Rules In Defiance

He denied the urge to wrap her in his arms. While he hadn’t taken her on as an official client—yet—the same rules applied. No getting involved with clients. “Just yours?”

She nodded but refused to let go of that damn phone. “Yes. Someone burned it all. My handwritten notes, my digital files, a decade’s worth of studies and genetic testing… It was all in my desk or on my computer. What am I going to do?”

“What about a backup?” There had to be something salvageable.

“Genism doesn’t allow employees to have backups other than the company server, but Matt said that’s been tampered with, too.” She swiped at her face, shoulders rising on a deep inhale as though her emotional reservoir had run dry. “We can’t bring any foreign devices into the lab, take files out or save them to the cloud.”

Of course they couldn’t. That would make too much sense. And, suddenly, Elliot couldn’t keep his distance from her any longer. Reaching for her, he slid his fingers up her arms. Calluses caught on her smooth skin, the rush of the scent of geraniums was intoxicating. “Waylynn, I’m sorry. I know how much your work meant—means—to you.”

It was her entire life, her career. Her ticket out of a rough childhood, which he’d most recently learned included a murder accusation. She’d moved on from that life, had obviously worked hard for it. College, graduate school, becoming one of the foremost experts in the country on genetics. And in the flash of a flame, it was gone. Didn’t seem fair.

“Does this place have a shower?” she asked.

“Bathroom is past the kitchen on the right.” Elliot hiked a thumb over his shoulder and turned slightly to give her a line of sight. Despite the bloody tint to her blond hair, the smear of her eyeliner and mascara, and the fact she’d lost everything that mattered to her, Waylynn held her head high.

“Take your time. Clean towels are hanging behind the door,” he said.

A single nod was all he got in response as she pulled out of his grasp and headed toward the bathroom.

The lock clicked into place and he didn’t waste any time. Whoever’d framed her for murder had started the fire in her lab. He was sure of it. The timing. The opportunity. They both lined up. The SOB might be dangerous, but Elliot was worse. Because they’d never see him or his team coming.

Extracting his laptop from one of the black duffel bags on the couch, he flipped it open and took a seat at the counter. Framing Waylynn to cover up a murder was one thing. Alexis’s murder could’ve had nothing to do with Waylynn, but his next-door neighbor happened to make the perfect scapegoat with her sordid past. Coming after Waylynn’s research? That was personal. Someone was hunting her.

The unsub—unknown subject—had to know about her father’s murder accusation in order for the frame job to stick. Except those records had been sealed because Waylynn had been a minor at the time. Which meant the bastard was either connected to the case or had premeditated pinning the murder on Waylynn by looking for something incriminating. He couldn’t discount any possibility. Not when it came to keeping her alive.

Elliot glanced toward the bathroom at the sound of water hitting tile. It’d take a few minutes for her to wash off the blood. Focusing on the screen, he pulled up the internet browser and typed in her name. His finger hovered over the enter key. Of all the people he’d investigated, of all the chances he’d had to dig into her past, he’d kept Waylynn’s off-limits, respecting her privacy. He had an entire team of coworkers. Former SEALs and Rangers, an ex-National Security Agency consultant, a military investigator, Blackhawk Security’s forensics expert and a psychologist. He’d worked with them for over a year, trusted them with his life, but Waylynn was different. Special. Forbidden.

And yet someone was trying to hurt her.

He hit the button. The screen brightened as headlines filled the page. Top stories included the massive progress she’d made in the bioengineering community, but one stood out among the rest. “Rhinebeck, NY, fifteen-year-old acquitted of father’s murder.” Elliot read through the article. Waylynn had spent over three weeks in county lockup after her arrest on school grounds. Never gave a statement, never tried to blame the crime on someone else, or offered an alibi. Police had questioned her cancer-stricken mother at the time, but ultimately concluded Nora Hargraves didn’t have the strength to lift the missing handgun used to kill her husband in cold blood. Without the murder weapon, the prosecution had no other choice than to release the teen despite ample motive and opportunity. Her mother had died during the trial.

