by Nicole Vidal
“Not that I’m aware of. When Stan gave me the file seven months ago, it was just a standard internal Quinn Sterling file. Nothing special about it other than the sheer volumes of information. Unless there are some subfolders on the server I didn’t have access to, I haven’t seen anything that looks like a ledger. Did William say anything?”
“Yes, some of your neighbors have video surveillance and caught some images of the assailants at your townhouse. He’s going to send over some photos. They were also able to get a good image of the tattoo. That plus the fact that you injured him, they’re hopeful they will find out who he is by cross-checking with hospital admissions.”
“I’m still pissed they drugged me. It isn’t as if an ordinary woman doesn’t know how to twist out of a forearm grab.”
“I’m sure they have an entire file about you, including the extent of your training. Nothing about you is ordinary. You’re brilliant, ambitious, and stunning.”
Her eyes sharpen at the compliments, but she only responds with the blush of her skin and a small nod. I choose not to call her on it.
“Is there anything of significant value at your townhouse that should be removed and secured elsewhere for now?”
“Only things of sentimental value, and that’s assuming they didn’t destroy them looking for this mysterious ledger.”
“I can have Maia pack up whatever is salvageable if you want.”
“Very little isn’t replaceable. Although, I worked really hard for my—”
“Shoes.”
The smile she gifts me is genuine, one I haven’t seen in the last few days. “I was going to say my car.”
“Liar. Your luxury shoes and lingerie are sexy and seductive. They’re part of who you are.”
“Maybe I should have Maia get them if you love them so much.”
“I do, but how much isn’t pertinent right now?”
“I don’t need her at risk for whatever is recoverable at my townhouse. The only important item, you protected for me.” She leans forward and kisses me deeply. So much so that I think we just vaulted over the razor-thin, blurry line we’re walking with our words, our mouths, and our bodies.
Just after lunch, the snow slows enough to start clearing it. A few random flurries won’t impact the progress of removal. Despite my gentlemanly intention to keep her safe in the house, Norah insists on helping. I relent only after setting a few ground rules. She needs to stay within my line of sight and Tank follows her.
We trudge to the shed and dig out the tractor to plow the driveway. With each pass, I check on Norah who is shoveling the walkway to the front porch. I’m fairly confident we’re safe here and the tracker has thrown the Moretti family off. The last place they were searching for her was somewhere in New Jersey—a fact I purposefully neglected to mention when I gave her the update earlier. Nothing will make me relax until the bounty is removed. I have Blaine looking into Mr. Sterling and the other partners at the firm.
As I finish the parking area, I move Connor’s truck over and clear around it. Norah and Tank walk in front of me toward the back walkway that leads to the deck. On my last pass with the tractor, I don’t see Norah. My heart rate increases. If she were only a client, I would never ever allow her to help. She would be safe in the house doing nothing. We wouldn’t be here either. I would have selected another location, something that is less comfortable for her, further away from my real life. Nothing about her or this situation is playing out normally with security protocol. I park and move around the house looking for her. When I reach the corner of the house, she beans me with a snowball. The tension in my chest eases almost immediately, at least as it pertains to her safety.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” I ask when she cocks her arm back to throw another in my direction.
“Why not?” she asks with a devilish glint in her eyes.
“You saw me throw the ball for Tank. I won’t miss.” Bending down without taking my eyes from hers, I make two snowballs for myself.
“True, but throwing a ball for your dog and hitting a wide receiver at thirty yards is something else. How long since you played?”
“You aren’t thirty yards away. Did you just call me old?”
She giggles. It’s a wonderful sound that reaches deep into my soul. “No, I’m suggesting you may be rusty hitting a target, and you’re making an assumption—”
“Such as?”
“You assume I can’t throw because I love La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Louboutin, and Manolo Blahnik.”
“Maybe I am. Are you going to prove—” My words are cut off by a snowball hitting me center mass, immediately followed by another in my left shoulder.
“Would you like to select where I hit you next?” Clearly, she has some skills throwing—from where, I have no idea.
“How many more do you have stockpiled back there?”
“Enough.” She’s armed with another snowball, ready to lob it my way. At this point, I have no doubt she will hit me.
I consider my options, none of them are ideal.
“You have two shots there. Take them.”
She’s goading me. I lift my arm, ready to throw. The moment it leaves my hand, she jumps down the short staircase and runs into the yard. My throw hits the railing. Instead of giving chase right away, I peek at her stockpile. She was out. Vixen!
I follow her footprints to the base of a large tree. I can’t believe the treehouse is still here. Connor, Mara, and I would spend hours just hanging out in this tree. Mara. This moment is the first time I’ve thought about her since we arrived at her childhood home. As I start to climb, Norah runs out from behind the tree back toward the house. I drop to the ground. She has a few strides lead.
“You’re clever, but I’m faster than you.” I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against me before we fall into the snow.
“Maybe I let you catch me.”
