Born Wild (3 page)

No. If he was honest with himself, no, it wasn't her fault. After all, she'd been so very young. So very young and so very naïve. Really, looking back on it now, he realized he shouldn't have been shocked when she cut him loose.

Then again, the
way
she'd cut him loose was another matter entirely…

Sighing, he pushed all that old pain and disappointment aside and allowed his expression to soften as he nodded. “Yes, Eve, I believe you. Something about this whole mess stinks.”

“And this time,” Ace smirked, “it isn't your attitude.”

Bill frowned. “You're really pushing my buttons today, Ace-hole.” Usually the nickname was guaranteed to wipe the smile from Ace's face.

Unfortunately, this time it had the opposite effect. The pilot's grin only widened. “So I've noticed.”

Eve glanced back and forth between the two of them, blinking in confusion.

Then, Mac cut in, distracting her from the testosterone-laden staring contest with, “I'm gonna make a call to Washington and see if I can get my hands on your case files.”

“Washington?” she asked.

“Chief Washington of the CPD,” Mac explained.

“Oh, you don't have to do that. Jeremy's made copies of everything. He'd be happy to share anything he has with you.”

“Okay, then.” Mac nodded, and Bill couldn't help but doubt just how
happy
Jeremy Buchanan would be to share
anything
, much less his police files. “In the meantime, I think it's probably best if you move out of your cousin's place and move in here with us.”

At this little announcement, Bill's ulcer, the one he'd been so sure he'd finally beaten once and for all, raised its ugly head and took a bite out of his stomach lining. Pressing a hand below his breastbone, he grimaced and tried to ignore the uncertainty in Eve's eyes when she slowly, hesitantly searched his face. And as much as this was going to suck gargantuan donkey balls, he said, “Mac's right. I'll take you over to your cousin's so you can pack a bag. And then, once you're back here and we've looked over your files, we can decide how to proceed.”

She swallowed, her eyes bright with gratitude, and he remembered the first time he ever saw her. He'd been home on an extended leave from the Navy, waiting for the time he'd be called up for the SEAL training, and he'd gone to one of his sister's summer league track meets to pass the time…

There'd she'd been, Evelyn Rose Edens, crossing the finish line after running the women's 3000 meters. She'd looked like a gazelle, all lithe and sleek, legs a mile and a half long. He'd asked Becky to introduce him, and Eve had been so shy she'd barely been able to meet his gaze. But when she finally did look up at him?

Total gut check.

Her flushed, delicate face had been pure perfection, and her eyes? Well, they were the deepest, most amazing blue he'd ever seen. And he'd fallen. Right then and there it was game over for him, because her expression, so sweet and innocent, so sheltered, had all his protective instincts surging to the surface. He'd wanted nothing more than to throw an arm around her shoulders and keep her safe. Forever…

Well, forever had turned out to be a remarkably short length of time. The span of one sultry, sun-and-blue-ball-filled summer.

“Th-thank you, Billy,” she stuttered, dragging his mind back to the present. She was twelve years older now. A divorcee. A well-respected and renowned marine biologist. A self-defense prodigy, by the sounds of it. And, yet…she still appeared so sweet and innocent. And, with one look, she still made everything inside him want to stand up, chest-beating, spear-waving, and protect her from the big, bad world.

How
does
she
do
that?

He shook his head, at himself, at this clusterfuck of a situation, and murmured, “You're welcome.” Then, lest she get the wrong idea and think he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart—because, come on, when it came to her and his heart, there wasn't much goodness left—he added, “Becky'd never forgive me if I turned you away in your hour of need.”

Whatever light had been in her eyes dimmed. She nodded jerkily before saying, “I'm going to run to the restroom. Then I'll be ready to go to Jeremy's to pack a bag.”

Watching her disappear down the long hall, he wondered how the hell he was going to handle the next few days when Mac looked over at him, heavy brow furrowed. “What's that look for?” he demanded.

“You want to tell us why you turn into a total Neanderthal whenever she's around?” Mac hooked a thumb in the general direction of the hallway.

“Now, why in the world would I do that? What are we? Girlfriends or something?”

Ace leaned across the table and patted Bill's fingers, batting his blond lashes fervently. “Only if you want to be, handsome.”

Bill snatched his hand away but couldn't quite control the smile that tugged at his lips. “Cut it out,” he grumbled, trying and failing to paste on a fierce frown. “Don't you have bon-bons to eat and an episode of
Glee
to watch?”

