Sirens shrill, growing closer.
I grimace at Lucifer, who’s now shifted his position to look up at me with those damn bright blue eyes I notice yet again, and there’s a quirk to his lips. He’s amused. I am definitely not. He’s also a little too good-looking for the safety of all of womankind. He arches a brow. “Can I retrieve my weapon and stand up?” he asks.
“We both know Kurt didn’t teach you to ask.”
“I usually don’t.”
“Then why are you now?”
“Respect.”
“For Kurt, not me.” I don’t give him time to answer. “Get up. Wait outside and don’t go anywhere. Law enforcement will want to interview you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, retrieving his weapon as he stands and slides it into a holster under his leather jacket.
“All clear!” Kurt calls out. “We have a scared young man here in the freezer area. Rear door is locked.”
“That’s Jonathan!” the woman behind the counter shouts. “Poor Jonathan.” The woman rounds the counter and rushes toward Kurt and the other man.
Lucifer steps closer, towering over me, and while some might think this move would intimidate me, Lucifer knows Kurt trained me, therefore, he already knows that won’t work on me.
As if confirming that truth, he says, “I heard Kurt had a badass daughter. I had no idea she would one day be the woman who brought me to my knees quite literally.”
He may, or may not, be flirting with me. “Kurt teaches us to resist. I’m surprised you even got on your knees.”
“Sometimes, a man doesn’t want to resist.”
He is flirting.
And I’m not nearly immune as I should be, either.
A police officer steps inside the store and we both glance that direction. The officer stomps a path toward us. Lucifer’s eyes return to me, potent in their impact. “I’ll see you outside, Ana,” he says, making it clear that he knows my name, through my association with Kurt. “And just for the record,” he adds. “My name is Luke Remington though I was born Lucas, and became Luke, per my mother, when I insisted on that change at age five. I also answer to Lucifer, my code name when I was flying jets. It has nothing to do with any work I did for, or with, Kurt. I’m not one of Kurt’s men, nor have I ever been one of his men.” He walks toward the officer, and I’m officially intrigued by this stranger who has an association I avoid: that being Kurt. No one who knows Kurt denies his influence and catches my attention. And yet, Lucifer, Luke, Lucas, whatever you want to call him, just did.
***
It’s a good hour later when I step outside the store into a cold, but not brutally cold, night to find Luke under a streetlight, leaning on a motorcycle seat, booted ankles crossed while talking with Kurt. Kurt pats his shoulder and then heads for his pickup truck. Luke doesn’t move. His eyes are on me. He’s waiting on me. There are butterflies in my belly that defy my badass reputation he’s claimed I own. I don’t know what is going on with me and this man, but I’m not interested in finding out, I tell myself, but my feet are still moving in his direction.
He watches me the entire walk, hyper-focused on me, and just me, and I don’t look away. A badass chick would never look away. I stop in front of him, a little too close I decide when he pushes off the bike and straightens, eating up the space between us. Now we’re so close that I can feel his body heat. I wonder if he can feel mine. Of course, he can, can’t he?
“I thought maybe I could take you for a coffee to apologize for that incident inside,” he suggests.
“You were a hero,” I say. “No need to apologize for that.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “And you’re not going to apologize for putting me on my knees, now are you?”
“No,” I say. “No, I am not. I was doing my job but I still concede that you were ultimately a hero.”
The mischief fades from his voice, his tone flat now. “I’m no hero, I just happened to be here. How about that coffee?”
My answer is no answer at all. It’s also not a question. “You trained with Kurt.”
“That did happen,” he confirms.
“Then you’re one of his, and I don’t do coffee with his men.”
“I’m not one of his.”
“Okay,” I say, not about to argue this point. Obviously, there’s something I don’t know. “Thank you for saving those people’s lives tonight. And if you’re going to be around, I’ll see you again, I’m certain.”
“Okay then,” he says, with a slight lean of his chin. “I respect your rules but I still want you to know that I’ve had a really shitty couple of days, and somehow the idea of taking you to coffee and kissing you after made this day worth living.”
I blink in surprise, and as Kurt’s stepdaughter, I’m rarely surprised. My heart punches at my chest. “You don’t even know me.”
“Is that still a no to the coffee?”
“No coffee,” I say, feeling my limbs grow heavy and warm. “Goodnight, Luke.”
I turn and start walking, and I don’t know why but after a few steps in, I stop and turn to face him. “Why was it a shitty few days?”
“My last week of enlistment, my last day of service, and one of my closest friends was killed in action. Made me wonder why the fuck I stayed in so long.”
I suck in a breath. He lost a friend and he still saved two lives tonight. And now, he says taking me to coffee and kissing me would make this day worth living? I close the space between us, about to break every rule I’ve ever made about all things Kurt. “Yes to coffee. No to the kiss. I’ll take my own car. Brewster’s is one block down on the right.”
His lips curve. “All right then. Brewster’s it is. And I can accept the kiss is off the table. For now.”
For now. God, why do I like that response so much? I turn and start walking toward my car with the roaring feeling that this decision will change my life, which is silly. It’s just coffee.
CHAPTER TWO
Lucifer
Six years later…
“Tell me again, why the hell am I on a damn horse, riding it in the middle of hellfire heat?” Adam and Savage, two of my cohorts from Walker Security, our employer, flank me left and right, but it’s Adam I’m glaring at now. “I wouldn’t have saved your life down on the border six months ago if I knew you’d drag me back into the hellfire on horseback.”
He laughs. “It’s Texas, and it’s not that bad. The food is good and the women are hotter than the sun.”
“And the mosquitos are the size of small birds,” I grumble, smacking at one on my arm.
“Training, man,” he says. “Bossman Blake wants us to be versatile.”
Walker Security is an elite worldwide operation, offering a broad range of private hire security, but they also run security for most of the airports, and consult with almost every facet of law enforcement. I came to them well-trained, but in a year and half, I’ve learned you’re never well trained enough to suit the Walker operation.