CHAPTER TEN
San Diego, CA
Monday, 9:45 a.m.
“VALERIE?” SCOTT’S PLEASANT BARITONE CAME from the other side of the stall door. Why was he always following her into the women’s restroom?
“It was my fault,” she said, her flat voice reflecting the bone-deep fatigue that had taken over her mind and body.
“You were a kid.”
“I was fourteen.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Old enough.”
Not a single sound gave away his presence, but under the door she could see his muscular calves covered in curly blond hair, white crew socks, and worn Sauconys. “If you had gotten in the way, he might have killed you too.”
Maybe that would have been better. Better than going through life knowing she’d failed the one person who had cared about her. She rubbed her ribs. “He tried. I was a witness after all.”
Scott swore under his breath. “Valerie.” His voice was deep and serious and sad. He let out a long sigh. “I hate to do this now, but we need to go.”
That got her attention. Wallowing in ancient history only put her at risk at a time when she needed to be alert.
She opened the stall door. Scott stood next to the sink with her flowered tote bag over one shoulder and the black duffle over the other. She might have laughed if his expression weren’t so dark and her own emotions weren’t already frayed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I think someone’s watching us.”
The news was like a slap to the face. “How?”
He shook his head. “No idea, but I’ve seen the same guy twice in two different outfits.”
“You’re sure?” Not that she doubted his skills, but it was easy to get paranoid when your picture was on the front page of every newspaper. Below the fold, because a terrorist bombing in Syria had stolen the headlines, but she could hardly celebrate something so horrific.
“Same shoes, same watch,” Scott said, matter of factly. “It’s a common mistake. People change their hair, hats, glasses, shirts, but rarely think about shoes or other accessories. Once that registered, I looked more closely at his face.”
Jeez. “Do you have a photographic memory or something?”
“No, just observation training.” He waved her toward the door as she stepped up to the sink to wash her shaking hands. “Finish up, we need to move. This could be nothing, he could be watching someone else, robbing the place, who knows. But I’m not willing to take a chance.” When she was done, he handed her the flowered bag, adjusted the duffle strap across his body so his hands were free, and said, “Your laptop’s inside.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded. “Act normal. We’re not leaving in a hurry, just leaving because we’re ready.”
She took a deep breath and got her bearings, while inside she tried to beat down the nerves running roughshod through her veins. “You mean normal like you being in the women’s bathroom? Again.”
His lips twitched. “Apparently, that’s how we roll.”
Following him through the doorway, she said, “I’m sorry I ran out.”
“Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You were trying to help. I appreciate that.”
He nodded without meeting her gaze—probably because, hello, they had more important things to worry about—and surveyed the small anteroom that housed a drinking fountain and community bulletin board. He did the same for the café and bookstore beyond. “Let’s go.”
She knew better than to look around too much. Still, she couldn’t help but scan for the shoes. It would be better if Nike Man didn’t know Scott had spotted him, though he’d surely be suspicious at the timing of their departure. And they still needed to playact for the rest of the crowd. The last thing they wanted was a bunch of people taking notice and calling the police.
Scott took her hand—something she was getting dangerously used to—and they strolled through the stacks of books. She inhaled the soothing scent of binding glue and paper. It brought back memories of long summers in grade school spent reading in the back seat of Papá’s car while he sat surveillance on a target company or person. Once, those had been good memories.
They passed the bins of impulse-buy crap near the registers and sauntered out the front door into the fog-tempered sunlight. Salty, cool air filled her nostrils, seagulls swooped and squawked overhead, and for one desperate, futile moment she tried to convince herself that they were just a happy couple out shopping. Be the lie, her papá always said. Own it.
The breeze brought goosebumps to her bare arms as they reached the white van, with its already-fading window paint and weathered stickers. “We’re definitely going to have to ditch this now.”
“After we lose this guy.” He knelt down and looked under the rear bumper, running his hands along the grimy metal. “Keep an eye out, will you?” he asked, moving his inspection along the perimeter of the van. “I want to make sure we didn’t pick up a tracker.”
