Rules in Deceit

by Nichole Severn

“For once in your life, call me by my actual name.” A cough ripped up her throat. She jerked in his arms. Once. Twice. Brown eyes, as dark as chocolate, focused on him. “You do remember what it is, don’t you?”

  A smile fought for release. He’d missed her fire. Her attitude. Missed her. They’d been a great team back in Fort Meade. Saving the country one line of code at a time. Back before he’d destroyed everything between them to keep her safe. The smile disappeared. None of that mattered now. Keeping her alive—that was all that mattered.

  “We’ve got to go.” They had to get out of here before whoever had set that bomb realized he hadn’t killed his target. Her lavender-scented shampoo invigorated his senses as she wrapped both arms around him, raising goose bumps on the back of his neck. It’d been a long time since he’d breathed her in. He tightened his hold around her waist. Get her to safety. Find the man using her own program to kill her. Maybe convince her he wasn’t the man she believed.

  “Liz!” Blackhawk Security’s founder and CEO, Sullivan Bishop, shielded his face from the flames as he ran toward them. Braxton had done his homework. He knew the former SEAL had a woman of his own—a JAG Corps prosecutor—but the use of one of his nicknames for her still grated on Braxton’s nerves. Liz didn’t let anyone give her a nickname. The two had obviously gotten close since she’d relocated to Anchorage, and his gut tightened in response. One of the other operatives followed close on Sullivan’s heels. Blackhawk’s disgraced NYPD officer, Vincent Kalani, studied the scene, ready for battle. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Liz wrenched out of Braxton’s grasp, struggling to her feet on her own, all contact between them severed. She brushed debris from her clothing and huffed a piece of hair out of her face. From the outside, it was such an innocent movement, but Braxton understood her tells. He always had. Despite her hard exterior, she’d been rattled. And with good reason. Someone had tried to kill her. But she refused to allow anyone to see vulnerability, especially those she worked with. “But I think it’s safe to say our conference room is not. Was anybody hurt in the explosion?”

  “No fatalities. From what we can tell, most suffered only minor burns and scrapes from the blast.” The forensics expert—Vincent—checked a gash on his forearm, swiping the blood away against his long-sleeve shirt. The muscled, tattooed Hawaiian ran a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair. “Was anyone else in the conference room with you?”

  Liz shook her head. “No. Just the two of us.”

  “Good. As much as I’d like to scour through debris for evidence of who attacked us, let’s get to the street. Then you tell me who the hell detonated a bomb in my building.” Sullivan turned down the long hallway leading past several now-empty offices, a med clinic and the elevators and stairwell.

  “Whoever it was targeted Liz,” Braxton said.

  Liz rounded into his vision. “There’s no evidence proving that bomb was meant for me.”

  Sullivan twisted around, lips thin, hands ready to tear into the person responsible. “You used to work for the NSA, right? Sold classified intel and disappeared?” The CEO closed the distance between them, expression hard, calculating. “How do I know it wasn’t you who set a bomb in my conference room? Some sick game to get Elizabeth back in your life.”

  “I’d kill any one of you before I let something happen to her. Is that a good enough answer for you?” Braxton straightened, surveying Vincent’s position in case the ex-cop made a move, then centered on Sullivan again. “The only thing that matters is this guy is going to keep gunning for her. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “Let’s move out.” Sullivan didn’t take his attention off Braxton. “I don’t trust you, Levitt.” Veins pulsed under the skin of the CEO’s arms as he pointed a dirt-smudged finger at him. “If anything happens to her, I will find you, understand?”

  “I get that a lot.” Despite the threat, Braxton didn’t take offense. Liz had an entire team watching her back. He couldn’t fault the former Navy SEAL for protecting a member in his unit.

  Vincent rounded behind him and Liz to take up the rear with silent obedience.

  The sirens grew louder. First responders had arrived on the scene.

