On Her Six (Under Covers) (14 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Do you want something to drink?” Ash called from the kitchen, his head buried inside his refrigerator. “Don’t have much. You have your choice of beer or OJ. Oh, and I’ve got tap water.” He poked his head around the fridge door, giving her a teasing smile. Her heart leaped in response.

“Beer’s great, thanks.” Sam settled onto his sofa, her legs curled beneath her as if she belonged there.

“I haven’t been to the store,” he admitted as he entered the living area. He handed her a dark bottle and sat close enough that her body hummed in response. “To the soon-to-be Officer Harper.”

She tapped her bottle to his, then placed the bottle to her lips. Joy and nervousness rolled in her stomach.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You did really well today.”

She smiled. “I think it was because I had a good teacher.”

They had spent four hours at the range, trying various techniques to improve her shot. Only one method worked. As long as Ash’s body pressed flush against hers, his hands caressing her skin, she didn’t miss. Once he stepped back and she felt the loss of his touch, she overthought her shots and couldn’t hit her target. She hadn’t been as disappointed when she missed this time. What mattered was the man sitting next to her.

Ash had been patient and kind as he gave instruction, never once showing sign of frustration or anger. Even when she missed, he’d encourage her to regroup and try again.

She stole a sideways glance at him. His mouth drew her eyes. A shiver ran through her body as she remembered the feel of it pressed against her. She’d like to feel it again right now. Flutters started in her belly and moved lower as she imagined his lips traveling the path the quivers were heading. Light stubble peppered his chin and cheeks, drifting into the hint of sideburns. Tanned skin glowed under the sheen of sweat from their earlier exertions.

He turned, catching her gaze, staring back with pale blue eyes almost the same shade as hers.

“What?” he asked.

She lifted one shoulder. “You.”

The corner of his mouth quirked before he took another drink. “What about me?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

Both corners lifted. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Someone more dangerous. Intimidating.”

He nearly spit his beer out. A small trail of beer slipped out the side of his mouth, and he swiped the back of his other hand to wipe it away. “And I’m not?”

“Oh, please. “ She laughed. “You’re far from it.”

With a frown, he responded, “Some people would say I’m scary as hell.”

“Then they don’t know you very well.”

He paused, seeming to think that over. “Well you’re not what I expected, either.”

“Oh, really?” So he was going to play that game. “And what did you expect?”

His eyes warmed as he gathered his thoughts. “Not you,” he said, his face suddenly serious. He stared at her, taking in all of her features at once. From the awed glint in his eyes, he seemed unable to believe the sight.

She shifted from the intensity of his stare. “Well,” she said, her face growing warm. “I’m still mad at you for letting that vamp get away. Next one we encounter is mine.”

His jaw clenched in an instant. “There won’t be a next time.”

“What if another one shows up? What am I supposed to do? Call big bad Ash to rescue me?”

He grinned, sitting up straighter. “That’s exactly what you should do.”

She rolled her eyes and slouched against the back of the sofa, before taking a sip from her beer. “Has anyone ever told you you’re conceited?”

“Let me think.” He stroked his chin. “Yeah, probably.”

“What about overbearing?”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Egotistical?”

“Sam, they all mean the same thing.”

She looked at him pointedly.

“Okay,” he conceded, “so we’ve established I’m arrogant. What about you? You’re stubborn and bossy as hell.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I’m offended!” She swatted at his shoulder. “I’m only that way around you. Everyone else loves how I am. You seem to bring out the worst in me.”

“Right back at you,” he said. “Oh, and speaking of stubborn, you need a new car.”

“Hey! I love my Honda!”

“Good brand,” he agreed. “Not as reliable as a Ford or Dodge, but you’re driving it. Not me. Just get a newer one.”

“What’s wrong with my girl? She’s dependable and gets me where I need to go without any issues.” Most of the time.

Ash continued laughing. “What about the smoking engine, grinding gears, and squeaky doors? It’s so old I guarantee it doesn’t have air conditioning. And I know firsthand it doesn’t have power steering.”