“As a matter of fact…” Ace snatched up the box of chocolates, winking dramatically before sauntering over to the stairs leading to the living area on the third floor. But he stopped on the first tread, turning, his expression suddenly somber. “Seriously, though” he nodded, “if you guys need me for anything, you know where to find me. And Bill?”

Bill sighed, because he knew what was coming. It was written all over Ace's face. “Yeah?”

“You be nice to Eve. That poor woman is starved for affection. So why don't you try a little tenderness, huh?”

“And who the hell are you, now?” he groused. “Otis Redding?”

“No, I'm just saying from the way you amble around this place on all fours, you're probably not one for a gentle touch.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bill asked. “Well, I've got some advice for you, too. I've written it down. It's right here in my pocket.” He dug into the hip pocket of his jeans and came out with an empty fist and a raised middle finger.

Ace laughed, then immediately sobered. “Let me put it to you this way. If you're mean to Eve, I might have to rearrange that pearly white smile of yours,
capiche
?”

And the threat would've been funny except for the fact that Ace was a master at Muay Thai, the most brutal form of hand-to-hand combat in the world. The guy might come off as intimidating as a glitter unicorn sitting under a rainbow at a Justin Bieber concert, but Bill wouldn't want to find himself on the man's bad side.

“I'll be nice to her,” he promised through clenched teeth, because as much as he hated to admit it, Ace was right. It was time to let bygones be bygones. For Christ's sake, it'd been
twelve
years!

The Knights' resident flyboy turned his head, eyeing Bill suspiciously.

“Look,” Bill huffed with exasperation, “the thing is, I've never been good when it comes to lobbing around sugar and spice and everything nice. But I'm telling you I'm going to
try
, okay?”

Ace's smile was victorious as he nodded once before turning to clomp up the stairs.

Then Eve reappeared at the end of the hallway, looking as beautiful as he remembered—scratch that; looking even
more
beautiful than he remembered—and all the old hurts came rushing back with brutal force. It made him realize just how difficult it was going to be to keep his word.

Jeremy Buchanan's Condo

5:33 p.m.

“I could keep you safe,” Jeremy declared, hugging her tightly, and Eve felt her lower lip quiver. “I could hire bodyguards. I could take some time off work. You name it, Cuz, and I'll do it.”

“No,” she shook her head, stepping from Jeremy's fierce embrace, taking comfort in the unwavering look of support on his face. “I'm going to go stay at Black Knights Inc. until we can either find out who's doing this, or at the very least convince your associates in the police department that I'm not crazy. I promise you, I'll be safer there.”

Jeremy snorted, glancing past her shoulder at Billy, who was standing sentry at the balcony door in faded jeans, clunky biker boots, and that skin-tight BKI T-shirt that emphasized his washboard belly and made her internal temperature jump about ten degrees.

Ten degrees? Okay, so it was more like ten
thousand
. But who was counting anyway? Not her. No, sir. No how. She was
not
counting.

All right, so maybe she was counting a little bit. It was hard not to when he was caught in a ray of sunlight, looking for all the world like something out of a
Sons
of
Anarchy
episode—just with far less facial hair and pinky rings, and a far more deadly determination gleaming in his dark eyes—as he scanned the street below.

“You'll be safer with a bunch of bikers?” Jeremy's incredulity was palpable. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Oh…
that.

Okay, so she couldn't very well tell him the truth about Black Knights Inc.; she'd been sworn to secrecy. Which meant she was left with no recourse but to give him just enough information to assuage his fears. “They have a ten-foot-high brick wall surrounding the place and twenty-four hour surveillance. It's like a flippin' fort there. So don't worry.”

“I'm not so worried about somebody breaking into the place,” Jeremy's lips pursed. “I'm more worried about what you'll have to put up with in regards to Mr. No-Neck over there.” He tilted his chin toward Billy. “I see the years haven't improved his manners any.”

She shook her head. “You never liked him, did you?”

“He was never worthy of you, Eve.”

She searched her cousin's eyes, so much like her own, and frowned. “You've been listening to Dad too much, Jeremy. Elitism doesn't suit you.”

“It's not elitism, Cuz. It's pure, unadulterated fact. And I'd have known that with or without your father's input. That man's a grade-A prick. Pardon my language.”

“No pardon necessary,” Billy piped up from his position by the balcony door. Eve blushed from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. So much for what she'd thought was a private conversation.
Note
to
self: Billy has the hearing of a bat.
“Assuming,” Billy continued, “that you're using grade-A prick as a technical term.”

