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

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

DANTE

Why was I fighting so hard against this?

For all my hesitations, being with Sarah is even better than I imagined.

I haven’t lost focus on my job, or her case.

Even when we’re apart, I can still concentrate on work because I know she’s safe at the Blade and Arrow property, protected by a top-of-the-line security system and highly-trained Special Forces operators.

When we’re together, not only can I protect her, but I can do everything in my power to make her happy. I can watch movies with her while I massage away the knotted muscles in her back. I can bring her gifts that make her smile, like the set of measuring spoons with book quotes on them I found at the little bookshop in Seguin. And I can hug and kiss her until she’s breathless and those tiny worry lines etched across her forehead smooth away.

Initially, I had a moment of worry about living so close to each other. That the close proximity might push our relationship to move faster than she—we—are ready for. I’ve dated women who lived in the same town as me, but just down the hallway? Would it be too much pressure?

No. Not in the least.

Partly because Sarah’s independent, and she likes having time to herself. She’ll let me know in the morning over breakfast—in the week she’s been here we’ve gotten into the habit of sharing coffee and breakfast after my AM workout—that she has plans to work on her resume, or practice yoga with Erik, or spend some time in the library reading.

And the other reason it’s not too much pressure? Because I really like spending time with her.

When we’re together, I’m happier. More relaxed. The ever present worries—will I live up to the role Cole trusted me with, can I make this branch of Blade and Arrow a success, how much longer until Sarah’s case is solved—don’t go away, but they fade into the background.

When I’m with Sarah, everything just feels right . Like after thirty-eight years, I may have found the person who fits me, just like my parents did decades ago.

Plus, with Sarah so close, it’s so much easier to see her. I don’t have to drive to San Antonio to take her out on a date. I just walk down the hallway. And when we say goodnight—we haven’t spent the night together yet, and that’s one thing I’m not going to push—I know she’s only minutes away if she has a nightmare and needs me to comfort her.

Does it suck not being right there to hold her when she has a bad dream? Absolutely. The first time she called me at two A.M. to shakily ask if I could come over to help her get back to sleep and I showed up to find her pale and red-eyed with streaks of tears drying on her cheeks, I wanted to insist on staying with her every night.

I didn’t, obviously. That’s a decision she needs to make. But when she calls, nothing could keep me away.

It’s almost scary how much I care about Sarah already. Like if I lost her, I’d lose a part of myself.

Not that I have any intention of that happening. Not by hurting her like I did the night she kissed me, and definitely not by allowing anyone else to hurt her.

That’s the one bad thing. The person behind this sabotage of Sarah’s life is still out there, and progress on her case isn’t going nearly as fast as I’d like. Even normally patient Matt is frustrated by the roadblocks he keeps coming up against—nested VPNs and proxy servers and hacked databases plus a host of other techie things I don’t fully understand.

What we do know is this person is good . Everything they’ve done has been meticulously planned, so it seems like we’re always two steps behind. Like the security cameras outside Sarah’s office, which we hoped would help us identify the man who attacked her. But when Matt got a hold of the footage, it was clear someone had hacked into the security system and put it on a loop, so all we saw was hours of an empty parking lot.

Not only was it a disappointing discovery, but also more evidence that the attack wasn’t random. Already, it seemed too convenient—Sarah mugged in the parking lot on the same day her car was repossessed. “The whole thing was planned,” Matt said with a scowl. “I’d put money on it. This person knew when the car would be taken, hired someone to attack Sarah, and bypassed the security at the exact right time.”

“But why ?” Xavier asked. “The guy could have hurt her so much worse, but he didn’t. He wasn’t interrupted. He just left.”

“Because it’s all part of it,” I replied through a clenched jaw. “Whoever this is… they want to destroy every part of Sarah’s life. Her finances. Her job. Her car. Her apartment. And they want her scared. They want her to wonder when the next blow is coming.”

“Well, not anymore,” Xavier growled. “They thought Sarah was alone in this. She’s not. We have her six.”

It’s times like these that make me glad I joined Blade and Arrow. I always admired how Cole and his team came together to protect their women, but I never imagined my own woman as the one who needed help.

My woman?

When did I start thinking of her as mine? And not in the possessive, domineering way that would earn me a smack from my mom and sisters. But in the way that I want to be the one she comes to for help. That I’m the one who takes care of her.

