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  Scarlett thought of Lucas and how she looked forward to seeing him every week. She sat on the bed next to Emery and took her hands in her own. "Look, I know you want to date, and it's hard with your schedule. Plus, you've had to grow up a lot quicker than most. But it's not safe to meet a strange guy by yourself. Promise me you'll be careful."

  "I'll be careful. I promise. I won't meet him until you do."

  "I'd prefer that you not see him at all." Em started to protest, but Scarlett put her hand up to stop her. "Just don't keep it from me, ok?"

  "Ok." Em leaned her head against Scarlett's shoulder, and Scarlett's arms looped around her, squeezing her tightly.

  "You smell like fried food and grease," Em said, crinkling her nose.

  "Thanks, Em. I appreciate that." Scarlett shoved Em's shoulder and then pulled her in for one last embrace. "I'm off to get a shower. Get some sleep."

  She stepped into the one bathroom in their apartment, pulling off her clothes, and turned on the steaming shower. As she surrounded herself with the hot spray, she thought back to the melting smile from Lucas Falco. Maybe she would give him her number.

  * * * *

  Lucas walked the four blocks back to the Castle Investigations building, Scarlett and her red hair and gut-punching blush still fresh in his mind. He wondered why a girl as beautiful as Scarlett chose to work on this side of town. Tonight was the first time he'd dug deeper than the surface. It seemed they had some things in common. Both had lost their parents at a young age. He could tell Scarlett was a hard worker and knew she kept a day job as well. He'd have Zach do some digging and figure out what her story was. She didn't look like the typical girl from the streets.

  A creature of habit—ten years in the Air Force would do that to you—Lucas ate dinner at the same time every evening if he wasn't on a job. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he always ate at the diner where Scarlett worked. It had started as a way to torture himself for his screw-ups. For failing Laura—going to their place twice a week. But it had turned into a fascination with a cute redhead who was always a willing participant in their verbal sparring. He loved making her blush. She'd make a terrible poker player—every emotion was colored across her freckled cheeks.

  Sullivan Castle, his friend and boss of Castle Investigations, had hired Lucas right out of the Air Force. The security firm was successful in part because they still had friends in low places. Knowing the neighborhood and being located just inside, set them apart from the other high-class security firms in D.C. They still got their share of high-powered CEOs and Congressmen, but it was based solely on the reputation of the firm and not their location.

  The old warehouse building Sullivan had found a few years earlier was perfect for their clandestine operations. Graffiti graced most of the outer walls, and all the metal trim, as well as the old fire escape, was rusted. The windows had bars on them, and the wide, barn-like doors looked deceivingly flimsy. However, the inside was state-of-the-art, with top security.

  Lucas pushed through the industrial doors, walking into the lobby area where they had two armed guards on duty at all times.

  "Hi Frank. Hi Joe," Lucas said as he made his way over to the hydraulic, sliding glass doors that gained him entry into the rest of the warehouse. The guards just nodded. Well, they weren't paid for their personalities. Dressed in all black, with guns draped all over them, they were an intimidating sight.

  Placing his hand on the scanner, he waited for the beep and green light as the doors opened automatically to give him entry. Stepping inside, he looked at the vast expanse of space that stretched in front of him.

  The warehouse was made up of three floors. The first floor housed their operations. An electric fireplace surrounded by plush leather couches provided an inviting place to interview first-time clients. Beyond the makeshift living room, mats used for hand-to-hand combat practice circled a boxing ring where their sparring and mixed martial arts skills were honed. A soundproof glass wall separated the room from the firing range that took up the rest of the space. Everything they needed to do their jobs was right here.

  Lucas walked across the room to the elevator to go up to the third floor, where the team's living quarters were located. The elevator doors opened into a large living room equipped with a large flat screen TV and couches identical to the ones downstairs. Since the team worked around the clock, it made sense for them to live in the building.

  Making his way through the high-tech kitchen, he retrieved a beer from the industrial-sized fridge. Popping the top off, he took a long pull and set it down on the bar, where Sullivan Castle sat eating cereal out of a bowl and poring over a file.

