by Zoe Chant
Tirzah swallowed. She hadn’t meant anything by the gesture—well, okay, if she was being honest with herself, she supposed she’d jumped at the opportunity to touch him, even for a brief instant. But she’d meant to keep it light, then let him go. Now he was hanging on to her hand like he was drowning and she’d reached out from a lifeboat.
The air in her apartment felt hot and thick, like the world had skipped from late autumn to the height of summer. She was suddenly very conscious of the heat of his own body, and of his clean masculine scent. He was running his thumb over the back of her hand, a tiny movement but one which focused all her attention on that half-inch of her skin. It sent tingling electricity straight down to her core. She shifted in her chair, squeezing her thighs together.
Pete abruptly released her hand, looking stunned. His voice was husky as he said, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You do that.”
For a moment she had no idea what he was talking about. Do what? Then she remembered her offer of hydrogen peroxide. “Right. Um, this way.”
She spun her chair around and headed for the bathroom, leaving him to follow. The slight breeze created by her movement cleared her head. By the time she got to the bathroom, she was able to wave Pete inside and speak in a businesslike tone. “Sit down there.”
She indicated the plastic stool she sat on to take a shower. He sat, a bit gingerly as if he was afraid it would collapse beneath his weight. Batcat woke up, stretched, fell off Pete’s hand with a startled meow, snapped out her wings, and arrested her fall at the last moment, skimming so low over the floor that her tail brushed it. Tirzah and Pete watched her go until she turned the corner and vanished from their view.
“That is some cat,” Pete remarked. “My—One of my co-workers would love it.” Tirzah could have sworn he’d started to refer to someone else. But before she could inquire, he went on, “Does it have a name?”
“She. It’s Batcat.”
Pete chuckled. “Good name. Yeah.” Another fractional pause. “Merlin would love her.”
“Your co-worker?” Tirzah just barely stopped herself from saying, “The one who turns into a raptor and claims to have been a rodeo clown?” “Uh, another bodyguard?”
“Yeah.”
Tirzah leaned on the sink as she stood up to collect her supplies from the cabinet over the sink. She hadn’t used hydrogen peroxide since her accident, apparently, as it was way on the top shelf gathering dust. The doctors had given her prescription stuff to use on her own injuries. Her fingers brushed against it, but she couldn’t grab it.
“Want me to get that for you?” Pete’s deep voice filled the small room.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He didn’t even have to stand to reach it down for her, and a bag of cotton balls as well. Noticing her staring, he remarked, “Monkey arms.”
That wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking, but she could hardly say, “No, actually I was thirsting for your sexy biceps.”
Hoping she wasn’t blushing, she poured some peroxide on to a cotton ball. “Shut your eyes. The peroxide will sting if it gets in them.”
He tensed, just slightly but she noticed it. They were so close that she could feel the heat of his body. He seemed too big for the room, like it had become one of her own dollhouses and he was the real person reaching inside. And yet, as she watched him watching her, she could have sworn that he was afraid. He was actually trembling.
PTSD, maybe? He’d been in combat. Maybe he’d been ambushed on a dark night, or taken hostage and blindfolded. Whatever it was, she guessed he didn’t like being touched when he couldn’t see who was touching him. And of course he was such a man’s man, he’d never admit it.
It wasn’t like Tirzah didn’t understand trauma-related phobias, or being too embarrassed to admit to them. A warm rush of sympathy filled her. But she knew how she could make it easier for him.
“Actually, keep your eyes open,” she said. “I’ll shield them for you. Here.”
Tirzah laid her hand on his forehead.
CHAPTER 4
P ete was glad he was sitting down when Tirzah laid her hand on his forehead. If he hadn’t been, his legs might have gone out from under him.
That first time she’d touched him, it had nearly knocked him off his feet. Her hand had been warm against his, her palm velvet-soft with a few thickened areas, probably from propelling her wheelchair.
And it hadn’t hurt.
He drew in a shaky breath, marveling again at the joyous shock of that moment.
