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

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SARAH

Serendipity.

I always liked the word, ever since I was a kid. When I was young, it seemed magical, evoking images of unicorns and fairy tales and rainbows with pots of gold at the end. And as I grew older, it was a reminder that even when things looked bad, there was always the possibility of something good coming out of it.

But now I really know what serendipity is.

It’s Dante.

Two months ago, when everything fell apart, I never, ever expected to find the love of my life. The most I hoped for was to find a way out of the chaos. A way to set my life back on track.

But I found so much more than that.

Now I have a man I love with all my heart. And he loves me back. I have a new home, with a group of new friends who are becoming like family. I have security. Living at Blade and Arrow, I always feel safe. Protected. If not by Dante, by one of his trusted teammates.

I have a man who will do anything to make me happy.

In the two weeks since we’ve been officially living together, Dante’s gone above and beyond to make me feel at home. He turned the spare bedroom into a library slash office for me, complete with plenty of bookshelves and a huge, squashy chair to read in. He stocked the kitchen with every ingredient I could possibly want to make all my recipes, plus a Kitchen-aid in my favorite color, which made me actually shriek with excitement when I saw it.

Knowing how much I love being by the water, he’s clearing a new path to the pond on the property and building a dock so we can paddle around in a canoe or just lounge there whenever we want. And we have plans to head to the Adirondacks this summer so we can visit all the gorgeous lakes—Blue Mountain Lake and Mirror Lake and my favorite, Lake George.

Waking up beside Dante, snuggled into his big body, his muscular arm wrapped protectively around me, I can’t feel anything but lucky.

I feel lucky each morning when he gets up for his pre-dawn workout and kisses me softly on the forehead, whispering, “Go back to sleep, beautiful. I’ll be back soon. I love you.”

And when he returns to bed after his workout, freshly showered and gloriously naked, waking me gently with his kisses, I can’t believe how lucky I am.

Once I’m awake? Then the fun really starts.

Like this morning, as he trails kisses down the length of my body, paying extra attention to my breasts and belly and the little tattoo of a golden eagle on my hip that I got in college. He loves that little tattoo, especially knowing that it represents my heritage, just like I love the blade and twin arrows inked on his biceps, the insignia of the Green Berets.

Once he’s kissed me all over, I return the favor. I flick my tongue over his flat nipples and kiss my way down his stomach and then, lower, taking his velvety heat into my mouth and using my tongue to do that special move that brings him right to the edge.

When we’re both balanced on the precipice, ecstasy so close , we come together.

Dante enters me, sinking deep, filling me in a way I never felt before. Joined like this, it feels like I’m finally complete. Like we’re two puzzle pieces that found their perfect match.

As we move faster, our movements grow frenzied. Uneven. Desperate. Sounds come out of me that I would have been embarrassed to make before. Not with Dante, though. He loves it when I show how much I want him. And I’m never ashamed to let him know.

There’s a ball of energy and heat inside me, coiling in my belly, ready to explode.

Dante drapes my legs over his shoulders, tilting my hips so he can go even deeper, bottoming out with each stroke. The tendons in his neck are tensed as he holds himself back, waiting for my completion.

And then, as he uses his fingers to rub at my exposed and swollen bud, he pumps into me one more time, and I’m done. A firework with the fuse lit, I erupt into a burst of stars. My vision blurs. My muscles go tight. My inner walls convulse around him.

That’s all it takes to set Dante off, too. And I love it, especially now that we’ve switched to birth control, feeling his heat deep inside me, a primal sort of claiming.

Maybe one day, we’ll do it for real.

As we both come back down to Earth, Dante gathers me in his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I love you,” he murmurs, his breath feathering across my hair. “So much.”

“I love you .” I kiss his jaw, feeling his stubble brush against my lips. “I love waking up next to you. And I love waking up like this .”

“Oh, Sarah.” He strokes my hair. “Me too.” There’s a long pause before he adds, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay if I leave today? I talked to Matt, and he said he’d take my place if it’s not a good time.”

A weight settles on my chest. I knew it was coming; Dante finally leaving for a security job, and I was really fortunate that he could put it off this long. The team has been really busy, what with taking on a new pro-bono case and several jobs lined up over the next few weeks. Dante arranged it so he could stay back at headquarters while I got moved in and settled, but it’s not fair to expect his teammates to take all the jobs just because I want him here.

