There was something on his mind. Something worrying him. Something he would not say.
She came around her desk and slid into the chair next to him. Not quite in his lap where she wanted to be, but close enough. “My boss figured us out,” she whispered.
A thousand unsaid things flickered across his face but he said nothing for the longest moment. “And?”
“And he doesn’t care. So long as it stays out of the office.”
His words were rough, his voice thick. His hands settled on her shoulders. “Normally no one would know that you spent the night at my place. The army only goes after stuff like that when it’s tied into some other crime.” He smiled and it did not reach his dark eyes. “And neither of us killed Sloban,” he said sadly. He nudged her chin up. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
His dark eyes searched hers and she fought the urge to look away. She felt him penetrate the defenses she’d carefully erected since leaving home, probing deep behind her walls. Breaking down her excuses and her shields until all he saw was her, naked and raw and unbound.
Slowly his eyes warmed with emotion. “Talk to me,” he whispered.
“I just haven’t slept well since…since the shooting.” She refused to anesthetize what had happened with a clean, sterile word like “incident.” A small act of defiance.
“It’ll take some time,” he said.
“I know that. It’s my job to know that.” But she slipped into his embrace, feeling his arms slide around her. “I’ve been worried about you,” she whispered.
“I’ve been fine,” he said against her hair. “Busy.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment. She glanced up at his face to see a thousand emotions flickering back at her.
“I was wondering what you were doing tonight?” he asked.
“Why? Exciting plans for a Monday night?”
“Because it has occurred to me that I haven’t had a chance to take you out on a real date. And I know we’ve both got a shit ton of chaos at work and all but I wanted to break away and see if you’d join me.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek.
She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. Resting against him, her head against his heart, she laughed until tears leaked out from her eyes. “I’ve got a hail and farewell tonight,” she said. “You could meet me there?”
He met her gaze. “I’d like that.”
* * *
Emily didn’t want to go to the hail and farewell at Talarico’s. Not by a long shot. Her shoulders were tight, her neck stiff. She tried to act like everything was normal. Colonel Zavisca had also behaved as if there was nothing wrong, but had avoided making eye contact with her at the evening sync meeting.
She felt like a pariah even though no one had said a word about the shooting. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at the Tuscan-style restaurant overlooking Belton Lake.
Gripping her purse, she climbed out of her car and headed in to the festivities. It felt like she was walking into a funeral. Her own.
Talarico’s was busy, but then again it was a Monday evening and she suspected more than one group of soldiers were scattered around the wide-open space. Emily didn’t feel like being sociable. It was enough that she was seen. She was planning on escaping as soon as she could. She skirted the room and headed out to the bar on the outside deck and ordered a glass of moscato. She turned toward the lake and watched the sun sink lower in the sky, hoping Reza would hurry.
Because she didn’t feel like being alone.
“You look like you’d rather be conducting a proctology exam.”
She turned, a faint smile on her lips at the sound of Reza’s voice. “Hi.”
He was a ray of bright light in the darkness of the evening sky. His skin glistened in the fading light in stark contrast to the light blue button-down shirt he wore.
Reza was a welcome sight. An anchor that she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around and hold on to. She glanced down at the beer mug in his hand then back up at his face. There was a rough shadow along his jaw and her fingers twitched with the desire to run her fingers along it. His gaze was warm and dark, his eyes rich and dark.
“I take it that’s a no on the proctology exam?” he said, his voice low and warm.
She smiled. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“How long do you have to stay?”
“Until I’m seen. I was planning on sneaking out in about forty-five minutes.” She swallowed a sip of her wine. “You made it.”
“Couldn’t leave you alone.” He cleared his throat and set his drink down. She reached for it, taking a sip. Relief washed over her as the water slid down her throat.
She braced her hip against the wall and studied him, swirling the remains of the wine in her own glass. “What are we doing, Reza?” she whispered finally.
Reza shifted and looked down at his hands. “I don’t know.” An honest answer.
“I can live with that,” she said softly.
* * *
“You can?” Reza looked at her sharply, her skin cast in golden shadows in the sunset.
He’d meant to check on her once more after the morning, but the entire day had been shot all to hell busy.
Emily shrugged. She looked tired. Strained. “Yes. I can handle whatever it is we’re doing.”
He fought the urge to brush her hair from her face. “Let me know when you can sneak out of here,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Ever ridden a motorcycle?”
She shook her head. She looked at him from beneath her heavy black lashes. “That sounds terrifying.”
“You’ve already been shot at. How bad can a motorcycle be?” He swallowed a powerful surge of lust then leaned in close, his lips near her ear. “I’ll make your first ride a good one.”
Her lips parted. A slow flush ran up her cheeks. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make something so innocuous sound so erotic?”
He laughed quietly. “Years of practice.”
“Really?”
