The sun’s yellow glow was just visible on the edge of the horizon where the mountains met the sky. Alexa traced the shadowed, rocky outline of the mountains with her eyes, watching as the band of gold around them grew slowly. She let her eyes wander up, the gold fading into a soft peach color, and then a delicate pink, and finally a seemingly endless stretch of lavender sky. The underbellies of the clouds glimmered a vibrant coral. Scrubby little bushes dotted the sides of the two-lane road.
Dawn in the desert.
Alexa shifted in the backseat of Morales’s car, watching the desert landscape as they headed north, away from Los Angeles. Away from her father, and the Golden Brotherhood. Away from the threats and the danger and what she’d done.
She hadn’t known what to do after the confrontation with her father yesterday, but Zack had insisted on leaving the after-party and had taken her right to Morales, who’d met them at her office after Zack had called her. He’d filled her in on what had happened, and she’d made several phone calls. The terms safe house, protective detail, and intelligence unit had filtered through the fog of Alexa’s mind. She realized now, in hindsight, that she’d been in shock. Despite everything she’d known about her father, a part of her still hadn’t expected him to come after them like that. Hadn’t even expected him to find out.
Sean had met them at the LAPD offices, two duffel bags in his hands, one for her and one for Zack, packed with clothes and toiletries. Alexa knew Sierra had packed her bag for her because she’d found the note inside. She’d started to cry, tracing her fingers over Sierra’s recognizable, loopy scrawl.
I love you. Be safe.
Ian had volunteered to come with them for extra security, and Morales had taken him up on the offer. He now sat silently in the front seat beside Morales.
Until everything with the Golden Brotherhood blew over, they had to disappear.
Alexa didn’t want to think of what it meant for her and Zack if things didn’t blow over. Would they have to go into some kind of witness protection program, starting over in a new city with new identities? Would they be allowed to stay together? What would she do with her life? What about Zack’s fighting career? What kind of future did they have? She didn’t want to spend her life looking over her shoulder.
After the four of them had made all the necessary arrangements, she, Zack, and Ian had piled into Morales’s car, not a police vehicle but her own, and she’d driven north into the desert, not taking the highway but small, deserted side roads. The safe house was in a city called Palmdale, about two hours away from Los Angeles. Two officers from what Morales had called “Special Ops” would meet them there and provide security.
Safe houses and security details. This was her life now.
Zack reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand. The swelling around his eye had gone down, but the skin had darkened to a nasty purplish black, and it looked even worse than it had yesterday.
Yesterday. Twelve hours ago his fight hadn’t even happened yet. God, had only a handful of hours passed? It felt like so much longer.
She felt as though she’d aged a year, at least, over the past few days.
Once, when she was a little girl, she’d imagined that life was measured in heartbeats. A person was given so many heartbeats at birth; some got more, some got less. But when they were gone, they were gone, and your time was up. If her childish theory was true, she’d spent a lot of her heartbeats over the past few days. She’d spent them being scared, worried, anxious, and upset. Wasted heartbeats. But she’d also spent them on Zack. At least those heartbeats had been worth it. She knew she should feel guilty about dragging him down with her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but happy and relieved that he was here with her.
Morales turned into the driveway of a completely normal-looking house on a quiet street. Light-beige stucco. Sage-colored garage door. Matching shutters framing the windows. Small front lawn with a cottonwood tree right in the middle. Morales pulled the car into the garage, and, bone weary, Alexa followed her into the house, Zack and Ian behind her. Morales pressed her phone to her ear, checking her messages as she did a sweep through the house, shutting curtains and checking the locks on all the doors. Zack set their bags down by the stairs.
The garage led into the kitchen, which, again, was completely normal. Light-gray tile floor. Oak cabinets. A table and four chairs by a set of sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. The kitchen opened onto a living area with a large sectional sofa, a small gas fireplace, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. Built-in bookshelves flanked the fireplace. Everything clean and tidy. It could’ve been any family’s home. And for who knew how long, it’d be hers.
“I know it’s been a long night, but we need to debrief and go through house protocol. Then you can crash,” said Morales, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We’ll do protocol first.” She looked at Alexa. “I’m sorry we took your phone away, but it’s a way for the Brotherhood to trace you, and bringing it here could compromise the location of the safe house. You have your burner?” she asked, and Alexa nodded. Sean had brought both her and Zack prepaid phones so that they’d have a way of communicating, if need be. “Good. You might’ve noticed that this looks just like a normal house, and that’s because it is. The main reason this location is secure and safe is because the Golden Brotherhood has no way of finding its location. That being said, we do have safety protocols in place.
