Heart in her throat, Alyssa tried to stay focused. But every sound . . . every scent seemed magnified. As though she were walking in slow motion. As though she were walking through a take on a movie set. Waiting for someone to pounce on her. The only thing keeping terror at bay was knowing Teagan was beside her-- his grip tight on her hand.

"Stay on my left," he reminded.

Nothing will happen. Nothing will happen. Nothing will happen.

They approached the brownstone. Rapidly losing her nerve, Alyssa kept her gaze locked on Teagan. Somewhere out in the street, T-Bone lurked, keeping to the shadows, blending into the night. Waiting for two men to jump them. What if they were armed?

When she stumbled, he squeezed her hand. "Steady, Lyss." His mouth brushed her temple.

"T-" He leaned in, pretending to kiss her. "What if there's a gun?" He responded by stroking her thumb. She released a steadying breath. Okay-- somehow, they must have a plan for that.

The men allowed them to take several steps up the shadowed walkway before they struck. When it happened, it was so fast, she wasn't exactly certain of the sequence. Had they attacked? Or had Teagan struck first? The moment he sensed them emerging from the magnolia, he’d lunged, shoving her to the grassy area on the far side of the walkway. Alyssa staggered, but before she hit the ground, a set of arms caught her and dragged her around the corner of the building.

A short, powerful man who smelled intoxicating, dropped her to the ground. "Stay put," he ordered.

As fast as he'd appeared, he vaporized. She was left alone, huddled in the shadows, the metallic taste of fear in her mouth as he rounded the corner and rejoined the scuffle out front. Scrubbing the goosebumps on her arms, Alyssa crouched near the foundation, praying she wouldn't hear gunshots.

Instead, she heard grunts. Swearing-- when a swing went wild. Punches. A bottle breaking. The thud of a large body hitting the pavement. Please don't be Teagan. Pulse galloping, she resisted the urge to creep back to the corner. A loud voice-- was that T-Bone?

She nodded. Howard had one of them. It took another few minutes to zip tie him. As fast as it had started, the night went quiet for several minutes until she heard a door slam on the conversion van. The engine started.

And then the shouting started. A horn blast. A shattered window. Frozen to her spot, Alyssa held her breath. What was happening? Where was Teagan?

He'd insisted she remain hidden until someone came for her. If that someone turned out to be the blond guy from the basement . . . or a stocky man with a beard, she was supposed to run two blocks to the corner of Pine and Stockton.

The squeal of tires made her jump. Straining to hear what was happening, she frowned when she heard a noise in the brush. Close by. A squirrel? Or someone coming. Stumbling backward, she fell into the sharp, thorny branches of a rosebush, the fragrant, white blooms glowing in the darkened side yard. Teeth clenched, she swallowed a cry when the thorns slashed her arms.

"Lyss-- sweet . . . you can come out."

At the sound of his voice, relief liquefied her bones to mush. Thank God. It was over. She fell back in the dirt. "I can't. I'm sort of . . . stuck."

Teagan's hulking shadow closed in on her hiding place. "Babe-- what happened?"

"Despite your flawless planning, we didn't account for rosebushes."

* * *

"So, they both got away?" Alyssa was seated at the farm table in the kitchen, trying to put a band aid on the worst of her scratches.

Teagan grimaced. "We had the bearded guy," he corrected, his voice disgusted. "Zip-tied and in the backseat. When T-Bone rounded the van to get in the driver's seat, someone winged a rock through the backseat window. He shattered the glass, pulled the fat bastard through the door and dragged him to a waiting car."

"That's the screech I heard? A car?"

He shook his head. "Either the bearded guy hired muscle-- or his client got involved."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we're getting close," he admitted, fatigue coating each syllable. "We're making someone nervous." He watched her create a pile of sticky, mangled bandages. "Babe-- that's not gonna work."

"I can do it." Alyssa was beyond tired. And for some reason-- she was frustrated. Edgy. Annoyed. Mostly at Teagan. "And the blond guy?"

"He took off running before we even got the bearded guy to the ground." He shook his head. "I'll get my first aid kit from my duffel."

"I think I can handle putting on a band aid," she called after him.

Teagan returned with a battered kit. He glanced at her reject pile. "You sure about that?"

"It's harder with one hand." They'd twisted up and she'd ended up ripping them off in frustration. What she needed right now was a rousing argument. Something to release the pent-up frustration strumming through her.