  "Cereal, the dinner of champions," Lucas joked.

  A grunt was the only reply Sullivan gave.

  "Whatcha got there?"

  "New case," Sullivan said.

  "Oh yeah?"

  "I need you to take the helo to Warrenton to meet with the guy."

  "Any details about the case, or do I have to play twenty questions to get the information out of you?"

  Sullivan gave Lucas a stern look. "He's a high-level executive here in the city and has been receiving threats. He's worried about his wife and two teenage daughters."

  "You thinking a protection detail case?"

  "Yeah, and I'm sending Zach with you, so he can look at the residence and see what's needed in terms of a security system."

  "Any idea who's making the threats?"

  "No, says he doesn't have any enemies."

  Lucas snorted. "They all have enemies."

  "Right. I'll have Isabel look at the letters and maybe get a profile on what kind of threat we're looking at."

  "Sounds good. Once we do that, we should have a better idea of what kind of team we'll need."

  "Exactly."

  "Anything else?"

  Sullivan's only reply was a quick jerk of his head. Ok, then.

  Sullivan slapped the file against Lucas’s gut, and Lucas grunted.

  "Thanks. I'll give this a once-over tonight, before I hit the sack." Lucas downed the rest of his beer and made his way back to his room.

  There were six bedrooms, each containing a personal bathroom equipped with a shower, sink, and toilet. Lucas stopped in the hall to see if he could hear any of the guys bustling in their rooms.

  Looked like the rest of the guys were out or asleep. He knocked on Isabel's door, hoping to chat with her about Scarlett. Maybe she'd have an idea about how to get her to give up her number, since she was a girl.

  After no answer, he walked down a couple of doors to his room and went inside. He plopped down on his bed and skimmed over the folder. Basically, your stereotypical rich guy with a philanthropist wife and two spoiled teenage girls. Should be a walk in the park. Security detail and system, and maybe a few helo flights to meetings in other cities. Easy enough.

  He closed the folder and lay back on the pillow, arms behind his head. He flipped on the TV to settle his mind as he tried to fall asleep. The sitcom that came to life featured a redhead, and his thoughts went back to his redhead at the small diner he frequented twice a week.

  He thought back to the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She’d been dealing with a frustrating customer. Her cheeks were red from anger, her hair slightly damp at the nape of her neck from running around the busy restaurant. Her hands were on her hips, but he could tell she was watching her words carefully. She picked up the plate, none too gently, and turned to take it back to the kitchen. She hadn't realized he was standing there and had nearly run him over. He’d grabbed both her upper arms.

  "Whoa, there. Careful."

  Her eyes went wide, and her hand went up to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, gosh. I'm sorry. So sorry."

  He grinned, knowing what his smile did to the ladies. Her cheeks blushed even redder, and it was at that moment that he knew he was a goner. That flood of color in her cheeks revealed every emotion, and he wanted to see what other emotions he could put on her face. She had a smattering of freckles across th
e bridge of her nose and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. He wanted to kiss each freckle as he got lost in her emerald eyes.

  He shook his head. He needed to get a life. Or a date. Preferably with the short-tempered redhead at the diner up the street.

  Chapter 3

  Thursday night seemed to take forever to get there. Emery felt a little guilty that she hadn't told Scarlett that Damon was coming by tonight to meet her and take Emery out with his friends. But she figured that once Scarlett met Damon, she'd relax a little. What could it hurt?

  Emery made her way to the single bathroom the girls shared in this dump of an apartment. At least they had a decent shower. Washing off the sweat and grime from another grueling practice, she closed her eyes, thinking about what she should wear that night. She remembered that she and her sister were supposed to watch Netflix tonight and eat popcorn, yet another luxury they seldom had. She hoped her sister wouldn't be too disappointed.

  Stepping out of the shower, she remembered they were out of popcorn, so she fired off a text to her sister. She should be on her way home and could stop by the store.