She didn’t have a rebuttal for that.

He gave her his
that’s-what-I-thought
look.

“Seriously though. Why the hunk of junk, Sam? I’m sure your job pays you enough to get a newer car.”

She took another sip and shook her head. “I don’t deserve it. Not yet. Not until I pass.”

His face was blank, and then contorted when recognition dawned. “You won’t buy a new car until you pass the police exam?”

She nodded.

“Your stubbornness is worse than I thought. It’s a disease, really. What if that contraption breaks down?”

“Then I’ll fix it.” Duh.

“Wouldn’t it be easier—and cheaper—to get a new car?”

She shrugged, refusing to give in to his logic. “I don’t deserve to.”

He shook his head. “You’re something else.”

Her pulse kicked up. “Something good? Or something bad?”

Grinning, he eyed her a moment without responding. Ugh, it was killing her.

“Good,” he finally said. “Frustrating, but good. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you. Samantha Harper, you are one of a kind.”

She dropped her gaze, peeling the label off her beer bottle. Her insides shouted in excitement.

“Sam, look at me.”

When she didn’t move, he placed his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes.

Holding her chin between his thumb and index finger, he gave her that now familiar probing look. “You’re hard as nails when you’re threatened. Ballsy, even. But the second I compliment you, you back away. Why?”

She shrugged.

“I mean it,” he pressed, his eyes darkening. “You’re one of a kind.”

She tried to drop her head again, but he held her in place.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, as if supremely satisfied she accepted his compliment.

Keeping her chin in his hold, he searched her eyes once more, giving nothing away as to what he searched for. She hoped when he came back up for air that he wanted whatever he found in her depths. She felt strong and important, higher than when she’d been on Vamp, and sick to her stomach all at the same time.

Only with this man. She’d never experienced it before Ash. She couldn’t turn away, didn’t want to.

They were drawn together by force. Now connected, they were captive. There was no escape.

His knuckles ran along her cheek, before his palm cupped the side of her face, his thumb caressing. He leaned toward her, his head tilting, eyes focused on her lips.

She moved forward, offering her consent for what she knew they both craved.

His lips brushed hers, softly, naturally. Her eyes closed, and she sighed. It was like free-falling without a chute, but knowing Ash would be there to catch her.

Her hands went around the nape of his neck, holding him in place. The stubble of hair at the base of his neck tickled her fingers. Never had anything felt so good. So right. She smiled against his lips.

“Ash…” She pulled back to see his face.

He met her gaze straight on. He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone buzzed on the table beside them. Ash stilled, and that quickly the moment was over.

He dropped his hand from her face and shifted away. “I-I have work to do. I’m sure you do, too.”

“Ash?” Her gut clenched. “Ash, what’s wrong?”

When she reached out, he stood and paced in front of the window. Then he turned to her. “I have to make a couple of calls.”

Her heart dropped when she caught his meaning. He wanted to be alone.

She got to her feet and placed the empty bottle in the kitchen sink. He continued to pace. She approached and reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. “Ash, if I did anything—”

He spun away before she could touch him. “You didn’t. I’m sorry, Sam. I…I shouldn’t have…I—I can’t do this. It isn’t a good idea.”

“But—”

“Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. That was a dick move. I didn’t mean…I just…you have to go.”

She obeyed. At the door, she turned again, imploring him to change his mind.

The muscles in his body remained stiff. His cell phone was already in his hand. He offered her a tight resemblance of a farewell smile.

…

Great idea, dickhead. Take her to the range. Hold her body against yours. Imagine what it would be like to let her in. Kiss her. Then kick her ass to the curb.

He raked his fingernails over his buzzed scalp and dropped onto the sofa in the front room. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes. She must think he was mental. He’d felt the attraction. Couldn’t ignore it. She felt great in his arms. Right. And her lips pressing against his were like heaven and hell all at once. It made him high, and it made him crazy. It made him want to lay her down on this couch and forget all about his past. About his team. About Heinrich and this goddamn assignment.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because that was almost the exact thought he’d had with Lorena. They could’ve made a go of it. Been happy. Lived out the rest of their days lying on a beach somewhere, her beneath him wearing nothing but a smile.

