Chapter 5
Grant propped his head on his arm and stared at the ceiling.
It had taken every ounce of his restraint not to follow Everly and climb into that bed.
He felt like an ass for pushing her away—the disappointment had been written all over her face—but he was skating on thin ice.
Holding her on the couch had felt good. Too damn good.
He’d gone rock hard at the feel of her warm in his arms, her hair silky against his face and the soft contours of her body pressing into him.
Lucky for him that she’d been too distracted to notice.
With a sigh, he reminded himself that no matter how badly he wanted her, the last thing Everly needed was to get involved with someone like him.
It would lead to nothing but heartbreak, and she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime already.
He picked up his phone and scrolled mindlessly as he lay on the couch, waiting for sleep to come.
Facebook, news headlines—anything to distract him from thoughts of the woman who was sleeping just a few yards away.
He tapped on his messages. He’d texted Noah earlier today, filling him in on the situation and asking for a few days’ leave.
Taylor had approved it immediately, of course.
Anything to help Jeremy’s wife. His widow , he reminded himself.
The phone buzzed in his hand, announcing a text from Evan. Grant tapped on the message icon.
Bad news. Each of these folders has multiple other folders inside of it. And they’re all protected with different passwords.
Damn, he texted back. So it’s gonna be awhile, like you said?
Looks that way, came the response. I’ll keep you posted.
A glance towards the kitchen confirmed that the decryption program was still at work, breaking into the files one by one.
A few days here with Everly, then, while the team scoured the laptop for evidence to explain the break-in.
Grant hoped his gut feeling was correct, even as his mind whirled at the implications of his theory.
How much trouble could Jeremy have gotten into? He tried to think through past conversations, tried to remember any mention of a loan or financial problems. He’d never even seen his friend use a credit card, much less mention borrowing money from anyone. None of this made any damn sense.
He set the phone on the end table and scraped a hand down his face.
STAG would figure this out—it was what they did best. He just couldn’t see the path forward yet, and what it might mean for Everly.
He closed his eyes and made himself as comfortable as he could on the unforgiving sofa. It was going to be a long night.
◆◆◆
Everly was screaming.
Grant was awake in an instant, his hands immediately on his weapon even in the dark.
Did I set the burglar alarm? Was the bedroom window locked?
His mind raced through a host of possibilities in the few steps it took to cross into the hall.
Silvery moonlight illuminated the bedroom as he threw open the door and swept the room.
It was empty except for Everly, who lay in bed with the blankets thrown off, still in the throes of her nightmare.
The adrenaline rush eased a bit as he deposited the gun on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed, then switched on the lamp.
“Everly. Ev, wake up.” He shook her shoulder gently, trying to ignore the way her thin white camisole clung to her breasts.
Not the time, McDowell, he scolded himself, suddenly aware that he had charged in wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “What happened? Did someone find us?”
Grant shook his head. “We’re safe. I heard you screaming. Thought you were in trouble.”
“Oh,” she breathed, leaning back against the headboard. “I had a nightmare. I get them sometimes when I’m really stressed or worried about something. Ever since Jeremy died.” She rubbed her eyes with shaking hands.
He balled his own fists in the blankets to keep from reaching for her. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to tell,” Everly said, drawing her knees to her chest underneath the sheet. “It’s a different dream every time. Nothing too abstract. This time, masked men knocked you out and kidnapped me.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He nodded towards the pistol on the nightstand. “That’s my backup policy in case the burglar alarm fails.”
“I know. It’s just the day catching up with me. And sleeping in a new place.”
Guilt for sending her to sleep alone assailed him. “Can I get you anything? Water?” he offered, as if that would soothe his conscience. She shook her head, and he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 2 AM. “Think you can get back to sleep? Still plenty of night left.”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze settled on his bare chest, and he knew instinctively what she was staring at. The deep scar, still raised and pink in places, that marred the skin between his left pec and his collarbone. A permanent reminder of the attack that had taken her husband.
