He didn’t like how that happened, where the car had sat without headlights.
The hesitant way it was moving away pricked his instincts honed on searching for IEDs.
You saw a certain type of car, a certain time of the day, in a certain spot, and you learned that bad shit followed.
People getting blown to bits.
For a second he saw the blood and heard the screams, and he had to clench his jaw till it hurt to make the images stop.
The car didn’t mean anything.
Not here.
He was back home in Broslin, not in Afghanistan.
He needed to focus on the problems that faced him right here right now, namely the redhead who’d somehow come between him and his bed.
He tapped the snow off his boots.
Frankly, given the choice, he’d rather that she went to bed
with
him.
As tired as his mind and body were, one part of him seemed to have gotten energized by the sight of her scantily clothed body.
If he wasn’t so exhausted, he would have laughed at himself.
He was no better than a sailor on shore leave.
The faster he got rid of the temptation she presented the better.
He was definitely putting some clothes on her before they started negotiating the terms of her lease.
He drew a deep breath, stepped inside and locked the door behind him.
Chapter Three
Kate watched warily from behind the kitchen island as Murph Dolan walked through the living room, looking around as if cataloguing the place.
Did he think she’d steal something?
She stiffened.
He was a soldier used to being in command.
He was probably used to having the upper hand in any given situation.
Step one was to firmly establish the fact that she was staying.
“I can drop you off at a hotel, if you’d like.”
His lips flattened.
“I’m not going to a hotel.”
“
Well, I’m not going to a hotel either.”
These days, every place required I.D., and she wasn’t sure hers would stand up to close inspection.
Plus, the plain truth was, she didn’t have the kind of cash she would need to live in a hotel until she found another rental where they wouldn’t scrutinize her and her background overly much.
She stuck her chin out.
“I have a valid lease on this place.”
He shot her a dark glare, then moved stiffly to the couch.
Sore right hip, she thought.
But even that couldn’t detract from his powerful body.
He dropped to the tan cushions and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched her.
“
I didn't catch your name.”
She hadn't given it.
“Katherine Concord.
Everybody calls me Kate.”
Exhaustion drew circles under his eyes, which were the color of the finest dark chocolate.
She could relate to his fatigue.
“
Can we talk about this tomorrow?
I just pulled a double shift.
I’m dead on my feet.”
She needed time to think, away from him, needed a chance for her brain to settle and start fully working without a half-naked warrior staring at her.
She was way too tired and frazzled to match wits with him tonight.
She needed to be on her toes for that, negotiate well and give none of her secrets away.
He watched her for a long moment.
“Fine.
Is my pickup still in the garage?”
The garage held
a
truck.
She’d thought it was Doug’s.
She nodded.
“
I’ll sleep in the pickup tonight.
We’ll figure things out after I have a chance to call my brother in the morning.”
Murph stood and headed for his duffel bag, picked it up, but stopped to glance back before opening the door.
“Where’s all my stuff?”
“
The house came furnished.
Doug said it was okay to use the furniture.
I just moved things around.
I didn’t remove anything.”
“
I meant my clothes.”
“
There are boxes downstairs.
I don’t rent the basement.”
His mouth tightened as he put his hand on the doorknob, ready to slog through the snow and sleep in the freezing garage.
She couldn’t wait to lock the door behind him, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a soldier back from war, injured.
He looked too tired to harm her, and she could lock the bedroom door.
She had her gun.
“
Wait,” she called after him as he stepped outside, letting in a blast of cold air.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Why don’t you sleep on the couch?”
Establishing some goodwill between them might help her with their negotiations in the morning.
He stepped back in and closed the door.
“Are you sure?”
“Not really, but I'm going to go with it anyway.
I can trust you, right?”
“
You have my word.”
His frank, straight gaze held hers.
“I’m an officer of the law here, by the way, when I’m not overseas.”
“
I heard you talking with Captain Bing.”
She picked up her gun from the counter.
“Okay.
I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Then she turned and hurried back to her room, locked the door and went straight to bed, leaving the loaded weapon within easy reach on the bedside table.
A cop-soldier-surprise-landlord.
Really?
She needed him like she needed a fork in the eye.
She had the night to figure out how to get him to let her stay.
Between now and morning, she had to come up with a foolproof plan to make him go away.
* * *
Kate woke to the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen and had her gun in hand by the time she remembered the man she was suddenly sharing a house with.
She set the weapon onto the nightstand, dropped back onto her pillow, closed her eyes and allowed herself a heartfelt groan.
Murphy Dolan.
He was a local police officer returning from the Army Reserves to kick her out on the street.
Great.
Just her luck.
Because being hunted by a hit man wasn’t stressful enough.
She looked up at the ceiling.
The only people she liked less than social workers were police officers.
She hadn’t trusted them as a kid, and she didn’t trust them now.
They’d never protected her.
Back when she’d lived with her birth mother, if the neighbors had heard screams or seen her beaten up, they called the cops.
