She barely bit back a groan as he finally started to get up, his hands on either side of her head. Then she made the mistake of locking gazes with him.
Noses practically touching, his breath teased her lips.
He's going to know, she thought, panicked. How pathetic am I to have these feelings when we're in danger?
"How do you know from your beeper that it's safe?" she said in a rush, while trying to squirm out from under him.
She froze as he answered physically. His hips, now aligned with hers, pushed down, effectively holding her and getting her attention.
Don't look at him. This is embarrassing enough.
"Look at me."
"No."
"Anna."
The scent of cologne, magnified by his adrenaline, wrapped around her. Warm and utterly male, it enticed her to nuzzle the pulsing throat a kiss away. His weight settled down again, not crushing as before, but a welcome pressure to her swelling body. He whispered her name, a simple, torturous caress on the underside of her ear. She arched up, losing her mental battle in the rising need to be closer to him. One hand curled in the damp cotton between his shoulder blades, the other pressed flat and absorbed the heat over his heart. She turned and met his gaze.
Stunned, she stared, the expression on his face more erotic than the blatant, intimate pressure against her. Blazing, knowing, wanting eyes, a mirror of her feelings inside and out. He tilted his head to the side and lowered it. Breathing ragged, lips parted in reflection of his, she ignored the reflex to close her eyes. She wanted to see his desire, see what their kiss did to him and have her response doubled by watching it all play out in his eyes.
His lips skimmed hers, dry and smooth and way too brief.
One of them trembled.
He shifted onto his forearms and tunneled his fingers along her sensitive scalp, winding them into her hair and tearing a moan from her throat.
She wanted to forget everything but the man in her arms. When his body jerked at her touch, she smiled to herself and pulled him closer, exhilarated that he shared this madness.
Then only the cool air kissed her as he levered up and freed himself from her embrace. Dazed, she recognized sounds in the background – banging on the front door and her name being called.
Rico stood, held out a hand to help her up and pulled out his gun with the other. His face was uncompromising, his gaze never left the front door. The only sign of his desire was in the profile of his jeans, while she couldn't even breathe normally.
Humiliation surged through her. She wanted to run to her room and forget the way she all but begged him.
No, Anna, she reminded herself, you're an adult. Deal with this.
Ignoring his hand, she stood and straightened her clothes, inwardly cursing her shaking hands.
"Fine. Be that way," he said indifferently. "But remember you did forget to order me."
Her hands froze then continued their chore. She'd thought she couldn't get more humiliated. At least he'd reminded her why she couldn't afford to be intimate, emotionally or physically, with him.
"Anna!" The voice outside grew more insistent, reminding her the children were upstairs. Something she should have heeded earlier.
Rico reached out to close the slate-blue blinds over the sink, then strode to open the front door while she hurried into the den to compose herself. Did he think he could pull a caveman routine now because she'd—
Wait, she hadn't even kissed him! Muttering in disgust, she jumped at another of Pete Joncaluso's bellows and went to face the music, just beating Lina to the door.
"Anna, who the hell is this guy?" His stubble-laden jaw tight and eyes narrowed, Pete brought with him the scent of rain and cigarette smoke.
"He's—"
"Her lover," Rico interjected smoothly. The arm he threw around her shoulder may have looked loving, but it tightened like a vise.
To Pete's credit, he controlled his amazement as he scrutinized them. She forced herself to relax into Rico's side to further convince him. "I see. This happened—" he swallowed hard before continuing "—suddenly."
Anna opened her mouth to agree, but Rico tugged her closer and kissed her temple. Anna caught Lina's silent exit back the lies, she didn't know. She just wanted to go with her upstairs, whether to watch the twins or to stay untangled from the lies, she didn't know. She just wanted to go with her.
"These things usually do," Rico replied, his words reeking with satisfaction.
Shame scorched her. She could only imagine what Pete was thinking. He'd known her for two years, but that didn't guarantee he wouldn't think the worst of her for having an affair with a man she'd known less than a week.
