Heath looked at the stairs.
“Go calm her down. She was nervous as a cat facing a squirt gun earlier.” Denver sat at his computer.
Heath swallowed. “I know. Make sure you pretend to head to bed by midnight just in case the killer is ready to roll.”
“Yep.”
Heath strode for the stairs and quickly entered the sprawling apartment to listen. Heartbeats in the other room, Ryker’s low murmur, Zara’s laugh. The electromagnetic buzzing from sensors surrounded him, and he mentally checked their frequency. Perfect.
He flexed and relaxed his hands several times before crossing the living area to Anya’s bedroom. His bedroom, too. He knocked and waited for her call to enter.
She sat on the bed, her glorious hair pulled up and her face freshly scrubbed. In her yoga pants and Wonder Woman T-shirt, she looked fresh and innocent. Fragile. The bed spread in every direction, way too big for her, making her seem even smaller. She looked up and shut the file she was reading. Her lips were a white line, and stress had drawn dark circles under her pretty eyes. “The wait is killing me.”
Bile rose in his throat at her terminology. If anything happened to her, he wouldn’t be able to breathe ever again. “Do you understand the plan?”
“Yep. Zara and I wait in her reinforced room. You guard the door while Ryker and Denver position themselves downstairs. You gave me that Lady Smith & Wesson, and Zara has a Sig. Cool-looking gun, by the way.” Even though her tone was light, her eyes were dark. Fear. There was definite fear glowing in those green orbs.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Anya.” As a vow, he meant it to his soul.
“I know,” she whispered. “Just don’t let anything happen to you either. I couldn’t stand that.” Her eyes glowed a soft green in the dim light. So sweet and pretty.
Ah man. She just reached right in and grabbed his heart. “Okay.”
She swallowed. “Listen, Heath. I know we haven’t been together long, but I want to say thank you.”
He leaned against the door and tucked his thumbs into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. He needed to hold her. Tight. “For what?”
She lifted a small shoulder. “Everything, I guess. For not treating me like some weak woman who could never stand on her own two feet and for letting me be a part of this op.”
Heath breathed out slowly. “You’re the brains here, baby. The one with the degree and knowledge.” He stretched his neck. “But you’re human and very fragile.” She couldn’t argue that one with him. Her very bones were small and easily breakable. Especially for somebody much larger than she was—which the killer certainly had to be.
“I’m strong enough to do this.”
Yeah, she was. But it still wasn’t right. “You’re made for the white picket fence and PTA, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes and glanced at the silver gun on the nightstand. “I don’t think so. In fact, after this, I think I might go into the field. Use my degree for profiling—not just teach about it.” Slowly she tilted her head to the side and studied him this time. “We’re ready for him, right?”
He gave her assurances he didn’t really have. “Definitely. Plus, we have traps in place that we’ll remove at midnight. No way can he get in here until we’re ready.”
She smiled and batted her eyes. “It looks like we have a few more hours together, Heath Jones. What do you suppose we do with those precious minutes?”
Cute. Definitely cute. Her words licked along him and danced around his dick. “We should probably focus.” His voice came out painfully hoarse. Or they could get lost for a few minutes and forget the danger stalking them. He fully understood her need to escape reality for a few moments.
“The security is still on, and Denver is downstairs.” She smiled, a siren’s dare. Tossing the folders onto the table, she stood and moved toward him. “Why don’t we focus on each other?”
The blood rushed south of his brain. Way south. She’d never played the temptress with him, and he had to force himself to keep still. “I appreciate the thought, but maybe we should celebrate tomorrow.” If they lived.
She reached him and slid both palms up his chest. “I want tolivetonight.”
His mouth watered as she read his mind. “Living is good,” he agreed, like a hungry puppy. Then he shook his head. “Honey, I really need to be on edge tonight.”
“Oh, you’re on edge.” She caressed down and cupped him through his jeans.
His knees almost gave out. His muscles started undulating on their own, every instinct in his body clamoring for him to take her to the ground. His cock pulsed against her palm as if trying to get to her. Now.
Okay. Calm. He could be calm and gentle.
Yet the stress around him, the tension inside him, clenched his hands into fists. “Anya? Baby? This probably ain’t a good idea.”