“When I'm speaking of you,” Jeremy raised his voice, although it was apparent there was no need, “I most certainly am. And if you so much as look sideways at my cousin, I promise you I'll—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy's tone was bored. “You'll beat me longer and harder than you beat that gherkin-sized dick of yours. I get it.”

Jeremy took a step in Billy's direction, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Remember you insulted him first,” she whispered.

“He's a dickwad,” Jeremy hissed.

“More technical terminology, I'm assuming,” Billy mused, brow raised, sardonic grin on his lips.

Eve decided it was time to get the heck out of Dodge. Which brought her around to the
second
reason why she'd stopped by Jeremy's condo. “I, uh…” She hesitated. Because her dear, sweet cousin was already upset by her decision to leave his protection in favor of the Knights' and she didn't want to prick his ego further with her next request—he was big and cocky and all about playing the hero, which made it sort of funny that he and Billy didn't get along because they were so very much alike—but she didn't see any way around it. Jeremy had done everything he could to prove she wasn't just being paranoid about her growing list of “accidents.” Now it was time to let someone else take a stab at it. “I need my case files,” she finally blurted.

Jeremy's chin jerked back. “What? Why?”

“Because we've got an ex-FBI agent working for us,” Billy answered, still staring out the balcony door in narrow-eyed concentration. “And he might be able to see something in her files that you and your fellow CPD boys couldn't.”

“Yeah, and I might be onboard with that except the part where this guy is an
ex
,” he stressed the word, frowning, “FBI agent.”

Eve stepped in before the two of them could start slinging insults again. Grabbing her cousin's arm, she looked up at him imploringly, “Please, Jeremy. You've done everything you know to do and—”

“I could try to talk to my captain again,” he interrupted. “I could—”

“Get yourself fired,” Eve said, shaking her head. “Your captain has had enough. He agrees with the fire department and the investigator on the case. There's no evidence. You can't keep harping on him. You can't keep questioning his judgment. He's the only true friend you've got down at that station. Believe me, you don't want to mess with that.”

The fact that Jeremy had chosen to become a police officer when he'd inherited enough money to keep him footloose and fancy free for life had caused more than a few problems for him at work. Most cops, who struggled to get by from paycheck to paycheck, couldn't understand why Jeremy chose to risk his life on the force every day instead of whiling away his hours on a beach. But Eve understood. A person needed a purpose, something worth waking up for every morning. And Jeremy's purpose was to be a hero…

She watched his cheeks hollow and his chin twitch from side to side as he considered her words. Then he cursed, and she knew she'd won.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I'll go get them.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, his expensive cologne tickling her nose. “And I'll call you tomorrow to let you know how things are going.”

“You sure you want to do this?” he pressed, searching her face.

Um, no?
She didn't
want
to do any of it. What she
wanted
was a char-free condo and a Vespa that had brakes, but those two things were no longer options.

“I'll be fine,” she assured him, avoiding his question. “I trust the Black Knights to keep me safe. Plus,” and she was going to go straight to hell for this lie, but she knew it would go a long way in easing her cousin's misgivings, “Becky will there.”

A hint of relief flashed behind his eyes. “Okay,” he nodded. “But if things change, or if you catch too much flak from that one,” again he jerked his chin toward Billy, “then you call me.”

“I will.” She smiled, squeezing his arm and taking a deep breath before shouldering her purse and overnight bag.

A warm breeze wafted into the condo when Billy opened the balcony door, bringing with it the hot smell of summer, of fresh-cut grass, heavily blooming flowers, and steaming pavement. It ruffled Billy's thick, dark hair like playful fingers. But somehow he still managed to pull off that whole mean and menacing thing. Which was good, she supposed. Because mean and menacing was exactly the kind of man she needed right now. And, perhaps, if she was honest with herself, it was the kind of man she'd needed all along. Or more specifically,
he
was the kind of man she'd needed all along. It crushed her to think about all she'd lost that night during her freshman year in college when she finally caved to her father's wishes and agreed to go out with Robert Parish's son, Blake.

One night out with the big-time land-developer's pride-and-joy had changed her life. Forever…

“When we reach the street, I want you to stay behind me,” Billy murmured once she'd crossed the room to him, wrenching her from her unpleasant thoughts.

“Why?” When she glanced up into his hard, handsome face, she didn't like what she saw there. She figured this was probably the expression he wore during those times he was knee-deep inside the wiry innards of an IED.

And, yes, it still blew her mind to know that Billy'd spent nearly a decade either making things go
kaboom
or disarming things that went
kaboom
.

Talk about having a set of brass balls.
Geez
Louise.

