by Susan Stoker
He clicked on her name and waited.
Surprisingly, the call went to voicemail.
He shot off a text and tapped impatiently on his steering wheel. Rocco had been so excited to talk to her, to hear her voice. Now that he couldn’t, he was disappointed. Not only that, but he was slightly worried.
Caite would be the first to admit that she didn’t have much of a life outside of work, so the fact that she wasn’t answering her phone at—Rocco looked at his watch—ten-thirty at night was worrisome.
He clicked on her name once more and when that call also went to voicemail, made a decision. Starting the engine, Rocco told himself he was just going to check on her. To make sure she wasn’t lying hurt or worse in her apartment, not able to get to her phone.
It was irrational, but Rocco knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t see with his own two eyes that she was okay.
The drive to her apartment went by without incident and soon he was pulling into her parking lot. Looking up at her place, he saw no lights on, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. For a moment, he second-guessed himself. Maybe she was sleeping, and him knocking on the door would scare her. But he shook off the thought. He might frighten her, but he hoped once she saw it was him, she’d be happy.
Taking the steps up to the second floor two at a time, Rocco strode toward her door and didn’t hesitate to knock loudly.
He waited and shifted on his feet, looking around. Everything seemed quiet. There weren’t any late-night parties going on and if her neighbors were home, they were keeping to themselves.
After a moment, he knocked again.
If she didn’t answer, he’d call Rex. The man could pick locks better than anyone he’d ever met. He’d have Caite’s door open within seconds. He could go to the manager, but he didn’t want to have to explain why and listen to the man whine about laws and shit.
When it came to Caite, Rocco didn’t give a damn about laws.
That thought should’ve scared him, but it didn’t. If Caite was in trouble, he needed to get to her.
The second he lifted his cell to call Rex, Rocco heard scrapes behind the door.
She was awake, and unlocking the door for him.
He plastered a huge smile on his face and waited with bated breath to see her again.
But the smile faded the second the door cracked open and he saw Caite.
She looked like shit. Her hair was in disarray and she had deep frown lines on her forehead. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and he could see tracks of tears on her cheeks.
“What the hell?” he said under his breath as he took a step forward. He gently pushed the door open, forcing Caite to take a step back. He entered the apartment and quickly relocked the door. He put his hands on her shoulders, leaned in, and asked urgently, “What happened?”
Instead of answering, Caite burst into tears.
Alarmed, Rocco immediately took her into his arms. She didn’t protest, simply wrapped one arm around his neck and turned her face into his chest.
He could feel the wetness from her tears soaking into his shirt, but it barely registered. He guided them to the couch and sat, putting her onto his lap. He saw the multitude of used tissues strewn about on the floor, and then his eyes immediately spied the medicine bottle on the table next to the couch.
“Caite? Talk to me,” he ordered, more panicked now.
In response, she only gripped him harder.
Taking a deep breath, Rocco forced himself to calm down. Caite was in his arms. She was alive. Everything else, he would figure out sooner or later.
It took a few minutes, but eventually her tears stopped and she simply sniffed. Rocco leaned over and snagged a tissue from the box on the side table and handed it to her. Without a word, Caite took it and wiped her eyes before blowing her nose.
“Are you okay?” Rocco asked after a moment.
She nodded. “I’m okay. I just had a really bad day.”
“I’m sorry, ma petite fée.”
She sat up straighter on his lap and gave him a weak smile. “You’re back.”
“Yeah. Got back tonight. Went to the office for the debrief, then when you didn’t answer your phone, I came straight here. I was worried.”
She looked confused, and then glanced around her. “You called? I didn’t hear it ring. Where is my phone?”
They found it between the cushions of the couch. And it had somehow been turned off. No wonder she hadn’t heard it ring.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said.
“Tell me what happened,” Rocco asked. Then his gaze caught sight of something he’d missed earlier. “What the fuck…?” he asked as he brought his fingers up to her temple. The stitches had been hidden by her hair. He gently brushed the strands away from her head so he could examine the wound more closely.
“The store was held up today,” she said in a toneless voice that worried Rocco. “I gave the guy the money like I was supposed to, but I could tell he wasn’t going to just turn around and flee. I threw myself to the side just as he shot. I hit my head on the shelf behind the counter. It knocked me out, and I guess he thought he’d hit me when he saw the blood pooling under my head. He left, and I woke up when the paramedics arrived.”
There was so much information there that Rocco’s head was spinning. “He shot at you?”
Caite nodded.
“You were unconscious?”
She nodded again.
“Did they catch him?”
She shook her head that time.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rocco swore.
“I’m okay,” she said. “The bullet only grazed me. I’m fine.”
“You were hit?” Rocco exclaimed. “Where? Why aren’t you in the hospital? Damn it!”
She put her hand on his chest and tried to calm him. “It was only a graze. I’m okay. I went to the hospital, they put a few stitches in and let me go. I didn’t have a concussion or anything else, and I didn’t want to spend the night.”
