Chapter Two
ALICE
Iwoke sometime in the night, blinking into the dark, instantly aware I was not in my own bed. I rolled to my side to find Cooper sleeping on top of the covers, an arm's length away.
I was in Cooper's bed. Cooper's apartment.
More importantly, Cooper was in Cooper's bed. With me. Not under the same covers, but still. What the hell?
I thought about getting up, sneaking out, and going down to my own place.
As soon as the thought entered my mind, I pushed it away.
I was warm and comfortable, except for the throb in my head and the ache in my shoulder and hip.
My stomach churned from the pain pills. I wasn’t fully nauseous, but if I got up—nope, not going to happen. I let sleep pull me under.
The morning sun speared my eyes as the mattress beside me depressed, and I rolled into a hard body. Squinting into the light, I realized my hand was on Cooper's thigh, my shoulder braced on his hip. He was sitting on the side of the bed next to me, and I was groping him. Crap.
I snatched my hand back and tried to sit up, pinned by the sheet Cooper sat on.
“Can you eat breakfast?”
I stopped trying to sit up and thought about it. My head still hurt. A lot. Enough that I might take another dose of the pain meds, and if I took the pills I’d need food in my stomach or I might throw them back up.
Like the creepy mind reader that he was, Cooper nodded before I spoke a single word.
“You need breakfast so you can take the pain pills.
Good you're not going to be a pain in the ass about it.
I got one of the grunts to pick up takeout from Annabelle's. Breakfast sandwich, coffee, and a cookie if you behave yourself.”
I thought about busting his chops for the behave myself comment, but if he had breakfast from Annabelle's I’d keep my mouth shut.
Annabelle was a friend who owned a café.
Everyone at Sinclair Security was a regular, even though there were closer options.
While Annabelle was an artist with coffee, anything that came out of her kitchen was divine.
I sat up awkwardly and swung my feet to the side of the bed, sucking in a breath at the woosh of my empty stomach.
Still queasy from the pills I'd taken the night before and the throb in my head, I let Cooper pull me to my feet and walk me across the room.
He nudged me into the bathroom and left, calling out behind him, “If you're not out of there in five minutes, I'm coming in after you.”
He would, too. That was okay. I didn't need five minutes to go to the bathroom and wash my hands and face. I tried not to look too closely in the mirror. I looked like crap and there was nothing I could do about it.
My usually neat bob was a mess, my black hair sticking out all over the place, bangs a disaster. Every shred of makeup from the day before was long gone. I looked about as good as someone who'd been through an explosion could expect to look.
At least all my parts were in the right place. At least I wasn't dead. I had a flash of the man coming down the stairs, of raising the gun and squeezing the trigger, his feet flying from the steps as the house bucked from the explosion.
I'd heard people with head injuries couldn't remember the things that happened when they got hurt. Too bad I wasn't one of them. I remembered squeezing the trigger with crystalline clarity.
I thought of the little boy in the safe room. Adam. Innocent and still alive because he had me between him and the bad guys. That was what I had to focus on.
Looking down, I caught what I was wearing and winced. An oversized Sinclair Security T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants cut off at the knee. Neither of them mine. I knew who they belonged to.
I'd seen them both often enough when Cooper stopped at the desk after a morning workout.
Why was I wearing Cooper's clothes? He could get into my place.
He proved that when I walked into the main room of the apartment to see a stack of my things on the kitchen island.
A lightweight zip-up hoodie and matching tank.
A pair of lace bikini panties and soft lounging pants that flared into ruffles just below the knee.
I was going to ignore the fact that Cooper had been in my underwear drawer. I hoped it was Cooper. “Please tell me you didn't send one of the grunts to root around in my underwear drawer.”
Cooper shot me a wicked grin. My heart skipped a beat. “I got you some things I thought you'd need. Eat your breakfast before you change, or it will get cold.”
