Control (Harper Security Ops #18)

Fifteen

FIFTEEN

Ty

If I hadn’t noticed the excitement in the air the second I sat down behind the wheel of my car, I would have gotten a clue about it the moment I shut the door.

Because two hands wrapped around my bicep, squeezing. Alana was holding on to me, doing it while leaning in my direction with her gaze focused out the front windshield. There was an enthusiastic hum coming from her, like she was attempting to control what she was feeling and unsure she was going to keep it contained.

I watched her, feeling slightly amused, and the only thought that ran through my mind was that I wished it wasn’t so cold outside. If it’d been spring or summer, I’d likely just be wearing a T-shirt and could have felt Alana’s fingertips directly on my skin.

Although I had been paying attention to what was happening in the café, I found myself a bit distracted. It started right around the time I worked up the courage to place my hand on Alana’s thigh.

Of course, it had just been instinct—the result of hearing what I thought was our first real piece of information that deserved a bit more scrutiny. I had wanted Alana to know that the information was important and worth diving deeper into, and I simply reacted.

But I liked the way it felt to have my hand on her thigh, wishing for the first time today that it had been summer. Maybe then, Alana would have been wearing a pair of shorts or a dress. I could have had my hands on her bare leg.

My ability to focus on the discussion the three women were having diminished further when Alana sought out my hand. I had been paying enough attention to know that reaction was merely her needing some comfort after learning what she had.

But it still didn’t stop me from feeling immense gratitude for the opportunity to hold her hand in mine and recognizing just how much I liked the way it fit with mine. It then became a struggle to concentrate on the conversation. Instead, I found myself pulled to consistently stealing glances at Alana, discovering new things about her that I liked—everything from the sound of her voice and the ease with which she conversed to the scent of her perfume and the way she crinkled her nose whenever she was thinking hard about something.

Now, she was doing it again. She was seeking me out in response to what she was feeling, and the lightness it created in my chest was unmatched.

I dared to take my eyes off her and followed her gaze. Bethany and Clover had each gotten into their own vehicles and were pulling out of their parking spots. Alana’s grip tightened on my arm.

The moment both cars had left the lot, my eyes met Alana’s. Hers were wide, slightly frantic, and she squealed, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Can you believe that? I… I can’t even begin to process everything they just told us.”

Fortunately, regardless of the level of distraction I’d felt inside the café, I had absorbed the most important details. Alana’s reaction to it now was completely understandable.

“I think this was easily the best interview you’ve had throughout these last couple of weeks,” I told her.

She smiled, nodding her head furiously. “I know. I know. It’s so great, even as heartbreaking as it is.” Releasing her hold on my arm, she dug into her purse, pulled out her notepad, and said, “I don’t want to forget any of this. We need to make a list.”

I wanted her hands back. “A list?”

“Of names. Potential suspects. Ty, I can’t tell you how badly my heart was breaking in there. I hate to say this, but I’m getting the distinct feeling that Annie Sanders was murdered by somebody close to her.”

“It’s certainly starting to feel that way,” I admitted. “Who are you thinking is the most plausible at this point?”

Alana’s eyes roamed over my face, and I told myself it was because she wanted to memorize every part of my face. But I knew that wasn’t truly the case. She’d been working so hard on this story, and she finally felt like she’d gotten a break in it, so she was attempting to process it all.

“I don’t know. I think there are arguments that could be made for several people in the mix. There’s the obvious one of the ex-boyfriend. That timing is wildly suspicious. He came back here four to six weeks before Annie was murdered,” she reminded me.

“And he had a motive, since she was rejecting him,” I added.

“How horrible would that be? The man everyone thought she was going to marry ends up being the one who killed her because she wanted babies, and he refused to have them. Oh, the mere thought of it breaks my heart for her.”

“We need to dig in and find out more about him,” I urged her. “And I’m thinking the brother deserves a second look, especially after what Clover and Bethany shared today.”

“Yes. Clearly, he had a motive, too. But again, how horrible that her brother could be responsible for her death over money? It’s just so tragic.”

“The worst thing about it is that a man like him has resources. We don’t know anything about this guy, Mark, but Reed Sanders has access to money. And even if it seems like he’s a tightwad who only cares about money, he might have been willing to part with some cash now if he thought it could secure a bigger fortune for him down the road.”

