Seconds to Sunrise

by Nico Rosso

  “That would’ve taken the car.” Large rocks tumbled under the force of the water.

  He whistled low. “Yeah, we would’ve been in trouble.”

  “Thanks for getting us out of there.” His arm rested between them. She almost laid her hand on it.

  “Thanks for navigating.” He shifted to peer up and down the highway. “We would’ve been way too exposed down there.”

  Pools of water developed over the asphalt, erasing the hard lines and taking the road back to nature. “You got us off the highway at the right time.”

  He chuckled. “We would’ve needed a boat.”

  Had they run out of things to say? The rain continued to chatter, but they were silent. Only a couple of feet apart. Her pulse seemed to push her nearer to him with each thrum. Her body sought to complete the electric connection it had been tasting in quiet jolts.

  James continued to watch out the front windows. “I’m still learning your American rain. We get plenty of rain in England, but there, it’s historical. Poems and paintings, all those old buggers have covered it.” He ran his finger along the upper edge of his side window and rubbed it against his thumb, checking for moisture. “This rain is primordial. Like a battle between the landscape and the water. All we need now is a volcano.”

  “And dinosaurs.” Few human traces remained visible in the desert.

  His eyes looked way beyond the view. “In that London flat, with my folks, I never imagined the different kind of rain in the world. I’ve learned them. Drizzle of a million needles in Vienna. Cold curtains of it in the Yemen highlands.” More of his history emerged. “The panicked chaos in Los Angeles.”

  “Are there any you’d return to?” A part of his past drew pain, but had he lived anywhere without that agony?

  “L.A. is my home now. I can make that work.” He didn’t address anything else.

  She moved without thinking. She rested her hand on his. He started to pull out from under her. She gripped enough to let him know she didn’t want to let go. The feel of his skin on hers was the heat she’d imagined between them. A slow jolt of thick lightning.

  He moved his hand away.

  Rejection chilled her. But she wouldn’t let embarrassment choke her words. “You said we’re invisible.” The rain and rocks and clouds hid them.

  “To the outside.” He stared forward.

  “You’re right.” She turned toward him and still couldn’t draw his gaze. “I can see you. I want to.”

  “You...” He looked at her. The pain and gloom were closer to the surface than she’d ever seen in him. “I...” His mouth tightened, as if holding back what he wanted to reveal. “I’m not good.”

  “That’s wrong.” She ventured her hand toward him. “Everything you’re doing for me...”

  He smiled sadly. “Is for an old debt.”

  “But you’ll never allow yourself to consider it paid.” She understood what it was to carry a burden without question.

  His eyes narrowed. She’d hit a deeper truth. “Why did I know all the answers to your questions about contract killers?”

  Her hand stopped. A sudden breath caught in her throat. She’d never imagined he could be that kind of man. His moments of grim silence made more sense. The pained depth in his eyes. But that very emotion made it hard for her to imagine him as one of those stone-faced killers.

  “After the SAS, before Automatik,” he explained. “I never pulled the trigger, but I ran close support and surveillance for my old sergeant. He was the contractor. That doesn’t excuse me.”

  His secret lodged in him like a bullet no one could operate on. “But you don’t do it anymore.” The man she’d learned about was not cold-blooded.

  “Automatik showed up.” He held up both hands like a scale. “Gave me and Hathaway a way out. I took it. He didn’t.” One hand made a fist.

  “You started over.”

  “You know that’s impossible.” Their pasts crowded with them in the car. “I tried. Even when I was doing the work, whatever money I didn’t drink I sent to my parents.” He took a tight breath. “There aren’t enough good deeds in the world.”

  “Maybe just one.” With herself and the other widows, there was always a despair that the pain and loss couldn’t be swept away. But their shared experience let them know it wasn’t about a magic doorway they could walk through to a new life. Steps counted. Small transitions. Recovery came in handfuls. Each one was prized.

  The bond that had grown between her and James was as fine as gold wire. Easily broken. She should snap it. But it shone so unique, she had to know where it led. Nothing was the same from two days ago. She wasn’t the same.

  She pushed through her fear and reached forward. His face hardened. It seemed he might recede again after revealing too much of himself. Old pain lined the sides of his eyes. His lips parted to speak. She paused. He didn’t say a word.

  Her hand found his again.

  Chapter Nine

  The gold wire she’d felt between them spun thicker. Her fingers gripped his hand. He could pull away, but she needed to let him know she wanted him to stay. His gaze locked to hers; the pain remained in him. She learned again. Like dragging herself forward, despite a body full of broken bones.

  The touch was human. The James she’d come to know. Warm. Strong. He had calluses and scars. So did she. Neither had arrived at this spot in a storm without a past.

  “You are good.” She wanted to send the words through her skin as well, so he could feel the truth.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been.”

  “You are good now.”

  “It’s still me.” Emotion shined in his eyes.

  “We change.”

  “Not enough.” He started to move his hand, but she held him.

  “We don’t delete anything.” Her past threatened to break her hold on James as much as he did. “We live forward.”