Anyway, he’s only going to be gone for three days, and he’ll be in Austin, which isn’t even that far away. I can handle that. I’ve already made plans with Jade to go shopping and have a movie night, plus I have a few interviews set up, and there’s more than enough at B and A to keep me busy. It’ll be fine .

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “Don’t worry. It’s only three days. I’ll be fine.”

“Still.” Dante sighs. “If you have nightmares… I want you to call me. It doesn’t matter what time.”

“I will.” Or not. Dante’s going to be working full days helping train a CEO’s security team. I’d rather not call him at three A.M. just because I can’t get back to sleep.

“Sarah…” Dante rolls over, still holding me, and gives me a gently stern look. “I can tell what you’re thinking. You don’t want to wake me up. But I want you to. Please.”

“Okay,” I concede. “But I may not have any nightmares. They’ve been getting better.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but wisely lets it go. “Matt and Xavier are leaving tomorrow for that job in Houston, but Niall will be here the entire time I’m gone. So if there’s anything you need… And I’m just in Austin. So, if?—”

“Dante. It’s okay.” Smiling, I kiss his cheek. “We’ve gone over everything. It’s going to be fine.”

His brows draw together, forming tiny lines between them. I think he’s having a harder time leaving than me. “So, today—you have an interview, right?”

“Yes. And then one tomorrow, and another the day after. This one is for a youth advocacy program in Seguin. It’s a newer program, but it sounds really promising. I would be working with at-risk teens, helping them get services, working with their families…”

“That sounds great.” Dante’s lips curve into a smile. “Sounds right up your alley.”

“Yeah. So, I hope that goes well. Now that Matt got my social media all cleaned up, I’m hoping I shouldn’t have too hard a time finding a new job. Plus, my old boss did agree to be a reference. I think she feels bad about everything.”

“She should.” His arm tightens around me. “I’m glad you’re not going back there.”

“Me too.” It’s true. Not just because my old office is in San Antonio, and I’d rather work closer to B and A, but because of the bad memories that come with it. “But I’m meeting with my old coworker, Raya. She’s been texting about getting together. So we’re going to have lunch at one, and my interview is at three.”

After a long pause, Dante says slowly, “I don’t want you to take this as me not trusting you. But after everything… I’ll be honest. I’m having a hard time leaving you. So… will you just do a few things for me? Please?”

“Of course I will.” How could I say no when he looks at me with that vulnerable, pleading expression?

On an exhale, he says, “Take my new car, okay? Matt has it all set; it’s completely safe. Text me when you get to the restaurant and interview. And make sure you’re wearing those earrings, the ones with the trackers in them. I promise I won’t ask you to do it every time I go out of town, but just this time…”

I don’t hesitate. “I’ll do all of it.” After everything Dante has done for me, this is the least I can do to make him feel better. And it’ll make me feel safer, too. With a little smile, I add, “I’ll text you so much you’ll get tired of it.”

“Not possible, beautiful.” Dante frames my face with his hands and brushes a soft kiss across my lips. “I’ll never get tired of hearing from you.”

For my first official solo venture back in public, it hasn’t been too bad.

I was a little nervous, if I’m being honest with myself. Not because I actually think there’s a threat—not with Ivan securely in jail and the case against him so strong. It’s more likely a symptom of my PTSD, which I talked to my counselor about the other day.

“I know I shouldn’t feel scared,” I told her, “but when I think about going out in public alone, I get really anxious. It’s frustrating. There’s nothing to be scared of. But my body doesn’t seem to agree.”

“That’s normal,” she assured me. “You experienced trauma—the attack, the car accident—and it’s natural to want to stay where you feel safest. Blade and Arrow represents safety to you, and you’re going to feel anxious leaving it for a while. Just take things slowly. Little trips. And be kind to yourself. If something is too much, it’s okay. Just try again another day.”

Everything she said made sense. But I really want to find a new job, so I can’t exactly chicken out when it comes to an interview. That’s why I thought having lunch with Raya would be helpful. I could get used to being out in public with someone I know before going off to meet a complete stranger.

