Be on the Lookout (12 page)

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Authors: Tyler Anne Snell

BOOK: Be on the Lookout
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Chapter Nineteen

Jake didn't answer his phone when Kate called and they decided against leaving any specific information on his voice mail. A vague “Call as soon as you get this—we need to talk,” was all the scientist said. Still, Jonathan parked his rental outside an apartment complex on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with every intention of making it their permanent residence until they left New York.

“His apartment is on the third floor,” Kate said, pulling her luggage over the sidewalk and up to the front door. No longer in her robe, she'd changed into a long-sleeved blue blouse, a pair of jeans and comfortable-looking flats. She twisted her hair up into a bun and had taken pains to spray down her thick bangs. She hadn't fooled with applying makeup. It was nearing night and they'd be staying put.

“You've been here before, right?” Jonathan asked as he helped her inside. Immediately they were met with stairs to their right. Kate exhaled.

“Yes, once, which means I sadly know there's no elevator. Because I haven't already had my fill of stairs for today,” she mumbled. “At least now I won't be getting shot at.”

Jonathan smiled, thinking her frustration was perhaps a great deal cuter than it should have been, and started the trek upward, all the while fussing over the woman like she was a child. She'd already been the target of attempted murder three times in two days. Jonathan reasoned his worry was more than warranted.

There were four apartments on the third floor and Kate directed them to one facing the street they'd parked on. A brown and black doormat with the word
Welcome
greeted them.

“Surely an FBI agent doesn't just keep his spare key beneath the mat?” he asked, worrying that maybe Jake wasn't as careful as he'd thought.

Kate chuckled. She lowered her bags to the ground. Putting her foot on the black rubber part of the mat, she bent and burrowed her fingers beneath the raised brown plastic on top. She pulled up and the sound of Velcro coming apart followed.

“It's not Fort Knox, but I don't think many would look here,” she said, spying the key tucked in the open space. She pushed the middle back down and turned to Jonathan. Her eyebrow arched.

“Are you jealous of Jake's doormat?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

“Just unlock the door.”

The apartment opened on a small L-shaped white kitchen that attached directly to the living area with an exposed brick accent wall at the back. Between the two was a small square dining set, a dark green patterned couch, a barrel that had been converted into an accent table and a large flat screen atop shelving bolted into the brick. On the rest of the walls making up the living and dining space were various framed pictures ranging from posters of cop movies to random road signs to pictures of family and friends. Kate watched as Jonathan took in these details and elaborated on a few.

“The only rebellious phase Jake ever went through when we were younger was stealing street signs. He's quite proud of them still.” Her attention moved to the converted table. “That was a gag gift my father got Bill a year before he died. I don't think Jake's ever been without it.” She pointed to the door across from the table. It was small, as he guessed the room behind it also would be. “Guest bedroom,” she said, then pointed to the door next to it. “Very tiny, badly tiled bathroom. Leaving the last door as his room. Also not the most attractive room.”

Jonathan laughed and parked his bags next to the couch. He headed back to the kitchen. Their pizza had never shown up at the hotel and he hoped Jake had something that could pass as a meal.

Kate dropped her things off in the guest bedroom and disappeared into Jake's room soon after. To do what, he didn't know. The agent didn't have anything to make a three-course meal, but he had enough to make turkey sandwiches with a side of chips. Jonathan didn't know much about Kate's eating habits aside from her love of the Chinese restaurant, but he was almost positive she was as hungry as he was and would take the food without complaint.

“Food's ready,” he called, plating each sandwich.

Kate appeared as he put the plates on the dining table. Her cheeks were rosy and she didn't meet his eyes right away.

“You look suspicious,” he commented. Kate tried to play coy and waved a hand at him as if to bat away his concern. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said, as if pretending she hadn't gone into the agent's room in the first place. She took her seat across from him. He was happy to see the flash of pleasure that crossed her face as she spied the food. She didn't hesitate in beginning to eat.

“You know, I don't think I've snooped through Mark's or Oliver's places before, which is what I'm assuming you just did, and definitely not Nikki's,” he pointed out with a smile. “I think you're nosy.”

“From the little I know of Nikki Waters, it's probably a good thing you don't,” she replied, not denying the accusation. “I would think the founder of a security agency appreciates her privacy.” He gave her a thumbs-up to show she was right on the money. “I only snoop when I think there might be something worthy of the effort.” She cut her eyes back to Jake's room. “Something that might help us make sense of everything.”

