Enemy Outside (Unseen Enemy Book 2) (3 page)

Greg huffed.

“So, the conference room is this way!” Cordelia twinkled. “Follow me, please.”

The five men trooped down the hallway after her and she stood aside. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks, hon,” Dean said. “We won’t be staying that long.”

She winked at him and he grinned back.

Greg sat. “So. What’s the problem?”

“I told you. Olivia’s stalker,” Dallas said.

Greg made an impatient sound in his throat. “We’ve assessed him and decided that he’s not a significant threat.”

“No?” Dallas’ voice was deceptively soft. “Then maybe you can explain to me just why that ‘not significant threat’ ended up standing in Olivia’s living room last night, while she was home all alone?”

“Sorry. He what?”

“Yeah. She had to lock herself in the bathroom and wait for me to get to her.”

“How the fuck did he get in?”

“Well, geez, Greg,” Dallas said. “I kind of thought as head of Olivia’s security detail,
you’d
have the answer to that, huh?”

“Fuck you, Foreman.” Greg got to his feet, turned to leave the conference room.

Dallas moved so fast, Greg didn’t have time to do more than raise his hand, and he did even that too late. Before he quite knew what was going on, Dallas had him pinned up against the wall, his massive forearm pressed hard on Greg’s throat. He thrust his face in to Greg’s.

“Let’s try this again, yeah?”

Greg made a choking sound.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, shall I?” He pressed down and Greg’s face turned red. “Shall I?”

“Y – y – yes,” Greg choked out.

“OK, good. So. As I was saying, as the
former
head of Olivia Jameson’s security detail, you’ll have all the information on her stalker readily available to hand over to me, the
new
head of her security detail. Isn’t that right?”

Greg nodded.

“And you’ll be very pleased to give me all of that before I go. Correct?”

Greg nodded again. He was now turning a strange color of purple.

“Hey, man,” Chris observed. “Maybe let up. Just a touch.”

Dallas leaned back slightly and Greg sucked in some air. “So, me and the boys will be out in the waiting area, enjoying a cup of coffee with Cordelia – who you really should treat more nicely, by the way – while you gather all the intel you have. I want it all, Wallace… every note, every e-mail, every record of every single fucking text and image that sick prick ever sent her. Times, dates, places. Anybody you talked to and suspected; anybody you even
considered
maybe talking to and suspecting. Everything. Am I being sufficiently clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it all to you. Twenty minutes.”

Dallas removed his arm. “Perfect.”

**

It was less than seventeen minutes later that Greg emerged from his office with several folders, a floor plan of Olivia’s house, and half-a-dozen USB drives. He almost threw it all at Dallas.

“That’s everything,” he said.

“Thank you so much,” Dallas said. “Olivia asked you to please send her your final invoice and she’ll settle it immediately.”

Greg glowered and left the room without another word.

The men nodded at Cordelia and she got to her feet. “Mr. Foreman?”

“Dallas, hon.”

“Dallas.” She hesitated. “If you ever need a PA or receptionist experienced in personal security, maybe you’ll keep me in mind?”

He paused. “You looking to change jobs, Cordelia?”

She nodded.

“Can’t blame you, really,” Chris said. “He’s not very nice, is he?”

She shook her head. “But I get medical here, and my son is very sick. I – I’ve been looking for something else, but most places don’t offer the right kind of insurance for our situation.”

“What’s wrong with your son?” Jim asked softly.

“Cancer,” she said. “A brain tumor.”

That stopped them. After seeing what Emma was up against with her leukemia, they had a whole new understanding and appreciation for what that illness did to people – both the patients and their loved ones. They looked at the gray streaks in her dark hair, the shadows and lines around her brown eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dallas said. “Maybe you can come by on Monday morning for an interview?”

Cordelia started. “Really?”

“Really.” Dallas gave her his card. “Ten o’clock?”

“Yes… yes, thank you.” Her eyes were teary again. "And if you see Liv, please tell her how glad I am that she’s OK.”

“Maybe you can tell her yourself, Cordelia,” Dallas said. “She’ll be at my office on Monday, helping us to get up-to-speed on her stalker situation.” He grinned. “With a bit of luck, you’ll be working with her again soon.”

**

Emma and Olivia looked up as Dean and Dallas walked through the door.

“Hey,” Emma said. “How’d it go?”