Or worse? She shivered. “Do you think he was FBI undercover, checking out a tip or something?” she asked. If they hadn’t been followed, how else would someone have found them?
“Maybe.” He stood and rubbed his hands together and wiped the gravel from his knees. Then he unlocked the door and splashed water from a plastic bottle over his hands, flicking it from his fingertips before using his shorts as a makeshift towel. “I don’t think Hollowell’s network is big enough to track us.”
He gestured her to get in the van. “Did you see anyone follow us out of the store?”
“No, but he could be watching through a window,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel. “What if there’s someone else out here, ready to tail us?”
“I can handle it.” He sent a glance her way. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
Even if she didn’t, what choice did she have? She knew the basics of counter-surveillance, but she was no expert. If she had to go on the run with someone, she couldn’t ask for a better partner than Scott.
She was more grateful than she could express to be with him.
They spoke little on the drive, and she tried not to be distracted from her task of watching for tails while taking in the splendor of San Diego.
“That’s Mission Bay Park,” Scott said as they passed a waterlogged area of green grass and palm trees, bridges, and sailboats, the narrow inlet glittering like a sequined dress in the strengthening sunlight.
She had vague memories of her first view of the ocean a decade ago when her uncle Hector had picked her up at the San Diego airport and driven her up 5, taking 99 through Bakersfield and on to Four Creeks. Still reeling from her dad’s death and Papá’s going to jail, she didn’t mind that Hector barely spoke English, because he mostly left her alone.
Despite Spanish being the first language for both of her parents, she’d never learned it from them. Dad had wanted her to be as American as possible and only spoke Spanish at home when he was really upset. Papá didn’t fully agree—and he slipped a few times—but mostly he went along to keep the peace.
After living with the Ramirez family for four years, Valerie had learned enough Spanish to get by, but the language barrier had been one more strike against her in her aunt and uncle’s house. Her cousins—three older boys who worked in the fields with their parents from sunup to sundown—called her a coconut, brown on the outside, white on the inside.
Kids at school often used the slur pocho when they bothered to acknowledge her presence. Her only “friend,” if you could call her that, had been the school’s computer instructor, who was in awe—and maybe a little scared—of Valerie’s skills.
Everyone was happy when she left for college.
“You seem to know San Diego pretty well,” she said when Scott turned into a parking spot in lush Balboa Park.
“I was here for boot camp and SOI.” He glanced at her. “School of Infantry. I had some leave in between and a few days off here and there during SOI.”
“It’s so beautiful here. I always meant to come back to visit…” Under different circumstances.
Scott nodded. “I’d never seen the ocean until I landed here. Spent every spare minute I had on the beach after boot camp ended.” A rare grin lit his face. “I even started surfing, but I’m pretty awful.”
She smiled, imagining him in board shorts, sunburned, all gleaming, wet muscles as he paddled out into the swells.
The moment didn’t last long. “Grab whatever you need,” he said. “We might not be able to return to the van.”
They divvied up the money between her flowered bag and his backpack, thinking the duffle would draw too much attention. She had filled the remaining space with clothing, toiletries, and her computer. His bag held the same but instead of a computer, he had a large digital camera.
“For surveillance,” he said. But something about his expression and the way he held the camera made her think it was more important to him than just a tool of the trade.
“Oh, and here,” he said, tossing her a dark gray Billabong hoodie with the logo on the front. “To keep you warm.”
Her heart warmed. He must have noticed her goosebumps earlier. It doesn’t mean he cares. The man noticed everything, after all.
“Thanks.” She donned the thick sweatshirt. Not only did it block the cool breeze, but it smelled of Scott, warm and faintly spicy. She resisted the urge to bury her face in the soft cotton.
He left the van unlocked with the keys above the visor, and they walked the paths of Balboa Park’s many gardens, scouting the area before their meeting with Alan.
“I’m sorry about earlier, at the bookstore,” Scott said. “I should know better.”
She slowed without realizing it, and his grip on her hand tightened. Catching up to his stride again, she took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize. That was half my life ago. I should have figured out how to move on.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.”