“First, my car will always be in the garage, with the keys in the ignition, allowing for ease of access if we need to bolt on short notice. It will also always have a full tank of gas. If something happens and you need to use it, do it.
“Second, there will always be someone on watch duty. We’ll rotate shifts between the five of us—me, De Luca, MacAllister, and the two Special Ops officers arriving later today. Once everyone’s here, we’ll work up a schedule.”
“I can take first watch,” said Ian. “You lot need sleep. I’m relatively fresh, in comparison.”
Morales nodded. “Appreciate that. Third, the house is equipped with a security system, motion-detecting floodlights, and security cameras. These do not feed to a security company but to LAPD Special Ops.
“Lastly, the idea is to stay out of sight. The backyard has high fences and is private-ish, but avoid it if you see others outside. Especially you, Alexa. You’re a public figure and easily recognizable. Anything you need—clothing, medicine, toiletries, whatever—one of the Special Ops guys can do a run.”
Alexa slumped back into the sectional, struggling against the waves of exhaustion pulling at her. “I understand. I guess you have no idea how long we’ll be here, right?”
“I can’t make any promises, but I do have some new information that makes me hopeful it won’t be long. The bugs you planted worked exactly the way we wanted them to, and I know the FBI are getting ready to move in. They don’t have enough on your father yet, but they do have enough—in conjunction with other investigations they’ve been running—to start making some arrests. The other piece of news is that, thanks to you, Crosby is safe.”
Relief flickered through Alexa, along with a sense of pride that she’d helped to save someone’s life. “Who is he?”
“A journalist investigating the Golden Brotherhood. We found him before they did, and he’s in protective custody now.”
Alexa nodded, too tired to do anything else. “Good. I’m glad.”
“Which leads me to an another point. Alexa, when the time comes, you’ll have to testify against your father.”
She sighed and then nodded. “I know. Honestly, I don’t really have anything to lose at this point. If I can help, I will.” It didn’t matter that he was her father; she knew him for exactly who he was now, and her guilt was gone. He was a corrupt, power-hungry, violent man, and even though he’d given her life and raised her, he wasn’t her father in any real sense of the word. He never had been, if she was honest with herself.
“Good. You’re a key witness, and any testimony you give will only help the case when we get there.” Morales pushed to her feet. “Any questions? No? Let’s assign bedrooms and crash, then.”
Without a word Zack picked up their bags, and they followed Morales up the stairs.
Home sweet home.
* * *
“There are five bedrooms. One of the bedrooms has two single beds, so we should have enough that no one’s sleeping on the couch,” said Morales.
Zack adjusted his grip on the bags in his hands. “We’ll only need four rooms,” he said, and Alexa and Morales both turned to look at him. “Alexa and I will be sharing.”
“You’ll be…Oh. Right.” Morales arched an eyebrow, studying them for a second. “I…heard. Well, take the master, then. It has an attached bath.” She pointed at the first room on the left and gave them a once-over again but didn’t say anything. “I’ll be down the hall. Get some sleep.”
Zack couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired. He felt worn down and was running on empty. But one look at Alexa and all he wanted to do was take care of her. His own shit—the exhaustion, the pain in his face and ribs, the fear and the anger—didn’t matter.
He opened the door to their room and ushered her inside, closing it behind him. A queen-size bed sat in the center of the room, a nightstand on either side. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a dresser facing the bed and a freestanding mirror in the corner.
Alexa sank down onto the bed. She was pale, dark circles coloring the skin beneath her eyes. Zack stepped into the adjoining bathroom, which had both a glassed-in shower stall and a jetted tub nestled under the window.
The first bed that he’d ever share with Alexa was in a safe house. Not exactly the most romantic setting, but it didn’t matter. She was safe, and he was here with her. Everything else was details.
He pulled open the shower door and turned on the water, running it until it was warm but not hot. He stepped back into the bedroom and found Alexa exactly where he’d left her, still staring at her lap. With gentle pressure on her elbows, he urged her to stand and started undressing her.
“Zack, I don’t think…Right now…” She shook her head even as she raised her arms above her head and let him pull her dress up and away.
He trailed his hands down her arms and unhooked her bra. It slipped down, and he kissed her forehead, smiling against the sweetness of her skin. “I know. I’m too tired too. Let’s have a shower and go to bed. Okay?”
