Badass: Deadly Target (Complete): Military Romantic Suspense (4 page)

Parking the car in the garage down the street, I go through my bag, pulling out the envelope and key. I stare at the gun for a moment, then decide to leave it under the car seat. I don’t have a permit for the gun and I can just imagine a metal detector going off inside the bank. I pull out the journal as well, tucking it under the seat too. I’m not sure what I’ll be getting from the bank and it seems smarter to have plenty of room in my bag.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I hurry out to the sidewalk and then down the block to a set of large, imposing double doors. I smile at the man who holds the door open. On a normal day, I might have even flirted a little. He’s certainly handsome. Tall, dark, piercing blue eyes. And, good heavens. A dimple on his right cheek when he smiles.

But this isn’t a normal day, so I murmur a thank you and enter an impressive, historic building, judging from the amount of marble and dark wood used throughout. High ceilings allow for a great deal of echo, and my heels click along shiny marble tiles as I walk to one of the desks by the windows, away from the row of tellers.

“Hello,” I say, hoping my smile will project a confidence I don’t feel. “I’m here to access a safe deposit box and was wondering if you could help me.”

“What a coincidence — I’m here for the same thing.” I turn to face the man who held the door for me. I tilt my head back to look up at him. He’s even taller than I first thought.

“I see,” the gentleman behind the desk says. Russell Lunden, according to the name plate sitting right in front of me. “Well, I’m sure we can help the both of you.” He looks at me. “As you were here first, do you have a key and box number information? I’ll need a picture identification as well.”

I hold out the small silver key in my hand, the ice around it having melted, although it’s still cold to the touch. I pull out the papers Mom gave me, as well as my driver’s license, and hand them over. Mr. Lunden examines everything closely, tapping on his keyboard. I briefly wonder why Mom placed my name as a co-owner of the box. I wonder what other things she’s done that I’m not aware of.

I try to be patient as Lunden wades through his red tape, but feel the pressure of my promise to my mother weighing heavy on my shoulders. And my grief. What’s in that box that’s so important that she’d risk her life to protect it? I need to know. I need to know now.

When Lunden stands and gestures for me to follow, my knees feel weak with relief. I turn and run straight into the man standing behind me, my nose planting itself firmly in his hard chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, stumbling backwards, but am steadied by two strong hands on my shoulders. The envelope he was holding falls to the floor, and we bump heads as we simultaneously bend down to reach for it.

I’m back up in an instant, this time with my hand over my forehead, rubbing what will surely be a bruise. Mr. Gorgeous’ face turns red, but his blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Are you okay?” he asks, trying his best not to laugh. He pulls my hand away from my injury to give it a quick inspection.

After the stress of the last hour, I know my brain is overloaded, that’s the only justification I can give myself. As his fingers press around on my forehead, I burst out laughing and it isn’t a ladylike giggle. It’s a guffaw-snort-cackle that would have rivaled any witch. I can only thank God I don’t fart.

Whatever the sound, it must be contagious, because Mr. Gorgeous is soon howling too. His hands fall to my shoulders, whether to steady me or steady himself, I don’t know. Just when I think we’re both under control, we look at each other and are laughing again.

God, it feels so good. So good.

“Ahem.”

I glance over at the sound to see Mr. Lunden looking less than pleased. Maybe his too tight necktie has strangled his sense of humor. He taps his watch and I try, really try, to get myself under control. Then I look up into those beautiful blue eyes and that damn dimple pops out at me again. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but if I did, I’d ask that dimple to marry me.

Mr. Gorgeous’ eyes soften as he looks down at me and he lifts a hand and does the most surprising thing. He wipes at a tear that has leaked from the corner of my eye. With his other hand, he wipes away a tear on the other side of my face. I lose my breath at the touch, it’s so unexpected. So caring. So sensual.

Humor dies in an instant and something deep and hot takes its place. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but if I did… it would be him. This man. The one looking at me with so much tenderness right now.

“Ahem.”

With that single sound, the spell is broken and I inhale before stepping away. The inhalation is a big mistake because his scent — citrus and sandalwood and something I don’t recognize — is imprinted on my brain.

