear working on a solution for your mom right now.”

  “It’s…Louie,” I manage. “Mom described him.”

  Dax stiffens. “Wren? Did you catch that?” I can’t hear her response, but she must have said yes, because he quickly continues, “I’ll have Clive make the call as soon as he gets here. Keep working your magic. Call me back when you have something.”

  A horn sounds from the street. “Clive,” I say, and Dax has me out the door and into the car in under a minute. It’ll be okay. It has to be. Otherwise, what should be the best day of my life could turn into the worst. I’m coming, Mom.

  I just hope we’re fast enough.

  Twenty minutes later, Clive slams on the brakes, the SUV screeches to a halt outside Watertown Longterm Care and Comfort, and I’m out of the car before Dax can even unfold his cane. “Evianna, wait,” he snaps as he struggles to navigate the uneven curb.

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” I whisper as I take his arm and lead him inside.

  He angles his head so his lips brush my ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’. I just need you to stay close.”

  Clive follows, his hand on his hip under his jacket. I shudder as I realize he probably has a gun.

  “Can I help you?” a sweet, older woman asks as we approach the front desk.

  “Y-yes. I’m Evianna Archer, and I called half an hour ago. I spoke with a Beatrice Nix. Is she here?”

  “Of course. I’ll get her right away.”

  As the woman shuffles off, Dax links our fingers and holds tight. “Once she authenticates you,” he says, “let me do the talking.”

  “Ms. Archer? I’m Beatrice.” Her gaze flicks to Dax and then Clive, and she furrows her brows. “Will you come with me, please? We can talk in my office.”

  I nod, but when Dax steps forward with me, Beatrice holds up her hand. “Only family members are allowed in the back, gentlemen. I’m sorry.”

  A low growl rumbles in Dax’s throat, and I drop his hand, grab Beatrice’s arm, and whisper, “Nutella. Please. They’re with me…”

  The password settles her, and she angles her head towards the hall. “Fine. This way.”

  Dax turns to Clive. “Stay here. No one comes in or out unless you vet them. Wren sent you the picture?”

  “Affirmative.” He takes position by the front door, his hand resting on something black and decidedly gun-like at his hip.

  Beatrice’s office is small, decorated with pictures of babies, teenagers, and adults. All who bear a striking resemblance to her. “Ms. Archer, this is a safe facility. Can you tell me why you think your mother is in danger?”

  Dax shuts the door behind us. “Ms. Nix, I’m Dax Holloway with Second Sight Security Services.” Digging into his pocket, he withdraws a small leather wallet and passes it to the woman.

  “A private investigator? But…you’re blind.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, Ms. Nix. I’m also aware you’re sixty-two-years-old, have three children, four grandchildren, and a dog named Chester. Now can we table the discussion of my blindness and talk about the safety of Ms. Archer’s mother?”

  Anger and frustration radiate off Dax’s stiff frame, and if he squeezes my hand any harder, I’m worried he’ll break one of my fingers. But his little speech does the trick, as Beatrice takes a step back and stares down at her desk.

  “My apologies, Mr. Holloway. But Mrs. Archer isn’t in any danger.”

  “She had a visitor this morning,” I say. “He brought her flowers, claimed to be from my company. We didn’t send anyone.”

  Beatrice sits, taps a few keys on her computer, and nods. “Yes. the gentleman had identification. Benjamin Denik. He stayed for ten minutes, and your mother was quite happy with the flowers.”

  “There’s no one working for Beacon Hill Technologies named Benjamin Denik,” I protest. “He lied to you.”

  Dax gives my hand a gentle tug, and I stop, turning towards him. “We have to—”

  “Ms. Nix, the man you admitted this morning is a professional hitman. He tried to kill Evianna several nights ago. She’s been under Second Sight’s protection ever since. Mrs. Archer isn’t safe here, and unless she’s moved, immediately, neither are any of your other patients or your staff.”

  Dax’s phone buzzes, and he taps his Bluetooth. “Excuse me for a moment,” he says. “Wren? Tell me you have a solution.”

  He listens for a minute while Beatrice stares, her cheeks at least three shades paler than they were when we walked in here. When he hangs up the call, he nods. “Two unmarked, specially outfitted transport vans will be here in twenty minutes. They will pull up to your loading dock, side-by-side. We need to have Mrs. Archer ready to go by the time they show up. There will be no paperwork, no record of this transfer. Evianna will continue to pay your bill for the next ten days, or until we can guarantee Mrs. Archer’s safety and return her to your care. Do you understand?”

  Holy shit. I think I just met Sergeant Holloway, Green Beret.

  Beatrice nods, then, when I arch a brow at her, adds, “Of course, Mr. Holloway.”

  “How did you do all of that so quickly?” I ask as I lead Dax towards my mother’s room.

  “A lot of people owe me favors.” He offers me a half-smile. “And you can accomplish just about anything with enough money.”

