Guarded from Sabotage (Blade and Arrow Security Bravo Team #2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

SARAH

Remember, think positive .

There are people in the world so much worse off than me.

I’m not going to turn into one of those people that wallows in self-pity, walking around with a gloomy expression, leaving a trail of negativity in my wake.

Even though the spreadsheet I created to manage my dwindling finances looks more depressing by the day, I’m not going to let it get to me.

Even though it’s becoming increasingly obvious that this identity theft isn’t random, and I’ve been intentionally targeted, I’m not going to spend hours obsessing over who could possibly hate me this much.

And even though it hurts every time I bend my knees or pick something up and my lip stings when I talk, I know how much worse my injuries could have been.

The man who attacked me could have done anything. In that deserted parking lot, there’s no telling when someone else might have come by. I’d like to think I’d have fought back, but what if I didn’t get the chance? What if he kept his promise and shot me? Or he could have?—

No. I might not be able to avoid the what-ifs in my nightmares, but I can ignore them while I’m awake.

When I’m awake, I can focus on the positive things. My job. My apartment. My family and friends. Blade and Arrow helping me.

And Dante. Possibly the best part of all of this.

Who am I kidding? Not possibly. He is.

I liked him when we met at the wedding, but I couldn’t let myself think of him as anything more than a friend. It didn’t matter that Tanner and I had been arguing for months by then and I had a sinking feeling it was only a matter of time before we broke up. I was still engaged, and infidelity is something I won’t stand for; not through my own actions or my partner’s.

But now… friends doesn’t feel like enough. And as much as I’m trying to have realistic expectations—I’m a client, Dante is just being kind, this is probably the worst time to get involved with a man when the rest of my life is so messed up—it’s really hard not to want more with him.

When he hugged me last night, I wanted it to last longer.

When he held my hand, I didn’t want him to let go.

And shamefully, when he said he’d sleep on the couch last night, part of me wanted to ask if he’d stay in my bedroom instead.

Not to have sex. Despite my attraction to him, it’s still much too soon. But to fall asleep with his reassuring presence nearby, possibly snuggled against his very broad and muscular chest, knowing he’d be there to help chase the nightmares away…

I didn’t ask. I wasn’t brave enough. But it was still nice having him here, even if he wasn’t in the same room with me.

I’d been hesitant when he brought up staying over at my apartment last night, already feeling guilty about taking up so much of his time. Dante didn’t just drop everything to come get me, he spent hours with me—carefully cleaning my wounds, cooking me a delicious meal, and even holding my hand whenever I got upset.

Maybe that’s part of the typical Blade and Arrow service, but I really don’t think so.

We were just wrapping up our meeting with Matt when Dante said, “I don’t feel comfortable with you staying alone, Sarah. Not after everything that happened. The attack may have been a coincidence, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Before I could respond, Matt added in a gentle tone, “I know it’s not ideal, Sarah. We were hoping all this was random, but given what I found out tonight, I really don’t think it is. It looks like you’ve been targeted, and with the attack…” His brown eyes darkened in compassion. “We don’t want to risk your safety.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. And honestly, I didn’t have the energy to. Not after a long day followed by a frightening and stressful night and an apartment in the iffy part of town to go home to.

Up until last night, I’d been hoping it was all random; that my information was stolen in a big security breach like I heard about on the news. But what happened with my car sounds pretty darn intentional.

That was the first thing Matt discovered—for six months, my car payments had been rerouted to a defunct account, and my address had been mysteriously changed so I never received any notices for missing payments.

“The money is still there,” Matt explained. “No one has touched it. Which makes this look like someone did this to mess with you.”

Yeah. It does. I just wish I knew who. Or why.

The other piece of news wasn’t great either. Matt accessed the security footage at the dealership in Austin, and it was inconveniently—or conveniently, depending on who’s being asked—missing on the day the car was stolen. And the employee who handed over the keys could only give a vague description of the suspect that could be pretty much any woman in her thirties or forties with brown hair.

“Does that mean we’re looking for a woman?” I asked.

Dante hesitated before answering. “Possibly. Or an accomplice. Or someone paid to do it. We don’t have enough information to know yet.”

I appreciated his honesty, but it wasn’t very reassuring.

