Serve ‘N’ Protect by Tee O’Fallon
Chapter Fifteen
Markus ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to be growing at light speed. It had grown out over the last two weeks, bordering on hippie-length by his own standards, and had begun itching the tops of his ears.
For the last hour, he’d been lying in bed on top of the covers, still dressed as he reviewed Cassidy’s medical file again, making notes on his phone. She’d dug into the workout routines he’d outlined and was making fast progress, but he wanted to make sure he didn’t push too hard and unintentionally cause muscle strain that would set her back.
Both her legs had been crushed pretty badly, and she hadn’t been exaggerating when she said one had nearly been severed. Severe damage to all the major muscles, tendons, and ligaments. The pain she must’ve been in made what he’d gone through seem like a stubbed toe.
He tossed the folder on the bedside table and picked up his worn copy of The Art of War. Flipping it open, he tried reading, but his concentration was shot to shit. The only things he kept seeing were Cassidy’s lush, raspberry-pink lips. He couldn’t stop replaying how soft they would feel, or how sweet she would taste if he ever did kiss her. But he wouldn’t. Ever.
Long ago, he’d learned that he didn’t do relationships. In fact, he sucked at them. Knowing that hadn’t prevented him from looking out the window every morning, watching her front door like a lovesick puppy, wondering what she was doing and when she’d be over to either cook him one of her phenomenal home-cooked meals or hit the gym with him. Shit, he needed to get his head out of his—
Someone screamed.
Cassidy.
Ghost leaped to his feet, snorting.
Markus grabbed his gun and stuffed his phone into the rear pocket of his pants. Not bothering with shoes, he bolted for the stairs, Ghost two steps behind him. Every jarring footfall was like a kick to his gut.
He punched in the alarm code, flung open the door, then raced off the porch and across the grass to Cassidy’s house.
The downstairs light was on. He ran up the stairs and yanked on the door handle. Of course it was locked, and the damned Craftsman door was made of solid oak, just as John’s front door was.
Ghost growled, racing back and forth along the porch, also searching for a way in. Even his dog knew Cassidy was in trouble.
“Cassidy!” He pounded on the door then stopped to listen. Nothing but dead silence came to his ears.
Markus peered through one of the windows, unable to see clearly through the curtain but enough to make his heart stop.
Cassidy lay at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving. “Cassidy!” This time, he pounded on the glass. Still, she didn’t budge.
He shoved his gun into his waistband then spun and raced back down the porch steps. With a grunt of pain, he reached for the rusted piece of metal pipe that had once supported the now-broken porch railing and ran back to the window. Ignoring the throbbing in his torso, he shut his eyes then swung the pipe into the window.
Glass shattered, shards flying at his face. He used the pipe to clear the sill of jagged glass then dropped it on the porch and yanked the curtain aside so he could step up and over the ledge. Ghost followed, leaping over the sill. Instead of running directly to Cassidy as he’d expected, Ghost took off into the kitchen, growling with his head and tail down.
Markus knew the signs. His dog was in full attack mode, telling him Cassidy hadn’t landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs all on her own.
Someone else was in the house.
Markus yanked the gun from his waistband, gripping it with both hands as he searched the living room. Ghost was after someone in the kitchen, but there could easily be more than one intruder. The kitchen door closed. Ghost’s barking intensified as he clawed at the door to get out.
With his heart beating crazily, he raced to Cassidy’s still-unmoving form. She moaned and her head lolled against the bottom step. Thank God. “You okay?” he asked, his clipped voice evidence to the fact that he was wound tighter than a camel’s ass in a sandstorm.
“I-I think so.” She held a hand to the side of her face.
“How many were there?” As much as he was itching for him and Ghost to give chase, first he needed to make sure he didn’t leave Cassidy in the house with another intruder.
“Just one,” she answered, gingerly touching her fingers to where her cheekbone was already swelling.
Sonofabitch.
Pure, undiluted rage pumped blood faster through his veins. Burglarizing her house was one thing, but this fucker had hurt her, and that was unacceptable. More clawing came from the kitchen.
“I’ll be back.” He raced into the kitchen. Ghost stood on his hind legs, his front paws on the door’s window. In the dim moonlight, Markus saw a man running down the street. He flung open the door. “Track!”
Ghost dashed outside, flying through the darkness.
Markus followed, pounding over the grass, down the embankment to the street, stretching the limits of his tender, freshly mended skin. When he hit the asphalt, stones dug into the soles of his bare feet, but he kept going.
