At the Edge (9 page)

ELEVEN

A
re you hurt?” he demanded.

She was still pulling the door shut as he peeled away from the curb.

“Answer me!”

“I'm—” She looked down at herself. Her knee was bleeding beneath the hem of her skirt. “I'm fine. What—”

“Seat belt,” he snapped, gunning the engine and racing for the intersection. He halted inches away from an SUV's bumper.

She looked at him. “What just happened?”

He reached over and dragged the seat belt across her lap. The light turned green, and he punched the gas. They sped around the corner, and Emma tipped sideways, gripping the dashboard for support. He sped up again, swerving around a delivery truck as he raced to catch up with the pickup.

Emma looked ahead but didn't see it.

“Hold on,” he ordered, careening around another corner. They skidded onto a wider road with a median down the middle. Emma looked ahead at the sea of taillights but didn't see the pickup.

“Fuck.” Ryan pounded the steering wheel.

“Stop! What the hell just happened?”

But he didn't stop, and he didn't say anything. He sped through another intersection, then swerved into a gas station and whipped into a parking space near the convenience store.

He shoved the truck into park and turned to her. He reached over and clutched the side of her head. “Are you all right?”

“I'm . . . yes, I'm okay.”

He dropped his hand and stared at her, his eyes flashing with intensity. “How long has someone been tailing you?”

She tried to process the words, but her heart was still racing a million miles an hour. “Tailing
me
?”

“How long?”

“I don't—”

“Cut the bullshit, Emma. Someone's been following you, and you damn well know it. How long?”

She gulped and looked down. The pads of her palms were bleeding, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She folded them in her lap and looked up through the windshield at the convenience store.

“I think . . . Thursday.” She looked at him. “That's the first time I noticed it.”

“Where?”

She stared at him.

“Where, Emma?”

“Palmeda Road.”

His eyebrows arched with surprise.

“I swung by your apartment,” she explained. “Just to see whether you were in town. I circled your block twice, and on the second pass, I noticed a car in my rearview mirror. I thought I'd seen it earlier.”

“A car, not a pickup?”

She nodded. “Then I noticed someone again Friday. A pickup truck this time. Gray. Maybe that same one from just now.” She glanced over her shoulder at the street behind them but failed to see a gray pickup. “It was parked outside my hotel, which wasn't really a big deal. The windows were tinted, but I could tell someone was sitting in the truck, and I felt like . . .” She looked down.

“You felt like what?”

“I don't know. Like he was watching. Not just people watching, but watching
me
specifically.” She'd been anxious ever since, jumping at shadows and checking over her shoulder.

“This was before I saw you?” His eyes were intense, his jaw tight. He was dressed much like the other night, in a black T-shirt that clung to his muscular chest, faded jeans, and scuffed leather work boots. But this was no pool-shooting playboy now. He was in warrior mode.

She nodded. “Yes, before. But I haven't noticed anyone since. Not until just now.”

He muttered a curse.

“We need to go back there, Ryan.”

“Why?” He threw the truck into gear and shot backward out of the space.

“We need to call the police. Report what happened. Maybe a witness saw a license plate.”

“There was no plate. I looked.” He pulled out of the parking lot and cast a glance at her.

“You looked,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When I followed him from your hotel.”

———

“When
you
followed
him
?”

He didn't answer. He figured she needed some time to digest that.

“Why were you at my hotel?” She looked wide-eyed and shocked.

“You were spooked about something at the bar the other night,” he told her. “I needed to see what it was. You didn't have a tail from O'Malley's, though.” He glanced at her. “And believe me, I checked.”

Silence fell over the truck as he let that sink in.

No, he hadn't gone back inside the bar.

Yes, he'd followed her home.

He took a turn, and she looked around like she was trying to get her bearings.

“We need to go back, Ryan.”

“No, we don't.”

“We have to report it!”

Maybe. But they could do it from a police station, not from some street corner where she would be standing there talking to a cop with a target on her back.

“Ryan, please.”

He sighed. “You really want to file a report? Because I'll tell you right now, it's going to be a pain in the ass.”

“We have to! Maybe there's surveillance footage that shows the front license plate. Or maybe someone saw the driver.”

