been able to control himself?
Waylynn rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down to fight back the burn in her eyes. A simple blood test had confirmed her theory. He’d been born with a variant of the monoamine oxidase A gene. The “warrior gene.” By disrupting the neurotransmitters dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin, the gene predisposed carriers to more aggressive and violent behavior. While Genism and their military contractors paid her to take advantage of those specific behaviors, she’d spent every waking minute looking for ways to neutralize them. One success. That was all it would take to change the world. To change her world.
Maybe then she and Elliot could become more than—
A low vibration came from the tree line, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Movement shifted the weeds and bushes to her right and her blood pressure spiked. She unfolded her arms. The vibration grew louder, harsher, a split second before thick, brown fur and four long legs materialized at the edge of the trees. Black eyes focused on her and Waylynn couldn’t move. Frizzy hackles raised along the moose’s back. No antlers. A female. But with her ears flattened against her head and nostrils flared, she was just as terrifying as the male of the species.
Waylynn raised her palms in surrender, taking a step back.
Another warning reached her ears and outright fear paralyzed her in place. The creature’s long, thin face dipped toward two smaller brown faces at her feet. Her babies. Newborn twins. Waylynn wouldn’t hold up against a full-fledged moose charge. The damn tiny cabin wouldn’t hold up against the mother defending those calves. “Elliot.”
His name barely registered over the moose’s low-pitched growl. With a couple of licks to the newborns, the mother refocused her efforts on keeping them safe. Waylynn lowered her hands slowly, sweat building on her upper lip. She fought to breathe around the fear clawing up her throat. Any sudden move, any attempt to escape, and the moose would charge. Licking dry lips, she tried to speak again. “Elliot.”
“Don’t move.” Warmth flooded through her. He stepped inside her peripheral vision, so quietly she hadn’t heard him come outside. As though he’d been able to feel her fear from inside the cabin and had come running. Elliot shifted in front of her, attention on the mother and her young. It was only after he’d moved between her and the moose that Waylynn understood what he was trying to do. He tossed an apple in the creature’s direction. His voice leveled with reasoning. “Nobody wants your babies, Mabel. They look like a handful. So I’ll make you a deal. You can have the rest of these apples, but you have to get them to go.”
“I take it you two know each other?” Waylynn kept her voice low. She didn’t dare look away from the cow protecting her young despite the fact all she wanted to do was run.
“We’ve met.” Elliot notched his head back toward her slightly. “Mabel moved in around the same time I had the cabin built. Thing One and Thing Two there were born about two months ago, and she does not like the fact I vacation close by.”
Mabel searched for the fruit, then brought her head back up, mouth empty. A rough exhale expanded the moose’s nostrils.
“All right, Doc, she’s not taking the bait, and it looks like we’re in the middle of a standoff.” Elliot rebalanced his weight between both feet. “When I give you the signal, I want you to run as fast as you can for the cabin. Don’t look back and don’t wait for me.”
“What?” Waylynn took her eyes off Mabel. “I’m not going to leave you out here to take on a moose by your—”
A wall of muscle slammed her into the dirt. Her head snapped back against the ground; she couldn’t see straight. He’d moved so fast she didn’t have time to comprehend what’d happened until the beat of twelve hoofed feet faded into the woods. Mabel had charged, her babies had tagged along with her, and Elliot had tackled Waylynn to the ground. She struggled to breathe as he positioned his hands on either side of her, that damn gut-wrenching smile stretching his mouth thin. “That was fun.”
His exhales skittered along her oversensitized skin and her heart fought to break through her rib cage in response. He’d saved her life. From a moose. “You and I have very different ideas of fun.”
He’d made mistakes.
Life didn’t come with a set of instructions, but Elliot probably wouldn’t have followed them anyway. Having her this close, in his home away from home, was a mistake. He’d been trying to save her from a life-ending stampede by Mabel and her calves but instead had gotten the up-close-and-personal Waylynn experience. Even four hours later, with her fast asleep upstairs in his bed, he could still smell her perfume on his clothing, remember the widening of her pupils as he’d looked down at her, feel the smoothness of her skin against the calluses in his palms.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. It wouldn’t happen. Not now. Not ever. And most definitely not with her. Sure, they’d been friends for a while, but friends didn’t expect or ask for commitment. Not in the same way a romantic relationship did. He’d spent the better parts of his life at the mercy of others. Never again.
The sun had leveled with the horizon hours ago, yet light still poured in through the windows. Daylight at midnight. No better time than to plan their next move. His phone chimed with an incoming message. Swiping his thumb across the screen, he read Vincent Kalani’s report. No hard drive recovered from Alexis Jacobs’s apartment. The former cop and Blackhawk Security’s current forensics expert had a relationship with the Anchorage police chief, which had gotten the team out of a lot of sticky situations in the past few months. Brothers in blue or something like that. But the missing hard drive triggered Elliot’s gut instinct.
Someone was framing Waylynn for her assistant’s murder. Either the unsub had broken into Alexis’s apartment and taken the drive before police had a chance to search the place or the redhead had taken steps to make sure it would never be found if her employer came calling.
Only one way to find out.
Threading his arms through his shoulder holster, he glanced up toward the loft where Waylynn slept. No point in waking her now. If he found the hard drive, he’d bring it back here and they’d go through it together. If not, he’d have no reason to break the bad news. She’d been through enough. Elliot turned toward the door but slowed as the hairs on the back of his neck rose on end.
“You, sir, are a terrible bodyguard.” That voice. Hell, that voice could move mountains. He’d recognize it anywhere, had memorized every inflection and tone.
“In my defense, you’re supposed to be asleep and I was going to set the alarm.” He turned toward her. Air locked in his lungs as she came down the narrow set of stairs. Long blond hair shifted over her shoulders, the muscles in her lean, bare legs flexing as she moved. Bright teal toenails reflected the flames crackling in the fireplace a few feet away. “Are you wearing my MIT shirt?”
“As nice of a gesture Officer Ramsey made by lending me her sweats so she could keep my clothes as evidence, I couldn’t sleep in them. Hope you don’t mind. I found it on top of a stack of shirts by the bed.” She tugged on the hem but failed to make a damn bit of difference hiding all that perfect skin. “Although, not sure it matters what I’m wearing. When I close my eyes…” She folded her arms, accentuating the slight curves beneath his shirt, but not even that could distract him from the fear in those mesmerizing blue eyes. “I didn’t know you’d gone to MIT.”
She was avoiding the subject, the thing that kept her from falling asleep. He’d let her. For now. Everyone had their breaking point. And he had a feeling the frame job, the loss of her research—they were just the beginning.
“Mechanical engineering. Didn’t last long.” The dean tended to look down on students getting paid to take exams for their graduating class.
“Mechanical engineer. Con man. Private investigator.”