Pivot

by Kat Martin

  She barely hid a shiver at his tone. This was too much to handle. “Shouldn’t you be fighting, worlds away?” He’d become a marine at eighteen, and they’d lasted together until they’d turned twenty-one, when she just couldn’t handle the constant danger he lived in any longer. It had been six years without him, and no other man had come close. “Why are you here?”

  “Raider called and said you were in trouble.” He leaned back, out of her space, as if sensing she needed distance. “Who slapped you?”

  Yeah, that was Evan. A dog with a bone. “Some druggie taking my—” Panic slapped her, and she jumped up. “My tablet. Oh God.” She strode away from the sofa, her mind spinning. “Okay. Those jerks needed money. They’ll pawn it.” She had to start investigating pawnshops right away. But what if they didn’t pawn it? What if they found the materials on it? Her stomach rolled over. No. They’d pawn it. “I have to find it.”

  Evan stood, towering over her without meaning to do so. “A tablet? We can get you a new tablet, Peaches.”

  The familiar nickname nearly made her sway in place. Man, she’d missed him. “You don’t get it.” She whirled around, her breathing uneven. “My latest comic is on it, and it’s going to be featured at Comic-Con. If I turn it in next week.” The newest edition of Agent Nebula had taken her months to create, and yes, her hero smelled like mint and cedar. Darn it.

  Evan straightened. “Don’t you have pages around here you could copy?”

  Rolling her eyes actually hurt, but she accomplished the act anyway. “I draw everything on the tablet, Evan. Many of us do.” She had to start trying to find that tablet, but she couldn’t stop looking at Evan. He’d grown up nice, and that tough-kid look had turned into a badass-man one.

  “Haven’t you backed the work up?” His dark eyebrows slashed down.

  She nodded. “Well, kind of. It’s been a while, but I have some of it on Dropbox.” Not enough. She’d gotten caught up in drawing, as usual, and had not been practical. “That’s not the only problem. I have a copy of Malechi Three on there. The one that won’t be released for a month.” Malechi Three was one of the top comic books right now, and if it was pirated, her friend would lose hundreds of thousands . . . and probably his publisher.

  “Seriously?” Evan’s eyebrows lifted. “The Search for Matredomi?”

  Oh yeah. Evan had been way into comic books, and they’d shared that love for a while. In fact, he’d introduced her to the medium. Had her whole life been influenced by him? “Yes.”

  “How did you get that?”

  She sighed. “George Tribini and I are friends, and he gave me an early copy. We critique for each other once in a while.” Which might lead to George’s downfall. “I have to find that tablet.” And stop salivating over the hot man in her living room. They’d broken up for a reason.

  “Speaking of which, who nailed you and took your tablet, Michelle?” He crossed muscled arms.

  She ground her fist into one eye. “It doesn’t matter. Getting it back is what counts.” Since she’d warned Meri, her girlfriend would be safe, making Joey Bandini irrelevant. Unless he kept the tablet. “This is a disaster.” She looked for her phone. “I need to call Raider.” Maybe he could do a trace or something on Bandini.

  “He’s deep undercover,” Evan said. “It was a risk for him just to call me. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  Frustration heated her from head to toe, and she forced herself to focus. Evan was in front of her, with a gun, dressed like a civilian. “When did you get back to the States?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Two years ago. I left the service, established myself, and wanted to get settled down before . . .”

  She took a step back, her breath quickening. “Before what?”

  “Finding you. Looks like I have.”

  * * *

  The panic in the woman’s deep blue eyes wasn’t exactly reassuring. Evan held his ground, letting his words sink in. After they’d broken up, he’d done his duty with the Force Recon unit until injury forced him to take a second look at his life. He’d loved being a marine, but he’d reached that point where he wanted a home and a regular life.

  He had those things now. But something was still missing.

  He had to know if he and Michelle were the real thing, although those rumors about her dating George looked to be true. While he hadn’t been a monk in their years apart, no other woman made him feel an iota of what he felt for her. But they’d been young, and feelings were intense at that time of life. Whether it was the real thing or not, they had a past, and he was going to help her. One way or another.

