MORE FROM KARYN LAWRENCE
– Book One in The Command Series
A gunshot rings out and interrupts Laurel Hayward’s first steps on stage as a professional dancer, and witnessing an assassination is just the beginning of her horrific night. The ruthless killer is determined to either have her or to silence her, landing Laurel in the protective custody of Deputy U.S. Marshal Jason Dunn.
His cocky, indifferent attitude gets under her skin, but worse yet, there’s undeniable attraction. Jason can claim he’s not interested in her all he wants but once he’s got her tucked away in a safe house his actions say otherwise.
She needs his help to stay alive and he needs her to catch the killer that has eluded him for years. Forced together and on the run, the attraction flares out of control and develops into more just as the obsessed killer comes for Laurel...and threatens to destroy everything.
- EXCERPT -
Laurel pulled the shirt over her head and cast it on the bed, and her fingers went to undo the button of her pants when Derrick’s loud voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Jason, get her secure now!”
What? There was a deep thump next door, like feet hitting the ground. Furious footsteps approached and her door burst open. A shirtless Jason stormed in, gun at his side and his face full of danger.
She was too startled to do anything. Jason grabbed her around the waist and pulled her with him as he went towards the closet. He threw open the door to the small, empty space and yanked at the corner of the carpet. It was a false floor hiding a ladder that led down into darkness.
“Go!” he said in an urgent, hushed voice. She didn't question and descended the ladder as fast as her nervous hands would allow. He came down right after, cutting off any light to the room as he pulled the trap door closed.
It was pitch black where they were. The concrete floor was cold under her bare feet, but she didn't dare move. There was a small click as he turned on a flashlight, illuminating the space immediately around them.
They were standing in an unfinished basement, pipes and ducts snaked across the ceiling. In the center of the room was a staircase that led up to . . . nothing. She guessed it was where the oddly placed linen closet was, converted to conceal the location of this basement. She'd never have known it was here.
He didn’t say a thing to her. Didn’t look at her. He moved to a wall with a monitor and switched it on. Black-and-white images glowed on screen and cycled through. The front porch, the backyard, the living room.
She took a deep breath when she saw Derrick flattened against a wall, wearing a bulletproof vest and cradling a shotgun. The cameras repeated their sequence, but she didn't see anything to explain what had set them on high alert.
Jason produced his phone from a pocket and brought it up to his ear. “Where's the car now?” He listened to the other side's answer as he rechecked the monitor. “No, I don't have a view of it.”
Laurel couldn't take her eyes off him, backlit by the television while her heart banged out a furious tempo.
“Got it.” He ended the call and finally turned his attention to her. “We've got a car that's done two drive-by's of the house in the last twenty minutes. It's gone now and we've got someone on it. But we're going to stay put, in case.”
“Is it him?” she asked.
“No.”
Relief faded because she now had to face the reality she was locked in the dark with Jason and neither one of them had a shirt on. In fact, his jeans weren’t zipped or buttoned. He must have been asleep and yanked them on when he’d heard Derrick’s command.
Jason set his gun down on top of the monitor, making the picture bounce. The danger outside was gone, but what about the danger of their situation now? Her breathing hadn’t slowed from its rapid pace and she was restless. She had on one of her skimpiest bras because Caroline hadn’t given her many options when the marshal had packed for her. Laurel might as well have been topless.
Her face heated when his eyes subtly drifted down. She didn’t mind him looking, and he was a man, after all. They seemed to be incapable of not looking. But she grew cold and crossed her arms over her chest to hold in a shiver.
He did up his fly, and she stared at the muscles in his strong arms. If he got to look, so did she. His defined abs disappeared beneath the boxers peeking out above the waistband of his jeans. There was a tattoo on one bicep—a military insignia she couldn't place. Like fast food and alcohol, visible tattoos were generally not accepted in the ballet community. Taboo.
It only made him hotter.
He took a step in her direction as he holstered his gun at his hip. He walked right up to her, only to reach into a box beside her feet and pull out a bulletproof vest.
“Put this on.”
“You think the car's coming back?” She snatched the vest from his hands and fumbled to loosen the straps.
“No, but it’s freezing down here.”
The vest didn’t add much warmth, but at least she could cover up. “What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t believe a word but wasn’t going to call him on it.
The basement was equipped with a small arsenal. It should have made her feel safe, but the large, deadly looking guns only made her nervous. Plus, he was standing before her, one hand on his hip, looking like sin in the flesh.
She felt drunk off the excitement and her lust. “I think you’re really attractive. That’s why you make me uncomfortable.”
Her words literally knocked him back. His eyes went wide and his gaze shifted away, but it wasn’t enough to get her to shut her stupid mouth.
“I thought you were going to kiss me last night.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” His voice was tight. “Nothing happened. If something had, I’d be out of a job.”
Protecting her was his job. All last night had been was him trying to help her feel safe. But what about the look he’d given her in the mirror?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Last night was . . . hard for me. You’re right, nothing happened and I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
His deep voice was hushed. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
*
Jason watched her move to the wooden stairs and sit on the second step, folding her arms.