And as I head across town for my interview at the Teen Advocacy Group, my idea seemed to have worked. I don’t feel like vomiting from nerves, my hands are steady, and I’m mostly confident I can meet with the director of the agency without having a panic attack.

I never used to worry about these sorts of things. But little by little, I’ll get past it.

After all, I managed to get through lunch just fine. I met up with Raya at the Cozy Cuppa, a cute coffee slash tea shop in Seguin run by a British transplant. There were fifty varieties of teas and finger sandwiches and biscuits and everything was served on vintage-style china.

It was nice seeing Raya, and I’ll definitely have to make an effort to see her again. She was sweet and sympathetic and she thought our boss was wrong to put me on leave, stating angrily, “Tanya talks about having a welcoming and supportive environment for our clients. She should have supported you, instead of shutting you out.”

And she was horrified to hear about Ivan, having made the same assumptions about him as I had—that he was quiet and a bit awkward, but harmless. “I guess you never know about anyone, do you?” Raya asked, shaking her head at the rhetorical question. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Sarah. But I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Before we left, we made plans to get together again, next time as a double date with her new boyfriend and Dante. “The speed dating actually worked,” she laughed. “But I guess you didn’t need it.”

No. I didn’t. And while my journey to find love with Dante wasn’t easy, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

While I was leaving the coffee shop, I had one small bump. Or a blast from the past, as it was. I ran into Tanner, which was the last thing I was expecting.

Thankfully, he’s not working or living in Seguin, but happened to be there to meet with a local psychiatrist. During our stilted conversation, I found out that he’s still living in San Antonio and working at the same hospital, and he’s still obsessed with that stupid Rush T-shirt.

“I don’t have it,” I told him firmly, and this time I added what I’d been too tactful to say before. In a bland tone, I suggested, “Have you asked any of the women you were cheating on me with? Maybe one of them has it.”

Was it the mature response? Probably not. Did it feel good to say it? Yes.

I didn’t mention that interaction when I texted Dante. That’s something better shared in person. But I have kept to my word, messaging him before and after lunch, once I got into my car, and now just outside the front door of the Teen Advocacy Group building.

Standing off to the side of the door, I pull out my phone and tap out a quick message.

Just got to the interview with some time to spare. Everything’s good. I’ll text you as soon as I finish.

As I wait for his response, I take a good look at the building. It’s small, just one story, a little rundown, but not too bad. There’s a new welcome mat in front of the door and a cheerful wreath hanging from it. A bronze sign just to the right announces, Teen Advocacy Group: Seguin Branch. Two potted plants sit to either side of the entrance, both with colorful blossoms.

It looks like a lot of the non-profits I’ve visited, using small decorations to liven up the space because there’s not enough money for bigger improvements. And that’s okay with me. I’d rather the money go towards serving the clients than a fresh coat of paint on the walls.

Although, if I work here, I bet the B and A guys would volunteer to spruce it up. And Dante would insist on springing for a new security system.

Speaking of Dante, his reply blinks onto my screen.

I’m sure you’re going to be amazing! Can’t wait to hear all about it.

Awww. Even the littlest things make my heart turn to mush.

Checking the time, it’s just five minutes to three, so I silence my phone and slip it into my purse. Then I push the door open, take a steadying breath, and walk inside.

The interior is pretty much what I expected—a few armchairs, slightly worn, some end tables with pamphlets on them, a vaguely seventies-style carpet, and a reception desk with several bowls of candy on it. There’s no one at the desk, so I take a seat in a chair as I wait for the receptionist to come back. I don’t actually mind being the only one here, as it gives me time to compose myself and mentally run through my resume one last time.

I’m not waiting long. A minute or two later, a woman enters the reception area from an attached hallway and smiles at me apologetically. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting out here alone. Our receptionist is out sick today, so I’ve been trying to keep an eye on things out here and get work done in my office.”

“It’s no problem.” Standing, I return her smile. “I just got here. And I completely understand.”

“Good.” She holds her hand out to me. “I’m Julie Morrow. Director of the Teen Advocacy Group, or TAG, as we call it in-house. I’m so glad you could come in.”

Taking her outstretched hand, I reply, “I’m Sarah Pearce. Thanks for having me. I’m really excited to talk about the job.”

