Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “Oh, shit.” Evianna shifts so she’s sitting next to me, close enough for me to feel her warmth seeping into my left side.

  “We fight until there’s nothing left, Evianna. That’s what they drill into us every fucking day until we’re worthy of calling ourselves Special Forces. I speak six languages. I can—could—look at the stars in the middle of the desert and know exactly where I was. We learned to read micro-expressions. Subtle shifts in a person’s tone of voice. In their breathing. Heart rate.” I hold out my hand, and Evianna gives me hers. Pressing my index finger against her pulse point, I almost smile. “You’re a little worried, darlin’.”

  “Tell me the rest.”

  With a subtle snort, I drop her hand. “It ain’t pretty.” Yet, she doesn’t pull away, so I take another sip of coffee and try to swallow the massive lump in my throat. “They took five of us. Hab. Ripper. Gose. Ryker. And me. Hab died the first week. He never saw Hell. But the rest of us… They kept us in a wood and cement block building off and on for a couple of months, moved us around from time to time. Beat the shit out of us, tried to get us to talk. Then, some Taliban asshole—Kahlid—decided we had it too easy.”

  Her breath hitches, and I think she curls her body inward a bit, but I can’t comfort her. Not right now. “Hell Mountain was a system of caves deep under one of the peaks in the Hindu Kush. They’d dug out a dozen cells. Three deep pits—they’d throw us down there and leave us until we were dangerously close to dying from dehydration. And every few days, Kahlid would send for one of us.”

  By the time I tell her about Ripper’s disappearance, the coffee’s gone, and I’m sitting on the floor. “Fifteen months. They had me and Ry for fifteen months. Broke us in every way possible—but we never talked. Never gave up a single secret. Whenever we could, we tapped out short messages to one another on the walls. Came up with an escape plan. And then, they broke my leg. A few days after that, Kahlid took a hot dagger and burned the shit out of my thigh. The infection was killing me. So Ry…he went alone. Killed two of the guards. As payback,” I gesture to my eyes, “drain cleaner, I think. Never saw the bottle.”

  Evianna slides down to the floor next to me, her knees drawn up to her chest. “How’d you get out?”

  “Ry came back for me. Along with six SEALs and a Ranger regiment. And when they got me out, they buried Hell under two tons of rubble.”

  For what feels like an hour, but is probably only a few minutes, we sit in silence. Then Evianna takes my hand and brings my arm over her shoulders. When I don’t pull away, she shifts closer, easing herself onto my lap and wrapping her legs around my waist.

  “What are you—?”

  “Hush.” Her breath ghosts over my cheek, the scent of coffee lingering and mixing with freesia. And then her lips are on mine. Hesitant, she keeps the pressure light, but the feel of her, the way she molds herself to me, and her taste awaken something in me I thought died a long time ago.

  Tangling my fingers in her hair, I pull her closer, drinking her in as I capture her bottom lip, then trace my tongue along the seam until she parts for me. My hand molds to her ass, then I slide my palm all the way up to the nape of her neck. I don’t ever want to let her go, and from her soft, desperate moan, she isn’t interested in stopping either.

  “Call from: Wren. Call from: Wren.”

  Evianna breaks off the kiss, then buries her face against my neck. Her breathing isn’t steady, and her arousal fills the air around us. “You’re not broken, Dax. You’re anything but broken.”

  I wrap my arms around her, my eyes burning as she offers me the only thing I’ve wanted for six long years.

  Understanding.

  13

  Evianna

  Dax’s phone announces a second call from Wren, and he eases me off his lap. “I have to get this.” His rough voice—and the bulge tenting his pajama pants—tell me I wasn’t the only one to feel that kiss down to my toes.

  Following, I ask, “Who’s Wren?”

  “Second Sight’s computer genius. You’ll like her, I think. You speak the same language.” Phone in hand, he tucks an earbud in his ear and taps it. “Wren? Is something wrong?”

  I can’t hear her response, but Dax curses under his breath. “Hold up a second. Evianna’s here with me. I’m going to put you on speaker. VoiceAssist, switch audio playback to speaker. Okay. Go ahead.”

