by Julie Rowe
Was it because she was exhausted and possibly still in shock due to the attack and nearly killing a man?
He wouldn’t take advantage, but he also wasn’t going to throw away this opportunity to help her.
Her unguarded words made something else clear.
She still wanted him.
Relief dropped about a hundred pounds off his shoulders.
Don’t get cocky, asshole.
He cleared his throat. “Can we go?”
“Sure.” She headed toward the exit, her pace a little too fast.
He was going to have to break her habit of running away from him when things got hot between them. Maybe tag her with a small tracking device or use her cell phone to find her. No, using the phone was too obvious, too easy to leave behind or disable. He’d have to get creative with the placement of a tracking device.
He wasn’t going to let her run away from him again. Not unless she made it clear things between them were dead. The blushes giving her skin a sexy glow told him that wasn’t the case.
Dozer followed her out of the hospital and into a parking lot. Damn, but her ass looked good in those pants. She’d kept herself in shape, and he knew she went to the gym four times a week. He wasn’t a stalker, no sir.
Her hair was completely white now, with only a handful of brown strands mixed in. She still had a surprisingly young face under the older-looking hair.
The beep, beep of Carmen unlocking her vehicle pulled him out of his cataloguing of her finer features. He got into the passenger side, she got into the driver’s side, and they were off.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
He wasn’t inclined to break the silence—a smart investigator never did, and he needed to find out what was going on in her head.
“Targeting you in the hospital says desperate to me,” she said, breaking the tension. She cleared her throat and glanced at him. “The two men who attacked us, I mean.”
“It was risky,” he agreed. “I wonder if they could have a specific reason to want me gone.”
“If the FAFO was behind it, why would they be feeling desperate or want you out of the picture?”
“We could be too close to a lead or a source of information.”
“What lead? What source? We haven’t found anything new since we wrapped up the contaminated beer case.”
“It’s got to be connected to the storage unit that exploded.” He looked at her, watching as she expertly drove through busy city traffic. “What happened to it and all the stuff that was in it?”
“Your people removed every scrap, every last bit of debris. I think they have it in storage somewhere. I do have pictures of everything, as well as a list of each item collected.”
“They’re probably reconstructing the scene.”
“They have the space to do that?”
“Yeah. After an explosion, it’s a good way to make sure you find all the parts of the explosive. Which can tell you a lot about its creator.”
“Damn it. I should have been notified if something like that was being done.”
“Why?”
“So I could have sent in a tech or two to swab everything and see what grows.”
“You could still do that.”
“If any of the bacteria or viruses are fragile or susceptible to heat or oxygenated air, they’re dead already.”
Dozer studied her tightly pressed lips. “Do you want me to talk to my boss and get him to invite you in to any investigation that’s ongoing?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll contact him myself. I need to make sure this kind of thing doesn’t get overlooked next time.”
She had a point. She did need to develop her network of contacts and a reputation for getting the job done within the law-enforcement community. He had to keep his nose out of it. As much as he could, anyway.
Carmen pulled to a stop in front of his apartment building. He opened his door and was about to get out, but she put her hand on his arm.
“You’re going to a hotel, right?”
That idea appealed to him less and less, but if he didn’t give her the answer she wanted, she might do something drastic, like talk to his boss again and get him stuck in protective custody.
“Yeah. I don’t know which one yet. I need to pack a few things to do so I don’t lose my mind.”
She narrowed her eyes but only said, “Stay out of trouble.”
He responded with a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.” He wanted to invite her in, but it looked like she had a lot to do, and all of it yesterday. He smiled at her, waved, and went inside. It just about killed him to not watch her drive off.
His apartment was plain, with the bare minimum furniture and no artwork or pictures on the walls. Hell, his hospital room had more personality than this place.
He was a fucking moron. He needed more than this sterile existence. He needed Carmen, but he had to convince her of that.
Fuck. He would convince her. He was tired, so damned tired of pretending and staying a polite distance away. Getting shot, then attacked, twice, in the hospital used up the last of his patience. She needed him as much as he needed her, and he was going to prove it to her. The best way to do that was to invade her space.
Dozer packed his larger duffel bag. Bigger than any of his go-bags, this one had enough room for several changes of clothing and a few extras besides. He fired up his laptop and checked his work email, the status of his open cases, and began compiling a list of everything he remembered seeing in the storage unit. Before he forgot, got blown up again, knifed, or shot.
A headache developed at his temples, and his eyes began to droop, but he kept at it. He wasn’t sure how much time he’d have for research or investigative work in the near future. There was a niggling voice in the back of his head pushing him to get things done, figure things out, and arrest anyone left.
Someone knocked on his door, surprising him so much he almost fell out of his lousy desk chair. Had he fallen asleep?
He got up and walked silently to the door to peek through the peephole.
Carmen stood outside, wearing the same outfit he’d last seen her in and a frown on her face.
