Shannon rubbed her belly. “Oh, he likes it.”
Lauren laughed again, pretty sure her cheeks were going to hurt if this night continued as it was, something that normally only Julie and a rare girls’ night out, could do for her.
Shannon led them down a hall to a private dining area and circular booth, waving them forward. “Our VIP seat.” Once they were seated, Shannon placed the menus on the table. “Enjoy.”
Lauren reached for her menu, when Shannon’s gaze caught on her wrist. “What a gorgeous watch.”
“Oh,” Lauren said, wondering why she’d worn the darn thing. “Thank you. A gift from my father.” And that recognition of her father she’d just delivered, was probably why he gave her the flashy diamond studded piece of jewelry, she thought. The gift, the many gifts, weren’t about her at all. They were about making himself feel, and look, like he cared, even if his actions said otherwise. A point driven home today quite clearly. She’d left his house obviously upset, claiming to be sick, and he hadn’t even called to check on her.
Royce’s hand slid to her leg under the table, and her gaze met his. Her chest tightened at the understanding in his expression, at the awareness that somehow, she’d let emotion seep into her reply to Shannon in a way she normally would not, and he’d noticed. The sincere concern she saw in his eyes touched her, while the contrast it held to the insincerity of her father’s gift clawed at her.
“Well it’s spectacular,” Shannon said wistfully and glanced at Royce. “Give me one of those as a gift and we’ll talk about me working at Walker Security.”
Royce chuckled. “None of those in my arsenal, but I have a desk and sturdy chair with your name all over them.”
She snorted. “You really don’t know the way to a girl’s gun, I can promise you that.”
A waitress appeared with a bottle of wine. “From John,” the woman said, and set two glasses in front of Royce and Lauren.
“I’ll leave you two to enjoy,” Shannon said and smiled at Lauren. “Nice to meet you, Lauren. Maybe next time we can chat more.”
A few minutes later, Lauren and Royce sipped a rich, sweet red wine, each having ordered a pasta dish. “What was all that about Shannon’s gun and your desk and chair?” Lauren asked.
“The restaurant is really John’s baby. Shannon’s an FBI agent I used to work with, and a damn good one, at that. We’d be lucky to get her for Walker Security. And it would be a safer job for her too, which is why John wants her to leave the agency. I can control what jobs she gets and watch her back. And I can make sure the job doesn’t destroy her family. The Agency won’t do that.”
“Do you ever regret leaving the Agency?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“Not once in two years,” he said, but she didn’t miss the sudden flex of his jaw muscle or the tightness of his voice. “I had some bad stuff go down at the Agency and by the time it passed, I was one foot out the door.” He sighed and tapped his fingers on the table, as if drumming out tension. “Right about the time I was contemplating leaving the agency, Blake lost his fiancée in an undercover ATF mission. He was ready to go vigilante and there’s no good in that. I needed something to distract him, a way to keep him under thumb, and Walker Security was born. Truth be told, I suspect Blake’s walk through hell was the real reason Luke went civilian. Otherwise, I think he would have been a career Navy, like our father was career Army.”
“Did they ever catch the person who killed Blake’s fiancée?”
“No,” he said. “That particular Mexican drug cartel leader is still alive and well, and deep underground, but not ever out of Blake’s mind. If he finds him, he’ll go after him. I never kid myself about that.”
She studied him a moment. “And you and Luke will be there with him.”
He gave a sharp nod. “Making sure he doesn’t end up dead or in a jail cell for taking the guy out.”
Heaviness settled in her chest. “And your father?”
“What a lifetime of combat couldn’t do, cancer did. We buried him three Christmases ago. My mother lives in Jersey and is thrilled to have her boys nearby. She was yet another reason Walker Security made sense.”
“I was a teenager when breast cancer took my mother,” she said, emotion thickening her voice. “Seventeen when my father married Sharon.”
He didn’t say he was sorry or ‘oh how horrible’ like most people and she knew why. He knew it didn’t help; he knew from experience that “I’m sorry’ sometimes managed to open a raw nerve. “And Sharon has been like the Energizer Bunny. She just keeps on staying.”
She smiled. “The evil Energizer Bunny.”
John appeared at the table with a cordless phone in his hand. “There’s a call for Lauren.” Her gaze went to Royce’s, her stomach suddenly rejecting the few bites of bread and the wine she’d just enjoyed. “No one knows I’m here. I didn’t even know where we were going before we got here.”
John arched a brow and covered the receiver. “Muffled voice, and car horns in the background. Sounds like a payphone to me.”
She sighed. “It’s probably a reporter.” She reached for the phone. “They’ll just keep calling if I don’t take it.”
John handed her the receiver and she immediately put it to her ear. “Hello, this is Lauren.”
The sound of a clock ticking echoed through the line for a mere few seconds, before a dial tone replaced it, and Lauren felt a chill race down her spine. Her hand began to tremble with the understanding that these feelings she’d been having of being watched weren’t her imagination, nor were the calls pranks. Which meant someone had watched her tonight, followed her to Eden.
Royce reached for the phone, and Lauren let him take it from her hand, barely aware of him listening to the dial tone or disposing of it, until his hand slid to her face. “Tell me what just happened.”
She wet her lips. “The clo… ” She swallowed the dryness in her throat, her hand going to his wrist. “Ticking clock.”
He studied her several long seconds, then pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re okay. We’ll take care of this. I’ll take care of it.” He leaned back and looked at her, trailing his fingers down her cheek. “Give me a second.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed, then snagged the cordless and looked through the call log.
