Her Forbidden Hero (4 page)

His voice came out gruff. “Seems like a million years ago.”

Suddenly the moment felt bigger and more weighted than the simple words they’d exchanged. The urge to hug him surged through her. “Sometimes it does,” she whispered. “Sometimes it seems like yesterday.”

Marco looked down the hall, his eyes going distant, as if he saw something beyond the painted concrete walls surrounding them. Something about his expression and the set of his big shoulders made him look like a man carrying the weight of the world on his back. Her breath caught as an inexplicable sadness descended over her, and her body was moving without a conscious decision to do so.

She wrapped her arms around his back, buried her face against the hard muscle of his chest, and clenched her eyes shut, fighting off tears she couldn’t fully explain.

His arms came around her slowly. “What’s this for, Aly-girl?”

“Because I missed you.” She breathed in his masculine scent, all clean soap and warm citrus. God, what would it be like to burrow under his shirt and press her cheek, her lips to his skin? Dizziness threatened at the thought.

“Me, too.” He patted her on the back.

The kind of pat intended to end a hug.

Letting go of him and her fantasy of where such a hug might lead, Alyssa stepped back. She smiled and met his gaze. Which was on fire. Blazing blue set against the olive tone of his skin. She blinked, and the expression was gone.

Part of her thought she must’ve been dreaming, but another part said what she’d seen had been real. Shaking her head, she said, “Silly it is, then. Lead the way.”

They exited to the staff parking lot, the night air still warm, and Marco pointed out the driveway that circled the building so she could park back there tomorrow. She scanned the lot, looking, looking. There!

“You still have her!” She skipped in front of him and turned, almost jogging backward. “Are you ever going to let me drive her?”

A hint of a smile on his face, he tossed his keys in the air. “You know the answer to that.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve got a perfectly clean driving record. No tickets. No accidents.”

She turned and skipped up to the black ’67 Mustang Marco had inherited from his grandfather. She bent over and hugged the car, her hand and cheek on the still-heated glass of the windshield. How many good times had she and Brady and Marco had in this car? “Hi, Betty,” she cooed, using the pet name bestowed by his granddad. “How have you been, old girl?”

Marco gave a weird choked cough and cleared his throat.

“What?” She stepped back. “You weren’t the only one I missed.”

“I see that.” He unlocked and opened her door. “And I approve. One of the reasons we’ve always been such good friends is because you get Betty.”

She slipped into the seat. “How could you not get Betty?” Marco’s low chuckle made it to her ears as he closed her door. Marco’s grandfather had prided himself on maintaining it in pristine condition, which Marco clearly continued. And, oh, man, it smelled of rich leather just like she remembered. She loved that—how some places just had a scent, one that brought so many memories to mind.

Marco settled into the driver’s seat and turned the key, bringing that lovely growling engine to life. He eased the car from the spot and crossed the lot to the driveway that ran along the side of Whiskey’s.

Had he always looked so damn sexy behind the wheel of this car? She dragged a quick gaze over him, taking in the sweep of his lashes and angled jaw that stood out in profile, and then over the thick bunching of his shoulders to his long fingers wrapped around the wheel. And she knew the answer to that question. She’d just never thought to ask it until now.

The drive to the front of the building took all of thirty seconds, of course, but Alyssa found herself glad for them nonetheless. He braked beside her car, which looked even more pitiful next to Betty. “Thanks,” she said, collecting her purse and reaching for the handle.

His hand grasped her arm. “You’re sure you’ve got a place to stay? You’re not at your dad’s, right?”

Her stomach soured at the thought. “Oh, God, no. I have a place.” Or she
would
have a place, once she checked in.

“And you’re okay to do that? I’m not trying to, uh, you know…” He clenched his eyes and heaved a breath. “Shit. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

Alyssa frowned at the sudden anger that seemed to pour off him, not able for the life of her to understand its source. She also noticed he didn’t offer up his place, and that made her want to give Kim a big kiss for ensuring she’d have enough money to get a room that night. And maybe tomorrow, too, depending on how cheap of a rate she could find. She forced a casual tone. “It’s just until I move into an apartment. I have a little money.”

How little, he didn’t need to know.

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. G’night.”

Alyssa climbed out of the car, settled into the driver’s seat of the Corolla, and rolled down the window to wave Marco off, but he refused to go. Giving up, she pulled out. He followed her down Route 40 until she veered into the drive of a random hotel. When she turned into the lot, he blew the horn as he passed behind her.

No way she could afford this place, but he didn’t need to know that, either. As soon as his taillights disappeared around the corner, she slowly pulled back onto the road.

Each new stop made her shoulders sag. By the third hotel, she was nervously eyeballing her half-full gas gauge and forcing herself to accept she could only afford one night. For now. Which was fine. She’d figure it out.

The room she finally got had a hideous floral bedspread and too-dim lighting, but it was clean and air-conditioned, and that was everything Alyssa required at the moment.

Resilience was the biggest lesson her childhood had taught her. Things always worked out in the end. And, after all, she’d get a paycheck in a week. She didn’t have long before she’d be able to get on her feet—or at least start to.

…

The explosion was deafening, and then the world lurched and flipped.

“No, no, no!” Marco gasped awake, his own voice and a deep sense of foreboding yanking him into panicked consciousness. The smell of smoke and charred flesh filling his nose, he fell back against his pillow, damp with sweat. It was the same thing every damn night.

