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Saving Rose Red Page 6


  In a decisive move, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “If you’re not going to give me answers, I guess I’ll just have to take Anthony up on his offer to meet up tonight.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Dagger made a move to snatch the phone from her hands but she spun around neatly and kept typing her response to Anthony.

  “Andie, I swear, if you hit send I’ll—”

  Her finger poised over the send button, she turned back to him with arched brows. “What? If I hit this, what exactly will you do?”

  Chapter Five

  He had no answer to that. He wasn’t about to threaten violence to a tiny slip of a girl. It wasn’t like he could ground her; he wasn’t her father.

  And thank goodness for that. There was absolutely nothing paternal about the way his body reacted to her proximity. Or the way he found himself wanting to smile when she was telling him stories about her life. Or the way he found himself asking questions about things like her red rose tattoo when his life and hers could very well be in danger.

  “Don’t,” he ended up saying. “Just…don’t. Please.”

  Maybe it was the “please” that did it, or maybe some of his fear was written all over his face because she dropped the phone on the island with a thud.

  “Fine. I won’t. But in return, you need to give me answers.”

  How the heck had this happened? He was a professional. How had he let this Little Mary Sunshine come in to his assignment and so thoroughly mess it up?

  She moved closer to him, so close she was in his personal space. Closer than anyone had gotten in far too long. Close enough that he could smell her scent, feel her breath on his neck.

  She was too close.

  She placed a hand on his biceps, right over the tattoo dagger. Her touch was delicate, light. It was harmless, not a come on or seductive. So why did that simple touch push him over the edge? All reason fled as the urge to hold her swept in, overriding every other mental command.

  He didn’t think it through because thought was impossible. In one quick move, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up against him like it was where she belonged. He was dimly aware that she gasped at the intimate contact of her body pressed against him but his lips claimed hers before she could protest.

  The reaction was instantaneous and chemical—a rush of dopamine and every other pleasurable chemical rushed through him at the contact. Her lips were achingly soft. Her body warm and sensual and delicate against his.

  When his lips moved against hers, she came to life, her lips clinging to his. When he parted her lips with his tongue, she opened for him with a soft sigh that he knew he’d be hearing in his dreams until his dying day.

  Her mouth was hot and her tongue tangled with his, meeting his demanding thrusts as if this was an age-old dance they’d been performing. As if they’d been kissing passionately forever.

  She was the one who ended it—and thankfully she did because he wasn’t sure he would have had the will power to call it quits on his own. And this was bad. Very bad. Stupid and bad. She was a witness, and now the woman who had crucial evidence and could quite possibly be a target for some seriously dangerous criminals.

  Oh, this was bad on so many levels.

  He half expected Andie to read him the riot act, and rightfully so. Staring at the ground, he tried to get a grip on his raging hormones as he waited for it. And waited. Finally he looked up and saw that she didn’t look angry. She looked…oh man, she looked sweet and innocent and confused and…he was officially a jerk.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Was that his voice? It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in decades. “That was inappropriate.”

  She didn’t seem to be paying attention to his apology. Instead, she reached out and smoothed the front of his T-shirt. He let out a sharp hiss at the contact and his muscles instinctively tightened at the unexpected—but not at all unwanted—touch.

  “I don’t even know your real name,” she said.

  “Cole.” The word slipped out easily as if he’d just been waiting to be asked.

  Where had that come from? More than a decade of training to withstand the worst kinds of torture and he caved at the merest whiff of tenderness from this little waif.

  She was smiling up at him, looking inordinately pleased that she’d gotten his name out of him. That smile was the last assault on his senses. He couldn’t take anymore of her kindness and kisses. Time to face the fact that when it came to this particular woman, he had a weakness.

  As a former marine, the thought that he could be weakened by this woman was disheartening. Humbling. Heck, it was humiliating. But a good soldier knew his weaknesses and didn’t try to deny them—knowing was half the battle. Sure, it was the G.I. Joe slogan, but it also held merit.

  If he told her some of the truth, it would be better than her doing something stupid like meeting up with Anthony and very possibly getting herself hurt, or worse. With a weary sigh, he sank onto the barstool that she’d vacated so he was eye level with her.

  “My real name is Cole Michaels, but people generally call me Dagger.”

  She folded her hands in front of her as if waiting patiently for him to continue.

  “That guy, Anthony—he’s no good.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why?’ He’s just not a good dude. Take my word for it.”

  She raised one brow and gave him a little smirk that was probably far sexier than she realized. He should have known his word wouldn’t be enough, but he’d had to try.

  Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she gave him a look he hadn’t seen since his third-grade math teacher who’d refused to call him anything but Mr. Michaels. “Try again.”

  She should seriously consider a career in the military. She could be the country’s best secret weapon. “Fine. His name is Anthony Gallagher—”

  “Yeah, yeah. He’s the son of that big developer guy.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “You know who he is?”

  “Mmm, my foster brother recognized him by his picture.”

