by Em Petrova
She was finished. Her documentary wrapped up. Maybe not tied in a pretty satin bow yet, but she’d finished the rough draft, at last.
A stupid grin broke over her face. If anybody walked in and saw her right now, they’d think she’d lost it. Her smile spread wider and a whoop of joy burst out.
“I did it. Ethan, I finished it.”
For several minutes she continued to sit there staring at the first frame of the film without screening it. She just needed a moment to drink it all in and revel in her success.
She cranked up some music and sang along for the sheer freedom of being finally done and on her way to earning that degree.
When the knock sounded on the door, she cut off mid-chorus.
She jumped out of her seat and rushed to answer it, her heart already flying high at seeing River.
Whipping it open, she set eyes on him. Safe and gorgeous and holding a takeout bag filled with what smelled like tacos.
He stepped inside and shut the door. “Did you even check who was outside before you opened the door?”
She gaped at him. “Uh.”
He set the bag on the floor and grasped her by the upper arms. When he stared at her that way, she sucked in a deep breath. “Don’t you realize how important you are to me, Sascha? You have to take precautions.”
“I wasn’t thinking. I figured it was you at the door.”
“But it might not have been.”
“I have another guard outside. He wouldn’t allow someone to waltz up to the door.”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss between her brows. “That’s not the point. I can’t always be here to watch over you.”
She put her arms around his neck and anchored her body against his, from shoulder to thigh. “I see you’re struggling with the idea of us having a relationship when we’re apart a lot.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Have you been thinking about it too?”
“No.” Her tone held all the confidence in the world that they could make it work. “I just know you, River. You protect and take on responsibility for everyone. I…I think I see why too.”
He rubbed his hands down her spine. “I’m listening.”
“It’s because of Ethan. That scar runs deep. He followed your footsteps, and when he died you took responsibility for it. But he knew what he was getting into when he enlisted, the same as you. Even though you claim to love me, you can’t always be here with me. If you worked in an office, you’d still be away from me part of the day. I could get into an accident or trip and—”
“None of that will happen,” he cut her off.
She rubbed her thumb over his lips. “I have some news to share with you.”
He searched her eyes.
“I finished my documentary.”
A grin spread across his face. “That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you.”
Suddenly shy, she asked, “Would you like to see it?”
“Absolutely.”
More enthusiastic about his response, she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the table. She paused the music that blasted from the speakers and sank to the chair. When she clicked play on her film, she alternated between watching the screen and River’s reaction.
It reached a particularly intense part, but his expression remained unchanged.
Worry settled in her stomach.
An uplifting moment came on the screen. Of course she felt a twinge of emotion—it was her work. But River didn’t respond at all.
With a frown, she studied his face. Maybe he’d had a horrible day. Lord knew what the man got involved in. He may not be in the mood for watching right now.
Or she’d wasted her time and it really was garbage.
She gripped her hands in her lap and tried to still the butterflies in her stomach. If she couldn’t handle the man she loved watching her work, how would she ever deal with an auditorium full of professors and film students?
When a few more minutes passed, she hit pause. “You get the idea. It’s long, and I’m sure you’ve had a busy day.”
River lifted his gaze from the screen and directed it on her. He looked…worried.
His brows pinched as though watching had caused him pain or trauma.
“You don’t like it.”
“It’s not that. It’s well-filmed.”
Her heart sank. Well-filmed was the equivalent of ‘it’s okay.’ Nothing special stuck out about her work to make him feel…well, anything.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Salt stung her tongue, but she refused to break down.
He pulled up a chair and sank to it, taking her hand. “Why did you choose this topic?”
“Because it’s important to the world. It’s relevant to today’s culture!” Agitation worked through her system, and those tears that threatened a minute ago receded on a huff of anger.
“Are you doing this topic to support a friend or a family member who’s struggled with it?”
“No. I mean, I’ve known people who are gay, but we weren’t close enough to discuss their problems.”
He turned her hand over in his so her palm lay upward. “I wonder if you might be better off doing a subject you’re more passionate about.”
She shot to her feet, tearing her hand free of his hold. “I am passionate about it!”
He scratched his head as if he was unsure how to deal with her outburst.
Her anger blazed to life. She swore she saw a wall of flames spanning between her and River.
“Well, you’ve got your own issues you won’t even talk about! Not even to me, after you told me you love me. I’m not sure that’s true, if you don’t trust me enough to confide in me.”
He shook his head like she’d struck him and slowly gained his feet to face her. “What are you talking about?”
“You hold everything in. Bottle it up. I bet you’ve never talked about Ethan. About that day. Have you ever discussed your brother’s alcoholism with a friend? I had to practically pull out of you why you were in Texas.”
She already regretted her explosion. She hated arguments, and this was their first.
Then she spotted her paused documentary out of the corner of her eye, and it flared up again.
He dropped his hands to his sides, but they were clamped into fists.
