“This is crazy.”
Bridgette glanced up from her laptop as Sam’s voice sounded in the room, watching him spear his fingers through his hair until he’d fisted the strands at the back of his head. His blue eyes looked far more captivating than she remembered, though she had a feeling it wasn’t just his eyes—it was him. All of him. From his shaggy locks to every hard inch of muscle, and god, was there a lot of muscle.
He’d volunteered to work with her on her kick boxing the past few days, and after a couple of hours of kicks and strikes, he’d stripped off his shirt. The sheer expanse of rippled flesh had stolen what little breath she’d had, and had left her feeling weak-kneed. And from much more than just fatigue.
Though, she hadn’t missed the collection of scars crisscrossing his body—testament to everything he’d endured during his time in the service. Something he’d made clear was off limits, even if she hadn’t come right out and questioned him on it. But it had been obvious by the shift in his eyes and the way he’d studied her that he’d been waiting for her to ask. And she’d felt certain he would have stopped the discussion before it had begun.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one harboring secrets. Or who had changed over the past decade. But, if she were honest, it wasn’t his body that impressed her the most. The man was funny and sincere, with an intelligence that rivaled any scholar she’d encountered. His years in the service had brought out qualities in him she hadn’t known he possessed, and the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to remember why she’d held a grudge for so long. Hell, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t made some horrible mistakes.
She brushed her fingers along her side, cursing silently when she realized Sam was following the movement. She had a bad feeling he’d guessed far more than she wanted him to know about the parts of her past she’d been keeping from him. But, so far, in the week they’d been unlikely roommates, he hadn’t pushed her for more information. In fact, he’d been the perfect guest—if having him shadow her every move, from work, to exercising, to getting groceries—classified him as a guest.
Either way, he’d definitely taken keeping her safe to a whole new level. He’d gone ballistic when she’d received a series of ominous calls on her new cell a couple days ago, especially when all his high-tech gear deduced was that the calls had come from a burner phone with a Seattle number. Nothing new, there. However, since then, he’d increased his vigilance, not that she’d thought that was possible. But, somehow, he’d gotten closer. He’d insisted on sleeping on a mattress on the floor in her room—a fact that had unnerved her the most. She’d been worried she’d have a nightmare and end up telling him everything. Thankfully, so far, she’d managed to hold it together.
Though, she’d heard him mumbling the past two nights and was curious what he’d been dreaming about. What missions still haunted him. Who the person was he’d called for a few times—not that she’d ask without provocation. The last thing she needed was to start that conversation. Give him a reason to question her.
Bridgette worked up a smile, nodding at the papers spread around the table. “Is there a problem?”
He narrowed his eyes, still focusing on her side before dragging his gaze up to meet hers. “Do you have any idea how many of your previous cases have suspects that are both capable and likely to be the person threatening to kill you?”
“Most of the offenders are still incarcerated. I’d say seven. Maybe eight.”
“Seventeen, darling. Seventeen highly unstable, morbidly violent assholes have the means to either come after you themselves or hire someone to do it. Being in jail doesn’t seem to slow these guys down. At least three of them are still running their gangs from the inside.”
She leaned back in her chair, resting her arms on the table. “It’s a daunting task. Just getting enough evidence to make a trial possible is often years in the making. The police are overtasked and underfunded. And, once we do manage to incarcerate someone…it’s frustrating to try and gather more intel. The rules change once you’re inside. All we can do is keep monitoring the gangs. Hope we can put more of them away.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Though, seventeen sounds a bit high. Are you sure?”
He arched his brow.
“Fine. You’re sure. I didn’t realize they’d added up to that many over the past few years. Once I’m finished with a case, I move on to the next. Even now, I have three more I’m working on while I’m waiting for this trial to start. It’s endless.”
“In other words, there’s a new list of people who will have your name on the top of their shit list.”
“Only if I win.”
“That doesn’t seem to be a problem.” Sam stood then made his way over to her desk. “And that’s not even considering the felons you made deals with.”
“I doubt you have to include them. The people who makes deals want to do their time and move on. Repent, I guess. Besides, I don’t deal on the big cases. Period. Never have. Never will.”
Sam palmed the table. “You know, if someone had bet me back when we were teenagers that you’d become this ball-busting lawyer, I’d have taken that bet. Whatever happened to becoming a psychologist? I thought you wanted to probe into people’s psyches? Figure out what made them tick then help them put all their shit back together?”
A ghostly voice echoed in the back of her mind, followed by flashes of that night. The one she couldn’t quite remember but could never forget. The disgust that had resonated in his words. The feel of his boot against her ribs. The cold slide of the knife…
She pushed to her feet, ignoring the way the chair scraped along the wood, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I started down that road. Got my bachelor’s in psychology with a minor in law. Even managed to get my Master’s in Forensic Psychology over the past few years from an online university.” She smiled. “Between cases, when I had time.”
