Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
It was the same kind of touch he used with women. Careful, attentive, until they started shaking. Few things gave him more satisfaction than a job well done.
Max glanced over at Devon Whitestone, who was in the stall beside him. Devon waved to show he was finished, too. Max pulled off his ear protectors and his plastic glasses. They both walked over to the counter to clean their weapons. The Colt especially needed extra care.
“Nice shooting out there, sir,” Devon said.
“I know. But you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore.”
Devon grinned. “Pretty sure I do.”
Devon had been dating Max’s sister for several months. At first, Max had not been happy about it. But now, he admitted he’d been unfair to the guy. He’d assumed that Devon would be just as much of a bastard about women as Max was himself.
But Devon was a family man, unlike him. Devon seemed to be made for settling down and making commitments.
Most importantly, he was devoted to Aurora, even though Max still thought the two of them had leaped into a relationship too fast. But Aurora was happier than he’d ever seen her, so Max couldn’t argue with that.
Devon was also a bodyguard for his company, and he was a great asset to Max’s team.
The two of them weren’t totally comfortable socially just yet, but they were getting there.
If Devon kept being good to Aurora, then Max had no doubt that he and the other man would become genuine friends. Max could use a few more of those.
But Devon had the right idea. They weren’t on that level just yet.
Tonight, Aurora was spending the night in Los Angeles for work, so Devon had volunteered to take an evening shift. But the office was quiet, so they’d gotten in some time at the practice range on the lower level of the building.
They walked across the parking area to the elevators. Other practical features were down here, too, including a vault with all their weaponry, an infirmary suite with an on-call doctor, and the gym.
They took the elevator to the main floor. The only other person working here so late was Sylvie.
Max walked over to her. “Do you have an update for me on that matter we talked about? The phone call?”
“The phone call that you definitely did not tell me to trace, because we don’t have permission? Yep. It was a burner. I got the serial number but haven’t been able to follow the trail further. Maybe something will come up. I’ve put feelers out.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Devon came up behind them. “Working on a new case?”
“Nothing important.”
Sylvie raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t say anything. Max didn’t want to tell Devon about Lana’s mysterious “prank” call at her office because he didn’t want to put Devon in the position of keeping anything from Aurora.
And if Aurora found out, there was absolutely no doubt she would go immediately to Lana.
Both because she was concerned, and because Aurora had never held back from picking fights with her older brother.
She thought he was nosy, and she was probably right.
Yet that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to look out for the people he cared about.
He did care about Lana. More than he should.
His cell phone rang in his pocket, and Lana’s name appeared on the screen, like he had summoned her.
Maybe she’d heard back from the judge about a ruling on the hearing. He knew better than to think this was a friendly hello. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Max, I need help.” The panic in her voice sent his heart instantly into his throat.
“I’m pulling up now,” he said to Lana over the phone. “I’ll look around, then I’ll come to your door, okay? Don’t answer till you see me.”
Max parked a few houses down from Lana’s. He and Devon jumped out, and Max drew his M9 from his shoulder holster.
“You take the east side,” he told Devon.
They made a quick perimeter around her block of townhomes. Max’s pulse was racing.
There’s a man. He said he was watching me. I’m afraid he’s outside.
She’d sounded so terrified on the phone, and he wanted to make someone pay for doing that to her. But the place was deserted. The only sign of life was a cat that leaped away when it saw him coming.
He and Devon met up at the front. Max tucked his weapon back into the holster and rang her doorbell. Lana opened it, dressed in just an oversized T-shirt, her legs bare underneath.
“Max.” She launched into his arms. He grasped her tightly against him. Her whole body was shaking.
Max realized this was the first time he’d held her like this in over ten years. That long. Yet it felt completely natural. So right.
“Devon,” she said, seeing the other man. “You’re here, too?”
“I was there when Max got your call.”
“What exactly happened?” Max asked. She’d told him in rough terms, but they’d rushed over here without waiting for a full explanation.
It hadn’t taken more than five minutes for him and Devon to speed their way over to her place.
Luckily, there was no traffic this late at night, and she didn’t live far.
“There was a phone call. It scared me. But maybe I overreacted.”
Max nodded at his employee. “I’ll check things inside, but I think we’re good. You can head back to the office.”
“No problem, sir. Let me know if you need a ride later.”
Max drew Lana inside and shut the door behind them.
She recounted what the voice had said on the phone. Max’s blood heated with rage. He wanted to run the bastard down and grab him by the throat.
