Officer out of Uniform (Lock and Key Book 2) (5 page)

“I’m fine,” Henry said. “I was just thinking about how we could make your apartment more secure.”

“Oh?” Sasha arched a brow. “Well, what are your suggestions?”

“Frankly, I haven’t got shit. I can’t stand the idea of you staying here all by yourself. Not with a freak like that on the loose. I know you probably think it’s a longshot that you’d run into him, but if you did—”

“I’ve got my Shun,” she said, trying instinctively to banish the ghost-whiteness that’d taken over his complexion. “And I’m not afraid to stand up for myself.”

“Shun?”

“My knife. It’s incredibly sharp.”

Henry looked directly into her eyes, and he didn’t seem amused. “I’d never forgive myself if you got close enough to Randy Levinson to stab him.”

“Who said anything about Randy Levinson?”

A hundred unpleasant memories swept over Sasha as she thought back to the Levinson brothers’ escape and the ordeal that had nearly ended two of her and Henry’s mutual friends’ lives. Sure, the warden’s death was the worst thing to happen in Riley County since then, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Randy Levinson was responsible, even if he was still at large.

Last she’d heard, Randy had been sighted somewhere in the Southwest.

“The warden’s body – his hands were cuffed together. I don’t think that had anything to do with the way he actually died. I think it was just for show. A message.”

“Okay.” Sasha nodded as she digested that piece of information, that mental image. “I can see why you think a former prisoner did it…”

“Randy Levinson had every reason to do it. Being on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, trying to escape something you can’t ever really get away from – that takes a toll on a man. And we know revenge is a sore spot for him. He can’t just let things go, even if that’d be the smart decision. Even as a kid, he was willing to risk everything in order to dish out retribution. Believe me, Sasha – he’s back.”

A deep-reaching sense of dread unfurled inside her, its roots spreading through her gut, causing it to cramp. If Henry was right, Randy Levinson was back and looking for revenge, in a big way. If he’d been trying to send a message via the warden’s death, he’d succeeded. Which meant…

Henry might be put directly in the path of danger again. Riley’s PERT officers – including Henry and his friends Liam and Grey – might be assigned to another manhunt, might spend day and night combing through the county’s pine forests and fields, coast and inlets, like they had when the Levinson brothers had first escaped. The thought caused a cold sweat to break out on Sasha’s brow.

“I don’t like this,” she said.

“Who would?”

“No one, of course – it’s awful. But I meant that I don’t like what this means for you specifically. You might have to go back out on the search again.”

“That’s my job.” Henry’s expression lightened a little, like he was actually looking forward to it.

Sasha bit her tongue before she could say anything stupid. Of course it was his job.
Someone
had to do it.

She didn’t have any right to a racing heart or a dry mouth, and there’d be no stopping him in any case. Still, she felt incredibly small and incredibly scared as she stood there staring at him, her memories of their night together warring with her worries about the future. She could almost feel the place in her heart where a hole would be left if something happened to him.

It’d been hard knowing he’d been part of the prison’s search team last time, and that’d been before they’d even gotten together. Now that they had, she could feel a connection between them, one she’d ached for every time she’d laid eyes on him. The thought of someone severing that was unbearable.

“You must be hungry,” she said, turning on her heel, forcing herself to tear her gaze from his face. “It’s dinnertime – past, almost. Why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to whip up something quick.”

He didn’t argue. Thankfully. Sasha got the impression that he was eager to resume searching for the prison escapee, and she wasn’t above tying him to a chair at her kitchen table. Actually…

The barest hint of heat sparked inside her, reminding her what it was like to feel something other than fear. Ever since he’d shown up at her door, she’d felt little else, and no matter how much lust he inspired, she couldn’t shake the dark cloud his news had left her under.

“I hope you like spaghetti,” she called over her shoulder, “because I—”

She froze with a box of pasta in her hand, and a few dry noodles fell out, bouncing on the linoleum.

Henry was right behind her, so close she could easily have reached out and laid hands on that fantastic body. She could even smell him: a heady combination of practical guy soap and a faint spice that might’ve been aftershave. And yes – there was a hint of sweat. Overall, it was a very masculine combination, and inhaling deeply rekindled the desire her anxiety had been repressing.

“I brought you flowers,” he said, lifting the bouquet he’d laid down on the counter when he’d first entered her apartment.

The scent of rose blossoms drifted through the air, swirling with his smell, threatening to make her dizzy.

“Thanks.” She took them, paying close attention to the bright red blossoms for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “They’re beautiful. And very red – very romantic.”

She didn’t have to force a smile, even if she was still worried about him.

Maybe it was crazy, given the circumstances and what they’d already done, but the classic gesture of a dozen red roses had butterflies bursting into flight inside her belly. Her panties were also faintly wet – no surprise there, given Henry’s incredible physique.

