As Samantha and the stranger sat in the car outside her building, Darwin struggled to get his anger under control. A difficult feat, considering how furious he had been to see her arrive home in the company of that man.
That man.
He had made such an effort to hurry to her tonight. Racing to put away his telescope, he had left the hotel and driven as fast as he safely could. His blood had been hot and thick in his veins after he’d watched the operator in flight. The excitement had filled him until he’d been able to think of nothing else but sharing the moment with someone. With Samantha.
Even knowing he shouldn’t visit her two nights in a row, for fear he would be noticed, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to watch her move around inside and had been denied that pleasure last night. More, he needed to be there for the moment when, sitting at her desk, she would receive his delayed response, never suspecting its sender was less than fifty yards away.
So, arriving on her street and seeing her car parked outside, but her apartment completely dark again, had been disappointing. Watching her pull up a few minutes ago in an unfamiliar vehicle, driven by an unknown man, pushed him from disappointed to fucking outraged.
Bitch. He had been out doing the world a service, proving the point he had been trying to make to her. And she had been whoring herself to another man.
It took all his willpower to remain in his SUV, two spaces back, and observe through the windows of the truck that separated their vehicles. Especially when what he most wanted was to wait for the interloper to open his door and step outside so he could run him down right in the middle of the goddamn street.
Restraint. Impulsivity was an excuse for the weak minded.
He managed to remain in place, taking no action. Hunched down in his seat, he watched their silhouettes inside the dark sedan. The car’s engine was running and they remained inside where it was warm, the low lighting making them easy to watch.
He idly considered shooting them both in the backs of their heads.
The man for his interference. Samantha for her betrayal. City violence. Drive-by shooting.
He refrained. He had never killed a person in his life. Watched them kill themselves, yes. But he had never pulled a trigger. And there had been a way out for the sheep every single time. Even the boys could have made it if they had kept their heads and worked together to move to the frozen shore. But ending a life with his own hand had never occurred to him.
Funny, then, how much he suddenly wanted to pull the trigger. It said something about how deeply Samantha had invaded him, mind and soul.
No. He was not ready to give up on her yet. “It isn’t a betrayal if she doesn’t know she’s yours.” He kept his voice low. Though no one was close enough to hear, he believed Samantha must be able to sense him. How could she not feel the magnetic pull as strongly as he did? Especially now, when he was so close he could almost reach out and take her?
“I can forgive you,” he told her.
He meant it. It wasn’t entirely her fault. He had been remiss, not acting sooner. A woman as beautiful as Samantha would, of course, draw male attention. He’d assumed her unhappiness over her divorce would keep her locked up at home, licking her wounds, until he was ready to come for her. That was a mistake Darwin intended to rectify very soon.
Not yet. Do nothing for now. Just observe. Wise idea, and he followed his own instincts, wondering, as the minutes ticked by, why the pair had not gone up to Samantha’s apartment.
He began to feel hopeful. Perhaps this was not a romantic date. The driver could be a casual acquaintance giving her a lift home.
Then the two of them turned and looked at each other. The exchange was thick with expectation; they stared at each other with raw intensity. He knew the moment to be a critical one when Samantha lifted her hand, appearing poised to reach for the stranger, to draw him close enough to kiss her lush mouth.
Darwin nearly vomited. Unwilling to witness such a thing, he furiously pounded his hand on the steering wheel, hitting, by accident, the horn.
Her hand dropped. The moment had ended.
Good thing for them. His remarkable self-control might not have lasted if he was actually forced to witness the only woman he had ever wanted in the arms of another man. He could possibly withstand knowing it was happening, but he could not be expected to watch.
So drive away.
He reached into the glove compartment instead. Retrieving his silencer-equipped Beretta nine-millimeter handgun, he dropped it on his lap. Just in case.
Leaning forward, over the steering wheel, he craned to see more of the stranger’s car, desperately wanting a glimpse of the license tag. But from here, blocked by the truck, he couldn’t see any lower than the lid of the trunk.