Something in his voice made her look at him, his strong jaw tight, pale eyebrows drawn over dark sunglasses as he mentally recorded everything around them like a human version of the Google car with all of its cameras and sensors. What had he suffered? She knew so little about him, but she didn’t dare ask.
They strolled for the next hour, munching on snacks from a vending machine as they moved in ever-narrowing rings toward the Botanical Building. The huge wooden-slat structure stood at the end of a reflecting pool in a grove of palm and eucalyptus trees that tinged the air with an earthy fragrance. Two half-pipe shaped wings jutted out from a central dome with a stucco base and arched doorways leading inside.
The air inside was moist and slightly warmer, the breeze buffered by yard upon yard of ferns, palms, orchids, flowering vines, and so much soothing green. Delicate floral scents mingled with that of damp earth and the nearby sea in an intoxicating perfume that made her breathe deep.
“It’s heaven,” she whispered, out of awe more than any need for privacy, overcome by the urge to never leave this spot.
“Yeah, but kind of a nightmare for our meeting,” Scott said, shattering her moment. “Plenty of concealment for us, but also for everyone else.”
They took a quick circuit of the interior before stationing themselves part of the way down a side path with a view of the entrance. Sunlight streamed in through the narrow boards, painting bright stripes across the cement floor, cutting across Scott’s face and turning the golden streaks in his hair to flame.
“Will you recognize this guy?” he asked.
A little breathless, she said, “Probably, but it’s been about ten years since I last saw him at my high school graduation.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s thirty-four, maybe six-two, trim build, black hair—it used to be long, about shoulder length—blue eyes, fair skin.”
“He’s that young?” he asked. “I thought he was a friend of your dad’s.”
She shrugged. “They met online. Age is meaningless. It’s only skill and tenacity that matter. And discretion.”
Several minutes later, his eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Is that him?”
A man dressed in jeans and a slim-cut green sweater strode through the archway and stopped beneath the shade of a paddle-shaped palm to remove his dark sunglasses. He wore his black hair short and lightly mussed like a movie star, and several days’ worth of stubble darkened his jawline.
“I don’t think so. Too muscular.”
But then he fully faced them and Valerie gasped. “Alan?”
The man couldn’t have heard her, but he stepped forward anyway with a wide grin that sent a little thrill through her. As a teenager, she’d had a bit of a crush on him, even though he’d seemed far more than six years her senior. Time had been exceedingly kind. He was every bit as good-looking as she remembered and then some.
Scott’s grip on her hand tightened, and his body stiffened as Alan approached, the epitome of casual, but still alert.
“Valerie,” Alan said as he pulled her into a hug, tugging her free of Scott’s hold. “Are you okay?”
She nodded against his chest. His scent was as familiar as his appearance was foreign. After her papá went to prison, Alan had been the only person from her past who had stayed in touch. When he cut ties after she graduated from high school, he had sliced out a piece of her heart.
Behind her, Scott cleared his throat.
Valerie stepped out of her old friend’s embrace and looked up into his dark blue eyes. “You weren’t followed, right?”
He smirked and brushed her shoulder as he reached for a piece of her long ponytail, twisting the strands lightly between his fingertips before dropping it. “You’re rockin’ the new color, Sweet Stuff.” Glancing at Scott, his smile dropped as he said, “And no, I wasn’t followed.”
“Why don’t we find somewhere a little less crowded to talk,” Scott suggested, his expression impassive even as something—disapproval?—radiated off him.
He ignored her questioning look and gestured toward the back of the building. They moved down a deserted path and stopped under a vine-filled trellis at the end.
“Alan,” the hacker said, sticking out his hand when they were all facing each other. “Scott, right?”
Scott scowled and glanced around, but returned the handshake.
Alan focused on Valerie. “So, how can I help?”
Scott desperately needed sleep, but even as he slouched in the backseat of Alan’s Acura thirty minutes later, he couldn’t let himself relax enough to doze off.
Up front, Alan and Valerie were catching up on old times, filling in the last decade, and generally having a grand old time while Scott fought against feeling like ammo without a gun.