Alana thought about it for a moment, no question her wheels were spinning. As though some crazy thought had just popped into her head, her eyes widened, and I was certain she’d stopped breathing.

“What is it?”

“What if her mom is involved?”

“You think?”

She shrugged. “There was the odd interaction between Reed and her the day we stopped by. Clover said that Monica didn’t fight her husband on donating money because she was so caught up in the family’s image. What if she secretly feels similarly to her son, knows what he did, or even came up with a plan to get rid of her daughter, and now she’s thinking they won’t get caught? I mean, she was oddly serene for someone whose daughter recently died.”

I stared at Alana in disbelief. “You know, if you ever decide to leave your job at the news station and decide the podcasting thing isn’t for you, I think you could have a very lucrative career at Harper Security Ops as a private investigator.”

She jerked back. “Really?”

Nodding, I confirmed, “You’re phenomenal, Alana. Not only do you have this determination and drive to get to the bottom of this, but your instincts are incredible.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say.” Her voice was soft, timid.

“I’m just being honest. And while it will take time to build an audience, I think you’d do a heck of a job doing this thing as an independent journalist for real instead of pretending to be one.”

A flush of heat crept over her skin. “Thank you. Your vote of confidence certainly gives me a lot to think about. It’s strange. I was so fired up to get back to the station when I was first in the accident, but now I’m sort of dreading having to go back.”

“Yeah?”

“I thought I’d be relieved to get my clearance from the doctor now that the swelling has subsided. To a degree, I am, but only to the extent that I’m healing. I don’t know, I just don’t want to lose momentum. I don’t want to stop what I’m doing here for Annie, even though I’m only going to be returning part-time for the first few weeks.”

Unable to stop myself, I reached for her hand. I took it in mine, squeezed, and said, “We’ll still get this done. I promise.”

Her eyes dropped to our linked hands, her fingers twitching. “There’s the other issue that sucks about going back to work.”

“What’s that?”

She met my gaze, the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re going to be bored all day waiting for me to finish.”

I almost burst into a fit of laughter. Instead, I cocked a brow and decided to take advantage. “Maybe you should let me have some fun now, then.”

There was an involuntary squeeze on my hand, her body tensing. “How could I do that?”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?”

I hesitated a moment, considered my options, and said, “I know you’re all fired up about everything we learned this morning and that you’ll likely want to spend the rest of the day organizing your thoughts and coming up with your next move after we go visit Yasmine in the hospital. But tomorrow, I want to take you out. No work, no stories, no investigation. Just two people going out to do something fun and grabbing some dinner afterward. What do you think?”

Alana’s thumb moved slowly over the skin on the back of my hand. I wondered if she even realized she was doing it, or if she knew the effect that she was having on me. Following a long stretch of silence, she said, “Okay, Ty. After everything you’ve been doing to help me and be such a critical part of this project with me, I think it’s only fair you get something you want. I’ll let you take me out for dinner and some fun tomorrow evening.”

Until she’d given me that confirmation, I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been that she might turn me down. I grinned at her, allowing myself to not feel the slightest bit guilty about the attraction I felt to this woman so soon after my break-up.

There was something about Alana that I was drawn to. Maybe it was that she was gorgeous. It could have been her determined but fun disposition. Or perhaps it was the way she made me feel valued, like I wasn’t wasting my time by wanting to go the extra mile for her.

Whatever it was, I refused to pretend I didn’t feel it. I’d lean in and risk taking a chance on a woman like her.

“Did you enjoy that?”

Alana smiled at me from across the table, her eyes holding a softness about them. “I did. It really was a lot of fun. But I have to say, I think you had more fun than I did.”

I shrugged, settling back in my chair in an attempt to hide my satisfaction. “I was with you. I don’t think you understand just how much fun you are to hang out with.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “I don’t know, Ty. I’m pretty sure you were just caught up in the terminology being used this afternoon.”

She wasn’t wrong.

As promised, I’d taken Alana out for some fun this afternoon before bringing her out to dinner tonight. While I’d had a slew of ideas run through my mind about what I wanted to do with her, unfortunately, some of them weren’t options right now with her foot still in that boot.