“And did you find anything useful?”

“No, but I didn't really have enough time, now did I?” She threw him a wink that induced a different kind of pleasure within him than when Kate had eyed her food. It caught him off guard. So much so that he tried to cover for whatever his expression might have given away. He turned to the pictures on the wall beside them.

“Is that Bill?” he asked, honing in on one of a dark blond-haired man smiling wide. The ocean was behind him and he squinted a bit from the glare of the sun. The picture was aged.

“Yes, that was a few years before—” Kate stopped that thought and continued with a new one. “I think my father was the one who took that picture, actually.” She put her half-eaten sandwich down and stood. She went along the wall, nose close, investigating each picture until she found the one she was looking for. “Our parents decided to do a joint family vacation one year. It had been a long time since Jake's mom had been to the beach, so we packed up for a few days and went.”

Jonathan joined her in front of the picture. Bill was sitting in the sand behind Jake as a little boy, while a smiling fair-haired woman was farther back in a striped beach chair. Jake wasn't looking at the camera, his concentration on a half-constructed sand castle in front of him. Jonathan recognized Deacon from Kate's Orion file—the younger version was seated in his own striped chair next to Jake's mother, caught in midlaugh. A woman in a black one-piece stood near him, but her eyes were on the little girl with her hands in the sand castle, a small smile on her face. That little girl, undoubtedly Kate, was the only person in the picture looking directly at the camera. They all looked so happy. So content. “You look just like your mother,” Jonathan said, looking back at the woman. When the picture was taken she'd been older than Kate was now, but the resemblance was unbelievable.

Kate smiled.

“Thank you. This was actually the first attempt at a nice, smiling picture another tourist was kind enough to offer to take, but then something made my father break out into laughter.” The smile from receiving Jonathan's compliment extended. It seemed to strengthen with the power of what must have been a good memory. “After that no one could get their acts together. I don't even know that we have a normal one. A few years back Jake's mother found this and made copies for us and my dad. It's one of my favorite pictures.” Kate turned and Jonathan felt the bright light of the love she felt for her family, including Jake and his parents, move to him. Inadvertently he took a step away. He wished he could share the same type of memories—childhood ones of family—with her, be able to share stories of growing up, even the bumps along the way. But he had none.

He moved back to the table and picked up his food again. He was aware that Kate watched him, but she didn't comment on the change in his mood. Instead she, too, went back to eating, and in silence they each finished their food. Still without talking, Kate collected their empty plates and cleaned up. Jonathan tried to shake the mood he'd fallen into but was coming up short. The walls—the emotional barriers—around him built up once again. So high, in fact, that he didn't notice when Kate took her seat opposite him again until she spoke.

“Foster care?” Jonathan felt his eyes widen, finding hers with a questioning look. She gave him an apologetic smile and explained, “Yesterday you mentioned you moved around a lot as a child, something that you seemed angry about but not annoyed with. You also have an intense desire to plant roots and a fierce loyalty and, I bet, protectiveness of your friends and Orion. You talk about them as if they are your family. Plus—” she motioned to the back of her upper arm “—your tattoo. It's of a house.”

“That's a big assumption you're making,” he said. His even tone didn't faze her. Her dark eyes were kind, searching his face for what, he didn't know. She remained quiet until finally he decided to tell her a story he'd never told anyone before. “My mom died right after I was born and my dad had no business being a parent. So he decided not to be.” The anger that he had once felt—the resentment—toward his father all of his childhood wasn't there anymore. He was just stating facts now.

“Like thousands of other children in the country, I was never adopted and constantly moved around through foster families. For one reason or another, I couldn't make a meaningful connection with the adults. I couldn't seem to make friends with any of the kids, either. Not that it would matter if I had. There were some kids who had siblings in the system they hadn't seen or talked to in years.” He exhaled. He might no longer feel the ill feelings he once had about his father's abandonment, but he didn't think he'd ever forget the overwhelming weight of loneliness.

“In high school I was sent to live with a woman who was rumored to only get kids with no hope of being adopted,” he continued. “I'll never forget her, if only for her tattoos. She had these large, intricate works of art covering almost every inch of skin. One day I asked how she picked them. She said it had started with one. She'd sat down and thought about what she loved or wanted most in life and got a tattoo that represented it. Every one after was something else she loved or wanted until she was running out of room. So, one day I sat down, too, and while I was trying to think of what I loved more than anything, I drew this.” He turned a bit so she could see the tattoo better. He didn't have to look down to recall the little box outline with its triangle on top, squares for windows and a small rectangle for the front door. It was an exact replica of the one he'd doodled on the corner of his notebook. “I guess I'm a cliché. The only thing I'd ever loved was the idea of a home.”