It was a decent point, and as much as he dreaded the thought of wasting the next several hours of his life, he let her win this particular battle.

Because there was a bigger one coming, and she was going to fight him tooth and nail.

———

Ryan watched her walk out of the police station. She had a Band-Aid on her knee, a slip of paper in her hand, and her head bent over her cell phone. He muttered a curse.

“What's that?” Jake asked over the phone.

“She's done now. I have to go.”

“Okay, keep me in the loop, man.” Jake laughed. “And don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Ryan hung up on him and intercepted Emma as she reached the sidewalk.

“Who are you texting?” he asked.

“No one. I'm just getting down my case number.”

They walked to his truck and got in. She didn't seem shaken anymore, but she was definitely wired. She folded her arms over her chest and glowered at the windshield.

“They blew you off?”

She sneered. “Some patrol cop told me it was probably a drunk teenager.”

“Did you tell him who your father is?”

She looked at him. “What would that help?”

Ryan shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” It wouldn't have mattered anyway. San Diego PD wasn't going to fix this problem for her. Ryan pulled out of the lot and hung a right.

“Aren't we going back to my hotel?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Think that through, Emma. Someone's been following you for four days. Whoever it is tried to hurt you tonight.” Actually, he'd tried to kill her, but she knew that already. Ryan had seen the look on her face just seconds after it happened.

She stared through the windshield. “They know my hotel,” she said softly.

“Yes.”

“And thanks to me, they know your apartment on Palmeda.”

“Yes.”

“Then where are we going?”

“I know a safe place you can stay.”

“How long?”

“Depends.” He looked at her. “When's your flight leave?”

“My flight?” She hesitated. “I have an open ticket.”

It was a lie. He knew it the instant the words were out, just from the look on her face. What he didn't know was why she would lie to him about that particular detail.

They drove in silence for a while, and he felt her agitation growing. His was growing, too, but probably for different reasons. She was a mess again, with wild hair and skinned palms and makeup smudged under her eyes, and everything about her made him want to pull his truck over and haul her into his lap.

Instead, he pulled into a burger joint and reversed into a parking space that backed up to a brick building. He had a clear view of the parking lot and the road so he could keep an eye on things.

“Emma.” He looked at her, forcing himself to concentrate on her wide brown eyes and not her mouth or her breasts. “We need to talk.”

A shadow came over her face, and he knew she felt cornered.

“Why is someone trying to kill you?”

She glanced down.

“Look at me.”

She met his gaze and cleared her throat. “I think my questions have been making people . . . nervous.”

“Nervous doesn't explain a two-ton truck trying to mow you down.”

“I've been asking about the plane crash.”

“What about it?”

“We both know what happened, Ryan. You saw the wreckage. We took a
hit
.” She held his look. “I'm the sole survivor of that incident, and I'm not going to pretend I don't know what happened, not when I was
there
.”

Ryan heaved a sigh.

She refused to play it safe, and nothing he said was going to change her mind, at least for now.

And damned if he didn't admire her. Hewitt was right. She had balls.

He shoved his truck into gear and pulled around to the drive-through window. He ordered two cheeseburgers and turned to look at her. “Fries or rings?”

“Fries.”

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

She gave him a baleful look.

“Two fries, two chocolate shakes, and extra ketchup,” he told the speaker, and pulled forward to the window. “You call your dad yet?” he asked Emma.

“From the police station. Why?”

“Let me see your phone.”

She dug it from her purse and handed it over. It was in a stylish purple case with some designer's name on it. Ryan popped off the case.

“What are you doing?”

He opened his door and dropped the phone onto the cement.

“Ryan!”

He smashed it with the heel of his boot, and Emma gasped. Then he dug his own phone from his pocket and smashed it, too.

“Why did you do that?” Her cheeks were flushed now, and her eyes blazed.

He scooped up the pieces and examined them. When he was satisfied, he reached back and dumped them into the trash can near the pickup window.

The food was ready, and Ryan handed her a bag. She snatched it from his hands and stashed it on the floor by her feet.

“Your phone's a tracking device. So is mine.” He looked at her. “For the foreseeable future, that's something we can do without.”

