“Hey, who are you?” came a woman’s voice.
Jenna’s gaze flashed up and landed on a petite woman standing in the hallway near one of the doorways. Dressed all in black, she had bright red highlights in her jet hair and tattoos all the way down both arms to her hands, currently covered by rubber gloves.
“I’m . . . J . . . Je . . .” She tried to swallow, but the panic was now gripping her throat. Get a grip, Jenna! But she couldn’t.
“What’s going on?” said a man as he stepped out of the facing room. His gaze cut from the black-haired woman to her, and he smiled. “Hey, Jenna. How are you? Sorry, I had earbuds in. Jess, this is Jenna, Sara’s sister,” he said, walking toward her. And then his expression fell and he rushed over. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” he said, gently grasping her upper arms.
She flinched, not because she was scared of him—he seemed friendly enough—but because her central nervous system was on high alert. She couldn’t help herself.
Next thing she knew, he took her by the hand and guided her to a couch. The little puppy followed and danced around their feet. They sat, the man never letting go of her hand, even as the puppy chewed one of his shoestrings. The guy fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll get your sister. Don’t worry.”
“No,” she managed though it came out more as a moan. If Sara saw her like this again, she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise not to blame herself. She wouldn’t be able to not worry. And Jenna couldn’t keep her own promise not to feel like a burden if Sara was upset over Jenna. What a mess.
“No? Not Sara?” he asked.
Jenna shook her head, but wasn’t sure if he’d be able to tell with how bad she trembled.
“Hey, Jess? Can you grab that blanket from my room?” he called over his shoulder.
The woman appeared a moment later with a black-and-purple fleece, and the man took it from her and shook it out. “I guess I can forgive that Steelers shirt. Just this once.” He winked, held up the Baltimore Ravens logo on the corner of the blanket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then he grasped her hand again.
“Th-th-thank you,” she managed, as the warmth settled over her. Already, being around other people was helping take the worst edge off her panic.
“You’re welcome. I’m Jeremy, by the way. Nick’s brother. Oh, have you met Nick yet?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Well, we’ll get you introduced to everyone. Don’t worry. Nick and I own this place,” he said. “Welcome to Hard Ink Tattoo.” Another wink, then he scooped the puppy into his arm. “And this little monster is Eileen.” The puppy licked Jeremy’s jaw, making him laugh.
He was so friendly that a smile tugged at the corner of Jenna’s lips. She nodded, then she heaved a deep breath. “E-Easy?”
Jeremy tilted his head. “Easy? You want E?”
Jenna gave a fast nod.
“I think he’s up in the gym. Think you can walk?” He placed the puppy on the floor and shooed her away.
“Yeah.” But when they stood, the room went a little wobbly around her. If she could just get in a deep breath . . .
“Whoa,” Jeremy said, catching her by the shoulders. “Maybe you should wait here, and I’ll—”
“No,” she rushed out. “I c-can do it.” She closed her eyes, pictured Easy’s face from before, and forced a couple of not-deep-enough breaths. When she felt less shaky, she gave a nod.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep ahold of you on the steps so you don’t lose your balance. Would that be all right?” He peered down so he could see in her eyes. And now that the panic was easing off, Jenna could take in just how cute Jeremy was. Disheveled, dark brown hair, pale green eyes, piercings on his lip and eyebrow, and lots and lots of ink.
“ ’Kay.” As they made their way back out of Hard Ink and up the steps, Jeremy kept up a steady stream of chatter, and though Jenna couldn’t really follow the names of all the people he was talking about, his presence was calming and distracting. Before she knew it, he was punching a code into a keypad outside the door she’d knocked on before, the one with the music, and they stepped inside.
The room was huge. All cement floors, brick walls, and exposed beams, and filled with tons of gym equipment.
And there was Easy. Pounding out a fast run on a treadmill.
Jeremy guided her closer.