Before she’d shot him, of course.

Nope, he wasn’t doing it again. He wasn’t going to soften for a woman. Not this time. He didn’t give a shit that this one was hard as nails. That she stood toe-to-toe with a Vamper and didn’t back down. That despite losing her father she refused to give up hope he was truly gone.

Not. Gonna. Do. It.

But his gut didn’t agree. The thing cramped like his appendix was about to burst. He leaped to his feet and searched for his keys. He needed air. Needed to clear his head. Otherwise, he’d walk his sorry ass next door and open up to her like a fucking pussy. He’d spill all his secrets before he could stop himself.

Finding his keys on the kitchen counter, he hustled for the front door. He ripped the thing open, stepped through the doorway, and slammed it shut behind him. Then sprinted down his front steps.

He hit the concrete landing and froze.

There she was. Her lithe body making its way across the street as the sun radiated off her bared skin. Those long legs and arms of hers swishing back and forth on a mission—to get as far away from him as possible.

Good. It was best.

She turned and met his gaze, and even from thirty yards he could see the devastated expression. It nearly brought him to his knees. When an explanation for his actions wormed its way up his throat, nearly choking him, he severed their connection and snapped his gaze to the ground, hauling ass to his truck. He jumped in without a destination in mind. Only to get away as fast as possible.

He’d driven about ten minutes, making his way down the narrow city streets, tailgating anyone who had the nerve to get in his way, when his cell phone rang. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he dug in his pocket with the other.

Ash pressed a button on the screen to place the call on speaker phone. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck were you thinking, you stupid, arrogant asshole?”

“I’m not really in the mood for games, Tyke,” he said. “Get to the point. What did I do this time?”

“What did you do? I’ll tell you exactly what you did,” he blasted into the receiver. “How about racking up a body count of more than a hundred people? Let’s start with that. You know I’m supposed to take that shit to Landry. And what’s that gonna do? It’s gonna piss him off, which is only going to prolong this torture. The more you fuck up, the longer I’m stuck being team lead. Jesus, man. Now I gotta cover for you. Get. Your shit. Together, Cooper.” He grumbled a string of words, huffing gruff breaths into Ash’s ear. Ash let him go on, knowing he needed to get it out. When finished, Tyke said, “But you know what? That’s not enough. I also have to cover up the fact that you promised that woman your team—a team that’s not even yours anymore—would take time from their critical mission of tracking a drug dealer to look for her missing father. How’s that?”

“Her father was Baltimore Police, Tyke. He was working—”

“Undercover, trying to stop Heinrich. Spare me. I know the story. What I want to know is why you’re telling her we’ll try to find him. You read the file, man. The guy’s dead.”

“Christ, Tyke.” His heart thumped against his ribcage, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He jerked the wheel to the right into a lot for an automobile repair shop and threw the truck in park.

“It’s in the file, Coop,” Tyke said in a calmer voice. “Just repeating what I read. We’re taxed already with everything that’s going on. Your little episode at Club Hell set us back big-time. We can’t risk deviating from the plan. Intel’s suggesting the drop’s going down within the next two weeks. We need to be ready to move, and that’s not gonna happen if we’re worried about an ex-undercover cop.”

He closed his eyes, then pressed his fingers into his sockets. “Fine.”

“But lucky for you,” Tyke said in a slick tone. “Calder, Reese, and I know how to multi-task. Must’ve been something we learned from an old team leader.”

A smile slid across Ash’s face in response. “What did you get?”

“We think the son of a bitch is actually alive,” Tyke said. “But you’re not gonna like how.”

Chapter Seventeen

What was that?
Sam ambled down Ash’s front steps, her tennis shoes smacking the cement with each step.