She smiled, a real smile, and he returned it. This, right here, was exactly where he was supposed to be. With Alexa. Making her smile, taking care of her.
She bent to take her shoes off, and he undid the buttons on his shirt, then tossed it to the floor, toed off his shoes, and shucked his jeans and boxer briefs. He watched Alexa’s cute naked butt as she padded into the bathroom.
“I found towels,” she called, and poked her head back into the bedroom. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, her eyes doing a slow caress up and down his body. She stepped back into the bedroom and grabbed shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and one of those girly sponge things from her bag, and this time he followed her into the bathroom.
She opened the shower stall’s door and stuck her hand in, testing the water before stepping inside. He followed her in, the door snapping shut behind him. He pulled her into his arms and nestled her against him, kissing the top of her head as warm water pattered against them. He didn’t ask if she was okay, because he knew she wasn’t. He didn’t ask how she was feeling, because he knew she was too tired and overwhelmed and wrung out to even know. He didn’t do anything except hold her, wishing he could shoulder it all for her. Wishing he could kiss it better, and knowing he couldn’t.
But he could comfort her. He could take care of her. He could protect her. So he would.
God, he would, until his heart stopped beating, he would.
“I love you,” she said, her voice echoing softly off the tiles. She pressed a kiss right over his heart, and it thumped against her lips in response. “I love you, and I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess.” He kissed her, gently and slowly. “I love you too. We’ll get through this.” He eased her away from him and scooped up the shampoo bottle she’d set down in the corner. “Turn around.”
She turned and raised her face to the spray, letting the water wash over her. When her hair was wet, he squeezed a small amount of the shampoo into his palm. The smell of coconuts filled the air, and he smiled. The first time he’d ever held her, when they’d danced at Sean and Sierra’s engagement party, her hair had smelled like coconuts.
He rubbed his hands together, slicking the shampoo over his palms and fingers, and then started massaging her scalp, working his fingers in slow circles.
She let out a soft, sighing moan. “Oh God, that feels good.”
He smiled and worked the shampoo through her hair, massaging her scalp for several minutes. He turned her around, rinsed the shampoo out, and repeated the massage with conditioner.
“You have the best hands,” she said, her eyes closed, her shoulders relaxed, and a sense of possessive satisfaction took root in his chest.
“They’re yours,” he said, a thickness filling his throat. Everything he had was hers.
She reached behind her and circled her fingers around his wrists, guiding his hands down her body, over her breasts, stopping when his hand was over her heart. “Yours,” she said, echoing him.
His blood hummed in his veins. Happiness and possession and the need to keep her safe all sang through him. He rinsed the conditioner from her hair and then squirted a bit of her body wash onto the purple puff. It lathered up quickly, and he worked the puff over her skin in gentle circles, watching the soap and water slide over her skin, over the curve of her neck, the delicate slope of her shoulders, the straight line of her spine. Her full breasts with those pink nipples. The flare of her hips, the roundness of her ass.
She was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. So beautiful and sweet and strong.
Unable to help himself and grateful he no longer had to fight what he wanted, he pulled her against him and kissed her, trying to pour everything he was feeling into the kiss. “I know it’s fast and things are crazy, but I’m so all in with you, princess.”
She cupped his cheek. “Me too. God, Zack, me too.” With a contented sigh, she rinsed the soap from her body and took the puff from him, then washed him in turn, her touch so sweet, so gentle. She frowned slightly as she worked the soap over the bruise on his right side where he’d taken that kick. “I’m so proud of you, for the way you fought yesterday, but it’s hard to see you hurt.”
He laid his hand over hers, holding it over the large bruise. “I’m okay.”
She nodded and started moving her hand again, trailing more soap across his skin, washing him as thoroughly as he’d washed her. She yawned, and he rinsed off quickly and then shut off the shower. He grabbed the towels she’d laid out and passed one to her, and they dried off in sleepy, contented silence. But she seemed a little less tense, a little less sad, than when they’d first stepped into the safe house.
As soon as she was dry, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, then pulled back the covers with one hand. He laid her down and climbed in beside her, the sheets cool against his skin.
She snuggled into his arms, her eyes already closed. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she whispered, and he stroked a hand up and down her back. She smelled like coconuts and home.
“There’s nowhere else I’d be, princess. I belong with you.”
She murmured the word belong and then fell asleep in his arms.