Ryan stared straight ahead, his hands on the wheel at ten and two.

Things had spun quickly out of control on a much larger scale than he’d been prepared for. When he’d decided that there was something chasing Carson he’d thought it was perhaps an ex or pseudo-friend that she wanted to hide from. Maybe she owed someone money or perhaps she was a snitch. The reality was much bigger and complicated. He didn’t know how to keep her safe and he needed to somehow ensure her well being and that of her family.

“Where are we going?” Carson’s voice was weary. They hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night and today would have exhausted anyone.

“The Aegis Group office. The guys went there after they were released.” The sun had almost set. The sky was turning into a dark blanket overhead.

“My car—”

“We took care of it.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I lied to you?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper drowned out by the engine and radio.

“I told you, I want to forgive you.” And he meant it. Sure, there was still a bit of a sting deep down, but that didn’t matter as much as a life.

“You want to, but you haven’t.”

“I just need a little time. By tomorrow morning it will be history.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?” He glanced at her face mostly in shadow.

He cared about her regardless of what she hadn’t told him. The lies were a hard thing to swallow, and he didn’t entirely trust her, but he understood her better.

There were questions he wanted to ask her, like: why not ask for help? Those would have to wait. Their first order of business would be to put a name to the unmasked man. Only once they did that could he ensure her safety and the time to work through how they’d gotten to this point.

He turned into the parking lot of the Aegis Group offices. The only vehicles left all belonged to his coworkers.

“This is us. Come on.” He killed the engine and got out.

Ryan made it around to Carson’s side and opened her door before she’d finished unbuckling her seatbelt. She was moving slowly. The first responders had checked her over and agreed she was uninjured, but they couldn’t touch the invisible wounds or prescribe her something for the fear.

“Give me your hand.” He helped her out of the car and kept her close for the short walk inside and up the elevator to the floor they’d recently taken over.

In the beginning they’d shared a suite with another company. It hadn’t been long before they needed to move into their own space. And then they’d annexed a bit of an empty suite, then another until now they had this whole floor. With the way business was growing they’d be looking to break ground on their own facility in the future.

“Merida, do you live here?” Ryan paused inside the door leading to their reception area.

The dark haired, no-nonsense woman glanced up at him. She was still dressed in slacks and a blouse, every inch the professional woman.

“Someone has to keep you in line.” She nodded at the hall. “Gavin’s running facial.”

“Who else is here?”

“Who do you think?” Ian strolled out into the open dressed in sweatpants and nursing a cup of coffee. “Hell of a time to get the short end of the fuckin’ stick.”

“Ian and Travis are covering nights while Zain is on vacation,” Merida said.

Ryan remembered Ian telling him something like that.

The home office in Illinois had always been manned twenty-four hours, seven days a week due to their work all over the world. It wasn’t until recently that the Seattle office had considered maintaining the same schedule. Ryan didn’t want to work those hours, but he knew from firsthand experience how much it could matter in a tight spot to be able to call up support directly at any hour.

“It’s like we don’t have any work to do around here or anythin’.” Ian turned toward Carson and held out his hand. “Ian. You must be the one keepin’ Ryan on his toes.”

“Don’t let that ugly face fool you. He’s harmless.” Ryan nudged Carson out of her trance.

“Nice to meet you,” she blurted.

“Want to come back? See where we are with things?” Ian nodded at the hall.

“Yeah. Come on.” Ryan kept his hand on Carson’s lower back, guiding her down into what had become their war room.

It was probably intended to be a communal work space. For their purposes they had clusters of desks and computers, each with a specialized focus.

Ryan’s housemates stood around a set of computers while the projector showed a live stream on the wall of a young man with unkept hair and several days of stubble on his chin.

“Gavin, anyone teach you how to shave yet?” Ryan asked.

“Haa, haa. Fuck you.” Gavin flipped off the camera without looking.

“Client,” Ian barked.

Gavin visibly started and glanced at the camera, then lower. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“I’m not really a client...” Carson glanced at Ryan.

“Gavin needs the practice.” Ian winked at her.

“What do we know?” Ryan asked, eager to get to the bottom of the day’s events.

“Well, Ben Grewing never left the country,” Gavin said. He really was a mini-Zain. It was downright eerie. “Our TSA friends were able to track his movements through the airport. Looks like he went there, tried to get a plane ticket at a kiosk, then split when he realized he was grounded.”

“Then where was he for the last week?” Ryan asked.

“No clue.” Gavin shrugged.

“That’s not an appropriate answer,” Ian said.

“Fuck. Sorry.” Gavin winced. “I mean, we don’t yet know his whereabouts. But we will. Better?”

“Always, always, always give an answer. Even if it’s a fancy way of sayin’ you don’t fuckin’ know.” Ian sipped his coffee.