"Let's take a look." He pulled out a chair across from her. Methodically, he examined her arms. She'd gouged the hell out of her left one, but the other was almost normal. "Lay your arm flat on the table."

Though the temptation to argue was strong, even Alyssa could admit it was stupid-- because in this mood, Teagan wouldn't engage. His evil twin had taken up residence. The thoughtful one. The patient one-- whose eyes revealed tenderness.

He cleaned the scratches with a packet that smelled like ammonia. When she drew a sharp breath, he blew on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. "There's a bunch of germs you probably didn't need," he said matter-of-factly.

Alyssa relaxed into the chair, avoiding the memory of how they'd made use of this table the previous night. "I don't mind."

Holding her arm flat, he waited for the area to dry. "Does it sting?"

"No." She closed her eyes to the compassion in his, fighting the urge to let down her guard. Fighting the urge to fall head over scraped knees in love with him.

"You must be tired." He applied a thin line of first aid cream to the angriest scratches.

The sexy voice reached out to ensnare her. It worked on her heart, making it flutter with recognition. It worked on her stomach, sending it careening to her knees. It worked on her stupid brain-- making Alyssa believe there might be a single chance he could change his mind. That he might . . . stay in Boston. That just once-- he might allow himself to fall for someone.

And the tiniest part of her heart wanted to hate him-- for making her feel hope. Because none of those things would happen. "Who the hell are you?" she muttered as she roused from her stupor.

Teagan chuckled. "I sense you're pissed at me." He cut several pieces of gauze bandage and began wrapping her arm. "But I'm having trouble figuring out what I did."

She ignored him-- aggravated by his intuitiveness. "How did the blond guy get away? You said you had three guys to their two." She should've been out there. Likely, she would've been less hurt in the fight than from her fall into the rosebushes.

"It took both of us to get the stocky guy to the ground." Teagan absently rubbed his wrist where she'd sprained it the first night. "He's gotta be former military. He definitely had some evasive moves."

"What about the guy who dragged me around the building?"

"That's T-Bone's guy, Charlie. By the time he got back, the blond guy had taken off running." After snipping several pieces of first aid tape, he sighed. "Charlie trailed him four blocks, but lost him in an alley. The skinny, little bastard has some speed."

"You don't sound as upset as I would've guessed."

His smile was weary. "The military term for tonight is SNAFU. We didn't plan for more help than what I'd seen previously. That meant T-Bone was only watching the two guys." He suppressed a yawn. "We screwed up. But, the blond guy did, too."

"How?"

"I found the cigarette butts he left under the magnolia two days ago. Mullaney's had them at the lab since yesterday. With any luck, we'll have DNA tomorrow."

Alyssa tried not to enjoy the pressure of his fingers as he secured the bandage. "That means we can find him?"

"If he has a record anywhere, Sean can get his rap sheet. Then we hunt him down," he said with a shrug, as though it were on par with a beer run. "His information should help us eliminate some of our suspects."

Annoyed with his perfection, a swell of hopelessness hit her again. She rose from the table, trying to shake the vision of Teagan with her nephew. His kindness to babies and injured women. His loving concern for her mother's fear. His willingness to do damn near anything for his best friend. His stronger willingness to walk away from her in a matter of weeks. "I'm going to bed."

Teagan followed her into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, he jerked her hand, taking her down with him. Caught off guard, Alyssa fell with him, bouncing next to him on the cushion.

"Let go." Her nerves jangled with warning.

"Not yet, Cranky." When her gaze moved to the coffee table, he cracked up.

"I'm on to your MO," he warned, his good natured tone seeming to mock her.

"My-- what?"

"Your modus operandi. Your style of attack." He smiled down into her face. "You’re a grab-whatever’s-in-reach kind of fighter. That’s gutsy. I like it," he admitted. "Could be potentially dangerous in domestic disputes, though."

"I'll remember that if I'm ever involved in one." As if. Aside from several cats, she would be growing old alone.

"I’ll let you up," he decided, "if you'll admit you’re just in the mood for a fight."

She fought for another second before sagging against him. "Yes, damn it. I’m tired and I’m cranky. I wanted to sleep two hours ago. Now that I finally can-- I’m too wound up."

"And it’s my fault?"

"Yes." Because he made her see a future. Together. "No," she admitted. Your feelings, your fault. Hands pressed to his chest, she stared up into those damned compassionate eyes and wanted to cry. "I don’t know."

