[English] HOT SECRETS (Bí Mật nóng bỏng)

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“We can go get your clothes tonight on the way home.”

“Home?” she asked.

“I’ve got you with me,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her. “Don’t expect me to let you go.”

She wiped his mouth. “Pink isn’t your color.”

He smiled and kissed her again. “Text me when you get to your office so I know you’re safe.”

She nodded and reached for the door. “Be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

She smiled. “Funny. I thought it was Luke’s.” She pushed open the door and slung her briefcase over her shoulder, before heading the short distance to the glass door before disappearing inside.

He dialed Kyle. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m about to follow her onto the elevator. She’ll be fine.” He hung up, no doubt already inside the car with Lauren.

Royce dropped his phone on the seat, his gut tight. Damn, this was killing him. He was going to enjoy tracking down this bastard. His first target, the ‘dude’ who’d been nasty to Lauren the day before. Whether he was guilty of being a jerk or guilty of more, he’d know not to bother Lauren again when Royce was done with him.

Fifteen minutes later, Royce pulled into an apartment in the east side, poverty stricken section of Brooklyn and made his way to the door 4B. He knocked, and mumbled under his breath, “Come on, you son of a bitch. Answer.”

The door swung revealing a man wearing jeans and nothing more. “Yeah?”

A standoff ensued. They stared at each other, sizing each other up. ****iness, bred from Special Forces training, oozed from his opponent. The man was a deadly weapon, but then, so was he. “Jonathan Wilkins?”

“You’re looking at him,” Wilkins said. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“The name’s Royce Walker. I’d like to talk about Lauren Reynolds.”

No reaction. “What about her?”

“You tell me.”

“I hate the bitch. What’s it to you?”

“Everything.”

“She’s trying to kill my sister,” he said coldly.

“She’s doing her job.”

“Amazing how some people get paid to kill another while others just get thrown in jail, now isn’t it?” There was no mistaking the malice to the question. “Makes a person appreciate the laws of another country. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.”

“That’s called the death penalty,” Royce reminded him. “And here we get a jury and we’re innocent until proven guilty.”

“She’s already convicted my sister, and we both know it.”

“Her opinion doesn’t matter. The jury’s does.”

“And she tells them what she wants them to hear.”

He started to shut the door and Royce shoved his foot in the door. “Touch her and you’ll regret it.”

“I’m shaking in my bare feet, man. Absolutely quivering. I’m put in my place.”

They glared at one another and Royce wanted to yank the ass**le into the hallway and beat him to a pulp, but he wouldn’t do Lauren any good in jail. However, if this guy meant her harm, he needed him to know that she wasn’t alone, that she was protected. “I’m going to be watching you,” he said, and stepped back.

His lips lifted in an evil smile. “Enjoy the show.” And he shut the door.

***

Royce was halfway back to the city, heading *****llivan’s offices, the attorney who’d defended Sheridan, when it hit him that he’d never told Wilkins who he was, beyond a name, and Wilkins had never asked. Something about that rubbed him wrong, but then, everything about Wilkins rubbed him wrong.

He sent a text to Lauren and made sure she was okay, then called Julie. “Law offices.”

“I need to speak to Julie Morrison.”

“She’s not available,” the prim voice on the other line informed him.

He held his tone in check with effort, but his words still held a sharp edge. “Make her available. Tell her Royce Walker needs to speak to her urgently.”

“Sir”

“Just do it,” he demanded. Rude and he knew it, but damn it, he didn’t have niceties in him right now. Instantly he heard office music in his ear.

“Royce?” Julie said, concern in her voice. “Is Lauren okay?”

“Yes,” he said reassuring her, feeling a bit of guilt for scaring her. “I just need you to take her lunch and check on her.”

A sigh of relief escaped Julie’s lips. “That’s an order I’ll happily take. You really are a bossy bear, Royce.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to work on that. Have her call me when you get there. I mean, please have her call me when you get there.”

She laughed. “Since you asked, I absolutely will.” She paused. “Don’t hurt her, Royce. She deserves to be happy.”

His gut knotted. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

By the time Royce parked his truck and fed a parking meter, he knew he would be hard pressed to make his meeting with Luke after this trip. Sullivan’s street level office was small and rather humble in decor, at least from the exterior. A doorbell chimed as he entered. The lobby hosted a light assortment of furnishings including a well-worn desk and several mix and match pictures. It was a far cry from the elite law firm Sullivan had worked for during the Sheridan trial.

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A tall man with curly blond hair, a lanky build, and a suspicious gaze appeared in a corner doorway. With sleeves a hint too long, and pants the same, his suit fit him about as well as the furnishing. It didn’t. There was an air about this man that said money. A complete contradiction to his surroundings.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Sullivan. David Sullivan.”

“I’m Sullivan. Who are you?”

Royce sensed nervousness in the man. “Royce Walker. I handle security issues for individuals as well as businesses. I’m here to discuss Marvin Sheridan.” It wasn’t a request, nor was it meant to be.

“What of him?” he questioned with narrowed eyes.

“There is suspicion that he could be involved in some threats one of my clients has been receiving.”

Sullivan studied Royce for several long moments as if he was deciding if he should talk to him. Finally, with a nod, he said, “Come this way,” turned and started walking.

Odd man, he thought, following him, noting the man’s jerky movements, almost like a machine fighting a mechanism.

Inside the corner office, Sullivan sat behind a bigger version of the scuffed piece of wood in the center of the lobby. Royce settled into a worn blue cloth visitor’s chair. He would have preferred to stand but he sensed Sullivan’s unease and didn’t want to intimidate him by hovering. He wanted the man to talk.

