In Her Sights (Away From Keyboard Book 2) Read online

  With a nod, he hurries back to his squad car, and as I shut the door and catch sight of my dinner, still untouched on the counter, I know I won’t be eating tonight.

  Why do hospitals always smell the same? Doesn’t matter if it’s the ER, the cancer ward, or the ICU. The scent lingers. Gets under your skin. Inside you.

  At the ICU entrance, I press my palms against the counter. “Hi. I’m here to see Sonia Nolan.”

  “Are you family?” the nurse asks in a bored tone.

  “N-no. Just her friend. Inara Ruzgani. She…doesn’t have anyone in town except her mother. She was driving my car when she…” My voice cracks and I lean forward. “Can you at least tell me…is she going to be okay? Please.”

  The nurse softens. “Oh, she’s been asking for you. Hang on, love. Let me make sure she’s awake.” She hands the desk off to another, dour-faced woman and heads through a set of double doors that open and shut with a whoosh. As I wait, I stare at my phone screen—at the multiple messages from Royce waiting for me.

  Are you okay?

  Inara, what’s going on?

  Call me, baby. I’m worried.

  As I debate how to answer, the phone vibrates once more.

  I’m coming over.

  Fuck. With my fingers shaking, I fumble through a reply.

  I’m okay. Friend of mine is in the hospital. Just found out an hour ago. Waiting to see her now. Stay home. Relax. I’ll call you when I’m done here.

  Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I hold my breath as the smiling nurse pushes through the doors again. “Come with me, dear.” She guides me to a desk, where I have my ID scanned and I get a sticker that lets me through the security doors.

  Nurse Carol, I learn, has been working at Harborview for twenty years. Maybe that’s why she broke the rules for me. As she shows me to Sonia’s bed, I have to stifle my gasp.

  Her left arm’s encased in plaster, her head bandaged, one eye swollen shut. Dozens of cuts mar her pale cheeks, along with the burns from the airbag.

  “Inara,” Sonia whispers with tears in her eyes. “I lost my phone. I couldn’t call you.”

  She looks so frail in that narrow bed, surrounded by white, her skin mottled with purple and blue, pain etched on her delicate features. “The police found my registration.”

  “Oh…God. I’m…so sorry.”

  “Shhh.” I lay my fingers over hers, wincing as she whimpers. “I don’t care about the car. It’s insured. I care about you.”

  “He came out of…nowhere. Never even saw him. Can you…my mom. I can’t tell my mom…”

  “I’ll take care of it, honey. I promise.”

  Four hours later, after calling Sonia’s brother in California, hiring a live-in nurse for her mom for the next two weeks, and reassuring both of them that I’d be there whenever they needed me, I sink down into one of the hard, plastic chairs just inside the hospital front doors while I wait for the Lyft and text Royce.

  I hate hospitals. Headed home. Need to crash. Or hit something. Or both. I’m okay. But can I call you in the morning instead?

  He doesn’t respond right away, and I check the time. Shit. It’s well after eleven. He’s probably asleep. I didn’t expect every phone call to turn into four others. Sonia could only stay awake for ten minutes at a time, and between waiting for her to answer questions about her insurance company, her mom’s care, and her brother…. Dammit. I should have called Royce earlier.

  My phone buzzes to let me know the Lyft driver is here, and I trudge through the hospital doors. Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my gaze, and I freeze with my hand on the car door handle.

  The hooded man disappearing around the side of the hospital has a pronounced limp, but the set of his shoulders, his frame, and the messy brown hair peeking out from the black hoodie stir something in my memories.

  You’re seeing things. Just another hospital visitor heading for the back parking lot. At night. Who was standing still until you exited the building.

  “I’ll be just a minute,” I hiss at the driver before jogging after the man. As I round the corner, I see only a handful of lonely cars bathed in the harsh circles of the bright lights.