  “Oh God. Tell me what I need to send you, I’ll—”

  “Nothing, darlin’. It’s done.”

  I don’t know whether to yell at him or hug him. “You’re not paying for all of this. No.”

  Dax stops, curls his arm around my back, and pushes me against the wall. “You’re mine, Evianna. And I protect what’s mine. No matter the cost.”

  His words send a little thrill through me, but I still won’t let him pay for this whole damn thing. “We’ll talk about this…later,” I say, then kiss him, the feel of his lips and the taste of him—coffee and a hint of toothpaste—settling me and warming me down to my core. “Mom’s room is right here.”

  I knock twice, and then step through the door. “Hi, Mom.”

  She smiles, her eyes lighting up, though one side of her mouth ends up higher than the other. “What are you doing here?”

  The mechanical voice doesn’t sound anything like her, but I can still hear her. It’s in the way her eyes move, her brows, her lips.

  “Mom,” I approach the bed, “there’s something we have to talk about. And it’s scary and complicated, but you have t
o trust me.”

  “Are you in trouble? Who is that?”

  Dax steps forward, but he doesn’t take my hand. “Mrs. Archer, my name is Dax Holloway. I’m a private investigator. Please don’t say anything else until I give you the okay.” He pulls a small black plastic box from his pocket, flips the switch, and waits until the thing beeps twice. “All right. If there are any bugs in this room, they’re jammed now.”

  “Bugs?” The word escapes on a squeak. “You really think—?”

  “No clue, darlin’. But he was in this room. If I were trying to get a bead on you, I’d be listening.”

  “Evianna, what is going on? Tell me.”

  If Mom were still mobile, she’d probably be shaking me right now. With a sigh, I slide a hip onto the edge of her bed. “Dax? Can you…um…come closer?”

  His cane slides across the linoleum until it hits the bed, and I take his hand. “Mom, this is the man I told you about. Dax is…protecting me.” Glancing up at him, I see the conflict in his eyes behind his glasses. The fear. “And we’re involved. Dating.”

  “You’re in danger. Why?”

  As quickly as I can, I give her the highlights, leaving out the part where the man who brought her a large spray of red, white, and yellow daisies threatened to kill me. “Dax arranged to have you moved to another facility for a few days. Just until his people can find the guy.”

  Mom fixes Dax with a hard stare. “Young man, give me one reason why I should trust you.”

  Dax wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m Special Forces, ma’am. Retired. Injured in the line of duty, awarded the Medal of Honor, a Purple Heart, and a Silver Star. The United States Special Forces fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. We don’t lie, cheat, or steal, and we absolutely never leave one of our own behind. Evianna is…mine. I would die before I let anyone hurt her.”

  I don’t breathe. I’m not sure I can. To hear my soldier, the man I’m falling for, say he’d die for me…the absolute certainty in his voice, the strength of his arm around me… I wish I could tell him how I feel. But now isn’t the time.

  Mom moves the little joystick on under her hand, all while the silence in the room turns into a physical weight.

  “What are you waiting for, then? Let’s go.”

  30

  Dax

  Evianna’s voice carries an undertone of fear as she tells her mother about signing off on Alfie’s code this morning and the upcoming party. I stay close but out of the way as the nurse and three EMTs Wren hired unhook Olivia Archer from the tubes, wires, and sensors that help her stay alive and load her into an unmarked ambulance.

  We climb into the back with her, and once we’re belted in, I reach for Evianna’s hand, offering her what little reassurance I can. “The second ambulance is a decoy, darlin’. It’ll go off first, lights and sirens, then we’ll follow silently. After ten minutes, our lights will come on. And we’ll weave through the city for at least half an hour to make sure we’re not being followed.”

  “You have done this before,” Olivia says.

  “For almost ten years, this was my job, ma’am.”

  Evianna’s knee bounces against mine until her mother’s computerized voice breaks the silence.

  “You love my daughter. Call me Olivia.”

  “M-Mom!”

  Pressing my lips to Evianna’s temple, I whisper in her ear, “It’s all right, darlin’.” Turning my focus to her mother, I clear my throat. “Olivia, are you comfortable enough?”

  “You don’t worry about me. You keep my daughter safe.”

  By the time we return to the Fairmont, it’s after four, and we’re both on edge. Evianna’s been on and off her phone for the past two hours, keeping in touch with Beacon Hill, approving the final version of Alfie’s code, and making excuses—all related to a massive water leak in her basement.

  Ella dropped off a garment bag and small duffel with the concierge a few hours ago, and when we’re back in our room, Evianna lays the bags on the bed. “What is all of this—?”

  “Precautions.” Patting the bed, I find a clear spot, sit, and pull the duffel bag closer. Everything’s coded for me, little Braille dots embossed on the tag for each canvas pouch. “Comms,” I say as I open a black plastic case the size of my palm.

  “They’re so small.”

  “Wear your hair down tonight. It should cover the earbud. We’ll be on with Wren the whole time. She’ll monitor things from the camera in my glasses, and will be able to walk you through anything you need to get her spyware installed.”