"Fair enough." His expression suspiciously neutral, he helped her up.

Unsure what he'd read in her gaze, she rubbed the hurt from her burning eyes. "I’m going to bed."

"I can help with what you're feeling."

If he only knew. "No-- you really can't."

"Aftermath." He followed her into the bedroom they'd been sharing. "After a firefight-- or a raid-- or . . . hell, just about anything exciting that goes on over there, you experience an adrenaline rush." Sensing he'd captured her attention, he hesitated. "I'm pretty good at aftermath." He turned her to face him, his mouth a whisper away from hers. "Why don't we see if I can assist?"

Alyssa forced a smile. "Show me what you’ve got." She sank into his kiss, relieved he hadn't become angry over her stupid need to pick a fight. They had so little time left. She couldn't afford sulking. There would be endless weeks and months to grieve-- starting in twenty-three days.

* * *

Much later, TJ rolled to his back in the comfortable bed, his breathing tortured. His heart still pounding like he'd run a 5k with his boots on. "Babe-- I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up this pace for nineteen more days."

Alyssa opened one eye. "Is that what you say when you have a problem on your base? Or . . ." She waved a lazy hand in his direction. "Wherever it is you go."

"At my FOB," He captured her expressive hand, planting a kiss on her palm, enjoying the slow, sexy shiver that rolled through her. "That's forward operating base for you civilians-" His mouth moved to the soft skin of her wrist. "We have an expression-"

"Only one?"

Ignoring her interruption, TJ caressed the soft skin that led to her elbow. "In combat, you don't rise to the occasion. You sink to the level of your training."

Alyssa shifted up on her elbow, all signs of sleepiness gone. "Say that part again," she urged.

"Which one?" Staring at the beautiful breast that had come into view with her move, he leaned forward to trace her tightening nipple with his tongue.

She inhaled sharply. "The part about . . . rising to the occasion." She drew his head closer. One hand buried in his hair, the other wandered lower. "See what I mean?"

He smiled over the marvel in her voice. "Find something you like?"

When her hand found him, he groaned. His thoughts began their slow, lazy disintegration. TJ tried to hang onto them a moment longer. The fleeting sense of joy. Wonder. Over her delight. Her eagerness. Her just being . . . Alyssa.

Her hand worked faster and his heart speeded up, trying to keep up with the pleasure. When she pushed him back against the pillow, TJ was consumed with a hazy sense of wellbeing. Her scent imprinted on his brain. Her panting breath against his cheek. Her mouth pulling him into a soul-sucking kiss.

When she left him, he reached out, eyes closed, seeking. Needing her presence. Needing her touch. Needing the knowledge that she was still there with him. In his heart. In his blood. "Babe-"

She moved against him and he sought her hips. He wanted her, hips in his hands as she demanded everything from him. She would gaze down at him and take all of him-- unwilling to leave a scrap behind. Instead, she surprised him. When she latched onto him with her mouth, TJ nearly came off the bed.

"You need to rest," she crooned, her hot breath nearly making him come. "Lay back and let me take care of you. My big, tired bodyguard."

"I can't lay still when-" His body seized as she drew him into her mouth. He began panting, trying desperately to make it last. "Lyss-"

Her busy hands stroked him while her tongue sent him into a frenzy. Unable to help himself, he buried his hands in her hair. Sweat breaking out on his forehead, TJ groaned, unable to form coherent thoughts. As the mindless pleasure roared through him, he sat up, suddenly needing to see her. He might not be able to express himself with words-- but he could show her what she did to him. What he felt for her.

Lifting her over him, he stared into glowing, passionate eyes. How was it possible this beautiful woman continued to give him . . . everything?

Planting his hands on her hips, he guided her down on him. Her beautiful eyes widened, her mouth opening on a gasp. "T-"

Helpless to the sensations rolling through him, he moved with her, her cry scorching down his spine. With the last sane thought he could muster, TJ acknowledged he'd never experienced anything as good as this. Lunging up to meet her, he exploded in a white-lights, possibly-hit-by-a-mortar release. Endless-- until he finally collapsed against the pillow. He took her with him, not wanting to let go. There were no words in his scrambled brain. Only sensation as Alyssa collapsed on him. He loved the feeling of being anchored to her-- of falling asleep with her body curled into his. In the mornings, he would wake before her, just so he could watch her sleep. How her sleep-drugged eyes would veil with confusion before becoming startlingly awake. How he could talk to her in those moments and receive funny, lucid honesty from her unguarded brain.

