by Cynthia Eden
A muscle flexed along Chase’s jaw. “I wasn’t screaming for help. I was telling the asshole who was trying to break into your place to stop. I ran at him, I would have caught him, but you stepped in my path and stopped me.” His gaze pinned her. “Why the hell would you protect him?”
What? “I wasn’t protecting him! I was helping you!” How did he keep missing that? And her voice had risen. That wasn’t good. She glanced around the lobby. They were the only ones there. The lights shined faintly overhead, but plenty of shadows filled the area…because it was three a.m. Okay, she needed to reassess. “Someone was trying to break into my place?”
“He got away.” Chase sounded disgusted. “By the time I reached the ground floor, he was gone. I hit the street, but there was no sign of him.”
Her hand tightened around the prize that she still gripped in the palm of her right hand. “He was at my door?”
“Yeah, and I stopped him from getting inside.”
“He must have been the guy who tried to break in earlier!”
Chase licked his lower lip. “Um…”
“I have to see…I think I know…” Her words tumbled together as she whirled and ran back for the stairwell.
“Vivian! Vivian, dammit, wait for me!”
She didn’t have to wait. He was right on her heels as she double-timed it up those stairs. Once she reached the fourth floor, Vivian threw open the door and beelined straight for her apartment. When she got there, she shoved the key toward the lock.
Doesn’t fit.
“It’s the wrong key,” she said, voice excited. Or maybe she was just panting too much from the run up the stairs. Mental reminder, do more cardio.
“Uh, what?” Chase was right behind her, and he didn’t sound even a little out of breath.
“I found this key when I was running after you. It was right near the stairwell door.” She grabbed for the set of keys she’d hurriedly put in the pocket of her pajama shorts earlier—the set that included a key to the new lock and still had her old key on there. She put the old key next to the one she’d discovered at the stairwell door. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the shapes of the keys. “They’re a match.” Her heart kept thudding frantically in her chest. “He was using a key to my old lock.” Her head whipped toward Chase. She caught him studying her with a hard, assessing gaze. “What?” Vivian asked because she couldn’t decipher his expression.
“You’re telling me the intruder had a key to your old lock?”
“It looks that way.” Her shark slippers shifted a bit as she retreated a step. “That makes zero sense to me. I mean, if he was the same guy who tried to get in earlier, he broke the lock.”
Chase glanced back at the stairwell.
“If he wasn’t the same guy, then why would two people try to break into my home within a twenty-four-hour period?” But even as she asked the question…
Oh, no. No, no.
His attention slid back to her. “Because there is something important in your home. Something people must want very, very badly.” The edge of suspicion was there. She could see it. “What do you have that people want so desperately?”
Her lips parted. Fear slithered through her. “Nothing.” Her voice broke on the word.
“This is where I tell you that you need to call the cops.”
If I’m right, the cops can’t help me. “And this is where I tell you good night.”
“What?”
She unlocked her door. “The…the security system will be installed first thing in the morning?”
“Damn straight it will be.”
“Excellent news.” She forced a smile. “Good night, Chase.”
“What in the hell? Vivian!”
Very softly, but very firmly, she shut the door in his face.
Oh, God. I am in trouble.
***
Chase stared at the closed door. “What in the hell?” he demanded again. He lifted his hand to pound against the wood, but then stopped.
Check the security footage. Check in with your team.
He backed away from her door and hurried to his place. He yanked out his keys from the front pocket of his jogging pants and made his way inside. It only took a few moments to pull up the security feed from the camera in the hallway.
I see you. You didn’t come from the elevator. You took the stairs up. And when the fellow had exited the stairwell, he’d already had the dark hood of his sweatshirt pulled up around his head. The perp went straight to Vivian’s door. Chase leaned forward as he watched the footage. The perp was pulling out a key, his gloved fingers were wrapped around it, and…
The key didn’t fit.
The fellow stood there a moment, seemingly confused, when the key didn’t slide into the lock on Vivian’s door. Then Chase saw himself appear as he rushed after the would-be intruder. Next up was Chase’s collision with Vivian as she came barreling out of her place and then—
He slowed down the video feed. Sure enough, the perp had dropped something shiny near the stairwell door. The key.
Chase switched security cameras and studied the earlier feed from the lobby. The guy came in easily, accessing the building by quickly typing in a key code on the exterior security panel. When he hurried into the lobby, the hoodie was in place, but he didn’t know about the camera that had been installed down there. The guy turned and—
“Gotcha,” Chase said smugly. He hit a few buttons on his laptop then reached for his phone. His fingers did a little tap as he waited for Merik to answer—
“You are messing up my beauty sleep.”
“There’s no rest for the wicked.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Merik’s voice sharpened.
“It means some joker just tried to break into Vivian’s place.”
“What?”
“Though there wasn’t a whole lot of breaking involved. He had a key. If I hadn’t ever-so-helpfully broken her lock earlier—and then given her a new, better lock—he would have gotten inside to her.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Chase prompted. “You there?”