Kate stood up so quickly that her chair scraped against the hardwood. Jonathan tensed, ready to put out whatever fire she'd just remembered, but the brunette came around the table and threw her arms around him. She put her chin against his shoulder and buried her face against his neck.

“You're not a cliché,” she said, slightly muffled.

Jonathan felt the walls around him shake. Not on reflex—because he didn't have one for this kind of situation—he returned the embrace with a smile. Kate's body was warm against him. The perfume she'd put on before they'd left the hotel was flowery and perfect.

“Thank you,” he said, voice soft, almost afraid to spook her. Kate stepped back and what Jonathan saw alarmed him. “Are you crying?”

Kate brought the back of her hands up and wiped away the few stray tears that had found their way to her reddened cheeks.

“Well, excuse me,” she exclaimed. “My heartstrings were just violently strummed.” She started to move away from him, backing up like she'd been burned. He'd embarrassed her.

“No,” he said, capturing her hands so she couldn't escape. “I just don't want to see you cry. Not because of me.” Kate stopped moving. Another tear leaked out and all Jonathan could think about was stopping it. He dropped her hand and lifted it to her cheek, running his fingers across and wiping the tear free. “I'll admit that my childhood wasn't ideal, and there are times when I still wish it had been different, but then I remember if it had, I never would have met Nikki. She never would have referred me for a job at Redstone and I'd never have met Oliver and Mark. I'd never leave and join Orion and meet some of the best people I've ever known.”

He heard his voice go low on the last part, saw Kate's expression soften and felt the urge to tell her she was now included in that list of people all at the same time. “Don't worry about me, Kate. Let me worry about you.”

Chapter Twenty

Every part of Kate was telling—no, screaming at—her to kiss the man in front of her. To create a different kind of embrace than the one they'd shared moments before. To open up and lose herself in something other than her work.

But Kate's body drew away from him before her mind could reason out why. She gave him a quick smile she hoped said everything she couldn't and moved out of his reach.

“The convention is tomorrow afternoon, and no matter what happens, I feel like I should get some sleep,” she said.

It was like a fog lifted from Jonathan's face. He straightened his back, cleared his throat and nodded. Guilt, though she didn't quite understand its place, slowly turned within her. Like she'd deflated him somehow.

“Yeah, I don't blame you for being tired,” he said. “I'm going to stay out here and wait for Jake to get in.”

“Could you wake me up when he does?” Kate was already moving away, as if she could physically separate herself from the foreign feeling of desire she realized had started to grow.

“Sure thing,” he said, “Good night, Miss Scientist.”

Despite her unease, when she got to the guest bedroom door she turned with a quick response.

“You, too, Mr. Bodyguard.”

She shut the door behind her like she was running from a nightmare. But hadn't Jonathan been the one good thing in her dreams? Kate put her back to the door and tried to compose her skittering thoughts.

The man had opened up to her—had been undeniably vulnerable—and what had she done with the moment? Run. The way he'd looked at her, the way he'd wiped her tears away yet left his hand caressing her face had given her the perfect moment to grab hold of something.

But she couldn't do it.

Jonathan wanted roots. He wanted friends, a family, a home. Aside from her father visiting and the occasional email or phone call from Greg and Jake, Kate's life revolved around her work. Her one goal in life. She didn't know how to cope or deal with anything else. Like her father said, she was narrow-minded. Seeing the big picture wasn't just hard for her, it was sometimes downright impossible.

One thing she was sure of in the midst of all of the new uncertainty that had surfaced in her life was that the man in the next room deserved more than an emotionally stunted woman stumbling through what others did with ease.

He deserved a life without her as a complication.

* * *

K
ATE
ROLLED
OVER
, getting wrapped up in the mismatched blanket and sheets, and looked up into the darkness. She'd been in bed for at least two hours and hadn't gotten a lick of sleep, but not for lack of trying.

The first hour she wondered if it was her fear of slipping back into her dream world from earlier that day. Reliving the discovery of her mother and Bill's bodies was frightening enough to make her mind try its best to stay awake. It was a niggling thought that finally got her to call her father. She'd ignored his few calls over the last two days, responding with a quick text that she was fine, just busy. She didn't want to worry him more than he already was. Despite the late hour, which she let him assume was because she'd been working and lost track of time, he'd been happy to finally hear her voice. She promised to call him after the convention the next day. She made sure to tell him she loved him. The rest of that hour had then crawled by. Yet, as she rolled into the next hour, she started to realize what she was really afraid of.

