RELENTLESS

by HelenKay Dimon

Ben held the door open for Jocelyn as they left the cafeteria. When he realized she matched her stride to his, he slowed down. Longer legs meant he ate up more space and he didn’t want her running. The goal was to stay steady and keep her safe. Calm didn’t hurt, either.

  The thud of their shoes supplied the only noise between them. People passed and conversations swirled around them as the clanking of silverware from the cafeteria faded behind them. He hadn’t said much. Well, not after verbally spilling his guts out upstairs.

  He swore under his breath, unable to understand his uncharacteristic lack of control. He had no idea why he had gone off on the tangent or told her so much. He’d never been one to talk just because.

  With his upbringing, he had learned to hold things in and overcome them. No whining. That was his father’s motto. His father had not exactly been the cuddly type, and Mom dying before Ben hit elementary school hadn’t loosened the guy up.

  If Jocelyn wasn’t afraid of him before, she would be now. Ben wondered if maybe she should be.

  Every time he thought he’d found his emotional footing, something new knocked him off-balance. A follow-up story about the pending trial. Something his father said to the press. The way people looked at him when he walked down the street. He saved it up, didn’t talk about it, but something about her icy blue eyes and the way they saw through him had him opening up.

  She played with the lid of her cup, tracing her fingers around the outside rim. “You okay?”

  Great, he could tell by the careful placement of her words she was back to pity. Just what he didn’t want. “I believe it’s my job to ask those questions.”

  She smiled up at him. “The bodyguard thing.”

  “That’s why you’re tolerating me, right?” Man, he wanted her to deny it. But if she mentioned the kiss, he’d be all over her, and that was a level of unprofessionalism that could get them both killed.

  She shook her head instead. “Just keep walking.”

  He pulled her closer to him, pinning them against the wall as a large group of what looked like family passed in almost a straight line. They took up much of the wide space and didn’t seem to care. Since the move gave him a second to be squished next to her, he wasn’t complaining.

  They started moving again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He’d spent a lifetime saying it. The words rolled off his tongue without thinking now. “Came with the uniform.”

  “There’s a reason women love those, you know.”

  He thought about the one in his closet and seriously considered offering to model it for her. He’d try anything to get her clothes off in bed with him at this point. “I believe my recruitment contract said something like that. The promise of many women wanting to pet my jacket if I put on the dress blues.”

  She nodded as that smile grew wider. “Nice image.”

  He’d lived his entire life by a strict set of rules. His father’s career took him from base to base, city to city. He never stayed long enough to set down roots. Some psychologist would likely have a field day assessing why, after all those years of despising the constant moves, Ben had followed in his father’s footsteps.

  And now he listened for others.

  Around corners and down hallways, Ben heard the soft tap of shoes behind them. When he tested his theory and sped up their pace, so did the echo behind him. By logic, whoever it was should have slipped by them when he pulled Jocelyn over to let the family pass. But that didn’t happen.

  Now as they turned a final corner and headed down the straight passage for the more open area of the elevators, Ben pretended to sip his coffee all while peeking up at the mirror set in the corner. “This tastes awful.”

  He spied the person immediately. With his nondescript expression, black clothing and bulge in his unseasonable jacket, the man was very similar to the guys who had been following and attacking Jocelyn.

  They were all cut from the same pattern. Probably because whoever hired them bought their services at the same place.

  Finding a mercenary for hire was far too easy, especially in this area, so close to Washington, D.C., where many disenchanted law-enforcement and military types lurked. Some of these guys did solid work, protection and security, but not the group coming after Jocelyn.

  “I didn’t promise you good coffee.” Her voice still rang out sunny and strong.

  That was good. He needed her calm and temporarily oblivious to the danger swallowing up the air around them. The sooner the guy behind them knew he’d been spotted, the sooner he would attack. Ben wanted to stall. He needed time to maneuver them into a less public position.

  But Ben had to warn her. Give her a second to prepare for what he knew from experience could go haywire. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Must have been his voice, maybe the softer tone, that grabbed her attention, because she stared up at him. “Okay.”

  “This is easy.”

  Her smile faded as the seconds ticked past. “Name it and I’ll try.”

  “No, no. Keep smiling and don’t change your steps.”

  Her hand tightened on the cup, threatening to pop the lid off. “What’s happening?”

  “Probably nothing.” Something. Oh, definitely something. When she started to turn around and look behind them, Ben touched her elbow. “No.”

  Coffee dripped down the side of her cup, running over her hand. The steam rose but she didn’t even flinch. “Level with me. This is bad, right?”

  “We’re going to be very careful.” He scanned the area up ahead. A few people milled around by the elevator. That meant he had to protect Jocelyn and take care of the civilians. Not an easy task when he had heaven knew how many weapons pointed at him right now and a two-hundred-pound bruiser to wrestle.

  He studied the exits. Elevator banks on both sides and an emergency stairwell just beyond. Then he looked at the double swinging doors to the hallways of innocent people on the other side. No way could he lure the guy that way. Far too many chances for casualties and a low percentage of success.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” Her voice shook as she asked the question.