But. I’m getting back to my positive thinking. I have Dante and his team. Matt came over and hooked up all sorts of cameras and sensors and alarms, and I think my apartment is now more secure than the Louvre. Dante is staying over again tonight, and he and Xavier will start alternating days tomorrow.

I don’t know Xavier as well as Dante, but I’ve met him a few times and he’s always been nice. So that’ll be okay, too. Not as good as having Dante here, but probably safer for my heart.

“Hey, Sarah?” Dante’s rumbly voice breaks into my thoughts, and I look up from my laptop to see him standing in the doorway to my bedroom. He gives me a little smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I set my laptop down and close the lid. “Just going over—” Don’t bring up money. Then he’ll feel bad and offer to help again and I don’t want to bring money into whatever kind of relationship we have. “Emails and stuff. Nothing interesting.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “Well. Matt’s about to leave, but he wants to take a look at your laptop. He said he can have Xavier bring over a loaner tomorrow. Just for a few days. Is that alright?”

I slide off my bed, grab the laptop, and walk towards Dante. “It’s fine. I don’t keep any of my work files on here. Just personal emails and social media stuff, mainly. I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be.”

“Don’t ask me,” Dante replies with a smile. “He’s the computer whiz. I’m lucky I can set up the videoconferencing for our meetings. But if he thinks it might help…”

“Of course.” I hand the laptop to him. “If Matt thinks there’s something on here, I’m happy for him to look at it.”

“Great.” Dante gazes at me for a moment, his eyes darkening to a deep twilight. “How are you feeling? Sore? Do you need more ice? Something for pain?”

“I’m good.” Mostly. At his skeptical expression, I add, “Really. It’s just some bruises. No big deal.”

“I’d still like to check your knees,” he replies. “Make sure I got everything out, re-bandage them… And how are your hands feeling? You don’t have the bandages on them anymore.”

“Yeah, it was a little hard to shower with them on.” Smiling, I hold my hands out to him. “But they’re not too bad. Just some scrapes, really.”

Dante takes one hand, then the other; his brow creasing as he inspects my palms. “They’re looking pretty good,” he concedes. “But—” He gently cups my chin. “How about here? It looks like there’s a little swelling. Maybe we should get some ice…”

For a second, I can’t respond. All I can think about is the feel of his skin against mine. His thumb lightly sweeps along my jaw, both soft and rough at the same time. Each tiny movement sends tingles through my body—like my body is infused with static electricity and Dante’s touch is setting it off.

Our eyes meet, and there’s this sort of tug between us. His pupils dilate so there’s only a thin ring of deep sapphire around them.

My heart stutters.

All the air feels like it’s been sucked from the room.

The way we’re standing, with Dante leaning down to inspect my face, I’d only have to move a few inches for our lips to meet.

Just a few inches, and I could kiss him.

There’s a look in his eyes that makes me think he wouldn’t mind. That he might want to kiss me, too.

But I’m not sure .

And if I’m wrong, it’ll mess everything up. Not just the humiliation, though that would be pretty bad—pressing my lips against his only to find them hard and cold and unreceptive. But if I kiss him and he’s not interested, it’ll make everything awkward. He won’t want to touch me for fear of giving false encouragement. Our conversations will become stilted. The comfort I feel around Dante will be gone.

I can’t risk it. Not when Dante is supposed to be staying here tonight and every other night after until my case is resolved. The rejection would be too much to bear on top of everything else.

So instead, I take a tiny step back and Dante’s hand falls away from my chin. As I silently command my pulse to slow, I smile at him. “I think I’m alright.”

Something flickers across his face—disappointment? relief? regret?—and after a brief pause, he returns my smile. “Okay. I should get the laptop to Matt. He’s probably wondering what’s taking so long. And I was thinking, once he leaves, we could order some dinner. Or I can make something.”

“I can make dinner,” I offer. “Since you cooked last night. It only seems fair.”

“With your hands like that? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s fine. If you knew how many times I used to cook with cuts and burns at the—” As Dante’s face clouds, I cut myself off. “Anyway. There are plenty of things I can make that don’t require a lot of prep work. And you can be my sous chef, so I don’t have to use my hands as much.”

His lips quirk. “You’re trusting me to help you cook?”