A flash of relief at the knowledge that one of the junior employees hadn't been rifling through my underwear drawer, then heat hit my cheeks as I imagined Cooper at my dresser, taking in lacy wisps of nothing right next to my granny-panties, my laundry-day underwear, and the underwear I only wore when I had my period. Oh, great.
Deciding not to think about it, I picked up my still-warm breakfast sandwich, hoping the buttery croissant and smoky bacon would do something to dull the pain in my head. Cooper slid a to-go coffee cup with the logo of Annabelle’s Café in front of me.
I knew it would be a skinny vanilla latte.
That’s what I drank, and Cooper knew everything.
After nine years, he wouldn’t get my coffee order wrong, even though I was the one who always ordered the coffee.
Swallowing the bite of sandwich, my stomach grateful for food, I took a sip.
Yep, skinny vanilla latte. Two white pain pills sat beside the cup.
I took them without argument, washing them down with another sip of latte and another bite of sandwich.
Maybe with food in my stomach they wouldn’t make me so queasy. Cooper had thought of everything.
Just when I was feeling all warm and appreciative, Cooper had to open his mouth and ruin it. “I have to go to work. You’re staying here. Rest. Watch TV or something. Just stay still.”
“I can work,” I insisted, though for once I didn’t really want to. If something came up I could be there, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Not with this headache.
Cooper didn’t bother to reply. He shoved his phone in his pocket and turned to go. “I’ll check in on you later, bring you lunch. When Agent Holley gets here, I’ll bring him up.”
I popped off of my stool, putting down my sandwich to follow him to the door. “You don’t have to bring me lunch, Cooper. I have food downstairs. As soon as I finish eating I can go—”
“You’re staying here,” Cooper said again.
“Why?” I had to ask.
“Because I don’t trust you in your place. You need to rest. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”
I stalked behind him as he headed for the door, trying to ignore the throb in my head with every step. I was still staring at his back as the door closed behind him, the deadbolt turning with a snick.
Wait a second, why would he lock the door from the outside? I could just… I reached out to flip the lock open. The bolt refused to turn. It might as well have been welded in place.
Did that bastard just lock me in?
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the door.
He had. Cooper Sinclair had locked me in.
I stood there, thinking. I could pitch a fit, call the office and raise hell demanding he let me out. I could, but if I went to war with Cooper, I wasn’t sure I’d win. The guys would have their hands full dealing with the aftermath of the explosion and the man I’d shot.
Just this once, I’d stay put. Just this once. I didn’t want Cooper getting any ideas he could order me around whenever he wanted.
I finished my breakfast, leaving the cookie for later, and brought my coffee to the huge L-shaped couch facing the gigantic TV.
Cooper’s couch was more than big enough for his tall frame.
It swallowed me whole. Plumping up the soft pillows and dragging a blanket over me, I grabbed the remote and decided to channel surf.
That lasted less than an hour. Nothing against TV.
I binge-watched here and there, but not like this, just lying on the couch doing nothing.
I’d turn on the TV for company when I cooked or worked on one of my projects, but just sitting around?
Even with the pain pills kicking in, I wasn’t bored enough for that.
It’s a vice or a virtue depending on your point of view, but that’s me—if I’m not sleeping, I’m moving. I’m constitutionally incapable of vegging in front of the TV.
I changed the station to one with music and sat up, only a little woozy from the headache and the pain pills. Once my brain settled in my skull, I got up and looked around for something to do.
Cooper’s place was decorated in a style I think of as vintage bachelor. Not a lot of knickknacks, only a handful of pictures—mostly him with his brothers and friends. The main room was flooded with light, one whole wall dominated by more of the floor-to-ceiling windows he had in his bedroom.
This part of Cooper’s place was open plan, each space flowing into the next.
The kitchen was all stainless steel and black granite, with breakfast counter and island beside a dining space with a long, dark, shiny table, gleaming in the morning sun.
The lounging area with the couch and huge tv was opposite both.
What I could see from here was spacious, but Cooper’s place covered the entire floor. There had to be a lot more than his bedroom and the open plan living area. What else did Cooper have up here?
