Wyatt: A steamy contemporary military romance (Project Arma Book 5)

by Nyssa Kathryn

  Okay. Maybe Wyatt was right. Maya had enemies. It would be best if he was there for protection.

  “Yeah, you should come in. But you need to stay behind me.” She studied his face for a moment. “And try not to look so big and threatening.”

  Wyatt put a hand to his chest. “Me? Big and threatening? I think you have me mistaken for Hunter or Cage.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all fit the bill. At a hundred feet tall with pounds upon pounds of muscle, you’re walking Arnies.”

  “Arnies?”

  “Arnies. Arnold Schwarzeneggers.”

  He chuckled. It was a deep chuckle that she felt right down in her core. “You didn’t seem intimidated that first time we met.”

  That’s because she was tough as nuts. Also, because the man was sex on a stick. “I don’t scare easy. I’ve got balls of steal.”

  “With a job as an investigative journalist, that must be true. Your brother must worry about you.”

  He did. She still remembered the early days when Mason would call her every other day. After some time passed, the calls had dropped off to weekly.

  “Mason’s a stress-head. I’m hoping Sage will bring some calm into his life.”

  “He has good reason to stress. Although, I think Sage lessened it to a degree. She’s a very calm person. Some might say your complete opposite.”

  Quinn shoved his shoulder playfully. “Okay, funny man.”

  “I like to think I am.”

  He was. It was one of the things she liked most about him. Not that she would be telling him that and inflating his ego any further.

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  She’d never actually asked him about his family. When she thought about it, she actually knew quite little about the guy. Especially considering how much he knew about her.

  “No siblings. My parents thought I was perfect, and their job was done at one.”

  Quinn laughed out loud. He actually did seem pretty perfect to her, so his parents wouldn’t be wrong. “What are your parents like?”

  “Awesome. Both retired but spent most of their lives working as high school teachers. Very hard-working people who love each other to death.” He paused to look at her. “That’s what I want. A love that lasts a lifetime.”

  There was an intensity in the way he looked at her. The smile slipped from her lips. “My parents were exactly the same. I would love to experience a love like that.”

  Reaching over, his hand wrapped around hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry you lost them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And maybe you will one day.” When she looked at him with confusion, he continued, “Experience a love like that.”

  That was the dream. To love someone so hard that it lasted forever. That not a day passed where she felt alone.

  Just then, Wyatt slowed the car to a stop. For the first time in a while, Quinn looked out the window and studied her surroundings.

  They’d pulled outside a large apartment building. It looked incredibly old and rundown. Dangerous. In fact, the whole area looked dangerous.

  “Are you sure this is it? The place doesn’t look safe for a single woman.”

  If she didn’t have Wyatt by her side, no way would she feel comfortable being here.

  Wyatt unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m guessing she left New York in a rush and wasn’t able to take much with her. She’s probably also paying in cash and not using ID. That would limit her options in terms of rentals.”

  Guilt hit Quinn hard. She wasn’t responsible for the other woman—heck, she barely knew her—but if Quinn had realized Maya was living here, she would have at least tried to convince her to come to Marble Falls. Offered her a safe place to sleep.

  Maybe the inside looked better than the outside. But Quinn wouldn’t be holding her breath.

  Stepping out of the car, Wyatt led them into the building. The moment they walked inside, she struggled not to gag at the overwhelming stench. It was a cross between mold, urine, and tobacco.

  Her stomach rolled.

  Wyatt reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. His touch was instantly calming.

  Making their way up the stairs, they moved slowly. Along the way, she heard muffled voices from behind closed doors. Some were raised. Some aggressive.

  Her hand tightened around Wyatt’s.

  If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say the building was filled with deadbeats and drug dealers. And it made her feel sick to her stomach that Maya was living here.

  Wyatt came to a stop in front of a door. Instead of knocking or trying the handle, he stood there for a few seconds, a focused look on his face.

  A moment passed before Quinn realized what he was doing. Listening. Listening for people on the other side. Breathing. Footsteps. Possibly even a heartbeat.

  “There’s no one in there.”

  Quinn’s heart sank. She was too late.

  She was about to walk away when Wyatt’s hand went to the door. He turned the knob and pushed it open.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “She left it unlocked?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart sank further, but this time accompanied by a tinge of fear. Fear for the other woman’s safety.

  There was no way Maya would have left her door unlocked if she was still living there. Not a chance.

  Wyatt took a step inside and Quinn followed. She closed the door behind them before stopping in the middle of the living room. She glanced around the apartment. The kitchen sat to the left, and a bedroom and bathroom were to the right.

  The place was almost bare. A worn couch with dark stains sat beside her, and there was an old wooden table in the kitchen. She could see a sagging bed with a mattress in the bedroom. No sheets. No pillows.

  Any thread of hope Quinn might have been harboring that the other woman had just popped out was dashed. No one was living here.

  When she glanced up at Wyatt, she saw a frown marring his brow. Tension was coming off him in waves.

  “What is it?”

