Arms of Promise (3 page)

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Authors: Crystal Walton

BOOK: Arms of Promise
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He didn’t doubt she’d try. Which was exactly what worried him.

She tilted her chin. “I’ll be fine, Evan.”

So much for his skill of withstanding interrogations. If he didn’t up his game, she’d figure out why he was here within a matter of hours. He set his mug on the end table and rose. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course not.” She motioned toward the hall. “First door on your right.”

A rainforest shower curtain greeted him once he flipped on the light. Avoiding the wall directly behind him, he tried to ignore the eyes staring at him from the frog-shaped toilet paper holder.

He cracked a laugh. The whole apartment was probably as big as Anna’s bedroom at her dad’s place. Yet every inch of it bubbled with her personality. After all this time, she hadn’t lost herself. Could he say the same thing?

He washed his hands, tapped cool water over his cheeks, and gripped the doorknob. He wasn’t here to get attached to her again. For both their sakes, he couldn’t afford to. “Discipline on and off duty, O’Riley. Man up.” Letting out a breath, he opened the door and trekked back down the hall.

Anna swayed in front of the sink, humming to herself like she always did while doing chores.

His chest squeezed, the need to leave accelerating. “I should probably take off. I have somewhere to swing by before calling it a night.”

She spun around with her hands covered in suds and her eyes a dim shadow of their normal brightness. Man, she was killing him.

“Um, yeah, of course.” A glance at the clock tugged her smile down even more. She snagged a dish towel from the oven handle on her way toward him. “How long are you in town for?”

He forced his gaze up from his Skechers. “I have three weeks before my leave is up.”

Anna twisted the end of the towel around her finger and curled in her bottom lip. “Will I get to see you again before you leave?”

Her soft, vulnerable tone about did him in. He kneaded his shoulder blade.

“You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”

“Twenty-Third Street.”

She looked up. “What?”

He strode to the counter to jot the info on a sticky note. “I’m staying at the Extended Suites off Twenty-Third Street.” He gave her the slip of paper and crossed his arms before they brought her to him on their own. “I meant what I said earlier.” He met her eyes again, despite what it’d cost him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.”

The inflection in her voice prompted reactions he had no business feeling. He unlocked the deadbolt, stepped through the doorway, and inhaled before turning.

She leaned into the door. “Thanks for bringing me home.
And
for rescuing me earlier.” Her sweet laugh played around him in the quiet stairwell until the silence beckoned a response he didn’t know how to give.

Saying good-bye to her would never be easy, no matter the circumstance. His attention traveled around the hall, down the stairs, and back to Anna. He’d tell her to lock the door as soon as she closed it if she wouldn’t get defensive.

He was trained to turn fear into focus. But maybe it was better if he sheltered her from either. He returned her smile instead. “Good night, Anna.”

“Night.”

Evan stopped on the stairs until the
click
of the deadbolt latching echoed into the foyer. Having to be satisfied with that, he hurried down the last half of the steps and into the night’s biting air.

A chilled breeze barreling alongside the brick building collided with his overheated skin. Good thing he’d come home in early winter. Because if he was going to step up to look out for Anna until the Michelli case blew over, he’d need every ounce of help keeping his cool.

He nodded at the black town car across the street and climbed into his Accord. From behind the tinted windows, he scanned for any sign of the Suburban that’d tailed them on the way over. He must’ve lost them on that side street. But just in case, he did a perimeter sweep around the block before making the ten-minute drive from one difficult situation to another.

The same cutting wind from outside Anna’s place whipped him in the face the minute he stepped out of his car in the hospital’s parking lot. Yet somehow, the atmosphere felt thicker here. Harder to breathe. Even inside, the antiseptic-cleansed air didn’t free his lungs.

Same as the last few nights, Evan slowed on his way up the staircase. His feet knew the way to the third floor. Just like they knew where to stop on the fringe of a threshold he couldn’t cross.

He gripped the trim and closed his eyes. The beeping monitors and labored breathing overtaking Mom’s hospital room pressed in with the weight of Hernandez’s unanswered text. Would the decision to re-up or not even make a difference now? Was it too late? Maybe he should go back to Georgia early. Forget trying to make things right.

A slow exhale leaned Evan into the doorway and into the truth he couldn’t run from. Between the remorse at seeing Mom like this and the war of being near Anna again, the consequences of his failures didn’t leave him a choice. He had a promise to keep.

Chapter Three

Complicated

The echo of dumbbells clanking into their racks ricocheted off the gym’s ceiling and raced straight for Evan’s temples. Working out all morning should’ve cleared his head by now. Instead, Anna’s sweet smile and infectious voice from last night hijacked his thoughts.

His buddy Murphy looked up at him from the bench press. “Bro, I could say I just passed your record on reps, and you’d have no idea if I were lying.”

Evan’s fingers tightened above the barbell. He was supposed to be spotting Murphy, not letting himself get lost in questions that didn’t matter, anyway. “Sorry, man. I’m not on my A game today.”