  “You’re not a marine any longer?” Her voice wavered.

  “Once a marine, always a marine,” he responded instantly. “I’m no longer active duty, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She took another step back. “I didn’t know.”

  “It took me a while to get my feet under me.” That might be an understatement. Sometimes the nightmares still forced him to go running until dawn, but he was definitely better. Although this wasn’t the time to discuss it. “If this was a robbery, why haven’t you called the cops?”

  She blushed. “Long story.”

  “I ain’t leavin’ until I hear it.” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it roughened anyway. He had no plan to leave if she was in danger.

  Her chin was still delicate . . . and stubborn. “Fine. An asshat named Joey Bandini took the tablet because he’s chasing a friend of mine, who seems to be in a safe place now. I didn’t call the cops because Bandini is the father of my friend’s child, and she seems to think he might try for custody. I disagree, but she’s the mom, so her opinion trumps.”

  Evan would check out Bandini as soon as he had the full truth. “He slapped you?” Once he found the guy, he’d take out some of his frustration on the deadhead. That seemed okay.

  “Yes, but I’m fine.” She edged closer toward the bedroom, looking delicious in a tight shirt and form-fitting yoga pants that hugged her firm thighs and curvy ass. “Now, thanks for your help, but I’ve got this covered.”

  He almost laughed out loud. Instead, he let a slight smile curve his lips. “What else, Peaches?”

  Pink bloomed across her high cheekbones. Man, she looked good. Eyes bluer than any stone he’d ever seen, long, curly black hair, delicate features. She’d filled out in all the right places, too. “Fine. My mom was here, and who knows if she has warrants out on her or not.”

  His amusement morphed right to irritation. One of their main fights was over her willingness to take crap from that junkie. “You’re still in contact with Jayleen?” He’d never forgotten how soft-hearted Michelle could be.

  She stiffened. “Yes. She is my mother.”

  “That woman has never deserved the title.” Last time he’d seen Jayleen, she’d tried to shake him down for money and then had hit on him for the same reason. Michelle definitely deserved better, but since he’d never had a mother, he couldn’t really blame her for wanting to keep in touch with hers. But giving a junkie money was a mistake. “How much did you give her this time?”

  Michelle’s sweet jaw firmed. “Nothing. She’s clean now, Evan. Finally.”

  Right. That would last. Not. “Wait a minute. She was here after you were hurt? She left you?” His chest heated.

  Michelle’s gaze dropped. “Yes.” Then she stiffened, her head snapping up. “I figured Joey would pawn the tablet. Maybe Jayleen thought the same thing.” Michelle turned pale. “I have to get that tablet before she figures out what is on it. The woman thinks I’m some famous graphic artist, and if she finds my new comic, or if she finds George’s, she’ll . . .” Michelle bit her full bottom lip. “Who knows what she’ll do to get money.” Then she focused on him again. “I can handle it, however. I’ve got this covered, Evan. Go back to your life.”

  “No.” Yeah, being near her again had sent his blood moving like he’d run a 10K. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled out his phone and sent instru
ctions for his deputy, his one deputy, to run a check on Joey Bandini. Then he texted another number, this one given to him by Raider in case he needed federal help while Raider was undercover. “I’ll see if we can track Bandini and find your tablet.”

  She was cute when irritated. Or was that frustration? They looked the same on her. “You are not coming in here and taking over,” she muttered.

  He just had. So why fight about it? “You used to like it when I took over,” he rumbled.

  Her eyes flared. Very pretty blue flashed hot and bright. “Yeah, and then you left.”

  “I had a job to do, and I did it.” Not for one second did he regret his time with the military. Even when the nightmares tortured him into the dawn hours. “You just couldn’t stand all the risk that went with it, and I actually understand that. Never held it against you.” After her crappy childhood, he couldn’t blame her. He’d faced death more than a few times, and he was grateful to be alive. But alone. He was tired of being alone. “I’m home now. For good.”

  She crossed her arms. “That’s great for you. Good luck.”

