by Jill Sanders
“Are you shot?” she asked, moving closer to him.
“It just scraped me,” he answered and moved his hands away from his neck. His shirt was splattered lightly with blood around his collar and she gasped.
“You are shot.” She rushed to his side, unsure of how to help.
“I’m fine.” He replaced his hand over the area, blocking her view of how bad it was. “Any idea who that was?” he asked quickly.
“Who?” She held her phone’s light up to his neck, trying to get a better look.
“The guy that just shot me after trying to…”—he shrugged— “kidnap or attack you?”
“No.” She frowned. “Maybe it was a mugger. This is a big vacation spot. People come and go. Last month, my car was broken into.” She glanced around. “Do you think he left?”
“Yeah, he’s gone.” Reagan sighed and started to get up, tucking the gun into his pants.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She gasped. “You need a hospital. I’m calling—”
He stopped her by putting a hand on her elbow.
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
“I can drive you…” She stopped when she realized that her car still may not work.
“No. I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” He stood up and glanced around, and she realized how much taller he was than she’d imagined. He’d always been sitting when she’d seen him before. Now he was standing next to her, and she also realized that his shoulders were wide, and his arms were thicker than her thighs. The man was a tank, and her knees went a little weak. He ignored her assessment of his form and asked, “What’s wrong with your car?” He motioned with his head.
She followed his gaze, unable to switch her train of thought that quickly. Focusing her eyes on her dead car, she sighed. “The battery, I think.”
“I’ll take a look.”
She stopped him by yanking on his arm, or tried to anyway, since she couldn’t have budged him at all. “You were just shot.”
“Scratched,” he corrected. “Literally.” He showed her the area. Sure enough, there was a long red scrape mark that ran across his skin just below his left ear. There was still blood dripping from it, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined. “I’m fine.”
“But…” She bit her bottom lip and thought about how close it had been.
“Let’s have a look at your car.” He moved over to her hood and she followed him, her eyes returning to his neck.
“That should be cleaned and bandaged,” she said as he leaned into her car.
“Later.” He blew her concern off as he concentrated on fixing her car.
When he stood up abruptly, he almost bumped into her, since she’d crowded near him to look over his shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked after seeing his frown.
“Your cables were disconnected,” he answered.
“They were disconnected. I was trying to put them back on.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Here, they were disconnected down here as well.” He turned back and aimed his cell phone light at the bottom of the battery. Now she could see it clearly. The cables were unhooked farther down. Even if she had reconnected them above, her car wouldn’t have started.
Feeling defeated, she leaned on the hood. “Now what do I do?”
He stepped back and shut the hood of her car. “Now I drive you home, and you get a mechanic out here in the morning to fix this.”
“You don’t think…” She glanced to the dark corner where the man who had almost jumped her had disappeared. She felt a shiver rush down her back. She wrapped her arms around herself and held on.
“Yeah.” Reagan sighed, interrupting her thoughts. “Yes, I do.”
Chapter 2
The silence inside his truck cab stretched on. He knew Clara was thinking about what had happened.
It had taken some convincing to get her to trust him enough to allow him to drive her to her place. It was less than two miles, but after he’d hinted that whoever had unhooked her cables wouldn’t stop just because he’d thwarted the attack in the parking lot, she’d quickly agreed.
When he pulled into the small condo complex where she rented and shut of the engine, she glanced up at her place on the second floor and blinked a few times. Then she turned towards him.
“You should really clean that.” She motioned to his neck. He’d forgotten about the scratch already. The dried blood caked and pulled at his skin when he turned his head. She was right, he needed to clean himself up. But first, he had to make sure she was safe.
He should have called her family the moment he’d found her and moved on to another job. Now he’d have a full night ahead of him, watching her place to make sure whoever had tried to get to her earlier didn’t try again.
He thought of a way to convince her to let him come inside and was just about to ask when she jumped in.
“Why don’t you come in and let me clean that for you?” She reached for the door handle. “It’s the least I can do for you saving me.”
He didn’t hesitate and rushed around to hold the passenger truck door open for her. She stepped out of the truck and her eyes ran over him slowly, as if she was trying to figure him out. Then they zeroed in on his face.
“You’re bleeding again.” She motioned to his neck. Reaching up, he touched the spot where the bullet had grazed him and winced when his fingers came away wet. “Come on in.” She stepped around him, and he followed her up the dark pathway towards the cement stairwell.
“Nice place,” he said as they climbed the stairs while he scanned the darkness surrounding them. The condos sat directly above businesses in a small shopping area that was filled with tourists and locals during the day. Now, however, it was past midnight and it was abandoned. He made sure whoever had tried to attack her wasn’t hiding in the shadows, ready to spring on them as she unlocked the door.