I press my lips to hers. “I wouldn’t have given up. Where did you learn to throw like that?”
“All-state shortstop for four years in high school.”
“Impressive. What other hidden talents do you have?”
“I guess you will have to stick with me and figure them out.”
The moment the words leave her mouth, I feel her tense in my arms. Damn!
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have….” She pushes herself up and hurries away from me.
Chapter 17
Norah
I plod back to the walkway and grab the shovel. What were you thinking? I wasn’t. I was feeling. I was being honest. Wordlessly, I walk past Jacob to the shed, replacing the shovel where it belongs.
“Norah,” he calls from his spot in the yard. I raise one hand and walk back to the house, Tank hot on my heels.
Get it together, Norah! I chastise myself as I walk directly to the guest room, stripping off the outer coat and boots. I hear the door close, and Tank runs out of the room.
Moments later, Tank returns, but he’s not alone.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
He steps in front of me, his right hand cupping my cheek. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I promised I could be with you and not…. I can’t. I may say something else I can’t take back.” How on earth am I going to be near him but keep myself in check now?
“I won’t push you to talk, but I care about you.”
“So you’ve said, but you aren’t looking to be mine, or anyone’s for that matter.”
“Norah, it’s complicated.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“You said you would explain why. I’ll wait until you do, but I need some space to regain my composure.”
“Norah, I—”
“Please just give me some space.”
Jacob presses his lips to my forehead before leaving the room. The tears fall the moment the door closes. I knew this would happen, but I needed his help. I had no one else to call. I wouldn’t be alive if I tried to r
un on my own with a tracker imbedded in my neck. I can’t even talk to anyone right now.
There’s a soft knock on the door. As I set my hand on the knob and twist, he starts talking.
“Don’t talk too long. You could probably talk to Kelsey longer than Kelly, if that matters.” He claims he doesn’t want a relationship, but he certainly does the right things—the forehead kisses and knowing I need to talk to someone, even if it isn’t him.
I attempt to thank him, but the words catch in my throat. Opening the door, I find the hallway empty and the phone on the floor. A few calming breaths later, I dial.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Kelsey.” I’m sure William filled her in about my situation.
“What happened, sweets?”
“I….”
“Oh, Nor. Gorgeous, piercing blue eyes Jacob Blackthorne is the guy?” Until now Kelsey knew there was a regular exceptional booty call, but not who.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since your wedding.”
“Wow, you both hid it well.”
“I thought I could handle it. Who doesn’t want spectacular sex with no strings attached?”
“You… at least not anymore.”
She isn’t wrong. I was so focused on my partnership. I didn’t want anything or anyone in my life to slow me down. Now, my life is in complete chaos. I have no job, my townhouse trashed, and I’m on the run with the one man I want but can’t have for the rest of my life.
“All kidding aside, what’s changed?” she asks.
“Circumstances and proximity. Before, there were no feelings, at least on his end. His kiss shifted from hot and passionate to reverent, melt into a puddle inside and outside the bedroom. I had almost everything I worked for, and now I’m starting over, except for the man in the next room… ugh!”
“You know the answer, sweets.”
“I just… he’s just so many of the things. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, the pieces fit, even the prickly ones. The ones no one wants to talk about: the past, the damage, especially the messy. Do you need me to say it?”
“No.” I exhale sharply. “I need to suck it up or tell him that I broke my promise. Then let the dominoes fall, even if it smashes my heart into a million tiny pieces.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Love you, Kels.”
“Love you, sweets. Take care. Hopefully, I can see you soon.”
I fall back onto the bed and consider what she said. I just needed someone else to say it. Can I be with him without a commitment? Don’t I already have one? Not an official one.
The real question is how to handle him now. If I’m headed for heartbreak, I might as well go in with my eyes open and my body humming with pleasure. Resolved to deal with the pain later, I clean up and head out into the kitchen. Apparently, my words didn’t only mess with my head and my heart. They messed with Jacob’s too.
“Where is he, Tank?”
Tank walks to the top of the basement stairs and sits.
“Thanks, boy. Let’s leave him alone.” I scour the kitchen for ingredients for dinner.
At least one of Connor’s parents knows how to cook well. The spice rack has almost everything I could ever need. I pull out some sausage, rice, and broccoli. After I set the meat to defrost. I search for dessert ingredients. At this point, I’ll settle for a box brownie mix since I can’t really drink an entire bottle of cabernet. After a successful search, I have the ingredients to make a spice cake with cream cheese frosting. When I turn to throw the broccoli stems away, a car pulls into the driveway. I hustle down the stairs. Jacob is sitting on the weight bench, head in his hands, dripping in sweat. Holy hell! It isn’t going to get easier, Norah!
His head pops up, his eyes meeting mine. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s someone here.”
He whistles for Tank and asks me to stay put. At first I sit on the landing but move almost instantly. Time to suck it up, sweets. I pace the floor, unsure what else to do. I’m sure whoever is here isn’t after me.