So, I’d settled on taking her to a glass blowing class. We’d had such a great time—much better than I had anticipated. And considering I knew I was going to be spending time with Alana, I had already anticipated it being amazing.

The thing was, there were so many aspects to glass blowing, so many terms, that had me thinking some unsavory thoughts. There was the blowing part of the glass blowing, and I certainly made sure to pay full attention to it when Alana had her turn using the device known as the blowpipe.

But there was also talk of the glory hole, which was one of the reheating furnaces used to reheat the glass during the creating process.

And finally, there were paddles. Although they were wooden boards used by glassworkers, I could only think of one use for them. Given the jeans she was wearing and the way they molded to her ass, I didn’t think even Alana could blame me for having naughty thoughts about paddles.

Overall, we’d had a great time filled with lots of knowing smiles, mischievous stares, and intentional touches. We could go back to pick up the pieces we’d made tomorrow.

But now that we were out for dinner, I’d merely wanted to confirm that Alana had enjoyed herself. Even if her words indicated she thought I’d been a bit immature about the terminology today, I think she still had a fantastic time. In fact, I think the lightheartedness only made it that much more enjoyable.

“Alright, alright. So, I found some humor in a few of the words. I thought you liked it, too.”

“I did,” she assured me. “It really was a lot of fun. But I have to admit, I was a bit nervous.”

“Why?”

“That pipe was so long, I was sure I was going to drop the glass right off the end of it,” she shared.

I clamped my lips together to stifle the laughter and recalled how uneasy she’d been when it was her turn to use the blowpipe.

Alana noticed my efforts to hide my amusement. “What is that look about?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

I grinned. “I was just going to say that it’s okay you felt nervous. You probably just aren’t used to holding things that big or long.”

Her eyes widened, her cheeks turning pink. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you just said that.”

“You said it first,” I pointed out. “I was just trying to make you feel better about it.”

She narrowed her eyes on me. It was clear she wanted to be intimidating, but the light shining within them told a different story. “So, are you telling me you looked so comfortable with the blowpipe because you’re accustomed to handling things that are big and long?”

My pulse picked up as I sent a confident smirk her way. “Mmm. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The embarrassment I’d seen moments ago was gone, replaced by a cool confidence. Alana nodded and leaned forward. “You are so right, Ty. I’m devastated I might not ever get the chance to have answers.”

The way this was going, I was more than prepared to give her all the answers she wanted. Tossing my hand out, palm up, I reasoned, “You’re a reporter, though. You know how to get to the bottom of a story. I would think those skills might transfer to things you aren’t planning to report on. Surely, if you wanted the truth in this case, you could figure out a way to get it.”

I lifted my drink to my lips and took a sip as she countered, “That’s an interesting take, especially coming from a bodyguard whose job it is to protect things. Maybe you’d hide it from me.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “Not a chance.”

She cocked a brow.

And before either of us could say another word, our server returned with our dinner salads and broke the overwhelming sexual tension that had been building. It was a bummer, because I’d been enjoying it. I hadn’t ever met anyone who could flirt the way Alana did.

As we dove into our salads, Alana said, “In all seriousness, I enjoyed the glassblowing. I’ve never done it before, so I was happy to be able to do it with you.”

Though she’d made it clear she could flirt, Alana also seemed to know when to shift the conversation to something else, something that would make me see she wasn’t just about playing games. I couldn’t describe the way it made me feel to hear her say she was happy doing something for the first time and getting to experience it with me.

I smiled at her, reaching across the table to give her hand a squeeze. “Me, too.”

The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments as we ate our salads, and while there was no question I could have looked at her all day long without needing to say a word, I didn’t want to waste the opportunity we had tonight. So, I asked, “Have you given it any thought?”

“What’s that?”

“The work situation,” I clarified. “Are you set on going back to the station?”

“Wait a minute. I thought you said you didn’t want to discuss work, stories, or investigations tonight,” she countered.

“I don’t. This isn’t that, though. This is me wanting to discuss you. I want to know about where you see yourself in six months, in a year, when it comes to the work you’re doing. Do you intend to still be at the station, or do you want to be out on your own?”

Her expression changed, her features softening in a way I’d seen once or twice before. I didn’t know for sure what it meant, but I always like the way it made me feel.