When she stepped inside her door and flipped on the lights, he followed her in and turned the lock on the door behind him. He knew it wouldn’t keep anyone out if they were determined to get in. They could simply kick the wood door down. Still, the sound of it would give him plenty of warning.
He studied her small one-room condo. It was your normal tourist rental, even down to the pastel furniture and flamingo paintings.
“Rental?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder as she walked towards the bathroom just off the main room. “Fully furnished. I got a good deal on it…” She stopped herself and shook her head. “Let’s just say, come morning, you won’t be able to sleep in.” He realized that directly under her place was the local coffee and bagel shop, which was one of the busiest businesses in the area. She shrugged as she flipped on the bathroom light and started looking through her medicine cabinet. “Why don’t you come in here?” She motioned to him. “We can clean you up.” She held a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a clean cloth.
He tossed off his light jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa, then moved into the small bathroom with her.
Instantly, he felt huge in the small space.
“Wow, I’ve never really thought of this place as small,” she said as she started using the wet cloth to clean up most of the blood. Then her eyes locked on his. “Until you came in.”
He chuckled, then winced when the cloth brushed over the cut.
“Sorry,” she hissed lightly.
“It’s fine.” He watched her as she worked on cleaning him up.
“So, ex-military…” She let her question hang in the air.
“Yes,” he answered after a moment.
“What do you do now?” she asked. He’d known the question was coming and had worked out an answer that was true enough.
“Odd jobs.” He shrugged.
“As in?” She met his gaze.
“This or that,” he answered, but her eyes narrowed. “Contract work.”
“As in construction?” She wet a fresh cloth with the peroxide. “This might sting,” she warned,
then dabbed the cut with the cloth.
He sucked in his breath as she worked cleaning him up, but it didn’t have anything to do with the peroxide.
She smelled so good. How did someone who had just worked ten hours at a bar and restaurant smell like flowers?
He leaned closer to her, just to get a better chance of having her scent cling to him.
“So?” she said after a moment.
His eyebrows rose as he focused on her face again. He’d been watching her lips. They were full and when she concentrated, she bit her bottom lip. Which had him thinking of kissing it, taking it into his own mouth and nibbling on the soft skin. Sucking it until she—
“Reagan?” She shook him. “You’re not in shock, are you?” She was frowning at him.
“No, I’m fine,” he answered. She relaxed slightly and set down the cloth.
“I don’t think a bandage will help. I have these.” She held up small butterfly Band-Aids. “They might stay on until you shave in the morning.” She shrugged.
He took the bandages from her and tucked them into his jean pocket. “If I need them, I’ll use them,” he said, his eyes returning to her lips.
“You never answered me.” She leaned against the countertop.
“No, not construction. Just odd jobs. Whatever my clients need.”
Her frown increased. “That sounds like a…” She bit her lip again, and he found it hard to focus once more. “You aren’t a gigolo, are you?”
He burst out laughing. “No.” She smiled back at him. “No, I’m not a male prostitute.”
She relaxed a little and tilted her head as she looked at him once more. “You’ve got blood all over your shirt.”
His smile was back. “Trying to get me naked?”
She shrugged and gave him a slight smile. “Maybe.”
He moved closer to her, shrinking the space between them. “What is it about you?” he asked just before he set his hands on her hips and nudged her the rest of the way until her chest bumped against his.
“I… haven’t done this in a—”
He stopped her by covering those full lips he’d been thinking about since he’d first laid eyes on her. She tasted even better than she smelled.
Whatever happened now, he knew that this wasn’t going to be the easy missing person’s case he’d hoped for. There was no way Clara Cruz was going to get away from him until he knew her entire story.
What was she doing? Flirting with and kissing a man she didn’t know. A man who very well could have been the one who had unhooked her battery cables.
Then his lips touched hers and her mind stopped working as her body took over completely.
She wasn’t lying. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself any sort of pleasure. It had been over five years since she’d been touched intimately. No kisses, no hand-holding, no sex. She needed to stay focused if she was going to remain a free woman, even if it meant pulling away from the first man she’d desired.
The way he’d looked at her at the restaurant had turned her knees weak and made her insides feel like they were on fire. Two nights ago, when he’d walked into Rico’s Beach Hut, the attraction between them had been instant.
She’d thought herself lucky when he’d returned the following night. But when he’d continued to watch her and sip his beer, she’d felt unnerved. Rico had instantly warned her about the man.
Then again, Rico didn’t like anyone that came sniffing around his family. The man took care of his employees, which was one of the reasons she found herself staying in Paradise Cove longer than any other place she’d lived in the past five years. She felt safe, which was why someone had gotten close enough to her that Reagan had almost been shot.
Maybe he was behind the attack. Maybe he and a buddy had set the whole thing up.
She tensed and jerked away from him. Her eyes locked with his, and her mind sharpened. He’d left the restaurant almost an hour before closing.