And, if he were honest…jealous.
No one could miss the way Valerie looked at Alan. He was everything Scott wasn’t. Tall, broad-shouldered, well dressed, a techie like her, and very “hands on.” At every opportunity, he touched her shoulder, her arm, her hand, her hair.
Plus, she had a history with the guy. A relationship of trust.
Hell, he hadn’t even questioned her story about Hollowell framing the two of them. Just took her at her word without blinking.
And, unlike Scott, Alan wasn’t a killer.
“I can drive you as far as Texas,” Alan had said after consulting a map on his iPhone. “But I have to be back for a face-to-face with a client on Friday. The guy doesn’t do holidays.”
Valerie gave Alan an enthusiastic hug that made Scott’s chest burn. Not that Scott had any right to be jealous. He’d already decided he couldn’t risk getting intimate with her. Well, not again, anyway. There was too much at stake for that kind of distraction—the awkward tension between them was already off the charts—and he didn’t want hurt feelings when they parted ways.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to watch her go gaga over Mr. Tall, Dark, and Debonair.
Sleep would help pass the time, but he didn’t share Valerie’s blind trust of the man behind the wheel. The scenery through tinted windows turned increasingly barren. His brain didn’t have much more to offer when it came to ideas for cornering Hollowell.
Without some kind of evidence that Hollowell was involved, or something with which to extort Valerie’s old boss, Scott didn’t see any way out of this life on the run. For that, he needed Valerie’s and Alan’s expertise. Unless he could beat a confession out of the man.
Not freaking likely.
Scott’s mind went in circles, conjuring and discarding ideas, coming up with very little. But stopping meant his mind wandered to his mom. What was she thinking right now? Was she safe? Had she received his telegram?
Did she believe he was innocent?
That mattered more than it should have.
Some time later, he woke in that instant way he’d developed in Afghanistan, no groggy transition from dreams to confusion to final awareness. He might not know where exactly he was in the world—somewhere with low shrubs, some cactus, fields of cotton, and little else—but he knew immediately that he was in the backseat of Alan’s car and that it was late afternoon.
Valerie snoozed in the front seat, her head resting on Scott’s balled-up sweatshirt against the side window. Country music played faintly in the background.
Scott rubbed his face and glanced at his watch. Sixteen hundred. How could he have fallen asleep?
He caught Alan’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and the man’s eyes crinkled as if he were smiling.
“Where are we?” Scott asked, mostly managing to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“About thirty minutes east of Yuma,” the driver replied, his voice low, presumably in deference to Valerie’s slumbering state. “We’ve been on the road about three hours.”
The Marines had an air station in Yuma, but Scott had never been there. “You need a break? I can drive.” Riding in back made him feel like a ten-year-old.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Not that he could blame the guy. Scott might let Valerie take the wheel, but he’d never give up control to Alan if their positions were reversed.
They sat in silence for several minutes before Alan said, “I only have her best interests at heart, you know.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I understand if you don’t trust me.”
Was the guy reading his mind? Scott shrugged—a gesture probably lost in the rearview mirror. “I don’t have much choice now, do I? Besides, Valerie trusts you. That’s enough for now.”
“You could go your own way. ”
You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you, asshole? Scott’s jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. “Oh, yeah? And who’s going to protect her after you drop her in Fort Worth?” And before?
“I have friends who can help.”
Was that a threat or a brag? “I think it’s better to minimize the number of people who know where she is, don’t you?”
Alan was silent for a moment. “My friends are experts at keeping secrets.”
“And unearthing them.”
The man’s dark head tilted. “True. But these people would do anything for DarkHand’s daughter.”
“Out of respect for a man who swindled banks out of millions?” Scott didn’t even try to hide his disgust.
Alan blew out a long breath. “Look, Valerie and her dad were legends. As a team, they breached some of the toughest networks out there at the time, and her dad wrote the early versions of some of the most popular tools still in use. We respect that.”
“So that’s why you’re here.”
