In Her Sights (Away From Keyboard Book 2)

by Patricia D. Eddy

  If only I could take my own advice.

  13

  Inara

  Three days later, once Sonia and her mother—along with a private nurse—have both been discharged, I can breathe a little easier. No more hospital visits.

  Royce—true to his word—was by my side every time I had to walk through those automatic doors. For someone who spent five years on some of the deadliest combat missions in Afghanistan, you’d think I could handle seeing a friend on the road to recovery, but every day I left with tears in my eyes.

  And every time, he held me. Brought me back to his place, cooked me dinner, wrapped me in a blanket on his couch where we watched movies, talked about the little things—music, books, food, and indulged in slow, tender lovemaking that left me soothed, but still needy.

  Today, he’s tired, though. I can see it in his eyes, the set of his shoulders, the way his left leg drags a little more than usual. I come up behind him in his tiny kitchen and slide my hands over his shoulders. “Sit down. I’ll do the dishes later.”

  With a deep breath, he relaxes against the counter. “Yeah. P-probably a good idea.” Dipping his hand into his pocket, he comes away with his pill case, and my heart constricts as he grabs another one of his anti-seizure pills. That’s three I’ve counted today, and I’ve only spent four hours with him.

  The sight of my supportive, confident man popping those pills like candy shakes me out of the fog I’ve been living in for the past few days.

  I urge him into the living room and down onto the couch, where I start kneading those rock-hard shoulders as he groans and stretches his neck until it cracks. “You’ve been…holding out on me.”

  “I don’t pull out the magic fingers for just anyone.” With a laugh—I think my first since I found out about the accident—I bend so I can kiss the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Once I’m done, I’m going home, soldier.” He tips his head back as I continue my ministrations, confusion furrowing his brow. “You’re exhausted. Rest up, and tomorrow, the real Inara will come out to play.”

  “Are you sure?” Royce reaches up to cup my cheek.

  “Yes. What you’ve given me these past few days…I can’t tell you how much I needed someone in my corner. But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. Working all day, coming to the hospital with me every night, dinners, breakfasts…”

  “Everyone needs help sometimes,” he says as he tugs my arm so I skirt the couch and drop down next to him. “And you’re right. I’m beat. But there’s something I need to do before you go.”

  I lean in, expecting a kiss, but instead, he holds up a small velvet pouch. “Royce?”

  “Open it.” His voice takes on a rough tone, and words tumble out awkwardly. “I saw this at a booth at Pike Place Market, and when I picked it up, I thought of you. I don’t know why—”

  “Ohhh.” As I angle the bag, a pale pink stone drops into my hand, attached to a delicate silver chain. “It’s beautiful.” I hand it to him and turn so he can secure the clasp. When the stone touches my chest, it warms almost immediately, and I draw my fingers over the pendant as I face him.

  “It’s not too soon, is it?” He cups the back of my neck as he brushes a gentle kiss to my lips.

  “No. It’s not.” I straddle him, sinking my hands into his hair as I claim his mouth with a vigor I haven’t felt in days. I’ve never been one for gifts, but with Royce…everything’s different.

  I have his shirt half off when he suddenly stiffens, and a strangled, pained sound rumbles in his throat.

  “Royce?” I pull away, my voice too high, my heart thudding against my chest. He shuts his eyes, fumbling for my hand and squeezing my fingers. The muscles of his neck cord and strain, and tiny lines deepen around his lips.

  Oh fuck. I won’t panic. I can’t. Training takes over. Assess the situation. “How bad? Squeeze once for normal, twice for…call an ambulance.”

  He answers with a single pulse of his fingers, then pulls me closer. I wrap my arms around him, letting him rest his cheek against the top of my head. I can feel his jaw try to work, the muscles flexing, seizing, and flexing again.

  “I don’t know what to do for you, baby.” The term of endearment slips out in a raw moment of terror when he squeezes my fingers again. Pulling back so I can see his face, I hate the look of sorrow in his eyes. “You’re still okay?”