“Did you just give yourself credit for breaking that woman’s lock?”
“I did save the day,” he modestly replied.
“It is too late for me to deal with your brand of crazy.”
“What are you talking about?” He printed out the picture he’d captured of the perp. “You can never deal with my brand of crazy.”
A rough laugh came from Merik.
“I got the bastard,” Chase supplied with no small amount of glee. His fingers flew across the keyboard. “Caught his image on the lobby’s security camera. I’m sending it to you and to our techs at Wilde. Let’s get this fellow ID’d ASAP.”
“On it.”
“The would-be intruder could just be a thug hired by the big player in this game. You and I both know the bosses don’t like to get their hands dirty on cases like this.”
“Yeah, guys in charge always let others risk everything.”
Because the hired goons were expendable. Still, a key to Vivian’s place indicated a personal connection in Chase’s mind. “While you ID him, I’ll stick close to our target.”
“Uh, just how close are we talking?”
As close as necessary. “She said the cops couldn’t help her.”
“Yes, well, that tends to happen when you try to sell classified intel to bad guys. You step into some serious shit.”
“If the cops can’t help, then I need to show her that she has other alternatives. I can be what she needs. And…”
“And what? Don’t leave me hanging. You know how I hate being kept in suspense.”
“I think she has the material we need inside her place. If this guy was trying to break in, then he must have thought so, too.” Using a key to her place meant he’d been very well prepared. This was no average crime. “That means I have to get in and take a nice look around.”
“I thought her place had already been sear
ched. You know, by the CIA guy who brought us in on this case? And he found nothing.”
“Maybe he didn’t look in the right places.”
“Fine. Maybe he didn’t. But can’t you just search when we install the security system tomorrow?”
“Why wait until morning? She needs me now.”
“Hold up! She needs you? Is this about you helping her or catching her?”
Chase considered the question. “Huh.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I said the wrong thing.” Jeez. Someone was grumpy in the middle of the night. “Chill your ass out and ID the perp, will you?”
“Do not blur the mission goals! Do not let that woman get to you! Do not—”
“Man, you’re breaking up. Bad connection. Talk to you soon.” He hung up the phone. Grabbed a t-shirt. Shoes. Yeah, he’d forgotten to put shoes on when he’d rushed after the perp. He’d grabbed keys before heading out of his apartment, but stopping for shoes hadn’t seemed important.
He had a quick flash of Vivian and her shark slippers. Fucking cute. Why was the villain of the story so cute?
Because the cuteness disarms me. It makes her seem less threatening. No one seems dangerous wearing shark skippers.
But…
Maybe it’s all an act. Maybe she’s far better at the game than I realized. He’d thought it would be easy to play her. Instead, she was playing him. Throwing him off-balance. Kissing him.
Trying to trick him.
Not going to happen. It would take more than a few moments of cuteness to get Chase off mission. Hell, nothing had ever gotten him off mission.
He threw some supplies in a backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and then in no time, he stood in front of her apartment door. He knocked a few times.
She didn’t open the door, but he heard creaks from inside her home.
“You need a peep-hole,” he told her as he raised his voice a bit. “Or a doorbell that lets you see video footage of whoever is outside your door. I’ll be taking care of that tomorrow.”
The door opened. “Why are you back?” She peered at him, all suspicious-like.
He offered a charming smile to her. “Because I’m here to be your knight in shining armor.”
“I don’t want a knight in shining armor. Didn’t request one at all.” She gripped the edge of the door.
She was still wearing those damn slippers.
“Women could also be knights,” she added as her hold tightened on the door. “There was an order in Catalonia, The Order of Hatchet, that was for women.”
Chase felt his grin expand a little more. “I love when you teach me new things. I did not know about Hatchet.”
Her lips parted. She also let go of the door and backed up.
He took that opportunity and eased inside. “If I’m not a knight, how about I play the role of friend?”
“You were mad at me. When you left, you were mad.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your expression. Your voice. Pretty much everything about you.”
He shut the door. Flipped the lock. “I was worried. I didn’t want you hurt.” That was true. It wasn’t about her just being a target. It was…hell, he didn’t want anything bad happening to her. “Huh.”
“You figure something out?”
“Working on it.”
Her lips pursed. One of the sharks tapped against the floor. “You locked my door.”
“Well, sure. I didn’t very well want a bad guy rushing in behind me and getting the drop on us both.”
Her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a soft, white cotton t-shirt and loose, blue, silky-looking shorts that skimmed the tops of her thighs.
“You have fantastic legs,” he told her. “But I’m sure you realize that.” His gaze lifted to hers.
She frowned at him. “Why are you in my home right now?”
“Because I’m going to sleep on your couch.”
“Why?”
Chase let out a long-suffering sigh. “Because I’m worried about you. Because someone came close to getting into this place while you were sleeping. Because you won’t call the cops—which, by the way, seriously means you have something to hide. Not that I’m judging, I’m just saying. And, oh, yeah, I’m crashing on the couch because if I don’t make sure you’re safe, I will never be able to sleep.” He paused. “Are those enough reasons?”