He glanced at his watch. Eight thirty p.m. How had it gotten so late? He opened the door, and she came in, and just having her in his space gave him a boost of energy. He let it prop him up and support his flagging strength. By the time he closed it, he felt like he’d drank one of those energy drinks full of caffeine and B vitamins.
Carmen fixed him with a hard stare. “You look like shit.”
“Since I feel like shit, I’ll consider myself normal.”
“You’re about as normal as Superman wearing a Kryptonite ring.”
Superman? Was that a compliment?
“Have you eaten anything since getting home?” she demanded.
“No, but—”
“Of course not,” she interrupted. “You probably don’t have any food in this cardboard box.” She strode into the kitchen, opened the fridge, then looked inside grimly. “There isn’t enough food in here to feed a mouse, let alone a big man like you.”
“Big, huh?” he asked. Certain parts of him felt positively heroic.
She glared at him.
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He crossed his arms over his chest. He would rather pull her into a hug, but with the mood she was in, she might slug him or knee him in the balls. He settled with changing the subject.
“What do you need, Carmen?”
“Pack a bag. You’re coming home with me.”
He stuck a finger in his ear to check for something blocking it, because he could have sworn she ordered him to get his shit together and come home with her. He was careful to make his tone tentative when he asked, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said. “Get packing.” She looked at her watch. “You have ten minutes.” Her expression told him if he didn’t hurry up she was going to hogtie him and do it herself.
Dozer went into his
bedroom, picked up his duffel, and deposited it next to his front door.
Carmen stared at the bag. “You already had that packed?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were you going to go?”
He could give her the easy answer—he was planning on going to a hotel—but that would be a lie, and he’d made her a promise. He was going to keep it. “Your place. I thought if I presented my arguments logically, I could convince you it was a good idea.”
She didn’t say anything for several seconds, just studied him. Finally, after glancing at his table, she asked, “Do you want to bring your computer?”
Thank fuck. He got it, then they were out the door, across the parking lot, and in her car. She drove in the opposite direction of her house.
“Carmen?”
“Your boss thinks we’ll be tailed by whoever was behind the attempt to harm, kidnap, or kill you at the hospital. We’re travelling an indirect path to CDC headquarters. There are Homeland agents stationed all along the route who will tail anyone following us.”
“Where are we really going?”
“An apartment in a building where a large number of my staff live. It’s close to headquarters, and the specific unit we’ll be staying in is a sublet, so it isn’t linked to me or anyone else at the CDC.”
He couldn’t see anything wrong with the plan. “Okay.” He rested his head against the back of the seat, the energy she’d loaned him draining away much too fast. “Do you mind if I nap?”
She glanced at him, concern tightening her face. “No. Go ahead. You’re supposed to be resting anyway.”
He was as safe as he could get while trying to shake lose any tails.
He closed his eyes and fell into darkness.
Chapter Five
8:50 p.m.
Carmen couldn’t believe how fast John dropped off to sleep. Seconds. The man had been pushing himself too hard for too long. Then again, that shouldn’t be a surprise—he’d done the same thing in Afghanistan.
He looked almost exactly the same as the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair cut short. Muscles had strained his uniform sleeves back then. He was leaner now, more defined, she realized, letting her gaze take him in. Asleep, he seemed so ordinary, and yet, when he entered a room, he took up space, took it over.
She’d fallen in love with him in less than a day nine years ago.
It had taken only one lie to destroy it.
She hadn’t wanted to believe he’d lied, hadn’t wanted to leave without hearing the truth from him, but it was either leave then or stay embedded with the unit for several more weeks. If she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t trust anyone in the unit, so she allowed her fear to make the decision and left.
Forgetting him wasn’t so easy. He appeared in her thoughts whenever things were stressful or dangerous, and she’d ask herself how John would handle it. She’d modeled her responses after his calm, confident competence until they were her own.
When he’d walked into her office eight months ago, she thought she was seeing a ghost. She hadn’t wanted to deal with her feelings or his, so she hadn’t. Again.
Every day it got harder and harder to ignore the pull toward him. He’d made promises to her, damn it. Pleasurable ones.
If he died… It hadn’t occurred to her that he could die. Until the explosion a few weeks ago. And the shooting. And the two separate hospital attacks.
How badly did she want him? Enough to risk having her heart broken a second time? Because John was doing what he always did. Shouldering all of the risk himself and painting a target on his back.
Well, that wasn’t going to fly this time. She was going to carry her share of the threat, and if he didn’t like it, he could kiss her ass.
Literally.
She drove like she normally would. Sticking to the speed limit and changing lanes well in advance of any turn. She’d taken an offensive driving course a year ago, and the instructor told her she telegraphed her intentions to turn by lane changing too early.
It worked great if you wanted to look like you were driving normally, though.
She kept tabs on the traffic behind her but didn’t see a vehicle that stood out. Damn it. She wanted these guys caught and locked up before they started a fight no one could finish.