Suddenly, the passenger door ahead of him opened. He sank farther, watching as Samantha stepped out, her beautiful profile washed with illumination from the streetlight.
The driver’s door remained closed. Tsking, he whispered, “Not a gentleman, are you? Not seeing a lady to the door. Who knows what dangers might be lurking in the night?”
A good thing he was here to see to Samantha’s well-being.
Darwin ’s spirits-lifted by the thought that his Sam had not invited the driver in-were dashed when the other door opened as well. Watching in dismay, he saw the tall stranger exit and join her on the sidewalk. The man was young, good-looking.
Darwin lifted the gun. Flicked off the safety.
Instead of curling an arm around her slim waist, leading her up the stairs to a night of carnal pleasure, however, the driver bent into the backseat of the car. When he stood, he held a large cardboard box. It appeared hefty; he had to shift it around to ensure a good grip before turning to follow Samantha to her apartment.
“What are you up to?”
There were any number of possibilities. Perhaps this was merely a friend, helping Samantha with a heavy purchase.
At midnight? Doubtful.
A lover, then, bringing sexual devices, toys with which to play, pornographic images to share in her soft bed?
His bile rose again. Holding his breath, Darwin watched as the two of them reached her floor, releasing it with an angry hiss when she beckoned her visitor inside her home, closing the door behind him. Shutting him, and the rest of the world, out.
“One. Two. Three,” he whispered.
In one minute, he would drive away. Staying here, knowing another would be spending the night in Samantha’s arms, was too much for even him.
“Four. Five. Six.”
He fingered the trigger of his Beretta. Maybe he would drive away. Maybe he wouldn’t.
“Seven. Eight. Nine.”
The tension dragged out with every second. By the time he reached forty, one hand was clenched around the grip of the gun. The other clung to the steering wheel. Which way he would go when he said the word sixty, he honestly couldn’t say. It was as undetermined as the random flip of a coin.
At fifty-five, the apartment door opened. His rival stepped out, no longer holding the box. Samantha remained within. They exchanged a few words. No kiss good night. No warm smile. No intimacy. Then the man walked toward the stairs, and Samantha shut the door.
Good girl.
The tension that had pushed him nearly to his breaking point began to ease; his breath returned; his heart took up its regular beat.
Calm, yes. Relieved, too. But he didn’t relax. Nor did his anger dissipate.
Nothing sexual could have happened in the brief time they were inside, and they had not kissed good night. But there had been that moment, that expectant moment in the car when they had almost instinctively leaned toward each other before the sound of his car horn had pushed them apart.
Not lovers… but not long until they will be.
Revolted by the thought, he put the gun down long enough to turn the key in the ignition, then immediately picked it up again. The Beretta heavy and warm in one hand, he flicked a button with the other, sending the passenger-side window on a quick, soundless descent.
The stranger had reached the well-lit stairs, which faced the street, and began to walk down them. He didn’t look back, or even ahead, instead focused on something in his own hand.
Fool not to watch where you’re going.
Slowly pulling out, he let the vehicle drift forward noiselessly, watching every move the stranger made. By the time Darwin pulled his SUV even with the long cement walkway leading to the stairs, his rival was halfway down. One pull of the trigger away. One tiny little pull.
A flip of the coin.
Yes?
No. Samantha might react badly to having someone she knew murdered on her doorstep. She could retreat out of sight, making it impossible to find her again.
He could do nothing.
Frustrated, thwarted, Darwin pushed the button to lift the window, keeping only the lightest pressure on the gas pedal. His headlights off, he was nearly invisible as he rolled quietly through the night, out of range, leaving his prey unaware of how close to death he had come.
“Damn it! Who is he?”
The speculation would drive him mad. He wasn’t accustomed to Samantha varying her routine like this. First last night, her apartment showing no sign of life at two a.m. Now this.
