CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Leesburg, VA
Wednesday, 3:30 a.m.
ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. APPARENTLY, SCOTT’S job was rife with them, but he didn’t appear happy to see this one.
He directed Valerie to the back seat of the SUV where a wool blanket and several towels lay stacked on the dark leather. Her hands were so numb and shaky that she couldn’t latch the seatbelt, but she had enough control to towel dry her hair and swab her clothes before wrapping the blanket around her body and over her damp head.
Her jaw hurt from trying to prevent her teeth from clacking together, and she couldn’t get her shoulders to relax. Had she ever been this cold?
In the front seat, Scott dried off in silence while Tara backed out of the parking lot. The woman turned down the road away from the small airport and jacked up the heat, blasting blessedly warm air through the vents at Valerie’s feet.
“The drive shouldn’t be bad this late. Less than an hour,” Tara said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “By the way, I’m Tara Fujimoto, business manager at Steele. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Hi.” Valerie worked her cold jaw, trying to loosen the clenched muscles.
“I’m not sure if you drink coffee, but it’ll help warm you up,” Tara said, passing back a stainless steel travel mug. “I have cream and sugar if you want it.”
“Thank you.” Valerie added hazelnut-flavored cream and three sugars and clasped the precious mug with both hands. Tara had seemingly thought of everything.
“This one’s yours.” Tara looked at Scott and gestured to another travel mug. “You were limping. What happened?”
“Shrapnel.” He waved off her concern. “Valerie took care of it.”
“Shrapnel? Were you in an explosion?” Tara’s calm, almost flippant voice changed to an impossibly high pitch, fraught with concern. She took the corner a little too fast and they all swayed to the left.
“Someone shot at us as we tried to board the plane.”
“Shit.” She carefully brought the car to a stop to the side of the road just before the on-ramp to the toll road. “Was anyone else hurt?” she asked, glancing back at Valerie, who shook her head. “Is Caitlyn okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. Why are you stopping?” Scott asked, looking around at the empty street through rain-drenched windows.
“Thank God.” She grabbed her phone from the console and tapped the screen. “I’m texting Kurt and Dan. They need to take extra precautions.”
“Why isn’t one of them—or one of the other guys—here? If someone on Hollowell’s team had been waiting for us on this end, you could have been hurt.”
Tara patted his arm before putting the car back in Drive. “Aw, you do love me,” she said, her voice pretty much back to normal.
A little piece of Valerie’s heart twisted with jealousy at the familiarity between Scott and their driver. Which was freaking stupid. But how did one compete with a woman like Tara?
“Look, I know you can shoot, even under pressure. Dan told me how you held your own after you and Jenna escaped,” he said, lowering his voice, but not so much Valerie couldn’t hear him over the rain or the rhythmic hum of the windshield wipers. “But you’re not trained for defensive driving or hand-to-hand combat.”
Now Valerie was eavesdropping shamelessly. Tara’s escape?
“True,” Tara said. “Which is partly why I’m here. No one watches the secretary.”
“Nothing against secretaries, but you’re far more than that.”
“I know that, but the guys who are after you don’t. Besides, Jason and Todd are in Tampa watching out for your mom, you’re here, I don’t think Mick’s ever coming to work for Steele, and Kurt is the person they’re most likely to be watching, if anyone. Dan is at the safe house.”
Valerie assumed those were all people Scott worked with. And apparently, they all trusted him, supported him. Believed in him. Her eyelids burned. Jay had been her best friend at Aggressor. She couldn’t think of another person she’d go to at the company for help. Not one person who would be on her side in this scenario. How sad was it that she’d been there for three years and had only one true friend to show for it?
And now he was gone.
She bit back a sob as empty office buildings passed outside her window, bright cones of rain visible under the parking lot lights. Pressing her forehead to the cold glass, she closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. Tired of looking over her shoulder, tired of fighting her attraction to Scott, tired of worrying about who she could trust. And straight-up exhausted.
The droplets drumming overhead, the swish of wet pavement, and the low tones of Tara and Scott’s conversation combined with the warmth from the coffee, the hot air blowing on her feet, and the comfort of the thick blanket to pull her into a restless, half-aware sleep.
She woke as the car pulled to a stop in front of a two-story, brick apartment complex tinted orange under the streetlamps. “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Dan’s old apartment in Falls Church,” Tara said, shutting off the engine. “He and his wife just closed on a house in Vienna, but the lease here isn’t up until the end of the month.”
So they had less than a week to either take down Duncan or find a new hideout.
“He’s renting a truck after Thanksgiving to donate his old stuff, so the place is still partially furnished.”
Thanksgiving. Was that really tomorrow? How depressing. The only thing she could think of to be thankful for right now was Scott and his friends.
