Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone Read online

  “Hey, Dax. What’s up?” She’s never sounded so…happy. “I finished scanning for those stolen photographs from the mayor’s phone. Ford should have the final report in a couple of hours.”

  “Ford’s…taking care of some shit.” I don’t know how much to tell her, except…they might need Ryker’s help. “He and Trevor are on their way to Uzbekistan.”

  “What the flapjacks are they doing there?”

  “It’s a long story. But…they might need you…and Ryker.” The words don’t feel as hard to say as I thought they would. “If he’s around, put me on speaker?”

  “Just a sec.” Rustling carries over the line, and then the connection clicks. “Okay, boss. We’re here.”

  “Ry.” This is harder. When we hung up the previous night, I felt like someone had wrung me out and thrown me from a fourth floor window. Spit it out. Stick to business. You can do the friendship thing later.

  “Ford thinks his former girlfriend’s been kidnapped in Turkmenistan,” I say in a rush.

  “Oh my God,” Wren whispers.

  Ryker clears his throat, “Sampson’s out for another few days, but Inara and Graham and I can be there in twenty-four hours.”

  By the time I fill them in on the details I know and Ford’s desire to investigate on his own first, I feel almost steady. Talking business—even if it involves my friends in danger, makes me feel…capable. I can’t be out there with him, no matter how much I want to be. I’m too broken to save anyone again. But this, I can do. Coordinate. Make things happen.

  “We’ll wait, then,” Ry says. “But if Ford can keep me updated—even through Wren—I’ll make sure the team’s prepped if we’re needed.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  Over the line, Ryker sucks in a sharp breath, and my chest tightens. In some ways, it’s like no time’s passed. And in others, there’s still this huge chasm between us I don’t know how to cross.

  “De oppresso liber,” he says, his voice rough. “We don’t leave a man or woman behind. Ever.”

  “I wish I could be out there.” The thought escapes on a whisper before I can stop it, and I scramble to change the subject. “Uh, Wren, there’s something else I need you to work on while we wait to hear from Ford.”

  “Give us a minute, sweetheart?” Ry’s question sends my heart rate shooting up. I don’t know if I can have another deep conversation with the man yet, but the phone clicks off speaker, and then his voice rumbles in my ear. “You all right?”

  For several seconds, I freeze and turn towards the windows, needing the warmth of the sun on my face. Something to remind me I’m free, alive, and not totally useless. But it’s past five, and only shadows greet me.

  “Dax? Answer me, Sergeant.”

  The order snaps me back to the present. “Yeah. Fine.” Be honest. Tell him. Stop hiding. Except, I can’t. There’s only so much sharing I can handle in a twenty-four hour period. Only so much weakness I can admit.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I should be going with him! Is that what you wanted to hear, Ry?” Slamming my hand down on the desk, I wince as a twinge of pain races up my arm. “With Ford and Trevor gone, I’m understaffed, and so I have to tell a client she’s going to be guarded by a fucking blind man for the next couple of days. How the hell am I supposed to keep her safe? I can’t even see her.”

  “You beat the crap out of me when we fought,” Ry says quietly. “You lost your sight, brother. Not your skills. Not your training. You still earned that patch, and no one can take that away from you. And if I had to go into a fight with you at my back, I wouldn’t think twice.”

  “You’d regret it.”

  An edge returns to his voice, and suddenly, we’re back to being strangers again. “Not a chance. Here’s Wren.”

  “Well, that sounded like it went well,” she says dryly. “I’m not even going to ask. Not today. But the two of you need to figure your bull-pucky out soon before I lose my mind. Now tell me about this other case.”

  8

  Dax

  Sitting at the small table with my coffee, I wait for Evianna at the Dunkin’ Donuts outside her office building. With how we left things yesterday, I don’t expect her to be happy to see me, but at least escorting her home will give me a chance to explain.

  Explain what? That you’re blind? That’s supposed to fix everything?

  All I can hear is Lucy.

