Dancing With Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 10)

by Olivia Jaymes

  There was a noisy exhale, probably from frustration. Well, that made two of them, but then he took several steps back. She could breathe again but she already missed him being close. The scent of his body still hung in the air around her. It was the exact same one he'd used all that time ago and she took a deep lungful, letting the warm aroma fill her with some sense of wellness. She only associated it with the good memories.

  "I was pretty good for that first week but then I started not sleeping well, having nightmares, and general anxiety. I became paranoid about the pizza delivery guy. I wasn't sure that woman in the grocery store wasn't casing the joint for a robbery. I didn't like to be out after dark and I really didn't like going to the office. When I was there I was sweaty, jittery, and scared. I couldn't get any work done, of course, and others noticed. I wasn't the only one that was having difficulties. One day I couldn't take it anymore and I walked out. Went home and cried for a couple of hours. Management called and offered me some time off. I didn't take it. Instead, I quit. I knew that I couldn't go back there. They offered to send me to another branch but I was such a mess I turned that down, too."

  Noah opened his mouth and then snapped it back shut, but this time she took pity on him.

  "What did you want to say?"

  "The job in Chicago..."

  Ah yes, that job.

  "I was offered the job a few weeks after my interview but by then I didn't want it anymore. I was in limbo. I couldn't do the job I had anymore and I didn't want to do the job I'd been offered." Mallory turned to stare out the window again, watching the leaves flutter in the breeze. "I guess the bank didn't want me to sue them or something like that, so they offered me a settlement and I took it. It gave me a cushion to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. For about a month I watched a lot of television and stocked up on home security devices like cameras and motion detectors. I took intense self-defense classes and learned to shoot a gun. I vowed that I was never going to be a victim again. And yes, Noah, I saw a therapist. My friends, including Mallory, insisted on it."

  Stopping to take a breath, she studied Noah standing only a few feet away. He'd said very little - mostly because she hadn't allowed him to - and she could tell he had about a hundred questions.

  "Go ahead," she urged, crossing her arms over her chest as a sort of armor. She could take whatever he tossed out. "You have questions. I'll try and answer them."

  "I don't want to interrupt–"

  "Yes, you do. Go ahead. I can finish my story later. I'm over the hardest part, actually."

  Although whether the story had a lovely happy ending was still up in the air.

  "Is that why you're a pottery artist now? Because you quit?"

  As questions went, it was a fairly innocuous one.

  "It was a suggestion from a friend. It started out as a way to deal with my anxiety and it quickly turned into a career. I'd started pottery in my teens because my stepmother did it and I found it relaxing. For the next month or so I spent almost every waking moment in the studio. She had a friend that had connections in the art world and the next thing I knew I was being offered a chunk of money for what I'd produced. Since I was out of work and the money wasn't going to last forever, I took a leap of faith and started my own business. It allowed me to not have to look for another job because believe me, I was in no shape to do that."

  "And it's worked out?"

  "I can support myself, if that's what you're asking. I also have enough flexibility that I was able to come to the wedding earlier than everyone else to help Mallory with the last-minute details. So yes...it's worked out."

  It had been the one bright spot in all of this darkness.

  "And the criminals? They're in jail?"

  That question wasn't as easy.

  "Yes, they're in jail." She gripped the edge of the windowsill. "I had to testify at their trial."

  She shivered as she remembered how the leader of the trio had watched her while she was on the stand. Outwardly he'd looked cool and calm, but there was hate and violence in his eyes. She'd been sitting in the courtroom when the verdict had been read and he'd been led out in handcuffs, as he'd passed by the row she was sitting in, he'd stopped and given her an icy grin before the bailiff urged him forward.

  Kenneth Andrew McGuire.

  That was his name. Six feet tall, brown hair, light blue eyes, a small scar on his eyebrow, and a tattoo on his forearm of the sun and the moon. She'd had to recite that in court under oath because his lawyer had tried to convince the jury that she had mistaken him for someone else.

  If only she could.