  “Um. Hi. Evianna?” The voice on the other end of the line is soft, a little hesitant.

  “Yes. I can hear you. Hi.”

  “Well, I’ve been searching the traffic cameras around—wait. Are you two somewhere with a computer?”

  “I have mine, yes. I was just about to hook it up to Dax’s wifi.” Well, an hour ago.

  “Dax’s…oh.” The shock in her voice makes my cheeks flush, and Dax shakes his head, almost to himself.

  Shit. Think before you speak, Evianna.

  “What do you need, Wren?” Dax runs a hand through his black hair with a sigh.

  “Can we…uh…video chat? Since Evianna’s there, I can share my screen and show her what I found. She might be able to help me figure out where to go from here.”

  Dax’s shoulders slump, and he presses his lips together for a second before answering. “Fine. Can you give us thirty minutes?”

  “Sure, boss. You connect—or have Evianna connect—when you’re ready.”

  The call clicks off, and I almost reach for Dax’s hand, but stop myself. “You’re upset. I shouldn’t have told her I needed your wifi code. I’m—”

  Before I can apologize, Dax slides his arm around my back and he’s kissing me with such desperate need, I can barely think. He backs me up against the living room wall, caging me with his arms, and I let him take. Everything. Anything he wants, he can have, as long as he keeps kissing me.

  But as my knees threaten to buckle, he breaks off the kiss, his chest heaving and his arousal pressing against my hip. “Stop. Apologizing,” he grits out.

  “Well, if you’re going to do that every time I try…that’s not very good motivation for me, now is it?”

  His brows furrow for a breath, and then he laughs. My God. When he leaves the dour, tortured look behind, he’s magnificent. I see the man he used to be—before the scars around his eyes, the slash across his forehead, his crooked eyebrow. But I also see the man he is now. Older. Wiser. Sadder. And a hell of a kisser.

  “Tell me the plan. Why did we need thirty minutes?” I curl my fingers around his side, trying to keep him close to me as long as possible. If he’s planning sex, he’s got another thing coming. We’re going to need a lot more than thirty minutes.

  “I don’t want Wren to see me…like this.” He holds out his arms, then drops them as he steps back a foot. “I need a shower. A cold one. The wi-fi code is on the counter. I’ll be out in ten minutes, and then the bathroom’s yours.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he strides down the hall and closes the door with a hearty thump. Even through the damage to his eyes, I know what I saw there. Fear. The broken, scared, terrified soldier is back, and I don’t know if he’ll let me in again.

  Dax

  The cold water does little for my hard-on. Unsurprising given how long it’s been. I skip shaving. My hands aren’t completely steady. Not after telling Evianna about Hell. And kissing her. Twice. But if we’re going to be in this apartment together another night—and there’s no way I want her staying anywhere else—there’s one very important thing I need to do.

  Running a comb through my hair, I wonder what the hell she sees in me. I know pity when I hear it. And her voice carries none of it. Running a hand down my pecs, I feel the burns. The scars. As I towel off, my leg aches. Two surgeries, and there’s still an odd depression in my right quadricep from the infection that almost killed me.

  I wish Ford weren’t halfway around the world. I could use a friend right about now. If for nothing else, than to tell me what Evianna looks like. How far out of my league she is.

 
Cracking the door, I listen, hoping I can get into the bedroom and get dressed without her seeing me.

  “Where are we on the authentication loop bug?” Evianna asks. “It’s number 32789. Barry, that was on your plate as priority zero.”

  “Fixed,” the clipped male voice replies. “I checked in the hotfix this morning.”

  “What about the perf mon issues? I still see spikes. Who’s got the bandwidth to take this on?”

  I close the bedroom door quietly and head for my closet. Everything’s arranged in precise order. Jeans, black pants, khakis. White long-sleeved dress shirts, followed by blue and black, then the long-sleeved Henleys. I can discern some colors, but most are a muted blur. So I stick to the basics.