  But Braxton didn’t move. The bomber hadn’t attacked Blackhawk Security. Not directly. The bastard had had only one target in mind, and he was staring right at her. The bomb was just the beginning. Whoever had set it would try again as soon as they realized Liz had survived. And what better way to ensure a target had been killed than enter the building as an EMT or firefighter for confirmation? Braxton lowered his voice, instincts prickling. There was more at stake now. They had a baby to consider. He shifted closer to her, pain radiating at the base of his skull as they made their way down the hallway, and lowered his voice to prevent the security cameras from picking up their conversation. “Listen to me, Liz. We can’t go to the street.”

  “Wow, you do remember my name.” Liz moved to follow her colleagues.

  He threaded his fingers around her arm and pulled her to a stop, holding her against him. The small fires burning around them had nothing on her body heat tunneling through his clothing right then. He covered his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm. “The garage. The only way in is with a key card, right? One exit? He’ll expect us down on the street with the others. Not exiting the garage.”

  “What are you talking about?” She wrenched away from him as though his touch had burned her, his fingertips tingling from the friction against her jacket. Those dark brown eyes locked on him. One second. Two. Wisps of her uneven exhales tickled the oversensitized skin along his neck as she turned on him. “You’re insane if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”

  Damn her stubbornness. One day it was going to get her killed. And then where would he be? He couldn’t find the bastard hunting her down without her. No matter how many times he’d tried to keep his distance, every road, every move to stay off the Feds’ radar had led him to Anchorage...to her. He didn’t care that her program might’ve already recognized him and reported his location to the NSA. He wasn’t going to leave her unprotected again.

  The floor rumbled underneath his feet. The explosion had most likely damaged the building’s structure. They didn’t have a whole lot of time.

  “We need to get moving.” Vincent stepped toward them as Blackhawk Security’s CEO disappeared into a cloud of smoke toward the stairwell. Close enough for Braxton to reach out and touch him.

  He didn’t want to have to do this, but the hard determination in Liz’s gaze said he didn’t have any other choice. “All right. If you’re not going to come with me willingly—” Braxton spun, wrapping his grip around the Sig Sauer in Vincent’s shoulder holster, and twisted the weapon out of the cop’s reach. With one hard swing of the butt of the gun to the operative’s head, Vincent went down. Hard. Braxton hefted the gun up, attention leveled on the shocked woman in front of him.

  Liz lunged for the unconscious operative. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m kidnapping you. Once the bomber realizes you’re not dead, we lose the upper hand.” He pointed to her jacket with the barrel of the gun. “Toss your sidearm. Please.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to leave him here?” Digging beneath the leather, she tossed her handgun to the floor.

  “Of course not. Rescue is already on the way.” He kicked the weapon out of her reach and motioned her to her feet. “Head for the garage.”

  “You should shoot me now, because I’m sure as hell going to shoot you when I get the chance.” She rose slowly, expression controlled, voice dropping into dangerous territory. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed on him. Exhaustion—maybe a bit of pain from the blast—broke through her movements as she stepped around the unconscious forensics expert at her feet.

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” The muscles in Braxton’s arms and neck tensed. In the thousands of times he
’d imagined this moment, this wasn’t how he’d expected their reunion to turn out. But there was a killer on the loose, and he wasn’t about to lose her again. Not Liz. And not their baby. She shifted in front of him. Every second she stayed out in the open notched his blood pressure higher. “I’m trying to save your life, damn it. Trust me.”

  “Stop asking me to trust you.” Liz headed for the stairwell, fire reflecting in her dark gaze. “I’m still trying to get over the last time you betrayed me.”

  Chapter Two

  A wall of cold slammed into Elizabeth as they hit the parking garage. Only a handful of Blackhawk Security vehicles waited in their assigned spaces. There was no mysterious bomber waiting to ambush them as Braxton had suggested upstairs, but the illusion of safety never settled.

  Could have had something to do with the fact the man she’d thought she’d loved all those months ago—the man whose child she carried—had a gun pressed against her spine. Smoke still registered on the air, the flashing of emergency lights bouncing off the cement walls from the street. There were only two ways out of the garage, and a bomb had taken out one of them. The other was the gate leading to the street, but she didn’t reach for the key card all operatives were required to carry. And she wouldn’t. Not until she had some answers. Scanning the SUVs, Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks. “What’s the plan now?”

