Strike Fear (Hawk Elite Security Book 2)

by Beth Rhodes

  “I’ll get changed and we can go to the gym. Unless, we could run. Do you like to run?”

  Again, her eyes brightened. “Yes. Let’s.”

  So they did. And through the cool morning air and the silent companionship created by their physical exertion together, Tan let a small amount of hope grow. Maybe they had a chance.

  When this was over…

  ***

  Claire had reported the assault two months after it happened.

  Despite an inconsistent report, the young man was arrested for sexual assault and given twelve months in jail followed by a year of therapy and community service. She’d gotten away with murder. She’d led another good boy astray.

  Now she needed to be punished.

  Worry sat heavy on her conscience, though, as she thought of the new girl. And Tancredo. He was falling for her. She was certain of it. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look in his eyes.

  Maybe she’d never seen it before.

  And she had to think really hard. Had he ever had a special friend?

  She scratched an itch on the back of her neck.

  Bug bites.

  Nope. She was pretty sure Tan had never shared any affection with a girl.

  And didn’t that get her thinking?

  She sat at the computer, tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk, and did one more search—Elizabeth Whitney, Olympic Skater.

  “No,” she whispered, reading down, scrolling, reading more. “No.”

  Elizabeth Whitney was one of them.

  ~ 18 ~

  The crowd pressed in.

  Her breath shortened. Her hands shook. Her gaze searched frantically for a lifeline. “Dad—” Her voice was cut off by the bump from behind. But he heard her, anyway, and reached for her hand.

  And reached.

  And reached.

  Then slid away, further away.

  “Come back—” Anger coated her words. But it was anger at the dream.

  A dream. Weak as a kitten, she fought the dream, fought the crowds. But they crushed her, squeezed into her space. The knowing and not being able to escape…

  A tall blonde, the dark blue eyes, towered over her. “Wake up,” Gabriel said, a sneer on his too thin lips. Arms wrapped around her. Gabriel? This time she fought waking, wishing to sink deeper into sleep. “No,” she answered, even as that subconscious mist began to clear.

  Her arms were trapped behind her, twisted in her blankets. She couldn’t break free.

  Liz scrambled and sat up as her sleep finally broke, and she tripped off the bed, slammed her shoulder into something solid, and moaned when her rear hit the floor.

  “Elizabeth, look at me!” Tan’s voice broke through.

  “Tan.” The tears broke even as she suppressed the accompanying sob. She quickly wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. Jesus. I’m sorry.”

  Tan carefully crouched before her like she was a wild animal, and she almost laughed but knowing a laugh would immediately turn into a sob stopped her. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” He knelt.

  Her throat closed on the kindness in his voice. She nodded, squeezing her eyes tight as the feeling of a good cry dissipated. Liz took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  He helped her stand.

  She wanted to cling. God, she wanted to touch him and be touched.

  When he took her hand, it seemed like her world went halfway back to right. He pulled her into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. She blinked, grateful for the blast of reality it brought, even more grateful for the warm atmosphere and the way his home hugged her in colors and textures.

  He poured her a glass of juice.

  “This is embarrassing.” Liz sipped. “Usually I know exactly what’s going to happen in the dream. And I wake up.”

  “You’re in a new place.”

  “Yes. And I dreamed I was still with Gabe.”

  He frowned.

  “I’ve trained myself to wake up. But, this time, I actually fought waking up. I was afraid.” She took another sip, the routine of it settling her nerves. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” he said, and there was an edge of annoyance. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He shook his shoulders, shaking something off and making her internal radar go on alert.

  “We should get ready to go.” The distance in his voice stopped her. “We’ll stop at your shop, headquarters, and—do you have plans to meet with Janice today?”

  She’d freaked him out. And, in a way, that pissed her off a little. “No. No plans. I need to get to my workshop. I need to work on the costumes for the Expo and for my client.” She hugged her stomach. “Look. You said we were friends, right?”

  He wouldn’t look her in the eyes though.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “Yes, damn it, but any friendship we might have and your being here, when you can as easily be at your dad’s, is a mistake if you can’t get through the night without nightmares.”

  She should have known because, aside from the snide way he called her princess, he was as protective as any of her brothers. And in moments, he would literally touch her so gently, with his hands, his words. “The dreams aren’t because of being here or being close to you or,” her sentence trailed, embarrassed by the truth, “or anything. As a matter of fact, the dreams have been reoccurring since those months following the attack. They aren’t always exactly the same. Sometimes, no, usually I get away no problem. The dreams hardly even scare me anymore. But you’re right. I’m in a new place and dealing with you. There’s a mess of uncertainty playing with my mind. Will I survive the week?”

  “Hey—”

  “Can I trust you?” She threw up her hands, “No. Can I trust myself?”

  “You know you can—”

  “Will I be able to let you go when this is all over—?”

  Tan’s mouth fell open.

  Heat rose on her face, but she didn’t avoid his gaze, either. She had every right to wonder if they might have more. Especially since she was wanting more. “There I go, making an idiot of myself again.” She laughed, nerves flaring in her stomach. “Forget I said anything. My point is, there’s a lot going on in my life. Being here with you isn’t setting off the dreams. I have them.”