  I’m exhausted. From the mission and from holding myself together in front of Sonia. Seeing things that aren’t there. The Lyft driver honks, and I rush back, apologizing as I sink into the leather seat. “Sorry. It’s been a long fucking day.”

  He only grunts as he peels out, and I’m too tired to care.

  When the driver pulls up to my little house, I gape. Leaning against my front door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his winter coat, Royce offers me a sheepish grin as I hurry towards him.

  “What are you doing here?” I wrap my arms around his waist, letting the scent of him calm me in ways I didn’t know how much I needed until this moment.

  “I couldn’t wait until t-tomorrow to make sure you were okay.” His deep voice rumbles against my cheek, and a part of me wants to rail against being handled, but the rest of me doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

  I stifle my shuddering breath as I dig out my keys. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just a couple of minutes.”

  Pulling back to meet his gaze, relief washes over me as I see the truth in his eyes. I’d hate to think he came over earlier because I didn’t answer his texts and just…waited.

  Once we’re inside, he takes control, asking me where the bedroom is, steering me down the hall, and pointing me towards my closet. “Get into something warm,” he says with a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I’ll make you—what? Tea? A hot t-toddy? Warm milk?”

  “There’s a tin of chai in the cabinet next to the stove.” The stresses of the past two days have tears threatening, even though I’m about as far from a crier as anyone you’ll ever meet. I need to sleep. For a week. If only that were possible.

  “Chai it is.” Another kiss, this one a slow, lingering press of his lips to mine, and I clutch his arms, unwilling to let him go.

  “In a minute.”

  He rests his chin on top of my head, silently sharing his strength with me, and my heartbeat calms, my breathing steadies, and my fingers finally warm. This…I’ve never found this understanding with anyone before. Maybe it’s the military in both of us. Or…something more. But Royce knows what I need. Whenever I need it.

  Pulling away, I force a smile. “I’m okay. Really.”

  “I know. But that doesssn’t mean you can’t be better.” He takes one step back, then another, his fingers trailing over mine until only the tips touch before he turns and strides from the room, a little uneven, but still one hundred percent in control.

  When I emerge, bundled up in my army sweatshirt and a pair of gray fleece pants, I find Royce setting two mugs on my coffee table and holding the blanket I keep on the back of my couch. Wrapping me up, he toes off his shoes and sinks down with me, letting me settle against him.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  His flinch is barely noticeable. Hell, if I wasn’t pressed up against him like my life depended on our closeness, I wouldn’t have sensed a thing. But I know my answer hurt him.

  The rich chai warms me, though not as much as being in his arms. “That came out wrong.” Tipping my head back, I try to read him, but he’s closed himself off. I reach up to cup his cheek, a day’s worth of stubble tickling my palm. “Sonia borrowed my car. It was a hit and run. Another driver sent her across Highway 99 and into oncoming traffic. She’ll be okay, but…I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  “Was there something wrong with the car?” He slides his fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair.

  “No. At least…not that I know of. It was just in the shop after the shit at the warehouse, so it should have been in great shape. But...” I rest my head on his shoulder, suddenly too tired to keep talking.

  “It wasn’t your fault. Wrong place, wrong time.” With his arms around me again and the chai starting to relax me, I d
rift, not awake, not asleep. Content to just be with this man I’m falling for.

  Except…his words hang in the air.

  Wrong place. Wrong time.

  I’ve heard them before. Recently. But try as I might, I can’t quite remember when. Or why I should even care.

  12

  Royce

  Inara shifts with a little moan, her long legs tangling with mine as she’s lost in a dream. Halfway through her chai, she fell asleep in my arms, and I carried her to bed.

  I don’t know what possessed me to show up without calling. Worry. Need. Hers and mine. I spent half the day asleep, followed by hours of fighting with those fucking transmitters. Hell, I ended up destroying two of them when I couldn’t maneuver the delicate chips into place.

