by Beth Rhodes
They hit a few snags when he worked on the locks.
And it was eleven o’clock when he swore under his breath and threw a wrench to the floor. A wrench. She almost laughed, but he looked so miserable. Then he was talking under his breath about extending the job.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He ran a hand through his hair, pulling strands from the bun in back—again. He did that when he was frustrated, and when he leaned forward into the doorway, strands of his dark hair fell forward. “No,” he said, but then added, “Go into the artifact room, would you? When you get in there, open the door and come back out.”
Her heart raced.
He was asking her to go, open the door, and enter the room where she could snatch the very item she’d come for…just waiting to be plucked from its tapestry bed. She groaned.
“Don’t be so bitchy about it. I’m doing the bulk of the work here, you know,” he said, his eyes finding her before straying back to the computer in front of him.
“I wasn’t—” She stopped, insulted yet not at the same time, but the way she’d moaned had probably sounded like a complaint. And what was she supposed to do? Explain why she was groaning? “Okay,” she said. “Be right back.”
She walked down the hall, the long, dark stone hall toward the room with the big, dark, heavy door. There was one guard. “Hey,” she greeted him. “Do you always stand out here? Or is this extra duty because we’re here?”
The man eyed her suspiciously. What was it with her today? She didn’t really look like a criminal.
“Ma’am,” he said, “a guard comes by every half-hour whether you’re here or not. I’m here in case there’s anything you need.”
“I need to get in there.” She pointed to the door, her fingers itching to touch the armband. “Malcolm wants to check the response times. He thinks there’s a fault in the current system.”
With a nod, he opened the door and let her in.
She wondered if he would follow her, but he must trust his boss had hired professionals, trusted she would be in and out. She would. But first, she walked over to the armband and leaned over the display. Her breath clouded the gold, reminding her of how her dad would pick it up and tell her that her Bunic-pa had paid him to take her mother off his hands. Because she was such a troublemaker. And Marie better be careful, because if she caused any trouble, he might have to do the same.
And then he’d wink, grab her around the waist to flip her over, and tickle her until she was laughing hysterically. Her mom would come back and whack him with a kitchen towel. “Put her down,” she’d say, and he would, only to grab her mom instead.
And they would kiss.
Marie brushed the gold with a shaky finger and saw a red light blink at the bottom of the display. Another hurdle. Getting in wouldn’t be difficult. Not if she came back as a Hawk Elite employee.
The plan formed as she made her way back to the door, opened it, and exited.
No lights or bells and whistles went off.
When she got back, Malcolm’s fingers were flying across the keyboard of his laptop. She walked through the door and leaned against the wall to wait. Without a word, she set her phone on the table next to the door and came up behind him.
And he was muttering again, which charmed her. Made her hate what she had to do, made her hate the deception and her ability to be the lowest of the low—a thief.
A row of lights began blinking above his head and then shut off.
“Fuck yes!” Malcolm fist-pumped the air. Total dork.
A smile twitched at her lips as her heart broke a little. It was over. “Everything all set?”
“Finally. Yes.” Malcolm stood and stretched his back, lifting his arms over his head. The muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled beneath the shirt. She’d never considered herself the kind of girl who would drool over a guy. As a matter of fact, she prided herself on her belief that a man had to be worth more inside than what appeared nice on the outside. Equal rights. She didn’t want to be ogled, so she didn’t ogle.
Until Malcolm, anyway.
Jiminy Cricket, and he always wore those pants, which tapered and made his butt look…firm, amazing. Of course, he did hide it half the time under those flannels. He grabbed said flannel from the back of the chair and snaked his arm through the sleeve.
“My eyes are up here,” he said as he lifted his bag and set it on the chair.
Heat rose on her neck. “Sorry. Now I know what’s under all those clothes…sorta hard to concentrate.”
“Yeah, that’s why sleeping with someone you work with is always a bad idea.” He carefully placed his computer in the bag and picked up a neatly circled cord as well as a little black box, which she couldn’t identify. “If it’s any consolation, your perfume has been driving me crazy all morning.”
He slung the bag over one broad shoulder and exited the room without another word.
Shock had her planted to the floor. I’m distracting him? He’d been so focused all morning, while she’d mostly been twiddling her thumbs and feeling quite useless. “Hey, I’m not even wearing—”
He was down the hall and heading to Dimitru’s lair before she got her feet moving again.
Marie hurried behind him, restraining herself from calling out for him to wait up. His footsteps had slowed when he hit the intersecting corridor, and he held out a hand as she came up behind him. She reached for it, not really knowing why, though the entire house gave her the creeps. It was dark and gloomy, and now they had to go face Dimitru. Yuck.
He squeezed her hand and then led her down the side hall to the office with a guard standing outside. The guard stepped back and opened the door for them before returning to his stance.
Malcolm nodded and went through. “Everything is running as it should. There was a slight glitch in your motion sensor software, but once I removed the last of the software from the previous security company, the glitch disappeared. I’m getting all of the readings in my program. And if there’s anything that comes up, I—or one of my associates—will call you.”
