***
Dirt Diver sat with his booted feet kicked up on the wooden surface of a cookie-cutter hotel desktop, a smile on his lips. The monitor in front of him displayed an image of Royce Walker acting like a watchdog to Lauren Reynolds, camped out by her couch as she slept. He snorted. Royce Walker and the Walker brothers. Like they could stop him from getting to her. Like anyone could stop him from getting to her. He liked that the brothers were bad asses by most people’s standards, his included. He liked it a lot. That meant Lauren would feel protected, safe, secure. That meant that when he reached inside her world and sliced it to bloody hell, she’d feel as gutted as she’d made him feel. As she’d made so many people before him feel. That meant she would know just how lethal he was, just how ready he was, just how good he was. The bitch would know his name before this was over. Oh yeah, she’d know his name and she’d know why he’d come for her. No one, not even Royce Walker and his piece of shit brothers, were going to protect her.
Chapter Eight
Lauren woke to the phone ringing. Blinking, she eased up on her elbow, realizing she was still on the couch and the light streaming through her blinds said it was already Sunday morning. She glanced down to find the blanket from her bed on top of her. Any pleasure at knowing Royce had done something so thoughtful, so intimate, faded with the incessant ringing demanding her attention.
Behind her, she heard the phone lift, her home phone, and reality hit her. It was her caller again, her...stalker. She hated that word but that’s what this was starting to feel like. She sat up straight, her breath lodged in her throat. The next few seconds felt like eternity, as she waited to see what would happen, but there was only silence, until Royce hung up the receiver. Almost instantly, as if he’d already had someone on the line, he spoke into his cell phone, or so she assumed, “Yeah I know,” he said in a low voice. “Too short to trace. And yeah, whoever it is has to know I’m here since they knew she was with me last night. And yeah, I know what that means.” He ended the call without a goodbye. She sensed rather than heard him heading in her direction.
Lauren’s fingers curled into the blanket as she waited for him to join her. “I woke you up,” he said, rounding the couch to sit down next to her. “Sorry about that.”
“I heard the phone ring,” she said, turning to him, aware of him as a man despite her distress, aware of how their legs melded together, of his smell, spicy and male, both arousing and comforting. “And I heard you say that whoever the caller was knows that you’re here and ‘yeah you know what that means’. What does that mean?”
“I should have stepped into the hall,” he said. “You didn’t need to hear that.
“Yes, I did. I don’t want to be coddled, Royce. I want to know what I’m dealing with.”
He considered her a moment, and then nodded. “Fair enough. No coddling.” He reached up and brushed hair from her eyes. “The call was a taunt that was, in my professional opinion, and Luke’s as well, meant to tell us that whoever this is believes that he, or she, is untouchable. But you know from your job, as well as I know, that they all think that they’re different than the other guys. That they really aren’t untouchable. You know that.”
“You really don’t think this is just someone trying to scare me, do you?” she asked, knowing she’d pressed him about this before, but unable to stop herself from doing so again.
“You can ask me that same question framed every which way you can think of and it’s always going to be the same,” he said. “I think it’s better to be safe than sorry. And you have experience and good instincts or you wouldn’t be good at your job. No matter what I say, you know what you feel. Don’t ignore a gut feeling. I learned that the hard way a very long time ago. So I’ll ask you now and probably again, what do you feel?”
“I don’t rattle easily, and I wouldn’t have slept if you hadn’t stayed with me. That’s not me. I see a lot of nastiness and I’ve learned to compartmentalize it outside my job.”
“You have to,” he said. “Believe me, I know. And I’m here.” He slid his hand under her hair, around her neck, “And not just because of these threats. I’m here because I want to be.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, and a shiver of pure need slid down her spine.
“I’m glad you are,” she whispered, unsure what was happening to her, between them. She’d never felt so consumed by a man’s presence, so completely drawn to him.
He ran his hand down her hair. “I might have woken you up but I do have morning gifts.”
She laughed. “Morning gifts? Hmmm. Please tell me its toothpaste because I shouldn’t have just kissed you.”
“Better,” he assured her. “I called the corner deli and they delivered donuts.”
“You had donuts delivered and I didn’t hear the door but I heard the phone? Now I’m questioning my survival instincts.”
“I was smart enough to step in the hallway to make the call and then have the doorman text me when he was bringing them up. I wanted to ask him a few questions anyway, so I made it worth his while. Cash and donuts buys a lot of information. A little trick an ex-cop taught me.”
She laughed, liking that he shared those insider jokes with her, but somehow didn’t seem a part of the insiders at all.
He pushed to his feet. “Stay put and I’ll bring them to you.”
Lauren smiled as he headed to the kitchen, and wondered if he even realized when he gave orders. Somehow, she didn’t think so, and was odd considering what she knew of herself and her dislike for bossy people, she found it endearing rather than irritating. And this wasn’t an order she intended to follow. She threw off the blanket and rushed toward the bedroom and her bathroom.