Or win.
That was the problem with terrorism and terrorists. They didn’t care who won, as long as everyone suffered.
She stopped at the CDC headquarters’ main building security checkpoint and nodded at the guard, a man she’d known for two years. A minute later, she pulled in and parked in her designated space in the underground parking garage.
“That guard didn’t even look at your ID card,” John growled.
She glanced over. His eyes were still closed. “I’ve known him for two years. He knows me by sight.”
John turned his head and looked at her. “Sight isn’t good enough. It’s not that hard to pass as someone else with the right clothes, hair, and makeup.”
“You’ve been reading too many thriller novels.”
“What the hell are we in but a fucking thriller novel?” He kept his volume low, but his tone was tight. “We’re switching cars in the dark and hiding in an apartment under someone else’s name.” Frustration and pain swam under his words, pummeling them, telling her he was in no way as calm as he wanted to appear.
Patience. “That has to be the most cynical thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
He shifted on the seat but didn’t sit up or lift his head. “Making the top of a terrorist organization’s hit list does that to a person.”
“That’s not why you’re so cranky. You’re in a bad mood because you can’t go back to work until your doctor says it’s okay.”
“I’m fine.”
She almost laughed, but it wasn’t actually funny. “I’m going to check your gunshot wound, your ribs, and your head when we finally stop running around. Want to bet something isn’t so fine?”
“There’s a portable X-ray machine at this apartment?” he asked with mock surprise and more than a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“No, it’s where I keep my Superman cape.”
“I’m amazed you have time to give me a scan. Shouldn’t you be working in an X-ray lab or trauma unit?”
“I love my job at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Please note the word disease.”
“Is this your way of threatening me? Be nice or I’ll sic my pet bacteria and viruses after you?”
“Will it turn off the ridiculous crap coming out of your mouth?”
“Your safety is not ridiculous,” he said sharply.
She closed her mouth with a snap, so angry she was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of her nose. “Get out of the car.” She smiled at him, showing her teeth. “We’re switching vehicles.”
“Yeah, like no one in the history of sneaking around has ever used that ploy,” he said, rolling his eyes as he got out of the vehicle.
“You’re making it very hard to be nice to you,” she bit out as she grabbed his duffel from the trunk.
“What are you talking about? This is me flirting,” he said perfectly deadpan.
He did not just say that crap to her. “Keep this up and recovering from your injuries will be the least of your problems. I’ll shoot you myself.”
After switching vehicles and thirty minutes of circuitous driving, they arrived at the apartment building.
“This is Henry Lee’s vehicle,” she explained. “He lives across the hall from the apartment we’re staying in.”
They went inside, Dozer taking a good look around before going through the front doors.
The apartment was on the third floor, halfway down the hallway. She put the key in the lock and let John go in first. When she would have followed him, he put out a hand to stop her.
Right, how silly of her to expect to just walk in. Her unarmed, injured employee…partner…whatever had to make sure no one was w
aiting in the shadows to kill them.
She waited a few seconds, then heard a quiet “Clear.”
A single lamp shrouded the living area in a pale yellow light. It was enough to see and engage the three sets of locks on the door.
Someone knocked.
Since she was standing right there, she looked through the peephole. “Henry,” she reported to John, who was watching her intently. “Is it okay to see what he wants?”
“He’s your employee.”
“But I haven’t made him show me his ID.”
John rolled his eyes at her.
“See how ridiculous that is?” She unlocked all those locks, opened the door, and held out the keys to the SUV to Henry.
“Any problems?” he asked, pocketing his keys.
“How would I know?” Carmen asked, pouring sickeningly sweet syrup all over the words. “I’m just a figurehead who doesn’t know the first thing about safety, security, or how to look after my people.”
Henry stared at her for a moment, then said over her shoulder to John, “Have a nice night.” He went inside his own apartment and shut the door.
Men. Are. Assholes.
She closed and locked the door again, then turned and looked at Dozer.
He put up his hands in a classic surrender. “What?”
She pointed at the partially open bedroom door. “Take your shirt off and get on the bed.”
She wanted to order him to take all his clothes off. Make sure he was uninjured beyond the mottled marks on his skin. Take away his pain by kissing each bruise until all he knew was pleasure.
Anger and desire rode her hard. That fury should have soured her need, but it just added to it. And that pissed her off even more.
Heat suffused his face, adding color to his cheeks and turning his gaze predatory. He opened his mouth.
“If you say whatever just went through your mind,” she said, not hiding a damn thing from him, “you will regret it.”
He closed his mouth, then, with a meek expression she didn’t trust in any way, he preceded her into the bedroom.
He took off the long-sleeved Henley shirt he wore and waited with his arms held away from his sides.
There was one fresh bruise the size of a man’s fist on his back. It was still red, but in a day or two it would be black, blue, and purple. Carmen took hold of his left wrist and raised his arm until it was over his head.