  “Dax! Are you okay?” She grabs my arm and tries to help me up. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

  “Make myself a damn sandwich. You want to tell me why you decided to leave your shoes in the middle of the floor? You know I can’t see them.“

  “I didn’t expect you to get up. I’m not perfect, Dax. All these changes? Putting everything back in the exact same spot, always warning you before I touch you…not to mention the nightmares? Did you ever think about how this affects me?”

  I couldn’t tell her the truth back then. That I was so wrapped up in my own shit, too hurt, to afraid to even realize she was there most of the time. Even when she tried to help.

  The bell over the door rings, and the scent of freesia envelops me. “So this is how your company runs things?” Evianna’s voice holds a note of annoyance as she stops a few feet away. “Ford was supposed to text me and let me know who was meeting me here. He didn’t.”

  Frustration stiffens my spine, and I sit up a little straighter. “Ford had an unexpected family emergency to take care of. If he said he was going to text you, he should have followed through. But I understand why he couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”

  Evianna sighs, and her voice softens. “Will his family be all right?”

  “I don’t know yet.” What the hell do I do now? Pull my cane out from behind my chair and stand up? Just say it? Oh, by the way, you should know…I’m blind.

  “I need a cup of tea. Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Holloway.”

  “Dax,” I call after her as clipped footsteps head for the counter behind me.

  Her voice changes, so much so I think she must be smiling at the young clerk as she orders a cup of chamomile. When she returns, she drops into the chair across from me. The other day, I thought she had short hair. But today, with the light behind her, I think maybe…her hair’s long. Dark brown.

  “It’s been an endless day of frustrations…Dax. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Thank you for coming.”

  The band of tension around my head tightens, and I pull off my glasses so I can pinch the bridge of my nose. Sometimes, that’s enough to stave off the headache for a few hours. The movement jostles my briefcase, and my folded cane tumbles out of the side pocket and clatters to the floor.

  Evianna gasps, and now she knows. What I look like—or think I look like—without the glasses, and why I didn’t take her hand yesterday.

  “Oh my God,” she says, her voice muffling as she leans down and picks up my cane. “You’re…blind?” Warm fingers brush mine, pressing the cane into my palm.

  Jerking away—I don’t like to be touched—and setting the cane on the table between us, I offer a single nod. “Yep.”

  “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Gritting my teeth, I put my glasses back on. “I don’t need your pity. I’ve done just fine for the past six years.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She sighs, and a hint of exasperation tinges her tone. Hearing her swear is…refreshing. Like a crack in her armor. “That wasn’t pity. It was an apology for my less than professional behavior yesterday. And a little shock. Either I wasn’t paying attention during our meeting, or you’re very good at hiding it. I mean…you read my police report. Or…I thought you did.”

  I try to ignore the pounding headache threatening as I tap my glasses. Coffee wasn’t a good idea. “There’s a small camera embedded in the frame. It works with my phone—optical character recognition? Reads me restaurant menus, street signs, police reports.”

  “I didn’t know they came that small.” She blows on her tea,
sending a sweet aroma wafting over me.

  “They do when you employ one of the best hackers in the world. And have enough money.”

  Evianna’s light laugh carries a hint of strain, but this is progress. Hope that perhaps she won’t fire Second Sight before I can find someone more…capable to protect her. “Touché. I did a lot of research on OCR technology for Alfie. I’d like her to work with more adaptive devices in the next version. It’s…why I built her, ultimately. But she has to prove herself first.” After another sip of tea, she clears her throat. “Have you…um…found anything in Kyle’s…past? Or any evidence he might be truly violent?”

  An overwhelming need to reassure her flares up inside me, and I barely stop myself from reaching across the table. Not that I know where her hand is. But what I have to tell her won’t go over well.

  “Evianna…we can’t find him. I sent Ronan to his apartment this afternoon. His neighbor said she hadn’t seen him in two days. The mobile phone on his account is off, and he hasn’t used any of the email accounts tied to him since the night he threw the brick through your window. He’s gone dark.”