Everything had been going great. They laughed and joked, and then all of a sudden it was as if someone pulled him from a dream and reminded him where he was.
Oh no, that’s Samantha Harper. Steer clear of her
.

Sickness filled her stomach, and her heart wanted to rip open. What had she done to turn him away? Had he not felt the pull? That insane attraction? She didn’t have much experience with guys, but she’d never experienced something so off-putting. How could she not take it personally? All she’d done was sit there and wait for him to kiss her.

She’d heard around the station that some of those macho-men types liked strong, gutsy women in the bedroom. Ones who gave as much as they got. Was that what Ash wanted? Her to take control? Make the first move as she’d done at Club Hell? He sure as hell reciprocated then.

But wait, had she really done something wrong? He’s the one who acted like everything was great and then flipped on her like a switch.
He’s
the one with the problem. Maybe he was one of those guys with a relationship phobia.

Ugh, men were so confusing.

One would think working in a male-dominated profession she’d have it figured out.

Grandma Rose opened the front door for Sam. Ash’s tires screamed behind her, but she didn’t turn to watch him drive away.

“He’s not who we think he is,” Sam said. “He’s DEA and after Viktor Heinrich, too.”

She stopped short when she caught the other members of the 19th Street Patrol sitting in the living room, sipping lemonade. They sat next to each other hip-to-hip on the dated velour couch.

“We know,” Maybel spoke. “His name is Ashland Cooper. He’s deep undercover. We’re lucky we got that much.”

“But…when…?”

Rose patted Sam’s shoulder. “This morning, sweets.”

“It’s a big relief if you ask me.” Maybel lifted the glass to her mouth.

“I told you so,” Celia added.

“I knew a man that fine couldn’t be bad,” Estelle said, fluffing her hair.

“Sam, are you expecting anyone today?” Celia asked, gazing out the front window.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“There’s a man walking in your front yard.”

The ladies craned their necks to peer out.

A short man in his late thirties with dark features, wearing a bland tan uniform paced in front of Sam’s house.

Must be someone from the HVAC company to fix her main air conditioning unit.

“Finally,” she breathed. “Took ’em long enough. I can’t put up with another night of soaked sheets.” She started for the door. “Be right back.”

She hopped down her grandmother’s cement steps, crossed the street, ready to hug and kiss the wonderful man. Air conditioning! She couldn’t believe it. She was going to have working AC. And not a crappy little window unit. A full-fledged full-house unit. Finally.

“Hey there!” She’d be turning the system down to thirty degrees and smiling as frost gathered on her windows tonight.

When she reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street, the man looked up and his eyes widened.

Everything happened in slow motion.

He moved his arm, and she caught a gleam of metal in his waistband.

Gun!

She turned toward Rose’s house, spotting the women on the porch.

“No!” She took off in a dead run toward the armed man. “Get inside!” she shouted to the women.

On the sidewalk, his hand at his waistband, he took determined steps toward her. They were a foot apart when he clasped the gun and raised it in her direction. She used her forward momentum to lunge at him and shove his hand upward.

One shot fired into the clouds.

She smashed her right palm up and onto the tip of the man’s nose, causing his head to snap back. Gripping his nape, she plunged his head forward, doubling him over, then kneed him in the face.

His hold on the weapon loosened enough for her to disarm him with one twist on the slide. He fell into a heap on the pavement, looking up at her with a stunned expression, blood dripping from his nostrils.

She pulled the slide, ejected the bullet from the chamber, and tossed the gun a few feet away.

Sam turned to make sure Rose and the women were unharmed, but a female shrieked and footsteps stomped behind her. Then an arm clamped around her neck.

He squeezed enough to make her vision darken at the corners. She fought and struggled, no way would she let him win, but he squeezed even tighter. Her feet dangled off the ground, her back plastered against his hard chest. More and more of her eyesight decreased, complete darkness imminent.

She tried to suck in a breath, but all that came was a slow
wheeze
. Her lungs filled like heavy weights, bloating in an effort to conserve whatever oxygen she had left.