“I’m at Eden with Lauren,” he said into his cell. “She just got a call we need traced.” He read off the number and then barely a second later, said, “That’s what I thought.” He hung up. “Payphone, but Luke’s headed over there to check it out anyway.” She opened her mouth to protest and he cut her off, “Don’t even think about telling me he doesn’t have to. He wants to and so do I.”
“Is this when you tell me to call the police?” she asked.
“If I did, would you?”
She shook her head. “No. It would end up all over the papers and I can’t deal with that, Royce. Not on top of everything else and not when that might be exactly what this person wants.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” he asked. “You? Or me?”
“I don’t think I have the reasoning skills right now to convince anyone of anything, which makes me wonder if that isn’t the idea. Someone wants to rattle me before the trial.”
“We could make a list of what this person’s motivations might be,” he said. “And of all the things I’d put on that list, you picked the one that makes you feel better, the one that makes you feel like you aren’t in danger.”
“Are you saying you think I am?”
“I’m saying that refusing to accept that you might be is danger in and of itself. You know that. Your job has allowed you to see what people are capable of.”
“You aren’t making me feel better.”
His hand moved down her hair. “I’d rather make you feel safe.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Let’s get out of here.”
***
Half an hour later, Lauren stood at the door of her apartment, Royce by her side. He leaned in and kissed her. �
��Let me check it out before you go in.”
“I’m feeling pretty good about the bodyguard routine right now,” she said. “Feel free.” She pressed her key into his palm and then watched while, instead of entering, he felt around her doorjamb.
She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the wall, knowing all too well that he was looking for some sort of trip wire or surveillance equipment. It was overkill, she told herself, suspicion and caution built into his blood by a lifetime in law enforcement that he was incapable of fighting. But deep down, caution felt right, and that meant something was very wrong.
The minute he opened the door, his gaze dropped, he squatted then stood, having retrieved an envelope. “Does your doorman allow people to just come and go?”
Lauren stepped toward him, reaching for it. She half expected him to resist. “No. You’ve seen how he hovers.” To her dismay, her hands shook, yet again, as she fumbled with the seal and opened the envelope. Inside she found a single sheet of paper that appeared to be a calendar.
“Today’s date is marked off,” Royce observed from over her shoulder. “Any idea what it means?”
She shook her head. “No. Should I be touching it? What about evidence?”
“There won’t be any,” he said, as if he were sure.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she let him take the piece of paper from her hands. The envelope slipped out of her hands onto the ground.
Drawn to Royce’s strength, she studied his profile as he examined the calendar. His jaw was tense, his eyes probing and intense. He bent down and picked up the dropped envelope, inserting the page back inside.
When he spoke, his voice was unaffected. He seemed calm and collected, so very unlike her right now. “I need to check out the rest of the apartment.” He reached out and smoothed a piece of wild hair behind her ear. “Stay put.”
It wasn’t a question, and though taking orders normally wasn't her cup of tea, it suited her just fine if it meant she didn’t have to go inside alone. She nodded and leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. The adrenaline high from her initial scare was wearing off to be replaced with stark fear.
***
Royce waited to pull out his gun until he stepped inside the door. He didn’t want to upset Lauren any further, and right now, things that wouldn’t normally bother her, might. She was just that rattled, and that sensitive.
He searched the apartment, all the while aware of the leaden feeling in his gut. Gathering his thoughts, he stood in the bedroom, giving himself a minute before returning to Lauren’s side. He wasn’t sure what weighed on him more heavily, Lauren’s safety or the fact that he knew she didn’t give trust or control easily, but she was giving it to him. No, no, the thing that weighed the most heavily was knowing he was bound to hide the secret pact with her father until this blew over. Part of him even wondered if he could simply never tell her, but he discarded the idea, knowing all too well that he’d end up captive to her father, and even more so, to guilt. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a loud breath. Then he heard Lauren’s voice. “Royce?”
He holstered his weapon before responding. Walking into the living room, he found her looking nervously around the room. "Woman,” he said, “I thought I told you to wait.”
She bristled. “You took forever. I was worried.”
He smiled, unable to help himself. The idea of her worrying about him wasn’t such a bad one. "You were, huh?”
Her brows knitted together. “Why are you smiling?”
In several long strides, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her close. “Because I’m not used to anyone worrying about me. I’m not leaving you tonight you do know that, right?”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I need to make some phone calls and talk to the doorman though. You do whatever you do at night, and I’ll finish up as soon as possible.”
***
An hour later, Royce sat at Lauren’s kitchen table, and ended a final call with Luke, having confirmed the phone booth was in Time Square, and had been swept for fingerprints. He pushed to his feet, more than eager to join Lauren in the living room where she’d snuggled under a blanket in a red silk robe to watch a True Crime show he’d tried to convince her to change to something else, but she’d refused.
Royce rounded the couch to find her fingers curled under her chin, her eyes shut, her breathing heavy. He smiled. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so good at putting a woman to sleep. But the adrenaline rush from the fear, on top of limited sleep the night before, had clearly worked a number on her. And never before had he found himself just watching someone sleep, so lost in taking in every delicate line and curve of someone’s features. He shook himself and bent down to kiss her, stroking his hand over her fiery hair.
He flipped off the television, kicked off his boots, and slid onto the couch behind her. She sighed and snuggled that perfect round backside of hers to his front, and dug deeper into her pillow. Royce smiled into her hair and made a silent vow. If he was going to be forced to keep a secret from Lauren to keep her safe, then he damn sure was going to make whoever was messing with her feel the pain he was going to.
***
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 cons
idered 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.”
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