Okay, and being alive.
On Scott’s go-ahead, the three of them quietly exited the SUV and faced the freezing rain once more. The trip across the lot and up the stairs was blessedly quick, even with Scott limping.
Much like Valerie’s apartment building, this one had an exterior entrance rather than an enclosed stairwell that would keep out the weather.
The door to 9D opened before Tara could knock, and a man in his early thirties with short brown hair and a dark tan ushered them into a tiled foyer. The bare-walled room beyond had a gray couch, a glass-and-metal coffee table, and a rickety-looking wooden dining table with two chairs parked under a cheap brass chandelier. His house in Vienna—an upper-class suburb just outside the Beltway—was likely a giant step up from this place.
“Dan Molina,” he said to Valerie after closing and locking the door behind them.
“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, almost surprised that he didn’t inadvertently crush hers.
He turned to Scott, repeating the gesture but adding a back slap. “Dude, I’m sorry you got sucked into this.” He only had a couple inches on Scott, but he dwarfed him with his broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Handsome, a bit over-pumped for her taste, and intimidating as hell. “You weren’t followed?”
Tara scoffed. “If we had a tail, I wouldn’t have come here.”
“Fair enough,” he said, holding up his hands. “I wasn’t questioning your skills.”
“Thanks for helping out,” Scott said. “Sorry to drag you away from your bride.”
The other man’s grin at the mention of his wife softened his features, and Valerie relaxed a bit. “No worries,” he said. “We owe you big time. Whatever you need, you name it.”
“He needs you to look at his leg,” Tara said. She turned to Valerie. “I’m not doubting your first aid prowess, but Dan was an Air Force PJ. Like a paramedic who drops in behind enemy lines with weapons and bandages.”
Dan shrugged and tilted his head, as if to say, “Yeah, I’m a badass but I don’t want to brag.”
Jesus. No wonder he looked like a commando. “Of course,” she stuttered out, intimidated again but glad someone with real medical expertise could help Scott.
Dan gestured him to a dining chair with a frown. “Let’s take a look.”
Scott sighed and sat wearily, watching his teammate remove first aid supplies from a duffle bag.
“Do you know someone named Alan Albert?” Dan asked, walking to the kitchen to wash his hands and forearms.
Valerie’s heart slammed into her throat. “Yes. He’s the one who drove us to Fort Worth.” And almost got us killed.
Dan returned to Scott and donned a pair of latex gloves. “Kurt called when you were on your way over. Alan was arrested for helping you escape. Apparently, he’s also the one who called the cops. He’s out on bail.”
Her gut turned to a block of ice. If Alan had given her up to her enemies, why had he notified law enforcement too? After everything she’d told him, he couldn’t have been surprised that the men who were after her would use deadly force. But he’d been trying to protect her in his own convoluted way, so maybe when she didn’t change her plans—or when the shooting started—he had second thoughts.
Damn you, Alan.
Tara put an arm around Valerie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Valerie took a deep breath and stood slowly, breaking the other woman’s embrace. She couldn’t meet Scott’s gaze. He’d been right about her friend all along, and she’d nearly gotten him killed because of it.
“It’s not your fault,” Scott said.
She nodded, fixing her gaze on the cushy brown carpet and hugging her waist. All of this was her fault. If she’d only kept her mouth shut from the beginning…
Tara cleared her throat and touched Valerie’s shoulder. “I bet you’d like to get into something dry. How about a warm shower?”
“Yes. Please.” Anything to take away the chill. And then she needed sleep. She shook off her melancholy the best she could. Reliving her mistakes wouldn’t change their situation, nor would it help her find a way out.
Tara led her past the kitchen with its Formica counters and white appliances into a short hallway that opened onto a bathroom and two bedrooms.
“There’s a change of clothes here for you.” Tara said as they entered the master bedroom. A pile of clothes was neatly folded on the queen-sized bed’s green comforter next to another set that was presumably for Scott. “I had to guess your size based on your driver’s license info, but I think I got pretty close.”
Valerie’s knees went weak with gratitude, and she suddenly wanted to cry. She was pretty sure everything in her bag except her computer—thankfully tucked into its protective neoprene sleeve—was wet. “Thank you so much. For helping us, for believing in us.”
“Of course.” Tara sounded surprised that she would expect anything less. “We trust Scott, and he trusts you. That’s enough for me.”
Valerie could only nod, still reeling from Alan’s treachery.
“There are empty hangers in the closet for your damp stuff, and extra bedding for whoever takes the couch since the spare bedroom is empty.” She opened the sliding closet doors and glanced at Valerie over her shoulder. “I assume that’ll be Scott.”
“We’ll draw straws.”