  Cole shot up out of his seat. “Your foster brother? You showed those pictures to him?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before he added, “Who else did you show them to?”

  “Just Spencer. And don’t worry, he’s trustworthy.”

  “I’m sure he is.” He muttered it under his breath and it was intended as sarcasm but she nodded seriously as if they were in perfect agreement. This was so much worse than he’d thought. It was his own fault. He never should have let her traipse off with the camera last night. He should have… What? Stormed into her bedroom and demanded that she hand it over?

  He would have been all too happy to storm into that bedroom but if he was at her mercy now, when she was fully clothed and under the fluorescent lights of the stainless steel kitchen, he could only imagine what state he’d be in if he’d gone in and found her in bed.

  The image filled his mind—her lying in bed, her ridiculous pale pink hair spread around her like a halo. Those big eyes gazing up at him…

  Yeah, it was a good thing he hadn’t gone into her bedroom. Still, he could have found some way to get it from her before she’d had a chance to spread the news.

  Leaning forward, he met her gaze and tried to get across how serious he was. “Andie, listen to me. You can’t go showing that picture to anyone. You’ll only end up putting the person in danger.”

  For the first time since he met her, her gaze filled with concern. Oh, so she didn’t have an ounce of self-preservation but she was protective of her brother?

  She needed someone in her life who would look after her.

  Someone like you? An inner demon tormented him. No, of course not him. In his line of work he carried danger around with him like luggage. He’d been so happy to see her the day before—like a man dying of thirst spotting an oasis. But now? Now he regretted the moment she stepped foot in his tattoo shop. She shouldn’t be involved in this. She sh
ould be nice and safe in her new, fancy uptown apartment, leaving him to deal with the dregs of society like Anthony.

  “Ahem.” She cleared her throat noisily and pointedly. “You were saying?”

  “We think Anthony has ties to the Corada gang. Have you heard of them?”

  “Of course.” She sounded offended. “But who exactly is this ‘we’ you speak of, Cole?”

  Everything in him said not to tell her. If she knew she’d be in even more danger.

  She let out an exasperated breath and eyed her phone which was sitting on the island between them. “Look, whatever you’re involved in, clearly I’m somehow involved too. Don’t you think I deserve to know why some alleged crime boss wants to meet up with me?”

  She had a point. He scratched his head and went over all the possibilities. Part of being undercover meant going with the flow. The best laid plans…and all that.

  “Let’s start slow,” she said. Her tone reminded him once more of teacher—this time the one from kindergarten. She was the epitome of tolerant patience as she said slowly, “How did you get injured?”

  “I was shot.”

  There. Finally some show of fear. Her eyes were wide and filled with concern. “Are you okay?” Concern for him. Of course. Heaven forbid she think of herself at a time like this.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”

  “Well no one’s shot at me.” She crossed her arms again and had a sudden and vivid picture of what their stubborn child would look like. What her child would look like. He was losing his bloody mind.

  He was so distracted by the turn his traitorous mind had taken, he spoke without thinking. “Not yet.”

  He wanted her to be scared for her safety but not terrified. Of course, she didn’t look all that terrified. If anything, she looked…amused.

  “It’s sweet that you’re worried about me.” The look she was giving him. It slayed him. Part smug, part sweet, all Andie.

  He wanted to kiss her again. He shouldn’t, but he didn’t know if he could stop himself.

  Andie spoke just in time or he would have lost himself to the overwhelming urge. He needed to get a grip or he would never survive this. “Why were they shooting at you? And who are the other guys in the picture?”

  Her gaze and her stance could only be described as fierce. This little firecracker meant business and if he stood any chance of getting that camera back so he could start making any headway in his case, he’d have to cave.

  “I’m not entirely sure why they shot at me, but I have a suspicion. If I can send that picture off to one of my associates, he might be able to confirm.”

  Her brow furrowed. Clearly he’d just opened up a whole new line of questioning.

  He cut her off before she could start in. “I’m an undercover cop.”

  Boom. There went his most closely guarded secret and the last remnants of an alias he’d spent six months creating. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out. “I thought…I thought you were—”

  “A criminal,” he finished. “Yes, I’m aware. And yet you still took me in. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

  He was honestly puzzled but she ignored the question. “So you’re investigating Anthony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was your cover blown?”

  She sounded far too excited. Especially when she was supposed to be afraid. “I don’t know. I have to assume so at this point.”

  “And you think my picture had something to do with your cover being blown and you being shot at.”

  She said it as a statement but he answered it as a question. “It’s an awfully big coincidence if they are two separate incidents.”

  Nodding, she bit her lip as she appeared to think it all over. He tried not to focus on the lip and how he wanted to be the one nibbling on it. Now was definitely not the time.

  “You never answered my question before,” she said finally.

  “Which one?”

  “Who are the other guys in the picture?”

  Clearly she was starting to piece it all together. “The tough-looking guy with the long hair—that’s Cisco Hedron, the leader of the Corada gang.”