Jesus.

He couldn’t decide which was worse: the raging hard-on he’d had half the night over the image of Alyssa bent over the hood of his car or the soul-stealing nightmares of the disaster that had left him less than a whole man. Both left his body aching. Both made it impossible to sleep worth a shit.

Only one he could control. He needed to rein in his dick where his best friend’s little sister was concerned. What was that fantasy about anyway?

Not letting himself answer his own question, he shoved out of bed and got himself ready for a run. Since he’d been well enough, physical training had been a key component of pulling his head together, and one of the only things that gave him a taste of his old life. Nothing cleared his mind like pounding out five miles, and the sun was shining brightly enough to just maybe have a shot at brightening his mood.

Doubtful, especially with the heat of humiliation still flowing through him after tripping over words in front of Alyssa. Twice. He’d felt like such an idiot, sitting in his car unable to come up with the word
pry
, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know whether to hope she hadn’t noticed or that she had and it would warn her away.

Humidity hung in the morning air when he stepped outside. His thoughts were so tangled, he didn’t notice the passing scenery as he ran himself into the ground. Those damn nightmares were like a puzzle he could never solve, filled with blank spots and missing pieces—just like his memory. He knew enough to be certain an error in his judgment had brought an end to his career and three good men’s lives. Maybe his brain conjured the details, maybe it didn’t. Either way, the dreams always sent him screaming into bleary-eyed wakefulness and left him hung over with a sense of failure that felt like suffocation.

His thoughts drifted to his team, the one he’d lived and fought with for four years. Good men—no, great men—every last one. Men in whose hands you could place your life and know they’d give their own to protect it. Men who made sacrifices of food and sleep and blood and family so others could have those things in spades. Men who defended liberty and battled oppression by any means necessary. He used to be one of those men.

No more.

Goddammit all to hell.

As he passed the high school, the memory of his last visit there came to mind. Alyssa’s graduation. Man, he’d been proud of her. He’d given her a stuffed bear and a pair of small diamond earrings, and she’d acted like they were the greatest presents she’d ever received. That night, when Brady presented her with the used car he’d saved up for, she’d taken the bear with her for her inaugural drive. He wondered if she still had that bear. One thing was for certain—she still had the earrings, because she’d been wearing them at Whiskey’s the day before. That shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.

Forty minutes later, he returned to the little house he’d been renting. Renting, not owned. Nothing in his life was permanent anymore; he’d made sure of it. Hands braced on his knees, he watched two droplets of sweat splash to the sidewalk.

This yearning for what he could never be and never have was pointless. Not to mention pathetic. And that included Alyssa Scott. Not that he was thinking of acting on those midnight fantasies, but clearly his body couldn’t tell the difference between a woman he could have and one he had no business wanting.

He stalked inside, the air-conditioning like ice against his sweaty, sun-heated skin, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge that he drained in one long drink. The next order of business was a shower.

The rough spray beat down on him for long minutes and eased some of the tension from his muscles, but not enough to keep him from thinking about Alyssa. If there was anyone who meant as much to him as his teammates, it was her. You just didn’t forget a lifetime of protecting and caring for someone, especially someone so sweet and kind. And not only that. Alyssa had always been one of his biggest cheerleaders. From attending all his high school baseball games, to giving him little gifts when he passed the four stages of the Special Forces qualification course, to sending him letters and the occasional care package when he’d been in the army.

In her own way, Alyssa had always been there for him, too.

She was going to be so disappointed when she learned what he’d become. Or, not become.

So he wouldn’t let her.

Still, he couldn’t let anything happen to her—just maybe he could manage not to fuck up the protection of a single woman.

But he also couldn’t let her get too close.

Goddamn Whiskey’s. Of all places, why’d she have to get a job there? As if worrying about the patrons on a rowdy show night wasn’t bad enough, he now had the guys at lunch yesterday tripping all over themselves to catch her eye. And she didn’t even realize what she was doing to them.

Note to self: beat some damn sense into Brady for letting this happen
.

But, fine. He’d keep an eye out for her. But he’d also keep his distance.

His body, his pride, his whole friggin’ sense of worth had already taken hits that might yet prove fatal. No way was he opening up his heart, too.

Fuck’s sake.

What did his heart have to do with it? Okay, no question he’d always loved her—their history made sure of that—but this was his best friend’s little sister he was talking about. A girl who had grown up in his house, well, a lot of the time. Not someone he could have or fall in love with. Not someone he could ever expect to shoulder his baggage.

Brady would kick his ass from here to Sunday if he ever hurt Alyssa. And then Marco would kick his own ass for good measure.

Marco stepped out of the shower and pulled on his jeans and T-shirt for work, a plan forming in his mind. No more chitchatting with her. No more rides in Betty. No more letting her hug him—that one was critical.

Simple as pie.

After all, he’d been in the United States Army Special Forces, fuck you very much. You might take the man out of the SF, but you couldn’t take the SF out of the man. He’d been up against some of the world’s meanest and toughest. So, goddamn straight he could work his way around one young woman.

Right? Right.

Outside, he approached Betty, pointedly avoiding looking at the hood. And wasn’t his inability to keep his gaze away just a slap in the pants? Jesus. But, whatever. It was fine. He had a plan, and all he needed to do was stick to it. It shouldn’t be that hard.