Leaning back, Sullivan rocked in a squeaky leather chair. Like nails on a chalkboard, the sound raked on Royce’s nerves. “Sheridan is scheduled to be executed,” he said. ”What harm is he to your client?”

Royce narrowed his gaze on the man. “Kept up with him, I see?”

“Wouldn’t you if you were the attorney who defended a man being put to death?”

Royce shrugged. “He’s a killer.”

“He was temporarily insane.”

“The jury said differently.”

Tapping the fingers of one hand on his desk, Sullivan studied Royce. “What are you after here, Mr. Walker?”

“How do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”

“Is Lauren your client?”

“My client’s identity is confidential. Again, how do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”

“How does anyone feel about the opponent that brings them to their knees?” His tone was hostile.

“You tell me,” Royce challenged.

“It doesn’t really matter. It’s past history.”

“What does that mean?”

Sullivan snorted. “What do you think it means? The man is going to die, end of story. He’s out of appeals.”

“How’s Sheridan handling that?”

Sullivan raked a hand through his hair. “He’s accepting. He met a woman who helped him find God. He says he’s been forgiven and ready to face his maker.”

“Should you have won the case?”

A frown dipped his brows. “Should have, yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” Royce pressed.

His fist balled on top of the desk. “I had some bumps during the trial, and Lauren Reynolds milked each and every one of them. Surely you read the press I got over the ordeal. I lost my job, my wife, everything.”

“And you blame her?”

He grimaced and seemed to stiffen. “I did, but not anymore. I stumbled. She did what any good attorney would do and took advantage of opportunity. There’s no room in the courtroom to screw up. You just can’t do it.”

Royce stood to leave. “One more thing,” he said. “Is there anyone around Sheridan who might want revenge on his behalf?”

“Other than me and the ten partners in the law firm I worked for, no one.”

Ten partners who had suffered the bad press of losing the trail. Damn, the list of possibilities just got longer and longer. Royce turned to leave. “There is one more person who hates Lauren,” Sullivan said. Royce turned and arched a brow.

“My ex-wife. She lost all the prestige and money she thought I was about to give her. The bitch married me for money and power, and nothing more.”

Chapter Sixteen

In a few short hours, Lauren had negotiated plea bargains on four cases. She was zapped and she still had hours of work to do. It was taking every ounce of concentration she had to keep focused on the words she was reading as she clicked through her e-mail. She had forty new items in her inbox since she cleared it two hours before.

“Lauren.”

Lauren jumped at the unexpected, familiar voice of her ex-fiancée, Roger. “You scared the heck out of me. How did you get past the front desk?”

He leaned against the door frame, looking every bit like Tom Cruise in ‘The Firm’, one leg crossed over the other, his thousand dollar suit fitted, his hair and nails perfectly groomed. “She was on the phone and I waved and walked by.”

So easily. Too easily. She was fooling herself to think she was safely nestled in her office. “What are you doing here, Roger?”

“What kind of way is that to greet your ex-fiancé? I am, after all, the man you almost pleaded never ending love to.”

“I’m tired. I have a big trial starting, and I don’t have time for this.” She refocused on her computer screen intent on dismissing him.

“I worry about you.”

The sincerity in his voice surprised her. She gave him a curious look. Suddenly, the past came back in a rush of memories, but none of them were good. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever said ‘yes’ to marrying him.

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“We weren’t meant to be, Roger. We were a business arrangement and neither of us would have been happy long term.”

Lauren’s buzzer went off. She punched the button. “Yes.”

“Pick up.”

Lauren frowned, but reached for the receiver. “Yes?”

Alice whispered urgently, “There is a very large, very grouchy man here who insists on seeing you.”

Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s Royce. Tell him I’ll be right out.” Lauren pushed to her feet. “I have a visitor I need to attend.”

Abruptly Roger closed the distance between them, and was behind her desk, his hands on her shoulders, right over the bandage and her burn. “I made a mistake. I had cold feet. We can make it work. I’ll make it up to you.”

Lauren grabbed his hand. “You're hurting me.”

“And you’re destroying me. I miss you. I”

“Let her go.”

Roger released her and turned to the door, where Royce stood, tall and broad, in jeans and a T-shirt, that might as well have been leather and knives, for the look on his face.

“Who are you?” Roger demanded.

“The only man who gets to touch her.”

Lauren gaped at the ****man-like statement. “Royce,” she ground out between her teeth.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I was just leaving,” Roger said, but Royce still blocked the doorway and made no effort to move.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Royce said in a hard voice Lauren was starting to worry about.

Roger, who was used to being under fire in the courtroom appeared to recover from his initial shock. Offering a cool glare, he said, “I’m not. I simply came by to check on Lauren.” He glanced at Lauren, “I’ll call you,” and then stepped forward as if daring Royce to block his way.

For several tense seconds, Lauren thought Royce wasn’t going to move, but finally he backed up to let Roger pass. She was at the door when Royce stepped inside her office, shutting the door. “You’re the only man who gets to touch me? I’m not your property, Royce.”

“No. But we’re either exclusive or we aren’t anything.”

At any other time, she’d have reveled in what he was saying, what he was offering, but not now, not like this. “You don’t get to tell me we’re exclusive. You don’t get to demand it. That’s not how this works.”

He grabbed her and picked her up, setting her on the desk, shoving her skirt up and pressing her legs apart to stand between them. His hands framed her body, pressed to the wooden surface beside her hips. “Do you want Roger?”