“You have a hero complex.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re an ex-SEAL, you chased after the bad guy tonight, and you work for a security company. I’d say it’s more than a maybe.”
He shrugged. The movement made his backpack dip. He’d almost forgotten about it. “Not to sound immodest, but I’m a fucking fantastic bodyguard.”
“I looked up Wilde. Considering your client list, your rates must be astronomical. I can’t afford them, and as I told you, I can protect myself. I have training.”
“Computer training,” he pushed, deliberately.
Her chin notched up. Her green eyes seemed to darken. “I’m not at liberty to discuss precisely what kind of training. Just know that I can defend myself.”
“Good. Excellent.” He nodded. “Will you let me crash on your couch so that I can actually sleep?” He could see her indecision. “You checked out my company earlier, didn’t you? You verified I’m one of the agents?”
“Of course, I verified it.” Now she seemed annoyed that he would even question her checking. As if it were a given for her.
He controlled the curl of his lips, and said, “Then you know you can trust me. That’s great.” He eyed the couch. It was nice and comfy-looking with overstuffed cushions. Much better than some of the spots he’d used for sleeping on other missions.
“I don’t trust many people. I just met you. I have no reason to trust you.”
Yes, that was the problem. If she didn’t trust him, then he couldn’t learn her secrets. Time to play some hardball. “He might come back tonight.”
Her tongue swiped over her lower lip. “I have considered that possibility.”
“Have you considered the possibility that if he gets in here, while you are sleeping and you don’t hear him until he is over you with a gun or a knife…have you considered that your training won’t do much good?”
Vivian swallowed. “The thought did cross my mind, and that’s why I’m glad I get a fancy new security system tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you already have it?” The question tore from him, but it had been bugging Chase.
“I was saving my money for something else. Thought it would be okay. This is a safe part of town.”
“No place is one hundred percent safe.”
Her long lashes—thick, dark—flickered.
“If I’m on your couch, the bad guy has to get past me before he can come to you. So you’ll hear the two of us fighting and you’ll wake up and—bam, your survival chances have just increased.”
“I don’t want you hurt.”
That was good to hear. “I don’t want to be hurt. But don’t worry. I’m an extremely light sleeper. Occupational hazard. I’ve got great reflexes, and I can disarm an attacker in about fifty different ways, all in under five seconds.”
“Are you being immodest again?”
This time, Chase didn’t fight his smile. “You want me to stay. Or at least, you’re thinking about it.”
“I met you today.”
“Actually, yesterday, because, you know, it’s after midnight and all.”
The tension didn’t leave her body.
Right. “You checked my references. If you want, I even have a detective on the Atlanta PD who will vouch for me. Want to call her? Actually, I know the mayor of Marietta, too. The mayor can—”
“Stop.”
He waited.
Vivian shook her head. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Because I like you.”
Her lips parted. “You just met me. What could you possibly like so fa
r?”
Actually, lots of things. He closed in on her. “You make insanely delicious brownies.” He could smell her sweet scent. “You smell like vanilla.” And I want to lick you up. “You are a fantastic kisser.” His stare focused on her mouth. “Those are a few of the reasons I like you.” Then he admitted, “And I really, really don’t like it when some asshole tries to terrorize a woman. Pushes all my buttons.”
She leaned toward him. “I think you are a fantastic kisser, too,” Vivian whispered.
“I try.” He wanted to try again. Right then. His head dipped toward her.
Her hand pressed to his chest. “Do you just want to stay so that you can seduce me?”
“No, sweetheart,” the endearment slipped out. He didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did. “I’m staying to help keep you safe. But if you want to try your hand at seducing me…” Go for it.
Vivian searched his gaze. “You’re one of the good guys?”
“If that’s what you want to call me. I don’t like labels.” Especially since, in this instance, he was lying his ass off to her. “Though we definitely have to talk about the issue you seem to have with bad guys.”
She leaned even closer. “I don’t want bad.”
He wanted her mouth. “I can be very good.”
“Bad breaks your heart. Lies to you. Wrecks your life.”
Aw, hell. He was lying, and by the time he was done, he would wreck her life. But breaking her heart?
That will only happen if she falls for me.
Wasn’t that the point of his undercover persona? To get her to trust him, to confide in him, to even fall for him? All so he could learn her secrets.
She’s selling out CIA operatives. “You never know who is bad,” he rumbled. “Sometimes, the worst kind of evil hides beneath the sweetest facade.”
“Yes.” Their lips were almost touching.
I want her mouth.
She stepped back. “I’ll get some extra pillows and covers for you.”
“Because you’re letting me stay?”
A nod. “And…thank you. I appreciate you looking out for me.” She turned and hurried toward the bedroom.
You don’t have anything to thank me for, sweetheart. Quite the opposite. When he locked her in jail, she wouldn’t be thanking him.