  By the time I pull on my socks and head out to the living room, Evianna’s done with her conference call. “Mind if I shower?” she asks as I drop down onto the bench and pull on my shoes. “Are…you going somewhere?”

  The uncertainty in her tone raises a lump in my throat. “Just down to the corner store, darlin’. This little Mom and Pop joint. They make damn good egg sandwiches, and you need to eat something. You want bacon, ham, or tofu?”

  Standing, I hold out my hand, and when she wraps her arms around me, I press a kiss to the soft skin of her neck. “You’re safe here, Evianna. The building’s secured, and I’ll lock the apartment door. But if you want me to wait, I will.”

  “Bacon,” she says quietly. “And some sort of sparkling water?”

  “Anything you want, darlin’. Anything at all.”

  The walk takes me less than five minutes, but once I duck inside the shop, I freeze. The reality of what I’m about to do hits me square in the chest, and it’s hard to breathe.

  “Dax?” Mrs. McClary asks from the cash register a few feet away. “You okay, son?”

  Great. Why couldn’t it have been her husband manning the store today? “Can I get two bacon and egg sandwiches? And a bottle of sparkling water?”

  “Two? Sure. Anything else?” Mrs. McClary fiddles behind the counter, and bacon starts to sizzle in a pan. “You’re looking a little tired.”

  “I…do need something else. I don’t suppose Ollie’s here, is he?” Running my fingers over the strap on my cane, I hold my breath.

  “No, hon. He’s out picking up this week’s vegetable order.” With a little groan, Mrs. McClary shuffles out from behind the counter, and in the light from the window behind her, I think she might have her hands on her hips. “What do you need?”

  Fuck. I can’t avoid this. And same-day delivery won’t be fast enough. Plus, there’s the whole problem of navigating online shopping. Some websites are compatible with my VoiceAssist software, but others… There’s a reason I pay my housekeeper to keep my fridge stocked.

  “Condoms.”

  “Any particular kind?” Without any fanfare, she heads down one of the aisles, as if I just asked her for a stick of butter or bottle of antacid.

  Hoping I don’t knock anything over with my cane, I follow her footsteps until they stop. “I…don’t know. Shit. This was a mistake.”

  “Dax, hon. You’ve been coming in here for almost five years now. And in all that time, you’ve never ordered two sandwiches. Never looked so…happy either. Though you need more sleep. So, you want plain, ribbed, flavored, studded, multi-color, or these ones that say ‘warming’ on them?”

  Fuck. “Plain.” And for the love of God, don’t ask me any more questions.

  “Got ‘em. That bacon should be about done. Come on now. You want to take my arm?”

  I don’t think I could walk straight if my life depended on it, so I wrap my hand around Mrs. McClary’s elbow and let her lead me back up to the register. Ten minutes later, after she’s toasted muffins with cheese and fried eggs, I head back to my apartment with a box I never thought I’d have to buy again hidden in my jacket pocket.

  14

  Evianna

  When I emerge from the bedroom, Dax has breakfast sandwiches plated on the small dining room table along with more coffee and my sparkling water. He’s staring at his phone, his Bluetooth blinking in his right ear.

  “Hey. Those smell fantastic.”

  “VoiceAssist, cancel,” he murmurs before he pulls the earbud out and tucks it in his pocket. “Eat. You must be hungry. Then we’ll call Wren.”

  Yep. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Terse is back. But, he came with food, so I’ll forgive him—for now. Because as much as I don’t want to be a bother, I’ve subsisted on doughnuts and pizza and sub sandwiches for the past few weeks, and I’m half-starved. Also, horny as hell. But that’s obviously going to have to wait.

  “Do you cook?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

  “A little. Basic stuff.”

  The first bite of the sandwich tastes like heaven, and a little moan escapes before I can stop it. “Oh God. This is fantastic. This is from a grocery store?”

  “More like a neighborhood institution. McClarys’ Stop N’ Shop has been here for thirty years. Same owners. They do takeout containers of lasagna at night.” Dax carefully reaches for his coffee cup, his fingers gliding across the table top before he finds it.

  “Can I ask you something…uh…I don’t know…overly personal?” My cheeks heat, but I want to know everything about this man, and I suspect he won’t just tell me.

