Undercover Protector

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “I didn’t—”

  “Just listen for a second.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

  “Also resentfully,” he teased.

  “You’re going to see some actual resentment if you don’t spit out whatever emotionally unfinessed thing you’re trying to say.”

  He laughed. “I’m trying to say that I like this.”

  She made a face. “You like arguing about nothing?”

  “I like the ebb and flow of conversation with you. I like that you say what’s on your mind. I like you, Nadine, and I’m not going to waste time pretending I don’t. And that’s where the want versus need comes in for me. I need to protect you because it’s my job. I want to protect you because I’m interested in you. Unprofessionally.”

  Her eyes had grown wider with each word, and when he was done talking, she swallowed. “Is that...bad?”

  “I hope to God it’s not. Unless you don’t feel the same?”

  “No. Yes, I mean. I like you, too. But is being involved unprofessionally, well...unprofessional?”

  He shrugged. “The truth is, I don’t care. Life’s too damned short to ignore feelings that are so strong after only a day. Hell, Nadine. Not knowing where you were for that little bit of time today made me crazy.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Is that ‘liking’ or ‘stalking’?” she asked, face pleasantly pink. “Because there’s a line.”

  He grinned. “It’s liking.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Stalking is an unreasonable need to know every move. My need was a very reasonable one. I was scared that you weren’t safe.”

  “And I wasn’t.”

  “Nope.”

  “I really am sorry.”

  Anderson sighed and said, “I can’t even muster up the proper amount of anger. I’m just glad you’re okay. Which is just further proof of liking you over stalking you.”

  “What about your boss? And your partners? Won’t they have something to say about you getting involved with a witness?”

  “This case is unofficially official. So I’m going to stretch that rule to cover this—you and me, that is—as well.”

  “Unprofessionally professional?”

  “Could say.” He studied her unconvinced expression. “Unless you don’t want to take the chance. Because I can’t tell if you’re trying to talk me out of liking you, or trying to convince yourself, or—”

  “Anderson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Shut up.”

  He fought a laugh—he really didn’t want to give her an excuse to back out—and closed his eyes as she tipped her face up. The first touch wasn’t more than a brush of her lips to his. Exploratory. Almost hesitant.

  He waited.

  A heartbeat later, her mouth came back. Firmer this time, but still soft. She hovered there long enough to make him ache to grab her. He told himself not to give in. To let her continue to lead. His patience paid off. On the third pass, her tongue joined her lips. It played into his mouth, warm and sweet. Her hands came up, too—one to the back of his head, the other to his thigh. Under the attention, he couldn’t stifle a low growl. In response, her hands tightened, and they stayed that way as she laid slow, purposeful claim to every bit of his mouth. When she at last finished, blood was thundering through Anderson’s veins. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. And all from a kiss.

  He opened his eyes and stared down into Nadine’s face. He could see a matching desire reflected in her gaze.

  She gave her head a little shake like she was trying to clear it and said, “That was...”

  “Worth any and all risk of workplace impropriety?” Anderson filled in.

  “Definitely.”

  “Wanna do it again?”

  She laughed—low and breathy. “Yes. But I think we should try and balance the work and fun.”

  In spite of the way he wanted to dismiss it, his cop self perked up. “Why? You got something for me other than a mind-blowing kiss?”

  “As a matter of fact...” She slid a bit farther away, stuck her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small white envelope. “Ta-da!”

  He took it from her and read the printed name aloud. “Henderson. Is that familiar to you?”

  “Yes. But I can’t place it.”

  “It’s familiar to me, too.”

  He opened the envelope and dumped a small key into his hand, the familiarity growing a little stronger. The key meant nothing to him. It was too small to belong to a door and too big to fit into a typical padlock. He frowned, unsure why just the idea of a key made him think he should know what “Henderson” meant.

  “Talk to me for a second,” he said.

  “Talk to you?”

  “Doesn’t matter what it’s about. Just a trick I used when my brain needs to work through something that’s just out of reach. Helps to have some white noise.”

  “I’m going to pretend that doesn’t feel like an insult.”

  He smiled. “I wouldn’t dare insult you.”

  She shot him a doubtful look. “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me about the key.”

  “So you can tune me out?”

  “Trust me. That’d be impossible.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her gaze was soft. “The key belongs to a jewelry box. The box was a gift from my dad. A place to keep our secrets safe, he said. I never really put anything important into it, but for some reason I woke up thinking about it today.”

  “So that’s why you pulled the little escape act this morning?”

  “It seemed important. But when I got to the house...” She swallowed, her eyes flicking out the window in the general direction of her mom’s place.

  Anderson reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be all right, honey.”

  She took a breath. “I know. And it’s just stuff. And not even stuff that I’ve looked at closely in a decade.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less important or make you feel it any less strongly.”

