Chapter Seventeen
A quiet knock on Emily’s door interrupted her first five minutes of alone time that day. It wasn’t even lunch time and she’d been going full bore since she’d dragged her corpse into the office a couple of hours ago. Two days had gone by since the shooting. Two days since her life had turned upside down, and she’d been trying to find her way out of a mountain of paperwork.
Two days since she’d started second-guessing every packet that came across her desk.
But when she glanced up, her day took a rapid detour away from dragging tail. Reza filled the doorway, his broad shoulders spanning the narrow passage. He leaned against the doorjamb, looking far too relaxed.
She was barely functioning, on less than four hours of sleep, this morning. For several moments, he stood in the doorway, simply watching.
“Hi.” His throat moved as he swallowed.
“Hi.” She picked up a pen in front of her as her chest tightened. Emily’s lungs had a difficult time filling. “Last time you were here, things didn’t go so well,” she said softly.
His lips curled in a faint smile. “Yeah, well, bad things can’t happen like that two visits in a row.” He frowned. “Can they?”
“No.” She glanced at her computer screen, then locked it, so she could pay attention to the big man filling up her doorway. Oh, but those shoulders… “What can I do for you?”
He looked pained. “Wisniak. How is he?”
Emily watched him carefully as she folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “He’s going to be okay.”
He took a single step into her office and closed the door behind him.
“Reza,” she breathed, his name a recognition of what they’d shared the other night. In the mid-morning light, his skin gleamed like polished copper. There was no trace of the beard that had marked his jaw the other morning. No trace of the rumpled, snoring man who’d held her in his arms when they’d both finally succumbed to sleep and a need for something more than just a casual sexual release.
The tight lines around his mouth relaxed, just a little but it was enough. Enough to spark memories of the other night curled up on his couch, kissing, touching, tasting. Experiencing something outside of the normal she’d tried to define for herself.
He crossed the small space and sat in front of her desk, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
The urge to round her desk and crawl into his lap pressed against her. She wanted, oh how she wanted… but she had to be a professional here. Her boss might not care what she did outside the office, but she shouldn’t be flaunting it right in front of him. But everything that had happened between them was twisted up now around Sloban’s death, drawing them closer to a place that neither of them was supposed to be.
There was something on his mind. Something worrying him. Something he would not say.
She came around her desk and slid into the chair next to him. Not quite in his lap where she wanted to be, but close enough. “My boss figured us out,” she whispered.
A thousand unsaid things flickered across his face but he said nothing for the longest moment. “And?”
“And he doesn’t care. So long as it stays out of the office.”
His words were rough, his voice thick. His hands settled on her shoulders. “Normally, no one would know that you spent the night at my place. The Army only goes after stuff like that when it’s tied into some other crime.” He smiled and it did not reach his dark eyes. “And neither of us killed Sloban,” he said sadly. He nudged her chin up. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
His dark eyes searched hers and she fought the urge to look away. She felt him penetrate the defenses she’d carefully erected since leaving home, probing deep behind her walls.
Breaking down her excuses and her shields until all he saw was her, naked and raw and unbound.
Slowly, his eyes warmed with emotion. “Talk to me,” he whispered.
“I just haven’t slept well since…since the shooting.” She refused to anesthetize what had happened with a clean, sterile word like “incident”. A small act of defiance.
“It’ll take some time,” he said.
“I know that. It’s my job to know that.” But she slipped into his embrace, feeling his arms slide around her. “I’ve been worried about you,” she whispered.
“I’ve been fine,” he said against her hair. “Busy.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment. She glanced up at his face to see a thousand emotions flickering back at her.
“I was wondering what you were doing tonight?” he asked.
“Why? Exciting plan for a Thursday night?”
“Because it has occurred to me that I haven’t had a chance to take you out on a real date. And I know we’ve both got a shit ton of chaos at work and all but I wanted to break away and see if you’d join me.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek. “And I wanted to see if I could make you say some more bad words.”
She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. Resting against him, her head against his heart, she laughed until tears leaked out from her eyes. “I’ve got a hail and farewell tonight,” she said. “You could meet me there?”
He met her gaze. “I’d like that.”
***
Emily didn’t want to go to the hail and farewell at Talarico’s. Not by a long shot. Her shoulders were tight, her neck stiff. She tried to act like everything was normal. Colonel Zavisca had also behaved as if there was nothing wrong, but had avoided making eye contact with her at the evening sync meeting.
She felt like a pariah even though no one had said a word about the shooting. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at the Tuscan-style restaurant overlooking Belton Lake.
Gripping her purse, she climbed out of her car and headed in to the festivities. It felt like she was walking into a funeral. Her own.
