Chapter 9

"Come on, you can do better than that. Hurt me. Take me out the very moment I come at you."

Lily blew out the side of her mouth at an errant strand of sweaty hair that clung to the side of her face. Her head down, she backed up and forced her body to relax, bouncing a little on her bare toes on the exercise mat beneath her feet. Sarge, aka Sergeant Wally Devlin, U.S. Army, Ret., stood a few feet away, his big body clad in desert camo, his head down as he studied her from under bushy brows. Any second now, he would come at her, giving her no warning as to which move he intended to use, where he might grab her, if he'd lunge or kick or dive.

And she would fight back.

"Don't think," he snapped. "Don't plan. And for God's sake, don't dwell on what you might have done to change what happened in the past. Just do it now."

What she might have done to change the past? Considering she'd been shot a few times within milliseconds of seeing her attacker's hand-and his weapon-come around the side of the surveillance van door, she didn't chide herself for not doing more.

Getting involved in the Lovesprettyboys investigation to begin with? Well, that was another story. High kicks and fast punches might not have stopped her from getting shot. But minding her own business, doing her own job, and not lying to her boss about what was going on probably would have.

"Come on, Lily, get-"

He lunged without warning, midsentence. Went left. Her body reacted instinctively. She swung right, curled her left leg for a Crescent Kick, then immediately spun farther and hit him with a Double Side Piercing Kick.

"Good girl!" he chortled as he fell to the mat.

She stepped back into a waiting position, not even winded. "You okay?"

He rolled onto his knees and looked up at her. "That's the kind of response I was looking for. Instinct kicks in. You don't overanalyze-your body tells you what to do."

The sarge was powerfully built, stubborn, and tough, but he was also a sixty-year-old man. She'd put him on the mat pretty hard, and it hadn't been the first time today. They'd been at it for an hour, enjoying the afternoon session outdoors on the patio to savor the warmth of the September day. She extended a hand to help him up.

He stared at it, rolled his eyes, then ignored her help and rose with a grunt. "Don't go getting cocky, girlie."

She grinned. At first, the man had seemed like a grizzly bear. He'd pushed her hard when she hadn't believed she was ready to be pushed. He'd made her strong and made her want to be even stronger. But she'd come to recognize him as more teddy than grizzly. She didn't remember her father very well, since she'd been five when her parents had died. But she hoped he would have been at least a little bit like this man.

Reaching for a towel on the nearby table, he wiped his brow, then grabbed a water bottle and downed half its contents. Lily wasn't fooled by his weary demeanor or his heavy breathing. The man had set her up on more than one occasion. She looked for a tiny twitch of his mouth, or the shift of his eyes as he studied her position, something that would indicate a surprise assault.

"Want some?" he asked, lifting a second water bottle.

Still prepared, she nodded once, and extended her hand.

He grabbed it, tugged her forward, tried to twist her around. She responded with two quick jabs and a kick that dropped him to his knees on the mat.

'Excellent!"

"Wow, remind me to never offer you a bottle of water," a voice said.

Lily tensed, the way she hadn't when preparing for Sarge's next move. Because she recognized the voice.

A small part of her, the part that was still Lily Fletcher, who couldn't seem to get through a day without doing something klutzy, reacted with pleasure. Pure happiness at the thought of seeing a friend poured through her before she could stop it.

But the rest of her responded only with wariness, wondering what Brandon Cole was doing here, and what the visit meant.

"Brandon," she said, nodding at the spiky-haired blond who stood in the open doorway leading from the kitchen. He'd once been her friend, someone who'd somehow been able to make her smile, even on days when she thought she'd never smile again.

She'd missed him. But not enough to invite him to start coming back around again, building up his expectations that their relationship could be something it had never been, and would never be.

"Hey, gorgeous." He stepped out, arms wide, smiling so gently, genuinely happy to see her, she couldn't be annoyed that he'd surprised her. Or that he'd ignored her instructions not to come up.

She allowed him to tug her close for a hug, but quickly pulled away. "I'm a sweaty mess," she said with a forced laugh. Gesturing toward his trendy-as-always clothes, which looked as though they'd come off the pages of a men's fashion magazine, she added, "I couldn't afford to have that outfit dry-cleaned, much less replace it if I ruin it."

Knowing Brandon wouldn't have come alone, especially not on a Thursday afternoon, and that he couldn't have gotten in without Wyatt to bring him through the security checkpoints, she glanced past him into the darker depths of the house. A shadow stood there, tall, solid. Then he stepped closer and she saw his eyes.

Those wary, worried eyes.

Lily tensed. "What's wrong?"

She hadn't spoken to him since the previous evening. After his unproductive visit to the Virginia doctor's office on Tuesday, he'd dived deep into other possible witnesses. He and Brandon had contacted convention attendees, and when he'd called her last night with an update, he'd said they were striking out with every one. Some of the doctors genuinely didn't recognize the voice of the monster on the tape. Others, however, wouldn't listen at all; they just weren't willing to cooperate. Which made her wonder if someone had asked them not to.

Of course, that could just be the pessimist in her.

"Hello, Wyatt," she murmured. "Two Thursdays in a row. I'm honored." She wondered if he heard her insincerity, or her sarcasm. Frankly, she didn't know why she enjoyed jabbing at him, letting him know she wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to have him around. Maybe it was because she had once liked being around him a bit too much, and the feeling had never been reciprocated. Or because on that one night when she wondered whether it might be reciprocated, he had backed off so fast he might have sprouted wings and flown off the side of the cliff from the beach house.

Then she remembered the way he had left Sunday. The way he'd stormed out into the night, desperate to get away from her curious eyes, from her questions. From any responsibility to explain anything about himself to another human being.

And she realized why she was a little annoyed. Yes, she'd been sympathetic and she knew he had been horrified by the drunk at the restaurant. But part of her had really expected him to at least mention the incident, apologize for practically dumping her without a word. Yet he hadn't. He'd acted as though it had never happened. Which meant he had absolutely no intention of ever discussing the matter again.

"Hello, Lily," he replied evenly before glancing at Sarge. "Wyatt."

The army sergeant extended a hand, shaking Wyatt's firmly. Lily didn't know how the men knew each other, but she did know Wyatt trusted Devlin completely. The older man had made a comment or two that made it sound as though he'd known Wyatt from childhood, but he'd quickly clammed up whenever the subject skirted too close to Blackstone's sheltered past. She would bet Sarge was one of those people with some answers to the questions she wouldn't allow herself to ask.

"Good to see you again, son. We were just finishing up, but we can work out a little longer if you'd like to join in."