Hell. In the year they’d been neighbours, he’d known Waylynn had lost her mother when she was younger, and about the foster family who’d taken her in until she’d turned eighteen, but he hadn’t realized the circumstances. Elliot leaned back in his chair to break up the tightness in his throat. He’d been on his own since he was fourteen. Voluntarily. Waylynn had everyone taken from her in a three-week span. He glanced toward the bathroom.

But none of this narrowed down a suspect pool. Nathan Hargraves had been shot nine times and died from massive blood loss. The forensic pathologist who’d signed the death certificate hadn’t gone into more detail other than a final conclusion reading “homicide” and a note that reported a mere five dollars in cash had been found on the body at the time of the autopsy.

No other family. No friends who’d seemed too beat up about her father’s death. No reason for someone to come after Waylynn. He’d have to do some more digging, but if Alexis’s murder and the fire at the lab had anything to do with Waylynn’s past, he couldn’t see it. Which meant their suspect had learned about the trial, but only planned to use it to secure an arrest fifteen years later. Would’ve worked, too. If police had recovered the gun.

Elliot ran a hand through his hair, then rested his elbow against the counter. She hadn’t told him any of this. In the year they’d been neighbors, she’d never mentioned her parents, her hometown, the fact she’d been in the foster system at the age of fifteen. Then again, how often had he talked about his parents? His hometown?

“All right, Alexis Jacobs, show me what you’ve got.” He rolled back his right shoulder, working through the stiffness that still paralyzed the scar tissue around the bullet wound there. If the unsub wasn’t connected to Waylynn’s trial, then someone wanted the assistant dead for a reason. What had Waylynn said when he’d found her in the bathroom this morning? Alexis wanted to meet because she’d found something within the study they’d been conducting at the lab. But with all of Waylynn’s research destroyed, he doubted the assistant’s discovery hadn’t been destroyed with it. He scanned through Alexis’s social media pages. Three different sites. Hundreds of pictures. But this one… Elliot stopped scrolling and straightened. The redheaded beauty with freckles had taken a photo of herself a few days before her death, showing off what looked like a new tattoo of a Q with a heart on her wrist. The Queen of Hearts. But it was what was behind her that urged him to lean closer to the screen. A black external hard drive sticking out of the victim’s purse.

“Bingo.” Waylynn had said Genism didn’t allow employees to back up their files on foreign devices, but what if Alexis hadn’t followed company rules? He needed to get that hard drive.

The bathroom door clicked open and in his next breath, Waylynn rounded into the kitchen. Damn, he hadn’t even heard her shut off the water. Hair still wet, she notched her chin level with the floor and curled her fingers into tight fists at her sides. Defiant. Strong. Sexy as hell.

“Well, don’t you look nice when you’re not covered in blood.” Nervous energy exploded across his back as he closed the laptop, sliding it against the granite. She didn’t need to see photos of the woman she’d found in her bathtub. Didn’t need to know he’d looked into her trial. He drew his eyebrows together when she didn’t respond. “You okay?”

“I want to know who’s trying to destroy my life.” Determination had cooled the day’s confusion in her expression. The tears had dried, her jaw set, and she focused 100 percent on him. “You’re a private investigator. I’m hiring you and your firm. Find out who did this to me.”

“WE NEED TO get to my lab.” There were plenty of monsters who knew how to play at being human. Which one of them had ruined her life? The possibilities were endless. Someone from her own lab. A rival geneticist. One of the volunteers from her studies. Her research into the warrior gene fulfilled her in a way nothing else had managed to for her entire life. She wasn’t going to let that go. Not for anything. The person responsible wasn’t going to get away with it. Waylynn settled back against the granite countertop, crossing her arms across her midsection. Then again, not all monsters did monstrous things. “Alexis said she wanted to meet with me about one of the studies. We record all of those sessions with our volunteers. So if something strange happened with one of them, it’d be on the security footage.”