Talarico’s was busy, but then again, it was a Thursday evening and she suspected more than one group of soldiers were scattered around the wide open space. Emily didn’t feel like being sociable. It was enough that she was seen. She was planning on escaping as soon as she could. She skirted the room and headed out to the bar on the outside deck and ordered a glass of Moscato. She turned toward the lake and watched the sun sink lower in the sky, hoping Reza would hurry.
Because she didn’t feel like being alone.
“You look like you’d rather be conducting a proctology exam.”
She turned, a faint smile on her lips at the sound of Reza’s voice. “Hi.”
He was a ray of bright light in the darkness of the evening sky. His skin glistened in the fading light in stark contrast to the light blue button-down shirt he wore.
Reza was a welcome sight. An anchor that she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around and hold on to. She glanced down at the cup in his hand then back up at his face. There was a rough shadow along his jaw and her fingers twitched with the desire to run her fingers along it. His gaze was warm and his eyes rich and dark.
“I take it that’s a no on the proctology exam?” he said, his voice low and warm.
She smiled. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“How long do you have to stay?”
“Until I’m seen. I was planning on sneaking out in about forty-five minutes.” She swallowed a sip of her wine. “You made it.”
“Couldn’t leave you alone.” He cleared his throat and set his drink down. She reached for it, taking a sip. Relief washed over her as the water slid down her throat.
She braced her hip against the wall and studied him, swirling the remains of the wine in her own glass. “What are we doing, Reza?” she whispered finally.
Reza shifted and looked down at his hands. “I don’t know.” An honest answer.
“I can live with that,” she said softly.
***
“You can?” Reza looked at her sharply, her skin cast in golden shadows in the sunset.
He’d meant to check on her once more after the morning, but the entire day had been shot all to hell busy.
Emily shrugged. She looked tired. Strained. “Yes. I can handle whatever it is we’re doing.”
He fought the urge to brush her hair from her face. “Let me know when you can sneak out of here,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Ever ridden a motorcycle?”
She shook her head. She looked at him from beneath her heavy black lashes. “That sounds terrifying.”
“You’ve already been shot at. How bad can a motorcycle be?” He swallowed a powerful surge of lust then leaned in close, his lips near her ear. “I’ll make your first ride a good one.”
Her lips parted. A slow flush ran up her cheeks. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make something so innocuous sound so erotic?”
He laughed quietly. “Years of practice.”
“Really?”
“Not really. I think your mind is just in the gutter.”
“I could use a little gutter after this week,” she said, turning back to peer into the restaurant. “It looks like they’re getting ready to start the farewells. I’ll find you when I can sneak out?”
“I’m counting on it.”
She took a step toward the dark interior then paused and turned back. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For checking on me.”
He said nothing as she walked back inside. He remained behind, enjoying the quiet. A few couples were outside on the deck talking, but by and large, Reza was alone. He watched Emily weave through the crowd to stand near one of the large bay windows.
Foster stepped outside and strolled up to lean on the wall next to Reza. “Isn’t that the head doc?” he asked by way of greeting.
“Yeah.”
“So what’s up with that?” Foster asked, taking a pull off his beer.
“Nothing. Just talking.”
“Just talking, huh? Since when?”
“Since I stopped my man-whorish ways as part of my get sober plan,” Reza said dryly. “It’s nowhere near as fun to wake up with a stranger in your bed when you’re doing it sober.”
“You live such a sad, sad life.” Foster tipped his beer at him. “Remind me to never become an alcoholic.”
“I’m not an alcoholic.” Reza held up his own drink as proof. Foster didn’t need to know it was water. “I can drink just fine.”
“Sure, tell that to the sarn’t major.”
“Yeah, well, the Sarn’t major has been riding my ass since I got into that accident up in Colorado. I kind of can’t screw up again if I want to still be in the Army next year.” The very first time he’d tried to stop drinking that hadn’t involved a deployment he’d wrecked his truck, along with several bones in his upper body. Sarn’t Major Giles and Colonel Richter had pulled in every favor possible to keep Reza from being formally reprimanded by the division commander. In truth, Reza still couldn’t believe they’d stuck their necks out for a washed-out enlisted man but they had.
He owed it to them not to screw this up. Last night was an anomaly. It had to be. He owed a lot of people for the fact that he was still a soldier.
He cradled the water, determined that he wasn’t going to drink tonight. He was waiting. Waiting for Emily to escape.
Waiting for her to slip away with him, into the darkness where he could hold her and just breathe her in. He wanted to feel her arms wrap around his chest, her legs around his hips as the bike vibrated beneath them.
He needed her. Her strength. Her steadiness.
Her arms around his waist. Just being there.
He wanted her. More, he needed to know that she was okay. He was accustomed to death and Sloban’s suicide was keeping him up at night. He needed to know that she was okay.
Because his world was a little better, knowing she was in it.