“Miss Hewitt, if you would follow me please.”

I hiccup and cover my mouth before mumbling, “Yes, of course.”

Looking back up at this tall man, I give him one more smile. This time a smile of gratitude for helping me feel alive, at least for the briefest of moments.

“Goodbye,” he says, and the rumble of his deep voice does something to my stomach, some unfamiliar twisty thing.

I swallow hard and pull my shit together. “Thank you for the laugh.”

I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but he looks sad for a moment. “You’re very welcome, it was good for me too.”

Quickly stepping away and managing not to hit him or anyone else, I follow the ramrod straight Mr. Lunden down a long hall. Just before I turn the first corner, I risk a glance over my shoulder. My stomach twists again in that unfamiliar but yummy way. He’s watching me, although he’s too far away now for me to read his eyes.

He smiles — God, that dimple — and lifts a hand as I step around the corner. I take another step and he’s gone.

Chapter 5 – Jax

Wow.

The single syllable is the only thing that makes its way through the white noise roaring around in my brain. Just wow.

Wow to those storm colored gray eyes.

Wow to those full, pink lips.

Wow to being able to laugh again.

Wow to being able to share that laugh with someone else.

I haven’t laughed like that since … since Laura.

The thought is a slap in the face.

For fuck’s sake, I just left my dead wife’s gravesite, on her fucking birthday no less, and here I am getting a hard on over some chick.

No, not some chick. This woman is more than that. Better than that.

“It’s okay, my angel.”

I whip around to see a young mother, holding her arms down to pick up a little girl who has fallen and is holding her hands around her small knee. The girl cries into her mom’s neck as she’s snuggled close.

Angel.

There can never be more than one angel in my life, and she’s a true angel now. A good reminder that I shouldn’t be gawking over other women. Especially women with slim shoulders that fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.

Shit.

But dammit. Her skin was so soft. The skin on her collarbones as I held her steady. The skin on her cheeks as I wiped the tears of laugher away.

What made me do that? Feel so protective of that woman so suddenly and so completely. I raise my thumb to my lips and taste her. Then quickly pull it away. What the fuck am I doing?

Overhead, the music changes and
Unforgettable
, the piano version, drills its familiar notes into my ears. Seriously? Right here, right now? It’s the song Laura and I selected for our first dance. I look up at the ceiling, at the heavens and mutter, “All right, all right, I hear you darlin’.”

I’ve felt her presence with me stronger than ever today.

I don’t even know if I really believe there is a heaven or angels or even a God. What I do know is I like the thought of heaven much better than the cold, cold ground. Imagining Laura with bright white wings flying from cloud to cloud in a golden city, surrounded by people who love her, is a much preferred visual than her corpse rotting in a box all alone.

“Now, how can I help you, sir?”

I turn to find that Mr. Lunden is back. Stepping closer to his desk, I hand him the warrant I picked up from the courthouse earlier. “I believe you’re expecting me,” I tell him. “Jax Hawthorne to seize the contents of box 237-534. I understand you’ll assist in the drill.”

The customer service smile slips from Lunden’s thin lips, and he looks down at the envelope in his hands. He rips it open and pulls out the warrant, then looks up at me again. He frowns, turns to his computer, and begins tapping away at his keyboard.

“Would you repeat that number?” he asks me.

I rattle it off, and his frown grows deeper. “Is there a problem, Mr. Lunden?”

He blinks rapidly behind an expensive looking pair of gold rimmed glasses, as if by doing so he can cause whatever he’s looking at to change. “No. Yes.” He exhales loudly. “Yes, there is, I’m afraid. The young lady I just served has accessed this precise box. She’s in the viewing room with it right—”

“Take me there,” I order, snatching the warrant from the desk and heading in the direction he and wow-girl went earlier.

“Mr. Hawthorne, you can’t go back there.”