The weight of Elliot’s gaze warmed her neck and face. Her pulse quickened. Her body surged to attention when he looked at her like that—like she was the only woman in the entire world—and her brain checked out temporarily. This place, the location, it suited him. If anything, he seemed more relaxed here than he had in the year she’d known him as her next-door neighbor. Fewer tension lines bracketed the edges of those gray eyes. If she was being honest with herself, in his tiny cabin, out in the middle of the woods trying to keep her safe, he’d never been more attractive.

“You want to be caught at yet another crime scene tied to this case? That’s a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea.” He stood, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do it and see what happens.”

Reality snapped her back into the moment and she pushed thoughts of him into a dark little corner of her brain where she prayed it’d never see the light of day again. “What?”

“First things first.” Elliot pointed toward her and closed the space between them faster than she thought possible. His body heat tunneled through her borrowed sweats as he slid one arm around her. Her breath caught in her lungs, surprise paralyzing her in place. In the next moment, he’d retreated, handing her a package of peanut butter Oreos. “You need to eat, then sleep. In that order.”

She blinked, staring at the unopened blue plastic package in her hand. Tiny cabin. Limited space. He hadn’t been stepping in for an intimate moment or to help tame the chaos eating her up from the inside. Waylynn released the breath she’d been holding. Had she wanted him to? “You know my favorite flavor of Oreos?”

“Investigating 101.” He leaned back against the opposite counter. “Everything you need to know about a person is in their daily routine, and you, my friend, bring home a lot of peanut butter Oreo packages.”

A burst of laughter escaped from between her lips, because if she didn’t have this small release, she feared she might fall apart. “You just happened to have a supply here?”

“I may have wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” He crossed his arms, emphasizing the muscles across his chest, and his boots at the ankles.

She played with the back of her earring, scraping her thumbnail along the edge of her earlobe. “And?”

“And they’re addictive.” A bright widening of his lips played across his mouth as he blinked at her, and every cell in her body shot to attention. How was it, after everything that’d happened this morning, he could affect her like this?

“That’s what I thought.” Waylynn peeled back the sticky plastic in an empty attempt to calm the uncertainty ripping through her, took a cookie, then offered him the package. Nope. Not even the combination of chocolate and peanut butter frosting could erase the last twelve hours. Alexis was still dead and her career had gone up in flames. Another flash of her writing that note skittered across her memory. She fought to steady her racing pulse and forced herself to study Elliot as he bit into an Oreo instead.

The rest of the world fell away. The charges against her, the accusing tone in Officer Ramsey’s voice, the fact police would probably want to speak to her about the fire, too. In this moment, all she saw was him. Elliot. Her next-door neighbor, her closest friend who she’d spent countless hours quizzing on horrible ’90s country music lyrics by text message throughout the day. Which he knew by heart. The only man who’d been able to change her breathing patterns with a single look in her direction.

Elliot laughed, pulling her back into the moment. “I promise I’m not that interesting, Doc.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t going to go down that road.

“Excuse me. I need some air.” Waylynn discarded the remainder of her cookie into the sink and put one foot in front of the other until she reached the front door. She had to get out of here. Away from him. If only for a few minutes to clear her head. The wood walls blurred in her vision as she escaped out the front. The rush of a cold Alaskan breeze beat against her as she closed the door behind her. Her heartbeat pounded loud behind her ears, the pressure behind her sternum more manageable the longer she kept the door between them. She ran a hand through her damp hair easily. No longer crusted with blood.

The sudden surge of desire she’d felt for him in those heated moments drained. She’d kept her and Elliot’s friendship casual for over a year, but now… Now she’d started imagining that smile in the morning after they woke up in the same bed. How his hair would stick out in every direction as he prepared her breakfast. How they’d have the rest of their lives to test each other’s knowledge of bad country music. She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the fantasy. They were friends. Nothing more.

A ring of trees surrounded the tiny cabin, weeds cleared approximately fifteen feet in each direction. Nothing but wilderness and blue skies as far as she could see, and a sense of peace settled over her. Elliot had certainly picked the perfect spot to get away from reality. When was the last time she’d gotten out of town, away from work, took a break for herself? Waylynn took in a lungful of crisp, clean mountain air.

Short answer? Never.

