Page 24 of Night Justice

It took all of Sam’s experience not to react. Lance’s body was injured, but his attention and brain weren’t. “I went in to gather information. Yes, I’ve been keeping an eye on Orla Karlsen. She’s moved quickly and gained access to the information we could use.”

The former Navy Seal eyed him for a long moment and nodded.

Lance turned and stumbled a little. Sam being the closest rushed forward and steadied him, careful of his bad side. But when the man’s strong hands closed hard on the back of his neck and arm, Sam tensed. Lance appeared to need help to the two other team members, but Sam realized he was the one in trouble.

In a low voice only he could hear, Lance gave him a piece of his mind. “I believe you when you say she’s an asset. I believe you that she’s a lead that will help us, a sort of ally, but don’t think I don’t know you fucked her in that garage. I don’t mind where you’re putting your dick, but I don’t want this mission, or our organization compromised. I won’t tolerate it. Am I making myself clear?”

As he helped lower Lance to his chair, Sam nodded. He knew the difference between emotions and lust. It was obvious he was attracted to the woman; there was something about her that made his body hum. However, she was the best lead they had to stop the incoming Phantom release in the city. That took precedence, and even if he was honest enough with himself to care about the woman, he wasn’t about to get sidetracked. Not now, not ever.

Chapter Twelve

Her bodyand mind were turning against her, and there was nothing Orla could do. It was as if two forces battled inside her; one was begging her to take cover, to hide from impending danger, the other screaming at her to get up and fight.

Orla knew she was safe in her apartment and wasn’t in danger, nor in the middle of a war zone, and she fought memories and emotions her brain brought to the surface that tried to convince her otherwise. This was Chicago; she was safe. She’d escaped a firefight because of her reaction, experience, and skills. Why then was she hiding in the corner, holding the briefcase like a lifeline and trying to bring herself back to reality?

So cold it hurt to move, her muscles seized. Her therapist’s voice whispered in her head, telling her to take her meds if she needed to, to reach out if she was in trouble, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

Air burned like fire, the sensation of drowning growing, and her vision tunneled and slowly closed in on her, even though she knew the light in her kitchen was on.

“It’s only anxiety; you can push through.”

The mantra made her shiver, triggering her to painfully crawl to her bed. Her medication was on her bedside table, as her panic attacks tended to happen following a nightmare. However, from the way she was shaking, the short distance appeared impossible to cover in her tortured mind.

Her heart beat fast, trying to tear itself out of her chest, so much that she pressed her palm against it to keep it in. Orla prayed for it to end, and as she took in breath after breath, her heart rate slowed and the living room seemed brighter.

“Orla!”

Despite the buzzing in her ears, the voice modulator over the male tone couldn’t be ignored. The Vigilante. How he’d got into her apartment, hell, her secured building, was another matter entirely. She felt him approach from the side before crouching next to her. He moved fast, and she jumped away in pure reaction. From what she knew of him, her reaction was ridiculous. If this man intended to kill her, she’d already be dead. Death was a welcome option.

“Are you hurt?”

Before she could formulate words, he was tugging at the large black coat still covering her body. His touch was harsh, clinical, and had the effect of both grounding her, and causing the little warmth she’d conserved to dissipate. She didn’t shiver, but her muscles bunched even more, and the cold finally helped clear her mind, and she looked at him.

He had a thick black mask molding his face; the material almost seemed like it was absorbing light. His gloved hands touched her cheek, giving her more time to observe him. The few times she’d seen him, he was in the shadows where he blended in so well.

Now, in the soft glow of light, the vigilante was a large and powerful figure, as frightening as the mask covering his features and his eyes, almost turning him into a tall, dangerous, alien -like creature.

Satisfied she hadn’t been harmed, he closed the coat over her, leaned back on his haunches, took a deep breath, and placed his elbows on his knees. “Are you okay, Orla? Talk to me.”

Tired, but knowing she was better, she signaled to him to help her stand. She’d regained some control, but she wasn’t stupid enough to not take one of her pills.

Wobbly at first, Orla leaned on him until she’d recovered her balance, and was reminded immediately of his strength when he’d held her, fucked her. That and the smell of leather, gas, and neoprene that now filled her nose.

With the firm intention of not letting the unexpected lust cloud her already weakened mind, Orla picked up the briefcase, stepped away from the vigilante, and headed for her room.

Her free hand skimmed the wall leading to the back of her apartment, steading her, so she didn’t fall on her face. The man followed but kept his hands to himself. Orla would’ve preferred he’d stayed in the living room, and when she finally stepped over the threshold of her bedroom, she kicked the door closed in his face.

Part of her wished he’d kick the door open, but instead, he knocked. A gentlemanly vigilante, that was something else, another piece of information she tucked away for later because even though she’d been sidetracked by the Phantom investigation, she wasn’t ready to give up on her other investigation.

“Orla, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much. You probably already know what happened earlier. I would’ve said hello, but I was unexpectedly swept away by an anxiety attack.” It was never easy to admit, but there was no other way to say it. Instead of wallowing, she grabbed the pill bottle stashed in her drawer and swallowed a pill.

“Is this caused by your PTSD? Does it happen often?”

Her body froze for an instant. “How did you know that?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t check up on you? On your past?”

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