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

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

SARAH

As far as bad days go, this has to be right up there.

First, my social media and email get hacked, and horrible things I couldn’t even imagine thinking are splashed all over them. Insults I’d never dream of saying. Slurs so awful I couldn’t bear to read them. Terrible lies about my coworkers and clients.

Then my job. The thing I take the most pride in; gone.

I don’t know how I’ll pay my bills if I’m not working. But I’ll probably be kicked out of my apartment once the owner sees the damage done to it. Then I’ll be homeless and jobless and I’ll have to move in with my parents. I’ll end up being a financial burden on them. Their comfortable retirement will be ruined.

They don’t know how bad it is yet, and I don’t want to tell them. Earlier today, I texted my mom and told her my accounts had been hacked, but not to worry, I’d get it all worked out. That everything was fine.

I definitely don’t want to tell them about the SWAT team breaking into my apartment and arresting me. I don’t even want to think about it.

Unfortunately, the events of a few hours ago are on a constant loop in my head.

The sounds of the police breaking the windows and knocking down the door.

The shouting. Harsh voices ordering me not to move, to put my hands behind me, reading my rights as I was arrested.

Sitting in the back of the police car, confused and terrified.

Shivering in the interrogation room, while stern-faced officers grilled me about things like bombs and my mental state and why I’d want to hurt innocent people.

It was horrible .

If not for Dante, I’d be a complete mess.

But with his arm around me, the warmth of his body chasing away the lingering chill from the station, his rumbly voice soothing my nerves as he talks, I can keep myself from falling apart.

I can lean against him as we walk through the Blade and Arrow headquarters and focus on the feel of his hand on my waist, instead of the cold metal handcuffs snapping around my wrists.

I can breathe in his comforting scent—pine and citrus and something else I can’t identify that’s uniquely him—and the pressure on my chest eases a little.

A little voice in my head reminds me sternly, he’s only taking care of you because it’s his job. He’s only touching you because he’s worried. Don’t read too much into it. And definitely don’t get used to it.

But I don’t care. Not now. I’ve dealt with enough harsh realities today.

I just want to absorb Dante’s presence for as long as I can and not examine the reasons behind it. Soon enough, I’ll be in the client apartment, forced to face the memories of today and the uncertainties of tomorrow alone.

“The building is extremely secure,” Dante says as he enters a long series of numbers into a keypad beside the front door of the Blade and Arrow building. He waits while a camera scans his eyes. When the lock disarms, he pushes the door open and gestures for me to go in ahead of him.

“I don’t want you worrying about anyone getting in,” he continues as we head inside. “They can’t. I promise. All the doors and windows have alarms, we have cameras all around the property, and you saw the fences. The one directly around the ranch is ram-proof and we’ll be alerted if anyone tries to breach it.”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to respond. But I can’t. Now that his arm isn’t around me, I’m cold again. My chest feels carved out and aching. The band around my chest tightens.

“Sarah?” He glances at me with a concerned gaze, his brows pulled into a worried V. “Are you okay?”

I give him a jerky nod. Through a narrowing throat, I say quietly, “I’m fine.”

Dante stares at me for a second, his eyes darkening to a midnight blue. Fine lines crease his forehead. Then he wraps his arm around me again, and everything inside me unclenches. In an achingly gentle tone, he says, “I’m sorry. Of course you’re not okay.”

But I feel better now. Sort of. My voice is firmer as I reply, “I’m okay. Really.”

He casts me a skeptical look, but doesn’t push it. “I just want you to know you’re safe here.” As we move through the large living room the team uses for when they want to hang out together, he adds, “You’re welcome to explore any part of the ranch. Use whatever you want. The gym, the sauna, the library… Or if you want to learn how to shoot, we have a range in the basement. Niall’s our sharpshooter, but I can teach you, if you want.”

I can’t imagine myself holding a gun, let alone firing it, but if Dante wants to teach me… “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Dante gives me a little squeeze, hugging me to his side. “I just wanted to offer. Some people feel more comfortable knowing how to shoot. But it’s not for everyone.”

We continue through the living room and down the hallway that leads to the team members’ apartments. Since I’ve been here before, it’s not unfamiliar, but there’s a surreal quality this time.