She was going to wring Rico's neck for this.
"Can I get you something to drink?" As soon as she said the words she cringed. Now wasn't the time to play hostess.
"No." Pete took a deep breath and said more gently, "No, thank you, Anna."
"So, Officer, what brings you here tonight?"
Pete swung to face him, his leather gun belt creaking in warning. "I didn't catch your name."
Rico stiffened, but he continued to sound congenial. "The name's Gage Moran."
"Sergeant Joncaluso," Pete punctuated with a nod. "Someone called anonymously and reported a prowler."
"A prowler?" she asked quickly, looking at Rico then back to Pete.
"I didn't see anyone," Pete assured her. "But that doesn't mean someone hasn't been here."
"I'm sure it's a mistake," Rico said with a shrug. "You can always ask the neighbors. One of them had to be your caller."
"I already planned on it. So, tell me, Mr. Moran, what do you do?"
"I'm a computer security analyst."
"Where're you from?"
"Originally or since college?"
"Either."
"Born in New Hampshire, raised in Maryland, college in New York," he replied sardonically.
"Planning on adding Idaho?"
"Maybe."
"Ever been arrested?"
"That's it. You two want to continue getting to know each other, fine, but I'm going to talk to my neighbors." She untangled herself from Rico, gave him a shove and marched to the front door.
* * *
"You going to let her leave?" Joncaluso asked him.
"I'm not going to let her do anything. Anna's her own woman." Rico kept his expression even as the cop gave him another once-over, although he wanted to grab Anna and keep her from going outside. He'd give her ten seconds out there before he followed, but the uneasy feeling at the back of his neck told him he needed to be careful with this guy. There was more to him than met the eye.
And it had nothing to do with the fact that Joncaluso wanted Anna.
"Wait a minute," Joncaluso called as Anna stepped out the door. "Someone needs to stay here with the kids."
"Lina's here. Besides, you two aren't done grilling each other yet."
Joncaluso actually looked sheepish for a second, cementing Rico's theory about the cop's more than civil feelings.
"I'm done. For now," he added, sending Rico another of his icy stares.
If there wasn't so much at stake, he'd be concerned about being on Joncaluso's bad side. He looked as if he could bend steel.
With his teeth.
"Fine. I'll stay here." Anna gave in but pointed a finger at Joncaluso. "You let me know if you find out anything more."
"I will." He hesitated out on the porch.
Rico decided the looks he was getting meant the cop wanted to talk to Anna privately.
He leaned more comfortably against the wall.
"Anna, you need me, don't hesitate to call the station. If I'm off duty, you have my home number. I don't care what time it is."
"Thank you, Pete. But I'm fine, really. If someone is prowling around, Gage can take care of us."
Joncaluso pinned him with another look. "I don't advise you to play Rambo. You see someone, call the station."
"Sure, Officer," he said w
ith a smile as he moved back into the foyer and put his arms around Anna's waist.
The cop read Rico's silent message and walked to the patrol car. Had he been warning him as a citizen or as one of the men behind the kidnapping and hacking? Was he the "prowler" the agents had beeped him about? The shadow outside the window? The timing of his beeps made it possible. He needed to get in touch with his men.
As soon as the door shut, Anna twisted out of his embrace. "How dare you!" she said, seething. She planted her hands against his chest and shoved him hard, then swept past him into the kitchen. "That man is my friend! If he'd wanted to hurt me or the kids, he would have a long time ago!"
Rico leaned against the stair railing, struggling to control the pain circling up from his ribs and hip. Telling himself he was unprepared for the shove did nothing for his ego.
"You don't get it, do you?" she said with her back still turned. "When you leave again, I'll still be here. I don't want these people to think the worst of me."
"Who said," he began, his hands on his knees, "I'm leaving?"
"You always do."