Heat sizzled down her spine. This damnable alpha side of him pissed her off, but it turned her on too, and she didn’t understand why. She pressed on his hard, unmoving chest. “Don’t bully me or push me around. Let me up.”

“Do you want Roger?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Apparently you want to keep you options open,” he said, his hands skimming up her thighs. “You don’t want to say we’re exclusive. So maybe this is just a good time ride for you?”

“You’re being an ass**le,” she said. “Demanding and demanding. You don’t get to demand. You ask, Royce.”

His eyes darkened, glinting dangerously. “You want me to ask?” He skimmed his thumb over her panties. “How about this? Will you come for me, Lauren? Right here, in your office?” He slid his fingers under her panties and she gasped at the pleasure. “Does he make you wet like this?”

“Stop it, Royce,” she gasped as his fingers pushed inside her. “Stop.”

He reached up and tugged down her blouse, exposing her bra and then her nipple, before leaning down and licking it. “Not until you say you’re mine.”

“I’m not saying that. I won’t ever be yours if you’re this big of an ass**le.”

“I’m just making sure you know who is supposed to be f**king you.”

She arched against his fingers, unable to stop herself. “I hate how you’re acting.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “I hate that you’re doing... this.” Her body clenched around his fingers, pleasure rushing through her, defying her words.

The fingers of his other hand tangled into her hair, forcing her gaze to his, her mouth a breath from his. He stroked her cl*t with his thumb, pumping inside her. “I hate the idea of him doing this to you.”

“He can’t do this to me.”

“Why?” he all but growled.

There was something in his voice, in his words, a vulnerability that defied his demands, that reached into her and drew a response. “Because he’s not you, Royce.”

He kissed her, hard and demanding, a fierce claiming that had her moaning and giving into her need for him. Everything blurred then turning to shades of pleasure. She couldn’t get enough of him, she couldn’t even remember where she was. Only that she helped him shove his pants down, welcomed him ripping away her panties, and whimpered when his c**k pressed into her.

He thrust into her, lifted her off the desk, and pulled her down on him. She clung to him, hungered for him like she had never another man, and yes, she came for him, just like he wanted her to.

He shook with his release and then set her on the desk, burying his face in her neck. Emotions rolled over Lauren and she didn’t know what she was feeling. “Let me up,” she said, shoving on his shoulders. “I need up. Someone could walk in.”

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He lifted his head and looked like he would refuse, a moment before he pulled a tissue from the box on her desk, handed it to her, and pulled out of her.

Lauren quickly gave him her back to clean up. She snatched her panties, shoved them in her desk drawer and fixed her shirt. She turned to find him standing close, hands pressed in his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know what the hell came over me. I don’t want anyone else to touch you and I’m pretty sure I just screwed this up in every possible way.”

The raw vulnerability in him she’d sensed minutes before reached out to her, “I don’t want Roger. I don’t want anyone else, but if you act like that again,” she hesitated, “I might come but I won’t like it.”

His lips turned up slowly. ”You won’t like it?”

“Okay, I might like it, but I won’t be happy I liked it.”

He bit back a broader smile. “Do I dare believe that comment means you forgive me?”

“Yes but”

He was holding her before she could add “Don’t go ****man on me again.”

“Never?” he teased.

She brushed her fingers over his. “Maybe later tonight, but not after that.”

He chuckled. “I can’t wait.”

And neither could she. It was time to face the very real possibility that she’d gone and exposed herself to more than a dangerous monster trying to kill her. She’d exposed her heart. Lauren was falling in love with Royce.

Chapter Seventeen

It was near midnight and Royce lay in his bed, Lauren snuggled to his side sleeping, something he couldn’t seem to manage. Three days had passed, and despite his ****man behavior at her office, as Lauren often called it, or perhaps because of it, she’d changed, let down her guard with him. She finally seemed to get how much he was invested in what was going on with them. Any happiness he might have arrived at from that was diminished by the torment of knowing that he was failing to protect her, proven by the fact that every day came with another calendar sheet delivered by what seemingly was a damn ghost. One had been stuffed in a lunch bag from a delivery to her office, but no one at the restaurant claimed to have put it there. One had been on his truck window despite the video footage that showed nothing. The final one had been left with the security desk at her building, delivered by a little old lady who disappeared, and was never seen again. And every single delivery was a taunt that said “I can get to her whenever I want to” and Royce knew it.

His cell phone started to vibrate on the bedside table and he grabbed it, certain a call at this hour wasn’t good. Lauren’s head popped up. ”What time is it?”

“Late,” he said, answering the call that the ID identified as Bill Smith, the Senator’s staff security person.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not bothering with ‘hello.’ He untwined himself from Lauren to sit up, anticipating trouble and heading to his closet.

“Senator Reynolds’ house is on fire.”

Royce stopped in his tracks. “How?”

“I’m not there yet but I’m being told it’s obvious arson.”

Holy hell. “Is everyone okay?”

“The senator certainly is, enough so that he’s yelling at me and telling me I need to get my ass over here and start doing my job. He wants you there. That’s an order.”

An order. Right. He didn’t even work for the man. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He ended the call and dialed Luke, managing to get his pants on while it rang. “Get over here, dressed, and ready to leave. And get Blake down here to stay with Lauren.” He didn’t wait for a reply, ending the call and reaching for a shirt and pulling it over his head.

“What’s happening?” Lauren asked, on her knees now and clutching the blanket. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”

Damn, he didn’t want to tell her this. He grabbed his boots and headed for the bed. “No one is hurt.” He sat down next to her. “Everyone is completely fine.” He quickly put on his boots and ran his hands down his pants.