Maybe she wasn’t home at all last night. Perhaps, like tonight, she had been with him, the rival.
Darwin mulled over the idea, suddenly realizing what else about last night had bothered him: her night-light. It hadn’t been on. Not when he had arrived, not when he’d left shortly after two. Every other time he had visited, it had cast soft illumination through her bedroom window.
So. She hadn’t been home at all. She was seeing someone.
He forced himself not to be disappointed in her. It wasn’t her fault. She was vulnerable, lonely. She had been ripe for the picking, and that bastard in the dark sedan had obviously picked.
There was only one thing to do: Find out who the other man was and eliminate him.
How careless he had been to let his impulsive anger drive him away in such a hurry. He might have been able to see the tag as he pulled up to the car. Though he considered going back, he quickly discounted the idea. Not only was it risky to enter the neighborhood again; he was also several blocks away. The interloper was long gone by now.
All was not lost, though. There was another option. He had other resources to find out what Samantha was up to, another way to peer into the darkest recesses of her private life.
And he intended to use it.
As soon as Alec had said he was leaving, Sam had gotten out of the car. His decision was made; no way would she make things uncomfortable by getting pissy or whiny about it. But, as he’d gruffly informed her, he wasn’t going to let her carry her CPU up by herself. So she’d been forced to wait there while he hoisted the large box and lugged it up the outside steps, trying not to feel embarrassed at having been shot down.
Leading the way, she’d tugged off one of his gloves so she could retrieve her keys from the bowels of her purse and unlock the door. “Just leave it on the desk,” she said once they were inside. “I know you’re ready to go. I can take it from here.”
With a curt nod, he did as she asked, then turned to go. The man obviously intended to ignore what had happened between them. He seemed anxious to get out before the pathetic, horny, cheated-on ex-wife leaped on him or something.
Don’t be stupid. He was playing this smart. A lot smarter than her.
She had somehow managed a cordial tone as she handed him his gloves. “Don’t forget these. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
As he took the bunched leather, his fingers touched hers ever so lightly. She managed to maintain an impassive expression, despite the way her fingertips sizzled in reaction to that brief, innocent brush of skin on skin.
“You’re welcome,” he said in a low growl, waiting for her to let go.
She forced herself to. And then, with a simple good night, he was gone.
The moment she closed the door behind him, Sam heaved a disappointed sigh. She stood there for a long moment, trying to go back three days in her mind, to before her world had turned so upside down. Wondering how things could feel so off-kilter in such a brief amount of time. She felt like a different person, as if the real Samantha Dalton was finally showing her face again after her long, self-imposed period of penance and isolation.
Penance for being stupid enough to get involved with someone who she knew would inevitably hurt her. Isolation to try to prevent it from happening again.
So why on earth was she getting hung up on a man who had been shot by a woman less than six months ago and now refused to talk about it?
“You’re crazy,” she told herself. “And you’re lucky he left.”
The words might have emerged from her mouth, but they didn’t sink into her mind or her heart. Because when a knock sounded on the front door a few seconds later, she yanked it open without a single hesitation, not knowing why he had come back, just glad of it.
The first thing she noticed: Alec wasn’t frowning. In fact, if she had to name it, she’d call his expression rueful.
“Is something wrong?”
He stepped inside, closing the door against the cold. Looking down at his own hand, Alec made a small sound that could have been either groan or laugh-or both; then a smile widened the sexy mouth. “Uh, Sam?”
“Yes?”
He lifted the bundle of leather she’d given him a couple of minutes before, holding the glove by a finger. Glove. Singular. “Black hole of death strikes again, huh?”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” A quick, frantic glance confirmed the mate was lying on the floor nearby.
Grabbing it and handing it to him, she noted a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes. The brooding, angry man from the car was gone, as was the frustrated FBI agent, at least for the moment. Here was the flirtatious charmer she’d glimpsed a time or two since they’d met. The one who took her breath away.