  “I guess not.” She sighed and brought her gaze back to his own, steady once more. “The jewelry box was already gone when I got there. And it was weird, because I don’t think it had been gone for long. It looked like nothing else had been touched since we moved, but there was a pretty conspicuous space right where I’d left just that one thing.”

  “Not a coincidence, then.”

  “No. But I don’t have any idea who took it or why.”

  “Where’d you find the key?”

  “Right outside my mom’s room.”

  “Right where you brother died,” Anderson added gently.

  She nodded once. “Yes.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance he moved the jewelry box? Put it somewhere inst—Damn.” He turned the key in the ignition. “I know where we need to go.”

  Chapter 9

  As Anderson pulled a quick U-turn, Nadine buckled up her seat belt and asked, “Are you going to fill me in?”

  “Henderson. It’s the name of a storage place in that small industrial area on the other side of town.”

  “Oh. That’s right.” She frowned. “But how do you know about it? I might never even have remembered it myself.”

  “Drove through the whole town when I first got here. I noticed the handmade sign. Had a high school teacher named Mr. Henderson, so it stuck with me. Has your family ever stored anything there?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. But there’s a lot of stuff they didn’t tell me, so that’s not saying much. Every one of them could’ve had three storage units for all I know.”

  “I’ll settle for one if it contains a jewelry box.”


  “So you think I’m right about it being significant?”

  “I think it adds up enough that it’s worth investigating.”

  She stared out the windshield for a second. “Can I ask you something personal?”

  “You can ask me anything you like,” he said.

  “Do you know your family well?”

  “You mean well enough that they wouldn’t have any secret storage rentals?” He shot her a rueful smile and shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not trying to trivialize this. I know you’re upset.”

  Nadine smiled. “Don’t worry. Sarcasm is like a second language to me. I actually feel better when you use it. Then I feel normal.”

  “Noted.” Then his voice turned serious. “To answer your question...I’d say there are plenty of things I don’t want to know about my mom and stepdad. And my sisters are younger than I am—Riley by almost eighteen years, and Elle by twenty—so there are things we don’t connect on. But overall I’d say, yeah, we have a pretty close relationship. The girls come to me for advice that I don’t want to give. Walt—my stepdad—and I have a monthly movie night, and my mom is...my mom. I guess that’s not what you wanted to hear, though?”

  “Actually, I far prefer the honesty.”

  “You can count on me for that. Always.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey...look at that.”

  “What?”

  “I think you just conceded a bit of trust.”

  “I guess I did.”

  “How does it feel?” he asked.

  “Good,” she said. “But weird.”

  “You really have a thing about normal, hmm?”

  “I keep wondering if I know what it is. I thought I did when I was a kid. Then I found out about my dad’s real life so there went that. So I had to start over again. And I tried. I even thought I had it figured out with my education and career and Grant...”

  “Have you ever considered an alternative?”

  “Like what?”

  “Embracing the not-normal.”

  She snorted. “Settle for being a freak, you mean?”

  “Settle?” He shook his head. “No. But embrace? Absolutely.”

  “And that’s worked for you?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m totally normal.”

  “Didn’t you just literally tell me last night about how abnormal your family was, and—”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not that something’s wrong,” Nadine replied. “It’s just that I can’t believe that was only yesterday. It feels like I’ve known you for a year.”

  Anderson nodded and went silent as he turned the truck onto the street that led to Whispering Woods’ only industrial complex. Nadine worried at her lip, wondering if her last comment was a bit too much. She wasn’t sure where the line was between meaningful kisses and blurting out a comment that—in very recent retrospect—bordered on something stalkeresque. And she somehow doubted that she could gracefully sidestep her own words. But when Anderson brought the truck through the chain-link fence that wound around the edge of Henderson Storage, then guided it into a parking space and turned toward her, Nadine realized she wouldn’t need to come up with an excuse.

  His blue eyes were tender, his words fierce. “You’re right. It feels like a hell of lot longer than a day. And I want it to keep feeling like that. In fact, I want to feel even more. Which is why I think we should follow this lead—and anything else that comes from it—and put Garibaldi away so we can focus on us.”

  Us. She liked the way it sounded.

  She met Anderson’s eyes. “You realize that all of that just makes me want to sit here and kiss you instead of going in.”

  He shot her a cheeky grin. “Well, I guess if you really want another kiss, you’ll just have to catch me.”

  “Catch you?” Nadine repeated.

  He swung open the door. “Yep.”

  “What if someone’s watching?”

  “Then they’ll get a voyeuristic eyeful.”

  “I don’t mean that kind of watching.”

  “You mean what if someone’s lying in wait?”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You really think I’d let you run around if I had even the tiniest suspicion of danger?”

  Nadine swallowed. “No.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “But you’re not really going to—” She groaned as he hopped out. “You are.”