Does it matter when it happened, when the truth is the same?

I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. I’d started to think I might never find what my parents have—married for forty years, still as in love as ever—but now…

She might be the one .

After years of prioritizing work over relationships, of thinking romance was for other people, now I have someone I want to do special things for. I want to buy thoughtful gifts and make romantic gestures like Niall’s birthday celebration for Jade and the Christmas surprise Cole gave his wife, Maya, after she was hurt.

I want Sarah to know how special I think she is.

Which is why I’ve planned something different tonight. Instead of our usual activities—cooking together, taking walks around the property, alternating between watching sappy movies and History Channel documentaries—I’m taking Sarah out on a real date.

At first, I wasn’t sure about taking her out in public. Just because this mysterious hacker hasn’t tried something violent yet doesn’t mean they couldn’t.

But Xavier suggested this place he went to with the woman he’s dating, an Italian-Mexican fusion restaurant in Seguin. It sounds a little odd—Italian and Mexican cuisines together—but then again, what’s more fitting than that?

Plus, the location is perfect. Just outside of town, with no other businesses around, it’ll be easier to keep an eye on anyone who comes near. Especially considering I’ve rented the entire restaurant for the night—it’ll just be me, Sarah, the chef, and one server—and Matt’s going to be monitoring the exterior security cameras while we’re there. And of course, I’ll be protecting Sarah the whole time, and I’m not letting anyone get close enough to hurt her.

So the safety part of it is set. As for the romance… I brought over two-dozen roses to have sitting at the table, a bottle of Sarah’s favorite wine, and I asked the owner to create a tasting menu so we can try a little of everything. And I’m wearing a suit instead of my usual jeans and T-shirts, which, judging from the appreciative look Sarah gave me when I came to her apartment to pick her up, was a good choice.

It was my mother who suggested it, telling me during our weekly phone call yesterday, “If this is a special date, Dante, you should dress the part. Wear a suit instead of those jeans you always have on. And trust me, women always like seeing a man in a nice suit and a crisp, white button-down.”

I’m not the only one who dressed up for this. Sarah’s wearing a dress in a shimmery coral shade that brings out the color in her cheeks. It clings to her curves and the neckline comes down in a V that shows the tiniest hint of cleavage. And when she sits down, like she is right now, the hem hits mid-thigh, showing off an expanse of toned leg.

As I glance over at her, she crosses her legs and the dress drifts even higher.

Oh.

For probably the fiftieth time since I first saw Sarah standing in her doorway, arousal pulses through me, and I shift slightly to relieve the growing pressure.

Just as I’m trying to surreptitiously adjust myself, Sarah turns towards me and rests her hand lightly on my leg. “Thank you for doing this, Dante. I’m so excited to go on a real date.” Pausing, she amends, “Not that I don’t enjoy staying in and cooking with you. But this… and it’s a Mexican-Italian fusion place. I love it. It’s like—” She stops, and her cheeks go pink.

“It’s like us,” I finish, and cover her hand with mine. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here.”

Her face lights up and she beams at me. “Yes. It’s like us. A perfect match.”

How could I have ever thought this was wrong?

It’s a thought that recurs several times more as the night goes on.

When we get to our table and Sarah sees the roses—coincidentally, in almost the same shade as her dress—she throws her arms around me and kisses me hard before drawing back to exclaim, “It’s my favorite color, Dante. How did you know?”

I didn’t know. But I suspected, since I’ve noticed her wearing this color a lot. And it looks gorgeous on her, complementing her golden skin and the blend of gold and bronze in her hair.

The feeling of rightness comes again during dinner, as Sarah tastes the poblano risotto and moans in pleasure, setting off thoughts of hearing her sexy little moans in a more intimate setting. Hopefully, with fewer clothes.

And as she snuggles up next to me while we share dessert, now having moved to the same side of the booth as me, I can’t imagine why I ever hesitated.

Sarah takes a bite of the churro cannoli and sighs. “This is so good. I never would have thought about this combination… but it’s incredible. We should try to make this at home.”

