by Paige Hill
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I do what I do.
With my mind elsewhere, I nearly miss my street. Whipping the car to the right, I narrowly miss my neighbor’s trash can before I pull into my own drive.
Sorry Mr. Hastings.
I always feel a sense of pride when I arrive home. I still rent my tiny bungalow, but it suits me perfectly. It’s in a decent neighborhood and I can save some money while I’m here. I have a small savings, that if I’m being honest, the shop is starting to drain. If things go as planned, I will have a down payment in a couple of years.
Monica, my landlord, is a middle-aged divorcee and a fantastic person. She allows me to have free reign in designing my space. The light grey exterior and white posts provide the perfect backdrop for the outdoor furniture I’ve placed on the porch. Bright, cheery pops of color with bold patterns make the porch one of my favorite areas of the house.
The interior, much like the outside, is decorated with shades of grey, white trim and vibrant pops of color.
Tossing my keys onto the hook by the front door, I throw my purse haphazardly onto the hardwood floor in search of food. I hate coming home after dark. There has always been something about darkness that I can’t handle. How ridiculous is that? I’m a grown ass woman who is, for all intents and purposes, afraid of the dark.
Flipping on lights as I go, I grab an open bottle of wine and a bag of SunChips on my way back to the couch. Not the best dinner, but hey, it’s whole grain, right?
I look a bit pathetic grabbing the remote, my bottle in the other hand. I’ve forgone the glass— who wants to wash dishes anyway? Furb, my fluffy Siberian cat, leaps onto my lap demanding attention. He’s overweight, bossy as hell, and well, comes with a litter box, but he’s loyal and somehow knows when I’m upset. He was a gift from Jensen. Someone to keep me company all the nights he spent away. Funny thing is, Furb hated Jensen.
Once Furb’s fluffy ass finds an acceptable position upon this throne, I settle in. Disinterested in anything, I channel surf, but nothing catches my attention. The clock on the wall behind the TV dings as the hour changes and disappointment hits me.
Crap! I’m supposed to be at Taryn’s tonight.
Thinking back to a few days ago, my stomach drops. I was half listening the news in the breakroom at the shop, when something caught my attention. Right there, on the screen before me was Taryn. Or at least it looked like Taryn. Turning up the volume, I gave the TV my full attention, connecting the dots.
“Authorities are still seeking Teagan Langford for questioning in the potential attempted murder of her husband, District Attorney, Mark Langford. Nothing has been confirmed yet, but we have information indicating that the State of Florida plans to charge Mrs. Langford with the crime.”
I didn’t get the feeling that she planned to stick around, so her invite for lunch the other day had come as a huge surprise.
Obviously, she had given me a fake name. I would have too I suppose. However, I’m thankful she trusted me enough to share the truth… Not that I gave her much choice.
It sounded like they made him out to be the victim. They’ve all lost their damn minds, one look at her and it was evident. Money and power can buy you a lot in this world.
Her situation is so much worse than I thought. I have my own problems to sort out, so I should probably stay far away from her, but I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut. The one telling me she needs a friend. And right now, I need a distraction.
I hope no one else recognizes her. In her defense, if she hadn’t opened up to me, and I hadn’t seen her before, I would have never in a million years suspected the two could be the same woman.
Better be careful, Chica.
The anchor woman’s voice snags my attention again, and my heart sinks.
“Authorities in Opa Locka still struggle to contain local gang involvement. In recent months, one local gang known simply as Tri-Locka has elevated its current rise to power with both affiliated members and its heavy association to the Alvarez cartel. Authorities have not shared much information with us here at Miami One, but we are told an investigation is underway. DEA, FBI, and local police have joined forces to take down this violent organization.”
The last thing I need is another reminder of the colossal mistake my brother just made. I’m at a loss as to what I can do. He’s technically a grown man and he found himself at a metaphorical fork in the road. He made a life-altering choice and now the prongs on his fork lead only to prison or death.