Dean shrugged off his coat. “Good.” He came over to Emma, ran his hand affectionately through her short hair. “How you feeling, baby?”

“Really good.”

“You eat today?”

She nodded.

Dallas’ eyes were trained on Olivia. “You doing OK?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a smile that was almost completely normal. “Did you get everything from Greg?”

“Yeah. Can we go back to my place and look through it all? I want to know if anything’s missing, or not right.”

“Sure.” Olivia got to her feet. “See you later, Em. Bye, Dean.”

“Bye,” they said and watched Dallas and Olivia leave. They looked at each other.

“
Sooooooo
,” Emma said. “She stayed at his place last night…”

“I know.” Dean grinned. “I kind of thought maybe they’d finally gotten together.”

“Me too!” Emma said. “But no.”

“Not yet,” Dean said. “It looks like they’ll be spending lots of time together, though, so maybe it’ll still happen.”

“I hope so.” Emma sighed. “I think they’d be good as a couple.”

Dean sat down, pulled her in to his lap. “Yeah, me too.”

She saw the look on his face and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met, retreated, met again. She moaned against his mouth and shifted on his lap. He touched her cheek, knowing what she wanted, but still not sure she was ready. She’d been in isolation for a month after her bone marrow transplant, and had been weak since being discharged from the hospital the week before.

“You sure you feel OK to make love, angel?”

“I’m sure.” Her dark blue eyes were bright in her beautiful face. “I want you. Please, Dean.”

“I want you too, baby.” He stood up, cradled her in his huge arms. “I always want you.”

He carried her down to his bedroom, set her gently on the bed. She lay there, her beautiful eyes hazy with lust, as he peeled off his t-shirt and kicked off his jeans. Her breath caught at the sight of that broad, strong chest; his erect cock was pushing his boxer shorts out and away from his body. He lowered them and she sighed with pleasure. He was just so gorgeous, every single inch of him, and she watched as he rolled on a condom. With fumbling fingers, Emma started to undress, but Dean stopped her.

“I want to,” he said, his voice husky.

She lowered her hands back to the bed, her pussy open and aching for him to fill her. He stretched his body next to hers and pulled her close.

As he kissed her, he slowly pulled off her clothes, stroking her smooth skin. He ran his hands over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs. As he inched closer to her hot centre, Emma started to arch her back on the bed, longing for his touch there. When his fingers found her lower lips and gently parted them, she gave a small scream.

“Easy, honey,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He turned Emma over carefully on to her side, pressed up against her back. She felt his hardness between her thighs and she shifted to give him better access. His one arm was raised above them, the other was wrapped around her waist, his hand between her legs. She pushed back against him, hard, as his finger slid inside her, slid out, slid back in. He kissed her neck and she gasped as heat rose in her shaking body.

Dean couldn’t believe how wet she was; how ready. He trembled with the need to stay in control, to go slow. He ran his tongue over her shoulders and throat and plunged his finger in to her pussy with a steady rhythm. Her hips moved on his finger, riding it, and his cock gave a spasm when he thought how good it was going to feel to make love to her properly.

She was moaning now, her eyes closed, her head thrown back on his strong shoulder. Gripping her in place, he thrust a second finger inside her, used his thumb to gently circle her clit.

Emma let out a low cry. “Dean!”

“Shhh, baby,” he murmured in her ear. “Let go, Emma. I want you to come for me, angel. I want to feel it.”

She was close, he knew. Her whole small body was tensing up, tighter and tighter, and her pussy muscles were pulling on his fingers. He sped up his plunges now, pressed on her taut bundle of nerves harder. She moved faster too, her movements wilder and more abandoned as her climax built inside her.

Unable to wait one second longer, Dean parted her thighs farther and in a single motion, thrust his cock deep inside her heat. Emma cried out, so close to the edge now, her orgasm just out of her reach. He withdrew, plunged back in, felt her body take him in fully, pull on him. He kept his thumb firmly on her clit as he made love to her, and she started to whimper and pant, seconds away from coming.

“It’s so good,” she said, barely aware that she was speaking. “Dean, oh,
God
. Dean!”

Her body was rocked by the intensity of her climax and she clenched and released, over and over again, riding the wave of pleasure. Crazed with the need to come, Dean gave a final, deep thrust and released inside her, his mouth pressed against her heaving shoulders, his powerful body shaking.

