Chapter Ten
Quaid ate everything Niles handed him for dinner. Fuel. Alanna picked at most things but finished the soup. She gazed around the kitchen staring at this and that, and he found himself doing the same, wondering what she thought but reluctant to break the peaceful silence.
The kitchen was the heart of the first floor, off the dining room and open to the living room.
Wide counters of pale marble wrapped around a large central island, leathered stools lined one side, and the appliances were large commercial grade, not showy.
It was the one room they actually lived in.
He had Cait to thank for the aesthetic. He’d copied the vibe of her kitchen to get his right.
Alanna’s silence bothered him, but she’d earned it. He coaxed her up the stairs to the guest room and left her with the white marble tub filling with warm water, a counter filled with lotions and bath oils, plush towels, and all the privacy he could muster.
He listened. He waited. From across the hall in his bedroom.
Until she finally opened the bedroom door, a lavender T-shirt nightgown covering her and a towel around her neck for her long dark tresses. She hadn’t even groused about her new clothes. Progress. He handed off her service weapon. She checked the load and put it by the bed.
“Security is in the house. There shouldn’t be any problems.”
She stayed silent, and he took the hint. She sagged onto the edge of the bed as he left the room. Let her sleep, Quaid. Otherwise, he’d be providing questionable cover. Too close. Too fast. Too protective.
Conners and Patina were efficiently monitoring the property, checking every security detail.
His office to the side of the living room was security central, close to Operations at QM, though not as big.
Monitors, alarms, surveillance. 24/7. Niles was a ghost, everywhere and nowhere.
He took the safety of this house personally.
Of course, he lived here, too. This was their primary residence.
Quaid took to the shower and took longer than normal to wash off the day. He needed the jets, the hot water, the long minutes listening to the water pulse from the showerheads. The one thing he’d never adapted to in the military was communal barracks and tiny showers. This was why.
He dried off, and in deference to Alanna, found a gray pair of pajama bottoms. He was tired, but not enough to go to sleep yet.
He glanced over the two books laying there, decided neither suited, then switched the lighting in his room to one bedside brass lamp.
He opened the sliding door, stepped onto the small balcony, and blew out the bottled stress sitting in his chest. He slipped into the weathered teak chair and relaxed into the night silence and the ocean’s soft shush.
A second chair sat on the other side empty, always empty.
He sat for a long time. Random music lyrics teased his memory with a blood of the damned, redemption, and homecoming theme, stirring memories of lost friends.
Groaning, Quaid rose. He was in bad shape mentally, matching Alanna.
The comfort of his king-size bed with its white linens and gray blankets beckoned.
With the television silenced, he pulled his own weapon from the drawer and put it within reach, then he propped open his door and Alanna’s. No sense not being attuned to threats.
With the ease of the last few years of practice, he fell into sleep, one ear open to trouble.
Hours later, Quaid heard the indrawn, panicked hiss of breath and sat upright in his bed, listening again. But she didn’t cry out, didn’t make another sound. Dream?
But with awareness of her distress, he came fully awaked.
“Quaid?”
She stood in the doorway, her hand on the frame. Her lavender nightshirt shaped the sweet curves of her body and reflected the dim moonlight.
He cleared his throat, shutting down a visceral male reaction. “Come here. Dream?”
She walked slowly to him, as if unsure she was awake. “Strange place. Where are we?”
“My house.” He patted the bed, then grabbed a light gray blanket from the foot and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She was fragile, but not like glass. More like an IED waiting to explode.
“Thank you.”
He kept his arm around her, coaxing her to lean against him. “I’m right here.”
“Not sleeping?”
“Lightly, but aware of every noise.”
“Me, too.”
At a crossroads. That’s where he was. He could either be a partner or he could be the man who took care of her, supported her, trusted her. Time to choose.
He shoved the covers away, fluffed the pillows, and smoothed out the middle. “Move over, Lani. Lay down.”
She gazed at him a minute, then did as he ordered. Surprise.
“I didn’t mean to steal your bed.”
“You didn’t.” He climbed in next to her, ignored her sharp gasp, and rearranged the covers.
“Quaid?”
He pulled her to him, situating her head on his shoulder. “Sleep, Lani. We aren’t going to beat him tired.”
No answer. He didn’t attempt words. Action was better.