Dimitru stood and came around the desk, nodding. “See you do.”
The pompous ass couldn’t express gratitude if his life depended on it, and the stillness in Malcolm at the response had Marie stepping forward and holding out her hand. “I guess we’ll be on our way, then.”
Dimitru held a moment, but not long enough to set off her internal alarms. Such a fine line, which seemed to have darkened because of her dislike for the guy.
“I hoped to provide a nice dinner for you after you were finished here. Perhaps a night on the town. Portland does have some wonderful nightlife.”
“Our flight home leaves this afternoon,” Malcolm answered for her.
Marie shrugged. “He’s right.” She stepped back. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Perhaps next time,” Dimitru said, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand then let it go. Like the perfect gentleman. Only it left her feeling queasy.
She forced herself to walk out as if the devil wasn’t on her tail. Malcolm’s presence next to her helped, leaving her wondering how she was ever going to pull off the second half of this grift.
***
“You going to be okay?” Malcolm asked as he threw his bag into the back of the cab. “And the airline changed your ticket.”
“Yes. I’m fine. By nine o’clock this evening, I’ll be sitting on my Uncle Bert’s back porch, enjoying the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean.” She hesitated. “Please. Come with me. A couple days to unwind and let off some steam. I can show you my old haunts, and we could pretend we’re friends.”
“We are friends, Marie.” She stared at him, and he rolled his eyes, conceding her silent rebuke. “Fine, we’re very, very, very good bedroom friends. We respect each other in the work environment—”
Stifling a laugh, she reached in beyond him for his bag. “We became friends. We’re friends now. Stay. Let�
��s go on an adventure, Malcolm. The two of us, for a few days. You’ll like my uncle. I promise. He’ll share his Țuică, and you’ll both be drunk as skunks trying to play his mandolin.”
In a way, she was begging. She’d been alone her entire life, no other family. And a thief, living like a nomad, with her uncle since her parents’ deaths, so she probably hadn’t had too many friends, either. Like him.
But he’d chosen his solitude.
Marie hadn’t.
And she was right. They were friends. And friends protected each other. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I will take a few days off, if only to keep you out of trouble! Because you—you have plans for something, and I will figure out what it is.”
Her grin was reward enough, and the light in her eyes struck him with a hammer of humility. Don’t mess this up, dumbass. Don’t hurt her.
Hell, he’d already messed it up when he slept with her. But the problem was “messed up” didn’t seem the right term. More like “set his world straight.” Now he was going to take a vacation with her and visit her uncle, stay in her home…and do all this get-to-know-you shit, which was going to lead to feelings. She might be a thief, but she was still a woman. “Come on,” he grumbled.
She grinned, making the decision—possible mistake—easier to swallow.
Chapter Ten
The farther out of the city they drove, the prettier it got. Pine trees, shorter shrub bushes…and green, even in these late fall months. The wind bashed against the car, a gale-force power that rattled the windows. And he knew outside their little climate-controlled vehicle, the air had taken a turn for the colder. But the life it stirred up was what drew him in. Birds flapping through the gusts, leaves blowing across the road.
He’d been a city boy most his life, but after hooking up with Hawk Elite, he’d learned to appreciate the smaller city and the slower pace. Maybe it had started before Hawk Elite. Heather’s biggest complaints while they were married involved where they lived, even when he’d had no choice at all.
I need the city, Mal, so I can find something to do. I’m dying in this place, and you don’t even care!
Malcolm rested his elbow on the door. He’d bought her anything she wanted. And when he’d been home, he thought they did okay—as okay as any couple.
But the activity level she insisted on started to grate, and he’d been more and more ready to escape with every deployment, every training session. He’d begun signing up to train for shit he would never really use—if he could get away with it. Hell, he’d have been an S1 desk jockey if it kept him alone. In an office. Doing paperwork.
He liked the lack of people. Nowadays, even Raleigh seemed too crowded to him.
“Don’t be so quiet over there. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Marie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. She was in movement almost always, unless she was sleeping. She smiled at him. “Don’t be ornery. You could have said no.”
Begrudgingly, he nodded. “I know. I guess I was looking for a reason to take a break.” He eyed her, a slow gaze from her head to her toes and back up. “You’ll do.”
“You don’t scare me.”
Looking out the window again, he hummed a response, not surprised, wishing she was a little frightened…or wary enough to back away from him. He didn’t do relationships well. He didn’t do people well. It would be better if she had left him to go home to Raleigh.
But she wasn’t scared. That was part of the problem. She egged him on even when she thought he didn’t like her. And then still wanted to be around him. “Why do you even want me here?”
Marie mimicked his gaze, sending a slow glance to his lap and back up. “You’ll do.”
He bit his lip on the grin wanting to break on his face. “Okay. I deserve that.”
“You only act all rough.” She sniffed. “I know better. I’ve learned. After all these months, I better have learned something working with you, right?”
“Good point.”
