Out of Time. Shirlee McCoy

Too personal.

      “We’re old friends, reconnecting after years apart. That doesn’t mean we can’t be professionals doing our jobs, too.” He smiled, and Susannah wished she were as comfortable as he seemed.

      “There’s a lot at stake, and we can’t afford to be distracted.”

      “I think you know that neither of us could be distracted enough to let our work slide. What are you really afraid of, Susannah?”

      “Who said I’m afraid?”

      “You may not have said the words, but I see it in your eyes every time I look at you.”

      The words were a splash of ice water in the face—the knowledge that he could read her so easily, emphasizing how personal things with him could become.

      “I just want to make sure we understand each other.”

      “That would be a lot easier if you’d tell me what you’re really thinking.”

      “I’m thinking that I don’t need any more complications in my life. I’m thinking that is exactly what you are.”

      “A complication? I think I’m flattered.”

      “Don’t be. The past year had been tough. All I want is to get my life back to what it used to be.”

      “That may not be possible.”

      “Why do you stay that?” She glanced his way, saw that he was staring straight ahead.

      “Certain things in our lives happen, and they change us forever.”

      It was true.

      She knew it.

      But that didn’t mean she wanted to admit it. Not to him. Maybe even not to herself.

      “Like I said, I want to keep things professional between us.”

      “You’re changing the subject.”

      “Maybe I am.” She took out her key, hurrying the last few steps to the Alamo.

      To his credit, Levi didn’t press for more. Just followed her into the chapel, his silence weighted and heavy.

      “We’d better get to work. The rest of the Alamo Rangers will be here soon, and I’d like to finish before they arrive.” She spoke into the tension, hoping to ease it as she walked into the office and opened a file cabinet.

      She could feel the weight of Levi’s stare as she spread a map out on the desk, but she didn’t turn to meet his gaze.

      He’d been right when he’d said she was afraid. Of him. Of what she felt when she was with him.

      Because she really didn’t need complications in her life, and she really didn’t want them.

      But Levi—he was different.

      An old friend.

      And when she was with him, she felt safe.

      She scowled, jabbing at the map. “Each of the Alamo gates is marked. As I told you last night, we plan to have an Alamo Ranger stationed at each one. The garden area is to the west of the chapel. Our guests will walk in at the chapel, follow the path around to the gardens and be seated by paid ushers.”

      “They’re vetted?” He moved close, apparently willing to switch gears.

      “The ushers? Of course. The Alamo Planning Committee hired them, and we did background checks on all of them.”

      “I’d like a list of names.”

      “It’s in the folder. All our preparations are documented.” She handed him the folder she’d put together. Professional, together, ready to do the job. That’s the impression she wanted to give, and she relaxed as Levi glanced through the information.

      “This looks great. Will there be caterers on-site? Drinks served?”

      “No. As I’m sure you know, there’s a luncheon planned at the River Walk Hotel as soon as the ceremony ends. I was told your people were responsible for escorting and protecting our guests once they leave the compound.”

      “We have a team set up.”

      “Some of the VIPs have their own security, too.” The vice president would come with secret service agents and leave with them. The governor would do the same.

      “My office is working closely with theirs to make sure all the security details are in place. Coming, going and everything in between.” He frowned, circling the long barracks with his finger. “You’ve got a lot of places for people and things to hide. We’ll be bringing in dogs to sniff for explosives the morning of, but we’ll want to be even more cautious than usual during the days preceding the event.” He was all business, and Susannah was relieved, glad to immerse herself in plans.

      “We can have more security officers on-site during that time.”

      “Your boss will approve?”

      “He’s given me free rein to make decisions for the team. I’ll run it by him after the meeting, but I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”

      “He must have a lot of faith in you.”

      “I have more seniority than most of our security crew.”

      “How long have you been here?”

      “Four years.”

      “And the person with least tenure?”

      “Six months.” Marcus Portman had been brought in part-time while Susannah recovered from her injuries. His work ethic and willingness to take any shift had helped him move from part-time to full-time within a month of being hired.

      “And he’s fully vetted?”

      “Of course.”

      “Anyone on the team you don’t trust? Anyone with money problems? Gambling troubles? Drug use?”

      “I trust all my coworkers, but I can’t say I know them all well. We have yearly reviews and criminal background checks every two years.”

      “And you gave me a list of all the Alamo Rangers who will be working March 6, right?” His brow furrowed as he rifled through the folder.

      “It’s here.” Susannah pulled out the last sheet, holding it out to Levi, her eyes widening as he snagged her hand instead of the paper. He turned it over, traced the scar with his finger.

      “That was quite a cut.”

      “It was.” She tugged her hand away, resisting the urge to hide it behind her back.

      “A defensive wound?” he asked, but he didn’t need to. Susannah was sure he’d seen dozens of wounds just like it.

      “Yes.”

      “Are you going to make me keep asking questions until I come up with one you’re willing to answer, or are you going to go ahead and tell me what I want to know?”

      “What do you want to know, Levi? How many times I was stabbed? How many times Aaron choked me into unconsciousness? How I managed to survive after he sliced open my stomach?” The words spilled out, her frustration spilling out with it. Not frustration with Levi. Frustration with herself, with her scars, with the sick feeling of dread that came every time she talked about that night.

      “It’s a good thing he’s dead, because if he wasn’t, I’d kill him.” The rage in Levi’s voice took her by surprise, the heat blazing from his eyes, cooling her temper.

      “He was sick. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing.”

      “No amount of sickness can excuse this.” Levi grabbed her hand, touched the scar again, his finger so gentle, tears welled up in her eyes.

      She blinked them away.

      “You’re right,