“But? I hear the ‘but’. What is going on?”

“I’m going to repeat this to make sure I’m making myself clear. Everyone is okay but there has been a fire at your father’s house.”

“What? How? Oh, God. I have to get over there.” She shoved away the blanket and he shackled her arm.

“No,” he said. “You need to stay here. I need to know you’re safe so I can deal with your father.”

“Why do you need to deal with my father? He’s my father.” She frowned. “Why did he call you?”

“That was Bill, his security guy.”

“I don’t understand. Why did Bill call you?”

He wasn’t going to lie to her. He hadn’t done so before now, and doing so would only make her think worse of him later. “It’s complicated. Too complicated to explain at this moment. I know you’re worried but everyone is safe. It’s you who might not be if you’re there, in the middle of all the chaos, where you’re an easy target.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” She shook her head. “I... what aren’t you telling me?”

“I promise you that I will explain everything when I get back.” He caressed her cheek. “Please, baby. I’m begging you here. No ****man routine. No demands. I’m asking. Let me deal with this without worrying about you.”

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“I don’t want to stay here.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t ask you to, not under these circumstances, if I didn’t really feel like it was important.”

She considered him a long moment. “Fine. Yes. But only if you call me when you get there. I want to know you’ve seen my father with your own two eyes and that he’s really okay.”

“I will.” He leaned in and kissed her, and his gut clenched. He hesitated, knowing this was the wrong time to tell her how he felt, but afraid not to. She was going to find out about his deal with her father tonight, he just knew it, and she was going to hate him.

Knocking sounded from the front door and he silently cursed. “I have to go.” He kissed her again and took off for the other room, forcing himself to leave her.

***

Lauren walked to the living room, shoving her arms in her red silk robe, only to come face to face with Blake. He stood by the couch, fully dressed, his long hair wild and loose around his shoulders, his eyes blurry with barely escaped sleep.

They stared at each other several beats, before he said, “Not the best circumstances to get to know each other, but I’ve always found the best way to get past niceties and awkward **** is food.” He motioned to the kitchen. “Want to go raid the fridge with me?”

She sighed, surprised and relieved at how easily he’d torn away the tension. “There’s leftover pizza but I get the cheese slices.”

He grinned, his brown eyes friendly, warm. ”Deal.”

A few minutes later they sat at the coffee table, eating cold pizza and drinking soda, both of them with their cell phones lying on the table. “How’s your arm?” he asked.

“Much better. It’s going to scar but I can live with that.” She dropped a piece of crust into the box. “Do you think the same person set the fire?”

“Yes.” He sucked down some drink.

“You don’t candy coat things, I see.”

“Nope.” He reached for another slice of pizza.

“Aren’t you ATF or ex-ATF? Shouldn’t you be at the fire?”

“I don’t know the people involved the way Royce and Luke do.”

“You mean my father.”

“And the suspects.”

“What suspects.” Her stomach fell to her feet. “You mean you think this involves me, don’t you?”

He moved the empty pizza box. “Don’t you?”

She swallowed hard. “I... I didn’t know we thought the fire was intentional.”

“It was.”

The phone in the kitchen rang and Lauren started to get up. “It’s not him,” Blake said. “He never answers that phone or calls it. I don’t know why he has the damn thing.” He reached under the coffee table and pulled out a deck of cards. “You're not going to sleep. We might as well play.”

“I wish he’d call.”

“He’ll call,” Blake said. “But once you get on a scene things tend to get crazy.”

“What if he’s wrong and my father is hurt?”

He grabbed his phone. “I’ll call Luke if it will make you feel better.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Blake.”

Luke answered almost immediately and Blake quickly told Lauren, “Your father is fine. He’s currently yelling at Royce, which is why he hasn’t called us.” He chatted with Luke a moment and then hung up. “Before you ask, I have no idea why your father is yelling at Royce. But yelling means he’s alive and kicking and isn’t that all that really matters?”

“What if his house had been burned down because of me? What if someone would have died?”

“Those things didn’t happen.” He studied her a long moment. “Take it from me, Lauren. ‘What if’ will eat you alive. Don’t do that to yourself.”

He was talking about what happened to his fiancée; she knew he was.

He grabbed the cards. “Since we don’t have ‘Old Maid,’ how about ‘Go Fish’?”

“Go Fish,” she said. “That’s a walk down childhood lane. I’m in.” She’d do anything to keep from climbing the walls. “Let me go put on some coffee first.”

Lauren headed to the kitchen and quickly started to load the coffee pot, realizing just how comfortable she was here, how at home she felt in Royce’s place. He felt right. They felt right. She flipped the pot on and promised herself she wasn’t going to read into what was happening tonight, or his promise to tell her everything, that inferred he’d been keeping something from her.

The phone on the wall rang again about the time that she reached for two coffee mugs in the cabinet, and it hit her that it was the middle of the night. Who called at a time like this? Her nerves prickled, worry filling her. When she would have headed back to the living room, she just stood there, waiting on the machine, certain the ticking clock had found her. The beep sounded and a voice came on the line instead.

“Royce, sugar,” a female purred. “Donna here. Where have you been, baby? Call me so we can do dinner or whatever else you want to do.” Lauren clenched the cups, feeling her chest tighten with emotion, a flashback of finding Roger in bed with another woman turning into an image of Royce with another woman.

“She’s no one, Lauren,” Blake said from behind her.

She whirled around to face him. “That didn’t sound like no one.”

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“She didn’t even rate his cell phone number.”

“So that’s why he has a land line? For women.”

