Out of Reach (Can't Help Falling Book 2) Read online

  Out of Reach

  CAN'T HELP FALLING, BOOK 2

  Lauren Giordano

  Harvest Moon Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  OUT OF REACH

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright 2017, Lauren Giordano

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be re-sold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book, please do so through proper retail channels. Thank you for respecting this author's hard work. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author. This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners of all branded names referenced without TM, SM or (R) symbols due to formatting constraints and is not claiming ownership or collaboration with said trademark brands.

  Created with Vellum

  CAN’T HELP FALLING Series

  Book 1: Out of the Mist

  Book 2: Out of Reach

  Book 3: Out on a Limb (Autumn, 2017)

  Book 4: Out of the Storm (Winter, 2018)

  Out of Reasons . . .

  Member of an elite Army Ranger squad specializing in black ops, Teagan 'TJ' O'Brien has traveled halfway around the world, returning home to Boston before another dangerous tour of duty. Discovering a beautiful squatter in his apartment after a sixteen hour flight is simply . . . unacceptable.

  When Teagan breaks down the door, Alyssa Barnes' memories come flooding back. One horrible, amazing night she's never managed to erase-- ending with Teagan’s leap from her bedroom window. Now, she'll be forced to rely on the proven flight risk to catch the stalker who wants her out of the picture.

  TJ's best friend had extracted only one promise-- stay away from his sister. Maintaining several continents between them has worked just fine. When their paths unexpectedly cross again, he wants to believe it's only to keep Alyssa safe. Because hunting a stalker is easier than resisting the woman he left behind.

  Chapter 1

  Please, God. "Just one tiny space." Hands slick with perspiration, Alyssa Barnes clutched the steering wheel, forcing back rising panic. Now on lap six, she was willing to scrape a fender. She glanced longingly at the brownstone sanctuary as it flashed by again, reassuring light spilling from sturdy windows, the imposing grandeur whispering you'll be safe here. Through countless Boston nor'easters it had stood unscathed.

  One damned person. To run out for milk. Tampons. Anything. "Someone get a pizza," she muttered, desperation beginning to fog the windows in her claustrophobic car. A thick cloud cover made the shadowed night even darker. Teeth working her lip, she startled when she tasted blood. Hold it together, Barnes.

  She circled the block again. "Two more," she negotiated. Releasing a shaky breath, she acknowledged the need to pee. In a wrestling match with a knotted, empty stomach, her bladder was winning. "If you don't find a spot-- you'll walk. And nothing will happen."

  Lap seven. "No one knows about this place." It was off the radar. Matt's rental was safe. It had to be. She couldn't go home.A shiver tremored through her. She didn't want to endanger Mom and Sean. "You could call Sean," she conceded. Her mother's boyfriend would know what to do. There was nowhere else to-

  Clammy with sweat, she jerked the wheel into the space that hadn't been there four minutes earlier. "Thank you, God." Relief made her lightheaded as she gathered her purse and briefcase. Now . . . she just had to make it inside.

  Damn. She'd circled the block fifty times. Camouflaged by the cluster of sycamores, he shook his head. A missed opportunity. She was distracted. Afraid. Working herself up to paranoid. Not bad-- but not enough. He wanted her desperate. Erratic. Losing her shit. When Little Miss Reliable finally snapped, he wanted her running. AWOL from work. When she was finally went missing, he wanted co-workers commenting how much she'd changed in recent weeks . . .

  Until then, he was relegated to waiting. Watching. Dicking her around until she crumbled. His orders: no trace. When she made a run for it, he could finish this. Somewhere isolated. Low traffic. He knew the perfect location. He scratched his beard and smiled. If they ever found her . . . there wouldn't be much left.

  He checked his watch. Thirty minutes 'til sit-rep. His vantage point provided a clear view as she exited her car. Approaching him, she glanced over her shoulder, clutching her briefcase like a shield. Not gonna help, babe. He smothered a chuckle when she tripped on the curb. His gaze tracked her as she stumbled up the walk to the ivy-covered brownstone and disappeared inside. He waited until a light winked on in the empty apartment upstairs. Six minutes. “The elevator must be out again.”

  People were so predictable. She might last a week in her brother's empty rental . . . maybe less if he stepped things up. How many more places could she run?

  A quiet stillness greeted her as Alyssa dropped her key in the bowl in the darkened foyer, muting the panic tremoring through her. "You're safe-- for now." She avoided glancing to the windows. The previous night she'd sat in the dark, engaging her paranoia. Staring out the windows at . . . nothing. She'd wasted an hour . . . believing someone was out there. But everything looked suspicious in the dark. Especially when she didn't know what she was looking for.

  Dinner. Netflix. Bed. Stifling a chuckle, she released a steadying sigh as her control slowly returned. Win a dream date with Alyssa Barnes! "What a catch."

  A warm shower and two glasses of wine later, she collapsed on the couch. Shivering from nerves, she tugged a blanket over her shoulders. Tomorrow, she'd pick up a few groceries. During daylight. She could park close if she was home by four. But what about work days-- when her hours stretched into the night?

