“How long were you with him?”
“Uh …” Her brow furrows and she hesitates, pulling a hand through her hair. “Four months.”
“Quick engagement.”
“Yeah,” she says. “It was.”
Her short answers make me stumble. “You know you’re gonna have to talk to me, yeah? Can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with here.”
The color drains from her face, and she shifts in her seat nervously.
“I can’t pay you,” she whispers. “I mean I can, when it’s over. When I can get back home again.”
“I ain’t doing this for money, darlin’,” I admit, surprising myself by how much I mean those words.
She gives me that look again. Shock and awe. Like I’m some kind of superhero. “Then why are you?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I haven’t really thought any of this out, but when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
Elena
I blink and blink again. He’s not doing this for money. He hasn’t thought this out. His confessions leave me at a loss.
The air in the car is charged with a nervous energy and scented with his rich, woodsy cologne. My heart is pounding, keeping my exhaustion at bay.
A part of me can’t believe that this is even happening, that he’s really going to help me just because he wants to. It feels unreal, like a dream, and at any moment, I’m going to wake up and find myself shivering and alone in my tent somewhere.
“I hope you still feel that way after you think this out,” I whisper.
A muscle jumps in his jaw and he reaches over, taking my hand in his. He squeezes, just a light, reassuring squeeze, and although he doesn’t say a word, that squeeze says enough.
A feeling hits me, a really good one. It quivers through me, spreading over my skin in a burst of warmth, and I squeeze back, a silent thank you.
I expect him to let go, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rests our joined hands on my thigh. I feel the pad of his thumb stroking up and down my wrist. I can’t explain it, but the lazy swoop of his thumb causes a whole new shuddery-shivery feeling to tear through me like a shot of adrenaline.
I look down at our clasped hands, and my entire body focuses on the spots where we’re touching. His hand is warm, rough, calloused, engulfing mine, and his thumb continues its lazy trail along the sensitive skin, heating it, licking like flames.
“Um … Where are we going?” I ask a little breathlessly.
His head angles my way while still keeping his partial gaze on the road. One of his incredible dimples shows with his smile. “My place for now,” he says, in a deep, toe-curling voice. His smile slowly fades and his gaze warms. “We can figure the next step out after we get some sleep, yeah?”
My breath catches. His place. We’re going to his place. My heart pounds faster as I sit motionless in my seat, my body hyperaware of his closeness. I can feel his gaze watching me and I get the feeling that he doesn’t miss much that goes on around him.
My cheeks flush, and I quickly bob my head up and down. “Okay.”
Ugh, my voice sounds squeaky and raw. I cringe. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. He is not taking me home. He’s just giving me a place to crash for the day. That’s it.
Jason doesn’t miss the squeak in my voice. He probably doesn’t miss my flaming cheeks, either. His lips are pressed together in a firm line, but I can see the dimples again. And his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.
My cheeks flush hotter. I’m mortified. I feel like a total fool, sitting here, while he fights to suppress his amusement at my reaction. I start to pull my hand from his, but he doesn’t let me.
“Maybe you should have kept that Taser,” he says on a chuckle.
“Yeah,” I say, laughing at myself. “Maybe I should have.”
It takes us another ten minutes to reach his house. I spend the time staring out the window, trying and failing to not think about what happened over the last several hours.
By the time he pulls into a driveway, my nervous energy is gone and all I feel is drained. Physically and emotionally drained.
Jason pulls his car right up to the two-car garage, slips it into park, and turns off the engine. He gives my hand another light squeeze before letting it go, and he folds himself out.
He doesn’t give me a chance to hesitate, coming around the car and opening my door. He holds out a hand and I take it, climbing out.
As soon as I do, I catch sight of Wes shutting my car door. He walks past us, barely even looking our way as he tosses my keys to Jason and grumbles something about needing sleep and the couch, before disappearing into the house.
“You want anything from your car?” Jason asks, already walking toward it.
I shiver. I’m not sure if it’s from overtiredness or the fact that I’m about to sleep in Jason Pierce’s house. A man who in the last few hours has made my heart pound and my skin flush for several different reasons, and not all of them pleasant.
My heart starts pounding so hard that I’m scared he can hear it.
“Um, yeah, my bag and I …” I stall for a second, hesitating, and drop my eyes to the ground. “I have a tent so I can just set it up in your backyard. I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t want to be a problem.”
Jason laughs and his dimples come out in full force. “You’re not sleeping in a tent, darlin’.”
“It’s … it’s really not a problem,” I say, stammering a bit. “I’ve camped out a lot over the last year.”
He shakes his head and laughs again. “You’ll stay in my guest room.”
Before I can object any further, he’s at my car, pulling out my bag. Then, he’s back beside me, taking my hand and leading me into the house.
The two-story house is large. He tugs me along, pointing out the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. My eyes scan the rooms as I pass them by, but other than the fact that there’s furniture and Wes is sprawled out on a couch in the living room, my brain isn’t taking in much.