Not five minutes later, Lauren had brushed her teeth and hair, and washed her face, before returning to find Royce sitting on the couch with donuts and coffee for them both laid out on the coffee table.
“A girl could get used to a big brawny man attending to her caffeine needs every morning,” she said, joining him and sitting down beside him again. She reached for the coffee mug and inhaled. “The only thing better than caffeine in the morning is sugar.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “And you just happen to live down the road from one of the best donut makers in the city.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, opening the bag and pulling out one of a chocolate glazed variety, to take a bite. “Hmmm. Okay. Pretty darn good.”
He leaned in and kissed her, licking his lip afterwards. “You had icing on your mouth.”
Lauren felt her cheeks heat, and pretty much, her entire body, too.
“I’m staying the rest of the weekend.”
“What?” She asked in surprise at the announcement and then immediately set her donut on a napkin he’d placed on the table and shook her head in rejection. “You don’t have to play bodyguard, Royce. The building is secure.”
“And yet you wouldn’t have slept if I hadn’t been here last night. I’m staying with you or you’re staying with me. I’d rather stay here so I can evaluate what is going on with these threats in your environment and whether they are likely to continue. But,” he pulled her close, his lips lingering above hers, “I’d welcome the opportunity to have you in my bed.”
“Royce,” she said, trying to think past the warmth spreading through her body. “You’re impossibly-”
“Bossy. Yes. I know. But I’m going to fight you on this one and I’m not going to apologize. I told you to listen to your gut. And my gut tells me to keep you close.”
“I don’t want you to babysit me, Royce.”
“Apparently I’ve not been clear. You interest me, Lauren Reynolds, like no other woman has in a very long time. I want an excuse to stay with you. Now, I just need to hear you say you want me to stay.”
She did want him to stay but he confused her, sent her mixed messages. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t sleep? Were you that wor
ried about these calls?”
“I dozed off leaning against the couch at some point,” he said, dodging the question.
She studied him a long moment, reading between the lines of his many mixed messages. He was worried and he wasn’t someone to worry without cause. He thought she was in trouble and no matter what his motivation, his duty, or his interest in her, it mattered to her that he was here for her.
She brushed her hand over her cheek. ”You can’t stay with me if you’re not going to sleep. You have to be exhausted.”
“I’m not promising either of us are going to get any sleep.”
Heat and nerves collided inside her at those words. She wanted Royce, and yet, she was way over her head with him, inexperienced and vulnerable, two things she didn’t like to feel. She was too drawn to this man and it scared her.
“How about we go to my place so I can shower and change and pick up some things?” he asked, continuing. “Then, we can hunker down here and watch a movie, or I can beat you at tic tac toe. I don’t care what. Anything that will get your mind off this mess.”
“I have work I need to do,” she said, “but...yes. Okay. I think it might do me some good to escape a bit.”
“Perfect. So let’s eat this bag of donuts and you can do whatever women do in the morning to get ready, and we’ll take off.” He released her and reached for the bag and they turned on the news and chatted. But any relaxation Lauren felt ended quickly as a media clip of her and Royce, rushing from the hotel, flashed on the screen. Then another of the crowd gasping as something was thrown all over them.
Lauren was glad she’d just finished off her donut. She was no longer hungry. “He wants attention,” she said, without looking at Royce. “He got it.”
“He?”
She glanced at him. “Gut feeling.”
“Ah,” he said. “Well. It’s all over the news. Why not file that police report?”
“Someone throwing alcohol at us is in the news,” she said. “My phone calls are not. And you and I both know the police will do less than what you’re doing and someone will blab. This kind of thing feeds copycats. I don’t need to invite that kind of attention to me, or anyone in a similar position on a tough case.”
“Are you confident this is about the case?”
She inhaled and let it out. “I don’t know. I have ticking clocks and one day marked off a calendar. How do I know what that means? Logic says it’s this case, though. That’s all I can go on.”
“Do you have your files on your computer? Can you go through them and make a list of the most likely suspects?”
“Royce, you were FBI. Is there even one of the perps you took down that would send you a Christmas card?”
“No,” he said. “But I know the ones that were the most vicious and the most likely to lash out. We need to start there.”
“I have my files.”
“Then when we get back here, we’ll go through them. We’ll get this behind you. I promise.”
Lauren wasn’t one to lean on other people, but in that moment, she was secretly far more thankful for that promise than she was willing to admit to anyone, even him. And not because she didn’t appreciate his efforts. Because she knew that if she let him know just how rattled she was, if she admitted it to him, she’d have to admit it to herself. The way she compartmentalized the bad stuff that came with her job didn’t work that way. There was an order to the way she dealt with things. She had to maintain control. Not Royce.
***
Several hours later, Lauren shivered as she stepped off the elevator and into the corridor outside her apartment. “Well, we didn’t beat the rain,” she said, shivering from the cold droplets that lingered on her black jeans and red t-shirt, as well as her hair. “I hope the sandwiches we walked two blocks for are worth getting wet over. I’ve never tried this place.”