  “Have you talked to someone?” A frown furrowed his brow. And part of her was relieved he didn’t pick her embarrassing admittance to focus on. Not that she thought he didn’t hear it. But, it had become clear he was a fixer. And…

  She needed fixing.

  “I saw all the doctors.” She shrugged. “It’s been a while. And the dreams don’t scare me anymore.”

  Tan’s brow rose.

  “Tonight notwithstanding, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” she whispered, finally, unable to break the connection of his gaze on her. She saw the war going on in his mind, saw him fighting with himself. She could see it, because she felt it too.

  And then she stepped forward, and he opened his arms, pulling her in.

  The hug was soft and hard and comforting and seducing…it was a little bit of everything she’d never had with any other man. Relief flooded her, washed away the last images of her dream, and bolstered her courage, too. “Will you tell me if there’s any way we can take this beyond our current circumstances?”

  He winced, but knowing him, he wasn’t trying to insult her. Then he brought those strong, gentle hands to her face. “You tempt me, Liz.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t mean to. “I’m tempting?”

  “Jesus, lady. How do you not know how tempting you are?”

  “Well, excuse me.” She pushed back. But he tightened his grip, pulled her forward, and planted his lips on hers in a show of how badly he might want her—demanding, needy, wanting. She moaned, sinking into it and gripping his shirt. The touch of his hand on her bare shoulder shocked her. Its warmth surrounded her. Holy cow, his lips were so soft.

  And then he
stopped and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t make any promises, Liz. I won’t make promises. But, if this ends, it ends sharply and completely, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to be friends with you.

  “I will never be able to be just friends. Not with the way I ache to have you.”

  ***

  He couldn’t believe he’d gone so far as to admit those thoughts to her.

  And fucking-A, he’d kissed her. And, if he gave in to his feminine sappy side, it was the sweetest embrace he’d ever shared. Every quick fuck he’d had in the last ten years was obliterated by a kiss.

  Shit. Closed-mouthed, soft seduction, which left him ridiculously hard.

  He didn’t know if it was a mistake or not, but he couldn’t deny perhaps he’d thrown down the gauntlet. He’d challenged her with his words, probably more dangerous than all the mindless, meaningless sex he’d ever had.

  John Vega poked his head into the arms room at the back of headquarters and Tan nodded his way. “Yo.”

  “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing.” He was cleaning guns after the morning session at the shooting range. Liz had stayed at her dad’s, Bobby was on guard duty so Tan could take care of a few details…like checking in with Gabriel and checking in on the progress Malcolm had made with the list.

  John continued to stand there.

  “What?”

  “Something’s up with you. You’ve been quiet all day.”

  Tan rolled his eyes. “I’m always quiet.”

  “Not like this.”

  Tan pulled back on the slide, glanced into the chamber, and wiped at a bit of oil along the wall. It snapped back into place and he set the gun aside on the blue felt-covered table. “Are we going to do Oprah again around here?”

  “Nope. Just curious if you need a break, need someone to cover your hours with the client, or—”

  “No,” he answered, probably too sharply.

  John chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. I heard she was staying at your place.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t even know where you live. You’re isolated, and now you’ve got this girl living with you?” He shrugged. “And you’re quiet.”

  “Fuck. I’m not quiet. I’m sitting in the arms room, alone. Who do you suggest I talk to, John?” Frustration coursed through him. “God?”

  “Hey, now.”

  “Oh, gee. Sorry Reverend.” His assholeness was showing, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

  Then the bastard snorted, laughing at him. “I’m Catholic.”

  “Gonna become a fucking priest, John? Or are you going to leave me the fuck alone?”

  But nothing rattled the guy. And that, in and of itself, was a bigger annoyance than the fact that he was in here trying to have a touchy-feely chit-fucking-chat with him. Tan blew out a breath.

  Okay. Maybe he did need an Oprah moment. “I kissed her.”

  “Aah.” The loaded sound was enough.

  Tan slammed the lid to his case closed. “Aren’t you supposed to be working for the FBI or something? What are you doing here, anyway?”

  John let him change the subject—thankfully. “Came home to pack my stuff. I’m headed to New Mexico, if you can believe it.”

  “No way. What the hell is going on over there that the FBI cares about?”

  “More training.”

  Tan nodded. “You ever find the woman you were looking for?”

  “Not yet.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t given up.”

  He flipped the lock, picked up the case, and set it on the floor. “Maybe you’ll find her out there at Area 51.”

  “Haha.” John spoke, deadpan. “She’s real, and I’ll find her.”

  Tan looked up into the face of determination. “I believe you.”

  “And you…you be careful with your client.”

  A twist of the knife as he turned the conversation back to Tan.

  “You know Hawk doesn’t have a hard set of rules…”

  “But I can’t get distracted.”

  John grinned. “Exactly.”

  Waving his buddy aside, he left the room and went down the hall to the front room where Josie sat at her desk. “Any word from the department?” he asked as he set his case next to the door.