Without a word, Rocco stood once more, ignoring the way Caite stiffened and let out a small screech when he picked her up. He carried her down the hall to her bedroom and sat her gently on the side of her bed. “Let me see,” he demanded.
“Rocco, it’s nothing.”
“You were fucking shot! It’s like my worst nightmare come true! You were hurt, and I wasn’t here to help you. Let me see, Caite. I need to see for myself that you’re okay.”
She stared up at him for a beat, then shifted on the bed and pulled her arm through the long sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. Keeping herself covered—not that Rocco was thinking about anything other than her wound at the moment—she bared her arm for him.
A large white bandage was wrapped around her bicep, and Rocco felt his stomach roll just looking at it. He sank to the bed beside her.
He’d seen a lot of horrible things in his life. Limbs blown off soldiers and bad guys alike, burns so horrific he couldn’t even recognize the face of one of the soldiers who had been fighting with him, and children blown to pieces by homemade bombs—but nothing had made him feel as physically sick as seeing that white bandage on Caite’s creamy skin.
With shaking fingers, he reached for her and slowly unwound the bandage. He just as carefully peeled back the gauze packed around her arm, and then stared at the wound. There were only a few stitches, just as she’d claimed, but he still shuddered when he saw them. The black stitches looking like bug antennas coming out of her skin. The wound was red and puffy and looked painful, even if it was small.
He’d seen wounds like hers before, had received one himself, as a matter of fact. He knew just by looking at the gouge in her skin just how close of a call she’d had, and it made the world tilt under him.
Leaning forward, he gently kissed the skin to the right of the wound, then to the left. He closed his eyes and sat there a moment, trying to get his emotions in check.
“Rocco?”
He opened his eyes and looked at
Caite. She had tears in her eyes once more, and he hated the look of vulnerability on her face. “Yeah, ma petite fée?”
“Can you…would you stay? Just for tonight?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” he told her.
What he didn’t say was that there was no way in hell he was leaving. Even if she would have asked him to, he couldn’t.
He carefully rebandaged her arm and asked, “Have you taken anything for pain?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t eaten anything, and the doctor said not to take them on an empty stomach. I was too tired to get up and make something.”
Rocco hated that too. “Okay. Stay here and doze. I’ll make you some soup. You have soup, don’t you?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to do that. I’ll just get up and—”
Rocco put his hands on her shoulders and eased her to the mattress when she tried to stand up. “I’ve got this, baby. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Her lip quivered and, just like that, the tears were back in her eyes. She shut them, but not before Rocco had seen.
“Caite?”
“I’m okay,” she said after a moment. “I…I was feeling sorry for myself earlier for being so alone. And now you’re here. Helping me. Being nice. I should be asking if you’re okay, but I just…I’ve had such a bad day!” The last words were practically wailed.
Lifting Caite gently, Rocco hugged her to him and let her sniffle some more against his chest. He wanted to do more. Wanted to track down the asshole who’d dared to hurt her, but at the moment, all he could do was hold her and try to make her feel better.
After a while, she pulled back and he lowered her back to the bed. “Better?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay. I’m going to go make you that soup and get your pain pills.”
“Thank you.”
He ran his fingertips down her cheek. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“You really don’t have to stay. I was just having a weak moment. I’m sure you have to go into work tomorrow, and you’ll need your stuff.”
“I have a bag in my car,” he told her. “It’s got some clean clothes and some basic toiletry stuff. I never know when we’ll get called out, so I always have a go-bag just in case. And I’m off for the next two days. Our commander always makes sure we have downtime when we get back from a mission. So there’s nowhere I need to be other than right here.”
Caite licked her lips. “Awesome.”
He smiled. “Yup.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Take a nap. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Waiting until her eyes closed and her breathing evened out, Rocco soundlessly got up and went back into the living area. First, he cleaned up the tissues and folded the blanket that had fallen to the floor. He grabbed her pills and brought them into the kitchen with him, reading the instructions. They were essentially super-strength acetaminophen, which he was glad to see. Not that he’d let Caite get addicted to any hardcore drugs, but he was glad the doctors didn’t think she needed the more potent stuff.
He made a bowl of chicken noodle soup and carried it into the bedroom. He gently woke Caite and simply watched as she ate every bite of the soup. She was quiet and, he could tell, still sleepy. He gave her a pill and she swallowed it without protest. Rocco got her snuggled back down under the covers and sat by her side, watching her sleep.
After what had to be an hour or more, he finally took the dirty dishes back to the kitchen and headed out to his car to grab his bag. When he returned, he put on a pair of sweats and climbed into her bed. He stayed on top of the covers and turned on his side, continuing to watch her sleep.
It took a while, but eventually he fell asleep himself, although unlike hers, his sleep was fitful. He kept dreaming about Caite being shot to death, while he joked and laughed with his friends in a bar across town.
“You’re sure she’s dead?” Isaac Chambers asked the man he’d hired to kill Caite McCallan.