It hadn’t hurt.
Ever since he’d been kidnapped and experimented on, any human touch had been agonizing. But when Tirzah had touched him, taking his bare hand in hers, it had felt… good.
Pete had almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy the touch of skin to skin. It was like a jailhouse door opening, letting in a flood of sunshine and fresh spring air. Like when you’re so exhausted that you can’t even raise your arms, and your buddy lifts the eighty pound rucksack off your back.
Tirzah’s touch was like life itself.
And now she had her hand on his forehead, protecting his eyes as she dabbed at some tiny scratches that in no way needed any medical attention, but he sure wasn’t going to complain.
That feels good.
Pete repressed a start. It was the voice of his cave bear. He still wasn’t used to it. The bear rarely spoke, making it startling every time. Usually it was a silent, brooding presence within Pete’s mind, vast and primal and filled with rage. But the bear wasn’t angry now.
I like her. His cave bear spoke in a rumble that suspiciously resembled a vastly deeper version of Batcat’s purr.
I like her too, Pete admitted.
A part of him didn’t want to. Tirzah had no right to spy on him, though he was getting the idea that she’d had some fairly good reasons for doing so. But he’d been expecting some sinister criminal, not a pretty, independent, whip-smart, kind-hearted woman with beautiful brown eyes, hair he wanted to run his fingers through, and hands he wanted to hold forever. Her skin, my God, the touch of her soft, smooth, warm, living skin…
I shouldn’t be thinking like this, Pete thought. I can’t. She wants a bodyguard, not a boyfriend. And even if she did, I’m not boyfriend material. Not anymore.
But that thought did nothing to stop his hypersensitivity to her touch. Tirzah dabbed his forehead dry, then cupped his cheek with one hand, holding his face still while she doctored whatever microscopic scratches he had on his other cheek. Pete sent silent thanks to Batcat for the blood she’d drawn, and an invitation to scratch him up some more, any time.
Why can she touch me? Pete asked his cave bear. What does it mean?
His cave bear sent him the image of a shrug of his massive shaggy shoulders, followed by the sensation of blissfully dozing in warm sunlight.
Pete couldn’t look Tirzah in the eyes, because what he wanted to do right now was a lot more down-and-dirty than sunlit snoozing. Especially the way she was leaning over him with her breasts nearly touching him. He tried hard not to look down her cleavage, and almost succeeded.
She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her body and breathe in her distinctive scent. His senses had gotten sharper since his change, and he could identify the floral scent of her soap and shampoo, a sweet cozy smell of fresh-baked cookies, a sharper undertone of metal and chemicals on her fingers, and over it all, a spicy scent, like nutmeg but warm and human, that he knew was Tirzah herself.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to regain control of himself. So the hacker was a likable, pretty woman whom he could touch without pain. Of course he was attracted to her. But that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. Pete had his hands full trying to make a good life for his family. He had nothing to spare for himself, let alone for a relationship.
She released his face and picked up his hand, carefully dabbing each scratch with peroxide. Then his other hand. For all that he knew he could never have more than this, he couldn’t help reveling in
her touch. It was all he could do to not toss aside the cotton ball and close his hands over hers. And then…
“Done!” Tirzah released his hands.
A sense of loss hit him like a punch to the gut. What if that moment had been a fluke? What if he’d never enjoy the touch of skin to skin again? Maybe he should lean in, right now, and find out…
Yes, rumbled his cave bear.
No, Pete replied firmly. His mother had always said, “Never date a woman with more problems than you have.” Now Pete was the man with more problems, and he had no intention of inflicting them on a sweet, if not totally law-abiding, woman like Tirzah.
He stood up, ducking to avoid banging his head on the showerhead. “Whoa. Nearly gave you another cut to put peroxide on.”
Wish I had, he thought.
“Next time you get banged up, come on by. Or, actually, maybe you’ll be here already.” A flush of pink spread across her cheeks. A bit flustered, she added, “I mean, if you take that bodyguarding job I wanted to hire you for. Which I still do. Especially since you already know about Batcat and haven’t called… whoever you call to report a flying kitten.”