  “Malcolm left this for you.” Josie looked over her black-framed glasses and handed him a manila folder. She was this disciplinary mother-figure, and she made him nervous with those piercing eyes. It was like she could read his soul and knew all his dirty secrets.

  “What?” he said.

  “Your sister called. You go over there when you leave and check on her.”

  Guilt and regret were easy to say no to…Josie wasn’t.

  “Fine. Would you call Bobby and check in on things?”

  “Yes, I will.” She tapped at the computer in front of her. “But don’t try to make me believe you aren’t already on the line with your client.”

  “Of course, I am,” he scowled. “I’ll call her on my way over,” he added. “Hey Josie.”

  “I know. I’m wonderful. I keep everyone in line. I’m amazing.” She didn’t even bother looking at him. “You’re welcome. Just…don’t be a dumb ass, okay?”

  A dumb ass.

  That’s exactly how he felt after this morning.

  ~ 19 ~

  Tan made the side trip to his mom’s.

  Josie texted him the A-OK from Bobby, so he decided against calling Liz. He wasn’t sure which was more dumb ass; hurting her feelings by ignoring her or leading her on by caring for her.

  He did care, too much. It could totally blow up in his face. Or worse, in her face.

  She was from a different world than his. His world was crazy messy, filled with drug addictions and degenerate extended family and fairly low expectations. As much as getting to know her had convinced him he really liked her, he still couldn’t imagine her in his world.

  But it wasn’t only that she was white and he was black or she came from wealth and he from the south side of town. He had wealth, had earned and invested his money. No, it wasn’t only the socioeconomic differences…there was something more about her.

  And when it came right down to it, he wasn’t sure how he could fit into her world either.

  He had to keep his mind off of them…as a them. She was a client. He was Tancredo Byrnes, son of a lousy father and a pathetic, drugged excuse for a mother.

  Pulling the reports on her ex-boyfriend and two skaters she’d gone head-to-head with over the years, he read through them again. The reports on her former competition held more interest to him, because yesterday a woman had gotten to her.

  Still, a man could get into the women’s restroom. But he had to trust her report, her version of the story. She’d been clear-eyed and mad. Not dazed and confused.

  His eyes burned from his time in front of the computer and reading reports.

  He picked up his cell and sent a text.

  Hey. Everything ok?

  She answered right away.

  Doing fine. Be done in about 45.

  The connection drew him in, made him want more.

  Your dad still there?

  Her answer came delayed.

  Yes. I’m fine… I promise. Stop worrying.

  He tossed the phone down with a curse and then ran his hand through his too-long hair.

  He needed to get this job over with and get out of Liz’s life for good.

  She messed with his head. If the guys noticed he was acting different, and even she was accusing him of being a worrier, it was time to make a new plan. He couldn’t afford to put anything resembling affection on the line.

  No more kisses. No more talk about kisses. Fuck.

  Leaning back in the folding chair, his gaze caught on the faded linoleum of the kitchen and the drab look of the carpet under his feet. His mom refused to let him help—financially. He admired her stubborn streak, and hated it as well. The fake wood paneling on the walls
behind him had been there the year they’d moved in; he’d been twelve, Thomas ten, and Mom, pregnant with Andrea.

  “Hi, Tan.”

  Tan dropped the chair back on all four legs. “Hi, Andrea.” He waved her over. “How’s it going?”

  She shrugged and rested her hip on the back of his chair. “You didn’t have to come over today. I could have taken care of myself.”

  “I like coming here,” he white-lied. “Otherwise, I’d never get to see you.” He snaked his arm around her waist. She was the only sibling he had left, and his heart fell when she tensed against his embrace. Good days and bad days. It had been like that for as long as he could remember.

  He patted her on the back and closed the folder on the desktop. He lowered the computer screen, too. She’d been part of enough darkness. He wouldn’t expose her to more.

  “What are you working on?” She’d been born curious, though, and persistent. Tan sighed.

  “My latest client. Someone is trying to hurt her, and I want to figure out who.”

  She fingered the corner of the folder. “You mean Liz?”

  Tan didn’t talk much about his work, didn’t talk about his clients, but the night was late, and he’d blown most of his working brain cells already by thinking too hard. He gave in to the need to talk it out. “Yep.”

  “You like her?”

  “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “She works hard—”

  “That’s important.”

  He smiled, because they’d been drilled those few basic lessons into their consciences their whole lives. “It is, and she does, making costumes for other skaters.”

  “Oh.” Andrea relaxed a little as he spoke, talking about Liz’s shop and all the beads and glitter.

  “You’d love it. Maybe I’ll take you over there sometime.”

  The front door slammed open. His mother came in on a flurry of cold air and the sound of her bangles jangling against each other. “Oh,” she set her bag down and rubbed her arms. “It turned cold out there.”

  Her grin lit the room.

  Tan smiled hesitantly and caught Andrea’s look. A familiar grin, which left him wary. It was typically followed by some get-rich-quick scheme. Tan would hold onto his enthusiasm for the moment.