“Girls will do that to you.” Murphy’s triceps shook while pressing the bar away from his chest. He was pushing himself to the limit, a soldier through and through.

Evan spaced out his legs. “Nothing to do with girls. I hardly saw Marissa last night.”

“Who said we were talking about the J Lo wannabe?”

“Don’t call her that, man.”

“Hey, I’m just keeping it real.”

Evan fixed a glare on him.

“Look, the girl’s fly. No question. But it only took me a few hours around her to see she’s a walking tabloid waiting to hit the stands.” Murphy clanked the bar into the notches and shook out his arms. “I don’t get why you’re with her.”

He wasn’t with her. Well, not exactly. She labeled them as a couple, but a few dates didn’t count as a relationship to him. And quite frankly, whatever might’ve been there ended for him before it ever really started. But if he were honest, he’d admit he let her come along on this trip for a reason.

A deep exhale rattled in his lungs. That wasn’t fair to Marissa. He needed to make it clear where they stood.

Murphy sat up on the bench, snagged a hand towel from his bag, and wiped his sweaty face. “You need to ditch her, bro. Especially when you could be with Anna right now.”

Biting back a comment, Evan rounded the bench and changed out the weights.

“Aw, c’mon, O’Riley. This is
the
Anna, right? Why you acting all Bruce Wayne on me? I’ve seen your bat cave. Don’t try to tell me you’re not in love with her.”

Evan banged the second weight into the first. “Ever wonder why you always got extra PT in Basic? It’s ‘cause you don’t know when to stop talking.”

Murphy laughed. “Just so you know. Brooding isn’t helping your case.” He stretched an arm behind his head and pressed down on his elbow.

If Murphy weren’t his boy, Evan would twist that thing right out of its socket. “There’s no
being
with Anna. She thinks of me as a brother. End of story.”

Murphy pivoted around on the bench and jutted his chin at him. “You kept the girl’s picture in the barracks like a lifeline. Sorry, bro. The we’re-just-friends card ain’t gonna fly.”

Evan craned his head back. Why didn’t he bring his headphones today?

Murphy raised his palms. “A’ight. A’ight. If you’re not into her, then I guess it’s cool for me to take a shot. Dating a dancer would be pretty hot. Especially those private sessions.” His notorious Casanova grin expanded beneath his bobbing brows.

Evan’s veins bulged on his forearms. “You know I’m a skilled marksman, right?”

“That’s what I thought.” He pitched a brow at him. “You really think you’re gonna pull off moonlighting as her undercover bodyguard?”

The guy never quit. “I don’t want to be in this situation any more than she would if she knew. But trust me. It’s better if she doesn’t.” Looking to him as a friend was better than how she’d see him if she knew the truth.

“Better for who? Sure you’re not protecting your heart instead of hers?”

The answer stung. He’d messed up the last five years being that selfish, staying on the periphery when he should’ve been by her side full-time. But with the Michelli case putting Anna in real danger, watching out for her from the sidelines wasn’t good enough anymore.

“Better for both of us.”

Evan grabbed his water bottle from the floor and chugged half of it down. The gym wasn’t helping. He needed a stress shoot out on the range.

Murphy planted a solid grasp on Evan’s shoulder. “Just trying to watch my boy’s back.”

“I know. You would’ve made a good Ranger.”

“Our RI didn’t seem to think so.” Murphy scratched his jaw.

“Yeah, well, he was a real . . .” The front door opened. A guy, five foot six, strode in carrying a duffel bag with two carabiners hanging from the handle. Probably a rock climber. Not a threat.

“Earth to O’Riley.” Murphy waved a hand in front of him. “You good?”

Evan shook it off and picked up his bag. “Yeah. I’m gonna hit the showers.” If he couldn’t sweat out his tension, maybe a hot shower would drain it instead.

In a bathroom full of steam, he braced a hand against the shower wall as jets of water beat into his tight muscles. He rotated his neck and rubbed off the water cascading down his face, but thoughts kept pouring in.

Murphy didn’t get it. Evan killed whatever remote chance there’d been of sharing a life with Anna the week her mom died. He wouldn’t risk jeopardizing what was left of her future. He’d keep his feelings off the table and get the job done without causing her any more pain.

It wasn’t that complicated. Anna needed surveillance whether she liked it or not, and he owed her that much.

Working the shampoo from his hair, Evan released a hard exhale. Images of her in those sweats with her bottom lip curled beneath her teeth washed over him without mercy. He turned the water all the way to cold but couldn’t shake the reality staring him in the face. After nineteen-hour days mastering the ability to operate under extreme physical and mental stress, it’d only taken one look at Anna to confirm he’d never mastered his heart.

Who was he kidding? Complicated didn’t begin to cover it.

 

 

Anna slid her leg warmers off and chucked them by her bag in the corner of the studio. Winding her braid into a bun, she crossed the floor to her iPod speaker dock to reset the song for the fifth time. If she didn’t start connecting with the choreography, she was going to scream.

