Unhinged Read online

  “Taking Michael to the first two appointments. There’s some personal business at my daughter’s school I have to handle,” he explains to Michael.

  “Oh, me?” I do this all the time. I always take clients to view houses. I love that part of the job most of all, actually.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Devon asks again.

  “Uh, I know Miranda—”

  The look I get from Devon cuts me off. We both know Miranda.

  “If Eve is uncomfortable…” Zach starts.

  I wonder if Devon hears the dare in his tone.

  “She isn’t uncomfortable, are you, Eve?” Devon asks.

  “No. Not at all,” I reply.

  “Good.” Devon rises. “That’s settled then.” Zach stands too, and he towers over Devon. “It’s good to meet you, Michael. I have every confidence we’ll be able to find you a beautiful new home.” They shake hands.

  “I have no doubt,” Zach says.

  They both turn to me and I realize I’m still sitting down. I nod my head and collect the folders while I rise to my feet. “If you’re ready then, um, Michael,” I say and the name he’s using catches in my throat.

  “We’ll take my truck,” he says.

  “But it’s—”

  He stops me with a look. “We’ll take my truck.”

  “Yes, si—” I catch myself before calling him sir, like I used to.

  My faltering makes him smile a little and if Devon notices how weird that was, he doesn’t let on. A moment later, Devon is gone and we’re alone in the room. Devon’s left the door open though. Thank goodness.

  I turn my attention to Zach. My throat is as dry as the desert as I look at him, really look at him. He always had tattoos but I see now he has more. Something—a snake, maybe two—winding up along his throat. But that’s not what catches my attention. It’s the other side of his neck. The scarring there. Burns. From that night.

  “Ever feel fire lick your skin, Eve?” he asks.

  I realize I’ve been staring too long. And he’s been watching me all that time. I drag my eyes to his. Force myself to look at him.

  “Ever smell human flesh burn?” he adds.

  I’m sweating, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  “It’s like a fucking barbecue.” He laughs, but it’s not funny. Not even to him. “Seared hamburger.”

  What does he know? How much can he know? He’s using an alias, as am I, but mine was given to me by the US government. Mine is stamped inside a passport. He’s supposed to be dead. They said he was a casualty of the failed mission.

  He sighs deeply. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” I ask stupidly.

  He’s already taken a step toward the door, but he stops and turns to me. “In the flesh. Albeit slightly charred flesh. We need to go.”

  “Where?”

  He walks back to the table, then comes around it to stand a foot from me. The only thing between us is the stack of folders I’m holding with a death grip. My heart is racing and I feel a droplet of sweat slide down my temple. His gaze travels over my face, moving down to my exposed neck, pausing at my throat, the pulse there, then drifts to where my breasts heave with every labored breath. He drags his eyes slowly back up to mine, and gives me a smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. How he’s making me feel. How nervous I am.

  And he likes it.

  When his hand moves, I gasp. He freezes for a moment—we both do, then he touches a folder.

  What the hell did I expect he’d do?

  “To the first house, of course,” he says.

  “What do you want?”

  He leans in close to me. Close enough I can feel his breath on my face. “Careful,” he starts in a whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “Your accent’s creeping in. You’ll give yourself away.”

  “Oh, good, you’re still here.” It’s Miranda at the door. She stops short when she sees us. Can she feel the tension in the air? This weighted, heavy, almost palpable thing between us? It takes her a moment but she shoots a flirtatious look at Zach, drags it over his thick chest before holding a piece of paper out to me. “Lockbox code for the McKinney property changed. Break-in.”

  “Oh,” I say. But I’m still standing there like an idiot.

  “Thank you,” Zach says, taking the slip of paper from her.

  I look at him, then at her.

  “It’s no trouble,” Miranda starts. “In fact, if you need anything, Mr. Beckham—”

  “Michael, please,” he says, his tone different.

  She smiles like a teenage girl.

  “I’m sure Eve here will be happy to help me with anything I may need,” Zach says, not missing a beat, his expression still flirtatious though, at least when he’s talking to her.

  “Oh, yeah, okay.” Miranda shrugs. “I’m just right out there, in case.” She stands there another minute twirling her hair.

  She’s so obvious it’s embarrassing to watch. And it animates me.

  “We should go,” I say, wanting to get whatever is coming over with. I know he’s not going to hurt me. If that was his plan, he’d have come to my house. Not here. Not where people would see him.

  “Okay then,” Miranda says. “Bye.” Obviously disappointed, she walks out of the conference room.

  He shifts his gaze and our eyes meet.

  “It’s you, isn’t it? Moving things around, in my house.”

  “You really should get better locks, habibi.”

  Baby. That’s the word that had pissed him off when one of his soldiers had used it. It’s a term of endearment in Arabic. But he’s not using it that way.

  No.

  He’s making sure I know I’ve lost his protection.

  In fact, he’s the one I’ll need protecting from.

  2

  Zach

  I have to admit, my entrance was impressive.

  I wait for Eve at the conference room door, standing between it and the frame.