We reach a set of stairs and he pulls me up. At the top, Jason points out another bathroom, and leads me down a hall, stopping at the second door on the right. He pushes it open, and sets my bag inside.
“I’m at the end of the hall,” he says, pointing to a set of double doors. “You need anything, come get me, yeah?”
“Okay,” I say with a small nod. “Thank you. Really, thank you for this.”
“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” he says softly, smiling warmly at me, before he turns around and starts down the hall toward his room.
I stare after him for a moment, pondering the change in him from our meeting at the bar to the parking lot to now. I’m suddenly regretting not saying anything to him about Mr. Chapman, and before I can stop myself, I call out, “Um, Jason.” He stops moving, glancing over his shoulder at me and giving me a chin lift. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t know Mr. Chapman was your dad.”
Jason turns back to me and regards me for a moment, a hard look coming into his eyes. “Huh.”
“Huh,” I echo, furrowing my brow. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “I can’t tell if you’re lying to me about that.” And then he turns away, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I stand there for a moment, staring at his closed bedroom door, feeling slightly lost. The house is quiet. So quiet that I can hear the rustle of Jason’s clothing through the door as he strips, most likely getting ready for bed, and the soft snores coming from Wes downstairs.
It strikes me then that Mr. Chapman, though he had a crappy way of going about it, delivered exactly what he said he would.
I’m with Jason Pierce.
He’s going to take my case.
I’m going to get home.
Smiling, I step into the bedroom and close the door. I go to lock it only to find that there’s no lock.
My stomach sinks and twists.
Glancing around the room, I spot the large window and I rush over to it, pulling t
he curtains aside.
No lock.
There are no locks in this room.
How am I supposed to protect myself without any locks? What if Peck finds me?
I look out the window. I’m on the second floor. He’d need a ladder to get in. That would make noise, right? It would wake everyone up, right?
That’s when it hits me. I’m alone in a house with two men that I don’t know. Two men who could easily call the police and turn me over.
Oh God.
I pull in a sharp breath, let it out, take another.
What am I doing here?
Okay.
Okay, okay, okay. Calm down. Just breathe. Think about this logically. If Mr. Chapman wanted to screw me over, he would have done it already. He wouldn’t have kept me safe and fed me for two months.
And he wouldn’t send me to people who would turn me over to Peck.
He would have done it himself already.
And Jason … he wouldn’t have brought me to his home if he were just going to call the cops. No, he would have taken me to the police station.
My head races, so does my heart. Maybe Jason was right. I should have kept the Taser.
I glance back at the door, considering if I should retrieve it.
Okay, stop. I need to stop. The front door is locked. The window is too high up for someone to climb in unnoticed.
I’m safe here.
I’m safe.
I close my eyes, willing my heart to slow, and when I reopen them, I feel slightly better.
And exhausted.
Padding over to my bag, I get ready for bed, forcing myself not to think. If I just don’t think about it, perhaps I can sleep. Sleep will help. Sleep always helps to put things in perspective.
Right. What I need is sleep.
Leaving the light on, I climb into bed. My muscles relax instantaneously as they sink into the soft mattress, my weary body urging me to close my eyes.
I let them drift close, reminding myself that I’m safe here. I’m safe. I’m safe.
Chapter Seven
Jason
Vance is trying not to laugh.
Wes stopped trying not to laugh twenty minutes ago.
I’m trying not to punch them both in the face.
Wes and Vance are sitting at the table, Wes with a coffee in his hands, and Vance with a beer. I’m standing over the stove, flipping strips of bacon while listening to Wes fill Vance in on the Elena situation.
I love my partners. They’re like brothers to me. But the more I listen, the tighter the knot in my gut coils. If I have to hear either of them say Richard Chapman’s name one more time …
Jesus, I’m a fucking mess.
I feel pulled, twisted, knotted, and utterly useless.
I’ve got a beautiful girl upstairs, who’s technically engaged. Who’s on the run from said fiancée. Who looks at me as though I’m her personal superhero. And she was sent to me by my asshole of a father.
I don’t know if she’s really here for my help, or if she’s here for my old man. I just don’t know. Why the fuck would he send her? Her. Someone who so obviously needs help.
Because you won’t say no.
Goddamnit. Why’d she have to bring him up this morning?
Another loud burst of laughter fills the room, and I spin around, glaring. “Keep it the fuck down. She’s still sleeping.”
Wes stops laughing and grimaces, glancing at the stairs. “Shit, right, sorry.”
Running a hand down my face, I groan, as a sudden quietness settles over the room.
I don’t even know what to say.
I need to take this case. Need to. And I want their votes on it. I want them in.
We’ve never taken a case without everyone voting in.
We’re not just partners, we’re a team.
And if they think I’m losing my shit over this, I know damn well they’ll back out and try to shut it down.
“So, your old man sent her,” Vance says eventually, his tone bland and unamused. He leans back in his chair, stares at me for a moment, shifts his gaze to the stove, and then back to me. “And now you’re cooking for her.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s right.”