  Old Royce would have thrown the whole lot against the wall. New Royce is supposed to find better ways to deal with his emotions. Or at least, that’s what my therapist tells me. All day I’d felt the specter of a seizure looming. I should have stayed home, but Inara needed me. Coming here, being able to take care of my…

  I stare down at Inara. Dark circles bruise her eyes. She’s lost weight the past two days. Not surprising since she apparently didn’t eat tonight. Once I tucked her in, I cleaned up the untouched takeout in her kitchen, finished my chai, and popped a couple anti-seizure pills. But about half an hour ago, a blinding headache woke me, followed by one of the worst attacks I’ve had in a while. At least it only affected my head. Inara slept right through.

  My watch ticks past 3:00 a.m., and I slip out of bed and head for a shower. After an episode, it’s the only reliable way to ease the tension.

  Stripping, I avoid looking at my reflection as I step under the steaming spray. As the water washes away the memory of waking with my tongue frozen, my neck muscles straining, and my hands clenched into fists, I wonder how much longer we’ll go before she has to see me fight through the terror that always comes with an attack. Three years, and it doesn’t get any easier.

  With my hands braced on the white tiles, I duck my head and close my eyes. Sleeping next to Inara…felt so right. Hiding my seizures? My weakness? My pain?

  I tried that once—with Cam. And look where it got me. I want to tell her everything. But…

  Small, delicate fingers feather over my hips. Tight nipples press against my back. “I woke up…and you were gone.”

  Inara molds her body to mine. In a single breath, I’m rock hard, and when she reaches around me to stroke my cock, I groan. “You…should be…asleep.”

  Fuck.

  “I should be underneath you.”

  She hasn’t noticed my awkward speech or the tension in my shoulders. Turning, I claim her lips, my hands sinking into her wavy locks and holding her close.

  When we part, both of us breathless, I meet her gaze. “I need you, baby. All of you.”

  “You have me.” When she sinks to her knees, I angle the shower head at my back, trying not to drown her as she wraps her lips around my crown and works her tongue in ways I’ve only dreamed of.

  I fist her hair, but let her set the pace and the tone. The sight of her rocking back and forth, one of her hands clamped on my ass, the other wrapped around the base of my cock, is the most erotic fucking thing I’ve seen in years, and I try to memorize the look of raw need in her eyes. As she hollows out her cheeks, hums, and cups my balls, my vision goes white, and I can’t stop my hips from pistoning violently as I shout her name.

  Inara sits back on her heels, looking up at me like I hold the answers to everything when in reality, I’m just as lost as she is. Helping her up, I gather her in my arms and turn her so the hot water sluices over her back.

  “Hold me,” she whispers.

  I press a kiss to the top of her head. “All night.”

  Once we make it to bed, my headache fading along with the haunted look in her eyes, I run my hand up and down the smooth skin of her back. “I’ve never been one for having a woman on her knees. But damn.”

  She chuckles, a low, sexy sound I could lose myself in. “Reason five hundred and three why you’re not like other men. That’s not usually my go-to move.”

  “What is?” My dick stirs again, even though I know we should both be sleeping.

  “Up against the wall. My legs wrapped around you. Hard and rough.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, try to recite baseball stats, count to ten…anything to keep from burying myself deep. She’s using sex to distract from what’s going on inside—I know because that’s exactly what I’d like to do. “You’re killing me,” I manage. “I just came over to hold you. Be the supportive, understanding partner.”

  “Partner.” Her voice cracks, and she sighs as she lays her cheek against my chest. “I…”

  “Building something, remember?” Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I try to tug the blanket up over the curve of her hip where the last vestiges of her bruise still linger.

  Inara tips her head up, longing and raw honesty churning as flecks of blue darken within the gray depths of her eyes. “Royce…what I do…there’s always a chance I won’t come back.”

  “I know, baby.” I can’t help pulling her closer. “But this work…it’s a part of you. Who you are. I see that every time you talk about one of your rescues.”