  “Sure am.”

  He slammed the door shut and loped off. For a second, Nadine stared after him, unable to believe that he was choosing this moment to be playful. That he expected her to chase him. Literally. With another groan, she climbed out, too. But as she moved on quick feet over the hard-packed dirt, she realized that the levity felt good.

  Maybe Anderson knew it would.

  By the time she reached the gate, she could feel a wide smile wanting to break free. And as she rounded it and found Anderson leaned up against the small office building, it burst through, along with a laugh. She felt lighter than she had in months. If she hadn’t thought it sounded crazy, she might’ve admitted it was lighter than she’d felt in years. So when Anderson put out his arms, without hesitating, Nadine threw her arms over his shoulders, pressed her body to his and tipped up her face.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For?”

  “Making me feel okay in this bad situation.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I thought you were here for a kiss.”

  “That, too.”

  She pushed up to her toes, braced herself for the jolt of searing heat she knew would be coming and cemented her lips to his. The simple contact was enough to make her a little breathless. And when his hands came up to the small of her back to pull her closer and his tongue plunged into her mouth, the effect was dizzying. Warmth and desire swept through Nadine. And the intensity grew stronger as Anderson’s palms slid up, then down to splay across her hips possessively. She wanted more. She wanted to get impossibly close. She wanted him.

  “Ahem.”

  The exaggerated sound of a throat clearing made Nadine draw back fast. Her face flushed as she turned and spotted a man clad in a Henderson Storage golf shirt eyeing the two of them with amusement.

  “If you’re looking for a room, you’ve come to the wrong place,” he said.

  Anderson adjusted to sling his arm over Nadine’s shoulders—like he’d done it a thousand times before—and let out a chuckle. “Already got that kinda room, thanks. We’re actually in search of something else.”

  “If it’s a storage solution, I’m your guy. Hank Henderson at your service.”

  “Well, we’re hoping that it’s a solution.” Anderson gave Nadine a squeeze, and she knew he was prompting her to say something.

  “My brother,” she blurted. “I think he had a storage unit here.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “His name was Tyler Strange,” Anderson said.

  Nadine didn’t miss the slight emphasis on the word was, and neither did Hank Henderson.

  “Mr. Strange...nice enough kid. Sorry to hear, but...” He gave his chin a quick scratch.

  “But what?” Anderson prodded.

  “You’ve gotta be Nadine?”

  Nadine nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Weird thing,” Hank said. “Your brother just rented the unit a couple of weeks ago. Paid for three months in cash, then told me that if you came by, to let you in because it might mean he wouldn’t be coming back. Gave me a spare key, just in case. Sounded like the lead-up to an action movie, you know what I mean?”

  “Sorry. We only watch romances,” Anderson said in an utterly serious voice.

  Hank frowned. “This wasn’t a romantic thing. You can trust me on that.”
/>
  A stab of sadness threatened, and Nadine forced it aside. “But you can let us in?”

  “Promised your brother I would. Sit tight and I’ll grab that key.”

  Nadine waited until he’d disappeared into the building before extricating herself from Anderson’s sideways embrace so she could shoot him a properly dirty look.

  “We only watch romance movies?” she said. “Really?”

  “What? It’s true. We’ve watched exactly one movie together and it was a romance.”

  “I fell asleep five minutes in.”

  “Four minutes,” he corrected. “But I’m still counting it.”

  Nadine opened her mouth to argue, but Hank came back out then, a key on a ring hanging from his finger.

  “Here you go,” he said. “It’s unit eighteen. You want me to show you?”

  “I think we’ll be fine.” Anderson took the key, then took Nadine’s hand.

  And less than thirty seconds later, they were standing in front of the slide-up metal door.

  * * *

  Anderson squeezed Nadine’s hand reassuringly one more time. He knew she was anxious, and he didn’t blame her. He also knew, though, that words weren’t going to help. What she needed was to see what her brother had left behind—be that the jewelry box or something else entirely. So he concentrated on that instead.

  He released his hold on her hand, bent to one knee and slid the key into the padlock. A quick twist, and it opened easily.

  Anderson didn’t waste time on being dramatic. He dropped the lock into his coat pocket, then lifted the rolling door up, standing as he did it. Before he could step into the dark room, Nadine’s hand snaked out to clasp his again.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “I am if you are,” Anderson replied.

  He let her tug him forward, but they only made it a couple of steps before she stopped again. The light from outside didn’t carry more than a few feet in, and they were immersed in darkness already.

  “Can you see anything?” Nadine’s question echoed a little in the seemingly cavernous space.

  “Nope. Not even a damned shadow,” Anderson said. “Makes me think it might actually be empty. Don’t see a light switch, either.”

  “I think maybe there’s a string hanging there in the middle.”