Slowly, his thundering heartbeat slowed and her body relaxed. Dean stroked her hair gently, ran his other hand up and down the curve of her hip. He pulled her as close as he could and she turned her face to his, her eyes full of tears. But she was smiling, so he was sure he hadn’t hurt her.

“Those good tears, baby?” Dean asked.

“Very good,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed her and she sighed against his mouth.

Emma turned away from him now and he adjusted the pillow under her head, covered her body with the covers. He started to pull out, but she tightened her thighs around him.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Stay inside me for a while longer. Please?”

He kissed her neck. “OK.”

Emma closed her eyes as Dean wrapped his large arms around her, holding her close and tight. She was exhausted again, and felt herself drifting off to sleep. She hated how quickly and often her cancer wiped her out, but if she was going to be tired out by something, she figured it might as well be from making love to Dean.

He heard her breath slowing, felt her body go still against his. Gently, he pulled out of her now and she didn’t protest. He lay behind her quietly and held her until he was sure she was asleep. Then he closed his eyes too, let himself relax completely with Emma, loving her more every day.

The closest thing to heaven on earth, I swear it.

Chapter Three

Katherine Lawrence stared at the calendar in the staff room, shocked to realize that she’d actually been in Denver for almost a year.

You never stay anywhere this long… where the hell did time go?

But Kat knew full well where time had gone: as soon as she’d found out about Emma’s cancer six months earlier, she’d decided to stay as long as Emma needed her. It had been a surprisingly easy decision, all things considered and despite the risk she was taking by not moving on. The fact was that Emma, Liv and Jenny had become incredibly important to her, and Kat would never leave any of them in a time of crisis. Not even for her own peace of mind.

But it’s not just the girls keeping you here, is it?

His face appeared in front of her now: handsome, tough, uncompromising. Golden eyes, like liquid amber; short, dark hair. Broad shoulders, strong arms, an amazing chest that she longed to be pressed up against. A slow smile, seen rarely; a deep, husky voice that made her shiver when he said her name.

Jim.

Not that Kat expected anything to ever happen between the two of them, of course, even if she felt ready to be with a man again. Jim may be sex on legs, but he was also as impossible as hell. Stubborn and suspicious, he was openly hostile to most people, but he’d been nothing short of amazing about anything to do with Emma’s illness.

It had been Jim who’d brought Emma to the salon where Kat worked when Emma’s hair was falling out from chemotherapy. Kat still remembered Jim sitting there holding Emma’s hand while she cut off all that long, beautiful, dark hair. He’d been comforting to Emma, surprisingly gentle with Jenny, supportive of Kat and Liv. Whatever demons he was carrying around – and Kat suspected they had to do with his time in Afghanistan – he never let them affect how he treated the women.

“Hey, Kat?”

She turned to see her boss Benny standing behind her. “Yeah?”

“Jim’s here to see you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest, but years of practice at hiding her thoughts and feelings came to her rescue now, and helped her keep her face totally impassive. “Oh, OK. Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Sure thing.”

Kat checked herself out in the mirror. She had dyed her hair just that morning, and it was now a sultry chocolate brown with vibrant red streaks. It looked good with her dark green eyes, but aesthetics were absolutely not the consideration when she constantly cut and dyed her hair, or when she had glossy blonde extensions infused. It was all about keeping her safe.

What people assumed, of course, was that she changed her hair every two weeks or so because she worked in a hair salon. Benny’s philosophy was that a good stylist showed his or her clients different styles and colors and lengths, and encouraged them to try something new. Kat’s enthusiasm for changing her hair meshed perfectly with Benny’s idea, so their working relationship was heaven-sent for both of them. Add the fact that Kat wasn’t even on the books and got paid in cash, thereby saving Benny paying tax or medical, and everyone was thrilled with the arrangement.

She took a deep breath and walked out in to the salon. She saw Jim standing there looking totally out of place in the room full of mirrors, curlers, and bottles of product. His body and demeanor and tattoos suggested that Jim would be totally at home carrying a machine gun on patrol in Kabul. And actually, Kat was certain that Jim Alden
had
been at ease in that faraway part of the world. In his element, in a way: wild and dangerous.

Those fierce, golden eyes fixed on her as she approached him. Then he smiled
that
smile, and it took all her self-control to just smile back and not throw herself in his arms.

“Hey, Kat,” he said.

“Hey, Jim.”

He gestured at her hair. “Brown today, huh? I like the red.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” She cocked her head. “So – how come you’re here?”

