It was the truth—or part of it.
Laura took another sip of coffee, watching him over the rim of her cup. “I can see you as a personal trainer. Why did you choose to do something different?”
Between bites of his breakfast, Javier told her how he’d slowly come to feel that what he was doing was meaningless. He’d gotten tired of listening to people’s bullshit excuses for missing workouts, of bored Hollywood wives trying to get into his pants during sessions their wealthy husbands had paid for, of people saying they wanted to improve their health and change their lives and then giving up without really trying.
“I was twenty-four and going nowhere, doing nothing. I felt restless, like I was wasting my life. I wanted to
Something that would make his parents and
“So you enlisted.”
He nodded. “One of the other trainers had a client who’d lost a leg serving with Delta Force in the Battle of Mogadishu in ’93. He was in the gym six days a week, working hard, doing his best to stay fit. He never made excuses, never missed a workout, never complained. I was watching him one day when I realized there was a way I could do something meaningful with my physical strength. I talked with a few recruiters, then signed on for the toughest challenge I could find.”
She was watching him still, a soft smile on her face. “I think that’s noble.”
“Did your family support you?”
Even as a part of him hated himself for hiding the truth from her, another part savored how it felt to sit here talking with her like this, still damp from his shower, Laura still in her nightgown and bathrobe. They’d had a couple of mornings like this in Dubai—except that neither of them had been wearing anything then.
“Once they got over the surprise, yeah, they were okay with it, though my mother and poor
“I can’t blame them. What you do—it’s incredibly dangerous. I’ve seen a team in action, remember? The men who rescued me almost got shot down.”
Javier wanted so much to tell her that he’d been on that helo beside her, that he was the one who’d tried to reassure her when the RPG explosions had scared her. He wanted to tell her, but couldn’t. “It’s a helluva way to make a living, I’ll give you that.”
“How long have you been a SEAL?”
“Fourteen years. I enlisted in 1998, and earned my Trident in ’99 before—”
A knock at the door made Laura jump.
He stood, hating to see fear on her face. “Expecting company?”
They’d buzzed no one in, and neither the DPD nor Agent Killeen had called to say they were coming up.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Stay here.” Javier walked quickly and silently across the room, positioning himself off to the side of the entrance so he wouldn’t be hit if someone fired rounds through the closed door. He drew his SIG. “Who is it?”
“It’s Kathleen Parker. I’m Laura’s neighbor.”
Relief on her face, Laura got to her feet and walked toward the door. “I recognize her voice.”
Javier looked out the peephole just to be certain no one was holding a gun to Kathleen’s head, then holstered his weapon and opened the door to find a woman—late thirties, maybe five six—standing there in brown yoga pants and a light green fleece jacket, her dark blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her gaze shifted nervously from Javier to Laura. “May I come in?”
Laura motioned for her to step inside. “Yes. Of course.”
Kathleen eyed Javier’s gun. “Are you a police officer?”
Laura opened her mouth as if to answer, but Javier beat her to it. “I’m part of Ms. Nilsson’s protection detail.”
“Oh.” Kathleen turned to face Laura, looking nervous. “First, I just want to say I’m glad you weren’t hurt. What happened yesterday was terrible.”
She had that part right.
“I appreciate your support. Thank you.”
Kathleen’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Some of us in the building have been talking. We’re concerned that you’re endangering all of us by staying here. We think it would be better for everyone if you stayed somewhere else until this was over or maybe even sold your loft and found a more secure place to live.”
Javier felt his temper spike, saw the hurt and anger on Laura’s face as Kathleen’s words struck home.
“You want me to sell my home and move so you can feel safer?”
“That’s not what I said.” Kathleen shook her head in protest.
Javier crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, that’s exactly what you said.”
“Kathleen, I understand it must make you nervous, but everything that can be done to keep me safe—to keep us all safe—is being done. The FBI and—”
“Yesterday, this building was crawling with armed men. SWAT was even here.” Kathleen lowered her voice. “My children saw men
How could these people be so lacking in courage that the sight of men sent to protect them freaked them out? What a bunch of limp-dick cowards!
Laura’s expression had gone sympathetic. “I understand how that might be upsetting, and I’m sorry, but I am not going to be driven out of my home.”
But Javier had had enough of Kathleen Parker.
He opened the door. “Visiting hours are over.”
Kathleen gaped at him for a moment, seeming to realize that she was being told to leave. She glanced back at Laura, her expression hard. “You’re bringing trouble to our doorsteps, and we don’t want—”
“Later.” Javier shut the door, locked it.
Laura met Javier’s gaze, a stunned look on her face. “My neighbors want me to leave, to sell my loft and move out? I can understand why they’re anxious, but . . . This is my home.”
Javier shook his head in disgust. “It’s like my sweet
Of course, a time or two when she’d said that, she’d been talking about him.
LAURA OPENED HER office door, almost shaking from frustration, her head throbbing. She walked into the kitchen, got herself a glass of water, and set it down on the counter, not really thirsty.
Javier stood. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” She picked up the glass and drank every drop, then set it down again. “The paper’s publisher and board of trustees don’t want me to come back to work.”
Dark brows bent in a frown. “What?”
She turned, paced the length of the kitchen. “They told me they’re afraid for my safety and the safety of the rest of the staff. They want me to take the rest of the week off to recover, but they don’t want me back in the office on Monday. They think it would be best for everyone if I worked from home for the time being. They’re probably right.”
“Sounds to me like they’re afraid of being sued.”
“They’re not brave enough to say that, so they pretend it’s all out of concern for me.” She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temple. “First my neighbors want me to move out, and now the paper doesn’t want me around. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me, but I can’t just run and hide.”
She stiffened in surprise to feel Javier’s big hands on her shoulders.