  With a sigh, he sits back in his chair. “I piss sitting down. That what you wanted to know?”

  “No!” Though honestly, I probably would have wondered eventually. “Forget it. Despite how fantastic that kiss was, it’s clear you don’t trust me not to hurt you.” Huffing into my coffee, I take a long sip and try to stop my eyes from burning. “We can call Wren whenever you’re ready.”

  Dax pushes to his feet and strides into the kitchen where he braces his hands on the counter and I think I hear him counting. When he reaches ten, he blows out a long breath and turns back to me. “I haven’t spent this much time with one person in years.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? None of your friends ever ask you questions? Like…was it hard to learn to use your cane? Or…I don’t know…why are your eyeglasses tinted? Or here’s one. Have you dated anyone recently? Though the answer to that question is clearly no because you’re spectacularly bad at conversation.”

  “What do you want from me, Evianna?” Dax stalks out of the kitchen and yanks off his glasses. “My glasses are tinted because I get migraines and these help with the light sensitivity. Learning to use the cane was easy. Learning how to navigate without being able to see more than shadows? That was terrifying. Still is. And I don’t really have friends.” Dax’s hands shake as he puts his glasses on again, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. When he rubs the back of his neck, I can see the scars around his wrist as the cuff of his Henley rides up. “As for dating…I haven’t been with anyone in six years. Not since my ex-wife decided she couldn’t handle living with a blind and broken man with severe PTSD.”

  Pushing back from the table, I approach slowly.“Can I touch you?”

  My question must shock him, because he snaps his head up so he’s staring right at me. Or at least, it feels that way. “Why would you want to?”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I start with his biceps, feathering a light touch up his arms to his shoulders. “You really don’t think anyone could possibly care about you.”

  Dax squeezes his eyes shut, the gesture pulling at the burn scars on his lids. “Most people who come into my life…bolt pretty damn quick.”

  “Maybe that’s because you don’t let them in.” I rise up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck, then ghost my lips over his. “And maybe I’m not like most people.”

  “Evianna,” he whispers, “you are definitely not like most people.”

  My breath stutters, and I take a step back. If I push him too far, he’ll shut down, and as much as I wish we could spend all day just…talking, there’s still the small matter of someone trying to kill me. “We need to call Wren. But…you should be careful, Dax.
You’re going to give me the impression you care.”

  Dax has me set up my laptop on the coffee table, and we sit close together on the couch while his phone reads me Wren’s number. As the call connects, I almost smile. She looks just like she sounds. This little slip of a thing, red wavy hair, and a nervous smile. “Hi. Um…boss, you okay? You look…I don’t know. Wiped.”

  “Fine.”

  The single word answer doesn’t leave her any room for follow up, and she frowns. “Well, then, Evianna, I’m glad you’re there,” she says with a tiny huff. “I’m going to share my screen as I fill you in. I hacked into the traffic cameras all around your house for the half an hour after you were attacked, and couldn’t find any evidence of the guy.”

  The small bit of hope burning inside me fades as the split screen shows my house in the dark and her smiling face. Wait. Why’s she smiling?

  “But since we don’t know when he broke in, I couldn’t match up anyone with a before and after. So, I went back to searching for information on Kyle. Those emails you forwarded, Dax, were extremely helpful. The first two were put through a handful of email anonymizers. Like one on top another on top of another. Those might be untraceable. Even for me. But once the emails started turning more…violent? I’d bet the farm someone else sent them.”

  “You don’t have a farm, sweetheart,” a deep, raspy voice says from the background.

  “I could get one. Then bet it. Shut up. I’m working.” Wren grins and throws a pillow off screen. “Sorry about that. Ry’s going a little stir crazy with no jobs to do.”

  With a snort, Dax drapes his arm over the back of the couch. “Unsurprising.”

  I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, Wren gets herself under control and pulls up the first email that actively threatened my life. The little animated graphic of a woman being stabbed with a bloody knife makes me shudder, and Dax sits up a little straighter. “What is it?”