Pulled Under: a standalone Walker Security novel

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Actually, I do. I have a knack for reading people.”

  “Be careful,” she warns. “Sometimes you think you have a knack and then you’re proven wrong.”

  “Are you saying you’ll prove me wrong?”

  “I’m saying there are things about me you might not like.”

  “Try me.”

  “No. I’m not going to do that.”

  “Not yet,” I say. “But you’re right. You did just meet me. For now, I’ll take a leap of faith and take my chances on you. Maybe then you’ll take your chances on me.” I lift our hands and kiss hers. “I have a few more of those practical gifts for you.”

  I stand up and walk across the room to grab the bags I left there and set them on the bed. “The locks are really fancy,” she says, noticing my work.

  “They’re top of the line for a reason,” I say. “But a bad guy good at being bad can get past them, which is why we have back-up. Before we get to those things, though, I put the keys to the locks on the kitchen counter, and no, I did not keep one for myself. Because I installed the lock does not give me a right to a key. Only you can do that.”

  She studies me for several beats. “I appreciate that.”

  “Whoever the asshole is that made you think you had to thank me for that needs an ass whooping. I’ll be happy to deliver it. Just say the word.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “It’s easier than you think. You’ll find that out when you decide to trust me.” I move on before she withdraws and pull out a new canister of mace. “This is real pepper spray.”

  “And it’s better than the tear gas?”

  “Yes. People like me who’ve been exposed to tear gas can become immune. Some people simply have a natural partial immunity. And if the person is drunk or high, it might not affect them at all.”

  “I had no idea. So, it’s basically worthless.”

  “Not worthless, but not your best option. With a pepper spray, immunity is not going to happen. I’ve known a few guys who can survive it better than others, but they still feel it. But—”

  “There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”

  “Most of the time. The problem with all these sprays is that you can spray yourself instead of the enemy or with the enemy.”

  She laughs. “You’re such a soldier with the enemy talk.”

  “That I am,” I say, motioning her to her feet and to the small open area near the front door. “You need to know how to handle any weapon you choose or it can be turned around and used on you.”

  “The mace is pretty simple. Just aim and spray.”

  I grab an empty canister and hand it to her, sticking the good one on the kitchen counter. “That’s a fake you can practice with now and later. Let’s see how easy it really is because I wasn’t trying to attack you when you sprayed me.” I charge her and press her against the wall, her soft body against every really fucking hard part of mine. “You didn’t spray me, sweetheart.”

  “You surprised me.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  “Spray me now,” I say. “Before I kiss you.”

  She holds up the bottle and sprays the empty canister. Air puffs in her face. “You would have just sprayed yourself.”

  “That was unfair.”

  “Criminals aren’t fair.”

  “Right,” she looks down. “You’re right. They absolutely are not.”

  Her reaction tells a story. She’s not just running from a man. She’s running from a dangerous man. I release her. “Let’s cover some basics.”

  “Make sure I point it at them, not me.”

  “Let’s talk about how to do that.” I grab the filled canister. “I put a raised arrow sticker on the button.” I show it to her and let her run her finger over it. “Can you tell which way to shoot from that?”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s perfect.”

  “Good.” I set it back down. “If you’re really being attacked, your adrenaline will be high, and mistakes happen. If you fire wrong, you’re the one on the ground and incapable of stopping an attack. Where do you keep it?”

  “In my purse.”

  “If someone grabs your purse, you’d never get to it. If it’s in your purse, the seconds it takes to find it could be one second too many.”

  “I can’t just walk around with it in my hand.”

  “In this neighborhood, you need it in your pocket,” I say, “with your hand on it.”

  “It was the cheapest place I could find.”

  “I’m not judging you, Sierra,” I say. “I’m just stating facts. Once you spray, run. That gets you out of the fumes and away from the enemy. Don’t stop and look at them like you did me. And one final thing and it’s important. If you spray into the wind, it could blow back at you, and never hit your attacker. That makes you the one on the ground and at the bad guy’s mercy.”

  “That really happens?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It does.”

  “So I’m supposed to spray fast and run, but only if the wind is just right? That’s impossible.”

  “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “No. I do not.”

  “I’m going to teach you. I’ll take you to the shooting range tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?” she asks.

  “I have Walker Security privileges.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m going to give you the tools to feel a little less fear. Practice with the mace.” I don’t warn her, I go at her again, and she puffs air in my face. “Good,” I say, “but you didn’t run.”

  “I can’t in this place.”

  “Get away from the spray.”

  She nods. “Thank you. I really appreciate all of this.”

  “We’re not done.” I grab the computer off the desk and motion her to the bed, where we sit side by side, the MacBook on my lap.

  “See the camera icon?”

  “Yes. I see it.”

  “Click on it and you have two views. The exterior of the building and your front door.”

  “Oh my God. That’s incredible. How did you do that?”

  “I hacked a nearby camera for the front of the building and I installed a camera by your door and I put it in an obvious place. That way anyone who approaches knows they’re being monitored.”