Tara smiled, but her dark eyes betrayed her fatigue. “I’ll leave you to your shower. Everything you need should be in there, but holler if I forgot something.”
Twenty minutes later, Valerie emerged warm and clean with washed and dried hair, wearing soft cotton pajamas. Amazing what a hot shower could do for the psyche. Except she could hardly keep her eyes open.
In addition to the pajamas, Tara had provided a red sweater, jeans, and a thick parka in forest green. She’d even thought to include a stretchy sports bra, running socks, and panties along with feminine supplies, a hairbrush and dryer, a razor, toothbrush, and toothpaste. And condoms.
Valerie had blushed at that.
The woman was thorough. Unnecessarily so, since it was Valerie’s fault Scott had been injured. He’d only trusted Alan on her say-so, and she’d been horribly wrong. Even if she and Scott weren’t running on fumes, sex would sadly be off the table.
Despite all of their kisses, at this point, she could only imagine him sticking around because she could help clear his name.
Except he’d tried to convince her they should split up now that he was hurt. Had that been a test? Or was he staying with her out of guilt or a sense of duty?
She sighed, too tired to solve that puzzle, and shuffled toward the kitchen in search of more hot coffee. As much as she wanted to sleep, she could use a little more java to ward off the chill that wanted to settle into her bones again.
In the living room, Scott sat with his back to her on the other side of the dining table, slouched down so his head rested against the top of the chair. The rest of the apartment appeared empty.
“Did Dan and Tara leave already?” she asked, simultaneously nervous and elated to be alone with him. “I wanted to thank them again.”
She stopped in her tracks, her insides frosting over as Tara rose from the space in front of Scott on the far side of the chair.
Scott glanced over his shoulder as Valerie entered the room, happy for the distraction from his leg. “Dan left a few minutes ago. He’s still in the honeymoon phase of his marriage, so I kicked him out.”
Valerie was breathtaking with her dark-gold hair hanging straight past her shoulders, wearing a red top and candy-cane-striped lounge pants. The color had returned to her cheeks, but her back was stiff and her fists were clenched, and Scott realized how Tara’s sudden appearance must have looked.
Steele’s business manager extraordinaire stood and cradled a small bundle of bloody gauze and wrappers, wrinkling her nose as she gestured with it. “I should have brought a bio bag.” She noticed Valerie and smiled. “Dan said you did a good job fixing him up,” she nodded toward Scott, “but the wound needed a few stitches. Luckily the man travels with a fully stocked medical kit. You feeling better?” she asked, striding into the kitchen on soft-soled sneakers.
Valerie caught his eye and her face flushed. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and relaxed her hands. “So much.” Looking at Tara, she smiled. “You thought of everything. I can’t thank you enough.”
Tara peeled latex gloves from her hands and dumped them with the other waste into the trash can. “No problem.” She shrugged. “This is what I do.”
It was true. Tara made sure the guys had whatever they needed to get the job done, often anticipating their needs before they did. And she somehow did it while looking like she’d just stepped out of a photo shoot. He’d never seen her in anything but a dress and heels, hair perfect. She looked different tonight, still beautiful, but more approachable in a sweatshirt and yoga pants with her hair pulled into a messy pile on top of her head. And yet, he only cared that Valerie was in the room.
Beautiful in her own way—in every way, as far as he was concerned—she was the one he wanted. The one who drew his attention no matter where she was. Her presence in the apartment was undeniable, even when she was in a different room. He was starting to crave having her nearby.
That was going to fuck him up in the end.
“I made more coffee,” Tara said. “Scott knows how to work the alarm and the WiFi, and there’s food in the cupboards and fridge.” She snagged a light-blue purse from the counter and retrieved her car keys. “Do you need anything else right now?”
Valerie shook her head. “No, this is wonderful.”
Scott rose from his chair, tugging down the fabric of his zipped-off pants to cover his thigh. He’d gone from hiding his scars from everyone for the last two years, to revealing them to three people in one day. How was that for ripping off the figurative Band-Aid? “I have the burner phone,” he said. “I’ll call if we need anything.”
Tara hugged Valerie. “Get some rest.”
Valerie laughed nervously, giving Scott an uncomfortable look.
On her way out, Tara repeated the gesture with Scott and whispered, “Good luck.”
He locked the door behind her and set the alarm.
Alone with Valerie.
He turned to face her and she frowned. “So, stitches. How’s your leg?”
“Dan gave me a local, so it feels pretty good right now.” He hobbled toward the kitchen holding the detached bottom of his pants leg. “This is nothing compared to last time.”
She nodded and bit her lip, turning away to pour a cup of coffee. “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Me either.” She sighed, holding the mug with both hands, rubbing her thumb over the handle.