She wiped the sweat rolling into her camisole bra top. Why did Evan have to show up now, of all weeks? With the bind she was in, a shot at making the Chicago Dance Crash company was her only hope at continuing what she and Mom had started together.

She couldn’t afford to repeat history. Couldn’t afford any distractions. Especially a gorgeous one who melted her insides just by calling her “Bells.”

Focus
. She tapped her fist to her forehead. Yet all it did was unleash images of Evan’s assuring eyes latching on to hers, as if the need to take care of her trumped any military op.

If Anna didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d be tempted to wish that look was for her alone instead of for Marissa or anyone at all who needed help. The sting of rejection she’d worked so hard to bury threatened to burn right through her walls.

Shaking it off, she spotted her focus in the mirror and restarted her audition piece from the top.

She dropped to the studio floor, rolled a quarter turn, and faced stage left. An upper body roll brought a silhouette from the doorway into view.

Heat spread through her until the sunlight streaming from the windows lit a face she recognized. Recovering, she gathered herself up and traipsed toward her iPod as her dance instructor, Mr. Jamison, strode in.

“You’re off today, Annabelle.”

If it was that obvious from only a short combination, it was worse than she thought. Anna dug her fingertips through the top of her hair. “I know.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Definitely not. Talking would only stir up more convoluted emotions she didn’t want or need to explore. “It’s just one of those days. Nothing to talk about.” She swept her things up from the corner, turned, and almost bumped into him.

Mr. Jamison gave her the stern teacher look he pulled off as if he were fifty instead of thirty-five. “Whatever it is, it’s not more important than your dance career.”

Tell that to her heart. Anna stared at her bag’s handle clutched under her fingers.

“I got a call from Vicky last night.”

Her head flashed up. “What’d she say?”

“They’re moving the auditions to the twenty-fifth.”

“Black Friday?” Not good. Reese would kill her if she bailed early on their Thanksgiving weekend plans.

“A snowstorm’s scheduled to hit on Saturday.” He shrugged. “They didn’t want to risk having to cancel.”

So, she’d have to audition after a full day off the floor. Great. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mr. Jamison cupped her arms and angled his face in front of hers until she had to meet his eyes. “Don’t stress. There’s not a single company that’d reject your technique. I wouldn’t have booked the audition if I didn’t think you were ready. The choreo’s there. The only thing holding you back is this.” He motioned to her head. “There’s no room for doubts on the dance floor.”

Anna nodded. After failing her audition for Hubbard Street Dance Chicago at the end of her senior year, she knew that better than anyone.

“Do you want to do some partner work before you leave?”

“Not today.” She slung her bag around her back.

He offered an understanding smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bright and early,” she called on her way to the bathroom.

The studio had been a refuge for her these last several years. It was enough. Why did life have to mess with that? And why did Evan have to be here to complicate it even more?

After patting down with a damp towel, Anna traded her tights for a pair of jeans, changed into a bulky sweater, and tugged on her tan boots. It might not have snowed yet, but the wind coming off the harbor didn’t know the difference. Just like her emotions didn’t heed the warning trying to knock some sense into her every time last night replayed in her head.

She could kick herself for asking to see Evan again like a doe-eyed girl on a first date. He had a model lookalike girlfriend, for crying out loud. Not to mention, he’d obviously left town for a reason. What made her think running into him yesterday changed any of that?

At the sink, Anna unraveled her braid, wishing her connection to him were as easy to undo. She had to throw away that paper with his number on it when she got home tonight. Plain and simple. He wasn’t the only one who could be laser focused. Mr. Jamison was right. On or off the floor, she had no room for second-guessing.

No room for daylight without coffee, either. A mocha was calling. Big time. If there were ever a day—scratch that—
a month
to splurge on comfort drinks, it was now.

Anna looped her infinity scarf around her neck while backing out the door into the blustery morning. The urge for a caffeine fix led her toward Forty-Second Street on her way to the rec center.

A guy in a long wool coat on the opposite sidewalk caught her eye. Something about the way he looked in her direction gave her goose bumps. He flicked a cigarette to the ground, and she would’ve sworn he nodded to someone behind her.

She shot a cautious glance over her shoulder to a burly guy a block away. Were they tailing her? Anger flared. If Dad had assigned her protection detail without telling her, the two of them were going to have words. A few choice ones, for sure. She’d made herself clear this time.

Mr. Trench Coat Wearer mirrored her strides. Still gripping her bag, Anna picked up her pace. A step ahead of her, the man reached the crosswalk first and hustled across the street.

A pang of apprehension coursed through her body. What if they weren’t her dad’s men?

Her pulse jumped into double time. Blood swooshed in her ears, amplifying each heartbeat. A rolling gate clattered open beside her at the same time a jackhammer drilled through pavement up the road. Noises crowded in from all angles, but none louder than the heavy footfalls gaining ground on her.

Adrenaline spiked. She cut around the corner. Ahead, two more bulky guys came out of a building. She stopped, heart pounding.

“Anna?” Evan lowered his sweatshirt hood.

Thank God
. She ran the last several feet separating them.

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