Taking Cover
Page 13

A dimly lit parking lot.
An image of Kathleen, vulnerable as she walked to her car, exploded within him. She might be smart as hell and capable beyond reason, but so was his sister. None of that had mattered to a man twice her size with a gun.
Regardless of how much Kathleen infuriated him, she was his partner. His wingman.
And he'd let her leave. Alone.
"Damn." Tanner sprinted for the door.
"Damn." Kathleen thumbed the unlock button on her key chain for the third time and it didn't open the car. "Damn. Damn. Damn him!"
Slumping against the silver Ford Taurus, she sucked in calming air. The chilly desert night did little to help cool the hot swirl of emotions.
She wanted to scream. She needed to cry. But she wouldn't do either because of a man ever again.
How would she get through the next day, much less weeks working with Tanner? God, she wished she could have that neutral ground back.
Staring up at the twinkling sky, Kathleen blinked away frustrated tears that blurred the stars until any wishing became impossible. The key weighted down her hand. Even her shoes seemed ten pounds heavier. Sighing, she palmed the door unlock button again and shoved away from her car.
Only to see another just like it.
Scanning the willy-nilly parked cars, Kathleen counted five silver Ford Tauruses in the lot, apparently the military rental car of choice.
Her shoes lost ten pounds with her laugh.
She finally spotted her car among the others parked in a haphazard cluster. As she walked, a coyote howled in the distance.
A shiver rippled through her. From nerves, the chili or just plain anger, she didn't know. She stole one last look at the stars, overly bright without the smear of smog diluting their brightness. Their intensity granted her peace if not wishes.
Wishing on a star was superstitious, anyway.
She shook free thoughts of superstitions before Tanner charged back into her mind.
Finally the key chain worked as advertised, activating interior lights as her car doors unlocked. She refused to feel guilty over leaving Tanner at the bar. He'd found his way there. He could find his way home. She reached for the door handle.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
Her fingers convulsed around her keys. Fear burned over her for three interminable seconds.
Then instincts brought chilling numbness. Training assumed command of her brain.
Kathleen rammed her heel on the foot behind her. Her elbow pumped back into a rock-solid stomach. A gratifying swoosh of air huffed over her just before a burly arm banded around her stomach.
She forced down panic. Think.
The keys. Set off the car alarm.
She juggled the keys in her hand, grappling for the right button. Sweat slicked her palm. The keys jangled to the ground.
Fear rolled over her in earnest. Use it. Channel it. Go for the groin.
A hand vise-gripped her wrist.
"Kathleen."
The masculine voice dimly pierced her narrow focus.
"Kathleen! It's me. Tanner. Stop before you turn me into a gelding."
Tanner.
She sagged against his arm. His corded muscles relaxed. Fear had skewed her senses until she hadn't even considered it could be him. Tanner. Who'd taken too damn long in announcing himself.
Kathleen spun around and found him directly behind her. His face was dimly distinguishable in the poorly lit parking lot, but no doubt about it. With the aid of a harvest moon, she could see him well enough. She should have known when she'd leaned back against him, except she'd been too damned scared to death.
She wanted to gut punch him, but hesitated at the last second because of his back. If he ended up in the infirmary, he would get pain medication.
He didn't deserve it. The jerk should hurt for scaring her.
"Tanner."
"What?"
"This." She grabbed his pinky and bent it back. She'd taken men to their knees with the move at survival camp and considered the option now.
"What the—" He stumbled a step but stayed on his feet. "Geez, Kathleen! That hurts."
"Good!" She flung aside his hand. "You scared the hell out of me! Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone like that?"
His brows slammed down into a foreboding scowl. "Don't you know better than to walk through a dark parking lot alone? You didn't even check inside the car before you reached to open it."
"So you were teaching me a lesson?" Her voice rose as postadrenaline shakes set in. "Protecting me? Well, I'm not interested in participating in your testosterone tango tonight."
"This has nothing to do with testosterone, lady, and everything to with common-sense safety. What would you have done if it hadn't been me?"
"Broken your nose. Poked your eyes out." Shards of fear still scratched at her insides, not that she would admit it to Tanner. "Gelded you."
"Maybe. If you were lucky. But maybe not. Why take that chance? I outweigh you by over a hundred pounds."
"So size matters after all?" Kathleen suppressed a wince as her mouth ran away with her yet again. Damn but she was tired of being a victim to her emotions around this man.
The normally lighthearted Tanner didn't even crack a smile. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."
"I'm just playing by your rules."
"You don't get it, do you? You were so zeroed in on your anger at me, you didn't think about blasting out here alone. You forgot the most basic Air Force rule. Never, never leave your wingman." His head tipped back, displaying an unrestrained view of his flexing jaw. His throat moved with a long swallow before he looked down at her again. "Answer one question. Why didn't you shout?"
"What?" Confusion muddied her anger. "Shout? Back at the bar? I tried to keep our argument low-key for the sake of the investigation."
"No. When I caught you around the waist. Or even earlier when I put my hand on your shoulder. Why didn't you scream for help?"
"Oh. Because … I was just…" She scrambled for a reason … and came up blank. She didn't know why. For once she had no quick comeback for Tanner, and she didn't like the uneven footing.
