ribs protecting her from most of the shrapnel, she might not be standing here. The ache under his sternum, the one connected with the woman standing mere feet away, refused to subside as he studied the fast tick of her pulse at the base of her throat. “The only way for me to see if your ribs are broken is you taking off your shirt.”
“I’m fine. I’m sure it’s a rib out of place. It’ll either pop back when it’s ready, or this girl will kick it back where it belongs in the next few months.” She stared up at the ceiling, her fingers prodding into her side. Small lines creased her expression, and his gut clenched. In her next breath, she took back control. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re just looking for a way back under my shirt. Which isn’t going to happen.”
A laugh rumbled from deep in his chest. Exhaustion played a wicked game across her expression, but she’d keep going until they identified the unsub responsible for that bomb. That’d been one of the reasons he’d recommended her to Dalton Meyer for the Oversight project at the NSA two years ago. He’d studied her work programming drones for the small start-up company in Washington, DC, and admired her determination to get the job done. Nothing had changed in that respect. But sacrificing her health in the name of the investigation wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Can you blame a guy for trying?”
Her burst of laughter filled the room but cut off in her next breath. She doubled over, hiking her hand into her side.
“All right, enough stalling.” Braxton tossed the first aid kit onto the bed and propelled himself to his feet. “I’m taking a look at your ribs whether you like it or not.”
“Why?” Liz straightened slowly, pain evident on her features. “Unless you got your medical degree while you were in hiding?”
“Not exactly, but you learn a few things when you’re on your own and the government has plastered your face on the front page of the FBI’s website.” He feathered his fingertips under her shirt and lifted the black silk. Her sharp gasp quickened his pulse, and a rush of satisfaction shot through him. He’d always been able to change her breathing patterns with one touch. Nice to know some things hadn’t changed. Smooth skin slid against the rough calluses on his hand. And wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their relationship—rough versus smooth. Bruises had already started darkening around her bottom rib on the right side. He studied her expression in his peripheral vision as he pressed his thumb into the bone. “It’s no way to live, though. Strange cities, fake names, avoiding human interaction.” Avoiding her. “Gets old real fast.”
“Well, now it looks like we have something in common.” She hissed as he prodded the third rib from the bottom. “Now I’m being hunted like an animal. Only this predator isn’t the federal government and has tried to blow me up and shoot me in the same day.”
He locked his jaw to cool the anger churning in his gut. If he hadn’t left, none of this would’ve happened.
“Nothing feels broken.” Braxton dropped his hand. Every cell in his body screamed for him to erase the worry lines from her expression, but he couldn’t move. He studied the vulnerability playing across her face. What he wouldn’t give to help her forget the nightmare of the last couple hours. “I’ll get you a heating pad for the soreness and ice for the inflammation. Should be good as new in a couple days.”
A weak smile played across her mouth. “Thanks.”
He turned away from her and headed toward the door. If he didn’t, the unquenched desire that’d burrowed itself beneath his skin and crackled along his veins when he touched her would take control. Her life—their baby’s life—had been put at risk because of him. Anything more between them would only make it that much harder to walk away. That’d been the deal. She agreed to his protection. He’d go back into hiding. Fighting to keep his focus trained, Braxton forced one foot in front of the other.
“Why’d you come back?” she asked. “Why now?”
He froze, his hands curling into fists at his side. Ten seconds. That was all he needed to clear his head, but she couldn’t even give him that. “Liz—”
“I’d finally worked out what I would say to our baby the day she asked about her father, but then you walked right into Blackhawk Security. Have to admit—” she fitted her shirt back into place out of the corner of his eye “—I never saw it coming.”
Braxton turned. No point in lying. He’d never been able to stay away from her for more than a few days at a time. Even now, he was caught in the undeniable gravitational pull of hers, and he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. “I always planned on coming back.”
“Did you ever think you never should’ve left in the first place?” Her expression shifted from genuine curiosity to outright fury. The small muscles along her jaw flexed. Liz took a step back as he approached then brushed right past him. As though his revelation ignited that anger she desperately fought to control. “Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her into him. Lean muscle flexed along her arm, and he imagined all too easily exploring every inch of the strength under her clothing. Every mole. Every scar. The soft curve of her lower abdominals where their baby thrived. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and loosened his grip. Desire surged through him, a mere taste of the chaos capable of rendering him completely useless when she was around. Damn what she thought of him, damn the investigation or the reason he’d stayed away from her for the last sixteen weeks. She had to know the truth. She deserved to know.
Liz stared up at him with that gorgeous fire in her expression—almost daring him to make his next move—but didn’t wrench out of his hold.
He forced the words to the tip of his tongue, but no sound left his mouth. Licking his lips, he dropped his hand from hers. No. Now wasn’t the time. Because he couldn’t lose her again. Every decision he’d made over his career had a price, but he’d never expected her to pay for any of it. And she would once she learned the truth.
“You’re right. I never should’ve left, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and our baby if that’s what you want.” He framed her hips between both hands, his thumbs grazing her lower belly. Braxton stepped into her, relishing in the slight widening of her eyes, of her exhale rushing against the skin along his neck. “Starting now.”
Reaching past her, he skimmed his hand over the top of the dresser and grabbed the yellow envelope resting on top. He slid it between them and handed it to her. Everything that’d happened today at Blackhawk Security—the bomb, the shooter in the garage—had to do with what was in the envelope. “You asked me why I came back. Why now? This is why.”
She took the envelope from him, the furrow between her dark eyebrows deepening. She slid her fingers inside the envelope and pulled out the short stack of surveillance photos he’d collected from Oversight’s servers. Photos of her. Confusion deepened the lines across her forehead. “What is this?”
She blinked as realization hit her hard.
He wanted to reach for her. To comfort her. But didn’t.
The envelope protested in her hand. Liz shook her head and took a step back. She shuffled through the stack of photos, one after the other. But studying photos wouldn’t make the truth any less real. Someone had been hunting her for months. “Wh-how did you get these?”
“I programmed an alert into Oversight’s code to notify me when you were the subject before I left the agency.” If he hadn’t, she—and their baby—wouldn’t be standing here right now. “I started getting alerts six days ago. Right after I read about Dalton Meyer’s murder and discovered Oversight’s feeds were hijacked.”
“So many photos. Outside the office, getting into my car.” Her voice barely registered. Too soft. Too full of fear. The muscles down his spine responded. She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “This one is from a traffic camera as I drove home.” Liz ran a hand through her hair as her mouth parted. “Someone’s been watching me? For how long?”
“No,