Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Callie lay in bed with a book, but she was having trouble concentrating on it. It was almost one in the morning, and she never stayed up that late. But she couldn’t sleep.
She dropped the book to her side and blew out a frustrated breath. The scrape on her hand hurt, her knee throbbed where she’d hit it on the steps at the Dawg, and her skin tingled anytime she thought of Seth’s tongue on her neck.
Which was pretty much every second since it’d happened. The way he’d tugged her close, bent her back, and pressed his nose to her skin to inhale her had been one of the sexiest things she’d ever experienced.
Okay, the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. The guys she’d had sex with during college and since—a sum total of three men, which wasn’t much—had never done anything like that. They’d kissed her, touched her breasts when she’d indicated she wasn’t going to stop them, and then things usually progressed to a bit of touching, licking (if she was lucky), and then penetration.
It’d felt good, but not extraordinary.
Seth King had inhaled her, ran his tongue across her pulse, and everything inside her liquified into a molten puddle of need. If he’d kissed her right away, she’d have probably forgotten her name.
He hadn’t, though. He’d stopped, and when she’d opened her eyes, he’d been staring at her knowingly. He knew the effect he had on her. He’d thought she was his for the taking. She could see it in his eyes, the fact he was going to kiss her and she wouldn’t stop him. They’d end up naked, him deep inside her, and she’d lose herself to the sensations.
Her reaction had scared her. And angered her.
It wasn’t real—at least his part of it wasn’t real. He’d kissed her to prove a point—her fault because she’d goaded him—but he wasn’t invested. Oh, he’d have taken it all the way to her bedroom, because why turn down free sex, but it wouldn’t have wrecked him emotionally.
She felt like it would have left her picking up the pieces of herself and wondering how the hell she’d come apart so thoroughly. She reminded herself she was boring Callie Crowell, the math nerd who spoke three languages, wrote computer code, and always had her nose in a book when she had time, but who really had the soul of an artist and wanted to make pretty things.
It was that artist’s soul that threatened to get her in trouble with Seth. Because he was beautiful, and she wanted to explore him. He was too beautiful, in fact, for a math nerd who couldn’t figure out makeup to save her life and whose sense of fashion was questionable at best.
Thinking Mikhail was interested in her was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking Seth was, too.
Besides, she’d lied to him, and she could tell he knew. He’d asked her if there was anything she was doing that nobody else could do.
She hadn’t told him the truth because it was too dangerous. She proofed the code for errors, yes. But she also tweaked the code, wrote new code, made everything work faster and better. She was a junior programmer, but she’d been promoted to the team working on the government satellite project in record time because of her skill.
Nobody on the team could do what she did, but because it was a government project, things had to be done a certain way. The protocols had to be followed. Once it got to her, she was supposed to make it better.
And she did. Last night, when she’d been working late, the lines of code hadn’t done what they were supposed to do. She’d been perplexed, and she’d run more checks. She’d looked for errors, for ghost code, but she hadn’t found anything before the fire began.
She’d wondered in the hours since if someone had sabotaged her work. But why would they do that? And if they had, they hadn’t left any obvious trail. That in itself was an ominous thought.
She closed her eyes. She wanted to tell Seth everything. He was here to protect her and Nikki, and she was grateful for that. He was oddly sweet in some ways and supremely irritating in others.
She liked him, but what if she was wrong? She’d signed an NDA, and though she didn’t know the full extent of the Athena Project, she knew it was important to national defense. She couldn’t tell anyone more than she had already.
She picked up the book again and tried to get back into it. Maybe reading a romance novel hadn’t been a good idea after all. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, because she did, but the longing looks and sizzling touches the main characters were giving each other was starting to frustrate her.
The creak of a door scraped across her senses, and her heart rocketed into space. Callie sat up in bed, listening hard. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, moving toward the living room. She threw back the covers and got out of bed. It had to be Seth, but it might be Nikki. It was the thought of her sister wandering around at night that made her tiptoe to the door and open it.
Seth’s door was closed. She nibbled her lip, then slipped into the hall and trekked toward the kitchen. If Nikki was there, she’d make sure her sister was okay, that she hadn’t had a nightmare. Nikki’s nightmares had diminished over the past couple of months, but Callie didn’t kid herself they were gone.
Nikki didn’t elaborate, but the dreams were about their parents. About losing them. And sometimes they were about losing Callie, which broke her heart. She always reassured Nikki she wasn’t going anywhere, but Nikki looked at her sadly and said, “You can’t promise that, Cal. Nobody can.”
It was true, and yet the words always came because there were no other ones she could say.
When Callie hit the living room, the front door was open. Not a lot, but enough to make a chill shoot from her scalp to her toes. She crept over to it, wishing she’d gotten her dad’s old shotgun from her closet, her heart a jackhammer in her chest.
Logic told her it was most likely Seth or Nikki who’d walked past her door and stepped outside. Wouldn’t Seth have gotten an alert on his phone if someone approached the house?
Fear notched higher. Maybe he had. Maybe he was out there now, searching the darkness for an intruder.
She changed course and went over to the window to look outside. A shirtless man sat on the gravel driveway, his knees drawn up, his head in his hands. He rocked back and forth as if in pain. Or maybe he was trying to soothe himself.
He tipped his head back, his face turned up to the sky, and she got a look at him in the moonlight streaming between the trees.
Seth.
But why? Had he been attacked?
She didn’t know, but she couldn’t leave him there. She rushed outside, her gaze darting around, looking for whatever could have made him like this. He looked up at the sound of her approach—and then he was on his feet, looming in the darkness like a shadow.
Callie stopped short. She’d stepped off the front porch, but she didn’t go further. “Are you okay?”
Seth didn’t say anything at first. And then, as if his voice was rusty from disuse, “Callie?”