His breath came in loud whooshes as he pounded after the target. Ghost was nearly on the guy, his tail bobbing in the air like a whitetail deer. A hundred feet up ahead, a light came on as a vehicle door opened, illuminating the target with the interior light for no more than two seconds before the door slammed shut and brake lights came on.
Over his heavy breathing, Markus heard the engine fire up. Ghost was no more than ten feet from the bumper when tires screeched, and the vehicle took off down the road. Moonlight hit the side panel of the vehicle, not a car. A black van. No windows and no insignia.
Just like the one he’d seen parked outside yesterday. And, when the interior light hit the driver for that split second, Markus could have sworn he’d seen a wisp of blond hair sticking out from beneath the knit mask. Also like the driver of the van from yesterday. Coincidence? Possibly. Possibly not.
Never one to give up, Ghost continued the chase. His dog was so amped-up that if Markus didn’t recall him, he’d gallop right into the next county. “Ghost, come! Ghost!” he shouted, searching the darkness for his white coat and not seeing it.
A flash of white had him blowing out a breath of relief and leaning over to plant his hands on his thighs as he sucked in air. God, he was out of shape. Ghost trotted back along the double-yellow stripes in the center of the road. “Good boy.” Markus sucked in one last breath, holding his hand to his abdomen as they both loped down the road and up the embankment to Cassidy’s house.
Once inside, he shoved his gun back into his waistband and knelt beside her, brushing long strands of hair from her face, gratified to see her eyes flicker, though they didn’t open.
“Cassidy, it’s Markus. It’s Markus.” The fear coiling in his gut slowly unwound to the point that he could think straight. Being cool under fire was his mantra and something he was known for. Seeing Cassidy this way sent a bolt of unrestrained panic obliterating every ounce of his coolness into smithereens. “Honey, look at me. Open your eyes. Please, baby, open your eyes.”
Still, she didn’t move. Ghost licked her hand then her chin, lying down next to her at the base of the stairs. Finally, she opened her eyes and touched her fingers to her cheek, which was bruising more now.
In the span of two seconds, the fear in his gut turned to all-out rage. If the guy who did this had been standing in front of him right at this moment, there’d have been no peaceful resolution. No negotiation. No reasoning of any kind because Markus would have torn him to shreds.
“Stay here. Don’t move.” To Ghost, he ordered, “Guard.”
Leaving Ghost to watch Cassidy, he stepped carefully over her head then pulled his gun and padded quietly up the stairs. Two minutes later, he’d cleared the rest of the house, verifying the guy who’d run off was indeed the only intruder.
Returning to Cassidy, he searched her face and body for blood and other injuries, relieved at finding none.
“Think you can sit up?”
Grimacing, she nodded.
As usual, he wanted to say something but couldn’t put his emotions into words. What else is new? That was the story of his life. “I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.”
“No, I’m fine. Just help me up.”
He did, watching her every move intently, still searching for other injuries that he’d missed. “Did you black out?” If she had, it could mean a concussion, and he’d drive her to the hospital whether she liked it or not.
She thought for a few seconds, then, “No.”
Markus didn’t like the slight hesitation in her response. “No? Or you’re not sure?”
“No, and quit with the interrogation.”
More relief gushed through him at her snarky response. This was more like the Cassidy he’d come to know, a sign that she couldn’t be hurt all that badly.
Only then did he realize her pink top had risen to just beneath her breasts, exposing her flat tummy. He tugged down the top, noting how her body quivered as his fingers contacted her skin. A good kind of quiver or a bad kind, he couldn’t be certain. She leaned against him, and he automatically slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her closer and rubbing her back in what he hoped were soothing circles, the same way he’d done after she’d fallen on the porch steps. Although, this time, he didn’t know which one of them needed more soothing because this whole situation was messing with his head and sending his thoughts in suspicious directions.
Could this burglary have anything to do with him?
Over the last two weeks, he’d spent a fair amount of time in Cassidy’s house, and he couldn’t forget that they’d left the hospital in her car. Was it possible the shooter had seen her license plate and eventually tracked him back here? Based on the shooter’s location and the angle of sight to where she’d picked him up, he didn’t think so. If he was wrong about that, the shooter could have mistakenly thought he was hiding out in Cassidy’s house. If the van was the one from before, had they been casing the place, looking for him?
Too many moving parts, too many missing pieces. No way would he stay here if he’d inadvertently put Cassidy in danger again. Unless he could satisfy himself that this was a straight-up burglary, he’d be outta there.
With his free hand, he tugged the phone from his back pocket, swiping to dial 911. “I want to report a burglary,” he said when the dispatcher answered.
Cassidy jerked her head up. “What are you doing? I thought you didn’t want to call the police.”
