Marlena bent down to pet the drooling bulldog that guarded the door. The dog’s tag read THELMA, and she rolled over, begging for belly rubs.
A door opened behind Marlena, and she jumped, her heart racing. Panic seized her throat. She spun to see Trace leaning against the doorjamb. His muscles popped in the cotton shirt, the colors tattooed on his arms making her want to inch closer just to touch them.
“Hey, you.” His eyes danced, alert to the fact that she’d been staring and having a heart attack at the same time.
“Sorry.” The more time that passed, the jumpier she became, especially after the interrogation she had just suffered through. That stupid reaction had been happening ever since she had woken up in Mr. Romatar’s compound and continued after her rescue. It had to be an after-effect of the abduction, but still, it was embarrassing.
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His quiet smile didn’t do much to still her spastic thoughts. “Little bit edgy, huh?”
“No. I don’t. Yeah, I guess so.”
His smile morphed into something more confident, and he strolled to the table and grabbed a chair, pushing it to her. It rolled over, and he sat in another. Thelma ran to him, jumping into his lap.
Trace grunted as the dog landed. “Good Lord, Thelma. You’ve been eating rocks lately?”
He grabbed a handful of furry wrinkles and rubbed while the dog stretched in his lap. Marlena took a seat in the chair and pivoted back and forth. Alone under fluorescent lights, her ballsy let’s-jump-in-the-shower promise seemed insane. She wanted it so badly and couldn’t match the level of hotness this guy had. She was so out of his league. He even liked dogs. Hugging a wrinkly bulldog was pretty much the only thing that could make this guy any better looking.
“So, Marlena.”
He made her name sound like sex. She’d heard her name a million times, during twenty-one years walking the earth, and never once had it made her want to get naked. When Trace said her name, she prayed the fabric would just melt away. Looking down just to double-check, a smidge of disappointment teased her when she saw herself fully clothed.
She bit her lip then forced a smile. “So, Trace.”
“I get the feeling you’ve been thrown to the wolves recently. Sergeant Dick and Captain Shithead looked about as nice as fucking on sandpaper.”
Her brows furrowed. “Guess that wouldn’t be too nice.”
“You’re not military, are you?”
“No.” She tilted her head, toying with a stray strand of hair. “You really don’t know anything about me? They just sent you to find me and bring me home?”
“Yup.”
“Well, it wasn’t because they were concerned about me, that was for sure,” she scoffed.
“You’re in intelligence?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?” he asked.
“I’m a biological engineering student. Getting my bachelor’s and master’s in a combined accelerated program, and I lucked into this program.” She used air quotes on lucked. “My freshmen year, I wrote an article that was picked up by a scientific journal. Guess I piqued the government’s interest. They came calling. The rest is history.”
“Oh.” He winked. “So, you’re smart.”
That made her laugh. “Depends.”
“I like smart.”
And that made her blush. She could feel the hot flash move across her cheeks. “Um…”
“You need a ride? You look exhausted.” He tossed up his hands. “In a you’re-very-pretty kind of way.”
An ache eased in her chest. She hadn’t realized it was there, but since it had dissipated, she could relax more with him. “A ride home would be appreciated.”
“Thought you didn’t have a home anymore.”
“You were listening,” Marlena said.
“Surprising, right?”
“Not that surprising.” She threw her hands up with a laugh. “In a you’re-a-very-macho-listener kind of way.”
He stood, pushing Thelma off his lap. “Cute. Come on.” With a hand on her back, he walked her to the door. She couldn’t help but notice that between the time she’d been left with Titan honchos and secret project pricks, Trace had showered. He smelled squeaky clean. She, on the other hand, needed a shower.
Scooting in front of him, his hand caught her elbow, pulling her close. “What’s the deal with you and running off?”
“You’re very clean.” She made a face. “And I’m very not.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Whoa, baby, I sure noticed. She wasn’t sure if he had just lied, but she prayed he hadn’t. “Let’s just keep some distance between us. I’m pretty sure if I don’t find a toothbrush soon, both of us will be totally grossed out.”
“Whatever you say, hot stuff.” He patted her bottom as they left the room.
Behind her, Thelma rolled over and groaned. Marlena bit her bottom lip, unsure of what she should think or say. Instead of doing either, she trailed behind Trace through a labyrinth of security doors until they were in a parking lot. Not her favorite type of place. Every time she saw one, she thought about Mr. Romatar’s people grabbing her, shoving a rag in her mouth, and watching her wake up when they were on a plane flying to what she’d since then discovered was South America.
It was time to fake confidence again, because surely Trace wasn’t the type of man to hang out with weak girls. They reached a black car with black windows, and he beeped it unlocked then grabbed her door.
“Need a hand in?”
She jumped into the car, fumbling the handle and closing herself away from him. “I’m good.”
Right. Super-duper confident. She hung her head until he joined her in the front seat. Then she looked out the window, feeling like the most awkward girl ever. “My place is off exit twenty-one. It’s a temporary until…” Until I figure out where I should go and why I’m so dang lost. “Until something better comes along.”