  His eyes settled on the doorway that led to the hall, his frown becoming a scowl.

  Before she could even interpret his next action, he grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. “A sensor.”

  She attempted to peer around his large body to see what he was seeing, but she noticed nothing unusual.

  Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the apartment as the door was kicked in. Two men entered. Large men, dressed head to toe in black.

  Fear crawled its way up Quinn’s throat. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, she was certain it would beat right out of her chest.

  The men weren’t carrying weapons that she could see. They probably didn’t need to. They were the weapons.

  Without missing a beat, Wyatt pushed Quinn behind the couch and stepped forward.

  For a moment, no one moved a muscle.

  Then she watched in horror as an explosion of violence erupted in the room.

  Wyatt leapt forward, throwing punches. Deflecting strikes.

  The men moved just as quickly. Blow upon blow was thrown, all in Wyatt’s direction. He blocked each and every one. All three men moved like machines.

  At one point, one of the men pulled out a gun. It was as if Wyatt knew what was coming. Before the other guy had a chance to use it, Wyatt swiped the weapon. In the process, he broke the man’s arm.

  The man cried out in pain and Wyatt took advantage, spinning him around and snapping his neck.

  Quinn was too shocked to feel sickened by what she saw. A numbness had entered her limbs.

  While Wyatt held the limp man in his arms, the second man dove toward her. He was less than a foot away when Wyatt grabbed him and pulled him back.

  The two wrestled and grunted. Their movements almost lyrical. Whenever one man raised an arm, the other anticipated it. Blocked the move.

  Finally, one of Wyatt’s punches landed, sending the man in black to the floor. Wyatt then lunged a
t him. At the same time, the man in black whipped out a knife and slashed at Wyatt’s midsection.

  Quinn cried out as blood began to seep from his stomach.

  The injury did nothing to stop him. Wyatt slammed his fist into the man’s gut, the knife falling from his fingers and sliding toward Quinn. Without thinking, she lifted the knife and held it out in front of her.

  She looked up just in time to see Wyatt punch the man’s throat before grabbing him in a chokehold. Wyatt held him tightly until the man in black stopped moving, his body going limp.

  The room suddenly shifted from chaos to stillness. For a moment, Wyatt remained on his knees. He didn’t even appear to be breathing heavily.

  When he stood and turned, his face was clear of any expression. He took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

  Her? He was asking if she was okay? The man had just fought two assassins. He could have died…

  “I’m okay.”

  He studied her face. Almost like he was assessing whether to believe her. “Can I have the knife?”

  She looked down at her hand. The knife was still pointed forward. The fact that she’d been holding it was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Wyatt could have easily taken it from her. He was asking for it to make her feel like she had control. To make her feel safe.

  Turning the knife, she offered it to him, handle first. He took it from her fingers gently, before reaching for her hand. “We need to get out of here. Are you okay to walk or do you need me to carry you?”

  “I’m okay to walk, Wyatt. I’m not about to break. Let’s get out of here before any other lunatic murderers come.”

  Chapter 15

  Wyatt closed the door to his apartment.

  Frustration sat like a rock in his gut. He hadn’t wanted Quinn to see that part of him. The part that could kill a man with his bare hands. Choke the life right out of him.

  But she had.

  She’d said she was okay, but her silence on the way home had been deafening. Not only her silence; she’d also barely touched her dinner. It had only been drive-through, and they’d sat in the car to eat it. She’d simply fingered the food in the container.

  Wyatt moved into the kitchen. Luckily, he healed fast, so the cut across his stomach was already looking a lot better than earlier. Dried blood matted his skin. He needed a cold, hard beer followed by a long shower.

  Opening the fridge door, he pulled out a bottle and uncapped it.

  When Wyatt had offered to stay with her, Quinn had said she was tired. But a fear had started to unfurl in his gut, that her wanting to be alone had more to do with wanting space from him.

  Quinn had probably written about death a hundred times, but never witnessed the act herself. Seeing it was completely different.

  And he hated that the death she saw had been at his hands.

  Wyatt downed half the beer in one go. He’d called his brothers on the drive home to let them know what had happened. He’d also found out that Kye, Oliver and Bodie, were flying over to Portland to take first shift watching Green Pharmaceuticals. They were probably already there.

  Wyatt needed a shower. He needed to wash away the stench of death. Placing the half-empty beer on the counter, he headed toward the bathroom.

  He was partway there when he heard the door across the hall opening. Then footsteps. A light knock sounded.

  Moving to his door, he pulled it open and his gaze collided with Quinn’s.

  She looked exactly the same as when he’d left her. The blue dress still flowed around her body, her hair was still pulled up into a high ponytail, and she still wore the same unreadable expression on her face.

  “Are you okay?”

  Quinn’s concern took Wyatt off guard. She was asking him if he was okay, when she was the one with shadows under her eyes?

