Beyond His Control. Stephanie Tyler

drifting shut again. Sighing, she repositioned herself on the couch since her feet were starting to fall asleep.

      She should be happy for the downtime, when she wasn’t racing to help anyone, when she wasn’t headed to the hospital to counsel a victim. Or worse. But she knew exactly why she wasn’t content.

      This was the time the loneliness hit her the hardest, like a sudden, sharp ache, so fierce she actually had to force a breath in and out.

       One day, my prince will come…

      Her mom used to sing that song as she would twirl around the small kitchen of the brand-new apartment, the one she’d rented for them after they’d left Callie’s abusive father. At the time, it had been forever since she’d heard her mother sing, let alone smile. In that tiny room, it was as if she’d been reborn.

      Callie’s mom never remarried, but she did date and finally ended up with a man who loved her to pieces.

      Callie never allowed herself to open up as easily. Between her past and the jobs she held, the day job and the secret one, she probably never would.

      The sudden, loud knocking at the door did what the caffeine was supposed to as the thumping in her chest could attest to. Hesitantly, she went and looked out the peephole.

      Men in suits.

      “What do you want?” she called through the heavy apartment door.

      “FBI, ma’am. You’re going to need to come with us.”

      Her skin chilled and she prayed this had nothing to do with Susie’s case. “For what reason?”

      “Ava Turkowski,” was all they said, all they needed to say, before she unlocked the door and swung it wide open.

      “Is she all right?”

      “She’s missing. You need to come with us, ma’am,” one of the men repeated.

      Ava. Missing. Not good.

      She grabbed her keys, shoved her feet into her old sneakers, glad she was still dressed in the jeans and button-down shirt she’d worn that day.

      “I’m ready,” she said. And really, she thought she was always ready for anything.

      The night air was humid for this time of year, and she wished she’d brought something to tie her hair up.

      From her youngest days, the middle of the night had always been her favorite time. The insanity of the day dissipated, but the new day had not yet formed and there were endless possibilities. Things that could go right.

      Yeah, and one day, your prince will come.

      After she was roughly pushed inside the town car, she realized that it was most definitely not her horse-drawn carriage.

      5

      AVA HAD FINALLY fallen asleep, although she stirred frequently. Justin had no doubt that, even in her slumber, her mind worked overtime.

      He ran his hands through his hair, left them there to press against his scalp to see if that would help alleviate some of the pounding. His life flashing before his eyes, pressure that was accumulating in his skull, began the moment he’d taken Ava from her house.

      “Justin,” Ava whispered. He hadn’t realized she’d been awake, sitting up in bed, watching him in the dim light that flickered out from the bathroom.

      “Are you okay?”

      “No. Neither are you.”

      He laughed, but there was absolutely no humor behind it. It was one of those times where her knowing him so well was both a detriment and a relief. “We’ll get through this—figure it all out,” he said. Every part of him wanted to stretch out on the bed next to her, hold her. Make love to her until the pain went away. Show her that, dammit, there was something between them. There always would be.

      Except that would be the worst thing he could possibly do now. Talk about complicating things even more, because where would that leave them? It wasn’t as if he was leaving the SEALs, at least not willingly. His career would always be too big a barrier between them for anything to work.

      He walked over to the closet, took the extra blanket and pillow and spread out on the floor next to the bed, between Ava and the door.

      But she protested. “You need sleep just as much as I do, and the floor’s not going to be comfortable.”

      “I’ll be fine down here.” He’d slept on worse. Much worse. Gone without much sleep for longer than a human being should. Pushed his limits to the max.

      Sleeping on the floor next to Ava’s bed—talk about a trip down memory lane. Even though he had more than one place he could sleep in Turk and Ava’s house, like the living-room couch or Turk’s floor, he always found himself in Ava’s room on her yellow carpet.

      Somehow, in the dark of night, when they were alone and weren’t sparring over silly things, he could almost imagine that they could make a go of it. And then he’d remember, like he did now, that Ava didn’t want to be with anyone who was planning on going into the military. By that point, he’d already made his decision to enlist.

      “Justin?”

      “Yes?”

      “Why wouldn’t the O’Rourkes just kill me?” Her voice held equal parts fear and anger. “How would Leo know any of this?”

      Justin had already considered the hows and whys, sitting here in the semidarkness, watching Ava toss and turn a few feet away from him.

      She was in danger, and so was his oldest and best friend in the entire world.

      Especially now. Getting Ava out of town might have made things even worse for Turk at this point.

      Justin took a deep breath and told her something he’d been avoiding. “Your brother mentioned something about his cover.”

      He heard her suck in a quick breath. “Leo’s involved with the O’Rourkes?”

      “He didn’t say that.”

      “He didn’t have to.”

      “This isn’t your fault,” he said. “You were doing your job. You had no idea what you were getting into.”

      “You still haven’t answered my first question.”

      “I know,” he said. He had no doubt that O’Rourke had given the order to kill Ava, and that all of it was a giant warning. A setup for something else much bigger coming down the pike. “You’re with me now, nothing’s going to happen to you on my watch.”

      She didn’t push again for an answer to her question. More likely than not, she’d come to the same conclusion he had, anyway. “I’ve caused you so much trouble.”

      “I can take care of myself.” He shifted to try to find a comfortable position, even though he knew there wasn’t one. He was too aware of every sound, every change, every nuance.