  Plus, it sure as hell hadn't been anyone else who had surrendered to the cops that day.

  McGuire's mother had also come to the trial every single day just as Liz had and she'd sat behind her son, sniffling into a tissue whenever someone said anything negative about him. When Liz had testified, it had been full on waterworks. Liz's therapist had recommended attending the trial saying that she might get closure from it. That didn't happen.

  "So it's over?" Noah asked. "They're behind bars."

  He didn't get it at all. Hadn't he been listening this entire time? Was she speaking a foreign language? She'd just told him she was a mess.

  "They're behind bars but that's the thing you don't understand. It's not over, Noah. It may never be over. I'm scared all of the time. Do you know that I check the cameras around my house before I step out of the studio to walk the twenty feet to my back door? Do you know that I sleep with a gun on my bedside table? That's if I actually sleep, of course. Some nights I can't sleep at all. I'm screwed up and I'm not that person that you met that night. Libby is gone and that's why I don't use that name anymore. Because I've changed."

  It was simply far too much to ask him to understand. Frankly, no one did.

  She was alone for this.

  11

  Holy fucking hell.

  Yes, hell. That's what Liz had been through the last two years. He'd had no idea. All this time he'd wondered if she fallen for another man, got married, maybe even had a baby but instead she'd been holding on to sanity with her fingernails.

  He remembered waiting in the airport for his flight and that woman pointing out the news on CNN. Hostages at a bank in Denver. He'd never thought...

  Never in a million years had he thought it was Liz. If he'd known...

  He was pissed, irrationally angry that he hadn't been there to help her through all the shit she'd been thrown. All this time she'd been dealing with this basically on her own.

  He hadn't realized he'd made a growling sound until her eyes widened and she'd taken a step back.

  "What's wrong?"

  It didn't make any sense but he'd say it anyway.

  "I'm mad that I wasn't there for you. I wished you had called me or something."

  Her expression relaxed and her lips turned up at the corners. "Called you? How? We didn't even exchange last names, Noah. Whether we did that on purpose or by accident, it didn't change the situation. I didn't have any way to get a hold of you and you didn't have any way to get a hold of me. That was what we decided. We talked about it and we agreed. Neither one of us could have predicted what I walked into that day. Every one tells me it was a fluke, a million to one shot. That I should live a charmed life from now on because the horrible thing has already happened to me."

  There was some logic there but he wasn't sure she was free from heartache. However, they might be right about being the victim of a violent crime. She had probably hit her statistical limit.

  "Do you believe them?"

  Clearly, she didn't if she was packing heat everywhere she went, so it was a stupid question.

  "I don’t know the odds. I'm guessing if a person gets hit by lightning, they aren't going to play in a thunderstorm because they've already been hit. They'll probably stay inside after that."

  He had so many questions, he didn't even know where to go next.

  "Are you still seeing a therapist?"


  Hopefully she was because it sounded like she had some issues to work on.

  Sighing, she shook her head. "You sound like Mallory. My therapist moved to another state and I haven't gotten around to replacing her. I liked her a lot and it's a big pain in the ass to interview new ones. I told her I'd do it when I go home after the wedding."

  Noah didn't even want to think about her going home. He'd only just found her again.

  "Do you have to hurry back to Denver?"

  Liz took a step closer but then hesitated. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss away all of her doubts. He was desperate to show her that he'd never forgotten.

  "Are you asking me to stay, Noah? For a second time?"

  "Yes."

  The answer was simple and straightforward. They'd been given the gift of another chance.

  "If I stay and you get to know me, you might end up not liking me anymore."

  He couldn't even imagine that scenario.

  "It's a possibility," he admitted. "But I have a feeling that it's a remote one. Worst case we realize that what we had won't survive in the real world. Best case..."

  His voice trailed off but they both knew what he was saying. They could fall in love. He'd started two years ago and it wouldn't take much to pick up where he'd left off.