This time, I’m not leaving. At least not for a while. Not until this disaster that’s taken over my life is resolved.

At least, I hope it can be resolved. Whoever’s behind this can’t be that good, can they?

Like he’s reading my mind, Dante says, “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Sarah. I promise.”

His gaze is so certain it’s impossible not to believe him. Gut and heart in agreement, I reply softly, “I know.”

“Sarah—” He stops, swallowing back whatever he was about to say. For a few seconds, we walk down the hallway in silence. As we pass the door I remember leading to Dante’s apartment, a pang of regret stabs into me.

I wish I could be visiting Dante for a normal reason. I wish I was coming over to make dinner and watch a movie with him, and maybe we’d cuddle on the couch and I could feel what it would be like to kiss him.

But instead, we keep going until Dante stops in front of a door with a little welcome sign hanging from it. “Jade insisted,” he explains, gesturing to the sign. “She said she wants people to feel welcome here. Since she had to stay at B and A for protection, and she remembers how intimidating it was in the beginning. Not now, of course, since she’s with Niall, and she knows all of us…”

Dread is expanding inside me as the reality of my situation sinks in.

In a matter of minutes, I’m going to be in that apartment alone.

No Dante to make me feel better. Just me, alone with my thoughts.

I’ve never minded being alone before. As a kid, I liked escaping to my room, getting away from the controlled chaos of the restaurant. When I got tired of the constant chatter of customers, I’d retreat to my bedroom, where I’d listen to music, read, and shut the rest of the world out.

As an adult, I like the peaceful times after work, when I can decompress after a particularly stressful day. I enjoy snuggling up with a book and a glass of wine and appreciating the silence.

But right now, I don’t want to be alone.

It’s not that I just want just any company, either. I want Dante to stay with me.

“Jade and Niall came in and stocked the fridge,” Dante says. “And Jade left some clothes for you to borrow until we can get your things from your apartment tomorrow. We have most of the streaming channels, and there’s a laptop for you to use, and?—”

He stops. His brow furrows as he looks at me, and his lips thin into an unhappy line. “Sarah…”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I’ll be fine.”

But it would be more convincing if my voice wasn’t quivering.

Indecision flickers in his eyes, but it disappears just as quickly. In a gruff voice, he says, “No. Not yet.” Then he turns away from the door, guiding me back in the direction we came.

My voice rises in confusion. “Dante? Am I not staying here anymore?”

He glances at me.“You haven’t eaten. It’s way past dinnertime. And I bet you didn’t eat lunch, either.”

“Um. No. I guess I forgot.”

We’re back at his door, where he punches in another complicated code into the keypad attached to the doorknob. “It’s not healthy, Sarah. You’ll get sick.” As the door opens, he leads me inside, his arm still solidly wrapped around my waist.

“I can make something,” I start.

“No. Not after today. It’s too much. Let me make you something. So you don’t have to worry about it. We can have dinner, and if you want to watch some TV after, and…” Trailing off, his expression shifts from determined to uncertain. “Unless you want to go back to the apartment. Have some time alone.”

“No.” It bursts out louder than I intended. More quietly, I add, “I’d like to stay for dinner. And TV. If you don’t mind. I know I’ve already taken up your whole night, and you were supposed to be off?—”

Dante turns me into his chest and hugs me. His chin rests on my head, and his breath feathers across my hair. Gruffly, he says, “Of course I don’t mind. And you’re not taking up anything. I want you here. For as long as you want to stay.”

My heart jumps.

But I’m sure he doesn’t mean it that way. He’s just being kind.

I think.

“Do you want to shower while I cook?” Dante asks. “I can go over to the apartment and grab something Jade left for you. Or I can lend you something.” He steps back to look at me, a small smile appearing. “Although any shirt I give you would look more like a dress. But I have plenty of sweatshirts and maybe some shorts with a drawstring…”

While I’m sure Jade left me something that would fit better, I don’t hesitate as I answer, “I can wear something of yours. If that’s okay?”

“It’s absolutely okay.” His smile gets bigger. “I’ll find some things for you to choose from and leave them in the bedroom while you’re showering. And I’ll start cooking something for us to eat. Is there anything you’re in the mood for?”