“There's a car parked on the street out front,” he said, his voice disconcertingly calm, especially when compared to his I-eat-metal-shavings-for-lunch expression. “There's someone in the front seat…watching this condo.” A chill snaked up her spine despite the heat of the day. “I can't make out who it is. Jeremy,” he raised his voice when Jeremy reentered the room with a manila file folder tucked up under his arm, “you carrying?”

“Of course.” Her cousin jogged over to them, instantly on alert.
See
, they were so much alike. “What's up?”

“See that black SUV parked across the street?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy nodded after craning his head through the open door. “What's the score?”

The atmosphere was vibrating with masculine tension, and Eve fancied she could actually
taste
the testosterone hanging in the air like a mist.

“The score is someone's real interested in this place, and I want to make sure whoever it is doesn't get a shot at Eve,” Billy said. The last part of his sentence made her dizzy.

A shot at her…

He was afraid someone was out there ready to take a
shot
at her!

Holy
crap
, this was just too surreal. She'd never done anything to anyone. At least not something that would warrant an extra hole in her head. In fact, the only instance where she could recall being purposefully mean to someone was that time in kindergarten when she ripped up Curtis Forsythe's Thanksgiving craft project—the turkey made from his handprint and construction paper—because he kept pulling her pigtails.

But, surely
that
wasn't enough to deserve a bullet in the brain…

“Once we're downstairs, we're going to edge out the front door, keeping Eve behind us until we make the Hummer,” Billy instructed. “When we're on our way, if that Chevy takes off after us, which I'm pretty sure it will, I want you to use your connections with the CPD to run the plates.”

“You don't think it'd be better to leave Eve up here? Let you and me go down there and question this fucker?”

“Nope,” Billy shook his head, causing a dark brown lock to fall across his wide forehead.

And, great. Now was
not
the time to be thinking of how incredibly sexy he was, to be remembering what it felt like to run her fingers through his silky hair after it'd been warmed by the summer sun and tousled by a friendly breeze, but there you go. Because those were the exact thoughts scrolling through her head.

For
Pete's sake, Eve. Even after all the nasty things he's said to you in the past year, you still get all gooey-bellied and jelly-kneed around him? What the heck is the matter with you?

She refused to contemplate the answer to that question. She had enough on her plate right now without dealing with her ever-present feelings for one William Wesley Reichert.

Case in point…“I want to find out who this is without them knowing we're on to them,” Billy told Jeremy. “So we're going to stroll out there, calm as you please, like you're just seeing us out. Savvy?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Jeremy snorted, playing off Billy's Jack Sparrow jargon as they turned for the door.

And,
huzzah!
Eve mentally patted herself on the back for picking up on that reference, because she wasn't much of a moviegoer. As a girl, her father hadn't liked the idea of her sitting in a darkened theater where anyone and everyone with an eye toward ransom could sneak up and grab her. And then, after she'd become an adult, a
single
adult, sitting alone in the gloom, eating too-salty popcorn while being surrounded by all those starry-eyed couples just reminded her of everything she'd lost when she'd lost Billy.

But in
this
case, she was well-schooled on Johnny Depp's Captain Jack lingo because after having been held hostage by Somali pirates, Becky'd thought it would be a hoot to hold a
Pirates
of
the
Caribbean
movie marathon—complete with eye patches, fake parrots, and little chocolates in the shape of gold coins. So Eve could “who drank all the rum?” and “I've got a jar of dirt!” right along with the best of them.

Of course, not even good ol' Johnny Depp could bring more than a short-lived smile to her lips right then because the fact remained that she was in danger. Maybe
imminent
danger. She gnawed on her bottom lip during the too-short elevator ride to the bottom floor. Then, after they'd shuffled across the well-appointed lobby, it was time for the show. Or maybe the show
down
was the better way to put it.

Oh geez. Oh geez…

She repeated the mantra like a pathetic prayer when they edged out the front door as a unit, Jeremy and Billy creating a wall of living flesh in front of her. She instinctively grabbed the back of Billy's waistband, hooking her fingers into a belt loop and marveling at the warmth of him, at the sheer strength of the muscles in his lower back as they bunched with his steps and brushed across her knuckles. It was the first time she'd touched him in months. And, okay, so she could admit she'd missed his nearness
waayyy
more than she should have, especially considering how things stood between them. But she could also admit that while the sensation of his hard flesh against the back of her hand was titillating, it was also comforting. Giving her the strength to keep from faltering as they crossed the street to the parked Hummer.