I felt not a smidge of hesitation as I set out to explore. If he didn’t want me to poke around he shouldn’t have locked me in his apartment. He would reap what he’d sown.
He’d gone through my underwear drawer? I had all day to go through his.
Never mind the flutter in my chest at the thought of Cooper’s underwear. You have nothing to do with Cooper’s underwear, I reminded myself.
I wandered down the hall to Cooper’s bedroom and discovered a laundry room with a massive washer and dryer, one whole wall neatly organized with a bench, hooks hung with jackets, cubbies filled with boots and running shoes.
That room led into another that was empty except for a padded floor.
A tall wooden staff leaned against the wall, a few sets of free weights beside it.
Why did Cooper have a home gym when he had the company gym downstairs?
I took in the room again and realized he used it to practice his martial arts.
They had a sparring room downstairs, but I could see he might want privacy sometimes.
Or just quiet. I didn’t spend much time in the company gym.
Despite the eye candy, it was weird being one of the only women with all those guys.
Anyway, I liked to take classes. I couldn’t imagine anyone on the team doing Zumba.
Further down the hall I passed Cooper’s bedroom again and decided to save that for last. There were three more bedrooms, one filled with a bunch of boxes and an old desk. The other two were decorated in generic guest room.
The hall turned and I faced two doors—one an interior door that could have led anywhere. I wouldn’t know because it was locked. The other door was painted to match the interior, but after a knock, I realized it was metal. Did it lead outside? Maybe that was the stairwell door. It, too, was locked.
I turned and headed back to Cooper’s bedroom, swaying as I walked. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken prescription pain meds. They hit me hard. Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t at work. I’d probably end up ordering five hundred reams of paper instead of five or fucking up the schedule.
Still, Cooper didn’t have to lock me in. Grumbling under my breath about controlling asses, I went straight for Cooper’s closet. What was good for the goose and all that.
Cooper’s closet was as neat and organized as I’d expected. Everything hung just so, arranged by color and type. His sock drawer was the same. I had my hand on the pull for the drawer above, saw just enough to catch rows of neatly folded boxers, when from behind me I heard, “Snooping?”
I jumped, spinning to face him, and wobbled, the sudden motion sending a stab of pain through my head. Hands closed over my shoulders, gently steadying me. Cooper looked down, a smirk on his face. “Don’t let me stop you. You want to look at my underwear, Alice?”
I glared up at him. Why was he so tall? My head swimming, I blurted out, “What are you doing up here?”
“I told you to stay put. You’re supposed to be resting, not wandering all over the place.”
His words trickled through my ears, into my brain, slowly assembling a picture that sent my temper skyrocketing.
He’d said he wanted me where he could keep an eye on me.
He knew I’d been wandering all over the place.
“You have cameras in here,” I accused.
Cooper’s icy blue eyes stared back, admitting nothing, but I didn’t need the words.
Cooper ran Sinclair Security. Surveillance was part of what they did, and they were damn good at it.
I should know. I helped order the equipment, had been a guinea pig for testing.
Most of the building was wired, except for the second-floor apartments and Cooper’s place.
“When did you put in cameras?”
That smirk still curling his lips, Cooper said, “This morning. What do I have to do to get you to lay down and rest?”
Mulishly, I said, “Give me my laptop.”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” I turned around and started to open his underwear drawer again.
“You really like navy-blue, don’t you? I don’t know why I never noticed that.
Maybe because everybody wears blue suits, and I’d never seen your bedroom, or your underwear—” Cooper reached around me and pushed the drawer shut.
“Fine, I’ll bring you your laptop.”
“And a phone.”
“No fucking way. No phones. Just the laptop, and if you get sleepy you take a nap. Agreed?”
“Fine.” I stalked back to the living room. Or, I tried to stalk. Between the effects of the pain pills and my headache, it was probably more like a shuffle. Cooper strode to the door.
“I’ll be back with your laptop. Agent Holley will be here in an hour or two, so you might want to change. Or not. You look good in my T-shirt.”