A Stranger She Can Trust

by Regan Black

  She gave herself up to his sensual demands, too wired and weary of death to deny herself a moment’s joy.

  “Not here,” he said against her cheek, his hand cupping her head. “In a bed this time.”

  She fisted her hands in his shirt, searching for the warm, sexy scent of him under the layers of fear and the harsh smells of traffic. “One condition.”

  “Anything.”

  She sympathized with the hint of desperation in his voice. Her body was aching to be with him again. “You didn’t take me to dinner to give some bad guy an opening?” Damn it. Her voice quivered on the question and not because of where his lips had been.

  “No. Dinner was for us.” He cupped her and held her gaze captive. “For me. I want you, Lissa. How we met, whatever danger is out there doesn’t factor into it.”

  “I want you, too.” She bolted from the car and, taking his hand, practically raced across the yard and into the house.

  Their progress was slowed by kisses and caresses that threatened to buckle her knees. When they reached the bedroom it seemed to take an eternity to get him out of his clothing, to see his chiseled body in the soft light of the bedside lamp. “You don’t look too injured,” she whispered. She felt suddenly shy, and her worry for him returned as she outlined a few scrapes and areas of swelling along his side. “You’ll have bruises by morning.”

  “We have arnica oil,” he said with a wink. “I’m not really hurt, I promise.”

  “It terrified me to see you bouncing like a pinball out there.” She examined him from head to toe, walking in a tight circle around him.

  “I’ll jump out in traffic every day if you’ll keep looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” She licked her lips, raised her eyes to his.

  He groaned and pulled her close, wrapped around her as he fell with her to the bed. Her head swam and her body soared as they explored each other in alternating waves of excitement and tenderness. He came over her slowly, drove deep into her body, and she matched his passionate pace. When her climax hit, she clung to him, hanging on until he found his release.

  Breathless, she curled into the shelter of his body and lulled herself with the sound of his heart beating under her cheek. That was Carson, rock steady. How lucky was she to have found such a remarkable man? A man who seemed to find her both interesting and enticing.

  She trailed her fingers over his torso, hoping they hadn’t made any bumps and bruises worse. “Did you bump your head? Should I wake you every hour?” she asked, kissing the velvet skin on his chest.

  “Not to ask me the date or time,” he said, snuggling her closer and pulling the sheet over their cooling bodies. “But if you have something more active in mind, I’m all yours.”

  She smothered a laugh. “I’m allowed to worry after seeing you shoved into traffic.”

  He shifted so they were nose to nose. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

  “You weren’t the one looking,” she said with a shiver. For a moment the scene crowded out the pleasantness here beside him. “I thought the worst.”

  He kissed her with feathery touches that soothed and seduced. “So did I, for a second,” he admitted. “And I’m glad for the backup Grant sent along. Otherwise—” he kissed her again “—I would’ve missed this.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t miss this.” Her body was primed for another round, but she thought it smarter to proceed with caution. He was so special and didn’t seem to realize it.

  “Lissa, I was trying to say something important on that corner.” He played with her hair again, not meeting her gaze. “You implied I’ll get tired of babysitting. That’s not how I see it.”

  “That’s how it started,” she pointed out, studiously avoiding eye contact.

  Her heart would have been flopping about on her sleeve had she been wearing any clothing, and she didn’t want to endure another conversation about how functional sex was okay and acceptable. Yes, she’d started it, but somewhere along the way she’d discovered that’s not how she wanted it to finish.

  “A woman in trouble walked into a bar,” he began.

  She heard the smile in his voice, couldn’t resist him. “Or was carried.” Her pulse fluttered at the memory of him simply taking over, taking care.

  “However it started,” he continued, “you’ve shifted something inside me.” He brought her hand to his lips, then laid it over his heart. “We might be moving a little fast here, but do you think we might...”

  His voice trailed off, and she gathered her courage to meet his gaze. “...might keep dating?” she finished.

  “That’s a good start,” he agreed. There was a smile on his lips and a deep seriousness in his eyes that just melted her.

  Then his expression brightened. “Maybe one of these days, we’ll have a date that doesn’t end in some attempt to kill one or both of us.”

  She rolled him to his back and covered his face in soft kisses. “The rooftop wasn’t a date.”

  “I think you were making a play there,” he teased.

  “Uh-uh. You’ll know when I’m making a play.” She brushed her lips over the hard ridges of his chest, down the slope of his abs.

  “Promise?” he asked, but she was done talking for tonight.

  Chapter 10

  Morning came far too soon for Carson when his cell phone sounded long before the alarm. Half asleep and wanting to stay that way, he slapped at the nightstand but couldn’t put his hand on the phone.

  Where was it?

  His foot bumped a feminine leg, and he heard Lissa mumbling about alarm clocks. Praise God she was still here. The impromptu date had ended with incredible sex—with a side trip into traffic, his body reminded him with a few complaints as he scrambled for his jeans and the pocket where he’d last seen his phone.