Incredible performance.

Incredible everything.

“They reminded me of you,” he said. “They’re the exact same color as your bikini.”

A rush of satisfaction swept through her. She’d been counting on catching Henry’s eye when she’d put on that particular swimsuit. Just the memory of him peeling it off her was enough to have her biting her inner lip, suppressing a moan.

“They’re gorgeous – let me find a vase.” She turned away, body on fire, and rummaged beneath the sink.

She made a show of arranging the flowers in a plain glass vase – not that they really needed the extra fussing. She liked feeling the silky-smooth petals against her skin though, was thrilled that Henry had thought to bring her roses. It was a simple gesture, and yet… Everything he did seemed like a big deal to her.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so head-over-heels for anyone. Sure, she had a healthy appreciation for the opposite sex, but she wasn’t usually one to get serious – quickly or at all.

Getting serious about someone meant anchoring yourself to the devastation that would come someday when you inevitably lost them. Sasha had never met anyone who made her want to risk that. She’d always figured that if there was someone she was really supposed to be with, she wouldn’t have much of a choice about it – the attraction would demand the sacrifice.

“Do you need help?” Henry was still startlingly close; his presence made her nerves buzz, made her spill a little more pasta.

“Absolutely not. I could make spaghetti in my sleep. Just have a seat.”

She tipped her head toward the table, a white-painted number she’d found at a flea market. It was set with blue placemats and sea glass candleholders; she liked to think of it as shabby chic. It provided a nice contrast to the chrome-and-silver practicality of the cooking implements that shone from every available surface in her apartment’s modest kitchen.

“I know you can cook,” he said. “Everyone in Riley County knows it. I guess what I meant was, would you
like
any help? I can stir – maybe even chop, if you’ll trust me with your knife.”

“I like cooking for people.” She especially liked to cook for sexy men in – or out – of uniform. It wasn’t exactly a hardship to make spaghetti for Henry. “If you really want to help though, you can rinse some lettuce and slice some vegetables for a salad.”

He agreed and accepted the head of romaine along with the fresh tomatoes and sweet peppers she presented him with. As he lapsed into his characteristic silence, she realized that they’d just had their longest conversation – by far – ever.

It figured that it had been a gristly murder, of all things, that’d finally gotten him talking. She couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. How badly had the discovery shaken him to draw him out of his strong and silent shell like that?

As she crushed a few garlic cloves, she glanced sidelong at him. He was busy dicing a tomato into tiny cubes. Not exactly how she would’ve cut one for a salad, but what did it matter? She looked away from his careful cutting, noting that he was still pale.

“I’ve been thinking,” he eventually said. “Your place of work is the best-known place in Riley County, besides the beaches. People come in and out of the Wisteria Plantation House’s grounds all day, and it’s far enough out of the way that it’d take the police a little while to get there, unlike anywhere in Cypress. It could be dangerous, especially if Levinson is looking for a public place to target. After his stunt with the warden, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

So that was what he’d been brooding about for the past five minutes.

“I’m not going to work tomorrow,” she said.

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m going to visit my mom. She lives in a little town west of Raleigh, a couple hours from here.”

He stood at the counter with the knife still in his hand, tomato juice dripping from his fingers. “That’s probably for the best. When are you leaving?”

“In the morning.”

“Will you be staying long?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a day trip. I only took one day off work.”

He frowned. “Guess you’ll be getting back after dark?”

“Probably.” A pang of bittersweetness soared through her. Yes, she was looking forward to seeing her mother. But the occasion was one that never failed to remind her of what she’d lost – what they’d both lost.

They said that time healed all wounds, but it didn’t. It just made them a little easier to live with, enough so that you felt guilty, sometimes, because you
were
living.

“Maybe I could meet you here tomorrow night,” he said. “You could text me and let me know when you’re on your way – I could have dinner ready for you when you arrive.”

“Is that a date invitation, or are you offering to play bodyguard?”

“I—” He jerked, dropping the knife and holding his opposite hand aloft. “Shit!”

A drop of blood beaded on the end of his thumb, courtesy of the Shun that’d been sliding so easily through the ripe tomato.

Sasha grabbed a clean kitchen towel and pressed it against his hand.

“I keep fucking this up worse and worse,” he said, still grimacing. “When I got off work today, I was just planning to bring you flowers. Figured we could go from there. Then I found the warden. Now I’ve gotta think of a way to do things right and make sure you’re not unnecessarily endangered at the same time.”

Unnecessarily endangered
. As if doing things like going to work or leaving her house weren’t necessary.

Sasha took one look at Henry’s uber-serious expression and bit back a flippant reply. After all, he’d just been the first to discover a murder scene – one where the victim was someone he knew. To say that he’d had a shitty day would’ve been one hell of an understatement.