  “Oh God. That…can’t be good.”

  Running my fingers over my folded cane, I try to find the words that will make this okay. “It isn’t anything yet. Good or bad. He could have left town. Gotten a new job across the country. Be on a two-day bender.”

  “Or he could be waiting at my house.”

  I haven’t felt this…useless in years. “Evianna, I want you to know…in a couple of days, I’ll have another one of my employees escort you to and from work. We’re just short-staffed right now.”

  Someone starts shouting obscenities outside, I tense, and the table shakes as Evianna turns in her chair.

  “What is it?”

  “Shit. Sorry. It’s just kids horsing around,” she says with a little tremble in her voice.

  I wish I knew what she looked like. Because right now, she sounds like she’s about to crack. “Ford said you usually take the T home, but it’s late. I have a car service I use. Let me call them. I’ll ride with you, and by the time we get to your house, Vasquez should be there.”

  “Are you sure? I mean…I can call a Lyft. You don’t have to—”

  “You hired Second Sight to keep you safe. I know I’m not exactly who you expected. But as off balance as Kyle’s been lately, we haven’t found any evidence he’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re not alone. Besides,” I try for a smile, even though I feel about two inches tall, “I’m pretty damn good with this cane.”

  Evianna

  “Two minutes,” Dax says as his phone vibrates on the small table between us. “The driver knows to identify himself when we get outside.” He stands and unfolds his cane, and I curl my fingers around his elbow to guide him towards the door. But he pulls away with a half-hiss, half-growl. “Don’t.”

  Backing up a step, I raise my hands. “What did I do?”

  His free hand clenches into a fist at his side, and lines of strain bracket his lips. He’s breathing heavily, and he shakes his head. “Never,” he says, his voice harsh and rough, “touch a blind man without an invitation. Where’s the trash can?” He fumbles for his coffee cup, and I’m so shocked, I don’t even think.

  “Over there.”

  “Evianna, do you think I have any idea where you’re pointing? Try using clock time. It’s the most reliable.”

  Heat crawls up my neck, flooding my cheeks. “To your right. Um, four o’clock? Ten feet.”

  With his cane tapping on the tile floors, he reaches the trash bins and manages to get his empty cup inside after the second try. Turning, he makes a beeline back to me. “Head for the car. It’s a black SUV. I’ll follow you.”

  I nod before I realize what I’m doing. “O-kay.”

  A black Toyota rolls up to the curb, and a uniformed driver hops out. “Mr. Holloway?” the driver asks as we approach, Dax only a foot behind me. “I’m Thomas with Transportation Unlimited.”

  “Yes. We’re headed to 1846 Newland Place.”

  “Absolutely, sir.” The driver opens the back door, and I’m so out of my element, I don’t know what to do.

  Holding out his hand to me, Dax sighs. “Show me where the door frame is.”

  When I do, his warm fingers don’t flinch, and he slides into the back seat with ease and folds up his cane. I stay as far away from him as I can when the driver shuts the door and jogs around to the front of the car.

  “Just to confirm, 1846 Newland Place?” the driver says.

  “Yes. Thank you.” My voice isn’t steady, and I wish I could rewind the past twenty minutes and avoid Dunkin’ Donuts completely. But we’re trapped here now, and I don’t know what to say to the man next to me.

  “About before.” Dax runs a hand through his hair, highlighting a scar slashing across his forehead and one misshapen eyebrow. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Reflex.”

  His face carries the weight of his apology, and though he can’t see me, I think a hint of sorrow lingers in his ultra-pale blue eyes.

  “Apology accepted. I was just—”

  “Trying to help. I get it. Look, did you ever go to one of those haunted houses when you were a kid? The kind where they turned off all the lights and the employees had night vision?”

  A laugh starts to threaten, and I nod. “Of course. My friends and I went every year in high school.”

  He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and stares—or appears to stare—out the window. “How scared were you when someone grabbed you in the darkness?”