She scooped her keys from her purse. Royce’s cell phone rang and he dropped his overnight bag on the ground, and Lauren took the bag of food from him so he could answer it.
He held his phone and punched the ‘answer’ button as his gaze dropped to the bottom of the door. He answered the call with, “I’ll call you back,” then ended the connection and stuck his phone back onto his belt.
Lauren’s gaze settled on the envelope on the ground and she knew that had to be what he was reacting to, and she was downright chilled to the bone now. “We’ve only been gone a few hours. There have to be security cameras.”
“There are and they showed no evidence of anyone but us at your door in the past few days. Let me have your keys.”
Lauren set the bag on the floor and handed them to him. He took them and checked the door over before opening it and grabbing the envelope. “Stay here.”
“Right,” she said stiffly. “I’ve got the drill down. You go. I wait.”
He tilted her chin up with his finger. “I’ll make this go away, Lauren. I promise.”
“Keep saying that,” she encouraged, confessing more than she should, more than she told herself just hours before that she would, but unable to stop herself. “It helps to hear it.”
***
After Royce searched the apartment, he found Lauren in the hallway and gave her the ‘all clear’ to come inside. Standing at the kitchen table, he showed her the calendar sheet he’d already pulled from the envelope with an additional day marked off. This time there was a message made from cutout letters.
Lauren frowned, reading it. “The countdown continues.” She shook her head. “There’s no ending date for me to have any idea where this is headed. It’s making me crazy.”
“When you see that paper and hear the ticking clock, what’s the first thing, or things, that comes to your mind?”
“This case. It’s a death penalty case. Well, there is this other...” She pursed her lips. “No. Never mind.”
“What?” he asked. “Say it. It’s better to look at all options than not.”
She leaned one hand on the table. “I hesitate to bring this up because I was second chair, but my first death penalty case, a guy named Sheridan, goes to execution soon.”
“When?”
“Ironically, two weeks after this new trial begins but it’s been stayed several times. It could easily be again.”
“Who was the first chair?”
“He’s dead, natural causes.”
Royce stiffened at that news. “You’re sure it was natural?”
“Not only did the man practically inhale his weight in grease every day, the phrase ‘smoke like a chimney’ was created in his honor. He had a heart attack. It’s a reach, but it’s what came to my mind on several occasions, so there it is.”
Royce grabbed his phone and punched in Luke’s number, before giving his brother the Sheridan execution and case to research. He asked Lauren a couple of questions for Luke and then ended the call.
“I hate that your brothers are being bothered with this,” Lauren said, her hands on the back of one of the chairs. “I hate you’re being bothered with this. I know you have work of your own to deal with.”
“They don’t question what I need any more than I question what they need. We have each other’s backs.” He pulled her against him, her hips to his, his arms around her waist. “And I have yours.”
Her hand settled on his chest and he doubted she knew just how much her touch scorched him, how much she affected him without even trying. “You barely know me,” she argued.
“But I want to, which means keeping you safe so I get the chance.” She shivered and he ran his hands down her arms. “Why don’t I start a fire before we eat? I noticed you have wood.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I think I’ll go throw on some dry clothes.” She started to turn and paused. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.” She hesitated. “Just...I do.” She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
Royce knew she meant to make it a quick kiss and then escape, but sh
e was tiny and soft in his arms and felt more perfect than anyone had in a very long time. It tormented him to know he was deceiving her but he shoved aside the reality he’d eventually have to face and wrapped his fingers around her neck, holding her to him. His tongue pressed into hers, stealing one sweet taste before he murmured, “Hurry back. I’m hungry.” And if she wasn’t clear that he wasn’t talking about sandwiches, she would be soon.
Chapter Nine
Royce watched Lauren disappear into her bedroom, thinking about the senator’s insistence that she would dismiss a threat, and put herself in harm’s way. Sure, he saw her caution about overreacting, but he couldn’t blame her in the role she was in with the DA. Most importantly thought, she wasn’t under-reacting either or pretending nothing was wrong. The senator clearly knew something he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want Lauren to know.
Royce headed to the front door and unzipped his bag and replaced his wet Yankees t-shirt with a dry white one on his way to the door. He had Luke on the line the instant he was in the hallway. “Senators can’t give stays of execution,” Royce said. “I get that, but-”
“They can influence them,” Luke finished for him. “I’m already on it. I’m trying to find any connection between the senator and the Sheridan case, be it past or present, or both.”
“You mean I’m trying,” came Blake’s voice in the background. “And I’m already on it. Apparently, you’re taking all the credit.”
Luke grimaced at Blake’s comment and continued speaking to Royce. “I’ve recruited help. While Blake works the Sheridan angle, I’m working on anything and everything the senator has touched in the past year. Are you going to tell him about the phone calls and the calendars Lauren is getting?”
“Not yet,” Royce said. “Let’s see what we come up with first.”
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