  Maybe go to Mom's? "Yeah-- lead the danger right to them." She toasted her brilliance with another sip, her thoughts drifting to what she was missing. This was the week she'd promised to babysit for Matt and Julie. Her brother's DEA conference in Hawaii meant a precious week with her nephew. She smirked at the thought of her brother and Jules in a tropical paradise. Aside from calling six times a day checking on baby TJ, Matt's idea of a vacation likely consisted of sleeping around the clock to chip away at their six month sleep deficit, with an occasional effort toward baby number two.

  Stifling a yawn, Alyssa flipped through several days worth of mail she'd crammed in her backpack. The manila envelope received a second glance before she tossed it aside, too distracted to concentrate on anything.

  Giving in to the urge to wallow, she set her wine glass aside and grabbed the bottle. When she agreed to babysit a month earlier, the thought of a week with her nephew had her eagerly counting the days. Her heart had been captured by a drooling, blue-eyed six-month-old in a way no adult male had in the last decade.

  And she was missing it. Alyssa chugged from the cheap merlot. She could've been there now-- cuddling her adorable nephew. Instead, she was hiding. In an empty apartment filmed in dust. A beautiful, empty apartment. Tilting her head, she admired the intricate pattern on the tin ceiling. Matt's rental held all the Victor
ian charm her cookie-cutter apartment lacked. Her broken-into-twice cookie cutter apartment . . .

  Her gaze turned to the stained glass windows but the transoms blurred to watercolors as her eyes filled again. She'd wanted to avoid the obvious conclusion. Had pleaded; prayed; argued with herself to ignore the similarities. But they were there-- knotting her stomach. Prickling the back of her neck. Whispering in her ear. He was back.

  Her mother and Sean had taken over the babysitting gig. She'd lied-- telling them Mayor Robbins needed her to work this weekend. Alyssa sniffed loudly, breaking the heavy stillness. "You can't cry." Her watery voice broke as she gave in to the week-long urge to lose it. With no witnesses, a meltdown didn't technically count.

  The scrape of a key in the lock sent her pulse into overdrive. Panic launched her from the couch, sending the mail flying. Gaze locked on the door, her heart leaped to her throat. Had he found her again?

  Fighting the slithering chill of panic, she crossed the room at a run. Could she move the heavy foyer table? Was there time? As quietly as possible, she re-locked the deadbolt. On the other side of the oaken barrier, someone was breathing hard from the four flight climb. The elevator had been out again.

  "What the hell-"

  The peephole confirmed her intruder was bent over the lock, examining it closely.

  His annoyance carried through the door as he unlocked the deadbolt again. Alyssa threw the bolt again, before glancing back through the living room. With a clarity borne of fear, her brain calculated the time it would take to sprint all the way back to the kitchen where she'd left her phone.

  Keep an eye on the intruder? Or call the police and barricade herself in the guestroom? Could she use the fire escape? Do something, Alyssa.

  "Who's in there?" The stranger unlocked the deadbolt for the third time and pushed the door before she could flip the lock. All that remained in the two inch zone between them was a flimsy chain. A large, masculine hand slipped through the space created by the chain, clearly intent on slipping it free. Heart careening off the wall of her chest, Alyssa's legs finally made the decision for her paralyzed brain.

  Close the damned door.

  She reached it just as the intruder's fingers began coaxing the chain along the slide. In stark contrast to her mounting terror, a low, husky, reasonable? voice complained about the inconvenience he was suffering at the end of a long trip. As he finessed the last, fragile barrier, she flung herself against the door and heard a howl of agony. When he shoved hard from the other side, the force of his strength knocked her back against the umbrella stand. Unrelenting, she threw her shoulder back against the door. Through the paneled wood under her ear, his reasonableness had shifted to a pain-laced string of profanity. When his trapped hand flailed against her breast, she shrieked in protest.

  And sank her teeth into a thick, callused finger.

  Alyssa heard him shout before he wrenched free and sent her tumbling to the slate tiles. Stifling a moan when her butt connected with the stone floor, she watched helplessly as the trespasser's fingers snapped the chain free and the door swung open.

  "Who the hell are you?"

  She snatched an umbrella from the stand leaning drunkenly against the wall and scrambled to her feet. "Stay back. The police are on their way," she lied. Clamping her teeth together to keep from shivering, she parried with the umbrella, prepared to thrust it into the giant's ribs if necessary.

  Dear sweet God, she was in trouble. Alyssa's gaze slid to the door. In his anger, the intruder had kicked it wide open.

  She could escape.

  Go for help.

  Mrs. Coletti was one floor down. But that meant . . . leaving her keys. Phone. Money. Hell-- shoes.

  Lord, he was huge . . . and hairy. Her stomach recoiled at the memory of another bearded stranger-- her limbs momentarily paralyzed. Not helping, her brain shrieked. She slammed her mind back into focus.

  "I may not be able to kill you. . ." She jabbed the air between them. Could it be the same guy? Had he found her already? "But I'll make damn sure you're bleeding internally before I finish." Her bravado appeared to be lost on him. The giant simply stood there . . . dumbfounded, clutching his forearm with a large hand.

