by A. J. Quinn
Or the pair of hormonally challenged teenagers, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Holding hands, oblivious of the crowd as they exchanged a tentative kiss. God, had she ever been that young?
And of course, there was Tate. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes soft and alluring, she sent Evan a smile that lit up her face before she resumed shopping with a single-minded focus.
Evan nodded and smiled back. Glad she had readily agreed with Tate’s decision to come here today, she settled contentedly to wait for her while continuing to watch the ebb and flow of people and activity with interest.
It was the sense of being watched that pulled her abruptly out of her thoughts. A subtle, subconscious warning. Evan stiffened and stood without moving for ten seconds, then twenty.
Being watched wasn’t a particularly unique experience for a woman who’d grown up with two high-profile parents. But this felt different, and as the awareness intensified and the disquieting sensation lingered, she turned nonchalantly in a slow circle and looked back into the crowd, hoping to discover Tate watching her.
Her brief moment of optimistic hope sputtered and died when it became quickly apparent Tate was no longer nearby. It took a minute longer of searching the faces in the growing throng before she finally spotted her. Maybe thirty feet away, she had wandered near the produce stalls and was engaged in an animated conversation with a vendor, adding fresh fruit and vegetables to her growing load of groceries.
Finding herself alone and feeling inexplicably vulnerable, Evan reached for the pair of aviator sunglasses she had tucked into the collar of her T-shirt and slipped them into place. The sunglasses helped restore a much needed sense of anonymity and after a few seconds, she casually glanced around again. Watched people go by.
No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to her. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling, the sense of imminent danger, and the people milling around her suddenly seemed less friendly, less entertaining.
Perilously close to an unreasoning panic, Evan struggled to pull in a deep breath. She quickly decided what she needed was some fresh air. And she didn’t want to wait for Tate to return.
Actually, she couldn’t wait. Not for a second longer. Moving as swiftly as her leg and the crowded venue would allow, she edged toward one of the exits before suddenly coming to a stop, her heartbeat accelerating.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, unable to move, unable to breathe. Because for a fleeting instant, she thought she’d seen a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. She inhaled sharply and felt her heart stutter. Her eyes frantically searched the area, but as she scanned the crowd once again, she realized she had to have been mistaken.
It just wasn’t possible.
It was a trick of light.
A flashback. PTSD.
The sensation of being watched persisted, and knowing it was her imagination playing tricks on her didn’t help.
Fear sat in the back of Evan’s throat. She could taste it as she swallowed. As the fear strengthened its hold, a wave of dizziness swept over her, and her knees almost buckled. Only her reflexes as she grabbed for a door prevented her from falling.
She didn’t draw a full breath until she was through the door and back in the sunlight. Stumbling as she got outside, Evan moved quickly to lean against a nearby wall, allowing people to pass her as she tried to regain her equilibrium. Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear nothing else, and she was all but hyperventilating. But she would not lose it here. Not if she could help it.
Just the thought of seeing Khalid—even in a flashback—triggered an onslaught of painful images she couldn’t restrain, and it took several minutes before she could restore any semblance of calm and composure. Lost in a dark world of swirling memories and emotions, she felt arms slide around her waist, and her body recognized Tate’s touch before her head did. Groaning softly, she felt her heart catch as Tate’s breath brushed against her skin, and she gratefully absorbed the strength Tate offered as she pressed against her back.
Tate’s presence served to ground her. It reminded her life could still be safe. Warm. Vibrant. But her body was still trembling and Evan reached instinctively for Tate’s hands, lightly grasping them. Breathing in her warm familiar scent as she wrapped herself tightly in Tate’s embrace.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Tate’s tone reflected concern.
After a brief hesitation, Evan turned within the circle of her arms until they were face-to-face. “It’s nothing.”
Tate continued to hold Evan in her arms. Tilting her head back, she regarded her until their eyes met and held, and Evan could see the flicker of disquiet in Tate’s face.
“Come on, I can tell something’s wrong,” she chided gently. “And you should know you can tell me anything.”
“I know—but it was stupid.”
“What was stupid?”
Evan shifted uncomfortably under Tate’s scrutiny and stared at the ground. The question remained in the air between them and she bit the inside of her cheek. If she was being honest with herself, shouldn’t she be honest with Tate?
“For a moment—for a moment I’d swear there was someone standing in the crowd watching me,” she admitted uneasily.
“Someone?” Tate stiffened.
“Okay, Khalid. I thought I saw Khalid.”
“You thought you saw—”
“You don’t need to say anything. I know it’s impossible, it’s just PTSD. The doctors warned me this could happen, and now my mind’s playing games—” She stopped and groaned in frustration, not knowing how to continue.
“Don’t say that.” Tate gave her a gentle squeeze as she looked around. “Listen, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we get out of here and head back to the boat?”
What she wanted, Evan thought, was to be left alone in a dark room. To fade into the void she’d discovered in Afghanistan, where she could escape the pain of reality.
No, not this time.
