Page 40 of Playing with Desire

“I just want to help you out, because I can,” he went on, his tone as genuine as the man himself. “There’s an extra room in the house that’s not being used. You can stay there until you find another place you’re comfortable moving to.”

He gave her a few minutes to think it over, and she came to the conclusion that, with the parameters of their relationship established, the arrangement could work. He was giving her the freedom and ability to keep searching for the right place to live without rushing into a decision, and she felt a sense of relief that the stress and pressure to find another apartment had lessened.

“Okay, you’ve got yourself a roommate and a chef.” She grinned.

He chuckled, looking pleased. “Somehow, I think I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

Three weeks later...

Rick sat inthe boardroom at Noble and Associates, surrounded by Dean and Mac as they discussed a proposed government contract to update their intrusion detection systems against malicious activity on their servers. As head of the Cybersecurity Division, Rick was in charge of the project, which was scheduled to begin the following week.

A few hours into their strategic planning of implementing the software application, Rick’s phone vibrated on the table next to his open laptop. He glanced at the caller ID, which showed what he knew was an international number. One he didn’t recognize.

His heart immediately lurched in his chest, followed by an awful sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The infrequent, sporadic times that Declan called to touch base with Rick was from his own cell, and he hadn’t heard from his stepbrother by phone in the four months since he’d left, just a brief email letting Rick know he was in the Middle East somewhere, trying to infiltrate a terrorist group.

Fearing the worst news, he swallowed hard and glanced up at Dean and Mac. “I’m sorry. I need to take this call.”

His voice sounded like gravel, and both men looked at him with concern but didn’t ask questions—though he was certain they would later.

“No problem,” Dean said, quickly gathering the printout of the contract and standing, along with Mac. “I think we’re done here, so we’ll give you some privacy to take your call.”

Once the two men walked out and closed the door behind them, Rick connected the call. “Hello?” His tone was as cautious as he felt.

“Rick... it’s Declan.”

Hearing his stepbrother’s voice flooded him with relief, and Rick slumped back in his chair. “Jesus Christ, Declan! Seeing an international call from a number I’ve never seen before scared the shit out of me. Why aren’t you calling from your cell?”

“Because it was destroyed in a blast,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I’m on a prepaid.”

Because Declan seemed so impassive, Rick wondered if he was messing around with him, becausedestroyed in a blastdid not have a positive connotation. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I were,” he said, his voice gruffer now. “It was in my tactical bag when my unit was ambushed.”

Resting the back of his head against the chair, Rick pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose, silently praying. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okaynow,” Declan clarified. “I was shot out in the field during the attack. I was hit in the right shoulder. The bullet went clean through, but it did require surgery.”

Rick swore beneath his breath, even as he was grateful that worse hadn’t befallen Declan. “When did this happen?”

There was a slight hesitation, then a reply. “About a month ago.”

“And you’re justnowcalling to tell me?” he yelled into the phone.

“I didn’t want you to worry, because I’m fine,” Declan snapped back testily.

He didn’tsoundfine. The irritable bite to Declan’s words caught Rick off guard, and he forced himself to calm down. “Okay... so are they sending you back out on another assignment?”

“No.” Another pause before Declan finished. “I wanted to let you know that I’m coming home... to figure some shit out.”

Shock rippled through him at his stepbrother’s words. Declan never had shit to figure out. Not when it came to his military career. As happy as he was that Declan was coming home safely and in one piece, Rick instinctively knew something was wrong. More than Declan just being shot in the shoulder.

“What shit?” Rick asked.

“I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

Rick clenched his jaw in frustration, hating that Declan was being vague and evasive about whatever was going on with him. But he also knew better than to push and prod Declan when he wasn’t ready to talk about something.

“Fine,” Rick said, letting the issue go for now. “When are you arriving?”

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