  “Thank you so much, but how do I see it? On my phone?”

  “You keep the computer. And as a plus, it has Netflix. We’ll have something to watch when you invite me to hang out.”

  “I can’t keep the computer, Asher. That’s not happening.”

  “It’s my back-up. I never use it.”

  “No, Asher, I—”

  “Be smart. Take the resources I’ve given you.” I stand up and pull her to her feet. “Let me take you out to a nice dinner. I know a place where we can have a few drinks and then get a table.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Drink? Eat?”

  “Whatever this is. Date you or—”

  “You don’t want to date me?”

  “It’s not about you. You know that. I just don’t date.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t date.”

  “Are you sick or something?” I ask.

  “No. I’m not sick or something. Are you?”

  “Aside from the fact I was poked and prodded in the Navy, and tested up and down, I’ll tell you what us SEALs say: If you love it and want to keep it, cover it up. I have a lot of love for the particular part of my body we’re discussing.”

  She laughs. “The things you say.”

  “I am who I am.”

  “And who is that, Asher?”

  “Find out. Go to dinner with me.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then we won’t date. We’ll hang out as friends.”

  “That kiss was…”

  “Damn good.”

  “You can’t kiss me again.”
<
br />   “You sure as hell can kiss me anytime you want.”

  “Friends don’t kiss,” she says.

  “Friends with benefits do.”

  “Friends. No benefits.”

  “Okay. Just friends Nothing wrong with being friends first.”

  “Not first,” she says. “Forever.”

  Yeah, no, I think, but what I say is, “How about that dinner?”

  “I can’t afford that dinner and you’ve spent too much money on me already.”

  “All right. Let’s go find a decent pizza joint.”

  “I’ve been living on two-dollar slices of pizza. I want a salad. One of those places in nicer neighborhoods where they have all kinds of add-ins and you can pick. Do you know a good place?”

  “I know every place in this city. Grab your purse.”

  “I don’t have my purse. Apparently, Luke took my clothes too, by the way. I really need to try to get my boots and purse cleaned. How can I get them back from him?”

  “I’ll make sure you get them back and cleaned at a place that handles our toxic chemicals.”

  “How many toxic chemicals do you deal with?”

  “Walker is a national company. They handle about half the airport security across the country and private jobs all over the world.”

  “And you’re bartending?”

  “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Repeating it won’t change my answer,” I say, giving a spin to what she told me about her apartment.

  She laughs. “I deserved that.”

  “Yes, you did. We’ll find the things we can talk about and work up to the rest.” I step to her, cup her face and kiss her forehead before looking down at her. “I want to kiss you.”

  “You just did.”

  “That wasn’t a kiss.” I slide my hand under her hair, around her neck. “One more for the road.”

  “No,” she whispers.

  “But you taste like honey and sunshine. I really need to taste that again.”

  “I taste like no.”

  “You taste like yes. You just keep saying no.”

  “Every man wants what they can’t have.”

  “Now I know why you don’t date.”

  “And why is that?” she asks.

  I lower my mouth a breath from hers. “You picked the wrong men.” I release her and step back and her lashes lower, her neck bobbing with a deep swallow.

  I’m right. There is another man. And I’d bet my left arm that he threatened her and anyone she cares about. Maybe anyone who helped her escape. I’m going to meet this man. I’m going to hurt this man. And then I’m going to celebrate by kissing Sierra all the fucking time. As often as she’ll let me.

  The minute we’re on the street, my Spidey senses go off. Someone is watching us. I don’t know who they are, or where they are, but they’re here. Sierra feels it, too. Nerves are jumping off her but then, maybe she walks around like that. She’s running. She’s hiding. “I don’t seem to know what to do with my hands without my purse,” she says when we stop at a light on the way to the subway. “That’s silly, right?”

  I grab her hand and place it on my arm. “Why don’t you leave it right here,” I say. “If you don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” she says, apparently just as eager as I am to tell whoever is watching that she’s not alone.

  The light turns and we start walking and that sense of being watched intensifies. I grab her hand. “Come on.” I take off running, and in her jeans and tennis shoes, she’s pretty darn agile, which gives me incentive to keep moving. We turn a corner, and she never questions why I’m hurrying. Another corner and we are rushing down the subway stairs and it’s not long before we dart into a train just before it closes, both laughing with the success and exertion.

  “That felt good,” she says as we sit down on two open side-by-side seats, our legs aligned. “I used to run all of the time.”

  “Used to?” I ask, taking the liberty to press my hand to her knee.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Used to.”

  “Weather permitting, I run in Battery Park in the mornings. You want to go with me tomorrow? We can go to the shooting range afterward.”

  “Yes,” she says. “I’d like that, though I doubt seriously I can keep up with a SEAL—or ex-SEAL.”

  “You’ll do just fine.”

  An elderly woman walks in our direction and we both push to our feet and move to a pole, standing face-to-face. “You’re a gentleman,” she observes, while my mind goes back to that sense of being followed I no longer feel.