  “After you,” I say, gesturing for her to go ahead. It’ll be a tight squeeze for her to pass, but I’m not interested in making it easy. I want her as uncomfortable as I can get her. Today is a big day for Eve El-Amin. It’s the day she learns there are consequences to actions. That you can’t run away from your past. From what you’ve done.

  She hugs her folders to her chest. She’s small, not quite five foot four barefoot. Even with the heels she has on, the top of her head only comes to about the middle of my chest. She takes in the space between the doorframe and me. Glances up at my face. Then tries to squeeze past without touching me. It’s kind of funny. I don’t let her through, though. Instead, I trap her between the wall and me. All I have to do is touch my chest to hers to do it and when I do, she gasps.

  Big, caramel-colored eyes meet mine. I remember those eyes. Like the desert at sunset. I look inside them and remember her from before. Young—not quite twenty back then. Not even college educated, but intelligent. Spoke almost fluent English even then. I knew she’d come to us out of desperation. The El-Amin family was well known in Beirut, especially her oldest brother, Armen. She betrayed him to save him. At least that’s what she was thinking. She thought she’d made a deal for her brother. But then he screwed her too. Although I’m still not sure if that was a distraction. If she knew all along what would happen. If I was the fool who fell for the trick, and in my stupidity got six men killed.

  I’d underestimated Eve El-Amin, and after that night, I wondered if I had paid more attention to those questions I couldn’t quite get answers to, the alarm bells I ignored when it came to her, if my men would be alive today.

  Eve’s cheeks are flushed pink and I’m pretty sure if I don’t give her space, she’s going to burst into tears. She’s sweating bullets. I can see beads of perspiration along her hairline. I back off, and she passes me.

  “I need to get my bag,” she says, her voice a squeak.

  I nod and wait by the door, but keep an eye on her. The office
is small. There’s one back exit but there’s no reason for her to go that way. Hers is the first office beside the receptionist, and the walls are glass so I know she won’t try to make a run for it. It’d be stupid of her to, anyway. She doesn’t even know why I’m here. Doesn’t know I’ve got nothing on that night. That it’s not official military business that brings me. All I know is that she was the sole survivor of the crew that worked this particular mission, and I was pronounced dead way too fucking fast. No men were sent to look for us. To help. Nothing. I know all this because the doctor who saved my life told me. The army thinks it lost seven elite soldiers that night. Why wasn’t there a single attempt at rescue?

  Although with all the charred remains in that building, I guess it could have been a mistake. But something told me it wasn’t. And I had learned my lesson about ignoring my gut.

  When Eve returns with her bag and the folders, I push the glass door open to let her into the parking lot. Heat bombards us as soon as we step outside.

  “That one,” I say, fishing keys out of my pocket and hitting the button to unlock the doors of the Ford F-150.

  She turns to it when she hears the beep and sees the lights blink. She nods but doesn’t move.

  I take the few steps to the truck and open the passenger side door. “Get in.”

  She looks inside the truck like the Grim Reaper himself is sitting there and when she turns to me, her eyes are glistening with tears and I see her shoulders shudder. She’s white-knuckling the folders.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. Not sure if it’s the truth or a lie just yet. Maybe I’m sexist, but if she were a man, this reunion would be going very differently. But I don’t hit women. Even if they are traitors.

  I’m not above using other means to get answers though.

  I know she has to force her body along with every halting step, but she gets to the truck. The running board is higher than she’s used to, but I don’t help her. I watch her instead as she shifts the folders to one hand and hikes her skirt up a little. It’s the first glimpse I get of her legs. Pretty. Slender.

  I don’t hide the fact that I’m looking. In fact, I admire her body openly, slowly sliding my gaze upward, back to her face. I’m pretty sure her eyes can’t get any wider.

  “In.” I grip her elbow to hoist her up.

  She sucks in an audible breath at the contact.

  A moment later, she’s in the truck. I walk over to my side and open the door, slide my jacket off and toss it into the backseat before getting in. She’s practically pasted herself to the door to be as far away from me as possible, and her eyes dart from my chest to my arms, taking it all in.

  “Seatbelt,” I say.

  I click mine into place. I know what she’s looking at. She can see at least some of the tattoos through the white button-down shirt I’m wearing. They cover the whole of one arm and shoulder, the one without the bumpy, burned skin. I can’t wait to see her face when she gets a look at my back though.

  She drags her belt across her chest and snaps it into place.

  I start the engine and put the truck into drive. The doors automatically lock when I do, and she lets out a startled gasp. It makes me smile as I navigate out of the parking lot. “Standard feature,” I say, eyeing traffic to make my way into the stream. I only turn to her once we’re on our way. “Don’t worry. I didn’t have it installed just to kidnap you.”

  She opens her mouth to speak, and I’m wondering if her nerves will give way to her guilt. If she knew all along what would happen that night. If she agreed to it.

  “If I wanted to do that,” I continue, “I wouldn’t need the locks anyway.”

  “Do what?” She’s visibly confused.

  I face her squarely for a moment as we stop at a red light. “Kidnap you.”

  She swallows a lump in her throat.

  “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  I give her a smirk then face forward as the light changes to green. “You’re awfully nervous.”