“Do you have any idea who it was?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t recognize the voice, but it was kind of harsh. Like maybe he was trying to disguise it. And then I just had this feeling that he was watching me. That he was close. I freaked.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I thought you’d get here faster.”
He had to admit, she had a point there.
Lana stepped back from him, restoring the usual distance between them. “But if I’m inconveniencing you, I’ll call the police instead next time.”
Next time? He didn’t like thinking of a next time. “That’s not what I meant. It’s no inconvenience. I’m happy to be here. But if you’re in trouble, I want myself, Devon, West Oaks P.D., and the National Guard showing up to help you.”
She shrugged, hugging her arms around herself. “I’m grateful that you’re here. Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Let’s make sure you stay that way, he added silently, though he didn’t want to frighten her more right now.
He was thinking of the “prank call” at her office the other day. And now this.
“Shall I take a look around? Just in case?”
They walked through the house, checking doors and windows to make sure everything was secure. Nothing looked like it had been tampered with.
So, this is where Lana lives, he thought. Max had never been here before. There was a casual elegance to the place, though so much of it felt empty. Like maybe she’d had plans to decorate the various rooms but had lacked the time to devote to the project.
Max didn’t have time for decorating either, so he’d just hired an interior designer. Another one of his three-time conquests, actually. Though now, walking beside Lana through her house, he felt guilty even remembering that other woman. She couldn’t compare to Lana, anyway. No one could.
They approached a bedroom. “Hold on. That’s my room. I need to straighten up.”
“But shouldn’t I check it out first?”
“I’ll take my chances.” She threw a smirk over her shoulder and went inside, closing the door on his view of the room.
What was she worried about, that he’d see her underwear lying around? Were they really such strangers now?
Then he answered his own question. Of course they were when it came to intimacy. He’d known Lana for fifteen years, but he’d only been close to her for a tiny percentage of that time.
She opened the door again, emerging with a pair of leggings underneath her tee. Max was disappointed to see the extra clothing. He’d been admiring her slender, toned legs.
“Ready for me?” he asked.
A flash of something like heat passed across her face. “Whatever.”
Max went into her bedroom. The covers were pulled loosely up on her bed.
He glanced around behind the curtains, entered the closet.
It was strange, being on the inside of Lana’s life this way.
This was the space where she slept, where she got dressed.
This was where she hid away from the world and kept everything that she didn’t want anyone else to see.
But he wanted to see it. He wanted that far more than he should.
They went back into the kitchen. Lana had a wine glass in the sink, which she grabbed and filled from a bottle in the fridge. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Max didn’t drink often. He didn’t like dulling his senses.
He sat at a stool at the counter, watching her. “Lana, is someone stalking you?”
She was still turned away from him, but he saw the muscles in her shoulders tighten. “I really don’t think so. Maybe it was just…”
He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “A prank call?”
She sighed, turning around. Her hands rested behind her on the counter, her back arching and her breasts pushing forward.
Shit. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, and then gave up. He let himself glance quickly at her curves. Now that he was seeing past the usual walls that Lana kept against the world—seeing her unguarded—he didn’t want to miss any of it. Because he knew those barriers would soon go right back up.
But when his gaze returned to her face, her eyes were narrowed. “Enjoying the view?”
She was daring him to say yes. Normally, he would’ve had no problem admitting it. Yes, I’m a dick. Big surprise. But that was a distraction, and he wasn’t going to let her wiggle out of this conversation.
“Did the same guy call your office the other day? The person you were yelling at?”
She slumped. “Maybe. He only breathed then. But… I’m pretty sure it was him.”
Outrage made the hairs on his arms raise. “I’m sorry this happened, L. I swear, I’m going to find the guy who did this to you.”
She downed her wine in one gulp. “And do what? Rain down vengeance for a few gross, creepy comments? Maybe I’m too sensitive. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“You didn’t overreact. This is serious.”
“But I can’t deal with it.” She covered her eyes with her hand, turning around. Max got up and went over to her. He put a hand on her shoulder. Lana shrugged it away.
“I wish you would go.”
That stung. But he knew that she was just upset. Type A people didn’t deal well with feeling vulnerable. Max knew that firsthand. “Then why did you call me?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know. I just did. I shouldn’t have.”
“I think it’s because you trust me. And you can, L. You can trust me to keep you safe.”
Even if she shouldn’t trust him with anything else. Like her heart.