Page 1 of Protected from Malice (Blade and Arrow Shadow Team #1)

EDEN

I wish I wasn’t afraid to walk alone in the dark.

It’s not a unique situation. Plenty of women feel the same as me.

The instant we find ourselves alone in a darkened parking lot or a stretch of empty sidewalk at night, our bodies kick into high alert.

Prickles of unease at the back of our neck, breath quickening, heart racing—all the while telling ourselves firmly, It’s fine.

No one is out there, coming to get you. Those strange sounds that might be footsteps are all in your head.

I know that’s how other women feel, because I’ve heard them say it. My coworkers. The women I talk to at the gym. My best friend, Zada, who lives in Queens and never leaves her apartment without pepper spray and a safety alarm.

Is it fair?

No. Not even close to it.

It’s not fair that my brother can walk anywhere he wants without the slightest concern for his safety, while I’m standing at the back exit of the building, waiting for someone to come by so I can walk out to the parking lot with them.

It’s not fair that I get nervous going to the grocery store after dark, always making sure to park as close to the entrance as possible, and hopefully, beneath a streetlight.

And it’s really not fair that I never used to think I needed pepper spray and a taser.

I thought—naively—that those stories I saw on the news couldn’t happen to me.

Now?

Now I’m not sure if pepper spray and a taser is enough.

And even though I can see my car from here, only two rows away, I’m still standing by the door, waiting.

I’m frustrated with myself for not being brave enough to just go for it.

It wouldn’t take that long to get there. Less than a minute. Surely it would be fine. Right?

But the instant my foot moves towards the door, my pulse races. My muscles lock up.

So I wait instead.

To take my mind off things, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to my brother.

Hey. Just about to leave work and thought I’d check in. How are things in DC? And how’s the new job?

I haven’t spoken to Indy in almost a week, which is longer than I’d like.

Before—back when he was still in the Army and often gone for weeks at a time overseas—I worried, but I knew his team had his back.

Men I’d met, liked, trusted; men I knew would do anything in their power to make sure my brother returned home safely.

And they did. Mostly. They did all they could, at least.

As I wait for Indy to respond, I scan the hallway again while mentally cursing myself for staying so late.

I don’t usually. Usually, I leave around five, when everyone else does, and it’s no problem to find someone to walk out to my car with.

But I got caught up in my research and by the time I even thought to look at the time, it was already well past eight.

Past dark, past the mass exodus of employees leaving Langworthy Pharmaceuticals, which is why I’m stuck here waiting for another straggler-workaholic like me to come by.

My phone chimes, drawing my attention back to it. Indy’s name blinks onto the screen, along with his reply.

Isn’t it late for you to be leaving work?

Nodding absently in agreement, I tap out a quick response.

A little. I’m getting my project ready for the IND application, so I’ve been extra busy with it. If the application is approved, that means we get to move on to clinical trials. But don’t worry. I’m waiting for someone to walk out to the parking lot with me.

The three dots blink for a few seconds before his next message appears.

Ok. Good. You can never be too careful.

My stomach wrenches into a knot. A sick feeling sweeps over me.

He’s just saying what any concerned older brother would.

But if he actually knew the truth behind it…

Another text pops onto the screen.

Things are fine here. It’s getting warmer, which is nice. The job is… okay. I’m just sitting behind a desk, watching the mall security cameras and radioing the guards if I see anything suspicious. Not very exciting. But it’s money. So that’s something.

I frown at my phone as I try to come up with a good response.

I wish he sounded happier about his first job since leaving the Army.

I wish he sounded happier, period. But I guess, compared to how down Indy was before, this is progress.

Rather than coming up with something placating to say about the job he clearly doesn’t like, I try to focus on something more positive.

Since it’s getting warmer, maybe you can get out to do some hiking or something. Some of the parks around DC are supposed to be nice. And I was thinking I could come out to visit once I get this application sent out. Or you could come here. See my new house.

The three dots blink longer this time.

Not sure about hiking.

I don’t have any time off for at least a few months. But I’d love to have you visit .

A heavy sigh escapes. Indy hasn’t come to visit me since before everything happened.

Before, he’d visit whenever he could, often with at least one of his teammates in tow.