  He found it, swiped to answer when he saw Grant’s face on the display. “We’re fine,” he said immediately. “Didn’t your guy call?” He leaned against the side of the bed and scooped his hair out of his eyes. He listened as Grant ran down the facts he had.

  “That covers it,” Carson said. “It was a pretty lame effort to hurt me,” he said. “There was no reason for it,” he added.

  “Carson?” Lissa queried from the bed.

  “Down here. It’s Grant.”

  Through the phone, he heard his boss smother a laugh. “How did the meeting with Evelyn go?” Grant asked diplomatically.

  “I’d like to discuss it with you,” Carson replied. “Can I swing by the club after I drop off Lissa at the museum this morning?”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Grant ended the call on a cough or a laugh. Carson decided it didn’t matter when Lissa’s hands raked through his hair, down to his shoulders. He didn’t need an engraved invitation.

  When her alarm went off a half hour later, he plucked her lithe body from the bed and carried her to the shower.

  He could get used to this. Even breakfast on the run was worth it for a few extra minutes kissing Lissa. Life was urgent and he was done wasting time. At the museum entrance, he gave her a goodbye kiss that jacked up his heart rate and with luck, hers, too, to tide them over through the day.

  He still struggled with the idea of leaving her alone and then called himself an idiot. He thought of picking up coffee and finally recognized the procrastination hitting him square in the face. Grant always had coffee brewing at the club, strong enough to melt chest hair.

  He drove straight to the club and found Grant outside, staring at the river that separated Pennsylvania and New Jersey. By way of greeting, Grant handed Carson a to-go cup filled with coffee.

  “Thanks.”

  “Last night bothers me.”

  Carson had figured that, too. “Which part?” he asked, knowing Grant’s mind, sharpened by his years on the polic
e force, often delved deeper than surface details at a swift pace.

  “I gave you all night to call me,” Grant said, leveling that steely stare at Carson.

  “Your man told me he had it covered.”

  “Not the same thing.” Grant rolled his shoulders. “When I took on this place, I just wanted it to be a club. Good music, good people having a great time.”

  Carson thought he’d nailed it.

  “Then it changed, just a little, under the surface.” He chugged more coffee. “Maybe it was always supposed to be more.”

  “You’ve never stopped being what made you a cop,” Carson observed.

  “It hooks you deep and keeps you,” Grant agreed. “Same for most of us in public service.”

  So this was destined to be another “get back on the horse” pep talk. “Evelyn gave me until Monday to decide about going back full-time.”

  “Gracious of her.”

  “I suppose. She’s been more than patient.” Carson took another cautious sip of the hot, strong brew in his cup. “I hesitate to leave Lissa alone.”

  “She’s got two teams of good guys tailing her,” Grant pointed out.

  “And still the bad guys pushed me into traffic.” Carson realized why and swore. “They were checking who would help her out.”

  “Calculated risk. The woman who jumped in is from Narcotics. She’s temporarily off the rotation until they know if her cover is completely blown.”

  “They played it like Good Samaritans,” Carson assured him. “But anyone watching Lissa has more information now.”

  “She means something to you.” Grant stated the truth in his direct way.

  “Yes.” The admission was out there and impossible to take back. “I know it sounds strange and probably dumb.”

  Grant winced and held up a hand, stopping him. “Please don’t explain it.” Rubbing the stubble of whiskers on his chin, he pondered a tour boat moving up the river. “I just wanted it to be a club.”

  They were quiet for long minutes and the persistent restlessness Carson had been fighting since Sarah’s death eased. “Why is Alexander the code name?” he asked at last.

  “Definition of the name is defender. It’s also Katie’s maiden name, and she was sort of the first client.” Every time he mentioned his wife, he smiled. “Plus, no one on the staff went by the name when the Escape Club opened.”

  “Why start that protocol, anyway?” He was still sorting out the matchbook and Sarah’s possible connection to Noelle.

  “You’ve been here for months, Carson. Has the club been any help to you?” He sipped his coffee, waiting for the expected confirmation.

  “Of course, the club’s been a big help. Being here kept me going through some hard days.”

  “There’s a vibe,” Grant agreed. “One I should’ve expected, considering who I hire. I created the Escape Club for me, my interests, and soon discovered I couldn’t turn away others in tight places, civilian or civil servant.”

  “You’ve given the community an anchor, especially on this side of town.”

  “Right.” Grant turned to face him. “You were strong enough to go back to work months ago. You just couldn’t see it. I’ve been through those dark days myself.”

  Carson swallowed the hollow protest.

  “It’s impossible to know how long it will take to drop a net over the people chasing Lissa,” Grant continued. “You can’t keep your life on hold. Evelyn, you—hell, the community at large—needs you to make a decision.”

  Carson snorted at the idea of the community waiting for him to do anything. He was one man assigned to an ambulance. The fear of commitment and failure twisted in his gut. What if—

  “What if nothing.” Grant glared at him, and only then did Carson realize he’d voiced the partial question. “You’re one of the best. Not just good. One of the best.”

  As pep talks went, the words were familiar, but not the hard tone.