“No wonder you have a dozen odd gloves. You steal ’em one at a time, huh?”
The change of mood had been so quick and unexpected, Sam could do nothing but laugh in response. Alec hadn’t exactly returned for a passionate kiss or a promise that they were going to do something about this thing they were both feeling. But he was smiling. Which, in her book, was a pretty good second choice. “It wasn’t intentional, I promise.”
“It’s okay. I never wear them and could have lived without them.”
She tilted her head, eyeing him curiously. “So why did you come back?”
He didn’t reply at first, merely staring at her. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes, as if he honestly didn’t know what to do-something she doubted was a frequent occurrence for this competent man. Finally, when she had half decided he was just going to turn around and walk back out without another word, he admitted, “Because I didn’t want to leave you here to build this up in your head even more than you already have.”
“Oh, you’re a mind reader now?”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “It wasn’t too hard.”
“Are you profiling me?”
“Any guy who’s ever wanted a woman would know what you’re thinking, Sam.”
She tried to stay huffy, but melted a little instead at his admission that he wanted her.
“You wear a shield that says, ‘Back off.’ When you finally dropped it in the car, you didn’t deserve to think I hadn’t even noticed.”
“I knew you noticed,” she shot back. “I just figured you were too chickenshit to do anything about it.”
His quick bark of laughter told her the insult had rolled right off. Lifting a hand to her face, he smoothed back a strand of her hair, rubbing it lightly between his fingers. “So you knew exactly what I was thinking, huh?”
She swallowed hard, fighting not to curl her cheek into his palm. “Yep.”
“Okay.” He dropped his hand again. “But in case there’s any last doubt, let me clear it up. The answer is yes. I did want to haul you onto my lap and kiss the taste out of your mouth.”
The strength drained from her legs, and she leaned against the back of a chair. She’d been wanting some physical connection; now she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew. Then again, choking on someone who excited her as much as Alec didn’t seem like such a bad way to go.
Someone else’s weak, breathy vocal cords asked, “Why didn’t you?”
“Because this whole thing has been a little crazy. Fast. Unexpected.” He shrugged in resignation. “What can I say? I was trying to be a nice guy.”
She waited, wondering if there was more to that sentence.
Now do you not want to be a nice guy?
The words didn’t come. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened again. “I just thought you should know that. It’s not lack of interest; it’s lack of ability to focus on much of anything except the job right now.”
“I get that,” she murmured, meaning it. “Thank you for coming back and telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer promises or make plans for what might happen later, when things were a little less crazy. Instead, he just stood there by the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, visibly torn about how to proceed.
Sam took the decision out of his hands. “I don’t have any scotch. And I don’t own a video game system.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion.
“But if you can stand tequila, I do play a pretty good hand of Texas Hold ’Em. No strings. No making things any more crazy. I just thought, if you want to blow off some steam, and extend our less-than-three-day relationship by an hour, you’re more than welcome.”
Relationship. A strange word to describe what was going on between the two of them. But she couldn’t take it back, and she couldn’t regret saying it.
He didn’t step forward. Nor did he turn away. Instead, he did something much more unexpected. “It wasn’t what you were thinking.”
“What?”
“The shooting. I didn’t have an affair with a witness, or do anything inappropriate with her.”
Embarrassed that he had so correctly guessed where her suspicious mind had gone, she put a hand up, palm out. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
He ignored her. “We were chasing a man suspected of kidnapping and multiple homicides. I’d gotten friendly with his mother, felt sorry for her, you know?”
Feeling like the world’s biggest witch for what she’d thought of him, she mumbled, “Alec, really…”
“I let my guard down. When we got too close and she knew we were going to nail him, she pulled out a semiautomatic and started firing. I took two in the chest, one in the shoulder. Another agent took one straight through the heart. I came home afterward. He never did.”
Oh, God.
He continued, not hesitating to allow her to express any sympathy she knew he didn’t want. “I’m not telling you this for the tequila, because one shot would put me out for the night and I have a long drive home. I just wanted you to know.” A hint of promise darkened his eyes. “For next time.”