  "I'm not sure that's the worst case." Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm a mess. I know that I have problems. I never feel safe and I don't think that's normal. It sure wasn't how I lived my life in the before. That's how I classify everything now, by the way. The before and the after. You're the before."

  He shook his head. "I'm also the after and I'm not scared off, princess. Your problems aren't insurmountable. We can work on helping you feel safe. Together."

  "I may be beyond help."

  "I don't think so," he replied firmly. "I think you've had a really shitty couple of years but I can see that you don't want to be this way anymore. If you did, you wouldn't be saying that you're a mess. Give me...no, give us another chance. Go out on a date with me. You might even have a good time."

  She wanted to say yes. He could see it in her eyes. But there was fear there as well.

  "I don't want to disappoint you."

  "You won't. This is on me. If it doesn't work, then I only have myself to blame since you warned me."

  "I suppose a date wouldn't hurt..."

  It might even be pleasurable.

  "Whatever you're doing, forget about it and let's have some fun."

  That pronouncement came from Mallory's smiling lips as she stood in the doorway of Liz's bedroom.

  "What?"

  "I said let's have some fun. Am I interrupting anything?"

  Liz had been checking the security cameras around her home in Denver. She hadn't seen anything except a squirrel running along the back fence, but that hadn't stopped her from staring at the images for the last twenty minutes. Before that she'd checked the windows in her room to make sure they were locked.

  Such a social whirlwind. Later, if I'm feeling wild, I might check the windows in the kitchen, too.

  She'd warned Noah that she wasn't much fun at parties anymore. He'd stayed for awhile and they'd talked a bit, but then Mallory had come home and he'd politely exited. Before he'd left, however, he'd reminded her about their date tomorrow night.

  I have a date with Noah. I never thought that I'd be able to say that.

  "Nothing that won't wait. What kind of fun did you have in mind?"

  "Does it matter?"

  Not really, no. Even if it did, Mallory was the bride so Liz's job was to make sure that she was happy and having the time of her life.

  "I'm all yours. What did you have planned?"

  There was some giggling from the hallway and then two more heads popped into the doorway - Leanne and Dizzy. Leanne was Carter's cousin and Dizzy was married to Easton, Noah's twin.

  "Girl's night," Leann announced, holding up a green bottle with gold foil. "Bubbly champagne, doing each other’s hair and nails, and eating ice cream."

  Dizzy nodded in agreement. "Definitely champagne. Pink champagne. Are you in?"

  It had to be better than what Liz had planned, which was nothing.

  "I'm in."

  "Pajamas and cocktails," Mallory said with a mile-wide grin. "It's a pajama party. So put yours on and meet us in the living room."

  The one thing that hadn't changed from the before in Liz's life was her love for cute pajamas. At home, she had a whole drawer filled with them, some just the pants and others a full set. For the winter there was flannel and the summer a light cotton, in every conceivable color and pattern. Liz was especially fond of red plaid flannel when it was cold outside.

  Tonight she chose a blur jersey pajama pants and paired it with a bright orange t-shirt from hers and Mallory's alma mater. Slipping fuzzy socks on her feet, she also pulled her long hair up and off her face and into a ponytail before scrubbing the makeup off of her face.

  When she left her bedroom, she saw that the others had done the same. Leanne was wearing a pink pair of sweatpants with white polka dots and a white t-shirt. Dizzy was wearing purple pajamas with tiny white puppies holding hearts, and Mallory was, of course, the most glamorous one in a pair of red satin pajamas that looked like they'd been made for her. Even her toenail polish matched.

  "You're lucky I like you so much."

  "Really?" Mallory asked, bracing the champagne bottle on her stomach before opening it. "I do feel lucky but I'm guessing that's not what you were referring to."

  "You look amazing. As usual." Liz said it with a dramatic sigh. "Could you take some pity on the rest of us?"

  "You look amazing, too." The cork popped and she quickly poured the champagne into a glass to stop the foam from going everywhere. "You all do. In fact, I'd say we were four fine-looking chicks."

  "I agree," Dizzy said, her expression solemn. "Tami says the greatest gift you can give yourself is self-acceptance and love."