“Can we talk somewhere?” he asked. “Somewhere quiet?”

Kat looked at him, saw that something was bothering him. “Sure. Maybe the café next door?”

“You’re not busy now?”

“No. I have thirty minutes until my next client.”

“OK, so let’s go.”

Jim held the door for her and they walked in to the late-autumn chill. Kat shivered, thinking that the air felt like snow. She hated this time of year; what had happened to her had happened almost exactly four years before, in the early winter, on a gray day much like today. She shook her head, trying to stop the thoughts from creeping up on her.

She stepped in to the warmth of the café gratefully, then sat at a table and watched Jim at the counter. The man looked just as good from behind, she thought, with his back muscles clearly visible through his shirt. And the man had an ass that just wouldn’t quit.

Argh. Eyes up, girl.

Jim turned from the counter, their coffees in his hands, and he looked across the busy room at Kat. As always, she was almost totally motionless and still. He’d never met anyone with the ability to remove herself so completely from a room that she was still physically in. Kat was an expert at disappearing and hiding in plain sight, and Jim had wondered more than once how she’d perfected that skill. And why.

Jim knew that he was a suspicious bastard and that he saw enemies and dangers everywhere, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Kat was just… off. Like she wasn’t being totally straight with anybody, not even her friends. Like she put lots of thought in to every single word she said; like she weighed and measured every syllable before uttering a peep. She was holding back, he truly believed, and Jim wanted to shake her up by just coming straight out and asking her what she was hiding.

But as someone holding on to his own secrets and with things he preferred to not discuss, he didn’t think he really had any right to push anyone else to disclose anything. So, he bided his time and watched. Maybe one day she’d slip up and he’d get some sense of what was going on with her. Until then, he could wait.

Kat looked up as Jim came back to the table. She smiled and took her coffee. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He sat down and took a sip of his own coffee. “So, listen. I wanted to come and tell you about Liv.”

Kat stared at him, a feeling of dread moving through her chest. “What’s wrong? Is she OK?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, she is. But she had a bad scare last night, and a few things have come out since. She asked me to come and talk to you, since she’s at Dallas’ place right now, going over everything with him.”

Kat fought to stay calm. “OK…”

As Jim told her about Liv’s stalker, Kat felt the color drain from her face. Her hands trembled so much that she couldn’t bring her cup to her mouth, so she just clutched it tightly, grateful for the warmth on her chilled fingers. The thought that Liv had been threatened for months scared her; knowing that whoever it was had gotten as far as Liv’s living room terrified her. Kat knew exactly how frightened Liv must have been the night before – Kat knew all about being trapped in a bathroom with a man just outside it intent on harming her.

Jim looked at Kat, worried. She was pale and shaking and seemed to almost be on the verge of passing out. Slowly, he reached out and touched her hand. She jumped and pulled it away, but not before he’d felt how cold it was.

“Kat?’ he said. “You OK?”

She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yeah… just freaked out for Liv.”

Jim believed that she was, but he didn’t believe that was the whole story. “OK,” he said, then hesitated. He wanted to ask her what else was going through that steel trap of a mind of hers, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

Not now, man. She has to go back to work in a few minutes, and I get the feeling this is a much, much longer conversation
.

Kat tried to focus. “Do Emma and Jenny know?”

“Liv told Emma this morning, over at Dean’s place. And Chris is at the restaurant telling Jenny right now.”

She managed a feeble grin. “So you guys split up the tasks, huh? And I guess you drew the short straw?”

He laughed and despite her shock and horror she couldn’t help but smile at him; his laugh was even rarer than his smile and she always loved to hear it.

“You know it, sweetheart,” he said.

**

Chris Brooker pulled up in front of Jenny’s restaurant and squinted through the massive window, noticing that as usual, every single table looked taken. He knew that this place served up one hell of a Saturday Brunch, and even though he couldn’t actually afford it himself on his garage mechanic’s salary, he’d certainly heard of it. ’Jenny’s’ was famous far beyond the Denver city limits.

He walked in to the restaurant and saw Pedro, one of Jenny’s wait staff. Pedro grinned over at him and waved towards one of the high stools at the bar. Chris sat down and right away, Deanna brought him a coffee.

“Hey, Chris,” she said. “You here for brunch?”

“I wish,” he said. “You know I ain’t got that kind of cash, girl.”