Another knock on the door had him throwing out a hand to stop her from answering it. “I’ll go.”
She twisted to her computer. She wasn’t a violent person, but she could flip the table and destroy her laptop right now. After all the struggle of gaining footage, piecing it together, losing hope, losing heart… Then her great computer crash and the files that couldn’t be recovered because they were corrupt.
Finally, she dug deep and found the ambition to finish, and River told her to find a topic she was passionate about.
She heard him talking in a low voice to another man. Then he closed the door.
His footsteps approaching behind her filled her with longing and dread at the same moment.
“Sascha.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
“I need to be alone, River. I need to collect myself.”
His hand fell away. “I understand. And I’m sorry. I have to go. That was Gasper at the door—the team needs me with them.”
She wanted to scream that she needed him with her right now, to take her in his arms and assure her that she hadn’t run inches away from the finish line only to learn she was talentless and had wasted all her time.
When she remained silent for several heartbeats, River said, “I’ll give you some space.”
The walls of her soul caved in. I failed, Ethan. I let all of us down.
Five seconds passed.
She twisted to find River gone. The door closed.
Shadow. They call him Shadow.
Ten more seconds ticked by.
Dammit, he walked out of here like a shadow. I didn’t even hear his footsteps or the door shut.
Two minutes later she released her iron grip on the back of
the chair. Her anger fizzled out, but that was worse, because in flooded remorse.
Bowing her head, she felt those tears rise again.
She dropped to the chair and closed her project. Looking at it hurt too much right now, like studying months for a test and flunking.
Of course River hadn’t meant to hurt her—she knew that. But what he said about lacking passion had been a thin knife blade passing between her ribs and hitting her in the spot that left her bleeding.
Passion took on a lot of meanings. It meant love or lust. A drive to do something or be someone. A torch carried until a goal was accomplished.
Did she feel any of those things when it came to the film she just created?
“Oh God,” she murmured. She didn’t.
She wasn’t aware she’d brought Ethan’s video onto her screen until she was looking at her brother’s beloved face. That grin. The flash of his eyes.
She dug her fingertip into the edge of her desk. She’d seen a similar look on another military officer’s face. Captain Penn Sullivan’s. Special Operative Harris Lipton’s.
She quickly transferred files off her phone to her computer. When she began watching the film she’d shot that night after the concert, when they were all together in the SUV, the men joking and carrying on…
Tears filled her eyes so the images on the screen wavered.
Passion. She’d filmed a piece that had the same flare Ethan’s did. The video she loved watching so much, and not only because she knew some of the people in the video. His passion for his brothers, life and fighting for what he believed in spilled into his film work.
So did hers.
She’d managed to capture things she loved about his recording—the spirit, drive, determination and patriotism.
Feeling a hundred different emotions at once, she didn’t immediately move when she heard the knock.
“River!” She rushed to the door—taking care to look through the peephole since she caught hell for it before.
She blinked at the person standing on the stoop. Not River, but Emerson.
Why had he come? She couldn’t recall ever telling him where she lived.
But that wasn’t so unusual, was it? Maggie knew, because she’d dropped her off once after a meeting. Suddenly, she recalled that she hadn’t seen all the Xtreme Ops team standing there by River when she looked through the peephole that night.
Maggie and Blake could be standing there with Emerson.
She opened the door and immediately wanted to slam it shut again.
“Hi, Emerson.” She swung the door enough to make it evident he wouldn’t be invited in.
The wind kicked up, sending the ends of his scarf flying to the side. “Hey. We missed you tonight at group.”
“Oh. I must have forgotten.” After learning she and River were in danger, no wonder she stopped caring about a critique group.
“I wondered if you didn’t come because of your computer.”
She stared at him.
“I thought you might still be having issues with your computer after the crash. I took a few tech classes and I’m decent at it. I stopped to see if you’d like me to have a look.”
“How nice of you, Emerson. No, it’s not my computer. Actually, I just finished my documentary.”
His smile spread. “Fantastic news. I know you were having some roadblocks. I’m so happy to hear you worked through them.” He leaned in to say more quietly, “Gives some of us others who struggle some hope.”
Some of her former irritation for him showing up expectedly trickled away. “You’re really good, Emerson. I’m positive your end product will resonate with all your viewers.”
He flicked his head toward the street. A car sat parked in a ring of light from the streetlamp. “Want to grab a drink?”
“Not tonight. I’m pretty worn out after all that mental work.” She tapped her temple.
“Sure. Another time.” He stepped away. “See you at next group, I hope. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Something about his direct gaze sent a shiver down her spine.
She threw him a wave and then closed the door and twisted the lock, wishing that River had the chance to install that deadbolt and chain latch before now.
She peeked out of the peephole to make sure he was gone. And she checked the window too, ensuring the car was nowhere to be seen.