  He thought about downplaying the adrenaline rushing through him but his heart hammered too hard for this to be a coincidence. “I think we’re being followed.”

  He slowed them down, letting the four people hovering by the elevator get on and the doors close behind them before they reached that point. That took a few potential victims out of the way but left his biggest concern vulnerable. Jocelyn. He had to shove her out of the way and hope his shot hit.

  One more test first.

  They hesitated at the elevator doors. Handing her his coffee, he pushed the button. Stepping on there with the assassin guaranteed death. A confined space and no way out. Bullets would fly and the chances of not being hit were slim, if not impossible.

  The man came up behind them. Close enough to violate their space but not right on top of them. He didn’t shift or say anything. He stared straight ahead.

  Ben kept his body between hers and the other man. When he saw the guy put his hand in his pocket and his gaze slide to the security camera above the elevator doors, Ben knew their time was up.

  Pushing Jocelyn to the side, he moved her away from the elevator right as the bell dinged. Coffee splashed and the man grunted.

  They’d gotten two steps closer to the stairwell when the man pivoted and followed them. No guessing now. He had the gun out and his arm rose.

  Ben turned but Jocelyn was faster. She whipped around and launched both cups of coffee right at the guy. Looked as if she aimed for his head.

  The liquid arced through the air. The guy threw up his hand but the hot coffee hit him dead in the face, splashing over his body and streaming to the floor.

&nbs
p; The man closed his eyes as drips hung from his hair and leaked into his eyes. He swore loud enough to send security running.

  Ben didn’t wait for a better time. “Move, Jocelyn.”

  He gave the order as he kicked the emergency door open and with a shoulder rammed into the guy’s back shoved him through. The attacker spun and his gun dropped.

  A ping rang out as the bullet left the chamber. The weapon bounced down the steps to the next landing as a woman screamed a few flights up.

  Ben ignored the tearing along his recent wound and the pull at his waist as he hit the guy again. Another shot and he could go right over the metal railing to the bottom. Ben picked the gun instead.

  With a hand on the guy’s back, doubling him against the rail, Ben pressed the barrel of his gun against the guy’s shoulder. Against his firing arm.

  He was too close, right on top of the attacker. Ben knew if the guy could get his balance or wiped the burning coffee from his eyes, he might be able to perform a punishing tackle or throw. As it was, he just hung there, panting and heaving, but not saying a word.

  The heavy door clicked shut behind them and Ben backed up to lean against it. The last thing he needed was Jocelyn coming through the door to rescue him. The coffee had been quick thinking.

  Once again, she zigged when he worried she might zag. The zig had made all the difference.

  “Who sent you?” he asked, not expecting a response.

  The man lifted his head. Coffee ran down his face and red streaks stained his cheeks. Those dead eyes were bloodshot and teary.

  Score one for Jocelyn.

  “Go to hell.” The attacker no longer held a gun but he had a knife. Probably slipped it out of its sheath as he stood there trying to regain control over his breathing.

  Ben remembered the other guy saying the same line and steadied his weapon. “Gun beats knife but try again.”

  Rather than take a swing, the guy turned and half slid, half ran down the stairs. His knees buckled and he grabbed for the railing. A squeak rang out as skin rubbed against metal.

  Ben was on him. He grabbed the guy’s shirt and they both went down. The bruiser took most of the impact because Ben kept him under him. Legs hit the walls and thudded against the steps. They rolled and the world spun until momentum slammed them against the cement block on the landing below.

  Ben heard people talking as they walked up the stairs from the garage below. The door he’d come through creaked open above him. He remembered the attacker’s dropped gun and felt the man beneath him move. Ben scrambled to his knees, trying to locate his gun, then gave up, reaching for the weapon by his ankle.

  “Ben, no!”

  Jocelyn’s voice broke his concentration. Only for a second, but that was all the attacker needed. He went to his stomach, then used his hands and knees. With his right leg barely moving, he slithered down the steps and right into a crowd of nurses coming up.

  They screamed and shifted out of the way, but he rammed right into them. Grabbed one and hid half behind her as he dragged her toward the ground. He looked out from behind her waist as she screamed in terror.

  Ben lay half on his side, shifting the gun and trying to get a clean shot off. But there was no way to hit the guy without injuring the women.

  He swore as the attacker turned the corner and kept going. Ben got to his feet and stared down the spiraling staircase in time to see the attacker dump the woman on the step, then run into another crowd of people.

  Out of air and with energy reserves failing thanks to the repeated injuries, Ben fell hard on his butt and leaned against the wall. He blinked back the pain thumping in his side. Breaths dragged out of his chest and blood seeped out of the wound on his stomach again. He hadn’t got the bad guy but he had managed to tear his stitches.

  “Hands up!”

  Ben looked up as Jocelyn ran down the steps, her shoes clunking against each step. A security guard followed right behind, trying to catch her, while two more came up from below.

  They all converged on the same half floor of steps and watched Ben. Worrying someone might play hero and accidentally shoot him, he raised both hands. “Calm down.”

