Rules In Deceit. Nichole Severn

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СКАЧАТЬ The SOB who’d taken a shot at her was most likely licking his wounds and devising another way to kill her. If Braxton had been telling the truth about the shooter’s target. She paused at the thought. She took care of network security for a start-up security company. Wasn’t exactly the kind of job that would land her in a killer’s crosshairs. But if this had anything to do with her work for the NSA…

      No. It couldn’t. She’d left that life behind months ago. Besides, those files were classified. It’d take someone with much higher security clearance than the director of the NSA to access them. That’d been part of the deal. She’d signed dozens of nondisclosure agreements about the program’s trial run, and the federal government would hide Oversight’s existence at all costs.

      “First, I want your forensics guy to analyze those bullets in the windshield.” Braxton leaned against the back quarter panel mere inches from her, arms crossed across that broad chest of his. The weight of his attention pressurized the air in her lungs. He watched her carefully, as though he couldn’t miss a single moment. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with an ID on the unsub trying to kill you, and—”

      “And you go back into hiding.” That was the deal. She’d agreed to his protection, and as soon as they had a viable lead on that shooter, he’d go back to whatever rock he been hiding under for the last four months and let her move on with her life. Alone. Storm clouds shifted overhead as the last remnants of rain pelted against her leather jacket, but the crisp, cleansing atmospheric scent did nothing to clear her head. Unzipping the duffel, she reached in, wrapped her shaking hand around her teammate’s backup weapon, and loaded a fresh magazine. Full.

      “Right,” he said.

      Setting the bag back in the trunk, she faced Braxton with her emotions in check and her guard in place. He might be the father of her unborn baby, but that didn’t mean she had to trust him. Elizabeth lifted her gaze to his. “You think going back to Blackhawk Security to hand over the bullets is a good idea? I seem to remember half of the penthouse floor is missing, and we almost died in the garage.”

      Braxton moved in close, too close, his clean, masculine scent mixing with the aroma of rain. The combination urged her to lean into him, to forget how much she’d missed him. She’d told herself—hell, told him—she’d moved on, but her body had yet to grasp the idea. “I told you I won’t let him touch you. You have my word.”

      “And I told you your word doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.” She fought back a quiver. Tightness ran down her neck and back. After countless hours—months—of trying to find him, here he stood less than a foot away. In the flesh. Tightening her grip around the duffel bag, she scrambled for purchase as the past threatened to drag her under. No. She’d been down this path once before. She’d trusted him, and it cost her everything. “We should ditch the vehicle and get inside. If the shooter is the same person who hijacked Oversight’s feeds, he’ll be able to track us to this area and try to shoot me again.”

      Ten minutes later, they’d abandoned the SUV, sans bullets in the windshield, and hiked back to the apartment on foot. Braxton led her up two flights of stairs and toward an apartment in the back of the third building, his clothing barely concealing the muscle he’d put on since the last time she’d seen him. And not just in his upper body. His legs flexed beneath denim, powerful and strong. Inserting a key in the lock, he turned the doorknob and shouldered the door open. “Wait here a minute.”

      He didn’t wait for her answer as he disappeared inside.

      A breeze shook the trees below, and she stepped to the railing. No shooters waiting in the trees. No bomb ticking off nearby. She smoothed her hand over her lower abdomen as a rush of nausea churned in her stomach. Who would want her dead? And why now?

      “Surveillance is clean.” Braxton filled the door frame just inside her peripheral vision. “The place isn’t much, but it gets the job done. We’ve got power, water, gas, and I had groceries delivered yesterday.”

      She followed him inside, the skin along her collarbones prickling with the onslaught of a draft coming from the vents above. “Hiding your how-to-be-a-good-spy magazines before I came inside?”

      “No, I keep those locked up all the time.” Braxton’s laugh replaced the cold-induced goose pimples along her arms with heat, but she couldn’t afford to give it much notice. Find out who was trying to kill her and why, then move on with her life. That was it.

      He’d been right about the apartment. It wasn’t much, but it’d work for what they needed. Large windows took up most of the east wall, providing a jaw-dropping view of the mountains. A large sectional had been positioned in the corner of the living room, only photos of wildlife and scenic Alaska hanging on the white walls. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms from the looks of it. Simple. Bare. But the setup of surveillance equipment across the dining room table said secure. It suited him. Her, too.

      “You can take the back bedroom if you want to clean up. There’s a bathroom attached to that one, so we don’t have to share.” Braxton maneuvered behind her, and she straightened a bit more. “I’ll have some food for us by the time you’re done.”

      “Good idea. Give me a few minutes.” She checked her wristwatch. Nine at night. They weren’t going to get much done at this hour. The investigation would have to start in the morning. Another rush of nausea gripped her tight, and she fought to breathe through her nose to counter it. Didn’t work. The target of a shooter, reunited with the man she thought she’d never see again, and suffering from morning sickness all at the same time. Great.

      “Take your time.” He headed toward the kitchen, tossing his baseball cap onto the counter. His dark hair skimmed his shoulders, and, hell, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit the look worked for him.

      Elizabeth forced one foot in front of the other. Space. She needed space. Away from him. The lighttan-colored walls passed in a blur as she escaped to the nearest bedroom. She wasn’t sure if this was the room he’d meant for her to take, but at the moment, she didn’t care. Tossing her duffel onto the floor, she exhaled hard and ran a hand through her hair.

      It’d been four months since she’d made the worst mistake of her life by climbing under the sheets with Braxton. That should’ve been long enough to get control of her physical reactions. Damn it. This wasn’t the plan. She’d accepted there would be a bottomless hole in her heart where she’d shove everything she felt for Braxton Levitt in order to raise their daughter on her own. But he’d come back. To protect her. Still, while she might have to stay within physical proximity of him, she wouldn’t let him hurt her again. Keeping her emotional distance would have to do. That, and a securely locked bedroom door. “Just a few days, baby girl. We’ve got this.”

      The bedroom came into focus. Single queen-size bed, nightstand, dresser with some papers settled on top, same type of photography on the walls as she’d noticed in the living room. And a cardboard box full of phones stashed in the corner. She fished out a phone from the middle of pile and studied the room again. Groceries delivered, a box of phones, surveillance setup. How long had Braxton planned on staying here?

      She swiped her thumb across the screen and dialed Vincent Kalani’s number from memory. She’d left her phone with the SUV about a mile west of here. Anyone who tried pinging it for a location would only find disappointment. Blackhawk Security training 101. The other line rang three times. Then four. “Come on, Vincent. Pick up the phone.” Another ring. If he hadn’t made it out of the building alive, she’d never forgive herself for leaving the forensics expert in the middle of a crime scene. “Pick up the damn—”

      “Kalani.” Vincent’s usually smooth voice sounded rough, damaged.

      “You’re СКАЧАТЬ