“Dude, you can quit busting my balls, okay?” Alan glanced back, spots of color high on his cheeks, mouth a tight line. Returning his focus to the road, he said, “I don’t know what your deal is, but I’ve known Valerie since she was eleven. I’m the one who looked out for her—kept track of her—after she went to live with her aunt and uncle, fourteen years ago. Your involvement in her life is a fucking blip compared to mine.” By the end of his little speech, the guy was practically growling. “You have no right to question my intentions.”
“You’re right.” Scott relaxed a little. Alan seemed to genuinely care about Valerie, which was all that mattered. “But I’m still not leaving.”
Alan made a noncommittal noise.
“She and I share a common enemy. I think it will take both our skill sets to defeat him.” Valerie was visible in the passenger side mirror, her beautiful, relaxed face bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, lips parted as if in invitation. He tore his gaze away, watching the passing ocotillo wave their long, prickly arms in the breeze. “I’m not looking for more than that.”
He would absolutely walk away once their names were cleared. Until then he needed to ignore the things she stirred in him.
Valerie straightened and wiped her mouth, stretching her neck side to side and rolling her shoulders, coming awake by degrees. “What are you looking for?” she asked, her voice thick.
Alan met Scott’s gaze in the mirror and an unspoken agreement passed between them. “Bathroom break, maybe a snack.”
“Sounds good to me.” She turned in her seat to look at Scott with a familiar smile that made him want to crawl over the center console and claim her with a hard kiss. “You okay back there? I can switch after we stop, if you want.”
Join me. Scott shook his head. “I’m fine,” he managed to get out between gritted teeth.
They stopped overnight in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Alan got a room at a cheap motel off the freeway that was about a hundred steps up from the crappy place Valerie and Scott had stayed in Zachari…yesterday?
Had it really only been last night?
“I’ll take the couch,” Scott said now, his solemn blue eyes taking in the two double beds in the beige room peppered with red accents.
He’d been even quieter than usual since Alan joined their group, but she appreciated the buffer that her old friend created between them. It was easier to ignore her inconvenient attraction to Scott when he wasn’t the only one in the room.
But Alan’s real help was in making them anonymous. Not only had he provided them with transportation, he could rent hotel rooms and buy food without raising suspicion.
And she’d missed him.
She hadn’t realized just how much until she saw him again. He was like the big brother she’d desperately wanted any one of her cousins to be. She’d missed the way he draped his arm across her shoulders, lightly “punched” her arm when she teased him, covered her hand with his own when she got emotional. She’d missed being touched.
Jesus, she was so pathetic, but she hadn’t realized how starved for a physical connection she was. Not necessarily romantic, just…human.
Maybe that’s what she’d been craving from Scott. Maybe she’d mistaken her need for a hug for desire.
And maybe she was a fifty-pound frog.
“The couch would be more comfortable for me than you,” she said, moving closer to Alan, whose strong aftershave obliterated Scott’s enticing scent. “I’m shorter.”
Scott shook his head, his face maddeningly expressionless. “Take the bed. You need to sleep.”
“And you don’t?” She put her hands on her hips.
Tossing his backpack onto the scarlet cushions, he said, “I can sleep anywhere.”
How about with me?
After his time in the Middle East, he probably could sleep under any conditions, but would he even try here? He and Alan had been cordial, but there was no mistaking the tension between them. She guessed Scott was not happy about giving up control, and had yet to decide if he could trust the other man. Then again, he understood the potential advantages of a third person or he would have left already.
A cool chill swept through her. The last thing she wanted was to push him away.
“Okay, then.” Dropping her bag onto the bed furthest from the door—and closest to the sofa—she said, “Thank you.”
Looking up, she caught Alan watching her, a wary expression on his face. “You two done?”
She ignored his jab and merely nodded.
“I’m going to get a pop,” Scott said, striding toward the door. “You guys want anything?”
Alan shook his head.
“Would you get me a bag of Skittles?” she asked. She needed fuel.
As soon as the door fell shut, Alan said, “What’s up with him?”
She shrugged and removed her toothbrush and toothpaste from her bag.