  He nods, his lips parting slightly, but only a soft “ahh” escapes. Stroking the spasming muscles along his cheek, I hold his gaze.

  “Your eyes get these gray streaks in them when you concentrate.” I’m rambling, but I love his eyes. I still have the napkin I used to sketch them weeks ago. “When you’re about to come, they’re almost silver.”

  His chest stutters with what might be a laugh, and the streaks intensify. Not quite at climax level, but the stress lines around his eyes ease.

  “Sssorry,” he says, the single word drawn out and thick. “Nnnooo…warning.” Sinking back into the cushions, he heaves out a breath. “Over now.”

  “You’re okay?” I’ve never seen Royce look so…defeated.

  With a nod, he closes his eyes for so long, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I rub his thigh, snuggling closer. I’ll sit here with him all night if I have to.

  Finally, he shifts and links our fingers. “Cam and I had a system when she t-took care of me after my surgery. One through four. One means I can probably manage a word here and there. This was a two. Three means I need to lie down or I might pass out. If I hold up four fingers, call 911.”

  “Got it.” Still feeling helpless, I rest my head on his shoulder. I need him to know my feelings haven’t changed, but that would require me to explain what my feelings are, and even I don’t have the words for them right now.

  “You did exactly the right thing,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

  I run my fingers over the pendant, the smooth stone a warm and solid weight anchoring me. “I’m not running, Royce. I love what we’ve started, and I’m not going to let anything screw it up.”

  I pull a fresh canvas from the pile and set up next to the window. I didn’t want to leave Royce last night, but he insisted he’d be fine. So I crawled into my bed alone with a cup of chai and a chocolate bar, then stared at the ceiling for half of the night. Despite how well Royce said I’d handled his seizure, I’m not sure I’ll feel steady until I see him again. If only I didn’t have to wait until tomorrow. But he needs rest, and I need to catch up on work.

  I should be neck deep in translations but I’m too scattered, too out of control, and since mind-blowing sex is out of the question, painting will have to do.

  The rising sun floods the sky a deep azure the color of Royce’s eyes, and I wish I could paint what I see, wish the hope that dawns with the new day could fix this out-of-sorts feeling. Instead, I mix up a dark gray for troubled skies and call upon the storm inside me as my guide.

  Next, a muddy brown lays the foundation for a desolate mountain landscape. The rocks emerge, sharp and unyielding, rising starkly against the squall. A solitary tree takes shape, bent in the wind until it’s almost folded in two, and before long, I have to be careful where I hold my palette. Tears aren’t the best thinner for oil paint.

  Yet…despite the pain pressing down on my soul, I’m not alone, and as a single tear drips off my chin and lands on the small, pinkish stone resting below the hollow of my throat, I’m reminded just how lucky I am.

  The second I ran my fingers over the pendant last night, I realized I was no longer falling in love. I’ve fallen. Completely.

  Returning to the canvas, I try to outline a leaf blowing away in the wind, but at the end of my brush, another tree emerges. Strong branches reach for the tiny, battle-worn sapling, wrapping it—me—in a warm embrace.

  An hour passes. My shoulders cramp, my eyes burn. But when I set down my palette, the image doesn’t look anything like what I’d envisioned.

  It’s us. Or…what I want us to be. Two trees, holding onto one another in the m
iddle of a storm.

  “I know you promised to cook me dinner,” Royce says when I crawl into bed and call him late that night. “I heard from Cam about an hour ago. She and West invited us over tomorrow. Along with a couple of folks from Emerald City, one of West’s instructors from the dojo, and Ryker. She wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. If you want to stay in—”

  “Oh my God.” I clap my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. West didn’t expressly forbid me from telling Royce, but if Cam didn’t share…

  “Inara?”

  “We should go. You’re going to want to go.” A laugh bubbles up, the stress of the past few days along with my shock getting the better of me. “Don’t make me tell you what the party’s for. Just…think, soldier.”

  “No.” The disbelief in his tone stretches the word, and I sink back against the pillows as he huffs. “She used to talk about getting married like it was the scariest idea on the planet. But finding West…best damn thing for her. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. West showed me the ring the other day. He was so nervous she’d panic or flat out say no.”