We’d all hang out, order pizza and drink beer, I’d hear some of their less-scary stories, and Indy would always take me out for a fancy meal before he left.

Now?

It’s different.

He’s different.

I’m different.

Unexpectedly, my eyes burn.

My nose tingles.

Crud.

I can’t be seen crying at work. Or even close to it.

Not only is it totally unprofessional, but somehow it’ll get twisted into something it’s not.

If the wrong person sees me crying, it’ll be all over the department by tomorrow.

Eden Garrison’s research is tanking. The potentially groundbreaking treatment she’s working on will never make it to trials.

The company made a huge mistake dumping so much money into her project.

It’s not tanking. Not even close. Honestly, it’s the only thing in my life I feel good about right now.

But I’m not saying all that to Indy.

Just as I’m about to compose a reply, a familiar voice calls down the hallway, “Eden. What are you still doing here?”

Sliding my phone back into my bag, I turn to face Adam Waters, another researcher who works in the same wing of the building as me. He’s working on a different project—one focused on developing a new treatment for Type 1 diabetes—but I run into him pretty regularly.

And he definitely fits the bill for a safe person to walk outside with.

Not big and muscular and intimidating, like my brother and his former teammates, but still tall enough to make a possible attacker think twice.

Plus, Adam is about as harmless as you can get.

He goes to Renaissance fairs and does LARPing on the weekends with his very sweet girlfriend, and I’d bet a lot of money that he’d never even dream of hurting a woman.

“Lost track of time,” I reply with a rueful smile. “Trying to get everything in order before submitting for trials. You know how it is.”

Adam nods. “Tell me about it. We’re still a few months out at least. Hopefully—” He shrugs. “Things are looking good so far, at least.”

“Glad to hear that.” I glance back out at the darkened parking lot. “So… you heading out now?”

Understanding fills his eyes. “Oh, yes. You want to walk out together?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Even as I say it, a niggle of frustration worms its way in.

I wish I didn’t have to wait like this.

I wish I could be brave enough to go out on my own.

“After you,” Adam says as he opens the door, gesturing for me to walk out before him. Which is kind of the opposite of what I’d prefer, but in this case, beggars can’t be choosers.

As I walk outside, I adjust my cardigan, pulling the front closed against the crisp chill of the evening breeze.

With it being the beginning of April, the Portland weather is really too cold to go without a coat at night.

But after months of bundling up, all it took was the promise of a sunny day for me to bypass my coat for something more spring-like.

In the warmth of the morning sun, my new lavender cardigan seemed like a good idea. Now, with the cold air cutting through the cotton fabric, sending a rush of goosebumps across my body, I’m seriously regretting my choice of outfit.

Back to coats it is. At least for another month or so.

While we walk the short distance to my car, Adam rambles on about his upcoming LARP event, which is apparently supposed to be one of the biggest ones in the Portland area.

“So, I’m going to be a dark wizard this time,” he tells me, his voice bright with enthusiasm.

“And Wendy—my girlfriend—is going to be a mystic mage. Usually those two classes don’t work together, since a mystic mage is good-aligned, and… ”

My phone chimes from my purse, so I slip it out and give the screen a quick glance while saying, “That sounds fun. It’s so great you and Wendy have so many things in common.”

Indy’s newest message lights up my screen.

I’m going to grab some dinner and watch some TV. I’ll call soon. Love you.

And darn it, there’s that prickly feeling in my nose again.

If only Indy would move out here instead of staying in DC. He doesn’t need to be there anymore, now that the majority of his rehab is over. He could find a doctor out here. A new physical therapist. He could stay with me, or I could help him find an apartment nearby.

But he won’t. I’ve asked.

All he says is some variation of the same thing.

I have my medical team out here. I already have an apartment. I don’t want to interfere with your life, Eden. And in his lowest moments— I’m just not that great to be around right now.

I know he can’t go back to how he used to be. And I know I need to be patient with him.

But I miss my brother.

“Okay, you good from here?” Adam asks once we reach my car. He gives the interior of the hatchback a cursory glance. “Looks all clear.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I assure him. “Thanks for walking me out.” As I unlock the car door and get in, I add, “Enjoy the rest of your night. See you tomorrow.”