I find Jason in the kitchen. He’s standing over the stove, cooking what smells deliciously like bacon. He’s barefoot, wearing a pair of jeans, and a dark-gray tee.
Wes is here, too, sitting at the table with a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. He looks like he just woke up, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, and he’s totally engrossed in whatever he’s reading.
There’s another guy beside Wes, reading as well. He’s hunched over the table, scowling, and I give him a quick once over. Hard jaw, high cheekbones, tanned skin. His hair is short, dark brown, and he’s tall, broad shouldered, not quite as broad as Jason’s, but broader than Wes’s. He’s dressed in jeans and a green tee. I wonder if he’s Vance.
I hesitate, feeling awkward and a little unsure. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do, or what to say. At the moment, hovering in the doorway, I’m not sure of anything.
After a few seconds of none of them noticing me in the doorway, I clear my throat. “Um … hi.”
Jason turns around, catching my eye. Our eyes lock and hold. His gaze drills into me before he sweeps it over the rest of me with such thorough intensity that my insides quiver. The corners of his mouth curl up, revealing his dimples. “Hi, darlin’. Sleep alright?”
“Yes, great, thanks,” I say. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”
He smiles and nods, as his eyes scan me over again, making my cheeks flush. He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You gonna come in and grab a seat, or just stand in the doorway?”
“Uh, yes. Okay, sure, I’ll sit.”
Swallowing down the awkward feeling, I make my way over to the table. I can feel him watching me, feel his eyes glued to me. His stare makes me so nervous I feel like I’m going to trip over my own feet. I take a seat quickly, fiercely trying to block it out.
“No Taser this morning?” Wes asks, giving me a lazy, uneven smile. He sets down the paper he was reading, and leans back in his chair.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I figured it’s safer for all of us if I don’t have it.”
The man beside him laughs, a real, belly-shaking laugh. He glances at Jason and says, “I get it,” before leaning across the table, sticking out a hand to me. “I’m Vance.”
I shake his hand. “Great to meet you, Vance. And what is it that you get?”
His lips curl up slightly and he shrugs as though it doesn’t matter. My brow furrows in confusion and he laughs again at my reaction. “So, Elena Reed, what is it exactly that you think we can do for you?”
I blanch and swallow thickly. Unease chokes me at the blunt question and I glance at Jason. He’s still watching me, an expectant look on his face.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay.
I force myself to focus. I guess there is no easing into this. Best to get right to it.
“Right to it, then,” I say, shifting in my seat. I take a deep centering breath, let it out, and take one more. “Okay, I need help finding something that will put Officer Peck in jail.”
“You want to put your fiancée in jail,” Vance says, regarding me curiously. He motions toward the pages littering the table. “Since I haven’t found a thing that would explain that, you wanna tell us why?”
I stall, leaning forward and glancing down at the papers spread across the table. My heart races in my chest. There’s picture after picture of me. Me with my brother. Me alone. Me at my parents’ house. Me with friends. Me with Peck. They’re from my Facebook profile. All of them.
Good God, these guys have been busy.
Mindlessly, I reach out and begin shuffling through the pictures and papers. My missing persons report. My college transcript. Tweets, Facebook statuses … They haven’t been just looking into my disappearance, but me overall.
My gaze falls on my engagement announcement, and I pause for a few heartbeats, feeling my skin grow clammy and pale.
“Wow, I hate that picture,” I say, deceptively calm, glancing up. “He always looked at me like that. Even the first time we met, like I was a prize, a toy, something to be owned.”
“Why’d you say yes then?” Wes asks, looking at me with complete openness and interest. He’s smiling, it’s not overly warm, but it looks genuine.
“I didn’t,” I say, shrugging. “I found out I was getting married the same way you did. I read the announcement.”
My statement makes them both hesitate, glancing from me, to the announcement, to me again. They start stacking up all the papers, staring at me, but they don’t speak.
