Dance With Me (5 page)

As luck would have it, the waiter arrived at that moment with Rebecca’s coffee, and Rick was saved from having to figure out what to say.

Rebecca took a few sips of her coffee before she spoke again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all psycho.” She sighed. “I just feel so damn helpless.”

“I can understand that. Being frustrated and angry, I mean.” He swirled the coffee in his cup and tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t make him seem cold. He’d already been cold for so long, and at the very least he didn’t want her to see him that way. “See, I think that sometimes a few really bad people can make life hell for a lot of really good people. For some reason, the good people seem to stay at the mercy of the bad. And most people are basically good.”

“I don’t know about that.” Rebecca sipped her coffee delicately and licked a drop from her upper lip. His stomach bottomed out and he swallowed hard, waiting for her to continue, trying to focus on the conversation instead of her mouth. “I think it’s probably a pretty even mix of good and bad out there.” She paused and looked up, thoughtful. “But isn’t it the responsibility of good people to try eradicate evil? And if good people sit around doing nothing, doesn’t that essentially condone all the cruelty around them?”

Rick hesitated, unsure how to answer. She was right. The inaction of honest human beings was the reason evil existed. It was the reason he was covered in scars, why he could never go home. He was just one person, trying to pick up the slack for thousands. “Maybe. But most good, honest people are not going to take action because they’re afraid of being a casualty.”

Rebecca snorted. “That’s true. Most people don’t have the conviction to give up their life, even if it would save hundreds. Or thousands. Or even millions. I don’t know if I could either.”

Rick watched her sip her coffee again. What would she say if he told her? If she knew he’d given up his identity, family, and essentially his personal freedom to fight an unseen and largely unknown enemy? How would she react if he told her how many times he’d barely dodged death? That every day held the possibility of being the last day he lived? The maj…
Rick! Fucking Rick
bit his tongue against the urge to tell her. He’d never wanted to tell anyone before. Instead of confessing, he cleared his throat and asked, “So you’re a believer in the old ‘one life for many’ adage?”

“I think so.” She frowned at him. “I guess it depends on whose life it is.” She laughed suddenly, uncomfortably. “Wow, how did we get so serious over a cup of coffee?”

Rick made an attempt to laugh with her and responded, “Yeah, pretty deep.” He had that effect on people. Maybe it was a result of being deadly serious for so many years. But no one laughed and joked with him anymore.

“So, Rick, what sort of work are you in?”

Oh nothing exciting. I hunt terrorists and terrorist groups across the globe. I track them down and kill them, sometimes taking the lives of good and innocent people as collateral damage. I’m basically a government-trained assassin. You?

“Uh, I’m in construction.” Rick cleared his throat. “I hang drywall for housing and business developments.”

Rebecca nodded and said, “Decent work.”

“Yeah, it pays pretty well.” He knew it did. His father had hung drywall for years.
Had he retired yet?

“I’m a teacher. Second grade.”

“I know.” As soon as the words left his mouth he bit back a curse. What the fuck was wrong with him? He scrambled to explain. “Earlier, when you were talking about calling CPS for a kid I was pretty sure you meant a student.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding slowly. “For a minute there I was afraid you were a stalker.” She smiled brightly at him, and for a few seconds, Rick was unable to do anything more than bask in that smile.

Rebecca asked him a question and he didn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears. He shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She tilted her head to the side and laughed. “I asked if you’re new to the area.”

“Oh.” He racked his brain to come up with the answer. He couldn’t remember! He couldn’t fucking remember where he’d set up Rick Jones’ background.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Uh, sort of.” He gritted his teeth and tried to remember. But the freckles sprinkled across her nose distracted him, and he couldn’t think of anything but where else on her body she had freckles.

“That’s okay, be mysterious if you want.” She held her hands up and again gave him that smile that made his pants tighten.

Florida! Fucking Florida was where Rick was from. “Not trying to be mysterious. I’m not new to the East Coast. I’m from Florida. But I’m new to Virginia.” He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. When was the last time that had happened? Never. He’d never once gotten out of character or forgotten his cover while on a mission.

