Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
OLIVER
The guilt keeps coming at me in waves.
With each one, a terrible memory comes crashing back in.
Shea’s slurred voice on the phone, broken by hitching sobs as she begged me to help her.
The clutching fear of knowing she was in trouble and not being there.
The feeling of absolute helplessness as I sped to her house, not knowing if I’d get there in time.
Those terrifying minutes when I didn’t know if she had been hurt. Taken. Or if she was even alive.
Then seeing my Shea sprawled out on the bathroom floor, unconscious, with bruises in the shape of large fingers marking her cheeks and jaw.
Waiting for her to wake up. Praying.
Fuck.
I thought I knew fear. But in the fifteen minutes it took to get from Sleepy Hollow to White Plains, I really learned what it means.
I could have lost the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.
And I wasn’t there to protect her. My brave Shea had to face it on her own.
Now that I know what happened—she told me everything in the hospital once the drugs had worn off—I’m even more in awe of her. I saw the footage on her doorbell camera, that piece of shit fake delivery guy with his crappy disguise, how he grabbed Shea and manhandled her inside. I saw how much bigger he was than her. How it should have been impossible to fight back.
But Shea managed the impossible. She got him out of her house and made it to safety.
I’m so proud of her.
And I’m also furious. Not at Shea, of course, but this fucked up situation.
She shouldn’t have had to fight for her life right in her own house. Right on her own damn doorstep. Shea did everything right—checking the cameras and the tracking info for the delivery, even grabbing the pepper spray before answering the door.
How could she have ever expected the delivery man would be a fraud?
That’s not something Shea should even have to consider. I should have thought of it. Should have warned her. And if not me, why not Niall? Or Cole? There are dozens of trained professionals involved in Shea’s case, and not one of them, myself included, prepared for this kind of attack.
I should have protected her better.
Dammit.
We’ve only been back together—are we together? In my mind we are—for less than a week and I already failed her. Again.
Midway through my latest circuit around the living room, I pause next to the couch to look at the arrangement of pillows. They’re all perfectly lined up except for one that’s cockeyed and rumpled, probably from one of the many people crowding Shea’s house just a few hours ago.
Moving the pillow into its proper position, I eyeball it, then give it a little karate chop, just like Shea and Maya do. Not only does it make the pillow look nicer, it’s also surprisingly therapeutic. Maybe not as satisfying as punching a wall, which is what I’d really like to do, but it’s better than nothing.
It also has the added benefit of being quiet, and since Shea is sleeping in the bedroom right now, that’s a definite plus. After a brief hesitation, I chop the pillow again, this time putting some muscle into it.
Then I decide to do the rest of them, just for good measure.
Just as I’m thwacking the last pillow, I hear a softly amused, “Oll? Did the pillows do something to you?”
Spinning around, I find Shea standing in the living room doorway, her lips curved into a tiny smile. If my gaze could stop straying to the bruises on her face, I’d be able to appreciate how cute she looks—hair in tousled waves, eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep, and a tiny crease across her cheek. She’s wearing shorts and an oversized T-shirt that says Atlantic City on it, which I recognize from our trip there five years ago.
My anger subsides, quickly replaced by a rush of pleasure.
She kept it.
Just like the little mementos on her bookshelves, Shea kept the shirt I bought her. Not just kept it, but had it somewhere in a dresser, close enough to grab it whenever she wants.
“Oliver?” Humor shifts to concern as Shea walks towards me. “I was just kidding about the pillows.”
“No, it’s fine.” I replace the pillow on the couch and move to meet her. As soon as I’m close enough, I pull her into my arms, hugging her body against mine. A surge of relief sweeps through me so quickly it steals my breath, and I just close my eyes and breathe in Shea’s familiar scent until I can trust myself to speak.
Shea twines her arms around my waist and tucks her head beneath my chin. “The pillows are fine? Or you’re fine?”
“Both.” My fingers comb through her silky hair, gently combing out the tangles. “I’m fine. And I was just fixing the pillows for you. They were a little messed up.”
Tilting her head back to meet my gaze, she gives me an assessing look. Then her little smile reappears. “It’s kind of therapeutic, isn’t it? Doing the pillow chop.”
My own lips twitch. “Actually, yes. I can see the appeal.”
“Yeah.” Shea covers her mouth, stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m still tired.”
As I guide her to the couch, I answer, “Because you’ve been through a lot today, and your body is still recovering.”