  “Ryker…he can’t stand the idea of letting anyone rot in captivity. Not after what he went through. I just want to do something with my skills…something good. And I can save people. Most of the time.” Emotion bleeds from her words, like every one of them is a fresh wound.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you wouldn’t the other d-day. Why ‘most of the time’?”

  “Not tonight. Please. Tonight…I just want to feel alive. I want to fall asleep in your arms and have one night where the demons don’t find me.”

  Every protective instinct I have flares at the tremor in her voice. I want to shake her, to demand she tell me about those demons that come for her in her sleep. But I don’t know that I can refuse her anything, and if all she wants—all she can give me—is this, for the moment, it has to be enough.

  I reach over and flip off the light, but as she releases a pent-up breath, I press my lips to her ear. “I’m falling for you, Inara. Hard and fast. This morning…you should know…that happens regularly. I’m dreading the day you see me have a seizure.”

  Inara wriggles so we’re face-to-face, even though her blinds only let enough light in for me to see the outline of her cheek. “This is all new to me, Royce. Being in a…relationship. But I’ve seen the worst of humanity. I can’t promise I won’t fuck something up, but I can promise I won’t run.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you. When Cam got blown up, I bolted. As far and as fast as I could.”

  “Why?” She trails her hand down my arm, then links our fingers.

  “Because I couldn’t deal with the guilt. I s-s-signed up for the most dangerous assignment I could. On some level, I wanted to die. I thought that was the only way I could make things right.”

  Inara cups my cheek and brushes a kiss to my lips. “I know all about guilt, Royce. You don’t have the market cornered.”

  Playing with a lock of her hair, letting the silky strands slip over my fingers, I wait, hoping she’ll continue. She’s silent for so long, her slow, rhythmic breathing warm against my chest, I fear she’s fallen asleep until she whispers, “When I was twelve, my mother spent ten days in the hospital.”

  I stroke her back, calming, soothing—or trying to.

  “After September 11thth, we were living in Newark. One of the planes took off from there. And…things got bad for a while. Our little community—we had a mosque just down the street—was attacked a dozen times over the course of the next few months. In January, my father had to go to London for business, and he begged my mother and me to go with him, but…well…”

  “She didn’t want to fly?” I try to urge Inara closer, but she shudders and resists.

  With a small shake of her head, she continues. “She’d retired years
before, but still had friends who worked for Delta and United. They warned her not to. She was so beautiful—still is—but she wears a headscarf, and she is very obviously Middle Eastern. So we stayed home.

  “Dad told us not to go outside after dark.” She winces like she’s reliving physical pain. “I thought he was just overprotective.” Pressing her fist against her heart, she says, “I’m an American, Royce. I never thought…”

  Curling my fingers under her chin, I tip her head up and press my forehead to hers. “Tell me what happened.”

  “For the first couple of days, everything was fine. But then I forgot to stop and buy bread after school. Mom and I had this huge fight, and she went to the store. On the way home, she was mugged. They hit her over the head, stole her purse, and stabbed her in the stomach. Right outside of our apartment. I…found her.”

  “Oh fuck, baby. I’m sorry.” This time, I don’t give her a choice and guide her so she’s flush against me, her back to my front, and curl my body around hers. She almost burrows into me, her stuttering breaths not quite dissolving into sobs.

  After a few minutes, she calms enough to speak again. “They never caught the guys who attacked her. My father moved us all to San Diego as soon as Mom could handle the trip. New school, gated community…and I started taking self-defense classes. She got hurt because of me. She couldn’t have any more children… And she never once blamed me.”

  “Because it wasn't your fault. But that doesn't make it any better, does it?"

  Inara sucks in a sharp breath. “No.”

  I glance down at her as she blinks, and her eyelashes glisten with tears. “Tomorrow, when you go back to the hospital to check on Sonia, I’m going with you.”

  Her body goes rigid. “I can—”

  “Handle things by yourself? I know you can. But that doesn’t mean you have to. You’re not alone, Inara. Trust me.”