“I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been on my mind more ever since you brought your camera over and gave me the chance to practice,” she started, setting her fork down on her nearly empty plate. “I don’t know. It’s a nice idea, and I think I could confidently say it’s the dream. There’s just a bit of fear there.”

I brushed my fingers over her knuckles. “What do you mean? What are you afraid of?”

“Well, what if I fail? I’ve been smart about my money in the years I’ve been working, but I can’t be foolish now. I need to do something that’s going to make me money.”

I got what she was saying, and I believed it was a legitimate fear. Alana was so talented, though. I didn’t think it was possible she’d fail. “I understand, but don’t you think what you’re doing right now is important?”

She almost seemed offended that I’d asked such a question. “Of course, I do. Why else would I be risking my life to do it?”

I squeezed her hand again to show some solidarity with her. “I already knew that, Alana. It was more of a rhetorical question, but I think it proves my point. You’re doing what you believe is important now. When you return to the station, you have to do what they feel is important.”

Frustration and a hint of sadness washed over her. “I think that’s the thing that upsets me the most. I don’t get a say. I don’t get to choose what stories I cover, what I believe will make the most impact. It’s not always bad, and I won’t pretend I haven’t had the opportunity to cover some incredible stories, but I would love the freedom to choose. And Dale has made it clear that’s not an option.”

“Going out on your own will give you full control,” I reasoned.

She dropped her gaze to where my hand was holding hers and placed her other hand on top of it. Her fingertips stroked lightly over my skin. “I’ve thought a lot about what I’m doing right now. I feel so alive, Ty. Doing this, feeling like the work I’m doing has the potential to make a difference, it feels so worth it.” Her fingers stopped moving, her palm flattening against the back of my hand, so it was now cocooned between both of hers. Focusing her attention on my face again, she shared, “I won’t stop digging into this story until I get answers. Whether that’s three days, three months, or three years. And I keep asking myself what happens when I figure it out. Unless I’m going to convince Rita to let me hijack a segment on the news, I won’t be able to get it out that way. Of course, it’s such a big story, she might be willing to take the risk.”

“But then the station gets the credit for breaking a story that you worked your tail off for without their support.”

Her shoulders fell, the weight of that disappointing reality falling heavily on her shoulders. “I’ve thought about that more times than I care to admit.”

I wished I could snap my fingers and give her the reassurances she needed to know she wouldn’t fail. Alana was so passionate about the work she did, I truly believed it was impossible for her not to be successful. “You deserve to reap the benefits of your hard work,” I told her. “Nobody else. And your drive and determination to focus on finding the truth and uncovering secrets is something people will admire and respect. They’ll know the passion you have, because it’ll shine through in every story you cover.”

The sense of disappointment she’d been feeling seemed to vanish as the corners of her mouth curved up into a small smile. “If nothing else, it’s safe to say you’re good for my ego.”

“You’re that good, Alana. I’m not exaggerating.”

Before she could respond, our server returned to our table, leaving us with no choice but to separate our hands. “Okay, I’ve got your meals here for you.”

Once we had our food and were left alone again, Alana said, “Alright. As much as I have enjoyed the wild praise and your vote of confidence, I think we’ve done enough talking about me. Let’s talk about you for a while.”

“But I like talking about you.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “You’re not being fair.”

The mere possibility of her being disappointed was enough to have me changing my tune. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

She considered her question for a moment. “Well, you said you like talking about me. I guess I’m wondering, if you weren’t with me right now, if you weren’t spending nearly every day with me, who do you feel like you talk to the most?”

“You dig deep, don’t you?”

Alana batted her eyelashes at me. “What can I say? Some things are impossible to escape. I feel like this is an important question.”

“With an answer that’s arguably more important,” I pointed out. “I guess the best answer to give is to tell you that it’s my family I talk to most, but I’m not sure that’s the honest one. It’s not that I’m not close with them or that I hide things from them. It’s merely that I don’t see them as often as I see my coworkers, some of whom are my closest friends.”

“Will you tell me about them? About your coworker friends.”

I didn’t know why I’d given Alana a tough time about wanting to change the topic of conversation to me. It felt good to have someone interested in hearing what I had to say, about what was important in my life.