“And you’re a decent fuck.”
“Now,” he admonished with a frown, “a great fuck.”
Her laugh rang out, sending his blood racing. He liked flirting with her, and smiled as he rested his head and closed his eyes. Long night, long day…
She’d been an easy companion as they worked together. She’d stayed out of the way, which was usually his biggest issue when working with others. They wanted to somehow learn what he did, as if they could possibly do what he did.
Marie had stayed back the entire time, but been more than willing to step up at a moment’s notice. It had been refreshing. Not everyone was so good at taking commands and following directions. And now he knew she was a good driver, too. Kept her hands steady on the wheel, even in the buffeting winds, and maintained a decent speed—not too slow, not too fast—which surprised him at first, but then he thought about how her parents had died in a car wreck.
When they bumped onto a dirt road, Malcolm opened his eyes and sat up straight.
He saw the ocean, but it looked more like blackened, cracked glass beneath smoky-gray skies above. Rocks jutted up from the coast; grand fucking monuments was what they were. “Jesus, it’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Turning south, she wound with the road parallel to the water until he couldn’t see the shore anymore, only the trees and brush. “We’re about thirty feet above sea level at the house,” she explained, pulling the car to a stop in front of a two-story cottage. “We’ve got a great view of the sunset out off the cliffs. There’s nothing better. I swear it.”
“You don’t have to,” Malcolm murmured as he opened the car door.
Wind cut through his light jacket but was surprisingly warm, warmer than the air had been in the city. He reached in the back for his duffel and messenger bag. He grabbed Marie’s as well and then carried them both to the front porch. But he didn’t go up, merely left them on the top step.
Glancing back at Marie, who watched him with a curious gaze, he let the seaside soak through his him. “Can I walk around?”
She nodded and walked toward him.
The somewhat deteriorated state of the stone foundation of the house had him making a mental note. The siding could use a paint job, but the roof looked new. As he approached the back porch, he found some of the floorboards replaced, but left unpainted, which he imagined in this climate meant the wood would be destroyed in a season, if it lasted all season without warping.
The sun stretched toward the horizon, not quite sitting on the water yet. Everything it touched glowed a funny orange. He took a deep breath of the sea air and closed his eyes, knew the moment she silently came up beside him, holding her breath. Wondering if he liked it?
It wasn’t the Taj Mahal, it was humble and maybe slightly in disrepair…
“So, this is home,” he said, looking at her and then holding her gaze. He hadn’t thought she would care what other people thought. “You’re lucky,” he added. It was enough to deflate the funk she’d gotten herself in.
“Marie?”
Malcolm turned to the older man who came out the back door and hobbled down the stone steps at the back of the house. Marie squeezed Malcolm’s elbow before she left his side and ran.
Her voice was lost in the wind, but the embrace was telling, and made Malcolm uncomfortable enough to find his way closer to the water. Another path led him away from the house, and he was surprised by how sandy the ground was. As he approached the shoreline, the rocks jutting from the ground grew out, separating into a sloping U. At the bottom of the U, a rail edged the cliff Marie had been talking about. Off to the right, an opening in the rail led to a stairwell down to the beach floor. He leaned over the railing and peered down the edge.
Thirty or so feet, like she’d said.
There was a calm pool of water between the rocks directly under him, but ten feet in either direction the water sprayed, ravaging the shore with its power. “Jesus. Look,” he muttered. “Fucking gorgeous.”
�
�Powerful, isn’t it?” She’d come up on him, the noise of the shore covering her approach. “My mom used to freak out if she caught me out here. Hell to pay and all that.”
“How old were you when they died?”
“Eight.”
He nodded. “And Uncle Bert? Did he care as much?”
She gave him a devilish grin. “No. I had free rein of the place, usually. I didn’t really discover until a little later. After the shock of losing my parents…wore off.” She hesitated. “That sounds cold.”
“Not really. It’s merely human nature to move on and accommodate to new settings.” He knew all about that. “I was in foster care, moving from one place to the next every six months, for ten years. It’s okay to let people go and find happiness in a new life.”
“Your parents?”
He shrugged. “They were never in the picture.”
Her frown reminded him they weren’t as close as he’d been seduced into thinking.
“How did you meet your ex-wife?”
His wall of protection slammed into place. “You really want to talk about my ex-wife?”
“Yes. I want to know everything about you. You know me. You’ve done your research, observed me, we’ve talked about my past. What about yours? What makes you so ornery and untouchable?”
His mind careened to other sorts of touching. He cleared his throat as he forced himself to think back on those days with Heather.
“We met in high school. And then dated through our senior year.” Marie shivered. He put an arm around her shoulders and turned her back to the house. “When I enlisted, she wanted to come along, and I liked having her around. She’d become a constant.”
“She did your laundry? Made your dinner? Warmed your bed?”
He was embarrassed by the answer. “No, no, and yes.”
“Really?”
“She was pretty high-maintenance, even through high school. Should have been my first clue. But I was too stupid.”