As his thoughts steered in an increasingly confusing direction, TJ diligently rerouted them. Her sweet, curving smile pressed to his throat, he nearly missed her whispered I love you before she fell asleep moments later. Stroking her heated skin, his hand stilled. Love? She'd said-

Inhaling a deep breath, he tried to relax, smiling as Alyssa's slack body followed the rise and fall of his chest. Giving in, he kissed her brow, slowly sinking into the oblivion blanketing him.

* * *

Alyssa sat at her desk the following morning, frowning as she relived the previous evening. How had they managed to lose both of them? Wincing as the bandage on her arm caught on her blouse, she threw her pencil to the desk. "Focus," she muttered, forcing her gaze back to the folder on her desk-- a policy initiative to aid the city's increasing homeless population.

A moment later, Donna peered around her office door. "Psst-- are you still avoiding Paul?"

The homeless were abruptly forgotten. "He's here?" What the hell did he want with her? "Again?"

The mayor's assistant shook her head. "Not yet. He's meeting Theo in twenty minutes." She rolled her eyes. "On behalf of Congressman McQuinn."

"What's this about?" She traced her memory of the schedule. "I don't remember any meeting-"

"The mayor added it last night." Donna shrugged. "I guess McQuinn's office must have called him directly. I hate when they do that," she huffed. "Like we don't already have him triple booked?"

Alyssa smiled over her flustered look. The daily schedule basically went out the window by nine each morning. "Thanks for the advance notice."

"I just thought I'd warn you so you can disappear if you want."

Like hell. If anyone should feel embarrassed, it was him. After his pathetic attempt at an apology two years earlier-- after his honeymoon-- Paul had, thankfully, given up. They endured the occasional, awkward political functions, managing to casually stay on opposite sides of the room. Until a month ago, they'd managed two years of radio silence. Until a month ago-

"Have you seen Mr. O'Brien today?" He was somewhere in the building-- working with MaryJo. He'd definitely want to know about McQuinn and Theo.

Donna's mocha eyes were laced with regret. "I've been praying the servers would fail. I heard today might be his last day."

Alyssa rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. "Somehow, we'll all survive."

* * *

TJ was actually in the 94 conversion van parked a block away. The back window still shattered from the previous night's failed takedown, he perched on the edge of the backseat, trying to avoid embedding several glass shards in his ass.

In the driver's seat, Mullaney was barking instructions to someone on the phone. In the front seat next to him, MaryJo winced at the decibel level. "Dad-" She tapped his arm. "Keep it down. We're missing a window, remember?"

Sean glared at her. To her credit, Mojo didn't blink. "That was the lab," he finally reported. "We got a hit on the DNA. The blond guy's a low rent thug named Billy Sandoval. He's got several priors. Lots of B & E. A few robberies-- little places like convenience stores."

TJ reviewed their cast of characters. "So, where does he fit in?"

Sean shifted in his seat to face him. "Here's where it gets interesting. He's got an uncle named Harry Doucette."

MaryJo stilled. "Harry? Not Henry?" She typed the information into her laptop.

"From the Ready Brigade." TJ's gut tightened.

"Mojo-"

"Already on it, Dad." Her tone suggested he might want to back off.

"Theo couldn't remember his name." He shot a glance at Mullaney. "He was Luther's friend-"

Mullaney snorted. "Well, we can't just waltz into Burke's office and ask him for details."

"Dad-- he knows." TJ smiled. MaryJo sure as hell could hold her own.

"If Luther's involved, he can't know we're on to him." Mullaney scratched his whiskers. "And if he's not . . . then he's got a friend who is involved."

"Hang on-" TJ glanced at his phone. "It's Lyss." His stomach lurched as he answered, trying to ignore the fact that five hours earlier, she'd declared her love for him. After sex, he prefaced. In the dead of night. And she'd barely been conscious-

"Hey-- what's happening?" His pulse tripped erratically. Would she say it again? Would it become a thing? Did he want to hear it?

"The mayor's meeting with someone from McQuinn's office in twenty minutes," she reported. "Theo added it to his schedule last night."

"Must've been after we left." Checking his watch, TJ relayed the information.

"Who's there?"