Pete couldn’t resist. In his best Ghostbusters voice, he said, “Who you gonna call?”
“Catbusters!” Tirzah replied.
They both laughed. He wasn’t sure exactly how or when it had happened, but they’d somehow gone from being suspicious to awkward to comfortable with each other. There was just something about her that made him feel at ease.
“I’m not gonna call,” Pete said. “And it sounds like you have an idea why not. Tell you what. You tell me your story, then I’ll tell you mine.”
“What, so you can know what to leave out based on what I already know?” Tirzah didn’t sound angry, just frank.
“You don’t miss a trick. Look, it’s nothing personal. Some stuff involves other people, and some is secret—official, US military top secret—and some…” Pete trailed off. Then, looking into Tirzah’s sharp brown eyes, he said quietly, “Some I just don’t talk about. That’s all.”
To his immense relief, she didn’t pursue it. “Fair enough. So, about that bodyguarding thing—and all the other things… Would you like some coffee while I explain? I just made a pot. Cookies? I have homemade lavender shortbread, homemade pecan bars, Circus Animals—”
“I’m not much for cookies.”
“A bagel with lox? No, wait, the lox all got eaten or stepped on. I might have some of Jim’s Irish soda bread...”
Pete realized he wasn’t going to get a thing out of her until she fed him. “Okay.”
“Okay coffee? Okay bagel?”
“Okay coffee and soda bread, if there’s any left. I never even heard of it and I’m curious what it is. Is it like 7-up cake?”
“No, that’s soda as in baking soda. It’s sort of like a scone, but not sweet. Still want it?”
“Sure. I’ll give it a try.”
They headed out into the living room. Batcat ran alongside Tirzah’s wheelchair, squeaking indignantly, until Tirzah reached down with one hand, scooped her up, and settled the kitten on to her shoulder.
“Can’t she take off from the floor?” Pete asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out. Might just be harder for her.”
“Or maybe she likes being picked up,” Pete suggested.
“Oh, she definitely likes that.”
Pete followed Tirzah into the kitchen. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Hmm.” She gave him a speculative glance before she apparently decided he could be trusted with her dishes. “Yeah, sure. Saucers are there, mugs are there.”
Pete took out the dishes, realizing as he did that Tirzah would not only have to stand to get them, but would probably have to reach so high that she’d have to feel around for them. He wondered if her disability was recent and she hadn’t had time to renovate yet, or if she couldn’t afford to. Then, remembering the multiple shiny new laptops in the living room, he decided that she had to be able to afford it. And not enough time didn’t make sense either, because she clearly knew her way around the wheelchair and he could build her a basic wheelchair-level cabinet in a day. A week, if he made it fancy.
As he watched her pick up the coffee maker from the counter and pour out the coffee, he was torn between wanting to offer to build her that cabinet, and the knowledge that if she didn’t have it already, there was probably a reason why. And she could manage on her own, that was obvious. He just found himself wanting to smooth her path a bit.
“Milk? Sugar?” Tirzah asked.
“Both, thanks.”
“Say when.”
She slowly poured milk and sugar into his coffee mug until he said when, then gave hers a careless splash of each. Tirzah helped herself to one each of four different types of cookies, then warmed an English muffin-like thing—that had to be the Irish soda bread—in a microwave.
Pete tried not to openly stare at her, but he was fascinated. For all that she’d spied on him and didn’t seem at all remorseful about it, there was so much sweet thoughtfulness in her nature, too. He’d barged into her apartment, and her response was to pry her kitten off his face, treat his scratches, refuse to get down to business until he had coffee and food, and make sure the coffee was exactly how he liked it and the food was hot.
As she turned to go into the living room, pulling the wheeled table with her, her curls fell aside and he saw that her shoulders were marked with the pink scratches of Batcat’s claws. Pete looked closer, and saw the kitten digging in her claws for balance as Tirzah moved.