Home . It’s the first time she’s called Blade and Arrow home, and I like it. Not that I have any plans of asking her to move in with me, at least not this soon, but someday…

I can see it. Like a series of snapshots of our future, I can see me and Sarah, living together, cooking every night, throwing big holiday celebrations for both our families, getting a dog, and maybe, one day, starting our own little family. Sarah would instill her love of reading, and I could teach them about history, and?—

But we’ve only been dating for a week. It’s far too soon to be thinking about marriage and kids. Isn’t it? And who’s to say Sarah even wants that with me?

Maybe, once this is all over, she’ll decide to leave Texas. I know she said she wants to stay here, but if she moves back to the East coast, she’ll be closer to Hanna and her family. She could decide there are too many bad memories in San Antonio and it would be better to start over somewhere else. And I’m committed to Blade and Arrow; I can’t up and leave when our branch is just getting started.

“Dante?” Sarah’s concerned voice draws my attention. She’s looking at me with a worried expression, and she touches my arm lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” I give her a reassuring smile as I shove my worries to the side. “Why?”

But I know why. Sarah’s so attuned to other people’s emotions, of course she’d pick up on any change of mood.

“You just looked… not happy. Worried.”

“I’m okay,” I reassure her. “Really.”

But she doesn’t look convinced, and since I don’t want to tell her what I was really thinking—it’s a bit soon for that, I think—I quickly change the topic. “I’m really okay,” I repeat, and I take her hand in mine, giving it a little squeeze. “Just got caught in my thoughts for a second. But there’s something I realized I hadn’t asked you.”

“Oh?” Her brows wing up. “What’s that?”

“Well, I know how much you love being a social worker, and the kinds of things you do, but I don’t think we ever talked about why you decided to become one. Was it something you always wanted to do?”

Sarah hesitates; long enough for me to realize this wasn’t as innocent of a question as I thought. Then she blows out a breath. “Well. No. When I went to college, I thought I wanted to be a teacher. But sophomore year, I changed my mind.”

Even though her tone is carefully neutral, there’s an undercurrent of strain that makes me say, “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Another deep breath, and a slow exhale. Her eyes darken to a tarnished bronze as she meets my gaze. “No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time, and I want you to know.”

I take both her hands in mine, cradling them like fragile glass. “What happened?”

“It was just before Christmas break, sophomore year,” she says, “and I went to a party to celebrate being done with finals. I went with a couple of friends from my dorm; one of them knew the guys throwing the party through one of his classes.”

A sick feeling settles into my stomach.

“I had some drinks, but nothing too crazy,” Sarah continues. “And I was very careful about not leaving my drink unattended.”

My molars grind together painfully. “Did someone?—”

“No. Not that. My drink was fine.” She pauses, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “But when I went to use the bathroom, the one downstairs was taken. One of the guys who lived there suggested using the one upstairs. I didn’t even think about it. I just went.”

Stabbing pain radiates from my jaw down my neck. “And?”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “When I left the bathroom, he grabbed me. Pushed me back inside. And he…”

Fuck.

It’s a pained groan. “Sarah?—”

“He tried to. But before he could, one of my friends came looking for me. Chris—my friend, not the asshole—got worried and when he heard the noises in the bathroom, he kicked in the door. Got the asshole off me.”

She strokes my clenched jaw, her gaze softening. “I was lucky. I walked away scared, shaken, but he didn’t get what he wanted. A lot of women don’t have a friend that stepped in.”

Forcing my voice to stay calm, I reply, “I wouldn’t call being assaulted lucky .”

“Maybe not. But I was luckier than most.”

Rage is beating at me. I want to track that piece of shit down and show him what I think of men who attack women. But anger isn’t going to help Sarah, so swallow it down and keep my tone gentle as I ask, “Did he get in trouble?”

Her gaze dips to the table. “Not for a while. At first, I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t want them to know how stupid I was. Wandering around a party by myself, not taking someone to the bathroom with me…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. Now I do. Back then… I was so young.” She looks back up at me. “So I didn’t say anything for a few months. But it kept eating at me, so I finally went to the counseling center on campus. I thought… maybe I should report him. So I talked to this incredible social worker, and she got me into counseling and helped me go to the police, and I did end up pressing charges against him.”

Shit. I’m imagining nineteen-year-old Sarah, so scared, but bravely facing her attacker as she tries to do the right thing.