***
“You’ve really never been on a motorcycle?” he asked some time later after they’d both slipped away.
Emily looked dubiously at the bike. It was a Harley Davidson Fat Boy, black with silver and chrome detailing.
“Why is that hard for you to believe?”
“It just is,” he murmured. He reached for her, slipping his fingers into the front pocket of her pants and tugging her between his thighs where he rested against the bike. “It’ll be fun. You’ve never ridden until you’ve ridden with me.”
“I’ve ridden you before.”
He coughed and choked on a laugh. “Well played,” he said, his voice thick. He sucked on her bottom lip. Just a tiny tug. A hint of things to come. “You ready?”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m going to abscond with you to the wilds of central Texas and have my way with you in the mesquite brush.”
“That sounds awesome.”
Reza said nothing for a long moment. He’d known her a few weeks but already she seemed different. Stronger. More confident. Confidence was sexy. But the sadness hiding in the shadows of her eyes really stuck with him and made him want to hold her close and never let her go. “Let’s go.”
He released her and swung his leg over the bike. “Get on behind me and wrap your arms around my waist.” She did as she was instructed. When she clasped her hand over his heart, something caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder. “Make sure you lean with me.”
She pressed against his back, her body tensing. “Okay.” A whispered attempt to hide the fear in her voice.
Reza turned the bike over and rolled out of the gravel parking lot. Stones popped beneath his tires as he waited for the road to clear, then he pulled out and headed toward Belton Dam.
The familiar rumble of the bike beneath him was forgotten as Emily’s warmth pressed to his back. She still hadn’t relaxed against him and he wanted to feel her melt. There was something soothing about having her with him just then, something that made the horrific events of the week seem a little further away.
He turned down the steep decline toward the dam and Emily’s arms tightened around his waist. Pulling into a secluded copse of trees near the rushing water, he killed the engine. In the silence of the encroaching darkness, she finally relaxed. Her arms did not release him but her body eased against his.
He turned on the bike, sliding one arm around her waist, and tugged until she rotated around to straddle him. She looked dazed. He gave in to the earlier temptation to brush her hair from her eyes. “Rough week, huh?” he murmured.
“And it’s not even over yet.” She blinked and glanced around. They were surrounded by low-hanging trees. It was darker here, the only sound the rushing water from the dam a couple hundred yards away. “This is beautiful.”
“Figured you’d like it.”
Her thighs were draped over his and he shifted to pull her closer until she was pressed fully against him. “We always seem to end up parking somewhere in the woods,” she said, twining her arms around his neck.
“You said you wanted to live a little.” He brushed her hair away from her throat, exposing the pale line of skin, then leaned closer, pressing his lips to her pulse. It scattered beneath the caress of his lips.
“I guess I did. I never did make out in a car when I was a teenager.”
He laughed against her neck, then nipped her pulse. She gasped. “How did you spend your teenage years?” he asked, tracing his tongue over the sensitive spot he’d just bitten.
“Volunteering and debate club.” A gasp as she tightened her thighs around his hips and rubbed against him.
“Sounds like a lot of time in the library.”
A gentle laugh. “Maybe. Do you have a librarian fetish?”
“Maybe.” He nipped her earlobe.
“I can’t picture you as a teenager,” she said, tipping her neck to give him greater access.
“I was a whole lot angrier and a lot more out of control.”
Emily surprised him. She leaned back until she could meet his gaze. She cupped his face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Reza.”
There was no pity in her soft words and yet they sparked a familiar anger. “Don’t be.”
She frowned. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Brush off any concern? You’re not Superman.”
He opened his mouth then snapped it closed. “I know that.”
She brushed her thumb against his bottom lip. “I don’t think you do.”
“Ah, fictional character?”
She shifted, then, leaning back slightly. “I’m serious, Reza.”
“So am I.” He let his fingers drift up beneath her jacket. The skin at the small of her back was soft and warm. So warm.
She curled in to him, melting the ice around his heart just a little. She lay against him quietly. “I can’t stop seeing it,” she whispered finally.
He tightened his arms around her waist, but then moved to thread the fingers of one hand through her hair. He held her close, breathing in her scent. Wishing he could take away the pain of Sloban’s death for her and knowing that wish was futile.
Her fingers were limp against his neck, her breath hot.
“I want to forget.” A plaintive cry.
He lifted her face from his neck with his hands. “Time is the only thing that will make it easier,” he murmured. “You never really forget.”
Regret burned in him. A terrible truth that no matter how hard he tried would not be ignored. Reza closed his eyes and pulled her close once more and wished with everything he had that there was a way for him to erase her pain. But he knew far too well that some memories refused to die, no matter how much one attempted to bury them.
But he could help her erase the pain, if only for one moment.
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