"I'm with Sean and MaryJo." Her voice in his ear suggested nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing earth-shattering-- like telling someone she loved him- TJ paused. What the hell was wrong with him? "We're down the street from you."

"Can Sean listen in?"

Mullaney raised his gaze to the ceiling. "What am I-- a magician?" He pulled out his phone. "We shoulda bugged his office."

"Dad-- that's fifty kinds of illegal."

"Should I do anything?" Alyssa's voice held an eagerness he found alarming. "Maybe weasel my way into the meeting?"

"Like they're gonna discuss illegal arms sales in front of her," Sean muttered.

His brain finally working again, TJ was suddenly suspicious. "Who's coming from McQuinn's office?"

Her sigh was audible. "It's Paul."

"Stay away from him," he ordered. Glancing up, he found two sets of eyes boring into him. "Lyss-- I'll be there in ten minutes."

MaryJo's grin suggested she knew something he didn't. "I have a hunch on the blackmail pictures. Meet me in the cafeteria for lunch."

"Put that to bed today," Mullaney directed. "You-" The old man stared at him. "Stay focused."

Heat rose in his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stop worrying about Paul." He patted his shirt pocket, seeking his sunglasses. "I'm heading to Cambridge PD to read Fisgar's file." He started the engine. "Maybe catch the detective on the case. See what he remembers."

Ignoring their obvious amusement, TJ moved to the door. "I need to-- get back."

As they watched him cross the plaza, Mullaney chuckled. "He's toast."

Several hours later, TJ was still wondering what had gotten into him. He'd stormed back up to the mayor's suite to find Alyssa calmly working on some huge policy thing. Folders and notes spread across her desk. Like a jealous idiot, he'd interrupted her-- asking a hundred questions about Paul-- who wasn't even anywhere in the vicinity. To her credit-- Alyssa had put up with him, trying to hide her amusement. Until he'd been paged by one of the secretaries-- who'd sabotaged her computer. Again.

He'd stuck around long enough-- loitering at the receptionist's desk-- to monitor the man leaving Theo's office. Feigning an interest in the printer in the hallway, he'd waited for the guy to leave his badge at her desk.

"Bye, Paul. Good to see you again."

TJ had catalogued fair hair, a doughy build, camouflaged by a well-fitting Brooks Brothers suit, the boring, red power tie that probably cost more than ten shirts in his duffel. He was left with the small win of being several inches taller. And the rueful acknowledgment that he seriously needed a new suit.

Now, he punched the button on the elevator, grateful to be meeting MaryJo. Grateful to focus on something important. Grateful to stop thinking about Alyssa and that damned I love you.

Acknowledging her wave a few minutes later, TJ made his way through the crowded cafeteria. MaryJo had chosen a table in the farthest corner. As he approached, he saw that she'd already picked up a sandwich for him. "You didn't have to get my lunch."

"It's faster." She lifted her gaze from the laptop. "We have a lot to review."

The excitement in her eyes had his antenna crackling. "Spill."

"Okay-- so I have a theory." Hair mussed, her eyes alive with the hunt, she seemed oblivious to the noise in the room, the people sitting near them. "Our person has access to the mayor's office." She lowered her voice. "She doesn't raise any red flags because she's in there often. She can probably walk in and out of offices and no one even thinks about it. Which means she can plant the photos on the server-- from any office she chooses."

TJ nodded. "Someone like the cleaning lady?"

"You're getting warmer." She smiled. "Think about what we know," she suggested. "This isn't a typical blackmail." MaryJo glanced around. "There was no note. No follow-up. No demand-"

His pulse quickened, starting to catch on to her theory. "And it's been over a week since the photos were delivered."

"This is more of a . . . stunt." Her animated eyes widened. "What was the goal?"

TJ sat back in his chair. "If we assume Alyssa has . . . nothing to do with this?"

She nodded. "My hunch is it could have been anyone in that office." Her eagerness getting the better of her, she grabbed his arm. "That part didn't matter."

"Who gains if he doesn't run for-" Catching her need for caution, he hesitated. "You know."

"Narrow your focus," she urged, her voice almost a whisper. "I don't think this is political." She toggled into several screens that looked like random data. "Check out these passwords. Two levels." Her voice rose with excitement.

TJ stared at the screen, his vision blurring as the realization hit. "Holy cow."

"Who do we know who would use these?"

He turned to her, relief and nausea hitting his stomach at the same time. It was over. "I know exactly who this is."