“And who says ‘pop?’” he asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
Offering up a light laugh, she said, “No idea.”
Alan moved up behind her, quiet as a cat, and toyed with a piece of her hair. “How are you holding up?”
Turning, she settled into his open arms and let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I guess. All things considered.” What choice did she have? “Falling apart isn’t really an option.”
He rubbed her upper back. “You’ll beat this, Valerie. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
She looked up at his handsome face. Why hadn’t some girl scooped him up yet? Or maybe one had. She knew so little about his life now. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Not just for today, for everything. You’ve been the one good thing in my life since my dads… I hated that we had to cut ties.”
“Me too. You and Filiberto were almost like family to me. Better than my own. In real life, I was a skinny math nerd with secondhand clothes who got bullied by the punks on my bus. Other than the one guy who took an interest in me and showed me my first online game, my home was a revolving door of men who treated my mom like shit. But online, I was part of a community. I could be anyone. And then I met your papá and he showed me where the real power was.”
“It’s addictive,” she said. Her dad had sucked her into that world too, and she’d found the anonymity and ability to create any persona far more thrilling than the analog world. “You’re finally with your tribe, and you feel so smart, so superior, like an intellectual gladiator.”
Alan nodded. “But your father got cocky and sloppy. I knew he was in for a fall—though I didn’t expect anything worse than jail time for him—and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Once you went away to college, I figured you were better off without me in your life.” Alan pulled her in tight. “I should have tried harder to keep you out of the hacker world, both when you were still a kid, and after you dropped out of school. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I sh—” The lock whirred and the door opened with a loud thunk.
Valerie shot backward out of his arms and looked to her right. Only Scott’s leg was visible as he strode away. The heavy, metal door slammed shut, leaving her alone with Alan again. “What the hell?”
He jerked his head toward the door. “You should go talk to him.” His eyebrows rose meaningfully.
She could feel the heat rising into her cheeks. “There’s nothing… We’re not…”
“Okay, whatever, but you need him. Go,” he said, gently pushing her forward. “I’ll set up a secure connection and start digging around.”
Outside, the few working lights did little to dispel the shadows that clung to the squat two-story motel. At the end of the cracked pavement she caught a glimpse of Scott rounding the corner to the far side of the building that butted up against a deserted industrial complex with roll-up doors.
Afraid of drawing any attention from the rooms along the exposed corridor, she jogged on her toes, following him around the bend without calling out. He was waiting for her, and she had to pull up short to keep from crashing into him.
She stifled a yelp and placed a hand on the cool stucco wall for support. “Where are you going?” Goose bumps raced across her skin. After two weeks on the coast of California, she’d forgotten the rest of the country was experiencing winter.
He studied her, his face half in shadow, expression unreadable, and took a long swig of Dr. Pepper from a can before answering. “Giving you and Alan some privacy.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, crossing her arms so she wouldn’t rub them. The sweatshirt Scott had loaned her was no longer enough to keep her warm. Her pulse pounded in her neck, insistent and almost painful, a mismatch to the faint beat of country music that floated from the tiny bar at the front of the motel. “He’s just a friend.”
“Okay.” Scott tipped the can to his lips, his gaze never leaving her face.
“He’s like the big brother I never had,” she said. “There’s nothing romantic between us. I was just thanking him for helping me. And you.”
“Great.” Scott continued to stare, his blue eyes colorless under the yellow parking lot lights, but no less intense.
Heat rushed through her veins, driving away the chill. “Why don’t you believe me?”
His stoic facade cracked, a hairline fracture, but a breakthrough nonetheless. “What do you want from me, Valerie?”
“For once, I’d like to know what you’re really thinking.” The words poured out of her, hot and messy and irresponsible. “I can’t read you at all. I’m sure you like it that way, but it’s so damned maddening.” She barely had the wherewithal to keep her voice from rising. “I can’t tell if you trust me or think every word out of my mouth is a lie. I don’t even know if you actually like me, or if you’re just here because you need my help to clear your name.”