“He was single and he had no interest in long term. You changed that, Lauren. You know you did. You’re upset tonight. Don’t make this something it’s not.”

She didn’t know what she felt or what she thought. She only knew that everything was spinning out of control, that she had no control. She’d done what she’d never done in her life. She’d given it all away.

She pushed off the counter and walked towards him. “I’m going to my father’s house.” He blocked the exit. “Move, Blake. I’m sick of you Walker brothers pushing me around.”

“He is crazy about you.”

She wasn’t going to cry. She was not going to cry. Her chin lifted. “You can take me where I want to go or I can call a cab. Your choice.”

He scrubbed his hair. “Oh, well hell. He’s going to take my head for this, but I’ll take you.”

***

The first thing Lauren saw when they rounded the neighborhood corner were fire trucks, the next was her father’s house still looking normal and in one piece. She let out a breath of relief, especially since Blake had been desperately trying to warn Royce and Luke that they were on their way, and he couldn’t seem to reach either of them.

“It’s not on fire,” Lauren said, glancing at Blake.

“It’s contained,” Blake said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not on fire, or it wasn’t on fire.” He dropped his phone to the seat, and grumbled something about hanging Royce up by his toes. “Looks like several houses down is as close as we’re going to get with all the yellow tap.” He angled the Ranger to back in between two cars, and put the car in reverse, pausing to say, “I’ll go get Royce and bring him to”

Lauren shoved open the door, hopped out, and started running towards the house, the cool night air whipping through her hair and making her pull the jacket of her sweat suit closer to her body.

“Lauren!” Blake shouted.

She ignored him, cutting up a line of bushes to avoid the cluster of four official personnel not far away, and then ducking under the tape.

Blake shouted again, getting closer, and Lauren stepped up her pace, and charged towards the porch. She hit the first step, relieved that if there was any structural damage, it wasn’t significant enough to be seen from here.

She entered the front door, hearing Blake talking to someone behind her. She paused inside the foyer, seeing no obvious fire or damage, but the scent of smoke tainted the air, bitter proof there had been a fire. The sound of voices drew her to the left, towards her father’s den.

Her tennis shoes padded soundlessly over the carpet and she paused at the cracked door, some invisible force, instinct, telling her to wait, to listen. She eased around the edge of the door so that she could see into the room.

Royce was standing by the marble fireplace, Luke at the opposite side. Her father, and some man she didn’t recognize, sat in leather chairs framing the couch.

“I’m not going to keep this from her,” Royce said. “I’m done, Senator. This ends tonight.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” her father said, standing up. “When I hired you”

“I don’t work for you,” he said. ”I did you a favor because you saved my father’s life in Vietnam. The end.”

The words cut through Lauren and she acted immediately, shoving open the door and stepping inside, seeing only Royce. “Favor? I was a favor.”

“Lauren,” Royce said, taking a step towards her. “I can explain.”

“That’s a ‘yes,’” she said, humiliation and hurt pouring through her. She turned and started to run, bursting through the front door, rushing down the steps, and straight into the path of Blake. At the same moment, Royce’s hand was on her arm, shooting hot fire up her arm.

She whirled around to face him, jerking out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me. You don’t ever touch me again.”

“Let me explain. Please. Just hear me out.”

“You made a deal with my father,” she said. “You used *** and my feelings to get inside my life to do his bidding whatever the hell it was. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.”

“He asked me to check out a couple threats against your life and I agreed. And I would have told you but I saw you were in danger and I wasn’t going to risk you pushing me away.”

“So you thought you’d just f**k me in*****bmission?”

“No,” he breathed out. “Damn it, no. This has been eating me alive. You had me at ‘hello,’ Lauren. Hell, you had me from across the room. I couldn’t, I can’t, let you push me away and end up dead. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m not your concern. Not anymore.”

“This wasn’t a fire. It was a bomb, delivered in a package that said it was for you. It went off, sitting on a table in the dining room; thankfully when no one was around.”

She gasped. “Oh God. I... I can’t believe this is happening.” Luke stepped to Royce’s side. “Julie. I need to make sure Julie”

“I know,” Luke said. “Kyle tried to get her to my place. He’s taking her to a well secured hotel. Her choice.”

She nodded. “Okay. Yes.”

“And you’re coming home with me,” Royce said.

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“No. I’m going to stay with Julie.”

“Staying with Julie makes her more of a target,” he said. “You have to see that.”

“The police have to know about this now,” she said. “I’ll talk to them. I’m sure they want to talk to me. I’ll get protection.”

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, his face buried in her neck, lips by her ear. “I swear to you, Lauren, that if you don’t leave here with me of your own free will, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Hate me if you have to but you’re going to be alive when this is over.”

She was trembling with his touch, with the warmth of his breath on her neck, with desire to turn back time and have him be who she’d thought he was. To have them be what she’d thought they were. “I can’t. I just... can’t.”

“She can stay at my place tonight,” Blake said from behind her. “Then you two can figure things out from there.”

Royce pulled back to look at her, his blue eyes hard with determination. “Choose. Me or Blake?”

“Blake.”

His chest expanded and then relaxed, before he took a step backwards. “We have to talk.”

“No. No, we don’t.” She turned to Blake. “Please get me out of here.”

His gaze lifted over her head to Royce’s and held a long moment before he stepped aside and waved her forward.

Once they were in the Ranger, darkness and silence was all there was, until finally, they pulled into the garage of their building and parked.

They sat there a moment, neither of them moving. “When I was in the ATF I fell in love with a woman, another agent.”