  “I’ve just seen a dead man.”

  “Hmm. What’s the address?”

  “What?”

  “The first house on your list. Pay attention, Eve. You used to be quicker on your feet.”

  She doesn’t have a retort, but opens the first folder and reads off the address. It’ll be about forty minutes before we get to the house. I know the area. I even know the house. When I called Devon Alderson, I’d already done my research.

  “Out in the middle of nowhere, huh?” I say casually, turning onto the highway. We’re only going to be on it for a few minutes though. I plan on taking the long way.

  “I thought you were dead,” she finally says.

  “Surprise.”

  “I’m glad you’re not.”

  “I doubt that.”

  No reply, not for a long time.

  “What are you doing here, Zach?”

  “Zach?” I ask, glancing to her. “Are we old friends?”

  Her cheeks flush. I remember how that always happened with her. I’d always assumed it was the heat. “I-I don’t know what to call you.”

  “You almost called me ‘sir’ earlier,” I give her a wink and watch her swallow. “Give me your cell phone.”

  “What?”

  “Cell phone. Give it to me.”

  “Devon will know if you do anything to me. If I go missing, he’ll call the police.”

  “I’m really good at disappearing, as you should know. Being dead makes it easy.”

  She rubs her face, then runs her hands into her hair, pulling for a moment. “What do you want?”

  I put on my turn signal and navigate to the right to exit the highway. It leads to a barely used service road, and she panics.

  “What are you doing?” She’s already unbuckling her belt and trying the door. After a few moments of fruitless effort, she turns to me. A tear slips from one eye that she quickly wipes away.

  I have to take care not to fall for that. She already fooled me once. Never again.

  “I like the scenic route,” I say. “You know I’ve never been much of a people person. Now are you going to hand me your phone, or am I going to have to take it?”

  “Why do you want it?” She eyes me warily as she fastens her seatbelt.

  “So our time together is uninterrupted. You’ll get it back later.”

  “People know where we’re going. You won’t get away—”

  I give an exaggerated sigh. “Relax, Eve. I just have questions I need you to answer.”

  “About that night.”

  “No, about the fucking weather. Yes, about that night.”

  “How are you alive?”

  The right side of my mouth curves upward for a single moment, but it’s a hard line when I next speak. “The kindness of a stranger,” I say. “After the treachery of a friend.”

  She has the good grace to bow her head. Reaching down, she picks up her purse from the floor, fishes out her cell phone and holds it out to me. I look down at her hand, palm up, the phone sitting in it. When I take it, my fingers brush hers. She startles at the touch. I switch off her phone and slide it into the glove compartment.

  For the rest of the ride, we’re both silent. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I can feel the anxiety coming off her. If I think back to the few days prior to that last mission, I remember her being off, acting differently. I can’t stop berating myself, blaming myself. The signs were there. But I didn’t listen, not to them, not to my gut. And it cost six of my men their lives. She cost them their lives.

  My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. I need to keep it together. I want her on edge, but she isn’t going to be any use to me if she’s terrified, and I have questions only she can answer. I’ll decide after that what to do with her. What she deserves.

  “That’s the turnoff,” she says, pointing to what looks to be a dirt road but is truly a long driveway.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  I smile. �
��I did my homework.”

  “You planned everything.”

  I nod and turn onto the drive. It’s a mile of dirt leading up to the house, which could use some attention. It’s old, huge and very private with several acres of land surrounding it. It’s perfect.

  “What’s going to happen in there?” she asks when I park the car and kill the engine.

  “Isn’t this your job? Don’t you know?”

  “You’re not here to see this house. We both know that.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I am.” I unbuckle my belt and open my door. “Let’s go.” After sliding out, I slam it shut. She’s still sitting in the truck when I walk around to her side. I’m rolling up my sleeves as I go. I’m guessing since the farmhouse is empty, if it even has AC, it’s not running. Before opening her door, I open the back one and take out a black duffel bag. I sling it over one shoulder then open her door. She’s eyeing that bag like it’s a snake I’ve just wrapped around my neck.

  “Let’s go, habibi.”

  That last word makes her flinch.

  I reach in and stretch my arm across her body and can’t help my grin when she presses her back as far into the seat as possible. Locking eyes with her, I unclick her belt.

  “You have a house to show me.”

  3

  Eve

  I’m trying really hard not to scream and run, and I can’t take my eyes off the black duffel Zach just slung over his shoulder.

  When he stands to the side, I slide out, holding onto the door handle to take the giant step to the ground. I reach back in for my purse, but his big hand falls on my shoulder to stop me.

  “You won’t need that,” he says.

  I glance at his hand, feel its weight, its power, and it takes me a moment to turn and face him.

  “I’ll lock the car, and I’ve got the key code right here. That Miranda’s efficient, isn’t she?”

  I can’t speak, but I don’t think he’s expecting an answer. He slams the door shut, locks it, and heads up to the house. I look at him, at his powerful back, thick, strong legs, and I look around me. We’re all alone out here, in the middle of nowhere. Devon may know where I am, but that’s not going to do me a whole lot of good. Not if Zach decides to hurt me. Not until after it’s too late.