“How long do we have to stay here?” she asked.
“Ten, maybe twenty minutes.”
She shivered. “What are we supposed to do while we wait?
He pushed the immediate thoughts away of what he'd like to do. How he'd shove her up against the wall and find out what she tasted like.
“Whatever you want, I don't care.” He could tell, even in the low light of the room, she didn't buy it.
Her panic-filled face when he'd burst into her room had him rattled, and the leftover agitation was finding other places to go. Being stuck in the dark with her was dangerous, especially when she didn’t have a shirt on and the basement was cold, and the bra she was wearing beneath the Kevlar gave almost everything away.
Then there was also her admission she found him attractive. He needed to find something to extinguish the slow burn of desire, and he needed to find it fast. But his brain failed him. He stood across from her in the darkened basement, clutching the flashlight so hard he worried it’d break.
He came to the stairs and hesitantly sat beside her, knowing it was a mistake.
She shifted, moving like the vest was uncomfortable. “It's scratchy.”
“I imagine. I usually have a shirt on when I'm wearing one.” Did he really need to remind himself she didn't have a shirt?
“Do you have to wear one a lot?”
“When I'm in the field, I do. They're annoying and decrease mobility, but, you know, helpful in stopping bullets some of the time.”
“Some of the time?” Her voice was alarmed.
This was why he shouldn't be on protection detail. He said things the witness doesn't need to hear. “The vest can fail. Or, if a shooter's too close, the impact can cause internal bleeding. It can do more damage wearing one than not wearing one.”
She looked down at the vest like she thought it might explode.
“But,” he struggled to reassure her, “that doesn't happen often. It's a small gamble with a much bigger reward.”
It fell quiet so the only noise was the furnace running in the corner.
His phone buzzed, destroying the horrible idea he’d had of putting his arm around her to offer warmth. “This is Dunn.” He turned his head to her while the phone was pressed to his ear.
Her voice was concerned. “What's going on?”
“The same car is back.”
Jason didn't believe in coincidence. The car was casing the neighborhood. The second unit had called the local PD to perform a traffic stop and they'd know a lot more in the next ten minutes.
He hung up and didn't flinch when her small, cold hand found his on the step. He let it rest there for a moment, unable to move. The horrible idea revived in him and he slid closer so he could tuck her under his arm.
He tried to convince himself there was nothing sexual about this. It was about protection, helping to make her feel safe, warm, and not alone. It only lasted until she shifted her weight to lean into him. The warm, bare skin of her arm pressed against the bare skin of his chest.
The desire for her was too much and the waiting was painstaking long. When the call finally came that they'd taken the driver in for questioning, they both remained frozen.
“It's safe now to go upstairs,” he said.
She didn't move.
Sometime before he'd drifted off to sleep last night, he'd decided what this was between them. Lust. He certainly didn't believe in love at first sight, but lust at first sight? That was definite. And labeling this as such gave him the belief he could overcome it.
Now he wasn't so sure.
He forgot everything else around them. All he wanted was to put his hands and lips on her. Their gazes connected, and for just one single moment . . . he let what he was feeling show through. How he wanted to act on his desire.
The next thing he knew, she was climbing on top of him. Her fingers wove through his hair and pulled his face to hers, where her mouth was hot and desperate. His body took command, locking his arms around her so he could pull her tight to him and deepen the kiss. It made him want to peel the straps back on the Kevlar so he could have his skin on hers.
The war between his body and mind was brutal. She sighed against his mouth like she was aching for him. But his job was everything, and no matter how badly he wanted her, the woman on top of him threatened to destroy it.
His hands clasped around her waist and lifted her with him as he rose from the stairs. A groan escaped when her legs folded around him. He broke off the kiss, set her back on her feet and stepped away as soon as he was certain she wouldn't fall over from shock.
“It was the adrenaline,” he tried to explain. “That's all.”
She seemed dizzy. “Wait, what?”
He stared at her kiss-swollen mouth and got angry. Angry at the situation and angry at himself for allowing it, because it made his need stronger.
“That can't happen again.” Was he telling her or himself?
She looked away as if guilty. “I’m sorry, it won’t—”
“You’re upset about your situation and it’s easy to get confused when that happens.”
Her haunting eyes narrowed. “Confused?”
“My job is to keep you safe and that’s all. Don’t read into it as more.”
She didn’t seem to like that. “You kissed me back.”
Jason wasn't sure how he did it. He'd never been much of an actor, but he felt his face turn hard. “I didn't. I told you, it was just a reaction.”
“Because you have, like, no interest in me.” Her voice dripped with condescension.
He told the biggest goddamn lie of his life. “Yeah. That's right.”
He watched her mouth fall open and expected every blue word she knew to come out of it. But she said nothing. Her expression turned cold with hurt in her eyes. It was the scariest reaction he could imagine. Laurel grabbed the closest rung to the ladder and she scrambled upwards.
Shit.
He followed her up, but when she climbed out through the trap door, she let it slam right on top of his head with a painful thump.
***
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