Reluctantly giving up my comfy spot, I quickly change clothes, swipe on a quick layer of lipstick, grab my keys and head for the door. Meeting Teagan for cocktails is exactly the remedy I need to get out of my head. She better be prepared to dish about this sexy bartender I’ve heard so much about.
A lowkey evening with a friend, what could go wrong?
Chapter Three
Aiden
“He came for her.”
Declan’s voice growls before he takes off, sprinting to his Jeep.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself.
Shooting the Sergeant an apologetic glance, I race toward my car, parked just a few blocks away. His voice echoes off the surrounding buildings as he curses our names. We are going to pay for this.
Our unit just raided a cargo ship filled with cocaine and, even worse, women. Women who were kidnapped and sold. If we don’t take down this mystery man, Miami will never recover.
I fire up the engine, the throaty rumble amplifying my ferocity. Declan’s Jeep is nowhere in sight. That asshole better hope he’s gone before Declan gets there. But after everything Teagan shared, I hope he’s still there. If there is anything left when Declan is done, I’ll pile up the pieces and watch it burn.
My pulse races as my tires eat the miles between me and Declan’s back. That asshole shouldn’t have left alone. He’s a loose cannon.
Whipping into the drive sideways, my wheels come to a screeching halt. Sliding a fresh clip into my gun, I bolt for the door.
Glass litters the floor, crunching under my boots. But that’s not what catches my attention. High definition, intimate, photos of Teagan and Declan are strewn across the floor like a sadistic art show. My abs tighten, intensifying the burn at my side and I have to fight back bile. Ignoring the warm blood trickling down my hip, I sweep each room carefully. A female voice sounds from the bedroom, but I don’t recognize it.
When I enter the doorway, Declan swings wildly, aiming his gun on me.
“O’Connor, what the fuck man?” I put my hands up in surrender and smirk.
“Sorry man. We need to get them out of this house. They both have glass all over them. It isn’t safe here. He knows where I live. I have to take her somewhere, so we can figure this shit out.”
The same fiery voice spits out muffled curses in Spanish, drawing my attention to the gorgeous woman on the floor beside Teagan. Her creamy caramel colored skin makes my mouth water as I imagine what she would taste like. My eyes roam her curves, down to her feet.
Then I see it. I’m such an asshole.
Scarlet red drips from her soles and the embedded glass reminds me of diamonds. My jaw clenches as I watch Teagan attempt to remove the glass from her feet. She’s tough, but her whispered curses have my chest tightening. I absentmindedly rub it, in hopes of releasing the pressure.
Chastising myself, I snap out of the lust-filled haze.
Offering to carry her into the next room seems to be the wrong move. She glares at me defiantly and hobbles a few feet before I catch her. Huffing, she relents and throws an arm around my neck.
“Thank you.” She whispers through gritted teeth.
Jesus, I need to get laid.
Tired of watching her struggle, I grab her by the hips and plant her perfectly round ass on the kitchen table.
“Que demonios?”
“What?” I ask, my expression just begging her to say something.
She doesn’t answer, the question clearly rhetorical.
Grabbing a dish towel and a bottle of water, I kneel below her as I eye the damage to her feet. Feeling eyes on me, I look over my shoulder and catch Declan watching me intently. Suddenly, this scene feels intimate. And not the fun kind.
Rising to my full height, I snap out of it.
“Let’s just get them out of here and I’ll send someone down to board up the window.”
“Where are you taking Celeste?” Teagan interrupts. “We need to help her, look at her feet!”
“I’m fine. A pair of tweezers, some peroxide, a bottle of wine and I’m all better.”
“I got her.”
“Got who exactly?” Celeste snaps.
This is going to be interesting.
“You can fight all you want but you’re fucking high if you think I’m going to let you leave alone. That wacko knows you are close to Teagan and you can barely walk. You either go willingly or I carry you out of here. Your choice, sweetheart.”