  “SEAL’s honor,” I say, leaning forward and pressing my cheek to hers. “Honor is the only reason I haven’t kissed you about ten times over.” I cup her face. “Because no is no with me, but I want you every second that I’m with you.”

  She shivers, and I know she’s affected. I want her to be affected. I damn sure am. The car stops and an announcement is made for our stop. “That’s us,” I say, pulling back, and when her eyes meet mine, fuck, the connection punches me in the chest and I’ve never had any woman do that to me.

  I take her hand and we exit the car, hurrying forward and up the stairs. Once we’re topside, we’re not only clear, we’re only a few blocks from my apartment and the Walker offices. My spidey senses are calm and she breathes out, relief evident in the softening of her shoulders. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “I got you, sweetheart,” I say, and when she settles her hand on my back, I smile again. She makes me smile, and the funny thing about that. I like it. I might even kill to keep it.

  A few minutes later, we’re in a little joint where you stand behind a glass and tell the person making your salad which of about thirty toppings you want. I watch as Sierra lights the fuck up over avocado and egg and I know she wasn’t exaggerating about living off pizza slices. We get to the register and I’m not about to let her pay. I pull out my black Am Ex and hand it to the person behind the register. “For both of us,” I tell the clerk and when I expect Sierra to object she doesn’t.

  She walks the fuck away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I sign the slip and grab the bag of food and take off after Sierra.

  I’m shaken. I don’t want to be shaken. I don’t want to distrust Asher, but that black Am Ex not only gives me flashbacks of The Beast flaunting his, it makes me question Asher in what I hope is an illogical way. It is illogical. Asher has given me no reason to distrust him, which is why I walk down the stairs toward the lower level seating, not out the door. I just need a moment to think. I need a moment to breathe and assure myself that I’m not being the fool I was with The Beast. But I oddly breathe better with Asher. Before him, alone felt safer, better. I feel a connection to this man and I need to slow down. I probably need to pull away. But I don’t want to. I want to kiss him. I want it to be okay that I kiss him.

  I reach the last step and bring a dozen white tables with attached chairs into view and no other guests. I walk to a back table and rotate as Asher comes down the stairs, and he’s so damn good looking, and sweet, and funny. He makes me laugh and sigh, and it’s not logical that I’d still be alive if he was hired by Devin. The Beast. I need to call him by his name because he deserves to be named the bastard that he is. The bastard that would ensure I was dead right now if Asher worked for him. I just can’t risk being a fool. I need to ask Asher questions. I need to hear his answers. And so, I wait for him, ready to scream, fight, and run. I’ve been there, done that back in Texas when one of Devin’s goons came after me, but I want to stay with Asher like I’ve never wanted to stay with anyone in my life.

  Asher stops in front of me and sets the bag of food on the table. “Talk to me, Sierra.”

  “Bartenders don’t have black Am Ex cards.”

  “I told you. I work for Walker Security. Our clients pay and pay well.”

  “So the bartending job is a cover for a Walker job?”

  “Yes. And I’m not saying mor
e than that because I can’t have you nervous at the bar. It could get us both killed.”

  I’m always nervous, I think. It’s my life now. “Were you hired to follow me? To get to know me? To kiss me?”

  He steps closer, and I don’t even think about backing away. He shackles my hip, walking me into him and I have zero instinct to run, zero desire to run. “Sweetheart,” he says, as my hands settle on the hard wall of his chest. “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Because we want to kiss each other. Because this thing between us works far fucking better than anything I’ve ever known, and I want more. And to be clear: No. I do not work for whoever you’re running from, but if you tell me who the fuck he is, I promise you that you won’t have to run anymore.”

  My fingers curl over his shirt. “It’s not that simple.”

  “I can make it that simple. Trust me.”

  “I need time,” I say, wishing he could make this simple. Wishing Devin wasn’t so damn powerful. “We just met.”

  “That’s not a no. I’ll take that.”

  “It’s not a yes.”

  “Google Walker. We’re well-known. We’re well-respected. We don’t play games with people in the way you accuse me of playing with you.”

  “You don’t need to convince me I can trust you. I don’t really think you’re setting me up. It’s just been a long road for me and I needed to look into your eyes and hear you say it.”

  “I think you need to come to the Walker offices and meet the team. See how powerful the operation is. How far we reach.”

  If they reach far, Devin knows someone they know. Devin could use them to get to me, and then destroy Asher, if not them. “You trust them completely,” I say.

  “Yes. I do.”

  And that’s the problem. That’s the reason I can’t tell him everything. Not yet. Not until he’ll hear me fully about that reach. So maybe not ever. “I was overreacting, Asher.”

  “Let me help you, Sierra.”

  “You are helping me just by being you. We’re friends, right?”

  “Yes. We’re friends.”

  And before I let us be more, I have to tell him everything. But I can’t do that if it means destroying him. “And friends buy friends salads, right?” I ask.

  His lips hint at a smile and he motions to the table. “You want to eat?”