  “Now we get out of here.” Braxton pressed his hand into the small of her back, bringing her into his side as he moved them toward one of the SUVs. His natural scent wrapped around her, but she didn’t find comfort there like she used to. “Don’t suppose you brought a set of car keys?”

  “Must’ve left them in the jacket that doesn’t smell like smoke.” Pain washed through her. She glanced down at the gun aimed into her rib cage then quickly back to their surroundings as they closed in on the nearest SUV. Safety still on. Interesting. Sweat dripped down her spine as rain struck the cement at the edges of the asphalt. Him coming back here, the explosion... Her pulse throbbed at the base of her skull. This was insane. That bomb could’ve been meant for any operative on the team. For all she knew, it could’ve been meant for him. So why come back? Blackhawk Security wasn’t in the habit of filling in the authorities on their clients, but her boss should’ve made an exception for Braxton Levitt. The NSA wouldn’t stop looking for him. He’d never be a free man as long as treason charges were on the table. “What makes you think whoever set that bomb is targeting me?”

  “Someone tortured your project supervisor and hijacked Oversight.” He kept his attention on the prize ahead, occasionally studying their surroundings as they moved. Ten feet until they reached the nearest SUV. His expression tightened beneath the shadows cast from the baseball cap. “Call it instinct.”

  “Tell me you’re joking.” Elizabeth ripped away from his touch and shoved him away. He wouldn’t use the gun on her. This entire kidnapping was a charade. “That’s not enough evidence to insert yourself back into my life. You left, Braxton. You lost the right to pretend you care about anybody other than yourself.”

  The green-gray eyes she’d been trying to forget for the last four months locked on her, those mountainous shoulders deflating beneath his heavy brown jacket. “Liz—”

  The stairwell door slammed closed behind them. Braxton twisted back over his shoulder, hefting the gun up and over toward the imagined threat. He stepped in front of her as though he intended to protect her from harm. But he wasn’t a protector. No matter how many times he claimed he’d come back to keep her safe.

  Thrusting her knee into the back of his, Elizabeth pushed him forward. The gun dropped to the pavement, metal on asphalt loud in her ears as he fought to balance. Lunging for it, she barely wrapped her fingers around the grip before he pulled her upright, his grip on her wrist cutting off circulation. Damn, he moved fast.

  His breath fanned across the sensitive skin along her collarbones. Warmth spread from her neck up into her cheeks as he held her close, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. A mouth meant for spilling lies. “I’m not here to hurt you, Liz. I would never hurt you.”

  Did she really have to remind him there were more ways to hurt her than the physical? He’d destroyed her career, gotten her pregnant and disappeared. It wasn’t until Sullivan Bishop and the Blackhawk Security team had offered her a place as their network security analyst three months ago that she’d started pulling the shattered pieces of her life back together. Without them, who knew where she would be right now.

  “Let me go.” She fought to free herself, but Braxton only held her tighter. Once upon a time, she would’ve enjoyed that strong grip around her. Her insides instantly clenched. Now, the only thought running through her head centered on getting as far from him as possible. “What do you want from me?”

  Her hand shook around the warm steel of the gun. She couldn’t let him get inside her head.

  “I want you alive, for starters.” He pressed her against him, his fingertips leaving impressions in the small of her back. He studied her from forehead to chin. “If that means I have to knock you unconscious and throw you over my shoulder, I will.”

  Air rushed from her lungs. The sincerity in his gaze, in his voice... He meant it. A short burst from one of the police sirens tensed the muscles down her spine but brought her back into the moment. “You actually believe someone is trying to kill me?”