“You just said fuck and I can’t?” Gavin glared into the camera.

“I’m Irish,” Ian said, as though that explained everything.

“Have you identified the guys from the garage? The ones who killed Ben?” Ryan was most concerned about them. Yeah, he knew that their identities could be discovered in Ben’s past, but Ryan was hoping they could fast track it.

“Nothing so far, but I’ve got the picture running through a few databases. If he’s on anyone’s radar, we should know. It’s going to take hours though. This isn’t snap-your-fingers kinds of magic.”

“I called my buddy with the FBI and he can talk to us in the mornin’. I didn’t want to say too much over the phone,” Ian said.

“Owen?” Ryan assumed Ian was talking about their mutual friend.

“Yeah, he got real button lipped when I mentioned the name Walker. Somethin’s not right.” Ian shook his head.

Ryan didn’t like the sound of that. Owen was still a fairly new agent. He might not know much, but he was someone they could trust completely. Hell, the guy had lost his job as a homicide detective because he couldn’t be corrupted. Maybe Owen could tell them a few things about Agent Walker, his partner and Detective Blew.

“What about security tapes? Have we checked the area for a shot of the getaway vehicle?” Alec asked.

“Police have already requested it. We’re requesting copies from them,” Travis said. “I’ve got a job to go work on. Pizza should be here soon.”

“Catch all the cheaters.” Ian slapped Travis on the shoulder as he strode past.

“So there’s nothing for us to do right now?” Alec asked.

“Not unless you want to chase your tail.” Ian shrugged. “You lock your place up?”

“Yeah, we swung by there and packed up all our gear.” Paxton turned away from the monitors. “We figure we’d stay here in the bunk room in case those guys found our house.”

That made sense to Ryan. They lived close enough to the gas station that if those men had found Carson there, they’d locate the house as well. The problem Ryan saw was that the bunk room was small and no place for Carson to spend the night after what she’d gone through.

“Good idea.” Ian tossed his cup into the trash can. “Ryan can take Carson to my house. The garage apartment is just missin’ some finishin’ touches.”

“When are you moving out of your sister’s house, dude?” Alec focused in on Ian.

“You aren’t askin’ my sister out, fuck face.” Ian flipped Alec off.

“You can flip him off but I can’t flip you off?” Gavin asked through the speakers.

“Because I’m the boss.” Ian finished off his coffee.

Carson tugged on Ryan’s hand.

“I’m going to sit, okay?” she whispered.

“Of course. Here.” He pulled a rolling chair out for her and held it.

She sank down, her skin paler and the circles under her eyes darker than before. She was fading and before long she’d have a real break down. That was the kind of thing a person would want to do in privacy.

“What about Carson’s family? Do we know about their safety?” Ryan knew Frankie was Carson’s biggest pressure spot. Keeping her safe was paramount.

“Police have a cruiser at their house, but we have not communicated with them.” Ian tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash.

“D-do they know?” Carson asked. It was the first thing she’d said to the room at large.

“No, it’s a plain clothes unit,” Ian replied.

“Oh.” Carson nodded.

At some point she had to tell them, but was now the right time?

It was difficult to say. If they informed her family of the situation, they could panic and put everyone in more danger. If they didn’t know to be watchful, they could walk into a tight spot without realizing it. That call wasn’t up to Ryan though. It was Carson or the authorities who got to decide that.

“I-it’s movie night. They’ll stay home until it’s time for work tomorrow. They don’t need to know tonight,” Carson said.

“Good to know.” Ryan squeezed her shoulder.

“Why don’t you get Carson out of here?” Ian directed that suggestion at Ryan. “Get some rest, take some notes and we’ll meet up first thing in the morning.”

What did Ian want to chat to his housemates about? Did it matter? All Ryan wanted to do was keep Carson safe and right now she needed sleep and privacy more than anything else.

THIS HAD TO BE what a zombie felt like.

Carson didn’t choose to watch horror movies, but Frankie loved them. Carson had never truly contemplated the life of the living dead, but it couldn’t be that dissimilar from what she felt like right now. Empty. Hungry. There were aches and pains, but they were distant. Mostly she was numb.

Maybe she was asleep?

Ryan turned the car. The inertia had her leaning against the door. Hear head thunked against the glass.

Not asleep.

The radio played softly. She could barely make out the songs.

He hadn’t tried to talk to her since they got in the car. She didn’t know if she should be grateful for that, or dread what was coming. Right now she didn’t care. She was safe, no one was trying to kill her and someone else had all the answers. She knew that very soon she’d have to take over what happened to her and her family. Ryan wasn’t going to save her all the time. But for now, all she had to do was sit here.

“Chloe’s house is right up here.” He turned the wheel.