Next time. Meaning he believed there would be a next time. Or, in their case, a first time.
Someday.
“I understand,” she replied softly. “Thank you for confiding in me.”
The trust he had expressed in her, and the knowledge that they had taken a step forward, moving closer to what she thought could be something special, made her want to return the favor. Her fingers curled tightly into fists by her side, she admitted something very few people knew. “I was the one holding the golf club.”
His brow furrowed in confusion.
“I beat up my own laptop.”
“Oh.” Alec didn’t make some flip comment like, Should I be scared? as if knowing what it had cost her to make the admission. And realizing how far she must have been driven.
“My husband’s wasn’t working right…”
“You don’t have to get into this,” he said, echoing what she’d told him.
He hadn’t taken the easy way out. Neither would she. “So he borrowed mine to take on a business trip.”
He shook his head in disgust, obviously knowing where the story was headed. It wasn’t an uncommon one. “Internet porn?”
“Not exactly.”
“Online sex?”
“Yeah. But only as a substitution for the real sex they were having at home.”
“Bastard.”
“His girlfriend didn’t want him to feel too lonely, so she sent lots of pictures. Some of her, some of him, some of them together. All of which I found when I got the laptop back.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking as though he wanted to tug her close, but not doing it. As if he knew she needed to get it all out now, if only so they would never have to talk about it again.
“Can’t say I wasn’t a little shocked.” She managed a dry chuckle, surprised she didn’t have to force the laugh. Maybe she really had healed if she could actually find amusement in this for the first time since the night it had happened. “I guess he was lucky not to be there. The computer took the brunt of my seven-iron wrath.”
He wasn’t fooled by the attempt at humor. Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, “What a fucking moron. First for doing it, then…”
“For not deleting the evidence?” she asked, certain he had thought of it as a law officer, but hadn’t wanted to say so for fear of sounding insensitive.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, he deleted it. He just forgot to empty the recycle bin.”
“Repeat: fucking moron.”
Yes, he had been. Because while she hadn’t been perfect, she had tried hard to be a good wife and to make her marriage work. Right up until the moment she got slapped in the face with the kind of close-up pictures of another woman no heterosexual female would ever want to see.
“He was rich and spoiled and used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. One day he wanted me. The next he wanted her. It was pretty open-and-shut in his mind.”
“Too bad the son of a bitch did it on your computer. Whacking the hell out of his would have been much more satisfying.”
“Probably. But the claims he made during the divorce were bad enough. Painting me as a vindictive, low-class psycho who destroyed his belongings would have made things worse.”
This time, he didn’t hold back. Alec stepped closer, put his hands on her shoulders, and drew her to him. Sam resisted for half a second, by habit now, rather than mistrust. Then she relaxed into him, amazed at the feel of physical connection she’d told herself she didn’t miss.
He was hard and strong, the rugged planes of his body such a contrast to the soft curves of hers. Yet they fit together perfectly. With her cheek pressed into the angle between his shoulder and neck, and every inch of her pressed against the rest of him, a sigh couldn’t have fit between them.
Alec didn’t take things any further, and she didn’t ask him to. His hands remained above the waist; their mouths did not connect. She simply took what he was offering, enjoyed it while it lasted. Then, with a nod of silent gratitude, she stepped away, giving them both the space she suspected they needed to keep their heads on straight.
“I appreciate your telling me,” he said as they eyed each other.
“I appreciate your listening.”
“I guess we’re both carrying a lot of baggage.”
“I guess.” Wanting to make things clear before they went any further-if they were going any further-she said, “I might be ready to put that baggage down finally. But that doesn’t mean I want to pick a new set up right away.”
He got it immediately. “I’m not exactly ready to go on a long trip anytime soon myself.” He probably had as much reason as she did to avoid romantic entanglements, because of both his physical scars and the breakup he’d mentioned earlier tonight.