  He’d forgotten how stubborn she could be. What was he dealing with here? “Are you seeing anybody? I read on a blog somewhere about you and George?” She wasn’t wearing a ring, so no fiancé. There could be a boyfriend. Made sense. Michelle was a beautiful sweetheart with a sharp wit and impressive talent. Full of curves, she was all lush woman. He’d purchased copies of every one of her comics through the years. “Is there a guy around?” If so, why had she called Raider instead of the boyfriend?

  “My love life is none of your business.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

  Okay. Maybe not so smart if she really thought that.

  Her phone buzzed, and she yanked it from her table to answer. “Hello?” Her eyes widened. “No, Jayleen. Wait a minute. That’s crazy. Just tell—” Her eyes closed and she set the phone down. “She hung up.”

  The skin prickled on the back of Evan’s neck. “What did she say?”

  Michelle opened her eyes. “Just that she has a line on getting a lot of money. I think she has a bigger score in mind than my laptop. Who knows. Whatever it is will be illegal and probably dangerous. We both know that.”

  Jayleen would have no problem dragging Michelle right into danger with her.

  Evan drew his wallet out from his back pocket and flipped it open to reveal his star-shaped badge. “Well, then. I guess we have a problem.”

  Chapter Three

  Even his truck smelled like him. Michelle settled back onto the leather seat of the old but well-kept vehicle. A truck that Miss A would’ve called a workingman’s truck. She smiled at the memory and then crossed off another entry on her list of pawnshops. She sighed.

  “There are a lot of pawnshops in Portland, Peaches,” Evan murmured, flipping on the windshield wipers as a light rain began to fall.

  She tried not to notice how strong his profile looked in the cocoon of the cab as he drove intently down another back street. “I know, but Joey needed a fix. I recognized the signs, and he’ll want money as soon as possible.” She hoped. If he’d taken the laptop out of the area, she was screwed. She should probably call George with a warning—maybe after checking a few more pawnshops. They’d only looked at three so far. “Let’s just stay away from the well-known ones that would ask too many questions about the tablet.”

  Evan cut her a sideways glance. “Familiar with the criminal aspect of pawnshops, are we?”

  “Of course. Jayleen has pawned everything you can imagine.” Her stomach ached. “In fact, that was always a sign that she was using and I was about to end up in another foster home.” Though she’d been lucky with some of her placements, that was for sure. “Let’s check this one out next.” She pointed to the next shop on her list, which was outside of Portland in one of those neighborhoods with litter on the street and bars on home windows.

  “Sure.” Evan peered into his side mirror and switched lanes to head onto the interstate.

  The rain increased in force, splattering loudly against the slightly fogging windows. She rested her head back and closed her eyes, her temples still aching.

  “Here.” Evan’s arm brushed hers, and he opened the jockey box.

  She opened her eyes to see a bottle of Advil next to a black gun. Nodding, she took the bottle and dropped two pills into her hand, tossing them back without water. She replaced the painkiller in the glove compartment without touching the weapon, and shut it. “You’re a sheriff.” The badge had been a surprise.

  “Yeah. Small town in Eastern Washington an hour from Spokane.” His lips tipped in a half smile. “Great place. Lots of pasture, farms, fishing, and wildlife. You’d like it.”

  She’d probably love it, but she knew him. “You can’t be happy in a quiet place.” One of the reasons he’d liked being a marine was the action. His temporary tranquil life wouldn’t last.

  “I am,” he said quietly.

  He couldn’t have changed that much. People never did. Oh, they tried, but she’d learned long ago that the true nature of a person remained the same. Truth be told, she’d loved Evan and hadn’t wanted to change him. Well, maybe a little, but she’d given up that dream years ago. “Are you seeing anybody in your small town?” Now why the heck had she asked that? And why had her lungs decided to hold her breath? Geez.

  “No.” He sped up to pass a logging truck. “How about you?”

  “Yes. Well, kind of,” she blurted out. Going on two dates was kind of dating somebody, right?