“Oliver.” There’s a scolding note in her tone. “I just woke up. I don’t need to lie down again.”
“You’re not.” Gently tugging her onto the couch, I pull a throw off the back of it and tuck it over her bare legs. “You’re sitting. That’s different.”
Shea narrows her eyes at me and her nose crinkles. “I don’t need to sit, either. I was going to find something to eat. And maybe put some laundry in. Plus, I’d like to vacuum since there were so many people here earlier.”
Scooting close to her, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “You need to rest. I can take care of all that.”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?” She glances at the window. The sun hangs low in the sky, maybe an hour short of setting. “Crap. Oll. Your shift went until three. Did you get in trouble for leaving early?”
“No. Of course not.” I can tell what Shea’s doing. It’s common for people who’ve been through a traumatic experience. They try to occupy their mind with small tasks and details so they don’t have to deal with whatever bad stuff just happened. It’s not necessarily a bad thing in the short term, but there are things we need to talk about first. And I don’t want Shea exhausting herself with cleaning when she’s still recovering from a massive adrenaline dump, plus the aftereffects of the drug she was given.
“The captain understood,” I continue. “He wasn’t upset at all. And he gave me the day off tomorrow to stay with you, too.”
Not like I was going to ask for permission to leave. Once I got Shea’s call, nothing could have stopped me from going to her. Fortunately, I was helping with the DARE program at the elementary school, so I didn’t have to worry about finding someone else to cover. I just sprinted to my car and floored it all the way here, breaking at least five laws on the way over.
Shea snuggles into me, draping her legs across mine. It’s such a familiar position—we used to always sit like this before—my throat goes thick for a second. “You’re off tomorrow, too?”
“Yes. I thought—” I stop myself. That’s about five steps further ahead. “Well. I’ll get to that. But first, I want to talk to you about some stuff.”
She stiffens. After a brief hesitation, she says, “Right. Do you have any news? Did the police find the guy who attacked me?”
“Not yet.” There’s that guilt again. Part of me thinks I should be out there, trying to find him. But that would mean leaving Shea, and that’s something I’m not willing to do. Even though I know the guys at Blade and Arrow would protect her, and all my other friends have volunteered to stand guard as well, it’s not the same.
“Oh.” Disappointment tinges her voice. “Well. I guess it hasn’t been that long, has it?”
Long enough. Long enough to discover that the disguise was effective enough to foil any efforts at using facial recognition to identify him. Long enough to find the real delivery driver unconscious and stripped down to his underwear, with no memory of anything other than a masked man jumping him while he tried to deliver the mail to a house on the outskirts of town.
And it’s been long enough to know we’re still not close to solving this case.
It’s maddening, really. With all the people helping, with all my own experience, we should have something by now. We shouldn’t be spinning our wheels while the threat to Shea escalates.
I’m not saying any of that, though. Instead, I force a smile that I hope looks reassuring as I reply, “No, it hasn’t. We’ll find him.”
“What about the real delivery man? Is he okay?”
“Yes. A concussion, but he’ll make a full recovery.”
She exhales. “Oh, good.” A beat, and then, “Was there anything on the security footage? Any clue?”
“Not that we’ve found, but we’re still looking. The police are canvassing the neighborhood, talking to your neighbors. Leo is checking the traffic light cameras. And my friend Ben, he’s a paramedic for the Sleepy Hollow Ambulance Corp, but also a white-hat hacker. He volunteered to search through satellite images in the area to see if he can find anything.”
“Okay.” Shea pauses. “So that’s good, right? With all those people, they’ve got to find something.”
“I’m sure. And while the White Plains PD has jurisdiction here, my department works with them a lot. They’ll make sure to keep me in the loop.”
She stares at me for a few seconds. Then she swallows hard. “So… I guess we can assume I’m the target? Not Jade or Elle or one of the other Blade and Arrow women?”
The tremor in her voice brings a fresh wave of guilt.
“Not necessarily. Jade’s thousands of miles away. The other women all live at the B and A headquarters, and it’s extremely secure. Not to mention, they all have protection from one of the team members if they have to go anywhere. So it may be that you were just”—my jaw clenches painfully—“the most… accessible.”
Shea winces. “Because I insisted on staying here instead of going with Niall. Or staying at the Sleepy Hollow B and A. It’s my fault?—”
“No.” My response is immediate. Firm. “It is not your fault, Shea. Not in the slightest.”