  “I have the proof.” Braxton released his hold on her wrist but let her keep the gun. Offering her a hand, he gave her the space to make the choice for herself. “All you have to do is trust me.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” Every cell in her body urged her to take his hand. The sharp angles to his jaw, the heavy five o’clock shadow, the slight bend in his nose where he’d broken it playing football one summer, even the thin slice of scar across his palm where he’d slipped on ice in elementary school... It was all so familiar. Comforting. But she didn’t know this man. The Braxton she’d known never would’ve deserted her in the first place. She forced her attention to his eyes. “If I agree to go with you, you will answer every question I have.”

  “I give you my word.” His voice dropped an octave. Sensual, compelling.

  Her chest tightened on a deep inhale. She loosened her grip around the gun, the tingling sensation in her fingers subsiding as she leveled her chin with the asphalt. Handing over Vincent’s stolen Sig Sauer, Elizabeth drew back when his fingers closed on top of hers. In an almost militaristic manner, he cleared the loaded round, dropped the magazine, slammed it back into place and chambered another. No. Whoever stood in front of her wasn’t her Braxton. This man was hardened, muscled. Dangerous. She exhaled against the nausea churning inside. “And when this is over, you’ll crawl back to the rock you’ve been hiding under for the last four months. Are we clear?”

  The lines etched between his dark eyebrows deepened. He dropped the gun to his side, so casual she’d believe he’d handled a firearm all his life. Which wasn’t the case. “Do you remember what I said to you that first day we met?”

  The words forced their way forward from the back of her mind. Her throat tightened around the memory of her first day of working for the NSA, the day she’d met him. She swiped her tongue across her dry lips. “I sat down at the desk next to yours with my ice cream from the cafeteria, and you made fun of my choice of topping.” Rainbow-colored sprinkles. The nickname he’d called her ever since. A smile pulled at one edge of her mouth. “Then you said, ‘One thing you need to understand here, Sprinkles. This place will eat you alive. Stick with me, and no matter what happens, you can count on me to get you out of it.’” A hint of smoke coming off his clothing singed deep into her lungs as she focused on him. “And I believed you.”

  “Do you still believe me?” he asked.

  Yes. No. Her stomach flipped. If someone was trying to kill her, she wouldn’t stand around here all day waiting for it to happen. “I don’t know what to believe.”


  Movement registered in her peripheral vision at the automatic gate. A firefighter. He’d presumably been assigned to check the rest of the building for signs of structural damage and flames. Dressed in full protective equipment, including face shield, he stopped just outside the gate and tried to pull it up manually. Wouldn’t work. That gate didn’t open for anybody unless they worked in the building. He’d have to get the fire code from her boss, Sullivan Bishop. Stiffness drained from the muscles around her spine a split second before the gate lifted on its own. “Everything okay down here?”

  Braxton turned, maneuvering the gun behind his back. Out of sight.

  “We’re fine. How’d you get in? That gate is supposed to be sealed.” Warning bells rang loud in her head. That wasn’t right. Nobody could access that gate—not even emergency personnel—without a Blackhawk Security operative key card or individualized code. She dropped her voice as the firefighter advanced. Too fast. Alone. “Braxton...”

  The firefighter lifted a handgun and took aim. At her.

  A strong hand pushed her to the ground as a bullet ripped past her ear. The garage turned on its axis. Braxton took position in front of her as he returned fire. Pain shot up through her knees, loose asphalt ripping holes in her leggings, but Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. Digging in her jacket pocket, she wrapped her hand around the keys to her company SUV near the shooter and hit the panic button.

  Headlights flashed; the alarm blared. It’d only distract the shooter for a few seconds, but that was all she needed. The gunfire died. She shoved to her feet and sprinted for Elliot Dunham’s SUV. Blackhawk Security’s private investigator usually left his keys in the front seat, and she silently prayed he hadn’t changed up his routine. “Come on!”

  Footsteps echoed close behind her as bullets two and three barely missed their mark. Chunks of cement nicked at her exposed skin, and she raised her arms to protect her face. Wouldn’t do a damn bit of good against a bullet, but instinct and adrenaline drove her now. She rounded the tail end of Elliot’s SUV and wrenched the door open. No keys. She dived inside, ripping the visor down. The keys dropped into her lap.