“It’s okay,” he said, taking in the concern in her eyes as he gave the dispatcher her address and his name as Alex Adessio. What he’d just set in motion would garner him a major ass-whooping from McMurray, but he didn’t care. Not where Cassidy’s safety was concerned.
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and cupped her face while he examined the blossoming red stain on her right cheek. The rage in his gut totally overshadowed the throbbing pain he’d inflicted on himself by chasing after that POS.
In the Middle East, marines had been bloodied, maimed, and killed all around him. It wasn’t that it hadn’t affected him—it had. But seeing Cassidy hurt and terrified twisted his insides in violent ways he’d never experienced before, and damn, his hands were shaking. From fear, he realized somewhere in the depths of his sanity. What he really wanted was to punch something, or at least ram his fist through the wall.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” The smooth skin on her forehead furrowed. “It’s not worth exposing yourself.” She sat up straighter, trying to wriggle out from his embrace but he wouldn’t let her. Didn’t want to let her out of his sight. “You and Ghost can still leave before the police get here.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Someday, he would. Just not today. The thought sent an unfamiliar pang to that big floppy thing inside his chest.
“It’s not worth it.” She shook her head. “You should go before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late,” he countered. “After the police take our statements, they’ll send a team out to dust for prints. Then they’ll ask us for fingerprint samples. I told the dispatcher my name was Alex Adessio, but my prints are on file as Markus York.”
“All the more reason for you to leave,” she insisted. “This isn’t worth risking your safety over. I’m nobody.”
He drew back, looking at her as if she’d lost her marbles. “You’re not nobody. You’re—” Unlabeled emotions flared in his head and in his heart, and for the first time in his life, it angered him beyond reason that he couldn’t find the words to describe all that she’d come to mean to him in such a short time. The right words would always elude him, but he was a man of action. There was something he could do.
Markus cupped her face with both hands, gliding his thumbs over her lips before doing something he’d wanted to earlier. He leaned in. And kissed her.
The moment his lips contacted hers, the urgent hunger threatening to punch a hole in his chest was stunning in its intensity. Her lips were as soft as he imagined they would be and when she sighed, parting them so he could delve his tongue inside, her taste was as sweet and pure as honey. One of nature’s miracles. He pulled her closer, until her nipples grazed his chest.
When she slid her arms to his back, digging her fingers into his skin, his heart took up a crazy staccato, pulsing loudly in his ears as one clear thought pinged in his brain.
He wanted her with a fierceness that was totally foreign to him. She might think her scars were ugly, but he didn’t. They were a sign of her courage, her determination, all things he admired.
The urgent hunger he’d been feeling erupted, and Markus angled the kiss, swiping his tongue deeper, wanting to breathe her very essence into his soul.
Ghost gave a gruff snort as the sound of sirens cut through the haze of desire and he pulled away. Cassidy’s head lay against his biceps, and she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. The tip of her tongue darted over her lower lip, wet from being thoroughly kissed.
“We’re about to have company.” Reluctance warred with relief as he helped her to stand then retrieved her cane from where it sat on the floor a few feet away. Reluctance because he wanted to go on kissing her for the rest of the night. Relief because cop-us interruptus was exactly what he needed.
He liked Cassidy. More than liked her, and if he didn’t throw ice water on whatever was heating up between them, he’d only fuck things up with her, the same way he’d fucked up every other relationship he’d had with a woman.
“I’ll let them in.” He shoved a hand through his hair, trying not to stare at her taut nipples pressing against the next-to-nothing top she wore. “You…might want to put something on over that.”
She glanced down. “Oh!” Around the blossoming bruise, her cheeks pinked and she started up the stairs.
Blue-and-red lights ricocheted off the trees across the street. Behind him, Cassidy’s cane thumped on the landing, and he watched as she turned left at the top of the stairs.
If something had happened to her today, I…He what?
In the span of a few days, he’d come to like and care for her more than most people he’d met in his entire life. That was saying something. And holy hell, that kiss. He’d wanted to savor and taste her sweet mouth for as long as it took to quench the emotions escalating inside him. The only thing that had stopped him was the sure-as-shit knowledge that he sucked at relationships. Women needed to talk about stuff—feelings and emotions, the very things he was incapable of expressing. Given how much she liked to talk, Cassidy would need that more than most.
Normally, knowing his limitations didn’t bother him and he just moved on. Today, it left him edgy, unsettled, and wishing he could be the kind of man a woman like Cassidy needed and deserved.
Facing facts was something he was good at, something that kept him grounded. The fact he had to face was that he could never be that man.