I hear the clacking of his shoes on the marble floor behind me, but don’t stop. “This warrant says that I can. The CIA will back me up if you’d like to give them a call.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot a security guard heading our way. Rather than cause a scene, I stop and am rammed from the back by the little man. I roll my eyes and turn on him. “Mr. Lunden, are you familiar with Homeland Security?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Well, of course I am. Nothing is more important than the security of our cust—”

I cut off his infomercial. “Then you must know that I wouldn’t be here, attempting to seize the contents of that box if it wasn’t essential to our nation’s, and your customers’, security, correct?”

He blinks rapidly again. “Well, yes.”

The security guard arrives at our side. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

I don’t take my eyes off of Lunden. “Is there, Mr. Lunden?”

Looking exceedingly flustered, he blinks at me, then the guard, then down at the warrant. “No, Henry. I’m just seeing Mr. Hawthorne to his safe deposit box.”

Henry scowls. “Would you like me to escort you?”

Lunden pulls his thin shoulders back, his chin rising in indignation. “No, thank you. I’m perfectly capable of escorting a customer through our fine establishment.”

Henry turns and grumbles something under his breath. Lunden whirls around and stomps down the hall. We descend a flight of steps and head down another hallway. I follow him to a door marked “C.”

“Now, Mr. Hawthorne, as the box you wish to seize is now inside this room, you need permission to—”

I reach around him and push open the door. Stepping inside quickly, I turn to Lunden. “Thank you very much for your assistance. The nation thanks you.” He opens his mouth to speak, but the closing door shuts him off.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a scrape of a chair on marble and by the time I turn, wow-girl is on her feet. Her eyes grow wide as she realizes it’s me. She’s been crying. Her eyes are wet and tears are dripping from her chin. She wipes them away with the back of her hand and demands, “What do you want?”

Quickly taking in the room, I see the safe deposit box sitting on the table. It hasn’t been opened yet, and there’s a small pool of water on its top. Her tears, I realize and look back at her. But as much as I want to comfort her, I have a job to do.

Holding the warrant up for her to see, I declare, “By the orders of Homeland Security, I have authority to seize the contents of that box.”

She gasps and moves back to the table, placing her hand on its top. “You most certainly don’t,” she snaps, her chin lifting in defiance.

I waggle the paper in the air. “This says I do.”

She holds out her hand, and I step forward to place it in her palm. She opens it, scanning the letter. When her eyes flick back up at me, mutiny has turned them a darker gray. “This says that you have the right to seize this property from Sacramento Bank and Trust’s possession.” She picks up the box and stuffs it into some big ass bag sitting on the table. “It’s no longer in their possession, so that piece of paper is useless.”

As I watch, she crumples the warrant into a ball and tosses it at my chest.

Chapter 6 – Mia

My heart is like a jackhammer in my chest as I face Mr. Gorgeous. His dimple has disappeared, and a menacing scowl has taken its place.

He catches the paper I’ve thrown at him and is now uncrumpling it, doing his best to press out the wrinkles. I watch his long fingers caress the paper and shiver. I look away, knowing I really need to pull my shit together.

Not certain what else to do, I snatch up the envelope I received from my mother and heave my now heavy bag onto my shoulder. On shaky legs, I round the table, attempting to look menacing myself.
I’m going out that door, and you can’t stop me.
That’s the message I hope my face is delivering.

Clearly, it’s saying
I’m a scared little girl
, because he only steps to his left, effectively blocking my way.

“Please move,” I say, in a snooty, almost British sounding voice that I’ve never used before in my life. I clear my throat. “Now.” That’s better. I try to reach around him, but he doesn’t move, and I end up with my nose almost pressed into his arm pit. God. Citrus and sandalwood. I move back a few steps.

“That’s not going to happen, Miss…” he lifts a brow in question.

I ignore it. “Are you kidnapping me? Holding me against my will? I might not be all Men in Black like you are…” his brows furrow as he looks down at his black jacket and khaki pants, “…but I’m familiar enough with the law to know that it’s illegal for you to do so.”

He doesn’t move. After a minute of us eying each other, I have a burst of inspiration. Setting the bag back on the table, I start digging. “I’ll call the police and have you arrested for—”

I jump when his big hand slams down on the table. “Go ahead, we can share cells.”

Gaping at him, I bluster, “W-why me? I’m not the brute trying to scare an innocent woman half to death.”