The Intelligence Unit Series

Tara dropped her spoon into the empty bowl in front of her and frowned. "Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Amour looked up from the mostly full bowl of ice cream she'd been trailing her spoon through and shook her head. "Nah. I'm good."

Tara considered calling the younger woman out on the lie. She'd been here for an hour, catching Amour up on the investigation (condensed version: still no solid leads, but Intelligence was working the case from every angle) and making sure she was okay (news flash: she'd been assaulted and had her life threatened by someone who very much meant to kill her. Okay was a pipe dream). Amour might be safe, but she'd been pretty listless for the duration of Tara's visit. She wasn't good, but she was tough. Pushing now would only make her retreat.

Tara reached across the tiny café table in the rented kitchen and squeezed Amour's too-thin forearm. "I'll get out of your hair, then. Just give me a minute to put the rest of these groceries away."

Amour glanced at the multiple brown paper bags from the upscale organic market across from the building where Tara worked. "You don't have to do that."

"You're not supposed to exert yourself," Tara tried gently, but Amour got up anyway.

"It's groceries. Believe me, I've handled way worse."

The reality of her words sank into Tara's bones. "How about we split it?" she asked, because screaming at the injustice seemed like a bad option. She'd already put all of the perishables in the fridge when she'd first arrived, anyway. Amour shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."

Taking on the heavy lifting, Tara pulled the last of the eight grocery bags she'd brought with her to the counter with a thunk. Her muscles had given her what-for as she'd loaded the bags onto the rolling cart she'd brought to transport everything to Amour's apartment in one go, then done an encore as she'd done the car to lobby to elevator to doorstep route. She'd had to take a very specific, somewhat circuitous path to make sure the building's security cameras caught her (and anyone who might follow her) every step of the way, but if it kept Amour safe, it would be worth it.

Speaking of which.

"I'm really glad you decided to stick with testifying against Sansone," she said, pulling a can of soup from the bag in front of her and sliding it into a cupboard.

"I don't want to," Amour replied flatly. "But if I don't and the case gets dismissed, he'll probably kill me anyway. He's not the kind of guy who leaves loose ends, you know? The best shot I have at not ending up dead is to testify. Even if I have to stay holed up until then."

Not one to mince words, Tara said, "You're probably right that it's the best way to stay safe in the long run, even though it seems counter-intuitive to testify after what he did. But he threatened you because he's scared of you. He only wants you to think he's got the control."

A dismissive noise crossed Amour's lips. "His guy seemed pretty in control when he did all this."

She gestured to her temple, where the mass of gauze had been reduced to a large adhesive bandage covering her wound. But oh, no. No. Thoughts like this were going to submarine Amour's strength,and she was going to need all of it to prep for this trial. "You're still stronger than him."

"You know Detective Garza brought me groceries like, the day I got here, right?" Amour asked, and even though Tara noticed the about-face in subject, she didn't call it out.

"Well, yes, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared with a little extra." Pointing to the bowl Amour had left on the table, she took aim at a grin. "Plus, I bet he didn't bring you any Double Belgian Chocolate Chip." That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. "He didn't."

"Okay, then. Now you have all the bases covered." Tara unloaded the rest of the contents from the bag in front of her before saying, "I guess the extra snacks are a little bit of a peace offering, too. I'm sorry I haven't been able to come out before now." Although Tara had spoken to Amour daily thanks to the secure-line magic Capelli had worked on the phone in the apartment, Sinclair had wanted the dust to settle before he allowed in-person visits from anyone other than the detectives on the case. Even then, those had been limited.

"It's all good," Amour said over a shrug. "I know you're busy working on the trial."

"Yes, but part of that is making sure you're okay, so..."

She trailed off expectantly until Amour had no choice but to respond. "I told you, I'm fine."

Tara's instincts gave up another hearty ping. But before she could put them to words, an oddly patterned knock sounded off on the door.

"Are you expecting anybody?" Tara asked, her heart doing an aerial backflip against her sternum.

"Oh, that's just Xander," Amour said, and funny, Tara's pulse only moved faster.

"How do you know?" And how was Amour already halfway to the door?

"We have a secret knock. He lives, like, a few doors down, so sometimes he comes to say hey. Make sure everything's cool over here. You know. Cop stuff."

Sooooo many things to unpack there. Tara went with safety first. "Let me double-check, just to be sure." Leaning in, she looked through the peephole, and sure enough, Xander stood on the other side just as easy (and hot) as you please, wearing jeans and a snug gray T-shirt and a half-smile that made Tara's libido go full tilt.