  “Listen to me. I didn’t have a choice. You do. You went through hell with Sarah. Do you think we don’t understand that? You grieved. News flash, pal. You always will. Whether it gets better with time depends on you and what you choose to focus on.”

  “I panicked on the rooftop when someone shot at us at Lissa’s place,” he confessed. “She covered for me and pulled me out of it. We both know if that happens on a call, my partner’s in jeopardy.” That useless sensation weighed him down.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Grant studied him, and Carson feared he saw too much.

  “No, we’re not.” He had to make his point and get out of here. “It’s the same damn cycle. I choked out there with Sarah, I choked on the roof and I could choke again. That’s not good for a partner, the department or the community at large.” He was shouting by the time he finished, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. He doubled over, hoping this time the anguish tearing at him would be purged for good.

  Grant crouched beside him. “It’s hard work being a hero, harder still to deny it. You’re a paramedic, Carson. You know you can’t save everyone.”

  “Sarah...” He couldn’t say more than her name.

  “Come on.” With a groan, Grant pulled them both upright. “My partner died the night I was injured. Guilt is a brutal mistress, and you’ve got to cut her out if you want to make room for a life worth living.”

  Carson didn’t reply. Logic and emotions were still wrestling for dominance.

  “Have you visited with the people who are alive because you kept Sarah going long enough to donate her organs?”

  He shook his head.

  “I have some experience with survivor guilt,” Grant said. “I know how our minds can blow things out of proportion. You need to give yourself some grace.”

  “Everyone says that to me,” he snapped. “I’m just...” Did he dare admit it? “I’m furious.” He tapped his sternum with his closed fist. “I’m furious with me. I should have protected her somehow. Taken the bullet. Something! I’m furious with the bastards who killed her and with the cops who can’t find them and close her case.” The only time that fury had eased was when Lissa entered his life and things got personal. Still, he worried that if he wasn’t careful, he’d let her down, too.

  “Always the quiet ones,” Grant said with an amused snort. “The first step is admitting it. Good job.”

  “And the second step?”

  “Justice for Sarah wouldn’t hurt. Failing that, you need a safe outlet.” Grant rocked back on his heels. “You must be pissed all over again with Werner’s insinuations that Sarah was playing for the wrong side.”

  “Damn right I am. She wasn’t dirty. You don’t know her past like I do.”

  “I looked into it,” Grant said.

  That caught Carson off guard. “Why?”

  “She got wind that I did more than offer temp positions to cops and firefighters here. She came to me, looking for a way to help out beyond stabilizing and transporting patients.”

  Carson could see that perfectly. Sarah would rant, feeling particularly helpless when they were dispatched time and again to the same domestic violence calls. “That’s why the matchbooks were in the rig?”

  “Yes.” Grant nodded slowly. “Once I was satisfied she was trustworthy and absolutely clean, we created a system.”

  “Then you know after surviving her addict mom and violent dad, she’d never mess with dealing drugs. She barely escaped her neighborhood alive.”

  “I know.” Grant sighed. “I’ve told Werner and Evelyn the same thing.”

  “Lissa told me she was wearing Noelle’s denim jacket on Friday night and the Escape Club matchbook was in the pocket.”

  Grant gave that some thought. “If Noelle got that matchbook from Sarah, it was because Sarah wanted to help her.”

  “Could
it be that what Werner sees as guilt by association was really a rescue attempt?” Carson asked.

  “I’ll share the theory with him,” Grant replied.

  Sarah working with Grant threw an entirely different spotlight on the potential connections between her and Noelle. Carson needed some time and space to go back and review those final days and weeks with Sarah in this new context. “She didn’t do anything criminal,” he said.

  “No argument here,” Grant said. “You know, if you don’t feel like going back on a rig, you might try being a private investigator.”

  “Nah.” Carson felt his lips curve. “The last thing I need is a new career.” He was starting to believe the original career might fit again, after all.

  * * *

  Lissa managed to get through the morning almost as if it was a normal day. As if she hadn’t shared mind-blowing sex with a man who’d slipped into her heart when she wasn’t looking. While part of her floated about three feet off the ground, ready to burst into song and dance, another part of her mind poked at her relationship with Noelle and what it meant to know her friend had been involved with drug dealers.

  Her delicious crush on Carson and her work offered only so much distraction from the recent hellish events, and her focus shattered completely when security called down to announce she had visitors in the form of her parents.

  No doubt now, the end of the world was imminent. The visit wasn’t just a surprise. It was completely out of character. They hadn’t even bothered attending her college graduation, mystified by her decision to stay in Philly. She’d been expecting a phone call, but to leave a dig was an extreme gesture and she wasn’t sure how to feel.

  She crossed to Elaine’s office, marveling that she hadn’t yet been fired. No, Friday’s attack wasn’t her fault, yet her work was far from her best this week in light of everything. “Pardon me,” she said, hesitating in the open doorway.

  Elaine shifted her gaze from her computer and smiled at Lissa. “What do you need?”

  “Security says my parents are here. Is it okay to bring them down?”