An involuntary smile pulls at my lips as I replay the last hour. Damn that mouth.
What the hell was I thinking? She shouldn’t be my problem. Glancing at the raven-haired beauty beside me, I start to question my self-control. For probably the first time ever. I’m going to chalk this one up to adrenaline and tension running high. What other reason could I possibly have for volunteering to protect her. She’s guaranteed to be nothing but a pain in my ass.
Much to my surprise, the drive to my apartment is silent, save for the hum of the V8 engine. Silence, I have noticed, isn’t her strong suit. My eyes drift her direction once again, but then I realize the reason for the silence.
She’s passed out.
Now that the adrenaline has been drained from her system, her body has nothing to run on but exhaustion and anger. I chuckle, immediately regretting it when the movement lights a fire in my torso. Anger threatens to bust the walls of my chest as I think about that greasy mother fucker that shot me.
Looking down at the wound, I can see blood glistening down my side with the light that filters in from the street lights. I probably need stitches, but I’ll live. The round entered on the very far left of my abdomen.
Looking her direction again, I try to match the information on her file with the woman next to me. Based on the information I collected for O’Connor, she isn’t at all what I expected. Thick black lashes rest against her flushed cheeks. Her white button-down shirt is knotted at the waist, showing a hint of tan skin at her navel. Denim shorts with some kind of vintage floral pattern, hug her curvy hips. The pockets are frayed, and I can tell it’s from actual wear, not that ‘distressed’ shit you buy in a store.
I’m looking at her more than I am the damn road. I need to get a grip on myself. When this is over, I’m drowning myself in bourbon and diving balls deep in some random pussy.
The engine of my ‘69 Camaro vibrates through my chest as I replay the last couple of hours. When Teagan admitted she was a fugitive, I had no idea how deep this shit actually went. I just hope Declan’s prepared for the fall out.
I kill the engine, startling Celeste. Her hand flies to her chest but surprisingly, she doesn’t make a sound.
CELESTE
Don’t ask questions if you’re not prepared for the answer.
So much for my lowkey evening.
Shit went south fast. Turns out, Declan is DEA. Teagan’s husband attacked the house, smashing the large front window. Everything seems to have happened so fast. One minute we’re talking about Declan and watching a movie, the next we’re covered in glass, hiding in a closet.
And now I’m alone with a stranger.
Good idea, genius.
Why did I agree to this? Oh, yeah… A southern accent wrapped up in a sexy as sin package. And his car? The cherry on top of the whipped cream I want to—Shut up brain or I’ll stab you with a Q-Tip.
I saw that on a bumper sticker once and thought it was a pretty good threat.
Stretching out my tense muscles in the confined space, the glass in my feet screams at me. I better be able to rock my new Steve Maddens. Tension fills the cab, before he sighs heavily and opens his door.
“Don’t move.” His tone is clipped.
As he rounds the hood of the car, I begin to open my door. I can’t handle this cramped space any longer. All I want to do is fall face first into a pillow.
“Damn it woman! I told you not to move.”
Irritation floods my already sensitive nervous system.
“You did not just woman me! I am not a dog that snaps to your commands.” Who the hell does he think he is?
“You want to dance on shards of glass all the way into the apartment, be my guest.” He motions toward the door.
Ugh. Why does he have to be right? My stupid pride wins over logic as I swing the door open and place my feet firmly on the ground.
Three.
Two.
One.
Searing pain radiates from my feet, but I choose to ignore it. I try to anyway. Gritting my teeth so hard I think they might crack, I put one foot in front of the other. I’ve made it only a few steps and I’m already breaking a sweat.
“Jesus Christ woman.” He growls, placing one arm across my back and the other under my knees. He lifts me with a hearty grunt.
“Put me down! I’m too heavy!”
“Stop talking.”
“Not until you put me down. You’re going to throw out your back or something and I will not be responsible for that.”