After the trial, after her mother’s death, she’d thrown herself into investigating what had gone wrong. Why her father’s behavior had changed so drastically in such a short amount of time with no sign of disease, no evidence of cancer, tumors, mental disabilities, no added stresses at work. Why he’d suddenly turned against her and her mother. The yelling, the fights, the physical altercations. In the end, she’d tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. He’d gotten what he’d deserved, but what if it hadn’t been his fault? What if, like those afflicted with any other genetic disorder, he hadn’t been able to control himself?

Waylynn rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down to fight back the burn in her eyes. A simple blood test had confirmed her theory. He’d been born with a variant of the monoamine oxidase A gene. The “warrior gene.” By disrupting the neurotransmitters dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin, the gene predisposed carriers to more aggressive and violent behavior. While Genism and their military contractors paid her to take advantage of those specific behaviors, she’d spent every waking minute looking for ways to neutralize them. One success. That was all it would take to change the world. To change her world.

Maybe then she and Elliot could become more than—

A low vibration came from the tree line, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Movement shifted the weeds and bushes to her right and her blood pressure spiked. She unfolded her arms. The vibration grew louder, harsher, a split second before thick, brown fur and four long legs materialized at the edge of the trees. Black eyes focused on her and Waylynn couldn’t move. Frizzy hackles raised along the moose’s back. No antlers. A female. But with her ears flattened against her head and nostrils flared, she was just as terrifying as the male of the species.

Waylynn raised her palms in surrender, taking a step back.

Another warning reached her ears and outright fear paralyzed her in place. The creature’s long, thin face dipped toward two smaller brown faces at her feet. Her babies. Newborn twins. Waylynn wouldn’t hold up against a full-fledged moose charge. The damn tiny cabin wouldn’t hold up against the mother defending those calves. “Elliot.”

His name barely registered over the moose’s low-pitched growl. With a couple of licks to the newborns, the mother refocused her efforts on keeping them safe. Waylynn lowered her hands slowly, sweat building on her upper lip. She fought to breathe around the fear clawing up her throat. Any sudden move, any attempt to escape, and the moose would charge. Licking dry lips, she tried to speak again. “Elliot.”

“Don’t move.” Warmth flooded through her. He stepped inside her peripheral vision, so quietly she hadn’t heard him come outside. As though he’d been able to feel her fear from inside the cabin and had come running. Elliot shifted in front of her, attention on the mother and her young. It was only after he’d moved between her and the moose that Waylynn understood what he was trying to do. He tossed an apple in the creature’s direction. His voice leveled with reasoning. “Nobody wants your babies, Mabel. They look like a handful. So I’ll make you a deal. You can have the rest of these apples, but you have to get them to go.”

“I take it you two know each other?” Waylynn kept her voice low. She didn’t dare look away from the cow protecting her young despite the fact all she wanted to do was run.

“We’ve met.” Elliot notched his head back toward her slightly. “Mabel moved in around the same time I had the cabin built. Thing One and Thing Two there were born about two months ago, and she does not like the fact I vacation close by.”

Mabel searched for the fruit, then brought her head back up, mouth empty. A rough exhale expanded the moose’s nostrils.

“All right, Doc, she’s not taking the bait, and it looks like we’re in the middle of a standoff.” Elliot rebalanced his weight between both feet. “When I give you the signal, I want you to run as fast as you can for the cabin. Don’t look back and don’t wait for me.”

“What?” Waylynn took her eyes off Mabel. “I’m not going to leave you out here to take on a moose by your—”

A wall of muscle slammed her into the dirt. Her head snapped back against the ground; she couldn’t see straight. He’d moved so fast she didn’t have time to comprehend what’d happened until the beat of twelve hoofed feet faded into the woods. Mabel had charged, her babies had tagged along with her, and Elliot had tackled Waylynn to the ground. She struggled to breathe as he positioned his hands on either side of her, that damn gut-wrenching smile stretching his mouth thin. “That was fun.”

His exhales skittered along her oversensitized skin and her heart fought to break through her rib cage in response. He’d saved her life. From a moose. “You and I have very different ideas of fun.”