  Royce chuckles. “She probably still panicked a little.”

  “I’m surprised he invited Ryker. The man doesn’t believe in love. When I told him I couldn’t come in for a training op because of our first date, he gave me the whole ‘love makes you weak and one day we might not come home’ speech.”

  And now comes the awkward silence. I can see myself with Royce. Long-term. Loving him. Being loved by him. But…something’s stopping me from saying the words.

  “Inara? Turn on video. I need to see you.” Royce’s words draw me out of my fog.

  Shit. Schooling my features and hoping he doesn’t see the self-doubt I can’t seem to shake, I hit the FaceTime button. He’s shirtless, and the sight of his lean chest and the top of his six-pack drive my fears down deep where I hope they’ll stay.

  “I could look at you all night,” I say with a wistful note to my tone. “You’re feeling okay?”

  “I just needed rest. What happened yesterday…that’s my normal. You can’t worry every time I have a seizure or need an early night.”

  Even over the slightly grainy video stream, I can see the irritation on Royce’s chiseled features. “I’m not…” Except, I was worried. I’ve been worried all day. “Caring for someone…as much as I care for you… It wasn’t the seizure. Not exactly. Dammit. I’m not good at this shit.” Sliding down under the covers, I balance the phone against my nightstand as I rest my head on my arm. “I should get some sleep. I was up before sunrise.”

  Sheets rustle as he brings his phone a little closer. His dark brows draw together over those bright blue eyes. “Talk to me, baby. You sound…sad.”

  “Just dealing with some old demons. I’ll be fine in the morning. Rest up, soldier. After the party tomorrow, you’re coming back here where I get to have my way with you.”

  I kiss two fingers and press them against the screen. Royce frowns, but still follows suit with his own goodnight kiss, and as I plug in my phone and turn out the light, I let out a frustrated groan. Intimacy has never been my strong suit, and the question I ask myself ten times a day echoes in my mind.

  Why haven’t I told him what happened in Colombia?

  Tonight, I finally have an answer.

  Because I’m scared of losing him. Except…I’m not just scared.

  I’m terrified.

  14

  Royce

  Ten transmitters line up in a row on my workbench. Every one of them perfect. I spent four hours riding the city buses this morning, and each transmitter recorded the exact same data. Well, within a few inches. Civilian GPS data isn’t exact.

  I tuck one of the transmitters into the back pocket of my jeans. Might as well stress-test the thing. Until I decide how I want to package them—necklaces, bracelets, clip-ons—I figure I should see if they hold up to being thrown in a pocket and sat on for a few hours.

  Inara should be here soon, and I toss my laptop and toothbrush in my briefcase. I’m so close to perfecting the software, I don’t go anywhere without the source code. Paranoid? Yes. Despite half a dozen backup copies stored in the cloud, until I submit to the various mobile app stores, Loc8tion’s all mine, and I’m not risking her.

  This party should be a welcome respite from work, but with how Inara and I left things last night on the phone, I’m worried. One day soon, she’s going to have to tell me about those demons. You don’t keep shit like that from someone you…love.

  Yeah, I said it. To myself at least. I love her. If I were a betting man, I’d say she feels the same way, but getting her to admit it…I’d have an easier time picking up grains of sand with chopsticks.

  She knocks, and when I open the door, I forget to breathe. A shimmering black dress dips low enough to expose the swell of her breasts and the pendant I gave her almost glows against her skin. Slits in the sleeves expose her strong shoulders, and the material clings to every curve, ending above her knees, where black stockings disappear into black, high-heeled boots.

  Her lips shine with a deep red gloss and her eyes…my God. The strong, smoky eyeliner turns her gray orbs a bright silver.

  “Earth to Royce,” Inara says with a small smile. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Cam and West won’t mind if we’re late.” I draw her against me, drinking in her scent, but she dangles a set of keys in my periphery.

  “Come on. I just picked her up. Want to zip down to the big wine store in SoDo rather than hitting up the neighborhood market?” Her eyes sparkle as she waves her hand towards the curb.