  She tried again. "Leave quietly . . . before someone gets hurt."

  Advancing another step into the foyer, he dropped a monstrous canvas duffel to the floor. If she hadn't been terrified, Alyssa would've sworn a cloud of dust bloomed from the bag.

  Gray eyes glared at her from a thicket of dark, curly hair. "Fourteen months in the desert and not a friggin' scratch. Two minutes in my doorway and you've jammed my wrist."

  His door- Did he think she was a moron? "Nice try."

  "I know where I live." When he took a step closer Alyssa raised the umbrella to chest level.

  "Another step and this will be lodged in your chest," she warned.

  "Can we negotiate a truce?" He raked a hand through the tumbleweed hair. "Obviously, there's been a mistake-"

  She glanced beyond him to the empty, silent hallway. Why was there never a nosy neighbor around when you needed one? "I don't want to hurt you . . ."

  "Seriously?" TJ raised his gaze to the ceiling and prayed for patience. The patina on his refurbished tin ceiling sent pleasure streaming through him. Finally, something familiar. Fourteen months he'd waited for-- hell, he'd dreamed of walking through that door.

  After humping halfway around the world, he was thirty feet from the bed he hadn't slept in for more than a year. Any other time and he probably could have found the situation funny. A spiky-haired midget . . . Like the first line to a bad joke. A spiky haired midget with an umbrella was preventing him from entering his apartment. With a raspy, sexy voice that reminded him . . . Jeez-- how many years had it been since he'd thought of her? "This is my apartment."

  "You have the wrong floor. Next time try a designated driver."

  He eyed the nearly empty wine bottle on the-- on his coffee table. "I think maybe it's you who's been drinking." Just what he needed-- a drunk, squatting pixie copping an attitude. A scary thought flashed through his sleep-deprived brain. If Matt had sublet his place, TJ would strangle him with the one good hand he had left. His gaze shifted from flashing sapphire eyes to his bleeding finger. "You up to date on all your shots there, Sheba?"

  Her spine stiffened-- and hell if she didn't take a step closer, tightening an already white-knuckled grip on her umbrella. The flutter of activity behind her eyes suggested she was contemplating braining him with it.

  "Who do you think you're talking to, Shaggy?"

  She broke off, startled when her phone pinged from somewhere in the kitchen. His kitchen.

  "That's probably the police."

  Liar. Her nervous glance gave her away. "Maybe you should answer it." TJ's frustration lessened only slightly when he acknowledged her expression held a healthy dose of fear. "I can call the cops, too, you know."

  Cradling his useless arm, he kicked the duffel far enough into the foyer so he could close the door. He wondered how long she'd been squatting in his apartment. Why hadn't Matt been checking on it?

  "I'm not leaving a stranger in the living room," Blue Eyes announced, umbrella clutched like a damned sword.

  Torn between the desire for her phone and the need to monitor the strange guy in the living room, she backed her way across the room, her brain clearly on fire plotting her next move.

  Fatigue crested over him like a tidal wave. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was thinking. Pixie would grab her phone and lock herself in the bedroom. His bedroom. Where he wanted to collapse so badly he could practically feel the mattress. Sleep was a drug he craved. Hell, he’d fantasized about the smell of crisp, cotton sheets. Which-- hopefully he'd changed before the last time he left.

  "Who are you?"

  In that moment, he forgot the twin teeth marks embedded in his throbbing finger and ignored the jolting wash of pain in his wrist that had sweat breaking out on his upper lip. She
was trembling with reaction. All because he'd scared the bejeezus out of her.

  "Name's O'Brien." He muttered, softening his stance in the vain hope it might speed the process on getting her the hell out of his place. Fair or not-- ridiculous or not-- he'd been on a military transport for the last sixteen hours. If she dragged the cops out here . . . he may as well kiss off the rest of the night. It was bad enough he'd have to splint his arm and bandage his finger where she'd taken a chunk out of him before he could finally crash-- likely on the damn sofa-- the way his luck appeared to be running. But messing with the cops would take hours. "There's a phone on the dresser in the front bedroom. Cops are on speed dial . . . number 3, in case you're interested."

  Pixie froze in her tracks. "How do you-"

  "4B is my apartment." TJ suspected the conversation should be making more sense, but his brain was clouding faster than a desert sandstorm.

  "It can't be."

  TJ read the sudden flash of inspiration in her eyes. "You wanna see some ID before you go callin' the cops?"

  She took a step closer, umbrella still levelled at his chest.

  He bit back a smile. She was the essence of wild contrasts-- all big eyes and sexy hair. Smelling better than anything his nose had come in contact with for a year. But that bar had been set pretty low. Though he had her by a foot in height, she’d brought him to his knees when she sank her teeth into his finger. Although she'd only managed that miracle, he felt the urge to quantify, because she'd caught him off guard. Still, you had to admire a woman with canines like a Rottweiler.

  "My brother-"

  The husky little catch in her voice crawled down his spine. Again, he experienced a flash of familiarity as she cautiously approached. When she'd attacked, her eyes had burned like molten sapphires. Now, they reminded him more of the dusky, purple violets Mama Lou grew on the windowsill.