As he passed, she reached out to stop him, but was too far away to touch. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For convincing you to trust Alan.” She stared into her drink. “For putting you in danger.”
“It’s not your fault. You had every reason to trust him.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, her drooping shoulders and downcast gaze the picture of defeat. First her boss, then Jay, now Alan. Without Scott and Steele, she had nobody left on her side.
He wanted badly to hold her, but he was damp and cold and sticky so he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He couldn’t take a shower without ruining his new bandage, but he could get the job done with soap and a washcloth. He’d made do with less.
He was done in ten minutes, dressed in boxers and a plain gray T-shirt. He didn’t want to mess with the pajama pants if he was going to take them off again in a few minutes. The apartment was plenty warm. Every room but the master bedroom was dark, and he found Valerie sitting on the bed, legs under the covers, computer on her lap. A small furrow divided her brows and she scowled at the screen.
“Sorry to bother you. I just need to get blankets and a pillow for the couch,” he said in a low voice.
“Don’t.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, you don’t have to.” With a snap, she closed her laptop and set it on the nightstand before meeting his gaze. “We could share the bed.” At his hesitation, she produced a weak smile and said, “I promise not to bite.” Her wide, wary eyes belied her playful words.
“No biting?” His heart thumped as he adopted a mock frown. “In that case, I’m outta here.”
One side of her pretty mouth curled up but quickly dropped. She bit her lip and ran her fingers over the embroidery on the comforter. “I don’t have any…expectations,” she said. “But I’d rather not sleep alone.”
Oorah. He swallowed hard. “Okay. You good there on the left?”
She nodded and scooted closer to the edge of the bed as he approached, her gaze fixed on his face, as if she were actively trying not to look at his scars. Repressing a sigh, he slipped beneath the covers and leaned against the wooden headboard, leaving several inches between them on the firm mattress.
A long breath escaped Valerie’s lips and she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. “It feels weird to stop running, even if just for a few hours. Mostly good, but strange.”
Unable to resist, Scott took her hand and intertwined their fingers. Her hand was small and cool, her touch magnetic.
“Now that we’re here, I can’t figure out how to relax,” she said. “I’m exhausted beyond belief and simultaneously wired. I keep expecting one of Hollowell’s men to break down the door and…” A tremor ran through her.
“Hey,” he said, moving closer and releasing her hand to put his arm around her instead. “We’re safe here. Dan has a top-notch alarm system and only three other people know where we are.” He caressed her shoulder with his thumb. “I trust all of them with my life.”
“I trusted Alan with mine. And yours.”
“If it makes you feel better, we can leave. Go somewhere no one knows about.”
She shook her head. “Thank you for offering.” She reached up and squeezed his hand. “That means a lot, but I don’t think we’ll find a better set-up than this. I trust your friends more than some hotel desk clerk or whatever.”
Relief rode a wave through his veins. He would leave if she asked, but he had no idea where they’d go at this hour.
She shifted slightly, snuggling into his side. His stomach dipped at the contact, and he had to force himself not to lean closer for a kiss. Despite their embrace, her shoulders were still rigid and she chewed on her thumbnail.
“I feel like I should be doing more to help get us out of this.”
He pointed to her laptop. “What’d you find?”
“Nothing yet.” She rubbed her face. “I can’t get access to Duncan’s key files. He must store them off the network or on another computer. I sent bait to several people in the IT department, but they’re well trained. And it’ll be hours before anyone else checks their email.”
“Now that we’re in D.C., we need to come up with a plan of attack,” he said, toying with a strand of her hair. He missed her natural color. “But not tonight.”
“Message received,” she said, looking at him, her amber brown eyes glowing almost gold in the lamplight. “We need to rest.”
“Exactly.” Their noses were only a few inches apart, and the need to kiss her started a war between his brain and his body. “We both know how to push through, but we’ve been running on fumes for days now. If we’re going to bring down Hollowell, we’ll need every advantage.”
She nodded and licked her lips, her gaze flicking to his mouth and then back to his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.
Fuck it.
He leaned in to kiss her.
She leaned away. “Wait.”
What the hell? He stared at her, watching the blush creep up her neck and across her face.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” she said.
“Right.” She’d seen his scars, and that changed everything. He rubbed his left hip and noticed a slight twinge of pain returning to his thigh. Heat suffused his face—what a moron he’d been, thinking she would welcome his kisses now—and he rolled away from her to turn off the lamp on his side of the bed.
“Scott.” Her hand landed on his arm.
He flinched but didn’t pull away. “What?” he asked, sounding more pissed off than he intended, watching her in his peripheral vision. She didn’t deserve attitude.
She crawled away from the headboard and sat cross-legged near his knees, facing him. With a deep breath, she said, “I have a scar too.”