Free Arms of Promise by Crystal Walton Page B

trying to peer into the tinted glass. Anna was tripping him up more than she should. He never let someone sneak up on him.
    A quick glance back caught Anna and the guy disappearing around the corner. Evan’s stomach twisted at the thought of him walking her to her door. Or worse, going inside with her.
    Boxing out the image, Evan rolled the window partway down. “This isn’t the best time, Marissa.”
    Headlights circled past them as the black Escalade turned the bend and careened in the opposite direction. Evan’s hand sloped down the face of the steering wheel. At least he still had GPS on them.
    “No time like the present.” Marissa hiccupped. “Isn’t that what you always say? Or is it some Ranger motto. I can’t remember.” An airy giggle flittered into the car.
    Was she drunk? Releasing a hard breath, he stashed his gun in the glove box, unlocked the door, and pushed it open for her.
    Marissa sank onto the seat as if relieved to be off her feet. “You soldiers think you have it tough, but woo, I’m telling you. Girls . . .” She slid off her heels. “ We’re the real warriors.”
    Warrior? Wasted and in an outfit that left little to the imagination, she could convince most any guy on this block to call her whatever she wanted. But all he felt was pity.
    He’d tried with her. Tried to talk himself into being in a relationship. But she wasn’t Anna. No one ever would be. He had his training, his missions. There was no point looking for anything else. He knew better than to complicate his path.
    “You know what? You’re right. No time like the present. We need to talk.”
    An alcohol-infused laugh trickled from Marissa’s glossed lips. “So serious,” she said in a baby voice while cupping his cheek. “Lighten up. The night’s still young.”
    Keeping his calm, Evan transferred her hand to her lap. “What are you doing out this late?”
    She lifted a finger to her mouth. “Shh . . .” The slurred noise intensified the stench of alcohol already overtaking the car. “I’m undercover.”
    If he hadn’t grown up with a drunkard as a poor excuse for a father, he might’ve been tempted to throw back a few brews himself right about now. “Undercover for what?”
    “Uh-uh-uh.” She wagged a finger at him. “We said we’d never kiss and tell, remember?” Grinning, Marissa pressed the same finger into his bicep and leaned against it for balance. “ You have your classified missions.” She waved the finger back in her general direction. “And I have mine.”
    Evan gritted his teeth.
    She must’ve noticed his lack of amusement. Wiggling up in the seat, she smoothed out her silky shirt and her expression. “C’mon, Evan. You didn’t really think I was going to sit in my hotel all week, pining for you while you’re out romping around, did you? I’m a journalist. I’m going to be wherever I can find a story. And let me tell ya. I’m working on a big one.”
    She flipped down the visor, popped open the mirror cover, and tweaked her makeup with her fingertips. “You understand the need to be in action better than anyone. That’s why this thing we have between us works.”
    A devilish grin flashed his way. “Ooh. Speaking of action. We’re going to a gala on Wednesday. Make sure you rent a tux. People here might not know my name yet, but they’ll sure remember the power couple who walks in and steals the show.”
    Evan cupped her shoulders and moved her back into the seat before she got close enough to kiss him. Visuals of that guy sliding his hand over Anna’s back snaked through his mind again.
    Marissa fumbled around the door panel for the handle.
    Evan clicked the lock button. He might not want to be around her, but he wasn’t going to let her stumble down the street in a drunken stupor, either.
    Marissa’s laugh merged into a sigh against the window. She dragged her fingertips along the breath mark left on the glass.
    He reached over to buckle her in. “I think it’s time to call