Her arms swung wildly around, not hitting anything.

Female voices screamed for her to hold on.

In a final attempt to free herself, she gritted her teeth and threw her fist down like a jackhammer, connecting with the man’s balls. His arm slipped enough for her to suck in a quick gasp of air, and her vision cleared.

She prepared to slam her head backward into the man’s face, but instead his hold released. A scream sounded as he fell to the ground and shook in intense spasms.

“You okay, sweets?” Rose asked, holding a Taser aimed at the man’s back.

Sam nodded, rubbing her neck as she looked around.

Still running on heightened adrenaline, she grabbed the first man’s collar and hoisted him into a sitting position on the pavement in front of her house. “Who are you?” She lowered her face toward his. “Why are you here?”

Tires squealed. Her head jerked up. A black sedan barreled down the street, headed straight for her and Rose. The driver stuck a gun out the window in their direction.

“Grandma!” Sam pushed Rose onto Ash’s front lawn. Sam hit the concrete sidewalk, her knees dropping first, then her cheek as two rounds went off.

No searing pain, so Sam lifted her head to see the two injured men leap into the sedan. The scent of burnt rubber wafted through the air as the car sped down 19th Street.

She was sweaty, out of breath, and her knees seethed in pain from their brush with the concrete. Those factors, combined with the fact that someone shot at her grandma, really pissed her off.

Sam turned to Rose. “You okay? Sorry about the spill.” She bent to help the older woman to her feet. “At least I pushed you into the grass.”

Rose stood, dusting herself off.

Sam turned, making sure her friends were all right. The women scowled. No one came into their neighborhood and threatened one of their own.

“DJR 714,” Sam repeated to herself as she and Rose trudged up the porch steps. “DJR 714…DJR 714…”

“Maybel,” Sam huffed, grabbing the porch railing for support, “Can you look up a plate?”

The woman had her cell phone up to her ear. “Already on it.”

…

He sent people after her. Viktor Heinrich sent his men after Sam, and her grandmother could have been injured. Or worse.

Rage and impatience pumped through her veins, filling her insides to the max. Her body vibrated with the need to protect her family. The need to do something to keep them safe. Heinrich had taken her father from her. And he could’ve taken her grandmother.

Heinrich knew where she lived, and he would try again. She was sure of it. After the death and destruction she’d caused at Club Hell, it seemed Heinrich wanted revenge. She’d been in sticky messes before, but being on a dangerous drug dealer’s hit list was about as bad as it got.

Whether her life was in danger or not, her priority was still to find out what happened to her father. To clear his name. Which was why she stood on Ash’s front steps, waiting for him to answer the door.

It didn’t matter what he thought about her or how he’d treated her before. In fact, he’d made it easier on her. If their kiss had gone any further, had developed into something more, then things would get messy. Feelings would surface and hearts would be on the line. No, she was facing him today because she needed information about her father. So she’d do her part and report back to Ash on what she’d found about suspicious activity within BPD. Anything to get on his good side so he’d help her in return.

She’d knocked twice and raised her hand for a third time, when the door swung open.

Ash appeared, taking up most of the doorway with his large frame. Small streams of afternoon light glittered from the kitchen window behind him, illuminating the outline of his body. The dips and valleys of his shape, his wide shoulders and trim waist. He wore only low-slung workout shorts and a white towel draped over his bare shoulder. His short hair was darker, the droplets of shower water trailing down to his naked chest and abs. Her gaze roamed all the way to his bare toes, and a zing raced up her spine. Why the hell his bare feet did anything to her, she had no idea. Maybe because he was normally so buttoned up, so severe, and his bare feet made him seem approachable. Human.

She brought her attention up to his crossed arms and waiting expression.

“Something I can do for you, Sam?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “I, uh, came to give you an update on my assignment.”

He lifted a dark brow, then it dropped and he said, “You mean looking for any dirty cops.”