“No long trips,” she murmured, “meaning an overnight one here or there might be okay?”
He didn’t laugh, because she hadn’t been flirting. Though couched in innuendo, her meaning had been straightforward, and they both knew what she was saying. “Yeah, Sam. I think it might.”
She let out a slow, easy breath, wondering why she wasn’t dizzy with nervousness. She had just blatantly propositioned the sexiest man she’d ever met, asked him to have a short-term fling with her, and he had accepted. But her emotions were in control, her mood relaxed. They could have been talking about getting a bite to eat rather than having the one-night stand they had both just admitted they wanted.
Maybe the lack of tension was because she had known this was coming from soon after she’d met him. And because desperately wanting someone as emotionally unavailable as she was seemed safe. They would have no entanglements, no expectations, no emotions that could leave her crushed and devoid of any feeling at all, the way she’d been just one year ago.
An affair with Alec would be a perfect way to finish the healing process and begin to move on. To become whole and complete again, a fully realized woman, in an intensely pleasurable way.
“But not now. We’ve got to get through this case first,” he said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. Crossing his arms as if to prevent himself from reaching for her, he added, “You’re a potential witness, and that has to be my focus until we catch this guy.”
“I get it.”
She did. Just the knowledge that they were going to share something intimate and sexual was enough for now.
That didn’t mean she was ready for him to leave. Though she saw the fatigue in his face, she wanted him to stay. She wasn’t desperate and physically hungry like she’d been in the car. This was softer, gentler. She just wanted to spend some time with the man.
About to ask him if he still wanted a hand of poker, with coffee instead of alcohol, she remained quiet when a ringing sound came from his pocket. Alec flinched, equally as surprised someone would be calling on his cell at this time of night.
He quickly grabbed it, checking the caller ID. Opening it, he snapped, “Wyatt? Has something happened?” He immediately fell quiet, listening. Seeing his body tense, she knew something had, indeed, happened. “When, tonight? Do we know which cell tower? Any way to pinpoint it further?”
More silence, except for the low, muted rumble of his boss’s voice through the receiver. She could make out no words. Whatever Agent Blackstone was saying, however, had Alec alert and on edge. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there early. If you need me before that, just call.” Then he cut the connection.
“Everything okay?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. He said nothing more, obviously not able to talk about it. She had been part of things today, personally drawn into the situation by the very suspect they were chasing. She had no further claim in it, however. So she had no right questioning him.
“I really need to go. I’ve got a long drive and an early morning.”
“I understand.” She opened the door, stepping out of his way to let him go. “Thanks again for coming back up to clear the air.”
“You’re welcome. Good night, Sam.”
She fully expected him to walk right out, since he’d set the boundaries between them until the case was over. Instead, he did something far more surprising. Without warning, he slid his hands into her hair, tugging her close. With a low groan of surrender, as if he simply couldn’t help himself, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her hard, fast, and deep. His mouth was hot and demanding, his hunger for her so obvious her whole body went weak.
He let her go abruptly. Sam sagged back against the doorframe, stunned, excited, anticipatory.
All of those feelings doubled when he spoke again, his voice almost shaking. “As soon as this case is over.”
The man wanted her desperately. How amazing.
He left without another word. Though it was freezing cold, Sam walked outside onto the landing, watching him go again, feeling much different than she had the first time. His pace quick, he jogged down the steps. He looked up only once, after he was behind the wheel. With a quick flash of that sexy smile, he started the car and took off.
Once he was gone, she quickly went back inside. She had been standing out there under the bright security lights, fully visible from the dark street below. It had been a disconcerting feeling: almost like being exposed, as if anyone could have been watching her from the shadows.
She laughed at her own vivid imagination and shrugged off the odd thought. After all, it was late; every window around here was darkened, not a soul out in this bitter weather. And she wasn’t exactly the most exciting personality in Baltimore.
Who would possibly want to watch her?