Undercover Refuge

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  Alessandra could swear that her whole body was sighing with pleasure. “And about that other thing...you might actually be in luck. There’s a little bag inside my big bag, and if I remember correctly...”

  “Say no more.” Rush jumped up and padded across the floor in his underwear to grab her bag, which he lifted and held out. “You want to look?”

  “Go ahead,” she replied. “The other bag’s purple. It should be easy to spot.”

  Alessandra watched him dig through, wondering if the mood should’ve been dampened by the conversation and the delay. If maybe admitting that she had condoms stuck down in the recesses of her bathroom bag should’ve embarrassed her. But it didn’t. And if anything, the syncopated sharing of their histories heightened her desire. She was glad to know a little more about him. She liked what he’d told her. She liked watching his big, strong hands paw through her things in his search, too. It was strangely intimate.

  It’s also taking too long, she thought after a few seconds.

  Anticipation made her squirm a little impatiently. And just when she was about to suggest he either dump the entire bag or bring it to her, he yanked out the purple pouch. He quickly unzipped the smaller bag, freed the small strip of foil packages, then turned her way.

  “It’s Aaron,” he said.

  “What?”

  “My middle name.”

  “Oh. Good to know.” And then he stepped toward her, and Alessandra forgot everything but the rush of need that roared through her.

  Chapter 10

  Rush woke up colder than he expected to be, and his mind drifted sleepily to the fact that he’d been a little negligent in keeping the woodstove going. It was late spring, but with the storm and the higher elevation, it still managed to cool down overnight. If he’d been thinking, he would’ve fed the fire a little more before crashing. But he’d been a little...distracted. Twice. And the distraction was followed by dinner. Then a third distraction. Which led to the tangle of bedsheets where he was now.

  With the intention of fueling the woodstove, he started to push off the mess of blankets, then abruptly realized he had a far better source of heat right beside him. Not bothering to curb his eagerness, he reached out for Alessandra. His hands found nothing but air. His eyes flew open. The bed was disappointingly empty, and seeing it actually sent a strange sense of worry into his gut. He sat up and realized belatedly that the cabin was almost pitch-black.

  “Red?” he called softly.

  When he didn’t get a response right away, the worry spiraled a little higher.

  Cautious and on alert, Rush swung his legs over the edge of the bed and scanned the room the best he could. The curtains were drawn, the stove barely offered a glow, and the sound of rain still raged outside. It’d been a perfect backdrop to the night before. Now it was eerier than Rush cared to admit. Years of experience kept him outwardly calm and utterly silent as he pressed his feet to the floor and stood up. Now that his vision was adjusting the dark, he took another quick sweep of the cabin. Nothing looked out of place.

  Except Alessandra...who should be in place, he thought as he snagged his pants from the ground and slipped them on.

  It was true, though. Aside from the missing redhead, nothing appeared to have been disturbed. It wasn’t like Rush believed someone could’ve come in and whisked Alessandra away without him knowing about it, but he still took inventory anyway. The dishes were where they’d left them. Their clothes were in a heap on the floor. His gun hung from the hook beside the door. His eyes rested on the weapon for a second. He didn’t think he needed it right then, but as he stared in its general direction, he realized something else. The door was unlocked. The slide chain dangled against the wood, and the dead bolt was in the open position.

  Rush exhaled and stepped quickly toward the door. Out of habit, he grabbed his gun and jammed it into the rear of his waistband before putting his hand on the knob. He eased the door open slowly, unsure what to prepare for. But whatever might’ve been in his head, it sure as hell wasn’t what he found.

  Alessandra sat on one of the oversize patio chairs, her feet tucked up under her body, her eyes on the horizon. Her hair was loose, whipping wildly with the still-churning wind. She’d tossed on a shirt—one of his own white ones, he noted absently—but it was already wet.

  How long has she been sitting out here?

  The thought spurred him to action. Forgetting his own state of undress, he strode forward and bent down. Every protective instinct he had was alive and buzzing in a way he’d never experienced before.

  “Red,” he said, the urgency clear in his voice. “It’s cold and rainy and you’re sitting out here without a coat.”

  Her face jerked in his direction, and her cheeks were lined with streaks he was sure were more than rain. She made no move to get up, either. Instead, she held out a soggy white envelope. Rush’s eyes dropped to the object, and it was then that he noticed her legs were bare. It was all he could stand. He didn’t know what had woken her or why she’d come outside. All he wanted was to fix it. So he slid one hand under her knees and the other around her back, and he lifted her up. She didn’t protest. If anything, she tucked hers head against him a little tighter as he carried her over the deck and back into the house.

  Inside, he adjusted so that he could drag a chair to the woodstove. He set her down and wrapped her in a blanket. He added an excessive number of pellets to the fire before he finally pulled up his own chair, then pressed his denim-clad knees to her microfiber-covered ones and at last reached out to take the envelope from her now-clenched hands. She said nothing—just watched him stare it down. He recognized the logo in the right-hand corner of the envelope right away. It made him frown.

  “Where did you get this, Red?” he asked.

  She drew in a shaky breath, then nodded across the room. “That box.”