Chapter Four

He’d made mistakes.

Life didn’t come with a set of instructions, but Elliot probably wouldn’t have followed them anyway. Having her this close, in his home away from home, was a mistake. He’d been trying to save her from a life-ending stampede by Mabel and her calves but instead had gotten the up-close-and-personal Waylynn experience. Even four hours later, with her fast asleep upstairs in his bed, he could still smell her perfume on his clothing, remember the widening of her pupils as he’d looked down at her, feel the smoothness of her skin against the calluses in his palms.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. It wouldn’t happen. Not now. Not ever. And most definitely not with her. Sure, they’d been friends for a while, but friends didn’t expect or ask for commitment. Not in the same way a romantic relationship did. He’d spent the better parts of his life at the mercy of others. Never again.

The sun had leveled with the horizon hours ago, yet light still poured in through the windows. Daylight at midnight. No better time than to plan their next move. His phone chimed with an incoming message. Swiping his thumb across the screen, he read Vincent Kalani’s report. No hard drive recovered from Alexis Jacobs’s apartment. The former cop and Blackhawk Security’s current forensics expert had a relationship with the Anchorage police chief, which had gotten the team out of a lot of sticky situations in the past few months. Brothers in blue or something like that. But the missing hard drive triggered Elliot’s gut instinct.

Someone was framing Waylynn for her assistant’s murder. Either the unsub had broken into Alexis’s apartment and taken the drive before police had a chance to search the place or the redhead had taken steps to make sure it would never be found if her employer came calling.

Only one way to find out.

Threading his arms through his shoulder holster, he glanced up toward the loft where Waylynn slept. No point in waking her now. If he found the hard drive, he’d bring it back here and they’d go through it together. If not, he’d have no reason to break the bad news. She’d been through enough. Elliot turned toward the door but slowed as the hairs on the back of his neck rose on end.

“You, sir, are a terrible bodyguard.” That voice. Hell, that voice could move mountains. He’d recognize it anywhere, had memorized every inflection and tone.

“In my defense, you’re supposed to be asleep and I was going to set the alarm.” He turned toward her. Air locked in his lungs as she came down the narrow set of stairs. Long blond hair shifted over her shoulders, the muscles in her lean, bare legs flexing as she moved. Bright teal toenails reflected the flames crackling in the fireplace a few feet away. “Are you wearing my MIT shirt?”

“As nice of a gesture Officer Ramsey made by lending me her sweats so she could keep my clothes as evidence, I couldn’t sleep in them. Hope you don’t mind. I found it on top of a stack of shirts by the bed.” She tugged on the hem but failed to make a damn bit of difference hiding all that perfect skin. “Although, not sure it matters what I’m wearing. When I close my eyes…” She folded her arms, accentuating the slight curves beneath his shirt, but not even that could distract him from the fear in those mesmerizing blue eyes. “I didn’t know you’d gone to MIT.”

She was avoiding the subject, the thing that kept her from falling asleep. He’d let her. For now. Everyone had their breaking point. And he had a feeling the frame job, the loss of her research—they were just the beginning.

“Mechanical engineering. Didn’t last long.” The dean tended to look down on students getting paid to take exams for their graduating class.

“Mechanical engineer. Con man. Private investigator.” Waylynn stepped off the last step and rested her weight against the kitchen counter. “Which one of you is sneaking out of your own cabin in the middle of the night to follow a lead without me?”

Damn, she was good. “That would be the private investigator.” He scratched at his beard. “You’d mentioned Genism doesn’t allow employees to store their work on foreign devices, but I have a picture of your assistant with a hard drive in the background.” He opened the door partway. “Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?”

“That depends.” She notched her chin parallel with the floor, the small muscles shifting in the firelight. “You’re not suggesting breaking and entering, are you?”

“Give me a little more credit than that.” His phone chimed with an incoming message. Elliot swiped his thumb over the screen a second time, then turned the phone toward her so she could read the message herself. “I have someone on the inside. He’s already at the location. Are you in or are you out, Doc?”