“We searched the apartment,” Rachel reminded him. “No one was there. His goal tonight wasn’t my death. He just wanted me to know he was here.”
So now she’d be looking over her shoulder. Wondering if he was close by, watching her.
But she wondered that already. When a man promised to kill you, well, that kind of promise left an impression on a woman.
“He got past your security.” Now Dylan was pacing. He did that when he plotted and planned—quick, tight pacing.
“We know he’s good. The guy’s practically a ghost.”
“He’s good.” Dylan’s lips tightened. “I’m better.” And he headed toward her.
Rachel couldn’t help it, she tensed at his approach.
But all Dylan said was, “Take my bed. I’ll bunk down on the couch. In the morning, we’ll get a plan going, and we will catch this guy.”
Oh, right. He hadn’t been coming over to kiss her. That had been a one-shot deal. Rachel wet her too-dry lips. For an instant, she could almost taste him. Stop it. Stay focused. “I can take the couch.” Dylan was six foot three. His legs would dangle over the end of that thing. He should take the king-size bed. She’d be fine on the couch.
“I want you in my bed.”
Her heart raced even faster. Still from the adrenaline.
His hand lifted, and he brushed back the hair that had fallen over her brow. “It’s going to get worse, Rachel. You know it is. Jack won’t go down easily. The man’s a vicious killer.”
And I once thought I was falling in love with him.
“You need rest. Good rest. Not the kind you’ll find on my lumpy couch.”
They’d watched TV on that couch plenty of times. Horror movies. Baseball games. They’d shared popcorn.
He never kissed me then.
Even though she’d wanted him to do it. She’d wanted his mouth on hers so many times.
“Rachel?” he prompted.
She realized that she was simply standing there, staring up at him. “Ah...you need rest, too. You won’t be able to sleep on the couch, either.”
His smile came then. She hadn’t expected it, and, as always, the sight of that slow, sexy grin made her stomach twist. “Now, Rachel,” he murmured, “are you inviting me to share my bed with you?”
Her breath caught. She felt fire sting her cheeks. “Take the couch.” Rachel whirled and nearly ran into his bedroom.
His soft laughter followed her.
That laughter...it made her feel safe. But then, Dylan had a way of usually making her feel safe. He had from the very beginning. When she’d looked up in that nightmare, when blood had soaked her, he’d been there.
I’m going to take care of you. And he had. He’d stayed with her in the hospital, then later trained her at the EOD. He’d gone on every mission with her.
Dylan was her best friend. She’d forgive him for following Mercer’s orders. A temporary mess-up.
Tomorrow they’d get back to working as a team.
Rachel hurriedly undressed and pulled back the covers. No playing card waited for her this time.
She slid beneath the sheets. They were cool, and the bed smelled of him. Rachel inhaled, drinking in that crisp scent. She pulled the covers up to her chin.
The bed was too big, and Dylan—even though he wasn’t in the room—seemed to fill the space.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm her heartbeat.