The parking garage was a cement maze full of barriers and security measures. It was more secure than any secret location she’d been whisked away to for her project.
After a few minutes on unmarked roads, Trace hit the highway. “I’ve got a temporary place now, courtesy of Titan.” He mumbled something she couldn’t make out. “Too bad I’m climbing the walls.”
She turned, not expecting him to say that at all. “You? You’re the calmest person I’ve ever met.”
He chuckled. “Not all the time I’m not, Cinderella.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve been forced stateside. I’m not handling it well, but it had to be done. So, I’m doing it.”
Trace didn’t live here? “Where would you be?”
“Anywhere else.”
“Germany?”
“No…” He shook his head. “I was following up on an investigation of sorts.”
“Sounds vague. Is everything you do for Delta or Titan, whoever, is it all—”
“That was a personal project.”
“Oh,” she said.
“When we’re off the job, I have something I’ve been working on for a few weeks now.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer but just changed lanes needlessly. “You hungry? I’m going to grab a burger from a drive-thru.”
Sore subject. That was interesting, because she thought nothing fazed him. “Burger’s good. Thanks.”
They went through the drive-thru and left with bags of food, eating quietly as he drove. He took an exit and followed her directions to her house. Then they were home, the end of the road for her time with him.
She looked at the condo duplex while they sat in her driveway. Everything felt tense. It wasn’t sexual tension, but more like she’d said something that went too deep. “Thanks again.”
Trace nodded, and a car zoomed down her street. She flinched. It was just someone racing down the block. So stupid. Her lungs had almost jumped out of her chest for no reason. God, she was a j
ittery moron. It was embarrassing. She couldn’t go around hopping in the air every time a car made a noise or a door slammed.
“Marlena?”
Her eyes shot to him. She knew he could see right through her. Weak. Still, she painted on her smile. “Yes?”
“I’ll call you later, make sure you’re doing okay.”
“You don’t have my number.”
“Not sure why that would stop me from calling you.”
“It’s new and unlisted.”
His face tightened as though he were running through the possibilities as to why. “That’s interesting. Call you later.”
Marlena opened the door and got out. Why did she constantly offer information that wasn’t needed? For the same reason she’d run from him: she couldn’t control herself around him, and that was scary. From then on, every interaction with him would be mapped out. Except they had no plans. She’d been a one-night stand he happened to rescue, and his offer to call was an easy way out of an uncomfortable drive home. Still, it couldn’t hurt to hope she was wrong.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Marlena walked through the door of her place, she was surrounded by desolation. It was so empty. She’d lost her cell phone when the Romatar men abducted her. But there was still her landline. She never used it, yet it was there, mocking her after Trace had said he’d call. The only reason she had a phone at home was in case of emergency. It was a silly safety net.
She showered, nuked a microwavable dinner, and vegged out in front of the TV. Tucked into a blanket, sleep called for her—
The ringing of her home phone jolted her awake.
No way did he call, just no way. But her phone rang, echoing from the kitchen… and maybe this was a dream. She stared toward the kitchen in absolute disbelief. He couldn’t have taken the time to look up her unlisted number. Right?
Jumping up with the blanket tucked around her, Marlena shuffled for the phone. “Hello?”
“Told you I’d call.”
Her stomach fell, but she smiled. “You did.”
But “why” was the question. There was no reason for him to throw her a pitying bone. If he hadn’t wanted to call, he’d never see her again.
Trace cleared his throat. “Are you surviving okay at your place? Because I hate mine.”
“I dozed off on the couch while watching TV.” God, she sounded like a loser. Why say that?
Trace laughed. “Me too. Bored as hell. I hit up a game of pool with the guys then came back here. To a townhouse. In a car. Shit.”
“I don’t get it. How else would you have driven home?”
He laughed again. “I’m not really a car guy.”
“Oh. You’re a… like a truck guy or something?”
“I can deal with any good set of wheels that make a fun time out of escape and evade. I guess the Charger’s okay. It can gun it and all. But… a car and a house make me feel antsy, that’s all. Anyway. What’s the deal with your new digs?”
She’d already fessed up about being home alone with nothing to do. “The job’s to blame.”
“Too simple, Marlena. Something else is there.”
“You’re right, but I don’t want to get into it.”
“Fair enough. Are you still jumping when doors shut and cars drive by?”
She sucked in a breath. “No!”
“Right.”
“Well, I’ve been by myself. No cars or doors to make me jump.”
“It’s not abnormal after the shit show you were pulled through.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.”
He didn’t say anything, and they sat there. She twirled the phone cord around her finger and leaned against the wall. There was a nice level of comfort knowing he was there. If a door slammed, maybe she wouldn’t jump. Then again, she was supposed to be alone, so if a door slammed, she should jump. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His low voice made her shiver. “I shouldn’t have left you earlier. I shouldn’t… be saying that. Hell, Mar. I have to go.”
“Wait!” Wait, what? A man ditching her shouldn’t be such a surprise except that it was, and deep down, it felt as though maybe he needed her that moment more than she needed him. “Trace?”
Seconds floated by. “Yeah?”