Easy’s feet sounded out a steady thump-thump as they hit the surface, but what Jenna most noticed was that he was shirtless. And every bit as cut as she’d imagined earlier. His shoulders bunched, and his back muscles rippled as his thick arms pumped. A pair of workout pants hung dangerously low on his hips, highlighting how narrow his waist was compared to his chest and shoulders. Beautiful, athletic, strong.
Jenna could already take a deeper breath.
“Easy?” Jeremy called over the music. “Hey, E?”
Looking over his shoulder, Easy’s dark eyes went wide. He immediately grasped the hand rests and jumped so that his feet straddled the moving belt, then he powered down the machine. “What’s up?” he asked, his gaze focused on Jenna’s face the whole time.
She tried to keep her eyes on his face, she really did. But as he grabbed a towel, turned, and walked toward her, she couldn’t help but drink in the incredible definition of his chest and stomach. Fit didn’t begin to describe this guy. He was . . . perfect. Gorgeous. Especially with sweat making his dark skin glisten. Not to mention the tattoo of a cross on a chain that went around his neck and down his chest and another with arrows and a dagger on his biceps.
“Uh, Jenna . . . needs you,” Jeremy said.
Heat roared into her cheeks. He wasn’t wrong, but his words combined with her current thoughts beckoned the reaction.
Easy frowned and came right up to her. “Thanks, Jeremy. I have this,” he said in a deep voice.
“Welcome,” Jeremy said. “You ever need me, now you know where to find me. Anytime. Okay?” he said to her.
“Okay,” she said, dragging her gaze away from Easy to give Jeremy a smile. “Thanks for this,” she said, handing him his blanket and finally noticing the shirt that he wore. It had the words, “The Man,” with an arrow pointing upward, following by, “The Legend,” with an arrow pointing downward.
He grinned and winked when he saw her reading his shirt. He gestured toward himself. “It’s true, you know. Jus’ sayin’.”
“Good-bye, Jeremy,” Easy said.
Jenna managed a breathy chuckle. “Thanks, Jeremy.”
And then she was alone with Easy. His fingers settled on her chin and brought her gaze back to his face. “What’s going on?” he asked, the intensity of his gaze a little hard to hold.
“It’s kinda stupid,” she said, feeling more and more self-conscious about her panic attack the more she calmed down.
His eyes narrowed. “Doubt that. Just tell me.”
“I was trying to sleep in your room and I . . . got . . . um, scared.” She looked down, though Easy’s grasp wouldn’t let her move her head away.
“Look at me, Jenna,” he said. She did. “You got scared, and you . . . wanted me?”
Heat roared into her cheeks until they were on fire. This guy was probably cursing the day they’d ever met. They barely knew each other, yet Jenna couldn’t stop depending on him. Like she had any right to do so. Like he’d want to be saddled with a woman who couldn’t stop puking or crying or freaking out. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.” She released a breath, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her admission.
“Look at me, Jenna,” he said again, more sternly this time.
Her eyelids popped back open. And found his brown eyes absolutely blazing back at her.
EASY’S HEART POUNDED in his chest. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the five miles he’d just run.
Jenna needed him.
Fierce protectiveness and a deep masculine satisfaction roared through him. She’d sought him out for comfort, for strength,
for protection.
Not only that, she was wearing his shirt. And she’d been staring at his body like she was fucking hungry.
Needless to say, the past few minutes had tripped all kinds of switches in Easy’s brain where Jenna Dean was concerned. But he had to dial himself down. She was scared. And hurt. And clearly traumatized by everything that’d happened.
He leaned down to look her in the eye, trying not to focus on the bruises—he didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious, and he sure as hell didn’t want to get any more enraged on her behalf than he already was. “You ever need me, for any reason, I am here for you. No questions asked. Got that?” He brushed his knuckles down her uninjured cheek.
“Yes,” she said, giving him a quick nod and leaning into his touch. And damn if that didn’t make him feel ten feet tall—a notable feat for a guy who’d felt beaten down for most of the past year.
He gently rubbed his hands over her arms. “What do you need right now?”