Her chin wobbles. “A man was hurt because of me, Oll. And now there’s more trouble. More time that people have to spend—” She stops. Fear flickers in her eyes.
Voice rising, she continues, “What if he comes back? What if he brings more people? You could get hurt. What if they wait until it’s dark and… I can’t let you get hurt again, I can’t .”
“Shea, no.” My heart twists. Gathering her closer, I press my lips to the top of her head. “I’m not going to get hurt.”
“You don’t know that, Oll. I know you’re this badass CIA agent slash cop, but agents and cops get hurt, too. Police are killed every day. And I know what the stars at Langley mean.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I lift Shea onto my lap and hold her gaze. “I’m fine. Not just because I can protect myself, but because I have people I trust to have my back. To have our backs.”
Thumbing a tear from her cheek, I gently add, “Right now, we have three people standing guard outside. Cole, Kane, and Nora. Remember Ian? From the ambulance? He and my friend Grant are coming over later to help out. Grant’s a former SEAL, and Ian is an expert in martial arts. So between them, and my incredible skills”—I waggle my eyebrows as I emphasize the word—“we’re absolutely safe here.”
For tonight, at least. Tomorrow, we’ll be discussing a different plan. One that doesn’t involve Shea staying at her house by herself.
“Oh.” Her voice is so small. Vulnerable. And I hate hearing her this way. “But we can’t have all these people here all the time. It’s not fair. Everyone has jobs. They can’t?—”
“We’ll figure it out.” While I have an idea, I don’t think it’s the right time to bring it up. Not when everything is so fresh. Not when Shea is so fragile.
“Oll…” She rests her head on my shoulder, her breath feathering across my neck. “Thank you for being here. I try to handle things myself most of the time, but today… I’m not sure I could do it on my own.”
“You could. You’re strong enough. But I’m glad you don’t have to. I’m glad you’re letting me be here for you.”
After a few quiet moments, Shea lifts her head again. Emotion darkens her eyes to an inky blue. “I thought of you. When that man was trying to get inside. I was so mad. That he’d try to hurt me, maybe take me, and I’d lose this chance with you.”
Oh.
Shit.
As a CIA officer, I had to stay cool in all situations. I couldn’t let my emotions cloud my judgment for even a second. And as a cop, it’s basically the same. My focus needs to be on the job and not how I’m feeling.
But right now, holding Shea in my arms, all I can do is feel.
“I’m so damn glad you fought back,” I finally tell her, once I trust my voice to stay steady. “But you won’t have to again. I promise.”
She stares at me for a second. Then her shoulders set. Her chin lifts. “What are we going to do next?”
“Well, tomorrow we’ll meet with Cole and his team. Obviously, the Sleepy Hollow and White Plains police are involved, but Blade and Arrow can provide more personalized attention. So we’ll come up with a plan then.”
“Not tonight?”
“I was thinking you might want a break before that. Time to rest, get some food, and relax a little. Hopefully get a decent night’s sleep.”
Shea plays with the buttons of my shirt. “And you’ll stay?”
“Unless you don’t want me to.”
“I do.” She widens her eyes at me. “Maybe we could watch a movie? And order pizza?”
“Of course.” Shifting her on my lap, I reach over to the coffee table to grab my phone. “We can order some right now. And then we’ll find a movie to watch. Anything you want.”
“That sounds nice. But… could we do something first?”
“Sure. What is it? A shower? Do you want to call Niall again? I know you didn’t talk to him long at the hospital?—”
“No.” Shea turns in my lap so she’s straddling me, her legs tucked up on either side of mine. “First, I want to do this.”
Then she leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft at first. Slow. Tender.
Her hands come to my cheeks, cool and soft against my skin.
I cup her nape, threading my fingers through her hair. But I don’t pull her towards me, rather letting Shea take control.
She traces the seam of my lips, teasing them open and dipping inside.
The kiss grows deeper. More intense. More passionate.
Shea strokes my tongue with hers, and I meet each move with a matching one of my own.
While my body would like nothing better than to lay Shea out on the couch and kiss her all over, to worship this beautiful woman I’m lucky enough to have in my arms, it’s not the time. Not now.
And this is just as good. This connection between us that goes deeper than words. A connection that might have been cracked for a while, but never broken.
When Shea finally draws back, her cheeks are pink and her eyes are a sparkling blue. The shadows from earlier are gone.
She places one hand above my heart, her gaze burning into mine. “Oll.”
“Yeah, Shea?”
“I promise. I’m never leaving you again.”