What she wanted was to turn back the clocks to a time before she’d been blown out of the sky. Before she’d discovered just how real monsters could actually be. And then she wanted to lose herself in Tate’s arms.
Thinking of Tate brought her abruptly back into the present. What had Tate suggested? Something about canceling their plans for the day and heading back to the boat? She shook her head and forced herself to smile.
“That’s not necessary. Really,” she quickly added in response to the look Tate was giving her. “I overreacted and got a little lightheaded for a second or two, but I’m okay now. I guess I’m not used to crowds anymore.”
Tate raised an eyebrow and regarded her thoughtfully. “This from a woman who lived on an aircraft carrier through how many deployments?”
Evan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of funny when you think about it, but the worst is over and I’m already feeling better. Why don’t you finish the shopping you wanted to do while I sit here in the sun like a lazy cat? While you’re gone, you can think about where you want me to take you for lunch.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Tate countered. “It just so happens I picked up enough that I could make us a picnic. I’ve got deli meat, salmon, cheese, salads, and sourdough rolls. Why don’t we get you and the groceries back to the boat where you can relax away from the crowds? I’ll find us a secluded spot and we can have lunch out on the water.”
“That sounds like a terrific idea if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Catching hold of Tate’s hand, Evan gratefully pressed a kiss into her palm. “Did you by chance also pick up something sweet for later?”
“As a matter of fact, I got fresh strawberries because I seem to remember how much you like them. And some—”
“Chocolate?”
Tate laughed. “Could I possibly pick up groceries and not buy chocolate?”
“You’ve got a point.”
*
He’d dreamed of her last night.
He groaned as he remembered how his knife had
danced across her bare skin leaving a trail of dark red blood in its wake. He allowed the memory to play out in his mind a while longer. Glorious, he thought, but no longer enough.
He hadn’t anticipated running into her in the market. It had happened so unexpectedly he’d had no time to think things through. For a moment their eyes had locked, and his body tingled as his mind slipped into a dangerous fantasy, imagining grabbing her there and then. In a crowded public venue. The anticipated thrill almost overwhelmed him, almost overrode his sense of caution.
Almost.
He laughed when he thought about how she turned ghostly pale and stumbled out of the building, fear clearly stealing her breath in her rush to get away from him. He gave her retreating back a cheerful wave, taunting her even though he knew she couldn’t see it.
Slipping through the crowd, he followed her. Contemplating his next move as he watched the other woman approach. Her girlfriend. Tate.
He saw them talk quietly, then followed them with his eyes as they walked toward the marina. When they disappeared from view, lost in the maze of pleasure craft, he raised his long wickedly sharp knife and pressed his lips against the cold steel.
His hands ached, his fingers itched. As he fingered the knife, already he could feel the warmth of her blood, smell its coppery scent. See the horror and pain in her eyes. It would be so good. And it would have to be soon.
Chapter Twenty-five
While Tate got Evan settled on the boat and prepared to make way, the possibilities circled in her mind. Evan’s experiences in Afghanistan had left her hypervigilant. Of course she would sense someone watching her. Following her.
Was it possible? Was Khalid actually in Seattle? Had Evan really seen him or was it a symptom of PTSD?
Both scenarios were fraught with pitfalls.
If it was PTSD, then Evan’s current mental state was more precarious than she’d thought.
But if it was even remotely possible Khalid had been at the market, then Evan was in real physical danger. It meant she needed to get her away from here. Fast.
In that moment, she made a conscious decision to do what she should have done in the first place. Not wait and tell Evan everything. About the bombing in Vancouver, the suspect who had been arrested, and his past connection to Khalid. About her fear Khalid might be making his way to Seattle. About Alex arranging to meet with the sheriff.
She didn’t want Evan unaware of any potential danger she might be in or get caught by surprise should Khalid suddenly appear. And she didn’t want Evan to think she was going crazy, seeing apparitions.
It would be a difficult conversation. If she was honest, she wasn’t looking forward to the eventual fallout when Evan realized she’d gone behind her back to Alex. And when she learned of Alex’s plan—
But it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
It didn’t take long before she had them back out on open water, but Tate was unable to relax until the Seattle skyline was receding in the distance. She knew her anxiety showed—Evan looked at her curiously on several occasions but, mercifully, didn’t ask any questions.
Tate didn’t allow herself to relax until she guided the vessel to a secluded cove on the leeward side of one of the many uninhabited islands. The water was calm, the sun was warm, and they were alone except for the gulls aloft in the gentle breeze. A good place, she decided, to have a leisurely lunch. And a good place to have a heart-to-heart conversation.
She turned and looked around for Evan. Not because there was any immediate reason to worry now that they’d left Seattle behind. Mostly, she just didn’t feel comfortable having her out of her line of sight, not for a single moment.
She expected to find her enjoying the passing scenery. Or possibly, she could hope, asleep beneath the brilliant blue of the sky. Instead, she was astonished to see her sitting on a bench seat on the deck, one long blue-jeaned leg curled under her, while she carefully balanced a sketch pad on her lap. Her head was bent, her eyes fixed on the pad, and her attention was focused intently on the image she was creating.