Vance shakes his head, an apprehensive smile playing at his lips. “I don’t know what to say about that, Jase.”
I chuckle, but it’s without humor. “Say whatever you’re thinking,” I tell him. “We both know you have an opinion. You always fuckin’ do.”
Vance answers me with a worried silence. He seems taken aback and is trying to make sure I’m serious. He studies my face, and I can tell he’s looking for some kind of crack. Something to tell him that my head isn’t where it should be.
I wait quietly, so does Wes.
After a moment, Vance sighs and slowly nods, “Fine. I think sending a girl who’s on the run from her cop fiancée, knowing damn well you won’t turn her away, is pretty fuckin’ smart.”
“She didn’t know the relationship between them,” Wes says, shaking his head.
“Huh.” I rest my hip against the counter. “She said as much to me this morning, but something was off. Couldn’t tell if she was lying or not.”
“I’m telling you,” Wes says, “she didn’t know.” He stares at me pointedly, eyes narrowed in challenge.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to think.
I want to believe him.
I really do.
Taking a deep breath, I look up at the ceiling, asking myself why this shit with my old man is getting under my skin like it is. It shouldn’t. It’s been five years since I cut ties with him. Five goddamn years of him sending people to poke around in my business. I should be used to it by now. But never, never, has he sent someone like her.
“Whether she knows about the relationship or not doesn’t change the fact that she could be here for the photos,” Vance says. I watch him take a sip of his beer, his movement casual, but his eyes intense. “He could be promising her the same help you are in exchange for those photos. Can’t see any other reason why he’d help her. It’d be stupid to ignore that.”
“I’m not ignoring it,” I say. “But I’m not gonna let him jerk her around like that, either. You two can back me on this, or not. Doesn’t matter. I promised her my help and I’m gonna give it to her.”
Silence.
We survey each other.
I can see the shock in their eyes, maybe a little doubt, even. I’ve never considered taking a job without them. But this isn’t just a job. It’s personal.
I turn back to the bacon, flipping the pieces again, before going to the fridge to retrieve the eggs. Deciding to do scrambled simply for ease, I grab a bowl and start cracking eggs over the edge.
“Shit, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Vance mutters, cutting through the silence. “Okay, why’d she run?”
I spin back around, glancing at Vance, then Wes, and then back to Vance. Despite myself, I grin. I have their votes.
“Don’t know,” I say with a shrug.
Vance’s eyebrows go up and his tone turns from questioning to exasperated, as he grumbles, “Right, so you don’t know if it’s something the fiancée did, or something she did.”
“If it were something she did, there’d be a warrant and not a missing persons report,” I say.
“Unless she decided to run before he found out whatever it is she did,” Wes points out.
I scoff. “You met her. You can’t tell me you think she’s the lawbreaker type.”
He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative, as he looks at me. “Your old man never struck me as the dirty cop type, either.”
Elena
My eyes drift open slowly and I blink a few times, clearing the sleepy haze from my vision. The bedroom light is still on, despite the daylight that is pouring into the room. I don’t know if it’s late afternoon, or perhaps it’s early. I’m not really sure. I feel as though I’ve slept for days. My muscles are stiff and sore, my arms
and legs heavy, and a slight headache pinches behind my eyes.
I glance around the room, searching for a clock. There isn’t one. There really isn’t much of anything. A bed, a cherry wood night table and dresser. Everything else is blue. Gray-blue walls, light-blue sheets, bold-blue comforter.
With a heavy sigh, I let my eyes fall shut again, listening for any sounds of movement from within the house. Off in the distance, I can hear shuffling footsteps and muted voices, and I wonder if Wes is still here, or if it’s someone else.
Rubbing my eyes, I sit up in bed, letting the blankets fall and gather around my waist. I should probably get up. Go talk to Jason. Figure out what I’m supposed to do now.
But I don’t want to. Not yet. I need me time. Centering time. Thinking time.
I can already feel the stress creeping up on me, choking me, at the thought of telling him everything. I know I have to and I also know I’m going to feel like a fool doing it. What’s worse, he’s going to think I’m a fool.
Good God, I don’t want him to think of me as a fool.
There’s something exciting and alarming about him.
The way he can be so angry, and still so … gentle with me.
My skin prickles, remembering the way it felt when he held my hand, and stroked his thumb along my wrist; the way it made my heart race and my body heat.
Groaning, I toss the covers back and stumble to my feet. I need to focus on my motivation. My parents, my brother, my freedom.
And I need to not think about the way Jason Pierce made my heart race.
Exhaling a flustered breath, I quickly get dressed, pulling on jeans and a violet tee, and hurry out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
The bathroom is large, bright, and white. I take care of business, splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and tame my hair back into a ponytail.
By the time I’m finished, I feel better—a little less sore, a lot more stable. After putting my toiletries back in my bag, I hurry out to find Jason, telling myself not to worry about whether or not he’ll think I’m a fool, because it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is stopping Officer Peck and getting back home to my family.