"Told you," Amour said. But she smiled as she said it, so Tara simply stepped back and let her open the door just wide enough to let Xander in, then shut it tight behind him.

"Hey, you." Xander lifted a brown paper bag as he greeted Amour. "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some-oh." His smile did an insta-fade as his gaze landed on Tara and widened. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company." Amour rolled her eyes, although not meanly. "It's okay, it's just Tara. She brought me some groceries and stuff."

"Sinclair said it would be okay if I stopped by now that Amour has been here for a week," Tara ventured. She'd seen Xander in passing at the Thirty-Third precinct over the last five days, but she hadn't had a chance to speak to him one on one since that night at the hospital when he'd calmed her down.

A.K.A, the night she'd stepped so close to him, they could've kissed.

Oh, how she'd wanted that kiss.

"Right," Xander said, and Tara blinked her way back from Fantasy Island. "Well, I just stopped by to drop this off. It's nothing fancy, just a Cuban sandwich." His stare moved over the empty bags just visible in the kitchen thanks to the combination of open concept/small space in the apartment, taking in the gourmet grocery store logo with a frown. "But I see you're already set, so I can just—"

"Are there onion rings in there like last time?" Amour asked, her eyes lighting up as she reached for the bag.

Xander's hesitation lasted for less than a second before he smiled. "Are you kidding me? Of course there are. The Crooked Angel's onion rings are practically a religious experience."

Amour took the bag, popping it open and taking a long inhale. "You're pretty cool for a cop. Just saying."

For the first time since before the assault, she looked like herself, her smile carefree and genuinely happy, and it hit Tara right in the center of her chest.

She didn't just look happy.

She looked alive.

"Thanks," Xander said, lifting his chin toward the kitchen. "Go eat before it gets cold. I'll check in on you again tomorrow, when I'm not intruding."

Tara's mouth opened out of pure impulse. "Actually, I was just on my way out, but I'd like to have a word with you privately if I could, Xander? It won't take long." Surprise flashed through his light green eyes, but he covered it with a quick, "Sure. My place is right down the hall. If that works?"

"Perfect."

They both said a quick goodbye to Amour and made sure she was securely locked in before Xander pulled his keys out of his pocket and led the way down the hall. He didn't say anything, waiting until they'd crossed the threshold to his apartment-a replica of Amour's in layout-to speak.

"Sorry it's a bit of a mess," he said, looking at the half-empty water bottle and two days' worth of mail on the coffee table and the pair of cross-trainers littering the floor by the couch. Before Tara could tell him it would take more than a little clutter to offend her, he continued. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

He was so just-business that Tara nearly balked. But what she wanted to say was too important to dismiss, and anyway, she wasn't really a back-down kind of woman. "I wanted to thank you for keeping such a close eye on Amour." Xander's brows lifted. "That's my job."

"Maybe the surveillance part," Tara conceded, although the partial was all he was going to get out of her. "But the check-ins and takeout food...I haven't seen her brighten up like that since before the assault, and if her over-stocked pantry is anything to go by, you're theonly one getting her to eat. So, thank you."

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he said, "It's no big deal," but oh, no. Tara wasn't about to let him slide.

"Could you please say 'you're welcome' so I don't have to keep pushing?" She wrapped just enough humor around the words to lighten them. "I've been in court all day and I'd love the breather."

Bingo. "You're welcome," Xander said with a smile that-whoa-made her want to blush. "So, how was court, by the way? I heard the meeting with the judge the other day was a bust."

Just like that, Tara's good humor faded. "It was what I thought it would be-Sansone's lawyer saying the assault had nothing to do with his client, Sansone providing an alibi, and Judge Waters asking me if I had any evidence linking Sansone to the assault, which I don't. Yet," she added. "But at least now the assault-and my suspicion that Sansone is involved-are both on record. And Judge Waters did agree that keeping Amour's identity hidden was a reasonable precaution. She also warned that if he is involved, she won't hesitate to revoke his bail, let my office add to the charges against him, and have him await trial from a prison cell."

"Do you think that will make him more cautious?" Xander asked, but Tara shook her head.

"I think he's got stones the size of Neptune. He knows our case against him hinges on Amour's testimony and he thinks he can scare her into silence because he's a bully. Even if he's backed into a corner, the only thing he'll get is meaner." Tara placed her hands on her hips, her fingers knotting over her navy blue pencil skirt. "But that's fine, because I'll be right here waiting for him when he does."

"You're pretty protective of Amour."

The thought of what could have been-what had been all those years ago-jabbed at her throat, making her heart pound faster and the words pour right out of her mouth. "I'm pretty protective of justice being done. Guys like Sansone hurt innocent people. People with families and friends and their whole lives ahead of them. But just like that"-she snapped-"all of that disappears. He wants to kill her, Xander, and he's killed who knows how many others. I won't let him get away with that."