But she’s not your mission.
Exactly. Which is why he needed to get the hell out of dodge while he could.

“I love Florida. I go to Key West every New Year’s Eve.” She took a sip of her coffee and kept smiling at him.

Rick deliberately kept his eyes on hers, avoiding those plush lips and straight, white teeth that were killing him every time she smiled. “Family there?” He knew the answer, but wanted to see what she would say.

“Nah. Just sun, sand, fireworks, and champagne.” She shrugged and looked away.

Hmm. It made her skittish to talk about either family or Key West. Since she’d brought up Key West, he assumed it was the word "family" that made her look away. He pressed for more, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t. “So where are you from?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Virginia Beach is home.”

Rick let one side of his mouth curve upward in a half smile. She’d answered his question without answering at all. Smart girl.

Before he could inquire further, a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and Rebecca turned her head toward it. “Mmm,” she hummed softly and closed her eyes. “I love storms.”

“Yeah, me too.” His voice was hoarse and he took a gulp of the bitter coffee to clear his throat. Suddenly desperate to get away before he forgot his mission completely, Rick sat up and waved for the waiter to bring him the check. “We’d better get out of here before the storm hits.” It was a lame excuse and he knew it. But it was all he had.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Rebecca watched in silence as the waiter delivered the ticket and Rick paid it.

He was glad she didn’t ask any more questions, because the thought of all that fiery hair wet and dripping with rain was making his head spin. It made him think of her entire body soaked with rain, and how explosive sex would be with her during a storm. Outside. With lightning flashing around them. And rain, God, the rain soaking them as he plunged…
I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.

He stood and turned quickly, hoping she didn’t glance below his waist. This was insanity. He’d never lost control of his body like this before, so why was it happening now?

“Well, thanks for the coffee, Rick.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

He turned back to her, alarmed by the low tone of her voice. Rebecca was hurt, and trying very hard not to show it. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Dammit, this was why he avoided this shit!

Before Rick could respond though, she stood and pressed a quick peck on his mouth. When she placed those warm, lush lips against his, Rick battled the urge to wrap his arms around her and show her exactly how he liked to be kissed.

The brush of her lips against his ended quickly and with a sad smile Rebecca turned and walked away.

Rick reached up and rubbed the tension from the back of his neck in an attempt to banish Rebecca from his mind. He was usually able to shove things aside easily and focus. But thoughts of Rebecca were stubborn, her image clinging to the backs of his eyelids.
What the fuck?
Rick took a deep breath and concentrated.

Naseem Ayed Javid. Seventy-two bombings, murders, and assassinations in eight years. More than two thousand people dead. Controls terrorist activity in all of Europe, part of Asia, and has his hands in the Middle East. Born in Kuwait. Educated in England. No known pictures. Multiple alter egos. Location unknown. Suspected location London. Source of intel unknown. Multiple spies located throughout the intelligence community. Identities unknown.

The recitation helped push the curvy redhead from his mind, and Rick turned to look for his car. It wasn’t much, just a beat-up four-door sedan. Most people pictured Black Ops and spies driving around in hot rods, but that was so far from the truth it was almost funny. A hot rod stood out, left too much of a memory. No one noticed a four-door sedan, and blue was the least noticeable of all colors. The car would be damn near useless in a car chase, but in eleven years of undercover missions there hadn’t been a single chase to speak of.

Rick snorted. He wished. Racing through the streets of Karlovy Vary dodging bullets in a Lamborghini Diablo sounded like a rip-roaring good time to him. He tried to picture it as he slid into the car and started the ignition.

He’d need a woman sitting beside him in the Diablo to complete the James Bond image. Rebecca would do nicely, dressed up in a tight silver Bond-girl style dress showcasing all those delicious curves.

Once he’d saved the day and navigated them safely to a luxurious hotel—
Ha! Luxury, indeed
—she would show her unending gratitude by setting the sheets on fire with him. Rick sighed and shook his head, jerking himself from the silly little fantasy. He had to stop thinking about her that way. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman.

The problem was, he wasn’t
really
thinking of her in terms of wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. He hadn’t been thinking at all, especially when she smiled at him.