She scored a direct hit. He straightened up, but a slashing pain went across his ribs, taking his breath away again. Reaching out, he grabbed the railing post to keep from falling on his face just as she pivoted to face him.
"Oh, my goodness," Anna mumbled, rushing to him and putting her shoulder under his arm.
"Kitchen."
"Okay, slowly. Slowly, I said! If you fall, I can't pick you up. Oh, I shouldn't have pushed you. I wasn't thinking about your injuries."
He settled in a chair, grateful the pain was receding. He must have an old fracture that hadn't been ready for the pressure. He stuck a hand under his shirt, feeling around. Whatever it was, the damage didn't feel permanent.
"I'm okay. I don't need your pity," he said in a painful growl.
"You are an impossible man! I hit you and you can't even accept my apology…" Her words trailed off and he glanced up to find her staring horrified at the skin his had inadvertently exposed.
He dropped the shirt, but she was already on her knees by the chair. She reached out to lift his shirt, and he grabbed her wrist.
"Let me see," she said softly.
"No."
"Yes."
"I don't want or need your pity."
"Good, because I'm not offering any."
Taking in the stubborn tilt of her chin, he let go and looked in the other direction. He focused on the newest drawing hanging on the refrigerator. She lifted his shirt up, then stopped as she made a distressed sound. He knew what she was seeing. Thick scars, uneven flesh tone, dents where skin hadn't anything smooth to heal over, smaller bumps from the metal they used to put him back together. For a man who'd been so body conscious, it wasn't easy to accept he would never look better than this. Nor was it easy to let her see him.
He'd seen Anna's embarrassment and regret over their mind-numbing intimacy on the kitchen floor. He hadn't helped by letting it provoke him into insulting her.
Finally he gave in and turned back to her. What he saw took his breath faster than her hard shove. Devastating sadness knit her brows and rounded her eyes.
He experienced a swift déjà vu. Her sadness reminded him of a woman ecologist he'd met in South America. She'd stood surveying the latest destruction of the rainforest she'd fought so hard to save. He remembered feeling uncomfortable and helpless and giving her meaningless platitudes. She'd shaken her head and smiled sadly at him. "Your words can't help," she'd said. "This is too deep for words."
In Anna's eyes he saw the same pain.
"I'm so sorry." She let his shirt drop, gently smoothing it over his ribs and stomach.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," he lied.
"What kind of monsters could do this to a human being?" He could hear her tears as she gestured with both hands.
"It wasn't a picnic."
"Don't be flip about this!"
"How do you want me to be?"
"I don't know. Upset. Depressed. Angry." She stood and walked to the blinds, sealing them shut even tighter.
"I've been all of those things. Still am to some extent. They told me I'd have to let go of it to fully recover. I found that I'm still left with some."
"Who told you?"
He mentally kicked himself. "The psychiatrists."
"You went into therapy?" she asked incredulously as she turned around.
"No, I was dragged into therapy." The sadness was easing from her features, replaced by curiosity.
It's better to answer her questions than see her pain.
"I kept having nightmares and couldn't relax. I couldn't handle being alone for the few first weeks, after they reduced the meds and I was more coherent." He flexed his fingers, almost feeling the restrictive bandages he'd been mummified in for months. "They call it post-traumatic stress disorder."
"How are you now?"
"Better every day."
She stared at him the same way she had when she'd accepted his real identity. "Will you tell me about it?"
"I don't know." He continued when her gaze dropped to the floor. "Maybe. Yes. Someday."
She took a deep breath and nodded. "Well, now that we've settled a few things, we need to talk about the prowler and where you're putting that gun before the kids come down for dinner," she said briskly, bustling around and getting out plates and glasses.
"What things?"
She arched him a look. Probably for his annoyed tone.
"One, you won't hang on me and embarrass me like that again in front of my friends. Two, you aren't going to shield me anymore as if I'm a fragile child and three, you're going to tell me what happened to you."