Shocked at his personal confession, she turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was clutching the steering wheel, staring at the concrete wall in front of them.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I... knew that.”

“So you know she was murdered.”

Her heart clenched. “Yes.”

His head jerked around, his gaze piercing hers, even in the darkness of the vehicle. “If Royce had asked me if he should have come clean with you, I wouldn’t have told him ‘no’ but ‘hell no’. You would have done what you did tonight. You would have pushed him away and made it damn near impossible for him to protect you. And you don’t take risks with someone’s life, especially not someone you care about the way he cares about you. You risk their anger, their inability to forgive you, but you don’t let them die.”

She could barely breathe with his words. “You blame yourself. You think you compromised on something that cost her life.”

“I know I did,” he said. “I let her die. He’s been a wreck, worried you would hate him, worried about protecting you. And that woman on the machine was nothing to him, Lauren. Nothing. You are. He has a past but so do you. We’re going upstairs and you aren’t staying with me. You’re staying with him. If you want to sleep in the guest room, then so be it, but you need to be with him, so you two can try and work this out.”

She started to cry, the second time in two days and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried before that. She hadn’t even cried when she’d found Roger in bed with his bimbo. Mad at her weakness, she swiped the tears, and shoved the door open.

Blake met her at the bed of the truck, and they walked in silence to the elevator and then the apartment. She waited for him to search the apartment, and then joined him. She stood inside the door, trying to decide what to do, unsure how she felt. No, she wasn’t unsure. She hurt. She hurt like she’d never hurt before.

Blake sat down on the couch and she walked into Royce’s room, ignoring the rumpled sheets and the spicy male scent of the man she knew she loved, the man she’d always known would break her heart, and gathered as many of her things as would fit in a bag. She needed space, she needed to think. She needed trust.

She walked out of the bedroom, heading to the spare room down a hallway to the left of the master. Blake was watching the news, and he didn’t look up, but when she was about to turn down the hall, the television went off.

“Lauren.”

She paused without turning. “I meant it when I said ‘what if’ destroys. It’s the bitch of all bitches. Don’t give her a chance to destroy you, or my brother.”

Chapter Eighteen

Lauren’s cell phone alarm buzzed near her head and her lashes shot open. She’d dozed off and on, but true deep sleep had never come. She turned off the alarm, emotion swelling insider her. Royce hadn’t come to her, and it hurt, which confused her. She had told him to stay away. She wanted him to stay away. She sat up. Oh God. What if something had happened? What if he never came home? She shot to her feet, tugging her long pajama top to her knees as she hurried down the hall and rounded the wall, to stop dead in her tracks. Royce and Blake were both there, fully dressed and sleeping the two chairs they occupied reclined back, the television on mute.

Lauren stared at Royce, his long hair half out of the clasp at his neck, the long, dark strands brushing his handsome, tension etched face. She inhaled and started to tiptoe to his bedroom, where she’d realized last night she’d left her purse and makeup, and pretty much everything she needed to get ready for work. She crept into his room, gently eased the door shut and then rushed to the bathroom.

Minutes later, she stepped into the shower, the hot water pouring relief into her stiff, tired muscles. She lingered, taking her time, not eager to get out and face the day, most likely filled with police and news people.

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Finally, she forced herself to turn off the shower and pulled the curtain back. Royce sat on the toilet. Lauren jumped and let out a tiny yelp. He handed her a towel, his eyes lowered. She accepted it and wrapped it around herself.

His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes so blue, so tormented, they stole her breath. “I couldn’t go to bed knowing you weren’t there.”

She squeezed her lashes shut, water dripping down her cheeks, off her hair. “I can’t do this now. Not before I go to work.” She stepped out of the tub and he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. “I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you. I wasn’t about to let your father hold this over my head for the rest of our lives. I”

She shoved away from him, suddenly furious. This was about her father. “Right. You wouldn’t want my father to hold this over your head.” She pointed at the door. “I know this is your bathroom but please leave and let me get dressed. Please. I need to be alone.”

“You took that wrong. You didn’t”

“I don’t want to hear this now, Royce. I want to go to work and do what I do far better than relationships. I put criminals behind bars.”

He studied her a long moment and then scrubbed his heavily stubble jaw and stood up, towering over her. His eyes pierced hers, lingering on her face for several tense seconds, before he turned and walked away. She stood there, unable to move, in a puddle of water, and then something snapped inside her. She ran after him, rounding the bathroom door at the same moment he reached for the bedroom door.

“Consider yourself fired.”

He turned to look at her. “You can’t fire me. You didn’t hire me and neither did your father, Lauren. I promised to check out a threat. I fell in love. The end.” He turned and yanked open the door and left, slamming it behind him.

Lauren sank down on the floor and damn it, she was flipping crying again. He didn’t love her. No. And saying he did was manipulative and mean. She was so damn tired of the men in her life using her like some sort of token. She swiped angrily at the stupid tears she should be above and forced herself to stand up. It was time she took a real lesson from Julie, that she separated *** from relationships, accepted that the relationship part was better left for people who liked heartache, because she didn’t.

***

Royce showered in the spare bathroom and changed into jeans and a black t-shirt he’d left in his dryer, and was pulling on a leather jacket, when the bedroom door opened. Lauren emerged, dressed in a cream colored suit that grabbed the highlights in her long, brown hair and turned them *****nshine. Hair he knew smelled like honey and vanilla. God, he had it bad for this woman and she hated him. He was pathetic, the kind of pathetic he would have called foolish in any other man.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You’re taking me?”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said, and there was a bite to his voice he couldn’t hide. She had a fist around his heart and just kept squeezing. “You're stuck with me until I catch your would-be killer. Then you can kick me to the curb.”