“Absolutely. Last I saw of her, she was lying in a pool of blood behind the counter.”
Chambers paced back and forth in his kitchen. It was late, two in the morning, and he’d climbed out of bed to call and make sure the pain in his ass was finally no longer a threat. “I didn’t see anything on the news,” he said.
“Look, I fucking shot her, just like you wanted,” the man said. “When do I get my money?”
The officer clenched his teeth. He’d hired this guy for the rock-bottom price of a thousand bucks. He didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. Knew his desire for drugs was far and away greater than making sure he did a good job.
“When I get proof that she’s really dead.”
“Fuck. Did you want me to stop and take the time to snap pictures?” the druggie complained.
“Where’s the gun?”
“Threw it into the ocean like you told me to,” the man said impatiently.
Relieved that at least the pistol couldn’t be traced back to him, Chambers said, “Fine. Meet me at the same motel as before at lunchtime tomorrow. I’ll have your money then.”
“Man, I thought I’d get it tonight,” the guy whined.
“It’s the middle of the night,” Chambers growled. “I’m not going to leave my family to drive all the way out there right now. You’re just going to have to find another way to get a hit until I can get you the money.”
“Fine. But you better be here tomorrow.”
“Or what?”
“Trust me. You’ll regret it.”
“Don’t. Threaten. Me,” Chambers enunciated, quietly and deadly.
“Then make sure you’re there tomorrow with my money,” the druggie told him.
Chambers clicked off the phone without responding. “That bitch better be dead,” he muttered. If not, she was either the luckiest person alive, or he was the unluckiest.
Chapter Eleven
A week later, Caite rolled over in bed and smiled at seeing the impression in the pillow next to hers. Since he’d returned from his mission, Rocco had spent every night in her bed. They didn’t do anything other than sleep, but she had to admit that having him there, being able to talk to him until she fell asleep, was like a dream come true.
He was a perfect roommate. He helped cook. Did his own laundry. Made the bed. And most importantly, made her laugh and feel better about the fact she was now unemployed…again.
She’d made the decision the morning after she’d been shot. After having a nightmare about looking down the barrel of a gun, she’d known she couldn’t go back.
Rocco had, of course, supported her decision one hundred percent.
“Take your time getting better,” he’d said. “If you need money, I can help you out.”
“That’s not necessary,” she’d said immediately. “My parents can help if I need it.”
“Where do you think this is going between us?” he’d asked.
“Um…I don’t know?”
“This is more than just dating, Caite,” he’d said. “If you need something, I want to know so I can help you get it.”
She’d agreed simply because she’d been so stunned and happy.
But now that it had been a full week, and Rocco still refused to touch her in any kind of sexual way, Caite was beginning to second-guess their relationship. Oh, he kissed her, but was very careful not to take things any further. Maybe after living with her for a week, he’d ultimately decided things wouldn’t work out between them. Maybe he didn’t feel the sexual tension that she did.
All Caite knew was that sleeping next to him every night was both wonderful and torture. She wanted to reach over and pull his sweats down and see what he’d been hiding from her. She wanted to taste him, to feel him deep inside her body. But he hadn’t given her the slightest inclination that he wanted the same thing. And if she made the first move and was rebuffed, it would be more than embarrassing. It would be devastating.
So she sucked it up and pretended that she was super
tired every night, desperately trying to fall asleep before he came to bed.
It had worked so far, but now she feeling better…and horny as hell. And with him being around all the time, Caite didn’t even have the privacy to take care of herself.
Listening carefully, she didn’t hear any indication that Rocco was home.
He’d gone back to work a few days ago and always got up before she did, making sure to wake her with a chaste kiss to the forehead and a murmured “good morning” before he headed off to meet his team for PT.
Looking at the clock, Caite saw that it was only five forty-five. She still had about half an hour before he’d be back to make her breakfast before heading off to the base once more.
Turning onto her back, Caite closed her eyes and slipped a hand beneath her pajama shorts. The other she eased under her top, pinching her nipple as she imagined what being with Rocco would be like. Would he be slow and gentle? Or would he shove her legs apart and take what he wanted?
Caite didn’t know, but figured she’d like it either way.
Fingering her clit faster, she fantasized about all the things she wanted to do with him.
Her orgasm rose up fast and hard, and Caite arched her back, gasping, enjoying the sensations coursing through her.
After she’d come, she continued to stroke herself slowly, loving how wet she was now and how good her finger felt on her clit. She teased herself, making sure not to press hard enough to get herself off again, just enough to make the good feelings last.
Not sure what made her open her eyes, Caite turned her head toward the doorway—and froze.
Rocco was standing there, light from the living room highlighting his tall, taut body.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his sweats were sitting low on his hips. His cock was hard and long under the material…and she couldn’t help but lick her lips.
Without a word, Rocco pushed off the edge of the door and stalked toward her.
Caite whipped her hand out from under her shirt, but didn’t dare move the other one. Maybe he didn’t know what she’d been doing. Maybe he hadn’t been there that long.