———

Next stop was a dog park, where they pulled into a small parking lot and abandoned Ryan's truck for a white Toyota Tundra. Ryan reached under the floor mat and grabbed the key as Emma stashed the food bag and buckled herself in.

“Is this—”

“Jake's.”

“Where is he?”

“Around.”

Ryan adjusted the mirrors. Silence settled over them as he snaked his way through the city, taking side street after side street to make sure they didn't have a tail. When he was one-hundred-percent certain they were clear, he turned north and made his way through the hills of La Jolla. Emma stared out the window as he drove.

“Ryan.”

Her voice was low and serious, and he knew he wasn't going to like whatever she had to say.

“I don't know if this is a good idea.”

“If what is?” he asked.

“This. You being here, helping me. It's dangerous for you to get involved.”

He smiled and shook his head. It would have been funny if it wasn't so insulting.

“Ryan?”

He looked at her. “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.”

She didn't say anything else the rest of the way, and he felt grateful for the quiet. It gave him a chance to go over his plan. And steel himself for what was going to be a painful night, even worse than the one in the jungle, because he wasn't going to have weapons and helicopter extractions to distract him from what he wanted to do, what he'd been freaking burning to do since he'd first laid eyes on her.

They reached the top of a hill where every street was lined with narrow houses that had big windows facing the ocean. Ryan swung into a driveway and stopped at a solid black gate. He tapped a code into the keypad, and the gate slid open to reveal a driveway that sloped down steeply. The garage door was already lifting as he rolled through.

Emma shot him a baffled look.

Ryan smiled. “We're here.”

TWELVE

T
hey stepped into the dark house, and Ryan silenced the beeping alarm with another code he somehow knew. Emma could hardly see, but the smell of dryer sheets told her they were in a laundry room.

“Is this Jake's place?”

“No. Different friend. Kyle's Crew, too, though.”

“Kyle? Does he know we're here?”

“He's OCONUS. Out of the Continental United States.”

Which she took to mean no.

Ryan switched on a hall light and led her into a darkened living room that had a huge bay window with a sweeping view of the water. Emma was drawn toward the glass. She gazed out at the twinkling lights of the boats.

“Amazing,” she breathed.

“I know.”

He was standing close behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body even though the room was warm, too.

She turned around, and the intense look on his face sent a warm shiver through her. He eased closer, holding her gaze, and she couldn't believe they were standing in the dark together like this. She hadn't even expected to see him tonight.

Or ever again.

“What is it?” His voice was low.

“Nothing, just . . .” She looked out at the view again. “Kyle won't mind us staying here?”

“No.”

“How can you be sure?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “He owes me.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. She didn't bother with the other questions tumbling through her mind. What was Crew? And how did a military guy afford a place like this?

But Ryan was being tight-lipped, as usual. He walked into the kitchen and flipped on a light. Emma followed, checking out their surroundings. Her primary impression was
bachelor
. The narrow living room was stuffed with black leather furniture—a sofa and two big recliners—all centered around a huge TV mounted on the wall. There were few personal touches beyond a couple of pairs of running shoes near a back door. Emma walked over and peered through the glass to see a small patio with a raised deck and a hot tub.

“Quite the party house.”

Ryan lifted an eyebrow but didn't comment, and she tried to picture him hanging out here with his teammates and a keg of beer, the hot tub brimming with beautiful women in tiny bikinis. Or not. Just the thought of it made her slightly queasy.

“You hungry yet?” Ryan asked. He'd eaten his burger during their meandering drive, but Emma had tried one french fry and lost her appetite.

“Maybe later. There's something I need to ask you.”

He stashed the bag in the fridge and put her shake in the freezer. Then he turned to face her, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms over his big chest.

She took a deep breath and walked over, leaning her hip against the counter. The question had been stuck in her mind the whole way here, but she hadn't had the nerve to ask him.

“Why did you follow me home from O'Malley's?”

He watched her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “You were spooked about something.”

“So?”

“So that's not the kind of thing I can let go.”

What kind of thing
could
he let go? Not a lot, she guessed. He was extremely protective of the people in his life.

Did those people include her now?

Emma's heartbeat quickened. She didn't dare hope. It was a fantasy, just as it had been back in the rain forest. But the fantasy was even more dangerous now, because they were home and she was no longer part of his mission.

Home.