Time to retreat and regroup. Kathleen scooped her keys from the gravel. "Forget it. I refuse to fight with you tonight."
His arm shot forward, blocking the driver's door. "I didn't put my hand over your mouth, something a mugger wouldn't be so generous about. You never made a sound. Just dug your heels in—granted you dug them into my boot—and fought the battle by yourself when help could have been three cars down. Why?"
The intensity of his eyes held her with a power that frightened her, stirred her, immobilized her in a way that had nothing to do with Tanner's size. "Let me go, and we'll talk more in the morning when we're both calmer."
"We'll talk about it now." His other palm pressed against the car as he bracketed her with his arms. "One in every four rapes takes place in a public area or in a parking garage."
His sister. Kathleen sagged against the quarter panel.
How could she have forgotten his sister had died in a carjacking attack? That explained his overreaction, made it forgivable.
Kathleen's anger dissipated like rain on a thirsty desert floor. "Tanner, I'm—"
"Sixty-eight percent of rapes occur between six at night and six in the morning." His voice deepened, every word faster, heavier. "Seventy-five percent of female rape victims require medical care after the attack." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the bar. "At least forty-five percent of rapists are under the influence of alcohol or drugs."
"Tanner!" She looked into his eyes, silver-flecked sapphire eyes glinting with tears. Still as full of pain as they'd been twelve years ago. All the defenses she'd built against him fell away, leaving her way too vulnerable to a man she already had trouble resisting. "Tanner, please—"
"Every two minutes in America a woman is sexually assaulted. Over three hundred thousand women a year." Tanner's forehead fell to rest against hers, his breathing bursts of ragged emotion. "I won't let another woman—you—be a statistic, damn it! I won't."
His hoarse vow sliced through Kathleen. The healer within her couldn't resist this wounded man any more now than that night in the Academy barracks. No matter how she tried to tell herself she would ache for anyone in so much pain, she knew otherwise. Tanner had a way of stirring her emotions that no one had ever matched.
She couldn't turn away from those glistening eyes.
Kathleen cupped his face in her palms and once again silenced him with her lips.
Chapter 8
The roar inside his head quieted. And just like twelve years ago, Tanner welcomed the forgetfulness offered in Kathleen's kiss. Except this time the roar had been brought on by her, the fear of her being the one trapped, hurt. Dead.
He cupped the back of her head. Anchored her to him. Anchored himself in the moment with her intoxicating heat.
His fingers stroked through her hair while his tongue stroked through her mouth. Minty shampoo tempted him outside, the sweet flavor of lemon and Kathleen inside. He tasted, drank the sweet assurance that she was alive.
Man, was she alive.
Her arms looped around his neck, and she kissed him back. Really kissed him. No question about whether she wanted this or not.
His gut-twisting fear for her eased, leaving in its place a raw hunger for Kathleen, one that he'd shoved aside for far too long. He didn't stand a chance of battling it now, not when she tangled her tongue with his. Nipped his bottom lip. Lightly moaned into his mouth.
Her toned body pressed against his—as closely as she could, given their height difference. Impatient to feel all of her all over him, Tanner cupped her bottom and lifted.
Warm leather and softness filled his hands. Groaning, he pulled her closer. Her legs locked around his waist.
Did this woman have to be so damned perfect? He lowered her to sit on the hood of the car. Gently, carefully. He couldn't forget how small she was.
Not that she seemed concerned.
Kathleen tightened her legs, strong and taut around him, and she nudged closer, closer still until she fit. Who'd have thought leather could become that hot without melting?
Her breasts, small, firm, perfect, pressed to him, beaded against him in an unmistakable invitation. No way could she miss his throbbing reaction to her, either. And still she didn't pull away.
With surprising strength and purpose, her fingers gripped his shoulders, arms, face. His hands trembled with the effort to keep his touch gentle, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.
He'd wanted her for so long, had endured more dreams about this woman than he could count, and here she was. Hotter, better, sweeter than any dream.
And she was in his arms. His. He smoothed his hands over her hair as if he could brush away the image of another guy's hands on her.
A car roared past, honking. "Hey, you two!" a man shouted out the window. "Get a room!"
Tanner mumbled his frustration through kisses along her jaw. However, the driver of the car had an excellent point. Once he got Kathleen all to himself…
"Stop, Tanner." She gasped against his cheek, but the words came between her kisses, which didn't show signs of slowing. "We've got to stop."
Kathleen's trembling voice whispered past his increasing need to take her. Now. In a bar parking lot.
Reason edged a bit further into his consciousness, and Tanner reluctantly tore his mouth away. Her neck made a logical resting place for his face while he regained control. Of course breathing the scent of undiluted Kathleen offered almost as much satisfaction as tasting her.
His late-day beard snagged against her satin. Skin or her shirt? Both so soft, how could he tell?
But this wasn't the place.
He peeled his body from hers, allowing himself to touch her only by cupping her shoulders. She looked in need of the support. Her eyes cloudy, she swayed under his hands. Massaging the satin over her skin, Tanner promised himself the pleasure of gliding that shirt off her body later. Then those leather pants that had been torturing him all evening.