I hear Jacob talking to someone, likely a man based on the tone of voice. He opens the doors and releases Tank, who runs up the stairs.
Chapter 18
Jacob
Six years. I’ve spent the last six years on my own. No attachments, no relationships until her. I slam the weights onto the bar and repeat on the other side. I was clear from the beginning with Norah. Until her text, I was fine. Two or three times a month, I saw her. A few months, it was more. Sometimes I stayed; other times I didn’t. Five reps, then a break. I can’t blame her. I don’t blame her. I’m confused too.
I need to protect her. Comfort her. I find myself touching her even though I know she’s my client. She was never just a client. Five reps, then a break.
Hurried footsteps pull me out of my scattered thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s someone here.”
“Please stay here.” I lean forward to kiss her but pull back. Her sharp inhale makes my chest ache. For the second time today, my heart is in my throat. I grab a towel on my way up the stairs. I’m failing her. I’m off my game, unprepared for this situation. I let my guard down. I’m unarmed. I hear the faint tones of the alarm system. Whoever is here knows the alarm code. My trepidation decreases a bit. No one who knows that code is a threat to Norah.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” I ask, stepping into the living area.
“I could ask you the same thing. Good to see you, son.”
“Working. Norah is a friend and now a client. My plan A was compromised, so Connor suggested here. You?”
“Ed and Joyce are travelling. I came to shovel them out. How long have you been here?”
Connor’s parents are away on a tropical vacation for their anniversary.
“Two days. Let me get Norah. I’ll be right back.” I exhale slowly. Everything is fine, at least pertaining to her safety. When I open the basement door, Tank turns his head my way. I release him, and he runs up the stairs. I hustle down the stairs. Norah is sitting with her legs crossed and her feet atop the other leg.
“Everything okay?” she asks without moving.
“Yes, it’s my dad. He came to shovel. You can come up.”
“Thanks, I’ll be up in a minute.”
I move away from her and sit on the weight bench.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” she says without moving or opening her expressive eyes.
“I know.” I’m still working out earlier today, and now my dad is here. Norah and I can talk later.
She slowly releases her feet and throws her arms over her legs, gripping her feet. After a few moments, she gracefully stands. I can only watch her.
“What is your dad’s name?”
“Ben.”
“Same last name?”
“Yes.” No one has ever been astute enough to ask that question. Then again, I don’t share anything about my life…with anyone. When I set my hand on her forearm, her eyes lift to mine. The storminess has lessened since she asked for space. Whoever she called talked her through her feelings enough that she has regained her grasp on them. Whatever she’s feeling, she has locked it up. Where that falls on the spectrum of good and bad, I’m not sure. “Thank you, Norah.”
“Of course.”
I follow her upstairs. Ignoring the sway of her perfect hips is impossible. My head, my dick, and especially my heart are screaming different things. My head settles on there is a way to work this out. My dick is standing at attention, even though I may never touch her again—never feel her shudder beneath me or the soft press of her lips on mine. My heart is a much more complicated mess right now. When I pull myself out of my thoughts, I notice Norah has kept walking.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blackthorne,” I hear Norah say to my father.
“Ben, please call me Ben.”
Norah moves into the kitchen and starts cooking. It looks as if she was
preparing dinner before she rushed downstairs.
My dad takes a seat at the island. “My son was a tad sketchy on details. He mentioned you are a client.”
Norah gazes up at me, looking for permission to share whatever she chooses to. “Yes, he has worked for my sister. I contacted him for help during a break-in at my townhouse.”
“Son, why don’t you go clean up? I’ll keep Norah company.”
I look to Norah, and she nods almost imperceptibly. If anyone can provide backup, it’s my father. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s armed.
“Thanks.” I move down the hall to the bedroom. Hurrying through the shower, I clean up quickly. As I towel off, I notice the mountain of white tissue in the trash. I made her cry. My heart shreds just a bit more. There is no scenario where I can split my focus again. I was committed to the army and Mara. I failed her. I should have been here to protect her, and I wasn’t. I will never repeat that mistake again. I failed Mara, and I refuse to fail Norah. Shoving my thoughts aside, I dress and rejoin them in the kitchen.
Chapter 19
Norah
The availability of cute childhood stories and mischief are almost too much to ignore. But I can’t let myself get more attached to Jacob. He doesn’t want a relationship. Wrapping my head around that again and separating out my feelings isn’t going to be easy.
“You failed to mention that you were also all-state in high school,” I say as Jacob approaches from the hall. Despite my efforts otherwise, I note his damp hair, his shirt clinging to his impressive chest, and athletic shorts low on his lean hips. You can’t have him!
“You didn’t ask,” he states, moving behind me to the sink. “What are you making?”
“Risotto with sausage and broccoli.”
“Can I help?”
“I can do it.” I can’t handle you close to me right now, especially with an audience.
“I insist.”
Stifling the sigh and frustrated huff I desperately want to unleash, I turn toward the sink, and Jacob does as well.