What did that even mean to him? Or to her, for that matter? She was at loose ends right now, between a job and graduate school. But even so, she was more grounded than he was, always leaving the country at a moment's notice to jump out of airplanes and dodge bullets. Emma stifled a shudder. She didn't want to even think about the risks he took in his job. No way could she have a relationship with this man. Or even a fling. It would be too intense. She'd get too attached.

And yet she couldn't stop thinking about the possibility.

He held her gaze, not moving. The way he stood with his arms crossed made his muscles bulge, and he reminded her of a bouncer. Except for his eyes. The look in them was far too intelligent, and at the moment he looked like he was trying to figure her out.

Yeah, good luck with that. She hadn't figured herself out. She felt like she was being drawn toward something hot and bright that she knew was going to burn her. But she couldn't move away.

She cleared her throat. “So . . . do you think Kyle would mind if I borrowed his shower?”

Heat flared in his eyes, but he didn't move a muscle. “Down the hall on the right.”

———

Ryan was staring at the pathetic contents of Kyle's fridge when he heard the bathroom door open at last. A few minutes later, she stepped into the kitchen with flushed cheeks and dewy skin, her hair in damp waves around her shoulders.

He grabbed a beer and leaned back against the counter to look at her as he popped the top. Her businesslike clothes were gone now, replaced by the oversized gray sweatshirt and cutoff shorts he'd found for her and left on Kyle's bed. It had been a supreme act of willpower not to step into that bathroom and leave them on the sink. But this night was going to be painful enough without the added visual of Emma's naked body in a steamy shower.

“Thanks for the clothes.” She opened the fridge and selected a bottle of water.

“No problem.”

“I guess Kyle has his share of female visitors.”

“You must have noticed the bedroom.” He smiled, wishing he'd seen her reaction to the handcuffs dangling from the headboard. He only hoped she hadn't opened any drawers. “There's a futon in the office if you'd rather sleep there.”

“I'll probably just crash on the sofa. I'm too wired to sleep anyway.” She twisted the top off the water and glanced around. Kyle didn't have any furniture in the kitchen, not even a bar stool. She hitched herself up onto the counter and let her legs dangle.

God help him, she had a toe ring.

“I heard you on the phone while I was in there,” she said.

He dragged his gaze up to her face. “Landline.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Jake. He's bringing over a rental car in the morning.”

Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Really.” He nodded at the phone on the counter. “And that reminds me, it's probably a good idea if you call your dad.”

She stiffened. “Why?”

“Because he's your dad.”

“So?”

“So he's probably worried about you. You should call him with an update. Or I can.”

“
No.
”

He arched his brows at her sharp tone.

“Look, just . . . drop it. Please? My dad's a difficult person. Promise me you'll let
me
handle him.”

He nodded, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you.”

Ryan took a swig of beer, watching her. She obviously had some hang-up with her father, but she didn't want to talk about it. At least, not with him.

She took a long sip of water and looked at him. “Tell me something. Why is Jake going to all this trouble?”

Ryan sighed. She still didn't get it. It wasn't trouble, not from their perspective. Jake was Crew. Kyle was Crew. If anyone asked for something, it was done, no question.

Not that there wouldn't be fallout from this. Ryan was going to catch endless shit from Jake for spending the night with Emma.

“It's not trouble,” he said.

She eyed him skeptically as she tipped back the bottle. “You guys are interesting.”

“How?”

“The way you work together, even when you aren't working.”

She rested the bottle on her knee, and Ryan noticed the swelling there beside her bandage. She was trying to ice her injury with the damn water bottle.

He set his beer down and opened a few drawers until he found some plastic bags. He filled one with ice and made a pack for her.

“Thanks.”

They were at eye level now, and those dark brown eyes drew him closer until he was standing between her knees, which was about the dead last place he should be.

He put his hand over hers and moved the ice pack to the inside of her knee. Her skin was still warm from the shower.

“Ryan.”

He glanced up. Her mouth was lush and full, and he liked the way it looked whenever she said his name. Her whole body was lush and full, and his hands itched to slide over those creamy thighs. Instead, he rested them on the counter on either side of her hips. “This is a bad idea.”

She tipped her chin up. “Why?”