  “You do.” His energy rose. “You live.”

  Anger shook her words. “Because you don’t deserve to?” His stubborn torment had to stop.

  His smile was that of a man relieved to finally be falling to the burning center of the earth. “You’ve got it, luv.” He pulled out from under her touch.

  “No.” Frustration choked her. She’d risked a chance and was now overexposed. Without safety. “No, James.”

  His eyes softened. “You don’t deserve—”

  “You don’t get to decide that.” Her hand remained between them. “I reached for you.”

  “The wrong man.”

  “You don’t get to decide that.” She turned her hand palm up. It trembled. He looked from her eyes to her hand and back. The tension in his neck and jaw released. He placed his hand on hers.

  The connection deepened with a new trust. He curled his fingers around her. She was protected, and strong enough to hold him. Heat moved between them. Her heart pounded faster. The storm erased the world around them.

  James leaned forward. His lips parted. Her trembling increased. He held her hand gently and didn’t move.

  She steadied her breath and told him, “I want you to kiss me.”

  He closed the gap between them. Her eyes shut. His mouth met hers. Tentative. Searching. Their lips slid against each other. His beard scraped her skin, making it more alive. She craved every sensation, deepened the kiss and tasted his smoky essence and rainwater.

  His fingers stroked through the hair at her temple and behind her ear. Hidden places on her that hadn’t glowed with this kind of attention for years. She placed her hand on his chest and felt how tight his muscles were. Together, she and James fell into the unknown.

  Her mouth parted as his tongue sought hers. Waves of excitement swept up her limbs and centered in her chest. The new life in her body was shared in his. He rumbled in
to her mouth as she dug her fingernails into him, just below his collarbone. Her breasts became very aware of her bra against them. As she moved closer to James, her nipples rubbed on the fabric and sparked with more heat.

  He pushed his fingers through her hair and held the back of her neck. The two of them were locked together. Like they’d been for the last two days. But now, they chased each other. Sliding tongues, firm lips and biting teeth.

  Her body surged with the waves, hips swiveling forward. The bucket seats of the car constrained too much. Plastic and industrial fabric creaked and whined. She wanted to drag her hand down and tear his shirt with it. She wanted his skin.

  She wanted too much. Her breath hitched and she broke the kiss. James pulled away and stared into her face with heavy-lidded eyes. His chest rose and fell. Slowly, he removed the hand from the back of her neck. She ended the touch on his chest. Their other hands remained clasped. She didn’t tremble anymore. But she was shaken inside. Her need had come on too strong. She wasn’t sure if she should ever give in to those desires, or if her life as a widow only allowed her the comfort of a simple touch.

  She looked at his mouth, knowing now how firm the lips were, and the feel of his beard. She stared into his eyes and understood more of him. And he saw into her. They’d taken a chance. It hadn’t killed them. But her nerves had woken up with too much ferocity. Any more would’ve torn her apart.

  They let go of each other’s hands. After a while, the rain pounded louder than her heartbeat. The storm hadn’t relented. She hadn’t found a release, either. James still appeared poised, body ready. She turned in her seat to face forward. Their breath had steamed the windows. The blur transformed the streaming water on the glass and the rocky hills into a completely different planet.

  James turned front as well. He shifted and rearranged his jacket. She heard the metal and plastic of his weapons settling.

  She broke the silence. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t...” Telling him what she’d wanted and not having it would’ve been agony.

  “There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” His voice rasped. “If I went too far...”

  There was so much neither was saying. “I asked you to.”

  “And I wanted to,” he admitted.

  But it couldn’t go any further. They fell back into silence; the rain made all the conversation. Could she take another taste? Another test? Her blood rushed at the thought. She’d be right back at the brink if she kissed him again. Even looking at his long hand resting on his thigh made her lick her lips. Breaking out of her old life felt like it could break her.

  She focused on the mission. Getting the website back. Helping all those women support each other and learn from each other. She needed to do that. But the thought of returning to her dark computer room alone set an ache deep in her chest. James sat less than two feet away from her, and she couldn’t touch him. She’d stepped over borders she never thought she’d approach again. Now she was lost.

  * * *

  How the hell could he be so hot in the middle of a winter storm? Hail collected like piles of pearls at the base of the nearby rocks. Still, he wanted to tear off his jacket and release the steam under his skin.

  The kiss had taken him. Just her telling him what she wanted was enough to rip him apart. He’d revealed who he was, explained his past, and she’d reached for him. Unburdening himself to her had been enough. She now knew what his closest Automatik teammate didn’t. It didn’t eradicate his past, but voicing it helped move the rusty nails that drove the memories into him. Even knowing, she hadn’t run or shut him off. She’d offered her hand and taught him that a human touch could communicate a connection.

  She’d taken the link further with the kiss. Proof that she understood who he was and didn’t judge him. Her needs were clear, too. After the nervous trembling subsided, she’d grown bolder, opening her mouth to him and demanding more.