She stared at him a long moment and then cut her gaze, her shoulders folding in slightly, that sunshine hair hiding her face. Emotion rolled off of her and punched him in the gut, twisting him in guilty knots.

“Lauren,” he said softly.

Her gaze lifted to his. “Yes?”

“Truce, baby. Today is going to be hell. Let’s be on the same team so we can get this SOB and make him pay.”

“Yes,” she said, a slight tremble to her voice. “Yes, okay.” She walked towards him but they didn’t speak.

They walked to the truck in silence, the tension between them so thick it might as well have been concrete. He helped her into the vehicle, their glances catching, the awareness between them crackling in the air. She still cared about him; he saw that in her eyes and determination filled him. He was going to make things right.

Fifteen minutes later, he parked at a meter in front of her office. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Aren’t you just dropping me off?”

“Not today. Whoever this is saw us fight last night, or I’ll gamble that he did, which means we need to send a clear message. I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to walk you in and I’m going to kiss you goodbye in public.”

“That’s... that’s not necessary.”

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Lauren. I have since the moment I met you. I can’t be mad at your father for bringing us together.”

She dropped her head to his chest. “I’m afraid to believe you.”

He tilted her chin up, gently forced her to look at him. “Then I’ll show you and tell you until you do.”

And when he expected her to push him away, she whispered. “Promise?”

Relief washed over him and he kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss and it took everything inside him to end it. “I promise.”

“I’m not going to tell you I love you now,” she said.

“Now?”

“Not now.”

“If there’s a later, I can live with that.” He wiped smudged lipstick from her cheek. “The police aren’t involved. I used my FBI contacts and they claimed jurisdiction and sealed the file. No press, and I have a guy over there working this already. He’s simply no longer doing it off the books. He’s a good man. This will be kept quiet.”

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Tension rushed from her body. “Thank you, Royce.”

“Thank me by being safe. It’s Tuesday. Your jury selection is still scheduled for tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, I’m going to work through the evidence from last night before then. I have a feeling our guy will show up for that. I have three men on the building. I’m one phone call away. If you feel even a tiny bit uncomfortable, you call and I’m here. I’ll take you home.”

Her phone rang, she dug it out of her purse and he watched her hit ‘ignore’. She glanced up at him. “My father. According to his five messages, he wants me to drop this case before I get ‘everyone killed.’”

For once he was beginning to agree with the senator, and for his own selfish reasons. He wanted Lauren safe. “I’ll walk you upstairs and I’ll pick you up inside your office.”

***

Several hours later Lauren had finally managed to focus on her work, and was deep in concentration when the buzzer on her desk made her jump. She hit the button.

“Lauren?”

“Oh God, I know that tone to your voice. Who is here that I don’t want to see?”

“Mommie Dearest,” she whispered.

“What? Why in the world… Sharon is here?”

“Oh yes.”

This was odd and unexpected. “Fine. Send her in.”

“Good luck.”

Yeah, I’ll need it, Lauren thought. Obviously Sharon wanted something. It was the only time she heard from the woman. Dropping her pen on the desk, she leaned back in her chair, hands settling on the arms rests.

Dressed from head to toe in Chanel, her skirt short and fitted, her perfume obnoxious, Sharon sashayed into the office.

“Hello, darling,” she purred. ”How is my favorite stepdaughter?”

“I’m your only stepdaughter,” Lauren reminded her.

“Yes, dear, and that makes it even more special now, doesn’t it?” She set her purse on a nearby chair, and moved to a decorative mirror on Lauren’s wall, inspecting her appearance.

“What is it you want, Sharon?” Lauren asked without any effort to hide her impatience. “I have a lot on my plate today.”

Dabbing at her lipstick first, obviously in no hurry, Sharon turned with a heavy sigh. “I want to talk about Brad.”

“Brad. The house had a bomb in it last night and you want to talk about Brad.”

“I want to talk about getting your life back on track. Clearly, you’re spinning out of control and taking the rest of us with you.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “And it seems to me that now, right after you almost got us all killed, is the perfect time to talk about real change. Quit this fool’s game you play in this place and get serious about a bigger picture. Your father is being urged to run for the Republic presidential card again this term. He’s seriously considering it, but to get the backing he needs, and that will be a massive cash influx, we must be solid as a family. This is a greater calling, a way to change the world. We all must make sacrifices, which means you have to stop this thing you do here and now. Battered women deserve sympathy, not the electric chair. You are making your father look bad.”

Lauren stood up. “This conversation is over.”

Sharon didn’t get up. “I’ve talked to a consultant who thinks you and Brad being pulled together by family tragedy the loss of your mother, of course, would be a story that warms hearts. It would show love found in the midst of pain. It would talk to the public.”

“Are you crazy? Is your consultant crazy? That’s practically incest.”

Sharon waved that away. “You lived in the same household for a flutter of a moment and you are not blood related. It’s a fairy tale.”

“Does my father know this?”

“Of course not. He is too stressed. I told him I’d do everything. I’d clear the path to the oval office and find the money. All he has to do is focus on his political strategy.”

“This ridiculous, insane conversation is over. I truly think you’ve finally proven to me you are not completely of this world, Sharon.”

“Sit down, Lauren,” she said sharply. “We are not done. Not even close.”

Lauren glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with my boss in ten minutes. I need to freshen up and get going.” Grabbing her purse, Lauren waved towards the door. “I’ll walk you out on my way to the washroom.”