God, what a long day. The highs and lows felt like a rollercoaster and left her feeling wrung out. She could go for a cup of hot tea and a soak in the tub with some of her calming oils.
When she walked into her room, she stopped in the doorway, peering at her bed. The cover looked different. Rumpled. When she flipped on the light, she spotted small squares covering the whole surface.
If she wasn’t positively certain that River had never stepped foot in her room when he came by, she would think he’d made some romantic gesture.
Her veins turned to ice. She inched a step toward the bed, heart wild in her chest. Her breaths came in stutters and cut off completely when she saw what the items were.
Photographs. Every inch of her bed was covered in photos.
Terror told her to run. But her logical mind needed to find out what the photos were. Peering down, she stared at one and issued a strangled cry.
Every photo was of her or River.
Or of them together.
And whoever took them had been in her bedroom.
They might still be.
Oh my God. Emerson never should have been able to get past the man guarding my front door.
Chapter Twelve
Fucking car bombs sucked. But when one exploded outside the Widow Lamont’s house? All hell was breaking loose inside Hepburn’s mind.
Gasper and Beckett were searching the neighborhood for any trace of the killer. Two of the Xtreme Ops team were doing a sweep of the home along with a bomb-sniffing dog and his K-9 handler, who they’d worked with on several cases.
Penn waved Hepburn over, and he strode to meet him. “What are you thinkin’?”
He set his jaw. “This is no coincidence. This is the second instance a car’s been used to make a statement. The first time, the guy wanted us to find those photos—to show us who his next target is. The motherfucker was testing us. But this is rubbing our damn noses in it. He’s letting us see he’s in charge.”
“It’s not a coincidence, that’s for sure.”
The rescue medics had Mrs. Lamont in the rear of the ambulance, treating her for shock after the explosion. Though she wasn’t injured—just shaken up—her original state of mind hadn’t been very stable to begin with.
Penn turned to watch the ambulance crew close the door. Penn lifted a hand in thanks, and they returned it before climbing into the ambulance.
Hepburn stared at what remained of the car. “It’s no act of terrorism.”
“Penn!” Lipton barreled out of the house, leaping the steps to hit the ground at a dead run.
Penn and Hepburn raced forward to meet him.
“What happened? Is there another explosive planted in the house?” Penn demanded.
Lipton’s chest heaved. “Just got a call from the PD that another victim was found on the local beach. Looks like he washed up.”
“Now? This is all going down now?” Hepburn started to say more, but Penn received a call.
He listened for a moment, and Hepburn could count on one hand how many times he’d seen his captain upset.
The man went pale as he looked straight at Hepburn.
His chest burst with a kick of adrenaline. “What the fuck happened? Is it—” He yanked the phone from Penn’s hand and jerked it up to his ear, but the line had gone dead.
Penn leveled him in a look. “We’re rollin’ out. Gasper, you’re with us.”
Hepburn had no memory of getting in the SUV. When Penn started talking, he grabbed the dash and had to hold himself in place.
“Sascha’s guard was found dead? In the trash area?” If he wasn’t speak
ing, he’d think his goddamn heart had stopped.
“One of the tenants found him after taking out his trash.”
“There’s no guard on Sascha. Jesus Christ, this guy could have her right now!” Hepburn slammed a fist off the dash with a thunderous noise. The display of fury was nothing compared to what was going on inside him.
Inside, he was losing it.
He had to get to her. “Drive faster.” His tone was deadly. Penn jumped on the gas. In the back seat, Gasper was on the phone with the police department, barking instructions to get them into Sascha’s apartment and check on her.
Hepburn dropped his head into his hands but immediately looked up when Gasper’s tone changed.
He whipped around to stare at him. A thudding heartbeat later, Hepburn knew something bad happened.
Gasper lowered the phone from his mouth. “They’re in.”
“And?” he exploded.
He dropped his stare.
“She’s dead?” His hot whisper echoed the rage, fear and devastation inside him.
“She’s not there. But they found something else.”
“Gasper, what did they find?” Penn commanded in an even tone.
“Photos. Dozens of them. Pictures of you and Sascha.”
“He’s got her. He…” A wall of pain and dizziness slammed into him. He dug his fingers into his hair, wanting to tear apart anything in his path to reach her.
If she was still alive.
She has to be alive.
He’d brought her all the way to Alaska just for her to get killed because of him.
“This is my fault.”
“You can’t think about that right now, Hep. Focus on getting her back. ETA three minutes.”
“I questioned everyone but my own girlfriend. I never asked who her friends are…” He trailed off, thinking of that guy he’d passed outside her building that night.
“Glasses. Scarf. Wool peacoat.”
“What?” Penn snapped his head to look at him.
“Some guy outside her apartment.”
“Gasper, get on the cameras. Find every surveillance on the apartment complex, even if you gotta hack their doorbell cams. Shadow’s our go-to with that, but today’s your chance to shine.” Penn looped around to the neighborhood.