“I don’t even know.” Pretty blue eyes searched his. “I’ve been fighting nausea off and on, but I can’t sleep because I get scared when I’m alone. I’m hungry, but I’m afraid to eat anything. And I don’t want Sara to know any of this because I don’t want to upset her.” Her gaze flickered off to her right, and Easy looked that way to find Marz and Charlie sitting at the desk in the corner, working but occasionally glancing their way.
“That’s Marz and Charlie. Would you like to meet them?”
She ducked her face, and with that one gesture Easy knew she wasn’t ready for people to see her like this. Bruised and shaken and scared. And he found himself wishing he’d been the one to kill Bruno all over again.
“How ’bout we wait for the intros ’til you’re feeling a little better?” he asked. The relief that filled her expression reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He focused on what she’d said, and wondered which of her concerns he might be able to address. She needed sleep, food, security. Hell, he could handle all of that, if she’d let him. And, damn, feeling not only needed but useful? It was like hitting the damn jackpot.
“Do you think you could sleep if you weren’t alone?” he asked.
Her eyes went wide, and he saw the answer on her face before she even replied. And it filled his gut with all kinds of Hell, yes.
“Maybe,” she finally said.
Maybe, his ass. But he played it cool even though his mind was truly trippin’ over how good it felt to be needed.
“Come on, then.” He folded her little hand inside his much bigger one and guided her toward the door. Walking next to her emphasized how small she was compared to him. Her head just reached his shoulder. The disparity made him feel that much more protective of her.
They took the steps slowly, and Easy couldn’t help but draw satisfaction from the fact that her trembles had almost completely died away. But he didn’t let that fool him into thinking she was okay. She’d had two panic attacks within a few hours’ time. It seemed he wasn’t the only one very likely rockin’ some PTSD.
Of all the things to find in common with this woman, he really wished that weren’t among them.
And here they were stuck in the middle of a situation in which it would be hard to get her the help she needed. Wasn’t like they could just run all over Baltimore. Not with Church very likely looking for Sara and Jenna, not to mention their rescuers. Rock, meet hard place. Fuck you very much.
Inside the apartment, Easy led Jenna to his bedroom, where the little lamp on the floor was still lit. “Would you be okay if I took a quick shower? I won’t if you’d rather—”
“No, of course it’s okay,” she rushed out, her gaze dragging down his chest again. Just like she’d done in the gym.
Easy swallowed hard and willed his body not to react. But, damn, it had been a long time since a woman had looked at him the way Jenna was doing now. Way he’d been feeling, it’d been a damn long time since he’d even put himself out there. Turned out being pretty well convinced you were a worthless piece of shit responsible for the death of your best friend didn’t put you in the dating frame of mind. Go figure.
Annnd that thought quickly doused any arousal Jenna’s gaze had been stirring.
“Okay, then. Be right back,” he said. When she nodded and smiled, he left for the bathroom, shut the door, and ditched his clothes. He’d taken some fast showers in his day. Hell, during basic, they’d had three minutes to get in and out of the shower all while their drill sergeant hovered over them with a stopwatch. This shower was on par with those.
Last thing he wanted was for Jenna to get scared again. Not on his watch.
Except . . . all he’d been thinking about was getting back to Jenna as quickly as possible. Which meant he hadn’t been thinking about what he planned to wear when he returned to his room. Where she sat waiting. For him.
As he dried off and stepped out of the shower, Easy’s gaze snagged on a wad of clothing stuffed into the small plastic trash can under the sink. He knelt . . . and pulled out the Lenny Kravitz T-shirt Jenna had been wearing when they’d rescued her. Dropping his forehead to the fabric in his hands, Easy’s gut squeezed as he remembered the day he’d thrown away the bloodied clothing he’d worn during the ambush. He’d discarded it not because it’d been stained but because he’d never again be able to look at it and not remember how the blood got there in the first place.