The cops called the social workers and handed her over.
The police never held her mother long enough.
She’d get out of jail, pretend to turn her life around, and then the social workers would give Kate right back to her, and the beatings would start all over again.
She drew a deep breath and shook off the lingering anger and sadness.
No sense reliving old trouble from the past.
The past wasn’t going to define her.
She refused to allow it.
Her life would be whatever she made it, as soon as Asael was caught, and she could go back home.
She looked toward the window.
The morning light streaming in wasn't much at 7:30 in the middle of winter, the sky still mostly dark.
She’d meant to use the night to come up with a brilliant plan.
That didn't happen.
She’d been dead on her feet after a double shift at the diner.
Angie’s daughter had a fever so Angie couldn’t come in.
Eight hours of running around and serving meals was tough, sixteen was murder.
Kate slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a tight ponytail.
After she’d gone into hiding, she’d picked a dark auburn color with a fair amount of red and let her hair grow below her shoulders, the opposite of the beach blond pixie cut of her previous life.
She’d changed her clothing, too, her style.
Her colorful California shorts and tank tops had given way to neutral colors and denim, suburban housewife capris in the summer.
She shaped her eyebrows to change their angle, used eyeliner to change the shape of her eyes.
She’d put on a pound or two and wouldn’t have minded a few more, just enough to change her body shape a little.
Her gaze dropped from her face to her torso in the mirror.
Oh.
She winced.
Had she walked around in front of Murphy Dolan
like this last night?
Her nightgown had been selected because it was small and light-weight, a convenience for packing since she moved a lot.
She hadn’t planned on anyone seeing her in it.
The thin material showed a clear outline of her body.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed.
And if he had…she closed her eyes for a second.
She had bigger things to worry about right now.
Forget last night.
Get dressed.
Get to work.
She hurried back to the bedroom and yanked on her uniform: tan skirt, white top, then checked the FBI’s home page on her tablet, her usual morning ritual.
She stared at Rauch Asael’s image on the Most Wanted page for a second, at the grainy photo taken by a hidden camera at her funeral service.
They hadn’t caught him yet.
If they had, he’d be off the list.
She swallowed her disappointment and shut the tablet down.
She lived for the day when his picture would be gone, the man finally in custody, so she could go home to her family at last.
She wanted to cook with her mother again, tease her father about not letting anyone else ride the lawnmower, and listen as Emma shared her secrets about boys with all the drama of a teenager.
Of course, Emma was no longer a teen.
She was almost twenty one now.
Kate blinked.
With everything she was, she wanted to return.
But since that day wasn’t today, she had to figure out a way to get Murphy Dolan to let her keep her lease.
Arguing with him wasn’t going to work.
He wasn’t going to be intimidated by her.
He hadn’t been intimidated when she’d held a gun on him.
And, in any case, you caught more flies with sugar than vinegar.
Except, she wasn’t looking to influence flies.
She was looking to influence a cop.
Doughnuts?
She didn’t have that, but she could certainly make him breakfast.
She unlocked the bedroom door, stepped out into the hallway and hurried forward, putting on a confident smile.
“Hey.”
Murph was sitting at the kitchen table, staring bleary-eyed at a cup of coffee, wearing camouflage cargo pants and a standard-issue army T-shirt.
The overhead lights glinted off his biceps and chiseled forearms.
Okay.
Wow.
Now that it wasn’t the middle of the night and she wasn’t scared to death, she could acknowledge that her landlord was amazingly hot.
“
Good morning.”
She widened her smile.
“I hope you slept well.
How about I make you something to eat?”
She flitted into the kitchen, full of take-charge energy, snuck a square of caramel dark chocolate from the utensil drawer and popped it into her mouth.
He turned a bleary eye on her and grunted.
Great.
He was in a bad mood.
He couldn’t be in a bad mood when they were about to have a discussion that would have a huge effect on her life.
Cheer him up.
Quick.
She kept the smile as she turned on the radio, tuned to her favorite pop rock station.
He might have grunted again.
She couldn’t hear it over the music.
She wanted another square of chocolate.
Resisted.
His bicep flexed as he lifted the mug to his mouth.
The olive drab T-shirt stretched pretty impressively over his wide shoulders.
The 24-hour shadow emphasized his masculine jaw and....
She caught herself.
She was so not going to get distracted here.
“
How about bacon and eggs?”
She hurried to the fridge.
“With pancakes.”
She had to be able to stay.
Finding a rental that didn’t require a credit check and references wasn’t something she could do on short notice.
“
Orange juice?”
She poured a tall glass even as she asked.
She set it on the table in front of him, then went around him to the cupboard for flour, accidentally brushing against his shoulder in the small space.
She swallowed as an electric charge ran up her arm.
She stepped away too hastily and stubbed her toe on a chair, saw stars.
She gritted her teeth without letting her smile slip.
She was going to smile if it killed her.
She glanced toward the window, out into the dreary winter morning.
“I think we’re going to have a beautiful day.”