The dark.

The world when she was awake.

The couple that had made very public and violent attempts on her life.

Thoughts of the man and his dark, narrow eyes made her hand flit to her hair. She massaged her scalp, remembering the pain of having her hair pulled without an ounce of remorse.

It was that man and his partner that kept her tossing and turning. The tiny window that faced the side of the building next door didn't help with its lack of light that filtered into the small room.

After more time had passed, Kate finally gave up. As quietly as if it was Christmas and she was trying to get a glimpse of Santa, she tiptoed to the door and slowly opened it. She winced as it creaked something awful. The lights from the kitchen and living area were off, save for a floor lamp next to the TV. It was enough light for her to see Jonathan quickly turn at the noise.

She held her hands up in defense.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I meant to be a bit sneakier than that.”

Jonathan visibly relaxed and put down what looked like a sports magazine he'd been reading.

“Is everything okay?”

Kate nodded.

“You having trouble sleeping?”

Jonathan grinned.

“I'm not trying to.”

“You have to sleep sometime,” she pointed out.

“Sometimes that's not in the job description.”

Kate was going to argue, but who was she to tell anyone what to do within the bounds of their job. She certainly didn't listen to others. Still, she bounced from foot to foot, trying carefully to say the right thing.

“So,” she started, cheeks already blazing hot. “You're not going to try to sleep any time soon?”

Jonathan raised his eyebrow but nodded.

“I've worked on a lot less sleep,” he explained. “Why?”

Kate's blush was an all-out inferno. She could feel its heat even moving to her ears.

“Well, I was wondering, if it's okay with you, if maybe you could come stay in here with me?” Jonathan's eyebrow rose so high that it almost seemed to get lost in his hairline. “It's just, well, I can't fall asleep,” she added quickly, rubbing the side of her arm, self-conscious. “I think I'd feel safer if you were closer.”

“Oh,” Jonathan said, two beats too late. Kate started to back into the bedroom again, waving her hands to dismiss her request.

“Never mind, it's okay, really,” she said. “I can—”

Jonathan stood and started laughing. It stopped her words before they tripped off her tongue.

“Kate, it's okay,” he said. “I don't mind in the least. Plus, this couch is really uncomfortable.”

Kate felt her lips pull up at the corners. She'd bet that last part was for her benefit. The bodyguard moved toward her and she flipped the light back on so he could see the room. It was small and only housed a queen-size bed, a nightstand, a closet and a strip of carpet for limited foot traffic. Kate turned to see him sizing up the space and realized he might not have known what he was agreeing to do.

“There's nothing in here but the bed,” she said, blunt. Jonathan let out another howl of laughter. Instead of backing out or teasing her, he kicked off his shoes and sat down on the side closest to the door. It sagged a bit beneath his weight as he lay down, so long his feet nearly went off the foot, and put his hands behind his head.

“If I turn the light off, won't it make you sleepy?” Kate asked, moving her hand over the switch. Jonathan shook his head. So she clicked it off and moved to the other side of the bed. If she hadn't been in her long T-shirt and pajama shorts, she wouldn't have suggested his supervision in the room. But, truth be told, she
did
need to get some sleep.

The bed dipped considerably less as she quickly shimmied under the displaced sheets and blanket. The bed might have been queen-size, but as she found the warm spot that her body had created before, she realized just how close the man next to her was. Although he was wearing the same shirt and pants from earlier that day and there was a swath of fabric between them, she could feel warmth from him seeping into her. It was more than just comforting.

Kate waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and the smallest ounce of light from the window while she rolled on her side and finally looked up at the man. Able to make out a wisp of his profile, she found her earlier thoughts on whatever moment they could have shared weighing on her just as heavily as her desire to save him the trouble of having her in his life. She pulled her hand out of the covers with the intention of taking his while the internal struggle between her happiness and his waged within her. Her hand paused in midair.

Do it, Kate.

But she couldn't. Her hand slid beneath her pillow.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered into the dark. The sound of him moving his head toward her made the heat in her cheeks flare back to life.

“What for?”