“Who is Chloe?” Had she missed that name? There were a lot of people to keep track of and Carson didn’t think she had them all down.

“Chloe is Ian’s sister, the mother of the girl we did the birthday party video for. Ian and his wife, Taylor, live with Chloe. Then there’s the kids and the dogs. But we’re going to be in the newly finished garage apartment. We probably won’t see any of them, so don’t worry about keeping names straight.”

“Oh, good.” Carson closed her eyes.

She wasn’t up for more people. Right now she could barely handle one person talking to her.

He pulled the Mustang into the driveway of a large, two-story house. It was so white it seemed to glow. He killed the engine and got out without saying anything else.

This wasn’t his mess, and yet here he was picking up the pieces of her disaster. God, she was a piece of shit for dragging him into this.

Carson closed her eyes. Guilt pressed her into the seat, weighing her down.

The passenger door opened and a cool, evening breeze blew across her face carrying with it the smell of freshly cut grass and cleansing rain.

When had it rained?

“Come on, before it really opens up and dumps on us.” Ryan took her hand and tugged her to her feet.

Carson blinked around them at the house and the detached garage sitting a little further back. Sure enough, lights shone out of windows over the two car structure. Welcoming. Inviting. Cheerful.

The cool kiss of rain landed on her cheek.

“Come on.” Ryan laced their fingers together, like he’d done a dozen times before, and led her toward the garage.

They entered the building by way of a side door, then took an interior staircase up to the apartment overhead. There was a queen sized bed, a sofa and TV, a small table and chairs. Shear curtains hung over the windows with shimmering blue drapes pulled back. The whole set up was cozy and decorated by a woman if she had to guess.

“Here we go.” Ryan walked past her and placed three bags down on the floor by the bed.

One of them was her duffle bag with her purse tucked inside the open zipper.

When had he gotten that? Where had the bags come from?

Ryan turned to look at her. A wrinkle marred his brow and his lips pressed together, forming a bit of a hook on one end.

He didn’t like what he saw.

She couldn’t blame him.

She didn’t like herself much right now either.

“Do you...want to shower? Change clothes?” he asked.

What kind of question was that?

Carson glanced down at herself, and it all came back.

Ben, hand outstretched toward the unmasked man. He’d been trying to talk his way out of the mess. She remembered seeing the burst of muzzle fire, but in the back of her mind she’d been convinced someone had knocked a plate onto the floor. Shooting someone like this just didn’t happen.

“Carson? Hey?” Ryan cupped her face and lifted her chin.

“Shower,” she said even though her throat tried its best to close up on her.

“Okay. I’ll get it going for you.”

He guided her across the apartment to a walled-in bathroom. She stood on the fuzzy mat while he laid out a towel and brought her things from her bag.

Why was he doing this for her? Why couldn’t she do it for herself?

“I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?” He hovered in the door.

When she didn’t answer he quietly shut the door behind him and left her alone.

She stared at the shiny, white octagon tiles on the floor. Every eight tiles a black one offset the pristine surface. Kind of like the blood on the wall in her apartment. She swallowed and glanced at the mirror over the sink.

Ryan had wiped off her face while they waited for the cops to arrive, but there were dried, rust colored spots on her silk blouse and darker splotches on her jacket and pants.

Blood.

That was what it looked like in clothes.

Movies made it seem dark and syrup like. This was more akin to a bit of tomato sauce that had splattered on her during a good meal. Except it wasn’t.

She traced a spot on her collar bone.

Did blood stain skin? Would she be branded with Ben’s death for the rest of her life?

Carson continued to stand there, her mind stuck on repeat.

“You okay?” Ryan tapped on the door.

No, nothing was okay, least of all her.

He cracked the door open. She saw his face in the mirror just over her shoulder. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, so she focused on the floor.

Ryan crossed to the glass walled shower and turned it on. That done, he focused his attention on her.

She couldn’t even shower properly.

He grasped the lapels of her jacket and slid it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Over the last week he’d undressed her more than a few times, but he’d thought they were building something then. Shame burned her from the inside out.

It was all her fault. Hurting Ryan. Getting Ben killed. Putting her family at risk.

“You can talk to me, you know?” Ryan unbuttoned her blouse, his motions quick, economical. There wasn’t a bit of the sensual slowness to his movements. “I’ve seen people die. I know what it’s like.”

But was it his fault?

She doubted that.

He undid her pants and helped her step out of her heels. Bit by bit, he removed her clothes until she was naked.

“In you go.” He guided her to the shower and opened the door for her.

The tiles were cool against her feet while the water was warm. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, willing the water to wash all her problems away.

Something hard hit the tile floor.

Carson turned her head and stared at the Ryan shaped shadow on the other side of the fogged glass, but couldn’t make out what he was doing until the door opened and he stepped in beside her, the plastic shower caddy she’d packed for his house in hand. He hooked the handle on the door.