“So, why go to law school, at all, instead of pursuing that straight off? It’s obviously still a passion if you squeezed in enough time to get your Master’s when you were already working your butt off as a lawyer. Looking at all of your past cases, there’s no question you’re kick ass in the courtroom. I’m sure you would have been just as great working the other side of things as a psychologist.”
“People change. Take different paths. And I’d like to think I’ve done my part in making Seattle a bit safer for everyone. That I haven’t sat idly by and prayed for a solution. I’ve made my own.”
“Of course, you have. It’s just…”
She cursed under her breath at the way he stared at her, and she knew she’d just given him more proof that she had demons lurking beneath her skin. She sighed. “I’m not the only mystery, you know. I never would have dreamed that you’d join the Army Rangers. Make it all the way through that training. Not many do. And you made lieutenant. That’s impressive, Sam. You’re a hero.”
Shadows crossed his expression as he drew himself up. “Not a hero. Definitely not that.” He narrowed his eyes then crossed his arms over his chest. “How long are we going to do this?”
A hint of panic cooled her skin, beading it with bumps. “Do what?”
“Are you really going to stand there and treat me like a fool? I realize I still have some groveling to do from before—if you ever let me explain—but you just said it, yourself. I’m not who I was before.”
He moved around the table, gently taking one of her hands in his as he gave her an encouraging smile. “I thought you should know. I called Hank that day I arrived. I asked him to have his contacts look into something for me.”
Bile burned the back of her throat. “Do I want to know what that was?”
He pursed his lips then released her hand, bracing one hip against her desk. “I wanted to know if you’d ever been involved in any personal lawsuits or criminal cases. If there were other factors that could impact this assignment.”
“Personal?” She swallowed against the hard punch of fear, taking a quick step backwards. God, if he’d unearthed…
She wrapped her arms around her waist, doing her best to hold herself together. “I’ve never filed a personal lawsuit. Or been in a criminal case, other than as a lawyer. A fact you could have just asked me about, instead of going behind my back.”
“Hank confirmed you hadn’t. But you’re only lying to yourself if you think you would have told me if you had.”
“That’s not fair. I’ve been very cooperative, especially since I didn’t want you here in the first place. Yet, you’re still here.”
“With respect to my presence and your work, absolutely. In fact, you’ve been a model client. But, where your private life is concerned—”
“That’s because it’s just that. Private. And it has no bearing on someone sending me photos in the mail or calling my cell. I’m trying to put the head of the Stevens’ family in jail for one of the largest drug smuggling rings we’ve uncovered to date. That’s who’s behind the threats.”
“While I agree that’s the logical answer, I can’t rule out that someone might be using this case—a very high-profile, publicly broadcast case—as a way of getting to you while keeping the focus on Stevens and the people under him. It would be the perfect cover.”
“That seems like a bit of a stretch to me. This isn’t some covert mission, Sam. Where real life is concerned, the obvious answer is generally the correct one. Like the saying goes…when you hear thundering hooves, think horses, not zebras.”
“Assumptions are dangerous, and I won’t allow you to get injured on my watch because I was too damn lazy or stupid to look beyond the obvious.” He straightened, taking a step toward her. “I’m not prying just so you can think I’m an ass. I’m worried that whatever you’re keeping from me might be tied to the threats against you. And I can’t protect you if I don’t have all the facts.”
“It’s not.”
Sam broke eye contact, looking as if he was searching for patience, before releasing a long, slow breath. “I’m not saying this to piss you off, but seeing as it’s my job to keep you safe, I should be the one to judge what’s a threat and what isn’t.”
“Do you think I want someone to hurt me?”
He snapped his head up. “Of course not—”
“Then, I’m serious when I say, this is about work. Not my personal life.”
“Bridgette…”
“Why did you leave the military?”
Sam inhaled, clenching his jaw then retreating a step. “Excuse me?”
“You want me to tell you what I’m hiding, then I think you should have to do the same. So…why did you leave the military?”
“You already know why.”
“As I recall, all you said was that you weren’t in the service, anymore. That’s not a reason.”
He copied her stance, crossing his arms over his massive chest—making the muscles in his biceps flex, even through his sweater. “I got injured on a mission and was medically discharged. Your turn.”
She scoffed. “Oh, no. That’s the easy, non-disclosure response you give everyone. Not the real one. And I’d know. I have a practiced answer, too. Want to hear it? I dated a guy who turned out to be a bit of a dick. But who hasn’t?”
“This dick have a name?”
“If we’re talking names, then who’s Gray?”
Sam’s nostrils flared, and he took another step back, bumping into the table. The thing slid sideways a bit, nearly tipping him onto his ass before he regained his balance by palming the surface. She didn’t miss his increased breath or the extra white in his eyes.