Since I’m not really hungry—being arrested after police storm your apartment is a pretty efficient appetite killer—I just say, “Anything you want to make is fine.”

But when I come into the kitchen after my shower, the delicious aroma of cheese and garlic and a hint of white wine makes my appetite come alive again.

I’m already feeling significantly better now that I’m clean; the faint stink of perspiration and fear replaced by the fresh scent of Dante’s soap. Like he said, his Army sweatshirt is like a dress on me, but wearing it feels like a cozy and comforting blanket. The shorts are laughably big, even with the waistband rolled up, and as Dante looks up from the stove as I enter the room, I’m expecting him to burst into laughter.

Instead, he freezes mid-stir and looks at me with an intensity I haven’t seen before.

Lightly, I say, “You were right. It is like a dress. But I love this sweatshirt. It’s so warm and soft. It’s like wearing a blanket.”

As I walk towards Dante, he swallows hard. His gaze is still glued to me. “You look—” Another swallow. “Really…”

“Silly?”

“No.”

“Should I change? Do I look ridiculous?”

“No.” He sets the spoon down and lowers the heat on the stove. “You look… beautiful.”

My cheeks warm. “Like this?”

“Yes.” His face is like a statue’s, all strong lines and angles. “Just like this. Comfortable. Your hair”—he touches a strand of my still damp hair—“looks like burnished bronze. And your cheeks are all pink. And wearing my sweatshirt…”

He pauses. “Maybe I shouldn’t say it. But you do. And you can wear my sweatshirt any time you want.”

“Any time?” My mouth curves into a smile; the first one I’ve had all day. “What if I want to wear it every day?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Then you can have it. If you like it, it’s yours.”

Our gazes meet, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my heart flutter. My chest goes tight, but it’s not from fear or anxiety.

It’s hope.

But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m making more of this than it is?

What if that logical part of my brain is right, and this is just Dante being friendly?

Although. Would he tell his friends they’re beautiful? Would he look at them with the same intensity as he’s looking at me?

Flustered, I glance around the kitchen, noticing the fettucini Alfredo Dante’s making—which looks and smells incredible—the dishes that are neatly washed and set in the drain by the sink, and finally, a shimmery pink gift bag on the kitchen island.

Jealousy flares, hot and sudden.

That’s a gift for a woman.

Maybe he has a girlfriend. He’s never mentioned one, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dating.

It shouldn’t matter.

Dante follows my gaze, and he actually blushes .

“It’s for you,” he says. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow. When I came over. If you want it now… Although, after today, you might not be in the mood for a gift. It can wait.”

A present? For me?

All the crappy parts of the day fade away, replaced by joy fizzing up inside me.

“What if I don’t want to wait? Can I have it now?”

“Then you don’t have to wait.” He puts a lid on the pot of sauce and grabs the bag, then hands it to me. “You can open it whenever you want.”

I turn the bag in my hands, inspecting the slightly crumpled tissue paper and the lopsided bow attached to the handles.

An image fills my head—Dante’s big hands carefully tying the delicate ribbon, his forehead creased in concentration—and my heart squeezes.

While Dante watches me intently, I pull out the tissue paper and reach into the bag. He says, “It might be silly. But you were talking… And I thought maybe we could watch it together sometime.”

When I pull out the DVD, I actually stop breathing for a second.

Tears burn behind my eyes. My nose prickles.

“It’s Beaches ,” I whisper. “You remembered.”

“Of course. You said we should watch it, so…” He nods at the bag. “There’s more. Look.”

With a trembling hand, I reach back inside the bag.

“Oh. Dante.” I stare at the collection of things he bought for me; tears threatening to escape.

I can’t believe he did this.

“Is it okay?” For the first time since I met him, Dante looks nervous. Vulnerable.

“Yes.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I set everything down on the counter and fling my arms around him, squeezing hard. “It’s perfect. I love all of it. Thank you so much.”

He strokes my hair, and his lips press to the top of my head for a second. “We don’t have to watch the movie tonight. It can be whenever you want.”

“I’d love to watch it tonight with you.” Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze. “There’s nothing I’d like to do more.”

Emotion washes over his face.

“Honey. There’s nothing I’d like more, too.”