The room suddenly felt too small, his skin hot under her scrutiny. He shifted on the bed. “Try to get some rest. I’ll be right outside on the couch.”
Everly leaned forward and grasped his arm as he tried to stand. “I need you to stay with me. Just be in here with me. I don’t want to be alone.” She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes that tore at his heart. “Please.”
Shit. Grant battled with himself briefly, but he couldn’t say no. Not when she was in here alone, vulnerable and scared. “I need to grab my clothes,” he said, gently removing his arm from her grip.
“Forget that. Just lay down.” She reached over and flipped down the blankets on the other side of the bed, then shot him a look that brooked no argument. “You think I’ve never seen a guy in his underwear before? It’s fine.”
He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.” As obediently as if he’d been ordered by Lockhart himself, Grant walked around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the quilt so that the other blankets were beneath him.
For the second time that night, he stared at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head, trying to think about anything except the woman beside him.
Everly switched off the lamp, and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight as she arranged the blankets over herself.
He wanted to slide over to her, to wrap her in his arms and hold her for the rest of the night.
To chase away whatever demons she was fighting.
But he forced himself to lay on the edge of the bed, as far from her as he could possibly manage, and gritted his teeth.
“Grant?” she whispered when the sheets stopped rustling.
“Hmm?”
“The scar on your chest…is that from the attack?”
He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”
“Does it—”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he interrupted, more gruffly than he’d intended. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Everly turned away from him, the moonlight casting a glow across the bare skin of her shoulder and back. Grant allowed himself the briefest glimpse before he squeezed his eyes shut and listened to her breathing even out. At least one of them would sleep tonight.
He’d get her through this. Protect her from everything outside these walls. It was what she did to him inside them that scared the hell out of him.
◆◆◆
Andrei whistled as he walked into his half-brother’s makeshift office, the cocaine he’d snorted earlier humming in his veins.
The bastard would regret making him wait for an appointment like a common customer.
Especially in a moldy old lab at the ass-end of nowhere, where the walls sweated and the foundation groaned with every step.
He strode in and plastered on a smile, a practiced look he’d perfected over the years to hide his disdain. The look Mikhail gave him was equally bored in return.
The elder Andropov arched an eyebrow. “Yes? What’s so important that it warranted an interruption?”
Andrei produced the flash drive from his pocket with a flourish and laid it on the desk. “You’ll want to see this.”
Mikhail didn’t even blink. “What the hell is it? I don’t have time for your games. Out with it.”
Anger bubbled inside him, but he pushed it down and nudged the drive towards his brother. “The missing Holland files. I found them.” He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels like a schoolboy.
Mikhail snatched the flash drive up like a bird plucking a worm from the grass. “Holland? How did you manage this?”
“I’ve been watching the house,” Andrei announced. “I took the opportunity to let myself in when she and her new boyfriend stepped out yesterday.”
Mikhail said nothing, but his jaw set in that hard way that Andrei knew meant he was displeased. Well, the old son of a bitch wouldn’t be unhappy with him when he realized that Andrei had just solved all his problems.
“Very irregular. This is not how I like to do business,” Mikhail finally said, turning the drive over in his hand. He looked back up at Andrei. “You’re sure these are the files we’ve been missing?”
Irritation flashed through him at the implication in his brother’s voice. The underlying assumption that he was still a foolish little boy with nothing to contribute to the family business. “Checked them myself yesterday. Go ahead, have a look.”
Mikhail plugged the drive into the laptop on his desk and waited, the light of the screen illuminating his face.
His eyebrows raised and then furrowed as he tapped hard on the keyboard.
“ Durak blyad !” he exploded, so loudly that Andrei jumped.
He turned the laptop around and jabbed the arrow key, images flying so fast that Andrei could barely register what he was looking at. “These are the files we already have!”
A cold pit formed in Andrei’s gut. Could he truly have botched this so badly? Had the cocaine fogged his brain so that he didn’t know what he was looking at?