Page 9 of Evening Shadows

Three knocks came again. Not actually knocks. Someone pounded a fist on her door, aggravating her. She had a feeling she knew who that might be, and although her pulse leapt at the possibility, she planned to be cautious since she didn’t expect company. A quick thought jolted her heart. Had they been called for backup and she’d missed the call? She snagged her cell phone on the side table and noted there’d been no alerts or phone calls. A relieved sigh slipped through her. Thank goodness.

Looking down at her clothing, she shrugged, deciding her cut-off jean shorts and navy crop top, with the wordsDon’t Even Think Itstretched across her breasts, would have to do because she planned for this to be a short visit. The top fell a few inches above the waistband of her shorts. Heck, if she reached her hands above her head, she’d probably provide a nice bra shot of her ample chest.

With a chuckle at her doing that for company, she checked the peephole and had guessed right. Ken Patrick. Unexpected heat crept through her body.

Before joining HIS, one of her more imprinted memories of Ken—and Jesse—had been when they’d arrived after the Ranger team returned stateside and completed their lengthy op debrief, including the interviews, the statements, and all that went with the success of their op but also the loss of two special operators. Sam had listened to the two men offer support from the team, actually all Ranger teams, but her grief had been too strong to grasp what they’d selfishly offered. Ken hadn’t given up.

Ken and Lance had been best friends and before she lost her husband, and she and Ken had a close relationship. Although she’d never forgotten, to be fair to her husband and marriage, she’d put their first kiss to the back of her mind. After her husband’s death, they’d remained friends, but she’d drifted in mourning. About a year after Lance’s death, Ken kissed her, asking to become a bigger part of her life. When she’d been too numb to give him more, he’d finally given up and moved to Baltimore. After that, she’d felt abandoned, which she knew was ridiculous as she’d had no hold on him.

When Jesse had sought her out for an opening at HIS, she’d accepted knowing Ken was an agent. She’d missed their friendship and maybe him even more. Even with Bev as her best friend, she’d felt lonely.

Knowing now what she’d just learned about Lance’s death, the job offering had been fortuitous.

When she’d walked into her interview to the five Hamilton brothers, their sister, and their foster brother, she’d almost freaked out at the intimidating interview panel. The atmosphere in the room had changed when Ken—dressed in all black to include a snug T-shirt with his hair pulled back at the base of his neck—slid quietly into the room. Leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed over his massive chest, a calm had settled inside her at Ken’s reassuring presence.

Once she’d joined HIS, Ken’s agenda confused her, keeping her a little off-balance. Outside HQ, their friendship had started afresh, but it had a different feel. With Lance no longer a barrier, the possibility of what could be excited her. The attraction had zinged between them either on or off duty. The only thing holding her back now was whether to go down that road from friends to lovers.

On the flip side, at HQ, he’d done everything to hold her back from doing what she loved. He’d even hovered and informed Jesse she wasn’t ready for an assignment for what seemed the longest time, when she’d been more than ready. When she’d finally deployed, he’d again hovered.

Warring over her growing feelings for Ken and the new intel she’d received, her stomach revolted knowing she had a difficult decision to make. She wished she’d never heard or seen the official information Bev had acquired. Her life had been moving forward on a positive note. She didn’t know what she’d do to reconcile all she’d been told with all she’d read.

Damn that report.She’d felt alive again and now this…. Betrayal buried its way into her heart. Had Ken really lied to her about what happened when Lance had died?

While regaining her calm, she peeked in the small mirror on the wall by the door to check herself. Boy, how she wished she’d had time to down a few of her chocolate-covered mini-donuts. She’d never admit to the unhealthy indulgence that she usually fell to in times of stress or deep thought. She’d probably need an entire bag after this visit because she couldn’t bring herself to share what she’d learned. What he already knew and kept secret.

Even as a flash of Bev reminding her of her loss and convincing her the men should pay, her commitment wavered. Not only did she think she couldn’t kill anyone except those on a mission who deserved it, but Ken…? Her heart lurched to her stomach. She couldn’t believe she promised Bev she’d consider the idea.

After a quick tug to tighten her blonde ponytail, she swung open the door to a frowning man.

She couldn’t handle being in close proximity to him, especially now. It was too difficult to be around him. Once again she felt in mourning. This time it was the loss of what could’ve been. With the hope she’d piss him off enough that he’d leave before entering her apartment, she pasted on her best fake smile and, in a syrupy voice, stated, “I don’t recall inviting you.”

It didn’t work. He narrowed his eyes, and if she hadn’t been trying to repel him, she might’ve laughed at a glare she didn’t find at all intimidating. That was until he briskly pushed his way past her into the living room, motorcycle helmet in hand.

As he passed, he left behind the scent of a rugged man who wore a woodsy cologne she didn’t recognize—not that she was an expert there. The familiar scents reminded her of the time they’d spent together and their passionate kisses. Time had changed for them. Seething at his brisk manner and all she’d learned, she closed the door and followed him into her living room.

When she confronted him, his eyes bulged out and jaw clenched.

“Wha—What the hell are you wearing?”

His harsh tone surprised her. While they’d been professional at work—keeping an obvious distance that she always respected—at home, they let their guard down as friends. She had reason enough to be angry, but he shouldn’t. He’d never spoken to her thus.

Knowing what he meant by his question, but not allowing him to goad her, she looked down at her clothing, then back at him. “Clothes?” Typically at work, and most of the time she’d seen him off-duty, he dressed in a black T-shirt and black cargo pants, or camo if the op deemed it appropriate. But today, he’d tossed that for those damn snug jeans again that made her body crave him. It didn’t help that his gray T-shirt with the HIS logo was probably a size too small. Or so it appeared.

She wanted to go back to before she’d spoken with Bev and her world had changed. Only she and Bev knew it had, but that didn’t change how her moving forward could weigh heavily on her conscience.

“Dammit, Sam, that shirt is too short. You shouldn’t be wearing that in public.”

His absurd commanding arrogance may work when battling an enemy, but she refused to take it from him.

“First”—she pointed her finger at him to emphasize her point—“I’m not in public, and second, I didn’t make you my fashion police.”

He blustered, and that brought a pleasing sensation in her chest. The way he got tongue-tied around her made what she had to do all the harder.

“What do you want?” Realizing she’d balled her hands into fists knowing what he’d done, she slowly relaxed them at her side so he wouldn’t notice.

“We need to talk,” he answered gruffly. Gruff. That personified the man.

“Well then, let’s have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa.

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