Sharon drew in a breath, her eyes blazing fire. “Fine. I’ll talk to your father. Expect his call.” She turned and marched for the door.

Lauren followed her to the door and watched her leave. “Queen Bitch,” Alice mumbled, standing up and fluffing her gray hair. “I’m going to the mailroom. That new supervisor needs to ask me a question.”

Lauren smiled weakly, aware of Alice’s crush. “Enjoy. I’m headed to my meeting.” She followed Alice to the hallway and then stopped in the bathroom, happy to find it empty. She paused at the mirror, her fingers trailing over her lips, her mind replaying Royce’s kiss, his words. I love you, Lauren.

She was just told to stop fighting for what she cared about, for what she thought was right and wrong in this world. Last night, this morning, she’d almost done that with Royce. The one person, other than his brothers, who had told her to keep going, who believed in what she did, in who she was. He felt right. He felt worth the risk. And he already had her heart. There was no sense trying to protect it. “I love you, too,” she whispered, unable to deny the truth.

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Feeling remarkably better considering the threats, the bomb, and a stepmother who was probably mentally ill, she headed for the door when the fire alarm went off. Oh good grief, not again. These test runs the building did disrupted everything. She reached for the door and then frowned. It didn’t open. She tried again and it didn’t move. Dropping her purse to the ground she tugged with two hands. Nothing.

Suddenly, the alarm became a part of a new nightmare. What if the building really was on fire? Oh, God, it was. There was a fire, and she was going to die. She grabbed her purse and scrambled for her phone, then hit auto-dial for Royce. No signal. She hit every auto-dial he’d put in her phone. Nothing. She was trapped in a burning building.

Chapter Nineteen

Royce had barely made it back to his building and sat down at his desk in the Walker office when Blake sauntered in, his long hair damp and slicked back, his stubble dark and unattended.

“Nice shave,” Royce commented.

“I showered. I changed. I’m staying here today. This is as good as it gets.” He sat down at one of the four steel desks in the office, directly across from Royce, leaned back in his chair, and kicked his boots up on the top.

“Morning, angels,” Luke said, shoving through the door, his short hair neatly groomed, his face clean shaven.

Blake glanced over his shoulder at him. “Oh, yes. Morning, angel. Kiss, kiss, and cheery sunshine happiness to you.” He grumbled something under his breath and then said, “I just heard from my ATF contact.”

“And?” Royce and Luke asked at the same time, as Luke sat down on the edge of Blake’s desk.

“You know from last night that the package had an amateur grade explosive device,” Blake said. “The interesting part though, is that it had a timer. It’s possible that it went off at the incorrect hour with a malfunction. But,” he sat up, “think about this. A package that went off in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep. A snake that wasn’t poisonous. And this bomb wasn’t directed at Lauren.”

“Two days before she starts jury selection,” Royce commented.

“Right,” Luke said. “She hasn’t scared off yet, so the pressure increases.”

“This doesn’t mean she’s not in danger,” Blake said. “This could be some sadistic bastard who wants to torment her before he kills her.”

Royce shot him a glowering look. “Thanks for the ice water in the face.”

“Anytime bro,” Blake said.

“Could be a sick obsession with her,” Luke said. “This guy”

“Or woman,” Royce inserted. “It could be a woman.”

“Either way,” Luke said, going back to his prior thought. “He filmed her. He followed her. He watched her.”

Royce pushed to his feet and walked to the glass door of the small office, the only window to the street, staring out at the people passing by without seeing them. The clear way this person was stalking Lauren was eating him alive. “And we have nothing but a long list of suspects,” Royce murmured, half to himself, before turning. “We need an end game, damn it. We need it now.”

“We know he, or she, is after Lauren,” Blake said. “Make her bait. Set her up in the open in a way that doesn’t seem planned and bring him to her.”

“Oh, what the f**k, Blake?” Royce said, stepping towards him, anger curling inside him ready to explode.

Blake jumped to his feet and met Royce toe-to-toe. “End this, Royce. End it before this SOB ends it for her and us.”

Luke stepped between them, hands on both of their chest. “Enough. This does us no good.”

“Damn it, Blake,” Royce said, ignoring Luke. “This isn’t the woman you love or you wouldn’t say **** like that.”

”No,” Blake hissed as if burned. “The woman I loved is dead. I don’t want Lauren to join her.”

Royce felt the slap of those words, the instant deflation of his temper. He scrubbed his face and turned back to the glass door, pressing his hands to the surface, feeling more helpless than he’d felt in his entire FBI career.

“Let’s just eliminate suspects,” Luke suggested. “Sheridan’s brother is in Germany. He’s not our guy unless he contracted a professional.”

“Which means he could still be our guy,” Blake said, the chair creaking with his weight. “The one who can call off a contract to kill Lauren, if one exists. Anyone could have contracted a professional. That means the list is too damn long to do this. We aren’t going to get answers quick enough. Gamble on the trial. It’s about this week, about what is current and what is now.”

“Sheridan’s execution” Luke started.

“Has been minutes from happening several times before now,” Blake argued, “and nothing happened. This is about this trial.”

“He’s right,” Royce said, turning around, his gaze touching Blake’s. “You’re right. It’s about the trial. Everything else is a diversion.”

“The trial could be the diversion,” Luke countered. “I don’t think being short sighted is the answer here.”

“Who has the most to lose or gain from this trial or the diversion it might cause?” Blake asked. “The top three names that come to your mind, Royce.”

“The brother,” Royce said. “He hates her. If I had to gamble, I’d put his name in all three spots.”