“Not really. I think your mind is just in the gutter.”
“I could use a little gutter after last week,” she said, turning back to peer into the restaurant. “It looks like they’re getting ready to start the farewells. I’ll find you when I can sneak out?”
“I’m counting on it.”
She took a step toward the dark interior then paused and turned back. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For checking on me.”
He said nothing as she walked back inside. He remained behind, enjoying the quiet. A few couples were outside on the deck talking but by and large, Reza was alone. He watched Emily weave through the crowd to stand near one of the large bay windows.
He cradled the water, determined that he wasn’t going to drink tonight. He was waiting. Waiting for Emily to escape.
Waiting for her to slip away with him, into the darkness where he could hold her and just breathe her in. He wanted to feel her arms wrap around his chest, her legs around his hips as the bike vibrated beneath them.
He needed her. Her strength. Her steadiness.
Her arms around his waist. Just being there.
He wanted her. More, he needed to know that she was okay. He was accustomed to death and Sloban’s suicide was keeping him up at night. He needed to know that she was okay.
Because his world was a little better, knowing she was in it.
* * *
“You’ve really never been on a motorcycle?” he asked some time later after they’d both slipped away.
Emily looked dubiously at the bike. It was a Harley Davidson Fat Boy, black with silver and chrome detailing.
“Why is that hard for you to believe?”
“It just is,” he murmured. He reached for her, slipping his fingers into the front pocket of her pants and tugging her between his thighs where he rested against the bike. “It’ll be fun. You’ve ne
ver ridden until you’ve ridden with me.”
“I’ve ridden you before.”
He coughed and choked on a laugh. “Well played,” he said, his voice thick. He sucked on her bottom lip. Just a tiny tug. A hint of things to come. “You ready?”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m going to abscond with you to the wilds of central Texas and have my way with you in the mesquite brush.”
“That sounds awesome.”
Reza said nothing for a long moment. The sadness hiding in the shadows of her eyes really stuck with him and made him want to hold her close and never let her go. “Let’s go.”
He released her and swung his leg over the bike. “Get on behind me and wrap your arms around my waist.” She did as she was instructed. When she clasped her hand over his heart, something caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder. “Make sure you lean with me.”
She pressed against his back, her body tensing. “Okay.” A whispered attempt to hide the fear in her voice.
Reza turned the bike over and rolled out of the gravel parking lot. Stones popped beneath his tires as he waited for the road to clear, then he pulled out and headed toward Belton Dam.
The familiar rumble of the bike beneath him was forgotten as Emily’s warmth pressed to his back. She still hadn’t relaxed against him and he wanted to feel her melt. There was something soothing about having her with him just then, something that made the horrific events of the week seem a little further away.
He turned down the steep decline toward the dam and Emily’s arms tightened around his waist. Pulling into a secluded copse of trees near the rushing water, he killed the engine. In the silence of the encroaching darkness, she finally relaxed. Her arms did not release him but her body eased against his.
He turned on the bike, sliding one arm around her waist, and tugged until she rotated around to straddle him. She looked dazed. He gave in to the earlier temptation to brush her hair from her eyes. “Rough week, huh?” he murmured.
“And it’s not even over yet.” She blinked and glanced around. They were surrounded by low-hanging trees. It was darker here, the only sound the rushing water from the dam a couple hundred yards away. “This is beautiful.”
“Figured you’d like it.”
Her thighs were draped over his and he shifted to pull her closer until she was pressed fully against him. “We always seem to end up parking somewhere in the woods,” she said, twining her arms around his neck.
“You said you wanted to live a little.” He brushed her hair away from her throat, exposing the pale line of skin, then leaned closer, pressing his lips to her pulse. It scattered beneath the caress of his lips.
“I guess I did. I never did make out in a car when I was a teenager.”
He laughed against her neck, then nipped her pulse. She gasped. “How did you spend your teenage years?” he asked, tracing his tongue over the sensitive spot he’d just bitten.
“Volunteering and debate club.” A gasp as she tightened her thighs around his hips and rubbed against him.
“Sounds like a lot of time in the library.”
A gentle laugh. “Maybe. Do you have a librarian fetish?”
“Maybe.” He nipped her earlobe.
“I can’t picture you as a teenager,” she said, tipping her neck to give him greater access.
“I was a whole lot angrier and a lot more out of control.”
Emily surprised him. She leaned back until she could meet his gaze. She cupped his face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Reza.”
There was no pity in her soft words and yet they sparked a familiar anger. “Don’t be.”
She frowned. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Brush off any concern? You’re not Superman.”
He opened his mouth then snapped it closed. “I know that.”
She brushed her thumb against his bottom lip. “I don’t think you do.”
“Ah, fictional character?”
She shifted, then, leaning back slightly. “I’m serious, Reza.”