Once Julie releases my hand, she gestures for me to follow her. “Come. We’ll have a chat in my office.” As we walk down the hallway, past several closed doors, she adds, “It’s quiet here today. I have two people in court, and two more making house calls. And another out sick with the same thing the receptionist has.”

We stop at a door at the end of the hallway, and she turns to me. “We’re in desperate need of another social worker. And with your qualifications… We’ll have to talk, of course, but I think you could be a great fit here.”

Optimism flares, warming my chest. “I really enjoy working with kids. And the program you have here sounds interesting.”

“It is,” Julie replies as she opens the door. “We’re pretty new, only been open for six months, but our benefactors feel strongly about our mission.”

As we walk into the office—another bare-bones room, like the rest of the place—she makes a small, tsk ing sound. “Shoot. I just realized I left all the interview paperwork in the copy room. Take a seat—” She waves at one of the chairs facing a small wooden desk. “I’ll be right back.”

She pulls the door closed behind her as she leaves the room, which seems a little odd since there’s no one else here. But then again, she’s probably used to keeping doors closed for confidentiality. At my last job, I tended to leave my door open when I wasn’t seeing clients, but there were other people I worked with who preferred the privacy.

After a couple of minutes go by and she’s still not back, I start to get a little antsy. Sitting still with nothing to do, it’s harder to keep my nerves at bay. The worries I’ve been trying to ignore— is it really safe, what if Ivan gets out, what if he gets access to a computer —make an unwelcome reappearance.

Stop . It’s fine. Ivan is in jail. He can’t get out. He’s not allowed near a computer. He can’t hurt me anymore.

But still, sitting here in this austere office with nothing to distract me, it’s really hard to not let my anxiety get to me. I could take out my phone, but if Julie comes in, I’d rather her not see me playing on my phone during an interview. So I decide on my old standby, box-breathing, to help me calm down.

And after a minute of it, I feel better. My stomach isn’t as jittery. My hands don’t feel as trembly.

It’s okay. I’m fine. She probably left the papers somewhere else, and she’s looking for them. She’ll be back any minute.

Except. Do I want to work for someone this disorganized? Someone who’d leave a prospective employee waiting alone in their office? I’m not sure. But it’s like my dad told me, the interview goes both ways. This is my opportunity to find out about this place. To see if I want to work here.

At this point, the jury’s still out.

After another couple minutes on my own, I’m having serious doubts about working here. Which is fine; I have two more interviews lined up, and there are plenty more places to look. So I’ll just get through this interview, go home and text Dante about it, and get ready for the next one.

Maybe I’ll text him now. Does it matter if Julie walks in and sees me?

But when I reach down to grab my phone from my purse, my head starts spinning. And when I sit back up, my vision blurs.

What?

I take a deep breath, hoping to clear my head, but it only gets worse.

Now it feels like the room is moving, and I’m sitting still.

My stomach lurches, like I just got off a crazy roller coaster.

Something isn’t right.

My thoughts are scattering.

Could it be carbon… monoxide? Dioxide? Which is it?

If it’s that, I need to get out.

Shoving myself up from the chair, I almost fall on my face before I catch myself.

Oh, shit.

I lunge for the door, but the doorknob won’t work.

Turning around, a wave of dizziness knocks me to my knees. Scrambling up, I rush to the lone window, though it feels like I’m moving in slow motion.

It won’t open.

Why won’t it open?

Panic is clawing at me. It’s hard to breathe.

I want Dante.

My phone. I drop to the ground and fumble for it, finally snatching it out of my purse.

But it won’t work. Vision blurring, I jab at Dante’s name, trying to call him. But nothing happens. The call won’t go through.

I try to send a text, squinting at the screen as I type out help and send it. But again, it doesn’t work.

Why won’t it work?

Why do I feel so terrible?

It’s getting harder to keep my eyes open. My limbs are getting weak.

I want Dante.

The earrings.

I sag to the floor, my muscles not feeling like my own. Helpless tears run down my cheeks. Each blink takes longer and longer.

With my waning strength, I try to reach for the earring Dante gave me. It’s supposed to signal for help from anywhere. Tell Dante and his team I’m in trouble.

I’m in trouble .

Darkness edges in.

I can’t move.

Please. Dante. I need you.