Moving close, he crumpled the can and dropped it, and then raised both arms to cage her against the rough wall. “I like you.” He practically growled the words, his face just inches from hers and hidden in the shadows. “But I don’t do relationships.”
“I’m pretty sure we have a relationship of some kind.”
He let out an impatient breath that caressed her cheek.
“But I understand,” she said, feeling bold and a bit reckless, drugged by his nearness. “You mean we don’t have the kind where I’d do this.” She arched and rubbed her breasts slowly across his chest, creating a delicious friction that made her head spin.
He kissed her hard, scrambling her thoughts, stealing her breath. His mouth was warm and he tasted like syrup. She lapped him up.
And then he was gone, taking his heat and his soft lips with him. When she opened her eyes, he had rolled away next to her with his back against the wall, hands fisted at his sides. “I can’t.”
She frowned as his words slipped past her lustful stupor. “Why not?” Her stomach went into a freefall. “Wait, do you have a girlfriend…or a wife?” Seemed like that would have come up sooner, but who knew?
“No.” Back to Mr. Stoic, despite their recent full body contact, he said, “I told you, I don’t…get involved.”
She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. He was actually the kind of guy who gave that speech and meant it. “You’re seriously overthinking this. We like each other, we’re sticking together for now, and our lives are shit. Where’s the harm in finding a little joy in that scenario?” If she wanted to spin stupid fantasies about happily-ever-afters and sunsets, that was her problem. She’d been disappointed before. She knew how to deal.
“It may have slipped your mind,” he said, his voice pitched low as he watched her, wary, “but I’m a killer, Valerie.”
Something in the way he said it gave her pause. I’m a killer. Was that really how he saw himself?
She swallowed to ease her dry throat. “Technically, maybe, but it’s not like you’re some kind of hired assassin.” She burrowed into his oversized sweatshirt to ward off a chill. “You protect people.”
He scanned their surroundings. “You can pretty it up, but it doesn’t change anything.” His jaw clenched tight and he gave a sharp head shake.
She pushed away from the wall so she could face him. “Look, I’m not getting on my knees to beg for sex or anything, but…”
His body stilled. A classic reaction when trying to hide a response.
Interesting. Was that what he wanted? Her on her knees?
A delicious heat curled through her as she took a step closer, energized by the revelation of her feminine power. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.” He crossed his arms.
Lord only knew where this side of her was coming from. She could do almost anything for a role, but she wasn’t acting this time. Maybe it was that she had nothing to lose. Or, maybe she was tired of reacting to events, tired of feeling like she had no control over what happened next in her life.
She wanted to take charge of something.
She wanted Scott.
Dropping to her knees, she looked up and caught his startled expression.
“Valerie.” He grumbled the dark warning.
But he didn’t move, didn’t leave. He gripped his waistband, but didn’t push her away as she unbuttoned his shorts and lowered the zipper. She tugged his boxers down just enough to free his thick erection.
No, he definitely wasn’t immune to her. She smiled.
“I’m not begging,” she said and stroked his hot skin, curling her fingers around his steely length.
His entire body went taut, and his breathing stopped.
The hard cement made her knees ache, the cold air seeped through her jeans, someone could discover them at any moment… She couldn’t care less. Until now, she had never craved the taste of a man.
A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest when she took him into her mouth, sucking him from base to tip, reveling in the feel of him against her tongue. Triumph raced through her at the urgent plea of his hand on her shoulder, his fingers suddenly tangled in her ponytail.
She caressed his balls through the fabric of his shorts with one hand and kneaded his buttocks with the other. His hips pumped, seeking more, his increasingly harsh breaths mingling with the occasional sounds of a car or truck passing on the freeway.
He never threw back his head or closed his eyes, never completely stopped scanning for potential threats, but he grimaced and bit his lower lip and furrowed his pale brow. She’d never seen him so emotionally laid bare.
Something unfurled inside her, making her heart flutter and sing.
“Val—” His breath caught. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he shoved against her shoulder.
She held tight to his backside and gave her head a small shake, making a noise of protest deep in her throat. She wanted all of him.
He came then, hips jerking as his breath shuddered from his lips in silent surrender.