She nodded. “I started in the Narcotics unit, figuring that would be the most likely place. It was, after all, where my father worked.”

His posture remained guarded, arms still crossed, weight evenly distributed on both feet. “Find anything?”

“A little.” She turned her head to peer down 19th Street and clenched her jaw. “I was interrupted.” She brought her attention back to him and said, “But I’m going to try again. You can bet on that.”

“Good,” he said. “I appreciate the help.” He unfolded his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe.

She was ready to ask him about Heinrich’s place in Upper Marlboro, the one Lyons mentioned, but he said, “Since you’re here, I have something to tell you, too.” He glanced to the floor, then his eyes flicked up to meet hers. His body swayed as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you come inside for a minute?” He gestured with an outstretched arm, his biceps lengthening from the motion, and he followed her into his living room.

She sat on the edge of the couch at a loss over what he had to tell her. When he settled on the opposite end, she turned to face him.

“What is it?”

He didn’t meet her stare, choosing to keep his attention on the television. Though given the distant look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to be watching it. His jaw worked as if he was trying to form the words.

“It’s your father,” he said, turning to look at her. “My teammates think they might’ve found something.”

A surge of electricity zapped her body upright. “What? What did they find? Did they find him? Is he all right? Is he—?”

“Calm down, Sam,” he said. “While I’m here surveying Heinrich’s movements in Baltimore City, the rest of the team is farther south monitoring Heinrich’s compound. My teammates think they spotted someone who resembled your father.” He stared at her, as if he was unsure what to say next.

“Okay,” she said, drawing the syllables out.

He cupped the back of his neck. “This guy, he, uh, works for Heinrich.”

“Yeah,” she said. “My dad was working for Heinrich undercover.”

“No, he
works
for Heinrich. For real. He’s the business manager for Heinrich’s entire drug operation.”

She paused and let what he was suggesting sink in. Her brain seemed to reject what he’d said as the truth, so her only reaction was to repeat his words. “So my dad’s there, and he’s Heinrich’s right hand man.”

“It looks that way, but he’s going by Jonah Michaels now. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No.” A mammoth headache crept its way into the front of her brain, pounding for a way out. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “What does that mean?”

“It looks like your father took on another identity when he started working for Heinrich in earnest. That’s why there’s no record of him in the recent files. It’s probably also why the DEA assumes he’s dead.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Impossible. My dad wouldn’t do that. He must still be undercover.” Which also meant that he was still alive. She could save him.

His eyebrows lifted into his hairline. “And not communicating with his handler?”

“Maybe something happened, and he can’t send word.”

“It’s been a pretty long time with no communication, Sam.”

Two long and grueling years. “I don’t care. My dad would never work for Heinrich. It’s a mistake. What your team saw isn’t what’s really going on.”

“Think about it, Sam. Why would your dad stay there if he didn’t want to?”

“Maybe Heinrich’s holding him against his will,” she said. “Maybe he can’t leave. Did your teammates think of that before they started throwing accusations around?”

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “My teammates are expertly trained. They know what they’re looking at.”

“They’re still human. They can make mistakes. And this is definitely a mistake. So you go right back to your team and tell them to reevaluate.”

“The evidence doesn’t lie. I’m telling you—”

Anger clamped on to her lungs, thrusting her words out like missiles. “No, I’m telling you. They’re wrong.”

A muscle in his jaw flinched and he said, “They watched Heinrich’s business manager physically hurting other people. Does that sound like something your father would do?”

He what?
“No,” she croaked, hugging her arms around herself. “He wouldn’t. Even if he had to. Even if Heinrich held a gun to his head. He wouldn’t do it. It’s a mistake.”

Ash’s expression softened, and his fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Or he’s not the man you thought he was.”

She yanked her shoulders away from him, and his hand fell to his side.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his skin stretching with the motion. “Look, I only told you to try to spare you. The team’s bringing down Heinrich’s whole operation. Everyone involved will be indicted. I thought you’d want to hear it now, from me, rather than from someone else afterwards.”