Ryan took her hand and guided her under the spray of water. The rhythmic pounding on her head deepened the sense of being adrift, except for Ryan’s hands on her.

He ran his hands through her hair.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he said.

This what? she wanted to ask, but her mouth wouldn’t move.

“My dad had twin girls when I was...twelve? I used to have to baby sit them in high school. They always got food or some shit in their hair and I’d have to wash it before Dad got home.”

Big, stern Ryan doing a little girl’s hair. Now there was a mental picture.

She’d had him all wrong in the beginning. She’d taken what he presented, this bachelor image of his, and hadn’t bothered to look deeper.

“You want to do the shampoo, or should I?” he asked.

Carson held out her hand and he squirted a liberal amount of shampoo into her hand. It felt as though she had weights attached to her wrists, but she managed to slick the shampoo in. Her fingers tangled with Ryan’s. The suds ran down her neck and back, washing away the day.

He slicked conditioner into her hair, working it in. The fragrance of the floral cream wrapped a balm around her.

She was safe.

Carson leaned back against Ryan. She didn’t deserve his kindness or this act of care. She’d treated him horribly, and yet he was still here.

He wrapped his arms around her, his face tucked into the crook of her neck.

“Almost done, I promise,” he whispered.

He grabbed her bottle of soap and using his hands slicked the foam body wash over her chest and arms. Everywhere he hadn’t cleaned before. Another time the feel of his hands on her would be sensual, arousing. Right now they were a comfort. Every touch anchored her here, in this safe box, as he took care of her in a way she did not deserve.

She turned to face him. This time she forced herself to meet his dark brown gaze. The shadows of pain were gone, and all she saw was warmth.

“There we go. All done,” he said. The corners of his mouth lifted for a moment. “Hungry?”

“Sure.” She knew she should be.

Ryan turned off the shower and stepped out. He grabbed a towel and handed it to her before getting one for himself.

“I think these are clean, but I couldn’t quite tell.” He nodded at some of her clothes sitting on the toilet lid.

When had he brought those in here?

“Thank you,” she muttered.

He secured his towel around his waist then grabbed the over-sized shirt she liked to sleep in.

Why was he being this nice to her?

She slid her arms through the shirt he held then he dropped the shirt over her head. The soft fabric stuck to her damp skin while the cold tiles felt good against her heated flesh.

Ryan gathered up his clothes and ducked out into the apartment, leaving her to pull on clean underwear. There was no bra or shorts, but it was just the two of them. She couldn’t bring herself to care too much about what she wasn’t wearing.

She exited the bathroom only to stop at the sight of Ryan mostly dressed and wiggling his shoes on.

Was he leaving her?

Where was he going?

Was she going to be alone?

“Chloe said there’s food ready. I’m going to go grab some. Any requests?”

Oh.

Right.

Food.

He had mentioned that.

“Whatever’s easy.” She clutched her soiled clothes to herself to keep from reaching for him and asking him to stay.

“Come over here.” Ryan took her hand and led her to the sofa.

He took her clothes from her and dropped them in a pile. A warm, fuzzy blanket encircled her shoulders then he pushed her down onto the cushions.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” He bent and kissed her forehead, something he’d done so many times, then he was gone.

Carson listened to his feet on the stairs, the sound of the door below, then nothing except the pitter pattering of rain on the roof. She gathered the blanket around her and leaned her head on a pillow.

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t sit back and do nothing. It seemed like she was stuck in some kind of mud, holding her frozen in a moment she couldn’t escape. Ryan had kept her from sinking lower, but now he was gone and she wouldn’t blame him if he left for good.

She was honestly surprised when ten minutes later the door downstairs opened.

“It’s just me,” Ryan called out. “Chloe lied when she said food was ready.”

Carson twisted to watch the door at the top of the stairs, holding her breath until it swung open and Ryan entered juggling a thermos and a gigantic picnic basket. His clothes were damp and his hair slicked to his skull, either from the shower or the rain, she didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan paused in the act of removing his shoes, his frown creating deep brackets around his mouth.

“I...wasn’t sure you were coming back.” She didn’t like this truth.

He kicked off his shoes and circled the sofa. The thermos and basket went on the coffee table while his eyes never left her.

They changed.

His focus seemed to narrow to her, and he was that guy again. The one who wore suits and got to look kick ass every day. He leaned one arm on the back of the sofa and placed his hand on her knee.

“I was always coming back,” he said.

“I know that’s what you said, but...” Her throat closed up and she blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

“But it is.” She turned her head until she could smell him. The soap still clinging to his skin. The familiar undertones that were all Ryan.

This was never supposed to get complicated. A few days, and that was it. But now here they were, a week later, one dead body and her breaking heart.