Sure, I might have preferred to hear more about her, but it was nice that she balanced things out by demanding to know more about me. I already knew from experience that having someone who wasn’t interested in aspects of my life outside of her would only result in heartbreak down the road.

I couldn’t say what was happening here or where we’d wind up, but at least I could find comfort in knowing we were building a solid foundation on both sides.

“So, how did it feel?”

Confusion marred Alana’s features. “What?”

We were standing at her front door, and I’d just brought her home following our date. This question was one I refused to hold myself back from asking her. “How did it feel to go out on your first romantic date in more than eight months?”

She sent me a questioning look. “This was a romantic date? I wasn’t aware of that.”

I frowned. Had I been reading too much into our interactions with one another? “What did you think this was?”

Alana reached her hand out to my arm and squeezed. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Ty. I just didn’t want to assume it was something more than it was. I mean, I know we both got a bit flirtatious tonight, but I didn’t want to read too much into it and be left feeling disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

She nodded, her pretty eyes looking at me with such cautious hopefulness. “If I thought this was something more than it was, and you only meant for it to be something fun for us to do. I mean, you asked to take me out as a way to have some fun before I need to return to work. It was sweet and friendly, and I enjoyed myself immensely, but it didn’t indicate anything romantic.”

This was the perfect moment. We were standing at Alana’s front door after our date. I would have opted to do something else after our glassblowing and dinner, but I was worried about pushing her too much with her foot still healing.

Taking a step toward her, I said, “Well, then I obviously need to do something to solidify that this was, in fact, a romantic date.”

Between the words I’d said and the close proximity, Alana understood what was happening. Her lips parted slightly; her chin tipped up. And her chest was rising and falling, indicating the pace of her breathing had increased.

I lifted my hand to the side of her neck, just below her jaw, and I leaned in slowly. The moment was so tense, the pull between us undeniable. My lips brushed against hers briefly, and her hands flew to my chest. And the second I heard a whimper escape, I wrapped my opposite arm around her waist to hold her close and captured her mouth completely.

My thumb stroked lightly along her jaw before my hand drove back into her hair. It settled at the base of her skull as Alana melted into me, her soft lips feeling better than I’d imagined.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

I coaxed her lips apart, my tongue sliding past them and into her mouth to taste her. That, too, was better than I’d imagined.

Alana’s hands were digging in, holding on. She was just as consumed, just as needy.

If I didn’t stop us now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to stop.

Begrudgingly, only after giving myself just a few more moments to savor the kiss with her, I tore my mouth away and rested my forehead against hers. The fire that had effortlessly built was crackling between us, and one more kiss would only stoke those flames.

I wanted to stay with her. I wanted to go inside and spend the night with her wrapped in my arms.

And there was a part of me that wondered if perhaps she wanted the same thing. She seemed dazed, like she was lost in a daydream, perhaps imagining what it might be like between us.

But despite the expression on her face and the look in her eyes, Alana didn’t invite me in. She didn’t tug on my hand or beg me to stay.

So, I had to go.

Unsure if it was the wisest idea, but unwilling to forego it, I pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Goodnight, Alana.”

“Goodnight, Ty. Thank you for giving me my first romantic date in nearly a year.”

I smiled, laughter bubbling up inside me. This woman made me feel so good. I gave her another kiss. “You’re welcome.”

Realizing if I didn’t do it now, it’d only get more difficult to do, I released my hold on her and stepped back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will,” I promised her.

I waited there while Alana turned and opened her door. Once she was inside, I made my way back to my vehicle and left.

And on the drive home, like always, my mind was consumed with thoughts of her. Only this time, I could add memories of the way she tasted to the mix. Every time I left her each night, I felt like I’d experienced the best day of my life. Tonight had been no different.

But when I was just a few minutes from my place, my phone rang. And when I saw Alana’s name on the display, my stomach sank.

“Alana?” I answered.

“Come back,” she begged, fear like I’d never heard dripping from those two words. “Please, Ty. Please come back.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

The pain in my throat was unbearable, and the twisting in my gut had me on the verge of losing my dinner.

I turned the car around and made my way back to Alana. I just hoped when I got there, it wouldn’t be too late.