“Yeah. Me neither. I just nibble from the edges of the buffet when nobody’s looking.”

They smiled at each other, and as always, Deanna took in his amazing body. She wondered how it would feel to be up against that chest, in those arms. And don’t get her started on the rest of him: clear gray eyes that were steady and gentle, full lips, close-cropped blond hair.

The man may not be in active military service anymore, but dear Lord, he hasn’t lost one inch of muscle, has he? Ummm
.

From his side, Chris knew that Deanna was a good-looking woman, but she wasn’t really his type. Too thin, for starters; Chris was a big guy, and he liked to be with women with generous curves, women he could get in to bed with and not worry about breaking them in half.

Jenny was his ideal, actually, with her almost perfect hourglass figure. Slim shoulders, gently-sloped breasts, a waist he was sure he could circle his large hands around. Then an ass that flared out in a firm curve, thighs that just begged for him to crawl in between them. Add in Jenny’s long blonde hair and blue eyes, and you had Chris’ idea of the perfect woman.

He knew that not everyone agreed with him, including Jenny herself; more than once, she’d called herself fat and he’d gently corrected her. He’d read a few articles about her in some bullshit hipster foodie magazines, and he’d seen her compared to Nigella Lawson – both favorably and not-so-much.

Her fans and sycophants nattered on about Jenny’s warmth as a person and genuine love of color and flavor and fun, creative food combinations. Her critics and snarky idiots wondered if she was aspiring to be the ‘American Nigella’… right down to the fat ass and tree-trunk thighs.

It made his blood boil that anyone would think it OK to criticize such a sweet, giving woman, but freedom of expression and all that. Chris was a big believer in individual rights, and he supposed that included the right to be an utter asshole, if that’s what you chose to do with your time on earth.

“So you here to see Jenny?” Deanna asked him.

Chris nodded. “She around?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Of course,” he said. “She really busy?”

“No, everything’s pretty much done for the brunch. I think she’s just supervising the start of the prep for the catering job tomorrow.”

“A wedding?”

“Yep,” Deanna said. “You want to go back and see her?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Dee.”

“Sure,” she said to his back, admiring those broad shoulders under his black leather jacket.

Chris nodded at a few of the staff members as he headed to the kitchen. He was pretty well-known at Jenny’s now, and he found he kind of liked that. The people here made a change from ex-Rangers and bikers; God knows his life was populated with plenty of them, and that was cool. But spending time with wait staff who knew every type of wine under the sun and pastry chefs who could prepare delicate desserts from scratch was an education in itself.

He entered the bustling kitchen, looked around. There she was, and for a few seconds, he just watched her. In the kitchen, the woman was a force to be reckoned with, and he loved to see Jenny in her element. She was confident and in total control, and she ran her staff with more precision than some military operations Chris had been involved in. She looked calm and happy, totally centered and at ease. He wished she could look like that all the time.

But the truth was that despite knowing Jenny for just over four months, and having been there to support her through Emma’s illness, Chris had never touched Jenny. Not once, not ever. He’d hugged Emma, of course, many times. Liv too, and even Kat, who was the ultimate tough girl with a ‘don’t fucking get near me’ sign emblazoned on her forehead. But Jenny? No way.

Of the four guys, Chris was the closest to Jenny. He spent the most time with her and often drove her from the restaurant to Emma’s on food deliveries after Emma’s chemo sessions. Without any major discussion about it, the boys knew instinctively that she was comfortable with Chris in a way that she just wasn’t with the rest of them, and they all acted accordingly. They always left an empty chair between themselves and Jenny when they sat in the hospital waiting room, but Chris was able to sit right next to her, no problem. They never offered to help her in kitchens with limited, closed room to move, but Chris could be in her personal space with no major issues.

No, Jenny wasn’t so good with the other guys, and they were incredibly gentle and careful with her as a result. They’d talked about it once and they all had a pretty good idea what they were looking at: they strongly suspected that Jenny had been raped.

This speculation was based on more than just observation and guesswork. Chris, Dean, Jim and Dallas had all spent three tours in Afghanistan – the first three men had been Rangers in the same unit, and Dallas had been one hell of a sniper – and they had all received specialized training about how to deal with women who had been raped. It happened shockingly often in war, Chris knew, and the Taliban used it as punishment, as a way to shame and humiliate, as a form of terror, as the surest way to devalue a woman in her own family and village.