For a minute that felt like an hour, or, hell, maybe a month, he looked at her with those wide green eyes that she couldn't read for the life of her. Then, he finally said, "That sounds like a story."

The ball was firmly in her court, Tara knew. She could tell him she was just passionate about her job, which was, oh, by the way, what she'd told everyone who'd ever made the same sort of observation. That's what she should do. Telling tough, strong Xander Matthews her story would only make her vulnerable.

So she really had no idea why, when she opened her mouth, the truth started tumbling out.

"When I was nineteen, my best friend, Lucas, and I decided to take a road trip for spring break. It was totally spur of the moment, but he was always coming up with crazy ideas like that."

"Best friend, not boyfriend?" Xander asked, walking to his kitchen like nothing-doing, and Tara followed.

"Yes. His family lived on the same street as mine and his dad and my mom worked for the same medical practice, so we pretty much grew up together. I'm an only child and Lucas was like a brother to me. I know it might sound weird, but I loved having someone who I could be that close with. Someone I could really confide in. He was always there, even on my ugly days. No matter what."

Opening the fridge, Xander slid two bottles of water off the shelf and passed one over to her wordlessly. "I'm tight with my sister. I get it."

Tara nodded. She remembered his sister, Kennedy, from the case against him that had eventually been dismissed. "Lucas and I both went to Remington University. He was pre-med. He wanted to be a plastic surgeon so he could help kids born with cleft palates and people who'd been hurt in accidents. It was so Lucas-he was just that kind of guy."

"What about you?" Xander led the way to the main living space, his movements as easy as the conversation as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"I was hopelessly undecided," Tara confessed. "My parents wanted me to choose something so I could 'have a career path. But I was barely nineteen, and I didn't want to choose something for the sake of being able to check a box. I wanted it to be important. Right." Xander was silent for a minute, his dark brows drawn in a way that told Tara he was processing her words. "That seems smart. I mean, college is expensive. Why waste all that money on something you're not sure of?"

"Or time," Tara said. It had been, as it turned out, the more precious commodity, one that had slipped right through her fingers as uncontrollably as Lucas's blood that night. God, there had been so much blood. Years later, and the dirty, metallic smell of it could still punch her in the back of the throat without warning.

Steeling herself against the tremble that wanted to commandeer her limbs, Tara continued, "Anyway, we'd had a pretty grueling week of midterms that second semester, so Lucas came up with this crazy idea to drive to Miami for spring break. We threw a bunch of clothes in a suitcase and left less than twenty minutes later. The plan was to drive through the night with both of us alternating, then sleep all day on the beach when we got there."

"I take it things didn't go according to the plan," Xander said quietly.

"No." A fragment of dread sliced through her, followed by the ache she knew like a fingerprint. "We'd been on the road for about four hours when we stopped for gas in Sanders Hill, South Carolina."

Xander shook his head, placing his unopened water bottle on the coffee table without his attention straying from her, even for a second. "Never heard of it."

"Not many people have. It's about forty miles from the Georgia state line, population 3,419. No Starbucks. No movie theater. But they do have a 24-hour gas station."

Tara's heart beat faster, adrenaline and fear racing each other in her veins. But she didn't stop. "I went inside with Lucas so I could use the restroom while he grabbed some snacks and paid for the gas. He..." She paused for a breath that did not steady her. "He teased me for being a lightweight and having to go so early in the trip."

Later, on those nights when she couldn't sleep, Tara would replay that moment a million times in her head, wondering how something so small and insignificant could spare her life as it stole her best friend's. "I went into the restroom. I was washing my hands a few minutes later when I heard a loud sound, like a firecracker. Then I heard it two more times in a row, really fast."

"Tara," Xander said, so quietly it could have been a whisper. "You don't have to tell me the rest."

Her eyes burned, but still, she shook her head. Somehow, she wanted to tell him, to set the story to words so he'd understand. "I ran out of the restroom just in time to hear the front door slam shut. I didn't understand what had happened-I thought maybe it had been some sort of prank. But then I got to the front of the store, and I saw Lucas on the floor. He'd been shot twice in the chest."

Tara had found out later that the third shot had hit the woman behind the counter right in the forehead. She'd died instantly. Lucas hadn't been so lucky.

