Battle Tested

But she knew she’d be leaving a little part of her heart behind when she did. She rolled onto her side so she could study him more fully. She reached out and stroked his hair by his ear, drawing her fingers down his cheek. He turned his face toward her, seeking her touch even in his sleep.

She should sleep now too. It had been a pleasurable but exhausting day and now it was late. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.

Her eyes were drifting closed when she heard the sound.

It didn’t wake Steve. Why would it? It was just the barest whisper of a noise. If her body and mind hadn’t already been programmed to listen for it—to fear it above all else—Rosalyn wouldn’t have heard it either.

The sound of an envelope being slid under the door.

Her heart stopped and her breathing became ragged. The acid that burned in her stomach—blessedly missing for the last day—returned with a force that caused Rosalyn to ball up on the bed.

She bit her fist, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to awaken Steve. If she did, she’d never be able to keep this a secret from him.

The Watcher had found her again.

Rosalyn lay on the bed for what seemed like forever trying to get herself under control. She finally managed to crawl off, dropping silently to the floor, and stumbled over to where the envelope lay.

With shaking hands she picked it up and pulled out the paper from inside.

If you like Steve so much, I guess I’ll need to meet him soon.

She swallowed the sob in her throat. No. She couldn’t allow the Watcher to come after Steve. The thought galvanized her into action.

Within minutes she had silently dressed and grabbed her bag. Steve had rolled over toward her side of the bed, as if he was seeking her missing form, but Rosalyn refused to let herself think about it. If she did, she would never make it out.

And she had to concentrate on where she was going to go. The time with Steve had given her the strength not to give up her battle against the Watcher. To keep fighting. But it hadn’t given her a course of action with which to do that. She didn’t have any money and she had no plan.

She spotted Steve’s wallet on the dresser. He’d used it each time he’d paid for the food that had been delivered. Food he wouldn’t even consider letting her help pay for—good, considering how broke she was.

Shame beat down on Rosalyn as she opened his wallet and took out the cash. One hundred and eighty-three dollars.

She didn’t know how far it would get her, but at least it would get her away from here. Get the Watcher away from Steve.

She looked down at his naked back, his hips and legs tangled in the sheets. He’d never know how much he’d meant to her. What he’d given her in a time she’d needed so much.

He’d just remember her as a one-and-a-half-night stand and the woman who stole his cash. She’d become a cocktail story for him. A joking warning to his friends.

The tears leaked out of her eyes. This time she didn’t even try to stop them.

Thinking about her would be distasteful for Steve.

But at least he would be alive.

Chapter Four (#ubeb5ecb4-10a4-5a9a-b1b9-6c74460d357d)

Six months later

“Would it be okay for us to see Steve now or should we make an appointment?” Brandon Han, Omega’s top profiler, asked one of Steve’s assistants in the outer office.

“Yeah, maybe we should make an appointment. For around eighteen months from now.” That was Liam Goetz, leader of the hostage rescue team. “When hopefully Steve is in a better mood.”

Cynthia, the assistant who kept his entire office running, laughed. “I think it’s safe now.”

Steve winced. Obviously nobody realized the door to his office was cracked and he could hear everything they were saying.

“Should we remove our weapons?” Liam asked.

“Why? Are you afraid you might shoot him?” Cynthia’s gentle laughter didn’t make Steve feel better.

“Are you kidding? I’m afraid he might take them and shoot us.”

The topic moved on to more neutral ground: Liam’s twins and Tallinn, the little girl he and his wife had adopted. Liam had pictures. Steve stopped listening.

Liam’s jokes didn’t bother him—Liam was always making jokes—but Brandon’s initial question did. These men were an important part of the Critical Response Division’s inner team. Steve’s team. Moreover, they were his friends. They didn’t need an appointment to see him.

But evidently they thought so given Steve’s behavior over the last few months.

Rosalyn.

He ran a hand over his eyes, then turned his chair so he was facing the Rocky Mountains out the window.

When he’d awakened as the sun began to rise in Pensacola and found her gone, he’d at first thought she’d decided to walk on the beach or run out to get donuts or something. Heaven knew they hadn’t left the room in a day and a half. Maybe she’d needed some air.

Then he realized all her stuff, including that giant catchall bag she carried, was gone.

Going against his nature, Steve still gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was scared of something, he knew. He’d hoped to convince her to tell him what it was, to let him help.

Every time he’d considered broaching the subject—telling her he worked in law enforcement and could help her with whatever had her so afraid—they’d ended up making love instead.

Not that Steve had minded that. The only time he didn’t see shadows floating in Rosalyn’s eyes was when they were filled with passion. He had hoped to convince her to stay the rest of the week with him and during that time get her to tell him what was really going on with her. To share whatever burdens she carried. And the secrets she was obviously keeping.

Starting with her last name.

But it soon became obvious Rosalyn wasn’t out to grab coffee or go for a jog. Steve had known that from the beginning, although he hadn’t wanted to face it. Someone who looked over her shoulder as much as Rosalyn, who’d been so willing to stay inside the bungalow even when there was a gorgeous beach right outside, wouldn’t be going out for a casual walk.

Checking his wallet confirmed it. She’d taken every bit of his cash.

She’d played him.

Even now, six months later, the thought sat heavily in his gut. The time they’d spent together hadn’t meant anything to Rosalyn. He was just a means to an end.

Steve had packed up his stuff that afternoon and returned to Colorado Springs. He’d been in a bad mood ever since. Obviously something everyone was aware of, from the conversation that had just occurred outside his door.

The thing was, he would’ve given Rosalyn the money—more if she’d needed it—if she had let him know what was going on. Would’ve done it without her having sex with him or waiting until he was asleep to steal it.

But she hadn’t. She’d found him to be an easy mark and taken off.

Steve stood and walked over to the plastic evidence bag on his windowsill and picked it up. It held a glass inside. One from the bungalow that he knew contained Rosalyn’s fingerprints.