"Oh." Great, he thought wryly. I'm glad we settled so much. You'll just have to understand that I'll do anything to keep you and the family safe. Even if that means discouraging your potential boyfriends.
He smiled at that thought, turning it into a cough when she gave him a dubious look.
"This one I keep on me," he said, shifting to pull the 9mm Beretta out of his waistband. He secured it in the holster that attached to his jeans on the inside of his right hip, but kept the holster hidden. Anna watched as he pulled out his loose shirt so that it hid the telltale bulge.
Putting their drinks on the table, she propped both fists on her hips. "I don't like it."
"You don't have to."
"Don't let them see it. I mean it! I can't talk about how bad guns are if their hero is wearing one."
She whirled away and went into the pantry, marching right back out with a loaf of bread.
"And get that stupid grin off your face. You know they adore you!"
"Actually, I didn't."
They took the wind out of her sails. "Oh. Well. They do. So don't do anything to make me knock you off your pedestal."
He chuckled, then sobered. "About that prowler. It must have been a crank call. I'll know more when I get the relay from Mike, but I'm assuming their alert was for Joncaluso."
She frowned into the pantry, her hand deep in a box of animal cookies. Pulling a handful out, she faced him.
"But if it was Pete, why didn't he just knock on the kitchen door instead of going around? And don't you think he would have mentioned seeing you push me onto the floor?"
He hoped his amazement didn't show. He hadn't thought of the cop knocking on the back door. "Whoever was outside the window wouldn't have seen us hit the floor. I saw a shadow, not a body."
"The door?" she reminded.
"I don't know."
* * *
This was not going as planned. They should have grabbed the kids long ago and not trusted that informant. Rico Carella was dead and would unfortunately not suffer the loss of his children.
Now two agents kept the house under watch at all times, which could be due to the background computer checks. Worse, Anna's lover was more than a roll in the hay. That much had been evident when he'd thrown her to the floor and pulled out a gun.
It was time for the backup plan.
* * *
"Dim a light in every room, but turn it off when you go in. I don't want anyone throwing shadows against the windows."
Lina went to take care of that order.
"I need you to get out a couple of candles for the den, in case the television doesn't give off enough light."
Anna nodded, flipped on the TV and headed for the kitchen where the twins sat creating their collages. They looked so sweet and innocent, freshly bathed and in their summer pajamas.
She couldn't lose them.
Backing off from that thought, she grabbed several thick vanilla candles from above the stove and placed them around the den. Rico set up his laptop computer on a mahogany end table and unplugged the phone, plugging in a line from his computer.
"What's this?" In his hand he held up one of the plastic edge protectors left over from the twins' toddling days.
"It covers the sharp corner of the table in case one of the kids bump into it. Even though they're past the toddler stage, they still have their accidents. Rafe cut the side of his head on that one not long ago."
"It takes a lot to protect children, doesn't it?" he mused, staring at the cream-colored plastic he turned over in his large hand.
He was talking about more than the plastic.
"Yes, it does."
He bent and fitted it back on as Lina herded the children into the room. She beamed at her son, making Anna smile in response to the pure happiness on the woman's face. She had a pretty good idea how Lina felt.
Rafe and Rebecca settled on an old plastic tablecloth Lina put down in the middle of the floor, and Anna gathered the bags of already torn-up mail and glue. Within minutes the twins were engrossed in their joint project.
Lina sat in her corner rocking chair and worked on her latest needlepoint. Rico's computer hummed to life, and he was soon typing furiously.
Anna sat on the couch with a pad of paper for idea sketches and watched the cozy family scene. It looked so right and so strange at the same time. An entertainment show brought the sounds of the latest movie into the room, Rafe and Rebecca talked in fragmented sentences. Rico, whose scarred torso was imprinted on her mind, had obviously picked up typing and computer skills along with his deadly combat skills. Yet he fit so naturally into the picture with his mother and children.
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