  She decided on skinny jeans, black stilettos, and a slinky black chiffon shirt that she had to wear a camisole under in order to conceal her bra. Her fake leather jacket would round out the outfit. She blow-dried her hair into long, thick waves and looked at herself in the mirror. She was shocked that she looked so much older. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back. Her green eyes, just like her sister's, sparkled under the smoky eye she’d created. If only she could get rid of those freckles. She and her sister had the same pale skin with the ruthless dots spread across the bridge of their noses. Scarlett got the red hair, though. Em had always been envious of the color.

  "Not bad," she muttered to herself. She picked up her clutch and started towards the living room when she heard a knock at the door. Butterflies filled her stomach, and she glanced at the clock over the microwave. It was five minutes after seven. Scarlett should be home by now.

  Her nerves kicked up a notch when she realized that Damon must be here, and Scarlett wasn't. She didn't want to leave with him until Scarlett gave her the ok, but she also didn't want a boy in the house when Scarlett wasn't home, either.

  Doubt entered her mind as she pondered what to do. Should she open the door?

  Another knock sounded. "Hey, Emery! It's Damon. You home?"

  She decided to pull the door open just a little and ask him to wait in the car until Scarlett got home.

  She looked through the peephole, seeing Damon's gorgeous face. He was a little older than he looked in his pictures, though. Actually, maybe seven or eight years older than he looked in his photos.

  Unease curled around Emery's spine as she realized she didn't know this man at all. And he was exactly that. A full-grown man. She backed away from the door as quietly as she could.

  "Em, I saw your shadow. I know you're there. Open up."

  "I can't right now. Scarlett's not home. Come back later," she said, suddenly scared of this man that she'd been chatting with online. She’d been so stupid to give him her address. Scarlett was going to kill her.

  A loud banging on the door jerked her attention up. She crept back over to the door and saw an angry Damon standing there with his hand lifted to hit the door once again. Suddenly, his gaze peered through the peephole, almost as if he could see her—knew she was watching him—and he smiled. It wasn't a smile that met his eyes. It was a sick smile. A twisted one.

  Backing away from the door, Emery reached for her phone from her back pocket. She quickly hit speed dial to call her sister.

  "Pick up, pick up, pick up!" she cried quietly.

  "I can hear you, Emery. I can feel you there. Open the damn door."

  Emery backed away into her room, scared to be close to this volatile man. A loud crack shattered the silence in the room. Another crack, and she could see the door splintering just like they did in the movies. Running, she went to her bedroom and locked her door. She ran into the shared bathroom and shut the door, wishing it had a lock on it as well. She climbed into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed, trying to silence the loudness of her breathing.

  "Emery? Come on, now. You know me. Don't play hard to get."

  Looking down at her hand, she remembered that she had called Scarlett's phone and realized it must be on voicemail. She should call again. She whispered into the phone, "Scarlett? It's Em. Someone's in the house. I didn't know, Scarlett. I didn't realize he would come after me. Please call me back."

  She pressed end and dialed again. She heard him pounding on the door in the bedroom. A crack rang out as the bedroom door gave under his beating, and she knew he was drawing closer.

  Come on, come on, Scarlett. Pick up! She heard Scarlett's voice telling her to leave a message, and she prayed that it wouldn't be the last time she heard it.

  Emery listened as the door squeaked open and his footsteps started across the floor. They stopped right before he reached the tub. Shivering, silently crying, she prayed that he would just go and leave her alone. She heard his footsteps start away, and she let out a tiny exhale of breath.

  The shower curtain fell violently from its rod, plastic curtain hangers raining down on top of her. She screamed and looked up into the cold eyes of Damon Smith.

  "Well hello, Emery. Is this all for me?" he asked, looking her over from head to toe. The look was predatory, as if he couldn't wait to devour her. That's when she noticed the two guys behind him. She looked from one to the other, both big, both with cold eyes. The eyes of men who had killed.

  "Damon Smith, why are you doing this? Who—who are they?" she finally croaked out, saying his full name in case Scarlett's voicemail picked up in time and recorded her words.