A wave of protectiveness crashes into me, more powerful than any before. Without thinking, I wrap an arm around Sarah, cuddling her against me. Then I freeze. Shit. She’s telling me about a traumatic experience, and maybe she doesn’t want me touching her like this?—

But she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Dante. I’m okay.” After a brief pause, she adds, “Because Chris had been there, it wasn’t a he-said-she-said situation, like a lot of cases. With a witness, the charges stuck. Which makes me mad every time I think about it. Not for me, but for all the women who are speaking on their own. The women who don’t have someone to back them.”

Sarah lifts her chin as she says, “So the jerk got probation, which isn’t really enough, but it was something. And he left campus at the end of that year. I’m not sure why, but I was just glad he was gone.”

“Sarah.” It’s low. Rough. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“I’m not.” When I jerk my head back in surprise, she explains, “The experience was terrible, yes. But meeting that social worker… it gave me a career I love. And eventually, I was able to stop a predator. Get him away from the women on campus. I just wish…”

“What, beautiful?”

Regret tightens her features. “If I’d said something sooner instead of waiting for months… What if he assaulted another woman and I could have stopped it? That’s the part I can’t forget. The guilt that sticks with me.”

“Sarah.” I gently kiss her forehead. “You’re not responsible for anything he did. His actions are on him , not you.”

“I know that. Logically, I do. But sometimes… it’s hard not to feel guilty.”

I hate that she blames herself for something that so obviously wasn’t her fault. But I understand how sticky guilt can be, and how hard it is to get free of it. Which is why I find myself sharing something I’ve never spoken about before.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her firmly. “But I understand how guilt can be tricky. Even when we know it’s not our fault, the thoughts still sneak in.”

Sarah tilts her head as she meets my gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I haven’t. But with you, I do. I want you to know.” I stop to brush her hair behind her ear, giving myself a moment to prepare. “It was July of last year. We were on a mission overseas—it was just me and my split team, so there were six of us. We’d gotten some intel about a target and tracked him to an abandoned building. But?—”

The memory comes roaring back, as violent and terrible as it was that day.

“It’s okay, Dante.” Sarah’s soft voice soothes me. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.” Threading my fingers between hers, I concentrate on her satiny skin and how her hand feels so perfect in mine. “The building was rigged with explosives, but by the time we discovered it, we were trapped. Our HAZMAT guy, Jeff, thought he could disarm one of the bombs to get us out. Our captain—Nolan, who you met—wanted to figure out a different way.”

As I trace the lines of her delicate fingers, I continue, “Jeff insisted. So we let him. And really, there may not have been another option. But… the bomb went off. Jeff… I tried, but he was too badly hurt. I couldn’t save him.”

“Dante…”

“Another teammate, Tyler, lost part of his leg. Erik suffered a traumatic brain injury and his peripheral vision got screwed up, so it pulled him off our team. He could either work a desk or leave the service. So he left. After that… it put things into perspective. I was getting older; soon I wouldn’t be able to do missions anymore. My parents were getting older. My sisters were having kids.”

“I’m sorry, Dante.”

“I felt guilty,” I explain. “I still do. I still wonder if there was something I could have done to save Jeff. To save Tyler’s leg.”

Sarah holds my gaze, empathy written across her face. “I’m sure you did your absolute best. Sometimes… there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Nodding, I agree, “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. From the guilt sneaking back in.”

“Dante.” She starts to stand up, and my stomach clenches. What was I thinking bringing this up? This is supposed to be a romantic date, and I’ve managed to dredge up Sarah’s past trauma and my own.

But then she sits back down, this time on my lap, and everything inside me settles. “You’re right,” she says softly, “guilt is a tricky thing. Even when we know it’s not our fault, it’s hard to let go of it.”

Emotion thickens my throat. “I’m sorry I messed up our date. It was supposed to be romantic, and I brought up all this?—”

“No.” Sarah frames my face with her hands. “You didn’t mess it up. It is romantic. And talking like this—it’s important. If we’re going to have a future together, we need to be able to talk about everything.”

“Do you see a future together?”

Her lips curve up, and she leans closer to me, her lips a whisper away from mine. “Yes. Do you?”

The pulse at her neck flutters. Spots of pink rise in her cheeks.

“Yes.” Just before I slant my mouth over hers, I murmur, “I absolutely can see a future with you.”