Tara felt Xander's hand around hers, but she couldn't tell if he'd offered it or she'd sought it out. Either way, she curled her fingers around his and hung on. "There was so much blood. It was everywhere. I remember thinking he was going to be mad because his shirt was ruined. The dumb thing was his favorite." She released a joyless laugh. How utterly stupid she'd been, not to see it. Not to understand that she was the last thing her best friend would ever see. "It didn't occur to me that he would die. Not until he looked at me, anyway, and then, I knew. In all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen Lucas look truly scared. But right then? He was terrified."

Two tears tracked down her face, but Xander sat patiently, his hand warm and steady. "I called nine-one-one and pressed my hands over his chest. I told him everything would be okay. I begged him to keep his eyes open, to hang on. When he stopped breathing, I tried to do CPR, but..."

Xander held her hand tighter even though she couldn't say out loud that when she'd tried to do chest compressions and be Lucas's breath, he'd bled harder with every movement. "He coded on the way to the hospital and died before he could get to surgery. The robbery was pretty straightforward, all caught on the gas station's video feeds. The man who did it burst in just after Lucas and I got there. He didn't even hesitate to kill both the clerk and Lucas. It was honestly just a weird twist of fate that I was in the restroom. If he'd known I was, he'd probably have killed me, too."

"I'm so sorry all of that happened to you. And to Lucas," Xander said. "Did they catch the guy?"

"They did." A bitter taste filled Tara's mouth. "But the prosecuting attorneys botched the trial."

"He got off?" Xander asked, his jawline going tight.

Not as tight as her rib cage, though. "Yep. He spent sixty-three days in prison waiting for his trial, and then the case was dismissed because the video surveillance footage was thrown out on a technicality." She would never forget the sound of Lucas's mom's cries, deep and guttural with grief as the man who'd killed Lucas had smiled in relief.

Rather than go all awkward on her-or worse yet, throw her a black tie pity party-Xander shocked her by saying, "Shit, Tara. I don't know what to say. That's..."

"Pretty messed up and completely shitty?" she supplied. "Yeah, it is, and it took me a lot of therapy to be able to wrap my head around it."

"Post-traumatic stress is no joke," Xander said, his gaze dropping to thescar on his forearm. An unexpected warmth moved through her chest as she realized he wasn't just being a stand-up guy. He actually understood.

And somehow, that made feeling vulnerable in front of him so much easier.

"In a weird way, though, the whole thing ended up being not all bad. After I worked through the initial grief and guilt, I got good and pissed off. I didn't want that kind of injustice to happen to anyone else, so I went to law school and became the best lawyer I possibly could. I treat every case I take on as if it were Lucas's."

"That explains a lot." A wistful expression crossed Xander's face. But before Tara could apologize for how intently she'd pursued the charges against him two years ago, he grabbed her attention with, "So, whatever happened to the guy? Is he still running around free even though he killed two people?"

Ah, at least this part of the story was bittersweet. "Nope. He was stabbed to death in a drug deal that went sideways ten months after the trial. I thought I'd be happy about that-karma, and all. But in the end, it doesn't bring Lucas or that store clerk back. It doesn't make me miss my best friend any less."

Her voice betrayed her lack of calm, but just then, Xander was calm enough for both of them.

"That's definitely true. You can't undo the past. All you can do is move forward one step at a time. But you did that because you're a survivor. You went to law school and became a brilliant lawyer. You fight for people who can't get their own justice. People like Amour. It's pretty badass, when you think about it."

Tara took the words in, her pulse balancing back out and her adrenaline ebbing as she turned them over in her mind. She'd always felt the sting of what she'd lost, the guilt of the twist of fate that had spared her. It had never occurred to her that she was strong for having survived.

"I've definitely never thought about it that way," she admitted.

The edges of Xander's mouth lifted, just enough to ease the moment. "You should. You're like a lawyer warrior, doing battle in the name of justice."

Her laugh was soft, but oh, it felt so good. "You did it again, you know."

"Did what?"

"You totally took me out of my head," Tara said. "Just like you did last week, with that duck story."

He tilted his head, his smile still in place. "Guilty as charged. But I knew it was a hard story to tell, just like I knew you were pretty tense the other night."

"It was a really nice thing to do," she said.

Xander shrugged. "Ah, it's no big deal."

"Actually, it is a big deal. To me. So, thank you."

"Oh." His lashes swept wide, the dark fringe framing his light green stare. "You're welcome."

In that moment, Tara realized how close their bodies had gotten in the telling of her story. The brush of denim on her bare skin where their knees touched, right at the hemline of her skirt. The warm, steady hold of Xander's hand on hers. The space between her mouth and his that she could eliminate with a simple turn of her body, a lift of her chin that would let her give in to the magnetic pull she'd felt last week in the hospital lobby when she'd wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Only this time, there was nothing to stop them.