  James laid the back of his hand against the window glass and hoped it would draw the heat out of him. Could April feel the fire that pulsed through him? She sat still now, hands no longer shaking. Her eyes stared into the hazy view. They had tried. The connection had lasted as long as it could before it had threatened them both. Going any further would’ve been overwhelming. Old scars would’ve torn apart.

  He relied on his focus to meditate his needs down. The mission had to take priority. Find the hackers and shut them down. Protect April. When this was over, he could allow himself to think about how it might’ve worked out between them. If they’d just met in the parking lot, without any assailants. If the flow of time had gently moved them together, rather than smashing him into her life.

  “It’s not letting up.” He moved his hand from the cold glass and rubbed his other fingers over the chilled skin. He’d cleared a spot of condensation and watched the rain and hail continue to sweep over them.

  “This might be the second storm I saw.” She used her sleeve to swipe her window and looked out. He couldn’t see her expression. Her voice had been flat.

  “Lunch?” Anything to return to a normal balance, though that seemed impossible.

  She turned toward him, eyes alert but ringed in a sadness that ran a razor edge right through his ribs. “Do we have anything?”

  “From the vending machine.” He reached into the backseat and dragged forward a plastic bag from the sporting goods store. He’d transferred his kit to her luggage when they’d left the motel and had filled the bag with the remaining junk food. “It’ll get us by.”

  She groaned. “I’m going to need a salad soon.” Her hand dove into the bag and retrieved a packet of pretzels.

  “We could go foraging.” If there was anything green out there, it was buried in the mud.

  “Do it.” She nodded.

  He cracked open the door and slammed it, spraying the interior of the car with a mist of icy rain. She laughed in a burst and took cover behind her arm. The air was refreshed between them.

  Rainwater covered his hand. He rubbed it on his face and the back of his neck. “Beautiful day.”

  She held out the bag of pretzels to him. “Picnic?”

  “Brilliant.” He ate for calories and ignored the taste. The familiar comfort of April’s company wrapped around him again. He couldn’t shake it off or bury it. He tried not to think about the kiss. Maybe in time he’d be able to ignore the tug that kept him wanting to rest his hand on her shoulder or stare at her hands and look into her eyes as she spoke.

  They completed their lunch. The windows steamed thicker, enclosing them in a private bubble.

  “Los Angeles?” She reclined her chair a couple of notches and stretched out her legs.

  “Orange County, technically.” He flexed his legs in place to keep the blood flowing. “Close to a couple of airports so I’m mobile.”

  “House?”

  “Small one.” Raker had been the only Automatik member to be there. The place was barely decorated and furnished with only the necessities. Couch. TV. Bed. Gun bench. “My parents haven’t even seen it.”

  She watched his face. “They’re still in London?”

  He and April couldn’t go any further. But he held on to the bond they had, more valuable than any of his possessions. “I moved them to California when I joined Automatik.”

  “Do they know what you do?” She brushed her hair behind her ear, bringing his memory back to the silk and satin he felt there.

  “They didn’t before and they don’t now.” He was sure he owed his father an email and his mother a phone call. “After the SAS, I just told them I was a ‘consultant.’”

  She blinked, and he watched her remember what he’d revealed. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d demanded he drive her through the storm back to a safe place in Albuquerque where another Automatik operator could pick her up. But she hadn’t judged him. Not as harshly as he h
ad himself. He hadn’t softened the truth. Not pulling the trigger didn’t make him less culpable.

  He took a breath and explained, “A lot of the time we were running security around people. They liked paying for it, rather than having a government handle the logistics.” Her gaze remained steady. “Other times there were individuals whose lives were only worth six figures to a government or corporation or rival.”

  “You left.”

  “I did.” The past seemed further away. “Automatik unlocked that door.”

  “You must’ve made a lot of people nervous when you walked.”

  He chuckled. “They don’t send birthday cards anymore.” He hadn’t seen Hathaway since leaving England. “Last time I was in a room with my old mate, he tried to pull a razor across my throat.”

  She shuddered. “Jesus.”

  “He bled more than I did that night.” None of it had come as a surprise once he’d left Hathaway’s employ. “It was a good motivator for me to help my folks get that little house in a nice Indian neighborhood far away from London.”

  “They’re safe?” She showed real concern.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you are?” Her worry deepened.

  He shrugged, the pistol rubbed against his ribs. “Look at the two of us. The world’s so scared of us, we’ve been banished to a rocky cliff surrounded by storms.”

  “It’s breaking.” She stared off to the west. A jagged white line opened over the horizon. She wiped condensation away to reveal thinning clouds over gauzy rain.

  The unrelenting wind blew the weakening storm over and past them. He started the car. “On to Phoenix.” Driving down the hill should’ve broken the spell of their private hiding place, but he was still very aware of how close she was. Their shoulders knocked together as the car bounced from side to side in new ruts.

  “Can we get across that?” She tipped her head toward the wet wash they’d struggled over earlier.

  He peered forward. The debris had collected by the highway overpass, leaving a path, but he couldn’t tell how deep the mud was. “I’ll scout once we get down there.”