  “And the rest of this stuff?”

  I don’t want her to see the rest of my kit, but I also can’t lie to her. I won’t. “I don’t carry a gun, Evianna. With enough light and the right contrast, I might be able to hit someone center mass, but it’s too dangerous. That doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself. Let’s see what Ella brought us to wear.”

  As Evianna unzips the garment bag, I pull out my modified tactical vest. Running my fingers over the thin canvas, memories assault me. Ryker barking orders. Ripper shouting for air support, Gose tying a tourniquet around Hab’s leg. But then the images shift. The first time I put on that Green Beret and patch. The day I walked into the barracks to find my assignment: ODA 5150. Ry’s easy smile and strong handshake when he welcomed me to the team.

  “Dax? You’re…somewhere else, aren’t you?” Her soft voice pulls me from the past, and I reach out, finding her cool fingers and giving them a squeeze.

  “Right here with you, darlin’. Is there a dress shirt in there for me?” I ask.

  “Yes. A black one.”

  “Makes the vest less visible.” With a light brush of my lips to her knuckles, I take the shirt from her, strip off my long-sleeved Henley, and shrug into the pressed shirt. The vest is next, and as I secure the buttons, I stand up a little straighter. I’m still capable. Still a soldier. But also, still…blind.

  “Wow.” Evianna slides a hand down my arm, and I realize I can sense her coming. Feel her warmth, pick up on the subtle scent of freesia from her perfume. “You clean up nicely.”

  I wish I could return the compliment. “What are you wearing?”

  “Black pants, black heels, and a gold tank. And Ella brought me a black beaded purse.” She fiddles with something on the bed for a moment, then gasps. “With two USB drives.”

  “Wren’s program. One for each of us…as backup.” Holding out my hand, I accept the little plastic and metal data drive, and tuck it into an inner zippered pocket of the vest.

  I’d give anything to avoid the next few minutes, to be able to keep the potential for danger from this woman I think I love, but she’s right. We’re a team, and she has to know what we could be up against.

  “Sit down, darlin’. I need to explain a few things.”

  As she moves, the light hits her gold tank, and I can see a hint of the shimmer. For the thousandth time, the longing ache blooms in my chest. To be able to see her. Just once. To have her image in my head, know what she looks like when we kiss. When I have her naked against me.

  Reaching into the duffel bag, I pull out a zippered, leather folio, set it on the nightstand, and open it. “You need to know what I’m carrying, and where, so if anything happens, you’re not defenseless. Understand?”

  “Okay. Do you really think—?”

  “I didn’t think you were in danger at your house the other night. Or that they’d come after your mother—though I should have anticipated that one.” With a small shake of my head, I feel for the folding blade. “See the metal crescent here on the handle? Press it to extend the blade. It’ll snap, so be careful. Press it again to collapse the knife. Right side pocket.”

  “Got it,” she whispers as I tuck the knife away.

  “Spare comm units in the left side pocket.” Holding up the tiny, plastic case, I wait for her confirmation, then stow that as well.

  “This is important, darlin’.” I take off my belt, roll it up and tuck it back in the duff
el, and then grab the one from the folio’s inner pocket. Twisting the buckle, I wait for her reaction.

  “Oh, my God. Who comes up with this stuff?” she asks as she reaches out to touch the tiny set of lock picks.

  “Trevor, mostly. Ten years with the CIA. The man’s…scary.” After I’ve secured my belt, I add a metal window punch, a credit card tool with a tiny screwdriver, GPS chip, and glass cutter, and a second Bluetooth earbud to the vest.

  All the while, Evianna fidgets with the duvet, and when I’m satisfied everything’s in its place, I sink down next to her and take her hands. “Evianna, when we get to the party, you have to be my eyes. See what I can’t. Watch everyone. If you see anything suspicious, tell me immediately. Someone at this party tonight wants you dead. But they also want something from you first. So don’t go anywhere without me. Not even the bathroom. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracks, and she rests her head on my shoulder. The soft silk of her hair brushes my cheek. “I’m…this was supposed to be the day of my dreams,” she whispers. “The day to celebrate everything I’ve worked so hard for the past few years. And now…”

  “I know, darlin’. But I’m with you. And we’re going to find out who’s after you and stop them. I promise.”

  31

  Dax

  Clive opens the back door of the Town Car at the curb. “I’ll park the car around back and wait. There’s a service entrance I can get through in under a minute if you get into trouble, and I’m on comms.”

  I hold out my hand to help Evianna up, then tuck her against my right side. “As soon as we get into the building, darlin’, we’ll do a comm check. The mic is on all the time. So don’t fiddle with your ear, don’t touch it to make sure it’s still there. Got it?”

  “Uh huh.”

  She’s been so quiet since we left the hotel, I’m worried. But we have to go through with this—and it has to be tonight. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be by your side the whole time.”