  “Kind of, huh? Is it George?” Evan’s hands remained loose on the wheel. Broad, wide hands with long fingers and an interesting scar across the knuckles of his right hand.

  “No.” She chuckled. “George and I are just friends. I started dating somebody else. Well, sort of.”

  “That doesn’t sound serious.”

  She crossed her arms. “It’s personal.”

  He turned fully her way then, his eyes darkening. “I took your virginity, baby. We are personal.”

  Her spine straightened even as her abdomen warmed. Her nerves short-circuited in a way they hadn’t in years, throwing her off guard. It didn’t help that he was beyond sexy-looking in the dimming light. “I believe I took yours, too,” she sputtered.

  His grin transformed his rugged face from deadly to charming in less than a heartbeat. “That you did. Nicely done, too.”

  She coughed up a laugh, her body relaxing. “You are impossible.”

  “So you’ve said. More than once.” He turned back to the road. “We’re half an hour away from the next shop. Lay your head back, shut your eyes, and let the Advil go to work on that headache.”

  “Stop bossing me around,” she muttered, putting her head back.

  “I’ve been hit in the head more than once,” he countered easily. “Trust me. You’ll feel better soon.”

  She closed her eyes. “Obviously you’ve been hit in the head. A lot.”

  He snorted. “Smart aleck.”

  She tried not to smile, she really did. The drumming rain, warm truck, and inherent safety surrounding her lulled her into a light sleep. The only time she’d felt truly safe in her life was with Evan. How had she forgotten that? As tranquility took her under, she returned to being fifteen years old again, arriving at her new foster home. Her fifteenth, to be exact.

  She stood in the parlor of a charming blue, two-story home on a quiet street and scrutinized the tons of framed pictures of bunches of kids on the mantel, beyond the floral sofa and cushy-looking chairs. The wooden floor gleamed, and no dust was apparent on the tables; the place smelled like fresh flowers, not cleansers.

  “Come into the kitchen and call me Miss A,” her new foster mom said, moving past the clean room.

  Michelle gingerly toed off her too small and too dirty tennis shoes and left them by the door, scrunching her toes in their threadbare socks to hide the holes before following Miss A. The woman was about two inches shorter than Michelle’s five-foot-four and dres
sed in nice white linen slacks and a purple silk shirt—both with no wrinkles, somehow. How did she stay unwrinkled in the Kentucky summer humidity?

  The cheery kitchen had lovely yellow walls, tons of appliances, granite countertops, and several windows that faced a large backyard with flower gardens, a rope swing, and what looked like a volleyball court.

  “What kind do you like?” Miss A asked, sweeping her hand toward several plates of cookies. “Those are chocolate chip, those are oatmeal, those sugar, and those peanut butter.”

  Cookies. Real, homemade cookies. They smelled delicious. Michelle’s stomach rumbled. “Um. I like them all.”

  “That won’t do.” Miss A bustled toward a cupboard and took out a blue plate. “Have one of each and let’s see. I love a good taste test.” She placed one of each cookie on the plate and gestured Michelle toward the round oak table with a vase of roses in the middle. “I love to cook and experiment.”

  Michelle hung in the entry way, hesitating.

  Miss A set down the plate and turned, her dark brown eyes softening. “It’s okay, Michelle. You’re welcome here and everything I have is yours. No tests, no right or wrong answers, just you.” Her black hair, streaked with gray, was piled up on her head; light, classy makeup covered her dark skin. She was the prettiest and most natural woman Michelle had ever seen. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

  Warmth overwhelmed the caution inside Michelle, and she moved toward the cookies.

  The back door banged open, and three teenaged boys boisterously tumbled inside. Her gaze caught on the first one and she couldn’t look away. Black hair, blue eyes, big and fit. A sparkle filled those eyes.

  He moved toward her, snatching a cookie off her plate. “Hi. I’m Evan.”

  She could only stare.

  Miss A sighed.

  “We’re here,” Evan said, enticing Michelle back to the present. She looked over at her first love, seeing the boy who’d become a man capable of fighting and defending. The one who loved action, even back then. Being near him was just too much.