Her dad would bet against her. Brian would shake his head and say that no one needed her. Marlena closed her eyes and shook her head. Fuck Brian, that piece of shit dad. “I don’t want to be alone tonight either. But I’m not good for much. I’m just—”
“Meaning what?”
“I’m too tired to jump you in bed, and I’m too jumpy to be good company. I need to get out of my house. I just—”
“One eleven Mason Brick Drive.”
She would’ve expected nerves or anxiety. Anything but the calm that made her feel free from her personal demons. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
***
Walking around barefoot and in jeans, Trace drained a beer and stared at his cell phone. The smart move would’ve been to call her and say he couldn’t keep his eyes open. That maybe another time would be better, like when she was raring to go and wanted to strip down naked. But that wasn’t in the cards tonight. They hadn’t been home from South America more than twenty hours. Sure, she said she’d dozed. But after what she went through, she probably needed an Ambien and a few days of sleep.
Headlights hit his driveway, and she was there. Damn, if there wasn’t a stirring in his chest. He opened the door and watched her get out of her car then went outside. “Red car, red hair. Suits you.”
She scoffed but then put too much assurance into her voice. “Absolutely. Power color.”
Something didn’t jibe, but he didn’t care. “Red’s sexy. No idea about power colors. Like I said, it suits you, Cinderella. Come on.” He took her small hand in his and led her up the stairs. “This is it. Looks decent, feels like a jail cell.”
As she took in the room, he took her in. Pajamas. A cotton T-shirt and flannel pants with little water skiing panda bears in Santa hats. If outside in the dark, she’d been sexy, inside… this whole look… it was cute.
She caught him looking. “What’s that half-smile, half-frown thing? If you don’t like my jammies, too bad.” She twirled in a circle. “I’m—hey, are you watching one of those Bourne movies?” And just that fast, she plopped on his couch, tucking her legs under her butt.
The girl liked thriller spy flicks. Add another point in the cool-chick column. Nothing she did was expected. “Want a beer?”
“It might put me to sleep.”
He tilted his head. “You’re dressed for it.”
Her eyes raked over his bare chest. “I…”
“I’ll get you that beer.” Because for once it felt like he should think of someone besides himself for a change. The woman could barely stand. The clothes she wore served as a sign to stay away. But he just couldn’t. He needed a freakin’ barrier. “A beer and a blanket.”
A minute later, he had a cold one in her hand and a blanket over her legs. He sat in the middle of the couch and pulled her close to him. She smelled like sugar, and it might’ve been his death sentence, sitting there with her all cute and smelling like the first time he’d had her. Mouth watering, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on Matt Damon blowing shit up. It didn’t work. Instead, he heard the IED blasts that stole his brother away from him. A growl roared up; his eyes shot open. He was ready to tear the walls down and—Marlena was asleep, nestled between the arm of his couch and his bare chest. Her just-opened beer was balanced loosely in her hand. God, she was beautiful.
Trace set her beer on the coffee table and scooped her up in the blanket. Without thinking, he headed toward the bedroom and laid her in his bed, crawling next to her. Marlena sighed softly but didn’t wake. “I don’t know what to think about you, Cinderella.”
He curled around her sleep-lax body and kissed her sugar-scented hair. If he
were ever to be normal, if he didn’t have a wicked fight brewing deep in his chest to retaliate for Michael’s death, then that moment might have been his heaven.
***
Marlena woke surrounded by hard warmth. She wasn’t in Mr. Romatar’s compound, this wasn’t her bed… The night before flashed in her memory. The last thing she remembered was sipping a beer and snuggling next to Trace. Slowly, she turned over, and there he was—rugged, and inches away from her. In his bed. Her stomach surged into her throat.
“Morning,” he whispered.
Unsure of the right thing to say, she sat up. “I should go.”
The heavy weight of his arm flopped over her and pulled her tight. “You should not.”
He couldn’t possibly want her to stay. Right? Instead of voicing that, she lay straight as a spike and stared at his ceiling.
“Marlena.”
“Hmm?”
“Go back to sleep.” His morning, gritty voice raked over her senses.
“I’m really okay. I should get—”
Trace took her face in his hands and leveled her with the softest kiss she could imagine. His full lips brushed over hers; his tongue teased. She melted against him, needing that reassurance and hating that one kiss, and she was a mess.
“Now can we go back to sleep?” His phone rang. “What the fuck now?”
Hand slapping all around his nightstand, he finally found it and answered. The alarm clock read six in the morning. Who would call so early?
“Got it,” he said to the caller after a few seconds. He rubbed his face and sat up. The blanket slipped off him, and even through his jeans, she could see that he had a hard-on. “Don’t mind me.”
Trace stretched and crawled out of bed. Every muscle in the man’s body was carved. Corded. Holy moly, she might pass out. Had she ever seen something so ruggedly handsome? And the tattoos… A work of art. That was the only way to describe him.
“We’ve got a job, and I’ve got to run.” He dropped his jeans and walked toward his closet.
Holy moly? More like “Holy butt cheeks.” Marlena sucked a breath, fell back on the bed, and covered her face with a pillow. “Trace, you are too much to handle.”
Delta: Retribution Page 4