Kate was sorry she'd been mean to him, callous and tactless about his profession when they'd met. She was sorry she'd been difficult and her singular focus had put him in danger. She was sorry that, despite the fact that he'd saved her at least three times, she didn't know how to really say thank-you. She was sorry for a lot of things, but couldn't find the words to connect that feeling to one thought.

“I'm not good with people,” was all she said. In her mind it encompassed everything she felt guilty for right down to the moment she'd let slip away.

Jonathan moved some more, but in the darkness she couldn't pinpoint how.

“You're just fine for me.”

Despite the lack of light, Jonathan's lips found hers with undeniable precision. Like his body, their warmth coaxed out a desire in Kate that she'd been trying to keep at bay. One that she felt growing stronger and stronger.

Jonathan broke the kiss and moved back.

“Sorry,” he started, voice suddenly very low. “I—”

Kate pushed her body forward, hand out, taking his face and bringing his lips back to hers. She'd interrupted him, but manners be damned. Jonathan's apology evaporated like the space between their two bodies. His lips were as hungry as hers, and soon their tongues joined each other in a tangled fray.

Kate moaned against him, against his taste. The sound seemed to charge the bodyguard even more. He rolled on top of her, elbows out to prop himself up, all without breaking their bond. Kate more than approved of the new position, putting her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. For years, and maybe her entire life up until this point, she hadn't craved anyone as badly as she now craved this man. Kate moved her hands down to the bottom of his shirt and tugged upward with enthusiasm. Instead of it peeling off easily like she'd seen in countless movies, it stuck. Frustrated, she accidentally made a huff sound against his lips. She felt the same lips curve up into a smile. Jonathan broke their kiss, much to her dismay.

Without a word he sat up, now fully straddling her. Kate's chest heaved up and down, her face hot, but not as much as the rest of her when the bodyguard did something that really raised her temperature. With her eyes fully adjusted and able to make out what he was doing, Kate watched wide-eyed as the bodyguard pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor. He lowered his lips back down to her, and instead of the hard crush of the last one, this kiss was a soft brush that left her wanting more. He moved his lips to her ear and whispered something that let Kate know exactly where she wanted this to go.

“Your turn.”

* * *

L
IKE
LIGHTNING
HAD
struck her, Kate's eyelids flashed open. Something that had been hanging in the back of her mind was about to fall free. An idea, a theory on the tip of her tongue that bothered her on an almost emotional level. Something her mind was grasping for with such enthusiasm she'd woken up to help solve whatever problem it was attached to.

She started to get out of bed when an odd heaviness brought her attention to the man beside her, derailing her train of thought. Jonathan was on his side, fast asleep, his arm thrown over her—protective still. Kate smiled. She'd had a feeling the man had been just as tired as her.

Kate took a moment to watch the bodyguard sleep. In the soft light of early morning, she had an unobstructed view of his well-muscled chest with its light brushing of dark hair that slid down his stomach and disappeared beneath the sheets. She felt her cheeks heat with the knowledge of exactly what was beneath them. Despite her need to get some sleep, they'd spent quite a big portion of the rest of the night doing anything but.

She used all of her grace to move the man's arm off her and slip out of the bed without jostling him too much. He stirred but didn't wake up. Kate once again tiptoed across the room. Her body, she realized, was sore, but in a pleasant way. It reminded her of the way the bodyguard had felt with her. In every way. She smiled, still able to feel the impression of his lips against her skin.

Kate, as naked as the day she was born, collected her toiletries and clothes. She went into the badly tiled bathroom and showered quickly. Her mind had finally detached itself from the naked man in the room next door and focused on the feeling that was sticking out like a sore thumb in her mind. It felt like a hunch, but she didn't yet know what it was and why it was suddenly bothering her so much. Since she was positive she wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep any time soon, she dressed in the clothes she'd packed for the convention without a second thought—a slightly sheer quarter-length sleeved burgundy blouse with a black camisole beneath that tucked right into wrinkle-free black slacks. Mind elsewhere still, she went through the motions of applying eyeliner, blush and dark red lipstick. She started to towel dry her hair when she remembered everything that had happened. Slowly she lowered the towel. Chances were attending the convention wouldn't be easy. It didn't seem like the couple was done yet, especially if they were working for anyone with half a brain. It wouldn't matter if they somehow were able to reverse engineer the drug. There wasn't enough time to do it before Kate presented her research.

She watched in the mirror as her expression hardened. She threw the towel over the shower rod and furiously brushed out her hair. When done, she gave herself one curt nod.

It was time to try to put an end to this.

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