Rick shifted in the seat, then reached down to adjust himself.
This is fucking ridiculous.
A voluptuous redhead with a killer smile and adorable freckles was closer to thwarting the major than anyone had ever been before. He growled a little. He couldn’t see her again. Not ever. She was a distraction he could neither allow himself nor afford. He began his recitation again.

Naseem Ayed Javid…

* * * *

Rebecca slammed her front door and threw her purse down. Something was
not
right with Rick Jones. There had been a spark, she was sure of it. But he hadn’t acknowledged it, even when she’d given him that little peck on the lips. What kind of man did that?

Rebecca knew what a spark was. She’d felt it a few times, even though it had never led anywhere. Still, when it was there, it made for great sex. She hadn’t even had
good
sex in longer than she could remember. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had sex since her divorce, period. And with Rick, it would be good, maybe even great.

He tried to pull off a laid-back beachcomber look, but it didn’t work. He could dye his hair blond and wear baggy, button-up shirts all he wanted. Rebecca could see through it. He had the mannerisms and movements of a Uniform, but he wasn’t one. At the very least, he used to be.

Rebecca frowned and trudged toward her bathroom. She scraped her hair back violently until she could wrap a hair tie around the frizzy curls and tame them into a ponytail. Rick was hiding something and Rebecca wanted to know what it was before she pursued their friendship any more. Digging her phone out of her pocket, she fired off a text to Callie.

“U guys at Chris’s apt? Need 2 talk 2 u.”

She waited impatiently for the response, and jumped when her phone dinged.

“Yea, what’s up?”

Rebecca paused, unsure how much to reveal. Chris should know what it was about before she got there, in case he was going to freak out again. But how much did he need to know? Rebecca shrugged then responded.

“Its abt the neighbor. Rick.”

Several long minutes passed, during which Rebecca carefully picked the long red hairs out of her hairbrush before throwing them away. Finally, she got a response.

“Come on over.”

The drive was quick, no more than ten minutes, but the rain slowed her down a little. When Rebecca finally pulled into a parking space next to Chris’s truck and got out of her car, her hair was a frizzy mess again. She tightened her ponytail and marched up the stairs to the apartment.

The door opened before she could knock, and Chris glared down at her for a split second before grabbing her elbow and yanking her inside.

“Did he follow you?” He looked out the door and around the parking lot before closing and locking it. “He’s not waiting in the car, is he?”

Rebecca stared at Chris, dumbfounded.
Paranoid, much?
“What…?” She faltered, confused. Callie stood just inside and moved closer Chris.

“It’s okay. I doubt Rebecca would bring him here.” Callie looked at Rebecca with wide, pleading eyes that clearly said,
Please tell me you didn’t bring him here!

Rebecca shook her head and said, “No, of course not. I barely know him!”

“Good,” Chris ground out. “Stay the fuck away from him. He’s dangerous.”

Rebecca shook her head slowly. Rick hadn’t seemed dangerous, but then again…there was something odd about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. “I had coffee with him this afternoon. I just…” Rebecca knew she shouldn’t voice her next thought, but she’d never been very good at biting her tongue. “I kind of liked him. I wanted to ask you…”

“Stay. The fuck. Away. From him.” Chris growled at her, each word emphasized and angry.

Rebecca stepped back. Chris was an aggressive guy, but she’d never had that assertiveness turned to her so completely. It was unnerving and a little scary. “I-I just wanted to know why,” she stuttered.

Callie spoke then, placing a hand on Chris’s arm and turning sad eyes to Rebecca. “No, Rebecca. You don’t want to know. Just trust us on this, okay?”

“Yes, I do want to know!” Rebecca resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “I actually
like
him! Do you get that, Callie? The first man I have actually liked since Dillan, and you guys are telling me to stay away but won’t give me a reason.” Rebecca paused for a moment when Chris pointed his finger at her. He didn’t speak though. After a few seconds of the finger pointing, Chris fisted his hands by his side, pivoted, and stalked away. Rebecca turned to Callie. “I
know
something is off about him. I just don’t know what. And if you guys won’t tell me, then I won’t have any reason not to pursue this.”