“Of course.” My smile brightens. “I’d love to cook with you.”

And that’s how we end up side-by-side in my kitchen, Dante deftly chopping peppers and onions while I brown the beef for the classic picadillo we used to make at the restaurant.

Or at least, I’m trying to brown the beef, but I keep getting distracted by his forearms and biceps. All golden skin with a dusting of dark hair, muscles flexing as he moves, intricate tattoos rippling along with them—I’ve never thought much about a man’s arms before, but Dante’s? I can’t stop thinking about them.

“Am I doing okay?” Dante glances over at me, his eyebrows raised in a questioning V. “If I’m not cutting them the right way, just tell me.” He pauses, and a mischievous smile tugs at his lips. “Or is there another reason you’re keeping an eye on me?”

Heat floods my cheeks. Busted.

“Oh, no. You’re doing great,” I reply quickly. “Really. I was just—” Ogling his arms? Imagining them wrapped around me again? “Just watching,” I finish lamely.

He sets the knife down and turns to face me. “Are you okay, Sarah? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. Just… it’s probably the heat from the pan.”

And definitely not how his T-shirt is stretched across his chest, hinting at muscles I felt when he hugged me, but wouldn’t mind seeing. And now that I’m looking at his chest, my gaze dips lower without intention, moving past his flat stomach— does he have a six-pack , I wonder—and down to his impressively muscled legs.

Oh, my gosh. What is wrong with me?

Even in the early days with Tanner, I never felt this intense attraction towards him. Tanner was cute in a buttoned-up way; clean-shaven, his hair neatly parted, usually wearing khakis and one of his dozens of polo shirts. More lean than muscly, his exercise consisted of racquetball and golf with his friends from work.

But Dante is nothing like Tanner. And I like it. I like Dante’s casual T-shirts and jeans and cargo shorts. I like that his hair always looks a bit messy, like he just rolled out of bed and ran his hand through it. I like how his brush of stubble accents his strong jaw. I like how Dante’s smile always seems genuine.

And I like his muscles. A lot.

“Do you want me to take over?” Dante asks. He rests the back of his hand on my cheek. “You do feel a bit hot. Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

“No, I’m fine.” I flash him a bright smile. “Really.” Glancing at his pile of chopped vegetables, I add, “We should probably add those in now. Then we’ll mix in the tomato sauce, the broth, and the seasonings, and let it simmer for a while.”

As the spicy aroma fills the kitchen, Dante leans over the pan and inhales deeply. His shoulder brushes mine, and a shiver zips through my body. “This already smells great,” he says. “I can’t wait to try it. And this is something you used to serve at your parents’ restaurant?”

“Yeah. It was one of the most popular dishes. And I love how easy it is to make.”

Dante’s gaze meets mine. “You met Hanna at the restaurant, right? I think that’s what you said during your toast at the wedding.”

“Right.” I smile at the memory. “It was the summer after my freshman year at college, and I was waiting tables like I had the last few years. Hanna was a new hire, and we just hit it off. You know those people you meet and it feels like you’ve known them forever? That’s how it was with Hanna.”

A thoughtful expression softens his face. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

I lift the lid off the pan and give the mixture a quick stir. “Ever since that summer, Hanna and I have been best friends. It was tough when I moved here, leaving her, but she understood.”

“Do you regret it?” Dante looks at me seriously. “Moving to Texas? After what your fiancé did… Did you think about going back to New York?”

“For a little while,” I admit. “But then I thought, I’m not going to let him impact my life anymore. I found my own place, got a better job…”

“And what about now? After all of this?” Tiny worry lines etch between his eyes. “Do you want to leave after we get all this resolved?”

Before I can second guess myself, I ask, “Would you miss me if I left?”

There’s a pause before he answers; long enough for my stomach to twist into a knot. Long enough for me to start wondering how to backtrack, to pass my question off as a joke.

Then Dante tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger there. “Yes.” His gaze burns into mine. “I would definitely miss you, Sarah. Very much. And selfishly, I hope you stay.”

Oh.

Hope blossoms in my chest.

I catch his hand as he starts to pull it away, wrapping my fingers around his. “I’d miss you, too, Dante. And I don’t want to leave . ”