  "Who's Tami?" Liz asked, accepting a flute of bubbling pink liquid.

  "My mom. She's full of wisdom, but I would imagine that many mothers have that trait as well. Leann's mom is pretty smart, too."

  "She is," Leann agreed. "I swear she can see the future. She's spooky that way. Now how about a toast? Everyone raise your glass to Mallory and Carter. May they live a long and happy life together. And have lots and lots of hot sex."

  Mallory giggled and clicked glasses with the other three. "I'll drink to that. I know that Carter would as well."

  The bubbles tickled Liz's nose and the cool elixir slid over her tongue and down her throat. Delicious. She loved champagne, although she didn't drink it often except at weddings and New Year's Eve.

  Leann sipped at her champagne and then set it on the coffee table. "You know...Dizzy can sort of predict the future, too."

  "No, that's not true," Dizzy denied with a shake of her head. "I cannot predict the future."

  There was a moment's silence and then Dizzy groaned, rolling her eyes. "Leann thinks that I'm psychic. I'm not, I'm just very intuitive."

  "She can tell when a house has spirits," Leann said. "When I was looking to buy a home, I took Dizzy with me. I didn't want to buy anyplace that was haunted."

  Mallory shrugged. "I don't believe in ghosts. What about you, Liz? Do you believe in ghosts?"

  "I think," Liz replied slowly. "That there is more to this world than what we can see, hear, or touch. I think that I'd like to believe there were ghosts. I'd love to talk to one, someone from the distant past. Wouldn't that be cool?"

  Dizzy was nodding but Mallory was shaking her head.

  "I don't want to talk to a ghost. That would be...creepy. They're...dead."

  "Sort of," Liz agreed. "But they're kind of alive too, because their spirit is still intact. Only their body is dead."

  "It seems like you've given this some thought," Mallory observed. "I didn't realize that you believed in hauntings."

  Liz had given it some thought. She'd had hours sitti
ng in that bank vault while a gun was pointed to her heart. If that didn't make a person think about life and death, nothing would.

  "I'm an enigma wrapped in a riddle and dipped in hot fudge sauce."

  The other women laughed at her joke, which was a relief. She could only hope it would serve to help ease the way to change the subject. She wasn't a fan of the topic, to be a hundred percent honest. Mallory knew about Liz's past but the other ladies didn't. Mallory had been through danger herself when she'd been the focus of a serial killer, so she could understand what it meant to fear for her life.

  A knock on the door had Leann bounding to her feet. "That's the pizza. I thought we might be a little hungry and want real food in our stomachs before we eat all the chocolate and cheesecake Dizzy made."

  "Dizzy's an amazing baker," Mallory said, causing Dizzy to turn a lovely shade of red. "I love everything she makes. Except the rhubarb and strawberry pie, of course. I'm sure it's good but I'm not going to eat it."

  Mallory was allergic to strawberries.

  "More for the rest of us," Liz said, her stomach gurgling as the aroma of tomatoes and garlic wafted under her nose. She hadn't eaten much earlier because she'd been far too nervous and anxiety-ridden. Now her appetite was reminding her that she liked to eat. "That smells so good."

  "Excellent," Leann pronounced. "I was afraid no one would eat because of the upcoming wedding, and the dresses, and all that jazz."

  "Are you kidding?" Mallory laughed. "I'm all over this. Should I get some plates or can we eat right out of the boxes?"

  It was decided that plates weren't needed but paper napkins were. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, demolishing two medium pizzas. Not bad for women that hadn't even thought they were all that hungry.

  Dizzy nibbled on a piece of crust. "We couldn't help but notice that you and Noah went off to the gazebo today. I don't want to be nosy or anything but I think we were all sort of surprised about that."

  Liz wasn't quite sure how to respond and Mallory didn't say anything, either. The silence stretched on and Dizzy's gaze whipped back and forth between the two women, her eyes growing round as she realized she'd inadvertently opened a can of worms.