“So am I.” He let his fingers drift up beneath her jacket. The skin at the small of her back was soft and warm. So warm.
She curled into him, melting the ice around his heart just a little. She lay against him quietly. “I can’t stop seeing it,” she whispered finally.
He tightened his arms around her waist, but then moved to thread the fingers of one hand through her hair. He held her close, breathing in her scent. Wishing he could take away the pain of Sloban’s death for her and knowing that wish was futile.
Her fingers were limp against his neck, her breath hot.
“I want to forget.” A plaintive cry.
He lifted her face from his neck with his hands. “Time is the only thing that will make it easier,” he murmured. “You never really forget.”
Regret burned in him. A terrible truth that no matter how hard he tried would not be ignored. Reza closed his eyes and pulled her close once more and wished with everything he had that there was a way for him to erase her pain. But he knew far too well that some memories refused to die no matter how much one attempted to bury them.
But he could help her erase the pain, if only for one moment.
Chapter Eighteen
I never really thought the army would be this hard.”
“No one ever thinks handing out flowers and candy to the local nationals is hard.”
His voice rumbled through her body. She was leaning back against him now, her feet draped over the handlebars of the Harley. His chest was a solid wall behind her, his arms steel. She felt protected. Safe.
There was little noise around them now. Night had fallen and the woods had grown quieter. She hadn’t wept but it had been a close thing. She was a therapist. She should know how to stop seeing a memory flashing over and over in her mind.
Instead, the doctor had become the patient. She enjoyed Reza’s form of comfort. Just sitting. Quietly.
She shifted against him and his arms loosened to allow her to find a new position. Then they were back, tight around her once more.
“I’m not naive enough to think that you handed out hearts and candy during the war,” she said after a while.
“Most people forget there’s a war going on, let alone give any real thought to what war really involves.” She loved the feel of his voice, the rumble from deep in his chest. He was a big man. She’d never been attracted to big men. They’d always seemed too much, too overwhelming.
“When I told my parents I was joining the army, they asked me why I wanted to go and do something so stupid. I was too smart to join the army.”
“You’re not too smart. Contrary to popular belief, we’re not all idiot hillbillies with no other prospects in life.” He lifted her hair from her neck, exposing her skin to the cool night air.
“Why did you join?”
“To get away from my family,” he said. He nuzzled her gently, just below her ear. “My mother died. My dad went to jail. My uncles? That was a whole other story.”
She tipped her head. The feel of his lips on her skin was intoxicating, this insight into the boy he’d been more so. “Uncles?”
“Let’s just say that there are some members of my family who wanted me to think long and hard about fighting a war against our people.” She turned to face him. “My grandfather came here in the fifties with my mother and her brothers from Tehran. My dad married a non-Catholic Persian woman so he obviously was the apostate of the family. That was until I went and joined the war on terror.” He nipped her ear. “I left home as soon as I could after my mom died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
His voice held a strange note and she angled her face to be able to look up at him. “Why not?”
“Would you go running home right now?” he asked, his thumb rubbing gently against the side of her throat.
“No. My family made it abundantly clear that I was to come home imme
diately, which is the number one reason why I won’t go back.” She closed her eyes against the pleasure of his touch. She shifted and threaded her fingers through his.
“Your family wouldn’t approve of me,” he said against her hair.
She squeezed their joined hands tightly. “Their approval doesn’t matter to me.”
“We both know that’s a lie.” He rested his cheek against hers, his chin cradled in her neck. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Maybe it hurts. Maybe being rejected by your family should hurt. But I know this: I feel more alive with you than I ever have before. And as long as you’re willing company…”
Reza straightened and turned her to face him. Her thighs draped over his. In the low moonlight, his features were harsh, unforgiving. He looked like an angel of death.
She could forget that when he was loving her but looking into his face now, she knew she should never put that thought out of her mind again. This man looked comfortable in the darkness. As though he was at home in it.
If she was alone in the woods, fear would likely paralyze her. Reza? Reza looked like he would simply hunker down and wait, at home in the shadows.
“I’m not willing to let you throw away something important just to get a quick screw on the back of my bike.”
“Oh, that’s what we’re going to do out here?” She wriggled against his hips. “I thought we were just going to snuggle.”
His dark eyes looked black and narrowed dangerously. The moment hung for what felt like eternity between them.
And then his lips curled into a warm smile.
* * *
His little captain kept surprising him. She made jokes when he didn’t expect them and looked like she was ready to break at other times. Reza shifted against her, surrounding her with his body and knew a flickering moment of something he’d never felt before: contentment.
“You’re such a contradiction,” he murmured.
“How’s that?”
“Librarian fetish, remember?” he said. His blood felt heavy in his veins. Like he wanted nothing more than to pull her against him and fall into sleep. “You’re all buttoned up and tense but now you’re talking dirty to me on my bike. It’s really hot.”
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