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. In the car, that is. I was in my own world.” She spoke quickly. Like she was trying to get all the words out as fast as possible. “I didn’t think. I should have thought. I mean, you have a huge gash on your stomach, for Christ’s sake. If I had a cut that size, you would have checked on me the moment we were safe. And then there’s everything else that happened. I didn’t even ask how you were feeling—”

  “Quinn.”

  She abruptly stopped speaking.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it. “I…no. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

  Disappointment swirled in his gut. He was careful to keep his features masked. Just because he wanted to be close to her, didn’t mean she wanted to be close to him. “I’m okay.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. Her arms folding across her chest in a defensive stance. “Are you sure? There was a lot of blood on your shirt. Actually, there still is a lot of blood on your shirt. We didn’t even put a bandage over it after…” She waved her hand around. “We just got in the car and started driving. Maybe we should have stopped at the hospital. Can you do that? I don’t know—”

  “Quinn.” Wyatt interrupted her again, unsure when her nervous rambling would end. “I’m okay. It wasn’t a deep cut and my body heals quickly.”

  He peeled the shirt from his skin, lifting the material.

  She took a step closer, surprise flashing across her face. She went to touch his skin, but pulled her hand away before she made contact. “There’s barely a mark.”

  “The wonders of altered DNA.” He lowered his shirt but kept his gaze fixed on her. “Come in. I’ll make us a drink. We can sit in front of the TV and keep each other company.”

  And my desperate desire to check that you’re okay—that we’re okay—can be fulfilled.

  It wasn’t just that he wanted to figure out where he stood with Quinn. Twice now, she’d almost died. Two times in less than twenty-four hours, she would have died had he not been present. And that was terrifying.

  Her tongue peeked out of her mouth and wet her lips. She seemed to consider his words, and for a moment, Wyatt was hopeful.

  Then she took a step back. “I should get home. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  The blank mask remained on his face. Not an ounce of the disappointment that tore at him showed.

  He watched as Quinn turned around and walked back inside her apartment.

  Cursing under his breath, he headed to the bathroom. He hoped this wasn’t the end for them. Hell, their relationship had barely begun.

  He didn’t know what thoughts were running through her head, whether it was shock at what she’d seen, fear for her life, disgust at what he’d done.

  For all he knew, it could be a combination of all three.

  Stripping his clothes off, he stepped under the spray of water and immediately began scrubbing the blood from his body. The water below his feet turned a light shade of crimson.

  The color of pain. Death.

  Killing had never come easily to Wyatt. It was an unfortunate necessity in his field of work. He’d enlisted when he left high school because he’d wanted to help people. Save lives. Studying IT, like his parents had wanted him to, hadn’t felt like enough for him. He might have been happy in the short term, but unfulfilled in the long term.

  Unfortunately, to save lives, you sometimes needed to take the lives of others.

  Wyatt was good at fighting. Good at killing. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

  Quinn closed the door and pressed her forehead to the wood.

  The last twenty-four hours had been a lot. She’d thought she was okay. Leaving that apartment, she’d told Wyatt she was okay. But every minute that had ticked past in the car became heavier.

  The haze of death and danger in Maya’s apartment was one she was sure she’d never forget. Wyatt had killed two people right in front of her. To save her. To save them. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be standing where she was. She’d be dead.

  Turning around, Quinn slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs.

  This was Wyatt’s world. At lea
st, until his enemy was destroyed. Did it get easier for him? At a certain point, does a person just become numb to the violence that stalks them?

  Scrubbing her hands over her face, Quinn took a few deep breaths.

  If there was anything she could take away from today, it was that life was short. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. Hell, the next hour wasn’t guaranteed.

  So then what the heck am I doing sitting in this apartment by myself?

  Quinn didn’t want to be alone. Not after she’d come so close to death. She wanted to be with Wyatt.

  Not just talking to him. She wanted to touch him. Feel the heat of his skin against hers. Remind herself that they were both there. Living and breathing.

  Screw it.

  Standing, Quinn left her apartment and marched up to Wyatt’s door. The knock sounded loud in the evening quiet.

  While she waited, the nerves tried to sneak in, but she pushed them down.

  When the door finally opened, her jaw dropped. Wyatt no longer wore the stained white shirt and jeans. Instead, a towel hung low on his hips, water droplets running down his body…down his thick chest and wide shoulders and the toned muscles lining his arms.

  Every inch of Quinn’s body heated with awareness. Any part of her that had still been wondering if this was a good idea vanished.

  “Quinn—”

  “Kiss me.”

  Shock washed over his features. Then a hand brushed through his hair. “Maybe we should talk about—”

  “I don’t want to talk. Or worry. Or strategize. I want you to grab me. Pull my body against yours. And kiss me.”

  Wyatt’s gaze heated. A few seconds passed while he remained still. They were nervous seconds. Seconds where Quinn wondered if he might just turn her down flat.

  Then, with lightning reflexes, he lifted her from the floor and into his arms. His lips landing on hers. Firm and sure.

  Her nerves turned into passion. And she was lost. Lost in a sea of Wyatt.

  Locking her feet behind his body, she ran her fingers through his silky hair.