  Two guards stopped to help the women the attacker had knocked over like bowling pins. The guard behind Jocelyn wasn’t giving in. He barreled down, gun up and ready to shoot.

  Jocelyn’s gaze locked on him. Ben doubted she saw the guy right behind her. She dropped down beside Ben and ran her hands over his shirt.

  He felt her lift the material and look at his stomach. He wanted to reach out to her, but he kept his gaze on the security guard’s gun. “Can you lower that?”

  The cloud of fear cleared from Jocelyn’s eyes. She spun around, then leaned over, putting her body in front of Ben’s. “He’s with me.”

  * * *

  DETECTIVE WILLOUGHBY STOOD next to Connor in the nurses’ break room. The small space had been cleared out and Joel and two uniformed officers manned the door.

  More than an hour had passed since the newest attack and Jocelyn’s knees still threatened to give out. She leaned the back of her thighs against one of the tables but that didn’t help. The blood thundered so hard in her brain that every word anyone said came through muffled.

  She wanted to sit down, maybe pass out for an hour or two. Exhaustion hit her out of nowhere and the relief at knowing everyone in the stairwell was fine had her breath hitching in her chest.

  The attacker had gotten away. Stumbled right out into the afternoon sun without anyone grabbing him. The fact made her temperature rise and a wave of heat hit her face, but her biggest concern was for Ben. The way Connor stared at him, she guessed he was concerned, as well.

  Once again Ben had protected and rescued. Stepped right into the line of fire. For her. He had a new set of bruises and injuries to prove it. If he wanted to convince her to take a temporary leave of absence, this sure did it.

  She could go a lifetime without watching Ben scramble down the stairs as he wrestled with an armed maniac. The image would haunt her dreams.

  He had tumbled and fought, without any care for his own safety. Even bloody, he had gotten back up and tried to catch the attacker. Only concern for the innocent people standing there had stopped him.

  Yeah, he was nothing like Ethan Reynolds. He’d proven that over and over, and she finally got it.

  And she had never wanted to sleep with Ethan, but she wanted Ben.

  “Someone want to walk me through this again?” the detective asked even though she and Ben both had set out the whole scenario. So had the victims on the stairs and the security guards who had rushed to the scene. The hospital had finally settled back into its normal rhythm again.

  Everyone agreed a guy dressed in black had fled the scene. For whatever reason, Glenn Willoughby didn’t accept that as the full truth.

  “Guy with gun attacked.” Ben breathed in deeply, then wrapped an arm around his middle when he tried to exhale. “He got away. End of story.”

  The detective stared at Ben, hesitating and giving him the silent treatment for what felt like an hour, before he looked at her again. “Ms. Raine, I’m thinking this all connects to you.”

  “Brilliant deduction.”

  “Ben.” She said his name in warning at the same time Connor did.

  This was not the time to take on the police. She didn’t like the detective, either. Something about the ever-present smirk and the know-it-all looks. Then again, she wasn’t a fan of police in general. The idea of them, she loved. The reality of what she’d faced made her question the ones she’d seen on television and in movies.

  The dislike seemed to run both ways. Detective Willoughby had made his position clear on Corcoran and his feelings on outside companies getting involved in crime solving, which Ben assured her was the normal reaction.

 
But the detective also stared at her when he should have been looking at other things. Not in a sexual way. More as a sneer.

  He put his hands on his hips. “Any reason someone would want to kill you?”

  “We’re working on that,” Connor said.

  That had the detective aiming his furious gaze in Connor’s direction. “I believe I explained to you that this is police business.”

  “She’s one of us.” Ben delivered the words without blinking. He could barely stand up straight, but his steely gaze all but dared the detective to challenge.

  Willoughby did anyway. “What does that mean?”

  She wondered the same thing.

  “We’ll protect her,” Connor said, backing up Ben.

  The detective’s smirk rose to full wattage as he turned to face her again. “And who are you protecting exactly?”

  Jocelyn felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Slam right to the floor, taking most of her insides with it. The room buzzed and she would have gone down if Ben hadn’t grabbed her arm and leaned her against his warm body.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Care to tell them, Ms. Raine?” The detective lifted an eyebrow. The dare was there in his voice and his expression. “I’d call you by your real name, but I don’t know it.”

  The bomb dropped. No one moved. Connor spared her a quick glance but Ben didn’t react at all to the cryptic information.

  No way would she let this guy, this detective she didn’t know and who took far too much pleasure in her discomfort, set the terms for her reveal. The news was private and terrible and something she wanted to forget. It would not become a line in his report or something he could play with to try to get the upper hand.

  She lifted her chin. “Jocelyn Raine is my real name.”

  That wasn’t a lie. She’d changed it legally. A closed-door, filed-under-seal case in another county, but she’d gone through all the legal channels once she was guaranteed the information would be almost impossible to find.

  “What did it used to be?” the detective asked.

  And she knew the guarantee about privacy had been blown. If this guy knew, Ethan might know. The reality of what that meant sent a tremor of fear shaking through her bones.