  “One year, I went with a new boyfriend, and I’m pretty sure I peed my pants. That relationship didn’t last.”

  His voice is low. Quiet. So quiet the traffic almost hides his words. “My entire life is one big, hazy, haunted house.”

  “Oh.” My gaffe sinks in, and shame keeps my voice to a whisper.

  “If I need help, I’ll ask. Then it’s fine to take my arm. Or if you’re really worried about me running into a wall or falling into an open manhole or something, warn me you’re about to touch me.” His voice is softer now, almost as if he’s ashamed he has to ask for help at all.

  We don’t speak at all for the rest of the trip, and when the driver pulls over at the end of my block—a quintessential Boston neighborhood with no parking and a street barely wide enough for a single car—I thank him, scan the street, then turn to Dax. “I don’t see Vasquez.”

  “Hang on.” He tucks his Bluetooth in his ear and taps the button. “VoiceAssist: call Vasquez.”

  The call connects, and after a minute, Dax makes a frustrated sound—almost a growl. “You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago. I don’t care if you got stuck behind a Duck Boat. You plan for these things. How much longer?”

  When he taps his earbud again, the stress lines around his lips deepen. “Vasquez is still ten minutes away.”

  Pulling out my phone, I check Alfie’s status. “My cameras haven’t caught anything in the past hour. I’ll be fine. It’s still early.”

  I’m pretty sure my voice belies my words, though, because Dax reaches for his cane. “I’ll walk you to your door. If you want me to stay until Vasquez shows up, I will.”

  Throwing open the door, I ease myself down. “Get out on this side,” I say. “Otherwise you’re—”

  “Exiting into traffic? I know. Only been blind six years, Evianna. I remember how cars work.”

  As he slides across the seat, I huff out a breath. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, you know.”

  “I’d hate to hear you when you are, then,” he mutters.

  “You know what? Screw it. Stay in the car, Dax. It’s all of a hundred feet to my door, and I have the best security system in the world. Thank you for the ride. If you’re going to pick me up for work in the morning, I have to be at the office by seven-thirty.”

  I slam the door in his face, then stride purposefully towards my home. With every step, I realize how much I depend on my eyes. Avoiding the pile of do
g shit next to the curb, stepping over the single cobblestone that’s an inch and a half taller than all the others, knowing how close I am to my door and when to reach for my keys.

  Even with this new knowledge, I’m still royally pissed off at Dax. I was trying to be nice. It’s not my fault I don’t know anything about being blind. The touching thing…that he’s got me on. I see how stupid that was now. But warning him about the traffic? What the hell?

  Closing my door, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Alfie, I’m home.”

  Those words are supposed to turn on the downstairs lights, and the unit should greet me by name, but everything stays dark. “Alfie. I’m home,” I repeat as I turn the corner towards my home office.

  Something slams into my back, the stale scent of cigarettes assaulting my nose, and before I can scream, a hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my air. He’s on top of me, his bulk pressing me face down into the thick area rug covering my office floor. Something sharp digs into my cheek, and I buck and thrash, trying to dislodge him.

  “Where is it?” my attacker hisses in my ear. “Give me the drive, and I won’t have to kill you.”

  9

  Dax

  I sink back against the seat. What the fuck is wrong with me? Evianna wasn’t trying to be insensitive. And I snapped at her.

  “Dammit. I have to apologize. How far is it to her door?”

  “We’re six houses away. You want me to walk you there?” the driver asks.

  “Yes.” I unfold my cane as the driver comes around to take my arm, and he guides me down the quiet block. More magnolia blossoms, followed by the scent of roses.

  “We’re here,” he says. “Three short steps to the landing.”

  As I’m about to knock, several thuds sound from inside. And…is that a muffled cry? Another sound, this one closer to a scream, sends my heart shooting into my throat, and I grab the driver’s arm. “Go back to the car. If you don’t see me come out this door in sixty seconds, call 911 and report a break-in with assault in progress at this address.”