He closed them for a moment then wet his lips before focusing on her, again. “How…”
She did her best to stay rooted to the spot, despite her innate desire to wrap her arms around him and shelter him from whatever memories haunted him. “You called out his name a few times the past couple of nights. I assume it’s a him. A fellow Army Ranger.”
The muscle in his temple pulsed. “I… He…”
She couldn’t stop herself from moving forward, this time. “You don’t have to tell me. I was trying to make a point, but… I shouldn’t have gone there. That was a low blow, and I’m sorry.”
She kicked at the floor, sighing. “I know you’re only trying to keep me safe, but… Shit. I’m not quite there. Not ready to talk about it. Some memories are better left buried. So, for now, just please, trust me.”
His chest heaved as he drew in a few deep breaths, the wild look in his eyes finally easing. He gave her a curt nod then walked back to his desk, not making eye contact as he lowered into the chair then started digging through the papers, again. She returned to her spot, cursing at the uncomfortable silence that stretched out between them. The tension in the room grew until doing anything other than breathing seemed impossible.
Bridgette closed her laptop then stood, making her way over to Sam. It took a few moments of standing in front of his work area before he finally looked up at her. Not even a hint of a smile curved his lips as he leaned back in his chair and stared at her as if she might lash out at him.
“Look, it’s been a long few weeks.” She sighed and let her shoulders slump a bit. “Honestly, it’s been a long few years. And I tend to forget that I’m not in the courtroom all the time. That I need to pull back and not treat everything—everyone—with the same…intensity. I have a bad habit of going straight for the jugular, which explains why the few friends I have are either other lawyers, cops, or feds. I’m just not that great around other people. I have a hard time turning it all off.”
Sam arched a brow. “Like I said before. Winning doesn’t seem to be an issue for you.”
“I’ll assume that’s your polite way of saying I’m cutthroat.”
“You’re a lawyer. That’s to be expected.”
“Right.” She glanced away. While she suspected he’d meant it in a positive way, she couldn’t quite crush the feeling that he viewed her like most people did—heartless. Cold. Dare she say unlovable?
“Bridg.”
She forced herself to make eye contact, again.
He gave her a smile. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Forget it. It’s fine.”
“Darling—”
She cursed the way the word rolled over her. He’d been using it since he’d breezed into her life, again, and it still affected her far too much. Made her long to hear him say it in more intimate surroundings.
“No. Really. I’m not really fond of lawyers, either. But… What I came over to say was, I’m beat. I think I just read the same paragraph seven times, which is a pretty good indication it’s time to close the laptop. But, seeing as it’s not that late, yet, I thought I’d make some popcorn. Put on a movie and wrap myself in a blanket on the couch. Care to join me?”
He tilted his head to the side, as if trying to read whether she had ulterior motives before waving at the papers. “I still haven’t narrowed down this long list of suspects.”
“And I doubt you’ll have it all figured out in the next couple of hours. Not because you’re incapable, but because I’m betting there isn’t any way to narrow it down. Come on, Sam. It’s just a couple of hours. Didn’t you say you had to stay close to me?”
He chuckled. “Using my own words against me. That’s shrewd, Counselor.”
“How about I sweeten the deal? You kick back and join me for a movie, and I’ll let you pick what we watch. And…” She held up her hand when he went to interrupt her. “I have a case of beer in the fridge. Smithwicks. Nice and thick the way you like it.”
“I get to pick, and you’re plying me with alcohol. This sounds serious. I’ll take your offer, but I’ll just have a pop.”
“A pop? What are you, twelve?”
“I’m working.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Are you seriously telling me that the mighty Sam Montgomery can no longer hold his liquor? That you’ll be impaired after one beer? Because the guy I knew could handle six when he was eighteen and still kick ass with the best of them.”
He pushed to his feet. “Goading me, now?”
“I’m talking one beer. One. I don’t drink often, either.”
“You drive a hard bargain, but all right. We’ll each have one beer, and you have to promise to watch the entire movie. No running off because you don’t like what I choose.”
“Deal. Just…no horror movies, okay? Or anything that’s going to make me cry.”
“But horror movies are the best. And I’d get the benefit of you begging me to hold you and keep you safe.”
“In your dreams, Montgomery.” She huffed then headed for the doorway. “Fine. Pick whatever you want. Horror. Some sad flick that will have me questioning my life choices. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
She stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. “But, when I wake up screaming in the night and freak you out, no crying foul.”
She left, palming her stomach as butterflies fluttered to life, followed by a wave of heat just beneath her skin. Sensations she hadn’t felt in…well, since she’d dated Sam back in high school. Though, considering her past, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he was her benchmark of men. Not when the only other guy she’d gotten serious with had turned out to be an abusive prick. Still…she couldn’t quite deny that her mandatory prison stay was turning out to be far more enjoyable than she’d imagined. And it wasn’t close to being over.