She stayed tense for a while, but didn’t shift away. When she finally sagged, sleep drawing her in again, Quaid exhaled and relaxed.
He didn’t move. He didn’t let her roll away, not that she tried. In fact, he pulled her closer, her warm breath on his neck, breast pressing to his side, and her lax body easing next to his. He allowed himself one silent groan.
He finally closed his eyes, too, drawn by her warmth and the promise of sleep. A quote popped into his head. “Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will shake the world.”
How that turned out would be anyone’s guess.
&&&&&&&&&&
QM International Situation Brief: 08:15:30 PST 12/18 – San Diego HQ. Threat remains active. Suspect location unknown. Security Level 3 remains in effect. Report all suspicious activity to HQ. ?
Alanna woke with a clarity at odds with her usual grogginess. Quaid’s bed. She’d come here in the middle of the night. What had she been thinking? She never let herself be this vulnerable.
Not thinking. Panicking.
She eased her eyes open, noted the gray patterned comforter tucked around her, and the empty space.
Alone. The early morning light stayed behind the edges of the blinds making it impossible to gauge time, and she’d left her phone in her room.
She sat up, noting with relief that her nightshirt remained on.
Sometimes when she slept, she got too hot and shucked whatever she was wearing.
“You’re awake.” Dressed Quaid strode into the room, two coffee mugs in hand.
“PD had no luck finding Mercer. But Hunt is on his way to QM. He’s got some new information.
You ready to get the day started?” He handed her a white mug, filled to the rim with coffee and steam rising from the top.
The first whiff made her grateful she hadn’t needed to ask.
But she had to know. “Why didn’t you send me back to my own bed?”
Quaid opened the closet doors and pulled out a white dress shirt while sipping his own coffee. His black slacks had perfect creases, his undershirt accented serious muscles, and his bare feet against the dark wood floors sent an intimate message she wasn’t ready for, but…she wasn’t looking.
“You were half-asleep and panicked. I figured sleep was a better option. You wouldn’t have in a strange bed, not without knowing someone had your back. And I do. I did pull you out of a pool.”
She couldn’t help the laugh and didn’t try. “Did we…?” She stopped herself. He wouldn’t have. No need to even ask.
He stepped to the bed, his coffee cup abandoned on the dresser and the white shirt hung on the knob. She got a glimpse of his intense brown eyes and was sorry she’d even uttered the sentence.
“Did we what, Lani?” His quiet tone tore through her.
“Sleep? I don’t remember talking.”
“We didn’t. But that wasn’t what you were going to ask.”
She had no idea what to say. Her original question was obvious, but she didn’t need an answer. “I figured it out on my own.”
“What? Did we have sex?” The intensity of the words dropped like an earthquake into the room.
“Yeah, but I know we didn’t.” She’d feel it. Quaid had no idea how inexperienced she was, and it wasn’t something she’d forget then fall asleep.
“Let’s be clear.” He leaned over the bed and took her chin, tipping her face to his. “I require a yes for intimacy. I don’t do me too territory. Ever. Understand?”
She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t break from the anger in his eyes. “I’m sorry I even thought it, but thanks for having my back while I slept.” She absolutely wouldn’t acknowledge how his words swept through her, stirring unfamiliar, desperate wants, and enticing every step of the way.
He didn’t reply. He pulled away. “Let’s go, Williams. We’re needed at QM.” He grabbed his shirt and entered the bathroom, the door snapped closed behind him.
“Good one, Alanna. Insult the man.” There was a time when she wouldn’t have cared, but this time she did. He’d become her partner and her friend. He could be more if she could only put this damn trauma to bed.
She grabbed her coffee and went her bedroom.
Dressing was an adventure because none of her clothes were here.
Niles kept putting stuff in the closet, mostly things she wouldn’t have bought herself, but the man had a fine-tuned sense of what would suit.
Today, was no exception. Black slacks hung in the closet with a simple white button-down shirt and a herringbone jacket.
New black work boots were on the floor. It draped perfectly, would cover her weapon, and wasn’t all black, but kept her in FBI dress code.
Time was ticking. She put down her coffee and took the clothes to the bathroom. Emerging twenty minutes later, Quaid was leaning on the door frame to his room, phone in hand, texting fingers going a mile a minute.
“Problem?”
“No. Updates from Elizabeth. You ready?”
Brisk. Unemotional. Business.
She deserved the non-personal treatment.