Читать книгу Rules In Defiance - Nichole Severn - Страница 13

He’d made mistakes.

Life didn’t come with a set of instructions, but Elliot probably wouldn’t have followed them anyway. Having her this close, in his home away from home, was a mistake. He’d been trying to save her from a life-ending stampede by Mabel and her calves but instead had gotten the up-close-and-personal Waylynn experience. Even four hours later, with her fast asleep upstairs in his bed, he could still smell her perfume on his clothing, remember the widening of her pupils as he’d looked down at her, feel the smoothness of her skin against the calluses in his palms.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. It wouldn’t happen. Not now. Not ever. And most definitely not with her. Sure, they’d been friends for a while, but friends didn’t expect or ask for commitment. Not in the same way a romantic relationship did. He’d spent the better parts of his life at the mercy of others. Never again.

The sun had leveled with the horizon hours ago, yet light still poured in through the windows. Daylight at midnight. No better time than to plan their next move. His phone chimed with an incoming message. Swiping his thumb across the screen, he read Vincent Kalani’s report. No hard drive recovered from Alexis Jacobs’s apartment. The former cop and Blackhawk Security’s current forensics expert had a relationship with the Anchorage police chief, which had gotten the team out of a lot of sticky situations in the past few months. Brothers in blue or something like that. But the missing hard drive triggered Elliot’s gut instinct.

Someone was framing Waylynn for her assistant’s murder. Either the unsub had broken into Alexis’s apartment and taken the drive before police had a chance to search the place or the redhead had taken steps to make sure it would never be found if her employer came calling.

Only one way to find out.

Threading his arms through his shoulder holster, he glanced up toward the loft where Waylynn slept. No point in waking her now. If he found the hard drive, he’d bring it back here and they’d go through it together. If not, he’d have no reason to break the bad news. She’d been through enough. Elliot turned toward the door but slowed as the hairs on the back of his neck rose on end.

“You, sir, are a terrible bodyguard.” That voice. Hell, that voice could move mountains. He’d recognize it anywhere, had memorized every inflection and tone.

“In my defense, you’re supposed to be asleep and I was going to set the alarm.” He turned toward her. Air locked in his lungs as she came down the narrow set of stairs. Long blond hair shifted over her shoulders, the muscles in her lean, bare legs flexing as she moved. Bright teal toenails reflected the flames crackling in the fireplace a few feet away. “Are you wearing my MIT shirt?”

“As nice of a gesture Officer Ramsey made by lending me her sweats so she could keep my clothes as evidence, I couldn’t sleep in them. Hope you don’t mind. I found it on top of a stack of shirts by the bed.” She tugged on the hem but failed to make a damn bit of difference hiding all that perfect skin. “Although, not sure it matters what I’m wearing. When I close my eyes…” She folded her arms, accentuating the slight curves beneath his shirt, but not even that could distract him from the fear in those mesmerizing blue eyes. “I didn’t know you’d gone to MIT.”

She was avoiding the subject, the thing that kept her from falling asleep. He’d let her. For now. Everyone had their breaking point. And he had a feeling the frame job, the loss of her research—they were just the beginning.

“Mechanical engineering. Didn’t last long.” The dean tended to look down on students getting paid to take exams for their graduating class.

“Mechanical engineer. Con man. Private investigator.” Waylynn stepped off the last step and rested her weight against the kitchen counter. “Which one of you is sneaking out of your own cabin in the middle of the night to follow a lead without me?”

Damn, she was good. “That would be the private investigator.” He scratched at his beard. “You’d mentioned Genism doesn’t allow employees to store their work on foreign devices, but I have a picture of your assistant with a hard drive in the background.” He opened the door partway. “Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?”

“That depends.” She notched her chin parallel with the floor, the small muscles shifting in the firelight. “You’re not suggesting breaking and entering, are you?”

“Give me a little more credit than that.” His phone chimed with an incoming message. Elliot swiped his thumb over the screen a second time, then turned the phone toward her so she could read the message herself. “I have someone on the inside. He’s already at the location. Are you in or are you out, Doc?”

Shadows fluctuated along the right side of her face from the flames, darkening the small mole beside the bridge of her nose. Waylynn rolled her lips between her teeth, unfolding her arms. “In.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” As much as he hated the thought of her covering up all that smooth skin, she couldn’t exactly walk around downtown Anchorage in nothing but his T-shirt and her underwear without drawing unwanted attention. “I mean, I won’t argue—”

“In your dreams, con man.” She turned on her heel and marched straight back up the stairs. A smile curled at the edge of his mouth as he caught sight of the delicate tattoo inked behind her right ear. A small double-helix DNA strand. He’d always attributed it to her work in genetics, but knowing now what he did about her family, about her father, maybe there was more significance in those sequences than he thought.

A few minutes later, Waylynn rounded down the stairs, dressed in Officer Ramsey’s sweats once again, hair pulled back in a long ponytail, and his gut warmed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He cleared his throat to counteract the rush of heat climbing up his neck. Didn’t help. Even in a borrowed, stained pair of sweats, she was the most stunning, addictive woman he’d ever met.

“Ready to go?” She settled that ocean-blue gaze on him and the entire investigation disappeared to the back of his mind.

Wouldn’t happen between them. Not now. Not ever. He’d been imprisoned long enough. First, due to his parents and his upbringing. Second, from actual prison in the middle of the hottest hell on earth and now contracted with Sullivan Bishop and Blackhawk Security. A relationship with the woman waiting for him to answer would commit him for life. Because she deserved nothing less. Elliot swung the door open completely, then withdrew his weapon as he faced the midnight sun as a precaution. “I’d say ladies first, but I’m the one with the gun.”

“Such a gentleman.” Waylynn took position behind him, the wild rush of geraniums still clinging to him after their close call with Mabel the Moose.

He led her toward the SUV, senses at an all-time high. He doubted whoever’d framed her for Alexis Jacobs’s murder had followed them all the way out here, but he wasn’t going to take the risk. Not with her.

Movement registered off to the left, past the tree line, and her long fingers latched on to his nondominant arm. Elliot slowed, trying to hear anything past the hard pounding of his heartbeat behind his ears. Not from the possibility of danger—he’d tear anyone who came close to her apart with his bare hands—but because Waylynn’s touch had rocketed his awareness of her ever higher.

“Are we going to have to outrun a moose again?” Her question wisped against his earlobe.

Iridescent white eyes shifted in the bushes. Most likely a fox. A laugh vibrated through him. His nerves had run a bit too high for his taste. “Come on. I’m sure Mabel and the calves have had enough excitement for one day.”

“They’re not the only ones.” She released her grip on his arm and moved to the passenger-side door.

They took the ride to Alexis Jacobs’s apartment in silence. Tinted, bulletproof windows cast them into darkness and, despite the fact he could see her clearly in the front seat, Elliot felt her all around him. In her scent still imbedded in his clothing, to the memory of her pressed beneath him as Mabel charged. Hell, even the skin beneath his hoodie burned with memories of her touch.

He’d kept his distance, no problem, for the past year, but over the last twenty-four hours, she’d defied the single rule he’d set for himself when it came to wanting her. The only change? She needed him now more than ever and he’d been stupid enough to hide her in his own damn cabin while he hunted the bastard doing this to her. They hit the highway and headed back toward Anchorage, the combination of road and rubber pulling him back into the moment. Get control. Solve the case. Move on with their lives. That was it. They’d go back to the way things were once her apartment was cleared as a crime scene. He’d pay off his debt to Blackhawk Security and move on and she’d probably work the next decade trying to recover her research.