“You okay?” Erik asked.
“No.” Jeremy blew out a sigh. “I heard they’re thinking of pulling us off,” he said, referring to Logan & Locke.
“I heard that, too.”
“That’s a bad plan.”
“Yeah, well, the trial’s been postponed indefinitely. The defendant’s in the hospital.”
“It’s not just about the trial,” Jeremy said. “That law clerk was killed because of something she saw or knew. She wasn’t involved in the trial, except tangentially. The same thing could happen to Kira.”
Erik nodded. “You should take it up with Liam.”
“I will.”
“But the law firm’s paying the bills. Not much you can do if they’ve pulled the plug.”
Jeremy’s gut clenched at the thought. Even if the trial never happened, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Kira might be in more danger than ever.
He glanced at Erik, who was watching him with a wary look in his eyes. He knew where Jeremy’s head was. And Jeremy didn’t care. He didn’t care about much of anything right now except seeing this thing through.
Which meant that—job or no job—he wasn’t going anywhere until the threat they were dealing with had been eliminated.
“I’m going up,” Jeremy said.
“Let me know how it goes with Liam. And let me know if I can help.”
“I will.”
Jeremy made his way to the elevator but then decided to take the stairs, hoping to work off some of his frustration on the four flights up. He didn’t like that Trent had taken Kira to the fitness center. He didn’t like that she’d acted so blasé about it. And he didn’t like that he’d had this clench in his gut ever since those screams rang out in the lobby, and he’d realized they had an active shooter situation, and Kira was right in the fucking middle of it.
Jeremy didn’t get emotional about work. At least, he never had before. He had nerves of steel and laser-sharp focus, and both of those traits had served him well throughout his career.
So what was happening now? And why did he feel so ticked off all the time? Jeremy had known from the beginning that he wasn’t in shape for this job. He didn’t have his head on straight, and it was affecting his concentration.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. He hadn’t wanted this assignment in the first place. He’d flat-out rejected it, then relented and signed on, purely out of a sense of duty. But now the thought of walking away from this job made him livid with anger. He wouldn’t do it. He refused. One way or another, he planned to see this thing through. The threat to Kira was still out there, and until it was gone, Jeremy wasn’t leaving.
He reached the fourth floor and exited the stairwell. He shed his suit jacket as he walked down the corridor, then turned the corner to the hallway where Logan & Locke had booked every single suite. Joel sat in a chair in the hallway, stationed between Brock’s suite and Neil’s.
“Where’s Brock?” Jeremy asked him.
“He and some of the lawyers are working.”
“Is Kira in there?”
“She was.” Joel nodded toward her door. “She went back to her room. Think she’s in the shower. Trent’s in the control room. Said he’s almost done for the night.” Joel checked his watch. “You on now?”
“I am.”
Jeremy took out his key card and let himself into Kira’s suite. She wasn’t in the living room, and her bedroom door stood ajar.
He walked over and tapped on the door with his knuckles. No answer. He leaned his head into the room, which was warm and steamy, as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. One of the beds still had a big black suitcase on it, and Kira’s clothes were strewn everywhere, but she wasn’t there.
The curtain shifted, and she stepped in from the balcony. She wore the same white robe as last night, and Jeremy’s heart gave a kick. Her long hair was wet and freshly combed.
“That was Brock,” she said, putting her phone on the dresser. “He just got word from the hospital. Gavin’s still in ICU.”
“I know.”
She turned to face him and crossed her arms. “So what’s with the attitude?”
Jeremy stepped closer, looking her over. Her cheeks were pink, either from her workout or her shower or both.
“What attitude?”
“You’re being an ass.”
“I am?”
“You’re mad that Trent took me to the fitness center. It was my idea, not his, so get off his case about it.”
He stared down at her. Temper flashed in her eyes, and Jeremy’s pulse picked up. His gaze dropped to the belt of her robe.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She stepped back.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t even think about pulling that crap again.”
He stepped closer.
“I mean it. You lay a hand on me, and that’s it. No takebacks.”
He gazed down at her. She meant it. He could see it in her eyes—her frustration, her anger, her wounded pride over last night. It was all right there, on full display.
“I mean it, Jeremy.”
“I know.”
Kira watched as he turned and walked to the door, and the pain was sharp. It was like he’d landed an arrow smack in the center of her chest, and fury filled her all over again. Not fury at him but at herself, because she’d misread him again and somehow gotten her hopes up.
He reached for the door. She heard a soft click, and he turned around.
He held her gaze as he crossed the room again. He dropped his suit jacket onto the chair, and Kira’s heart lurched as she read the look in his eyes.
“Jeremy . . .”
He stepped closer, and whatever she’d planned to say evaporated. His gaze was hot. Intense. And either she was really, really misreading him, or he wasn’t going anywhere.
He reached for the tie of her robe and gave a hard tug. She held his gaze even as she felt a draft against her bare skin.
He leaned his head down and kissed her, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her up on tiptoes. She slipped her hands around his neck, lacing her fingers together in case he tried to pull away. But he didn’t. His mouth was eager and determined. And the next thing she knew, he was moving her backward, steering her toward the bed until the backs of her legs hit the mattress. She slid her hands down his shirtfront, feeling the hard contours of his chest underneath. She rested her palm against his heart, and she could feel it thudding through the fabric, and as she looked into his eyes, she knew this was happening. Now. Finally. After two false starts and countless fantasies. His gaze was resolute, and his warm hands slid over her butt, pulling her against him.
She went up on tiptoes and kissed him again, letting her fingers glide down his sides, and her hand came to rest on his holster. She pulled back and trailed her finger over the grip of his gun, and just the hard feel of it made a shiver go through her.
“Take this off.” She looked up at him. She wanted him to be there as himself, not as her bodyguard.
He didn’t move. And she realized she’d given him another out, another chance to stop and think and come up with some logical reason why this was a bad idea.
His hands went to his belt, and he smoothly unbuckled it. With efficient movements, he removed his holster and stepped over to the nightstand, where he set everything beside the alarm clock. Next came his wallet and keys, and then he turned to face her.