Moistening her lips with the tip of a tongue, Tate continued to watch her. When did you take up drawing?
That there were facets to her lover she had yet to discover was not surprising. They’d spent so much time apart, and there was much they both needed to learn about each other. But Tate was still left feeling disconcerted.
The ease and comfort with which she was sketching told Tate drawing was nothing new to Evan. Her hand moved with obvious confidence across the page, and she appeared to have effectively shut out all extraneous distractions as she concentrated on what she was doing to the exclusion of everything else.
What Tate couldn’t discern from her vantage point was if, like her brother, Evan had serious talent or whether drawing was simply a way to pass the time. Knowing Evan, she would hazard a guess there was talent.
She made a mental note to ask if she could see her sketches.
*
While Tate was busy finding the right location to moor the boat, Evan put her sketch pad away and went below to select a bottle of wine to go with their lunch. Finding Tate’s well-stocked cooler, she chose a Pinot Noir and was still in the galley searching for glasses and a corkscrew when she heard her cut the engines and drop anchor.
Tate had been in an odd frame of mind since she’d told her about the flashback. It was possible she’d revealed too much too soon and Tate was now worried about her mental health. Not entirely without cause.
But after everything Tate had been through because of her, she’d be damned if she’d let her brood. She just needed to come up with an idea or two to get her out of her somber mood.
Heading back up a few minutes later, she joined Tate on the flybridge and half filled two glass tumblers before setting the wine bottle down on a table. Without the steady rumble of the boat’s engines, the silence settled upon them like a benediction, broken only by the sound of the water hitting gently against the hull.
Breathing in the salty air, Evan let the rhythmic motion of the waves lull her. Much as she suspected had been Tate’s intention, the combination of being out on the water, the rugged splendor of the coastline, and Tate’s gentle presence had lifted her spirits. She held a glass out for Tate then raised her own glass in a toast to the beauty and peace that surrounded them.
She kicked off her running shoes, then dropped onto a cushioned seat. She inhaled deeply once again and let the water, sun, and wind blur the remaining edges of tension churning inside her, allowing what had turned into a picture-perfect day to soothe and heal.
With one elbow propped on the table and her jaw in the palm of her hand, she alternately sipped from and played lazily with her glass, swirling the wine and admiring the way the sun’s light sparkled in the translucent liquid. She remembered reading how someone had described Pinot Noir as sex in a glass. She took another sip and felt a heated rush as the wine flowed through her body.
Almost orgasmic, she thought and grinned.
For no discernible reason—or possibly because of the direction her wayward thoughts had taken—an image flashed in her mind. A moment out of the past. A hotel in Amsterdam.
She had been lying in bed with Tate, taking her time as she explored every inch of her soft, warm, and inviting body. Absorbing her heat and tasting her sweetness. Breathing in her essence and getting lost in the wonder of the moment while Tate writhed and begged for more.
How long she stayed revisiting that singular moment in time wasn’t clear. She was lost, lost in a pulsing heat and aching want that had somehow coalesced into one woman for her.
Tate.
With her focus slowly returning to the present, Evan felt shaky as she looked across the deck at Tate. Truly saw her for possibly the first time since she had been rescued from her own personal version of hell. And in a moment of perfect clarity, she realized she had never been more physically and emotionally aware of or drawn to another human being.
A shiver rippled th
rough her and she found herself suddenly consumed with wanting—no, needing—Tate. Needing to touch her. Needing to kiss her. Needing to wrap herself around her and lose herself in Tate’s welcoming heat. And just maybe she would discover the missing pieces of herself in the process.
She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again without uttering a word. She didn’t know what to say. She remained frozen, conscious only of an ache buried deep inside her. Then Tate looked up and smiled at her and she lost all ability to think.
Jesus.
Her heart began to race and she found herself standing at one of life’s crossroads, knowing some decisions were smarter than others, and some were long overdue. Something shifted inside her as if a knot had unraveled, and a sudden awareness too strong to be denied helped Evan push past any lingering doubts and indecision. Digging deeper, she found and gathered her misplaced courage.
The light breeze ruffled her hair, sending a few errant strands across her face. She absently brushed it back and stood up before she could change her mind. She felt a wave of vertigo sweep over her but ignored it and walked toward Tate who had turned and was looking at her quizzically.
“Do you need something, love?”
Yes.
She was keenly aware of Tate’s eyes following her, watching her attentively, searching her face as she closed the remaining distance between them. She stepped close enough to brush her index finger in a slow sensual glide over Tate’s cheek.
She saw the quickening of the pulse at Tate’s throat, felt the heat radiating off her body, saw the fire-flash of awareness in her eyes. Followed by the wariness.
The air sparked with supercharged memories and she reacted to the moment. Slowly, very slowly, she eased against Tate until their bodies touched at the one spot where she knew both of them ached.