  He heard her swift intake of air but she kept quiet.

  “The other guy…well, that’s the mystery. Judging by the suit and the timing of the shooting…” He left off with a shrug. He didn’t want to even put his suspicions into words. The very thought made him nauseous.

  She blinked up at him. “You think he’s a cop.”

  Ugh. There it was. The suspicion he hated to give voice to—that one of his own team would turn on him like that. But he’d seen worse in his time and he wouldn’t put it past them. He shrugged. “I’m hoping that if I send it to my partner at the police department, he can take a closer look at the image. Maybe he’ll see something I couldn’t.”

  Andie was already handing over the camera before he finished speaking. “Take it. In the meantime, stay as long as you need.”

  He found himself at a loss for words. The offer was so generous and natural, as if it never even occurred to her think this through—that maybe she wouldn’t want to harbor an undercover cop who was being hunted by criminals.

  Finally he shook his head. “Thanks, but I can’t stay long. I just wanted to make sure you were safe but we can find you a safe place to go until this blows over. Once we do, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Her response was a snort of amusement as she turned to the counter and started unloading her bag of groceries. “Nice try, Cole.”

  Hearing her use his name so casually and in that sweet voice of hers floored him. It shouldn’t have, but he found himself staring at her back as she set some food aside and some in the cabinets.

  Unaware of his stupor state, she kept chattering on. “I hope you like chicken parm because it’s kinda my specialty.”

  He didn’t answer but she didn’t seem to notice. “My laptop’s over there if you want to go ahead and send that picture to your friend.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “When you’re done, maybe you could open the wine?”

  He nodded silently. Everything about this scene was far too…cozy. Like they were a couple. Or friends, at the very least. As he headed toward the living room to grab her laptop he tried to sort out why exactly he felt like the ground was shifting beneath his feet. It wasn’t the first time he’d been invited to dinner or asked to open a bottle of wine—though it had been a while since he’d lived anything close to normal. No, it was the sense of familiarity. The feeling that this was home…that she was home.

  Snap out of it.

  This wasn’t home. Home was something he hadn’t had in ages, not since he left his parent’s house for the military straight out of high school. This was an illusion, a glimpse of what life could be like if he’d gone down a different route. If he hadn’t chosen to join the muck and grime, all in the name of being a hero.

  Somewhere along the way it had become harder and harder to distinguish the heroism in what he was doing. His life held no black and whites—he lived in the shade of gray. And Andie? Well her life was pure light. And that’s where she deserved to be.

  Still, after he sent the picture to Eddie along with an update on his and Andie’s current situation, he found himself heading back to the warmth of the kitchen, with its comforting smells and tempting chef.

  Music was playing in the background and he had to raise his voice slightly to be heard. “Can I help?”

  She spun around at the sound of his voice and by her smile one would think he’d just offered to buy her a pony. “That would be great. There’s salad makings in the fridge. Maybe you could get started on that?”

  He did as he was told and for a little while they worked side by side in companionable silence. Until a song she liked came on. Then the silence was broken by her cheerfully and unashamedly bursting into song, using a pair of tongs as an impromptu mic.

  When it was done, she curtseyed a
nd bowed as he gave a teasing applause. Straightening, she met his gaze. “I like when you do that.”

  He reached for the wine bottle and opener. Lord, when was the last time he’d had a nice bottle of wine with a woman and not a cheap beer on his own? “Do what? Open wine?”

  “Smile.”

  He glanced up from the bottle in surprise. Was he smiling? It was hard not to around this woman. As she continued to watch him, he reached a hand up and touched the corner of his mouth. “So that’s what this tugging sensation is.”

  Her mouth fell open before she let out a loud belly laugh. “Oh my gosh, he made a joke.”

  He found himself laughing along with her as he turned back to the bottle. She set two glasses next to him. “So tell me about being an undercover cop.”

  He hesitated before pouring a glass. “I don’t know,” he started slowly.

  She hopped up on the counter beside him, so close he could move just a little and brush up against her thigh. “Oh come on, your secret is out. Might as well give me the whole story.”

  He handed her a full glass and picked up his own. “It’s not like it is in the movies.” He’d meant it as a warning. People thought it sounded intriguing, but if they knew what it was really like, they’d never look at him the same.

  “No, I don’t suppose it would be,” she said softly. The teasing had gone from her voice and when he looked over she was surprisingly serious. “I can’t even imagine. There must be a lot of compromises. It must be hard not to lose yourself at times.”

  He stared at her in shock—something he felt he’d been doing too much since she’d walked into his life. “Yeah, something like that.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual. Something like that? It was a spot on assessment from someone who shouldn’t know the first thing about it.

  In his silence, she kept talking, taking sips in between her words. “I can’t put myself in your shoes. To be honest, I don’t think I’d ever want to. I have a hard enough time knowing who I am in my real life, let alone a fake one.”