  Rush swiveled to follow her gaze. He immediately spied what she meant. In the firelight, he could see it just fine. A small wood box. Carved with an indecipherable pattern of some kind, and resting on a windowsill. He frowned a little harder. Had it been there all along? He wasn’t sure. He supposed it didn’t matter if had been, or if she’d dragged it out from somewhere else.

  He turned his attention back to Alessandra. “Do you know what this is?”

  Her head bobbed down, then up, and when she answered, her voice wobbled. “A note from my dad to my mom.”

  It wasn’t the reply he was expecting. “I—what? This is sealed and there’s no name on it.”

  “I know. The other one I found—the one I told you about—it was in an envelope just like that one.” She reached out and tapped the logo. “It had the same mark.”

  Rush stroked his thumb over the same spot. “This mark?”

  Alessandra nodded, then started to tear up again. “I’d show you, but the note got burned in the fire at my surf shop.”

  Rush balanced the envelope on their touching knees and brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. He didn’t know why it made him ache so hard to see her cry, but it did. In fact, it pushed other thoughts—important ones, like things about his case or why her father had access to these particular envelopes—to the back of his mind. He had to force them forward.

  He dropped his hand and pointed to the paper in their laps. “Do you know where that logo’s from?”

  Alessandra looked down. “No.”

  “It belongs to the Freemont City Police Department,” he told her. “Or I guess I should say did belong. It was their logo until twelve years ago. They retired it with the guy who designed it forty years before that.”

  Alessandra’s expression grew puzzled. “It’s a police envelope?”

  “Definitely. Did your dad have a friend on the force, maybe? Or do some work with them?”

  Unexpectedly, she laughed. “God, no. My dad was a ‘fight the man’ type, all the way to the end. He�
��d be so annoyed at me if he knew—” She cut herself off and blushed as he eyes drifted toward the bed. “Let’s just say he’d be less than impressed. He wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. Especially before I was born.”

  In spite of the situation, Rush couldn’t fight a smile. “Rest assured. If things in my life hadn’t been tilted in the right direction, I’d be on the other side of the bars myself right now.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m surprised that you’re surprised,” he teased. “Aren’t you the one who called me a thug?”

  “I said you had a thug vibe,” she corrected.

  “That’s different?”

  “Yes. Because you’re not actually a—ugh. Why are we having this conversation? My dad died a decade and a half ago, you’re a cop, not a criminal, and—” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  Rush leaned over and pulled her into an awkward embrace. “Hey, now. We don’t have to talk about it.”

  She sighed against his chest, and the soft expel of air reminded him forcefully that he was still topless. Thinking he should do something about it before his body wanted to do something else, he started to pull back. Then she spoke, her words stopping his movement before it really got started.

  “Tell me about the tilt,” she said. “What made you become one of the good guys instead of the bad guys?”

  Rush hesitated, but only for a moment. The need to tell her came flooding in. And he was relieved to feel it. Relieved to finally have an outlet for the things he kept bottled up.

  He leaned away enough that he could look down and meet her eyes as he spoke. “It’s funny. Every time I’ve been undercover—which is my whole career, really—I’ve never been able to pretend that he’s alive. I’ve made up dozens of stories about his death over the last ten years. Cancer. Car accident. Heart attack. Jellyfish sting off the coast of Australia. You name it, my backstory dad has died from it.” He paused, his fingers tracing the Freemont PD logo on the envelope while he tried to keep his voice as even as he could manage. “But the truth is, my dad was a cop, too. Back when this logo was still current, actually. Killed on the job.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rush.” Alessandra’s word were infused with understanding, and he was grateful for their sincerity.

  He touched her cheek and went on. “About fifteen years ago, my dad was investigating a drug case. A big one that he and his buddies called a career-maker. The three of them were going over some evidence in a sealed room at the station when a pipe bomb went off. They all died.”

  Alessandra’s hand came up to cover his, and she brought his palm to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the work-roughened center. It sent a jolt of longing through him. It mingled with the relief and made his chest expand in a nearly painful way. Telling her everything was like having a burden—one he didn’t even consciously know he was carrying—lifted. Maybe it was unreasonable. Maybe it made no sense. But it was true nonetheless. He half wondered how the hell he’d managed to hold everything in all these years.

  And he pushed on. “The other two men in that room with my father were my best friends’ dads.”

  “Harley,” Alessandra filled in.

  “Him,” Rush agreed. “Plus his brother, Brayden, and our other buddy, Anderson. We swore we’d get justice for our fathers. We made a pact. And that, Red, was the tilt.”

  “They didn’t catch the guy who did it?”

  “Oh, they did. But the courts didn’t do what they should’ve. The kid got off.”

  “The kid?” Alessandra repeated, sounding startled.

  Rush nodded curtly. “And the kid grew up and—”

  He cut himself off abruptly as a faint sound from outside drew his attention. It only took a second to place it. The crunch of tires on gravel, carrying faintly over the rain.

  “Crap,” he muttered, disentangling himself from Alessandra, who shot a worried look his way as he stood up.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “There’s only one person who knows we’re here, and I think he’s on his way for a surprise visit.” He grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor and slipped it over his head. “You might wanna put something else on, too.”