  "Take her," Damon commanded. The two guys brushed past him, picking her up by her arms. She kicked and screamed and fought as hard as she could. She bucked against the guy who had her back against him, struggling to free herself. If she could just get away, she could outrun them. Bottles of makeup scattered across the counter, breaking as they hit the sink—her arms flailing and legs kicking, trying to get the upper hand. She rammed her elbow back into the thug's gut, and he momentarily released her. Ramming her foot down on his instep, she struggled free, grabbing a can of hairspray off the counter and aiming it at the other guy. The spray hit him in the eyes. He shrieked, covering them with his hands and stumbling towards the bedroom. She ran.

  She rushed into the living room, headed towards the front door, and froze. In her fight for her life, she had failed to realize that Damon had left. He was propped up by the door, casually standing there as if he hadn't a care in the world.

  "You know, I was severely disappointed that your sister wasn't here. I promised my buyer two, not one. But you'll have to do for now."

  "You leave my sister alone, you creep!" she screamed.

  He nodded at the guy behind her. She turned to see what was happening when her arm was jerked behind her, spinning her around towards the thug she'd elbowed earlier. She noticed the other one behind him, still stumbling around, holding his eyes. A prick in her arm drew her attention back to the brute in front of her.

  "What?" Her vision grew blurry, and her head felt heavy. She saw the ground rushing towards her, and then everything went black.

  * * * *

  Scarlett grinned at the text in her hand. Em was so funny, reminding her as if she were the adult, and Scarlett were the child. She was sad that Em had had to grow up so quickly. It was tough being a teenage girl without a mom or dad.

  "I'd give anything to have you smile at me that way," the smooth voice of Lucas Falco breathed in her ear.

  She jerked upright, unaware that he had walked up so close.

  She gave him a flirty smile, exaggerating her words as she said, "Well, Lucas. Imagine seeing you here on a Thursday night." She looked way up into his warm brown eyes. He was grinning down at her, and a lock of his dark hair fell over his forehead, refusing to stay in place. I
t was extremely difficult to keep her hands from reaching up and pushing it back in place. She wondered what his hair would feel like. Would it be as silky as it looked?

  "Earth to Scarlett." Lucas's hands waved in front of her face.

  "Huh? Oh, sorry." Scarlett dropped her phone back into her apron pocket, switching the sound to silent, and smoothed both palms over it.

  "Where'd you go there for a second?" Lucas asked.

  "Nowhere. Need a booth?"

  "I'll just sit in my usual spot."

  "So you can harass me all night?"

  "I'd like to harass you more than just tonight." Lucas's voice dropped low and sexy, and Scarlett shivered at his intentions.

  And then he acted as if he hadn't said anything remotely suggestive and sat down at his table. "I'll have the usual."

  Scarlett was momentarily stunned and stood with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

  "Um, Scarlett? The usual?" Lucas said. Her mouth closed with an audible pop, and she hurried back to the kitchen. His laughter followed her the whole way.

  Maggie, her friend and coworker with her fun, pink hair, laughed when she saw Scarlett's face. "I don't know why you don't just give it up, Scarlett. The guy is a dream."

  "Well, I'm not looking for a one-night stand, and I’m not looking for forever, either. I don't have time for any of that."

  "You could just give him a chance. The man is gorgeous, and I hear he's a pilot."

  Scarlett stopped her fumbling with the sweet tea she knew Lucas would want and looked at Maggie in stunned silence.

  "Wait. How do you know he's a pilot?"

  "Well, I asked him one day when he came in here looking for you. He didn't realize it was your day off. I believe that was a Wednesday. Anyway, I figured I might as well glean a little information from him—make sure he's legit."

  "So, did you give him the Spanish Inquisition?" Scarlett dropped her head into her hands.

  Maggie grabbed the sweet tea and said, "Maybe a little. Now I'll just drop this off to his table so you can get ahold of yourself. And you might want to look at your hair—it's kind of a mess."