Like me with Caro, Pete thought. She’d rather let herself get hurt than push away someone she loves.
Tirzah gestured to Pete to take the armchair, and stepped from her chair to the sofa. She sank into the cushions, stretching out her body and rotating her shoulders. Pete could hear the soft pop of her joints.
“Long day waiting for me to open my laptop?” he asked.
“Yep. You ever use that thing?”
“Not if I can help it. I like to work with my hands.”
“Me too.” Tirzah tapped on the rolling table between them as if she was typing on a keyboard.
Pete scoffed. “Not like that.”
“I figured,” she replied, smiling. “So, how’d you find me, then? How’d you track me?”
“Oh, there’s this guy who helps us out with computer stuff. He opened up my laptop and…” Pete imitated her tapping motion.
“Huh. He must be good. Because, not to brag, but I’m good.”
“Yeah, I guess he is.” Pete hadn’t thought much about it before, but he supposed Carter had done something to earn his millions or billions or however much it took to have your very own private jet. But Carter wasn’t the person on his mind.
Remembering his bodyguard training from Roland, Pete said, “Okay, I want to hear your story. Start at whatever you think is the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details because you think they’re not important. Let me decide that, okay?”
“Okay.” But she obviously wasn’t okay with telling him something, because instead of doing so, she fidgeted, cleared her throat, and petted Batcat. To put her at ease, Pete didn’t stare at her, but picked up his coffee mug and took a sip.
“No no no, don’t drink any coffee!”
Pete put it down, startled. “Why? Did you slip in a sleeping pill?”
“No!” Tirzah rubbed her head. “I’m just about to tell you something really shocking, or at least really surprising, and I didn’t want you to spit it out.”
Pete couldn’t help laughing. “You were trying to rescue me from doing a spit-take?”
With immense dignity, Tirzah said, “Yes.” Then, dramatically, she said, “You see… I’m Override.”
A silence fell in which she obviously expected him to react. When he didn’t, she said, “Override, the hacker!”
“Uh… That’s your… hacker name? Like a pilot’s call sign?”
Tirzah gav
e a long-suffering sigh. “Well, that was anti-climactic. Yeah, Pete, it’s my hacker name. You’re not going to arrest me if I confess to some crimes—some extremely justified crimes! Right?”
“I’m not a cop.” Even all these years later, that sentence was bitter in his mouth. But he forged on. “Stop worrying that I’m going to turn you in for something. I’m not. Not for spying on me, not for Batcat, not for whatever hacking stuff you do. It’s not my job.” He stopped himself from saying “anymore.”
“Good. Now eat your soda bread.”
“Is it safe for me to wash it down with coffee?” Pete teased.
“Yeah. Apparently being America’s most famous non-evil hacker isn’t spit take-worthy.”
“You’re famous?”
Wryly, she replied, “I guess I’m not that famous.”
“Up until recently, I was a Recon Marine,” he pointed out. “I spent a lot of time in places that didn’t have newspapers or TV, let alone the internet.”
“Oh, right. Hmm. Okay, this one you might’ve heard of, even if you didn’t know a hacker was involved. It was pretty recent, and I imagine it got talked about a lot in the military. There was a big scandal at the VA, when it came out that some of the administrators were lining their own pockets with money that was supposed to pay for veterans’ healthcare…”
Pete had heard about that one, all right. His cave bear snarled, echoing his own anger. “I heard. A vet died waiting for an operation that she should’ve gotten right away, and the people who’d been stealing money actually got charged with homicide… Wait. You were the one who blew the whistle on them?”
She nodded. “I hacked into the VA computer system and then their own personal computers, collected the evidence, and sent it to the FBI and a bunch of journalists. And that’s what Override does. It’s illegal, but it’s to stop people who are doing much worse things than a little spying on the bad guys.”
Now that Pete had gotten to know her a bit, her confession didn’t quite surprise him. Of course she’d take it upon herself to risk jail time to help strangers, solely because she saw it as the right thing to do.