Carefully, gently, Easy folded the shirt into a neat rectangle and returned it where he found it—where Jenna had discarded it . . . in favor of one of his shirts.
The thought hauled him off the floor. He wrapped the white towel around his waist. No choice but to brazen it out.
He stopped in the bedroom doorway and eyeballed his duffel. He didn’t want to freak her out by parading around half-naked, but there was no help for it. Jenna sat perched on the corner of the bed, one foot bouncing in agitation, her hands fisted in the comforter. Damn, talk about brazening it out. She was scared. He’d put money on it. And so focused on just making it until he returned that she hadn’t even noticed him.
He cleared his throat. “You okay?”
Her gaze flew to where he stood, and then she did a double take. “Uh, yeah,” she said. He didn’t miss her quick face-to-feet sweep of his body, nor the fact that her foot stopped shaking.
“Sorry, I was so focused on being fast that I forgot to take clothes.”
“Oh, no worries,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor.
Easy crossed to his bag and crouched to grab a few things. He’d spent a lot of years in the Army honing his survival instincts. Like most elite operators, he had a knack for knowing when he was being watched. And those instincts were roaring right now. Heat flooded through his blood. He wasn’t sure what it was about Jenna, but she’d made him feel more like a man in the past few days than he’d felt in the whole last year combined.
“I’m sorry I borrowed your shirt without asking.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain.
And he was having none of it. Clothes in hand, he rose and turned, grabbing onto the towel at his waist so it didn’t fall. “Not even a thing, Jenna. You need something and I have it to give, I will, every damn time. You hear me?”
He wasn’t sure whether he was more intrigued by the smile that played around her lips or the way her cheeks turned pink. “Yeah,” she said.
He nodded and gestured to the hall. “Be right back.” Just before he walked out the door, he glanced over his shoulder, and found her gripping the bed and bouncing her foot again. Because he was leaving.
Then he wouldn’t leave. At least, not enough to actually leave her alone. “All right, Jenna. I’m getting dressed right outside the door. Don’t come out now. Wouldn’t want to tarnish my reputation.”
A soft chuckle floated out to him. “Riiight. Okay.” But he heard the relief in her voice, too, and that was all he needed to know he’d made the right call. He dropped the towel and nearly jumped into his
clothes, one eye on the bedroom doorway, one eye on the apartment doorway. He’d never live this down if Marz or Beckett walked through the door right now. Not likely, since Marz was neck deep in research, and Beckett had run out to buy more burn phones, but when was the last time things had gone his way?
When you met Jenna?
Easy froze just as his fingers grasped his zipper, then he slowly pulled it up. Hell, yes, when he’d met Jenna.
“Okay, I’m decent,” he said, returning to the room. He hung the wet towel on the inside doorknob. “Want this open or closed?”
“Closed.” Her gaze was full of blatant interest as it ran over him again, and it felt like a physical caress despite the jeans and white undershirt.
“You got it.” The door clicked shut.
Jenna scrubbed her hands over her thighs. Another nervous gesture.
You didn’t spend eight years in the Special Forces without also learning how to read people. Which was part of the reason Easy was so pissed at himself over Marcus’s death. Because the morning their convoy had been ambushed at a roadblock that had no business being where it was, Colonel Merritt had been jingling something in his pocket. Later, Easy had asked him a question, and the Colonel had been staring off into space and hadn’t heard him. Neither the nervous tick nor the distractedness was typical of Frank Merritt, yet Easy had explained them away. And three hours later, six of their friends were dead, as well as Merritt himself.
Hindsight was a fucking bitch.
But none of that mattered right now, did it?
Easy knelt in front of Jenna, determined to get to the bottom of her nervousness. “Okay, what will most put you at ease? Because you are wound as tight as a top.”
“I know. My thoughts are just all a whirl, and I—”
Easy caught her gesturing hands in his. “Not a criticism. Just an observation. And I want to help.”
A series of emotions flashed over her face. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Truth?” Easy asked, wondering just how much of it she needed from him to be more at ease.