“What were you still doing in the parking lot of the Hut?” she asked, her breath coming in deep gushes, much like it always did when she felt she was in danger.
“Waiting for you,” he said easily. “I wanted to…” He sighed. “I wanted to give you a second chance to go out with me.”
She didn’t know why, but the obvious lie made her relax. “Liar.”
“I need a drink,” He glanced into the kitchen. “Got anything strong in there?”
She thought about the bottle of wine she had planned on enjoying while binge-watching the rest of her favorite show.
“Strong? Not really. I do have a bottle of wine.”
“That will do.” He motioned for her to step out of the bathroom, then followed her into her kitchen.
He stood back as she pulled out two plastic glasses and then a bottle of cheap wine from the fridge. It wasn’t much, but she’d learned to enjoy what she could in the past few years.
She felt him watching her and, somehow, her body vibrated with want even more.
She’d never been the kind of person who lived for danger and thrills. She had been the girl who always stayed on the pathway. In school, she’d been an honor student, which had gained her entry into one of the best colleges in California. She’d believed her father when he’d told her that he hadn’t paid her way into Stanford. She’d also played by the rules with boys, always choosing the safe route, the boys from quality families, never the partier types. Even though she’d daydreamed about men like Reagan all of her life, she’d dated the scrawny nerd types.
Her eyes moved to Reagan again. It was no wonder the man was setting off her sex drive. He was her fantasy man come to life: tall, masculine, dangerous, and mysterious. Everything she’d been taught to avoid growing up, yet just what she’d wanted.
That kiss in the bathroom had been more exciting than any sexual experience she’d had before. Hell, all of her fumbled sexual encounters together couldn’t equal the amount of desire she’d felt during that brief kiss with Reagan.
She bit her bottom lip and tried to convince herself that she would be better off shoving him out of her tiny apartment. If there was one thing that she’d learned from the past few years, it was that you opened yourself up too much when you started trusting others.
Instead of making him leave, she turned to him and handed him a plastic glass full of cheap wine.
Chapter 3
Who the hell was she? From what Reagan had learned about her, the woman standing in front of him had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Yet, as he watched her pour the wine into two plastic glasses, she moved and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world to her. As if she was pouring the most expensive champagne into Waterford Crystal flutes instead.
When she handed him his glass, their eyes met, and her eyes narrowed.
“What?” She frowned as she sipped her wine and moved to lean against the counter.
“Why would someone want to attack you?” He set the glass down without taking a drink, her eyes tracking his movement.
“Why does any man want to attack a woman in a dark parking lot,” she answered easily, but he noticed a slight shiver race through her.
He moved closer. “For what it’s worth, I doubt he was there to rape you.”
“Oh?” Her dark eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”
“He…” He swallowed. How could he tell her his thoughts without blowing his cover? “Intuition.”
“Do you have much experience with rapists then?” she said between sips.
“Some,” he answered honestly. “Something tells me he had other intentions.”
“Are you a cop?” she asked, ignoring his reaction, and he saw her tense.
“No.” He sighed and relaxed. “Like I said…”
“You’re a contractor.” She finished her drink, keeping her eyes on him. “Yet you haven’t explained exactly what that means.”
“I… do what I did tonight.” He figured it would be easiest if he was vague. “Protect peop
le.”
She was silent for a moment as her eyes scanned him. “Like a bodyguard?”
He relaxed. “Something like that.”
“So, if it wasn’t rape… what then? Why would someone attack me? I have less than a hundred dollars in my checking account. My tips from tonight were shit…” She trailed off and he could see she was trying to keep her past from him. The worry that her life had caught up with her was obvious.
“You tell me?” He leaned against the countertop and watched her closely.
She bit her bottom lip, and he could tell she was thinking of how to avoid answering the line of questions she had started.
“What about your family?” he asked, steering her.
She shook her head. “No, I have no one who would be looking for me,” she answered quickly, then sucked in a breath when she realized what she’d given away.
“Looking?” he asked. “As in, they don’t know where you are?”
“No.” She turned around and poured some more wine into her glass and looked out the window as she drank. “I’m on my own.” She shrugged. “Have been for a while.”
“Must be lonely,” he said, thinking of his own large family. His mind flashed to his aunts and uncles and his younger sister, Bella, who was starting her second year of college in Arizona.
Even though his parents had been adopted into the same home as brother and sister, they had never thought of themselves as such. On his eighth birthday, almost a full year after they had come together finally as a family, his mother had given birth to his sister.
Mark Grayton, his grandfather, a man Reagan had grown to look up to almost as much as his father, was still as frail looking as the day that he’d met him all those years ago. He still lived in the big house, with his daughter, Julie, a great-aunt who had spoiled Reagan as a child and still called him on a weekly basis.
“It can be.” Something close to pain crossed her face before she turned away.
“You do have family, though, right?” he asked, unsure why he was pressing her.