She took a step. “It’s me. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
He swore and then shook himself like a dog. Alarm prickled beneath her skin.
“I’m not hurt,” he said, his voice sounding like it traveled over broken glass to reach her. “Go back inside.”
Callie still looked around as if expecting someone to appear, but she wrapped her arms around herself and didn’t retreat.
“I can’t leave you like this. Did you get an alert? Did you hurt yourself somehow when you were coming outside to look?”
He dragged in a breath and shoved his hand over his scalp. She’d noticed he did that when frustrated. “I’m not hurt,” he repeated. “There was no one. I just needed some air. Please go inside.”
The air was cooler at night, and a soft breeze ruffled the loose strands of her hair that had escaped confinement behind her ears.
“I can’t sleep either,” she said. “I’m going inside and pouring a glass of wine. Do you want one?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Beer? Water? Tea? Coffee?”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You aren’t going to leave me alone, are you?”
“I will when you tell me what you want to drink. I’ll go inside and wait for you. Unless you don’t plan on coming in?”
He muttered a few more things she couldn’t make out. “I’ll be in soon. Beer. Thanks.”
Callie went back inside, throwing another look over her shoulder at the man who stood with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. His fists were on his hips. A pair of athletic shorts were slung low, showing off the taut muscles of his abdomen. Seth might eat meatloaf and mashed potatoes and drink Cokes, but the man was unfairly ripped.
Callie retreated to the bedroom to slip on a stretchy bra beneath her T-shirt, then went and poured the wine and uncapped the beer. She took the drinks over to the couch and sat with her feet curled beneath her. A few minutes later, Seth came in. He closed the door quietly behind him, then threw himself onto the opposite end of the couch. She handed him the beer and he took it, tipping it toward her in salute before downing a healthy swig.
“I spent sixteen years in the military, much of it in combat assignments. I have dreams sometimes.”
Callie’s heart ached. It made sense though. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Nothing anybody can do.” He was quiet for a moment. “Truth is, I don’t dream of combat very often. Most of my dreams are about something else.”
“Doesn’t matter what it’s about if it bothers you.”
“I feel trapped and I need air when it happens. That’s why I was outside.” He took another drink. “You can count on me to do the job I came to do. I’m not going to fall apart when you need me most.”
“I didn’t think that.”
He nodded. They were quiet for a while, drinking in the dark, the sounds of the house creaking around them. The bullfrogs were deafening, their song rising repeatedly along with the crickets and other night creatures. It was peaceful living in the country. Or it had been anyway, until she’d started worrying about assassins attacking in the middle of the night.
Seth took another drink and then leveled her with a look. “I feel like I should explain.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I do. I don’t want you thinking I can’t protect you, worrying I won’t be on my game if somebody breaks in.” He shoved his hand through his hair again. “I had a daughter,” he finally said. “I was young, too young, when it happened. She’d be Nikki’s age.”
Callie’s heart throbbed. She didn’t even think before she scooted close enough to squeeze his arm. She wanted to hug him. She refrained because she knew he wouldn’t like it. But losing a child was unthinkable. She hurt for him, couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. And now she understood what had made him dream tonight.
“I’m really sorry, Seth. Being around Nikki can’t be easy for you. I’d understand if you want one of your other guys to come stay with us instead. I’m sorry I let her pester you so long tonight, but she was animated for a change. I liked seeing her that way.”
His glittering gaze met hers. His skin beneath her hand was hotter than she’d expected, and her palm tingled.
“I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to because your confidence in me is shattered.”
“It’s not. I’m trying to be sensitive to your needs.”
“I’m fine. If I’d left every time the job got hard, I wouldn’t have lasted in the Army. They’d have laughed me out on my candy ass and rightfully so. Nikki makes me think of Mia and that hurts, but it’s not her fault. I won’t abandon either of you to make myself feel better.”
Mia.
Callie let him go and settled in her corner again, though what she really wanted was to sit with her side pressed to his, slip her arm around his neck, and pull his head down to her shoulder. “Okay, but I’ll keep her from pestering you. I can redirect her questions when they start.”
“No. Leave her be. She’s had a tough year, and you said she’s opening up again, so don’t do anything to endanger that. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I never talk about Mia, so I’ll ask you to keep what I’ve said to yourself. It’s personal.”
“Of course.” Tread carefully. “Maybe you should talk about it. It might help. With the dreams.”
He twisted the beer bottle in his hands. “Not much point in it. It’s in the past.”
She didn’t know what to make of that, but she knew he was wrong.
“Nikki sees a therapist. About our parents. I think it helps her to deal with her feelings about what happened.”
“And what about you? Do you see a therapist?”
Well, shit. She’d walked into that trap, hadn’t she? “I don’t, but it’s not because I don’t think it’d be helpful. I haven’t had time yet. I will, though.”
“When?”
She was starting to squirm. “After this is over. After I don’t die and I can maybe have a life again that doesn’t involve looking over my shoulder every moment of the day.”
His gaze was knowing. “Not so easy is it?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Thought so.” He stood and finished the beer in one big draft before lowering the bottle. She’d fucked up by pushing the issue. “I’m going back to bed. Thanks for the beer.”
“Sure.”
Her heart throbbed with the urge to ask him to stay and talk to her about anything he wanted. The darkness and uncertainty wasn’t so unbearable when he was near.
But she knew he wouldn’t, and then she’d feel even worse because she would have asked for his company and he would have refused.
His bedroom door closed with a quiet snick of the lock. Callie drank her wine, feeling lost and alone as the silence closed in.
And fearful. Couldn’t forget that one. It surrounded her, pressed down on her, made her feel like the walls of the house were about to collapse and bury her in the rubble.
She shuddered and took another drink.
Something big was coming. But she didn’t know what.