  The silver coupe is a few years newer than her previous car, with a black convertible top. “The sales guy was ex-army. I served with his cousin. He gave me a great deal.”

  I wish I could tell her to slow down. To stop and let me hold her. Under all of the excitement, the makeup, the dress, I see the shadows that shut her down last night lingering. But her smile wins me over, and I sling my bag over my shoulder, lock the door behind me, and follow the woman I’ve fallen for.

  As she parks in front of Cam and West’s house, I lean over and brush my lips against her neck. “You’ve got a little something,” I say. “Right here. Is that…paint?”

  She angles the rearview mirror and cranes her head. “Oh, shit.” Scrubbing the blue smudge with her thumb, she manages to clear most of it.

  “Home improvement project?” I capture her hand for one long moment, relishing the warmth of her skin.

  With a nervous chuckle, she shakes her head. “Um, after the party, I’ll show you. I…um, I paint to relax sometimes.”

  She doesn’t elaborate as she gets out of the car, and I wonder how we’ve grown so close, so quickly, and she’s never mentioned this side of her. But before I can find the words to ask her more, she’s ringing the doorbell.

  “Hey,” West says with a wide smile. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen the guy so happy, and the sounds of laughter follow him down the short hallway. “Come on in.”

  Orion, Lucas, and Emma from Emerald City are gathered around Cam, glasses of Champagne in their hands, and West heads to the small bar to pour two glasses for us as I say hi to my former employees. It’s only a little awkward, the pity in Emma’s voice grating along my spine as she asks me how I am. But once I introduce Inara, the focus shifts to her. Another man introduces himself as Anthony Vasquez, one of West’s instructors, and I offer him a firm handshake.

  “Ryker might not show,” West says as he presses a champagne flute into my hand, then holds his arm out to Cam. “And while most of you have probably guessed by now—”

  Cam rests her left hand over West’s heart and the light catches her ring. “Yesterday, West…uh…asked me to marry him.”

  “She said yes, by the way,” West adds as Cam’s cheeks flush and she curls her fingers over his shirt.

  Everyone cheers, and we clink glasses, the women crowding around Cam to see the ring, and Vasquez slapping West on th
e back. I offer West my hand, and when we shake, I pull him in for a quick man-hug. “You’re good for her, Sampson. Congratulations.”

  “I need a minute, in private,” he says quietly.

  “Everything okay?”

  He smiles, emotion welling in his eyes. “Yeah. Help me get the appetizers out of the fridge?” Once we’re alone in the kitchen, he shoves his hands into his pockets and cocks his head as he stares at me. “While I was gone…well, it feels like Cam exorcised some of the demons she’s been carrying around. She didn’t say much, and I won’t pry. But you two resolved some shit?”

  I fiddle with the transmitter I shoved in my pocket earlier—just to have something to do with my hands. “One of these days, if Cam’s okay with it and there’s a fair amount of alcohol involved, I’ll tell you the whole story. My part of it anyway. But yeah. I can’t say we’re back to where we were. Probably can’t ever get that sort of closeness back once you hurt someone bad enough to lose it. But I told her why I left. The real reason, not the bullshit ‘I had another commission’ story.”

  West nods. “That’d do it. Thank you. I know,” he says as he waves his hand in dismissal. “You didn’t do it for me, and she doesn’t need me fighting her battles for her. And she might have said yes anyway. Things changed for us a couple of weeks ago. After Uzbekistan. But the woman wearing that ring is…well, she’s whole. Or…at least as whole as any of us are.”

  I’m not sure I can speak over the lump in my throat. Both because I didn’t know how much Cam needed me to step up and because I see that same brokenness in Inara—and until she acknowledges it, I’m afraid she’ll always hold a piece of herself back.

  After another quick hug, West hands me a tray of fruit and cheese, and we rejoin the festivities in the living room.

  “All right. Let me see the rock,” I say as I wrap my arm around Cam’s shoulders and plant a kiss on the top of her head.