He kissed her. He had to. But she must not have really expected it, because she gave a startled gasp as his mouth took hers. She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him close. She tasted so fucking good, and he felt himself sliding down the slippery slope to hell.

He couldn't do this.

He'd brought her here to protect her. Just like in the jungle, she'd been through a trauma, and she was shaken and scared and looking for something to hold on to—he knew that. But still he was kissing her, taking advantage of her, gliding his hands over the smooth skin of her legs, and he groaned with need as they parted for him. Her heels pressed into his back, pulling him closer as her fingernails dug into his scalp.

Her mouth was hot and sweet, and he knew he'd never get enough. He'd go away hungry like last time and spend the next days and weeks obsessed with her all over again. But he had to do it. He had to kiss her, just like he had to slide his hand under her sweatshirt and touch all that soft skin.

He glided his hand up to her breast, and the little moan she made sent a shot of lust straight to his groin. Her hands slid down his back to his jeans, and all he could think about was how long it would take to get her naked and under him so he could pound himself into her until he lost his mind. She arched her breast against his palm, and he felt like he was losing it already.

Jesus, he had to slow down. He couldn't nail this girl, as much as he wanted to. But he could make her feel good.
That
he could do.

———

Emma's heart lurched as he picked her up. Her legs clenched around him, and yet again he was carrying her, only this time their mouths were fused together. She'd thought he'd take her to the bedroom, but he went for the sofa instead, lowering her onto it and then dropping down on top of her. Her breath whooshed out. He pinned her with his hips, and the steely pressure of his erection sent hot tingles through her body as his thumb scraped over her nipple.

She pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Without missing a beat, he reached around and unclasped her bra, and when it was gone, she felt a sudden chill over her skin. She drew her arms over her breasts, but he took her wrists.

“No.”

He pinned her hands beside her head. He dipped his head down and took her nipple in his mouth, and the searing heat went straight to her core. The stubble on his chin rasped against her sensitive skin, sending delicious little shivers through her as he lavished attention on her breasts. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, unable to believe this was happening, that she was taking her clothes off with a man she barely knew.

But the thing was, she
did
know him. They'd skipped right over all the phony small talk. She'd told him embarrassing things, silly things, important things. She'd told him what to tell her father if she died—the last words she'd wanted anyone on earth to know she'd entrusted to
him
—and that was mere seconds before he'd sprinted her through gunfire and saved her life. And he'd saved it again tonight.

It was truly bizarre how he kept showing up in the right place at the right time. Maybe it was fate.

Or maybe she was using all of it as a rationalization to cave into temptation, temptation in the form of this huge, beautiful man who could make her do anything in the world if only he'd keep kissing her like that, pulling and suckling and teasing her until need expanded inside her and she thought she'd burst. She combed her fingers into his hair and gazed down at him, and he slid up to take her mouth again, even more fiercely than before, and Emma's insides started to throb.

They were doing this. It seemed so unlikely, but the hard pressure of him between her legs was amazingly real. He wanted her, and this was happening now, finally, after all her fantasizing.

She glided her hands down his back, then tugged up the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head to reveal all those hard muscles she'd been dreaming about.

“My God,” she breathed, tracing her finger over his chest.

He smiled slightly and bent back over her breasts. His kisses moved lower, and she felt a flutter of nerves as they neared her waist. She heard the snap of her shorts and felt a jolt of heat as his tongue dipped into her navel.

“Ryan.” She combed her fingers into his hair and tried to pull him up, and then his warm hand was sliding up her thigh and between her legs, and she instinctively arched into him.

“Oh my God.” It was good, too good. It shouldn't be this good yet, but it was, and she bucked and moaned beneath him. She heard the rasp of a zipper, and then he hooked his fingers into her shorts and panties and pulled them down her legs, and she was completely bare to him now. She watched his gaze move slowly over her body as that hungry look came into his eyes and his hands glided over her. He pressed his palm between her legs and took her mouth again, and the raw possessiveness of it sent a shock wave through her.

She
wanted
him to possess her, needed him to. She wanted all of him, not just his hand. But then he was teasing her, exploring her, making her dizzy with need.

“Ryan.”

“I've got you.” His kiss was deep and relentless as his hands stroked fire into her body.