  Her gaze drifted down, then her eyes widened, and she jumped to her feet. As she scrambled to find her clothes, Rush moved through the cabin and attempted to erase any sign of their more-than-friendly encounter the night before. He cursed his own stupidity. He wasn’t worried that Garibaldi had figured out what Harley had done to his surveillance system; his technophile friend was too good for that. But he should’ve considered the idea that his fake boss might physically check up on him.

  Surprise inspection, he thought sardonically as he smoothed out the bed.

  When he was done, he grabbed his gun and shrugged into his flannel jacket, then cast a quick glance around. Everything looked more or less normal. Except Alessandra, who looked a little too damned sexy for her own good. Even the hastily done, slightly severe bun did nothing to take away from her appeal.

  You’re only noticing because you spent the night looking at her naked, he assured himself.

  He strode forward, gently grabbed her chin, planted a firm kiss on her lips, and said, “Forgive me in advance, okay?”

  He let her go before she could ask for clarification, then moved to the door and flung it open just in time to see Garibaldi reach the top of the stairs.

  * * *

  If Alessandra hadn’t already been anxious about Jesse’s presence, then Rush’s words would still have sent over the edge of worry.

  Forgive you for what? she wanted to ask.

  But Jesse no sooner swept into the room—his sharp eyes taking in every detail and making Alessandra feel like her father had just walked in and caught her making out with her high school boyfriend—than she understood. Rush’s whole demeanor changed. The unwinding he’d done over the last twenty or so hours reversed itself completely. The teasing warmth in his brown eyes had disappeared. The quirk of a smile had vanished, too. He looked rougher and meaner and more sullen even than he had when he’d first fallen into the hole.

  Alessandra actually caught herself lifting a hand up to wipe her eyes, thinking maybe she was seeing things. She definitely wasn’t. It almost made her shiver. She had to swallow against a sudden scratchy feeling in her throat. Logically, she knew he was playing a role. But that didn’t stop her from wondering how he managed to so quickly do away with the man who’d been cupping her face in his hands just a few minutes earlier. Why was it so easy to mask that version of himself?

  But then Jesse turned his attention her directly, and she had to pretend not be noticing any of it. She fixed a look of surprised pleasure onto her face, unfolded her legs and stood up to greet him.

  “Hi!” she said. “You’re up early.”

  Jesse smiled, but his gaze was still sharp. “What can I say, Al? Early bird and all that.”

  Rush cut in, his voice as surly as the rest of him. “Does this mean I’m off the hook? Because I gotta say...some of us aren’t so fond of the worm.”

  Alessandra caught his eye, and she saw a small plea there. He wanted her to play along. She mentally exhaled. At least being complicit in the deception would make her feel like they were working together rather than feeling like he’d just been able to turn off the last day.

  She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. “If you’re calling me a worm...”

  “Relax, Red.” The nickname took on an insulting tone. “I meant that in all its metaphorical glory.”

  “Oh, look at that,” Alessandra retorted. “A word with more than three syllables. Pleased with yourself?”

  “Nothing pleasurable about this,” he said back.

  Jesse looked from Rush to Alessandra, his eyes finally losing their edge. “I actually just came by to make sure I hired the right man for the job. You want me to fire him, A
l? I’ve got a few errands to run, but I can take care of you myself when I’m done.”

  Panic hit her harder than she dared let on. What if Jesse did take over the tour guide role? The thought scared her. And if she was being honest, it wasn’t just because Jesse scared her all on his own. It wasn’t even just that she was worried that she’d never find out what happened with her father. It was because she felt like things were just getting started with Rush. She wanted a chance to see where they would go. Alessandra had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a vehement protest. And thankfully, Rush jumped in anyway.

  “Nah, boss,” he said, his voice tinged with resentment. “I said I’d do this for you. I’ll do it. Have some faith. Besides that, I’ve already got the day mapped out.”

  Alessandra let out the smallest breath possible. “Oh, yeah? Were you going to consult me about the plan?”

  “Might’ve,” Rush replied.

  “Might’ve?” she repeated skeptically.

  “Yeah. Might’ve. After a cup of coffee and some eggs.”

  “I didn’t realize coffee and eggs were an option.”

  “Could be because you were up at the butt-crack of dawn.”

  Jesse sighed like the bickering was boring him, and Alessandra tensed, wondering if he was going to intercede and insist on staying in Rush’s stead.

  Instead he asked, “Did he fight with you like this the whole night?”

  Alessandra fought a blush and made herself answer in a grudging way. “No. We played cards, and he made soup.”

  “He made soup? Now that’s something I’d like to have seen,” Jesse said with a laugh.

  “Stick around and you’ll see me make toast, too,” Rush told him. “Real exciting stuff.”

  The other man shook his head. “Love the idea of you all domesticated, Atkinson, but I’ve got Ernest waiting in the car. So as long as Al’s not too mad about my abandonment...”

  Alessandra shook her head. “I’m fine. I know you’ve got work, and I can handle Rush.”