I wiggle, trying to free myself. This is ridiculous. I know he thinks he’s being nice, but I will die of embarrassment if he hurts himself carrying me.
A low growl rumbles from his chest as his arms tighten around me.
“Move again and I assure you, you will regret it.”
His words lock my muscles instantly. I don’t know if I’m scared or turned on. A little of both?
Much to my embarrassment, he carries me with relative ease through the lobby. He nods at the young man behind the security desk as he carries me toward the elevator bank. His breathing seems a bit labored, and if he throws his back out or something equally embarrassing, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face him again.
His apartment is not what I expected. At all. He’s a DEA agent but his apartment doesn’t reflect the typical macho bachelor feel. Everything is modern, clean lines, dark woods, and expensive-looking. He has better taste than Jensen. And Jensen’s place looks like a showroom.
Why am I comparing them?
Silently, he carries me to the bathroom, resting my bare thighs on the chilled stone counter. The black granite sparkles under the low bathroom lighting, giving the room a romantic ambiance.
Or it would have been romantic if I weren’t bleeding and he didn’t have the personality of a cactus.
He shuffles around the lower cabinets, presumably searching for a first aid kit. His movements are stiff and robotic as if my presence here makes him uncomfortable.
“Look, I can tell you don’t want me here anymore than I want to be.”
His gaze shifts from the contents of the cabinet, to my face. Not even his kneeling position detracts from the authority his body exudes. Its unnerving.
He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, raising a hand to illustrate my point. Let’s just make this easier on the both of us.
“I couldn’t care less what Declan wants. I understand his concern and I appreciate the gesture, but I am not his responsibility, nor yours. That wacko doesn’t want me. If you wouldn’t mind helping me clean these cuts, I’ll get out of your hair.”
A look crosses his whiskey colored eyes, but it is one I can’t place. How can one expression look so natural, yet foreign on the same person?
“Woman, I thought we already had this fight. It doesn’t matter what you or I want. The fact of the matter is that there is a sadistic fuck roaming around Miami with his sights set on Teagan. If you think for one minute that he won’t hurt you to get what he wants, you’re fucking naive. She cares about you and the moment she s
tepped into your life, a target was stamped on your back.”
The longer he talks, the more my anger flares.
“I met Teagan at a drugstore a few weeks ago,” I snap. It’s amazing how close we’ve become in such a short amount of time. Who knew holding a random woman up with a banana in a beauty aisle would lead us here?
“Preventing a terrible dye job hardly constitutes justification for hurting me. Wouldn’t it make more sense to threaten someone closer to her?” I cock an eyebrow, challenging him. I’m talking out of my ass at this point, but I can’t back down now. I’m not stupid, I understand how dangerous this could get. But I own a gun and I know how to use it.
“Not if you’re the one who knows where she is.”
Pride is a dangerous emotion. I have nothing to say because frankly, he’s right and I’ve known it all along. Why do I have to be so damn stubborn?
He stands to his full height, tossing a first aid kit onto my lap.
“Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” His eyes pierce mine and I can see mischief dancing in their depths. I stare too long, too mesmerized as the silence stretches between us. This battle of wills becomes too much, and I look away, clearly having lost this little game of stubborn chicken.
My silence is a clear indication of my resignation. My pride can’t take another hit, so I remain silent as Aiden gets to the business at hand.
Gripping the counter, my fingers ache as the knuckles turn white. I breathe heavily through my nose, trying to work through the pain. Instinctually, I want to jerk my feet from his grasp, but I fight it. How in the hell does Teagan have so many tattoos?
“Just relax. The more you tense, the worse this is going to hurt.” He runs his palm gently up my calf, trying to comfort me, but his touch sends a current up my leg that settles in the pit of my stomach. My reaction to him confuses me. He’s an egotistical asshole. I’m just going to blame nature for this one. My nervous system is shot to hell, and my body just wants comfort. Even if it comes from a caveman.