It’s awkward and my hands start to sweat. I’m not sure I want to explain how I got engaged, that Peck had the article printed, threw it down in front of me while shoving a ring on my finger, so I just stare back.
After a moment, they have the papers cleared away, and Jason is setting plates down, heaped with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Once everyone has food, drinks, and utensils, he joins us at the table, taking a seat right beside me.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, and pick up my fork. The guys dig in, but I’m not all that hungry anymore, so I shift my food around on my plate.
Closing my eyes, I try to forget everything.
Just for a few minutes, I don’t want to be nervous.
For a few minutes, I don’t want it to be awkward.
I just need a few minutes.
“So it was a shitty proposal that made you decide to run,” Jason says, around a bite of eggs. “Is that why you want him in jail, too?”
I don’t know what I expect from him, but it’s not that. I turn to Jason, frowning. “You’re a bit of an ass, you know that, right?”
His eyes shine with amusement and he reaches under the table, giving my knee a small, reassuring squeeze. He laughs, shaking his head. “I know, darlin’, you’ve told me.”
Is he joking? I think he is. I hope he is. I take a deep breath, trying to relax, and he squeezes my knee again.
Sitting quietly, I take a bite of eggs, stalling for a moment, and consider what to say. I briefly wonder if this is a mistake, but I can’t know that, not until I give them a chance. Sighing, I glance down at my plate, not able to look at them. “I spent four months dealing with Peck’s abuse, blackmail, and coercion, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t decide to run. Nobody chooses to run if they have other options. I was out of options. He took them all away from me. Shelters didn’t keep me safe. The police didn’t believe me. Going home wasn’t an option; neither was hiding out with friends. They’d only end up suffering just as much as me for helping.”
Jason brings his hand up, cupping the back of my neck. He tilts my head, raising my gaze to level with his. “Abuse, as in he was physical with you?”
I nod slowly, taking in the protective, bordering on possessive, look he wears. It chills me, and warms me. Creeps me out, and makes me feel safe. I don’t know whether I love it, or hate it.
Oh crap … I’m screwed.
I’m so totally screwed.
How the heck am I going to work with him?
Pulling my eyes away, I look down at my plate once more, but Jason doesn’t move his hand from my neck. Instead, he keeps it in place, rubbing small passes with his thumb on the side of my throat.
It’s strangely soothing, and I find myself leaning into him.
“The first little bit was okay,” I say. “He was nice enough and my parents were so happy that I hooked up with a cop, especially him. He’s pretty well respected in my neighborhood. But after a couple weeks, things changed. He got angry, yelling at me all the time for ridiculous little things. I told him I was done and that was the first time he hit me. He broke my nose.”
Jason curses under his breath, so does Wes, but Vance says nothing. He just watches me, his face remaining open, taking everything in. “Did you go to the hospital?” he asks.
I laugh coolly, remembering the first hospital visit. “Yes. He took me, flashed his badge around, and told the doctor that I walked into a door. No one would believe me when I tried to tell them what really happene
d. They didn’t even listen to me. It was like I wasn’t even there. They treated me, and then sent me home with him. I ended up in the hospital one other time with a fractured wrist.”
“How’d you get tied up with him?” Wes asks quietly.
I turn to him, swallowing thickly. “I made a mistake. Peck caught me doing it and gave me a get out of jail free card. It was supposed to be dinner. One night, a single dinner, that’s it. He wanted more, and when he realized I didn’t, he put me in a spot where I couldn’t refuse.”
Jason squeezes the back of my neck lightly, and brings my eyes back to his. “What did I say about lying?”
I blink. Seriously? It stuns me how easily he sees through me, how easily he picks up on my lies. I stammer for a moment, and then answer, “Two truths and a lie. Weaving it with the truth makes the lie more believable.” Which is exactly what I did.
“What else?” he coaxes, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of my neck.
“You’d rather I didn’t lie to you.”
“Whose mistake were you covering for?” His voice is tentative, like he’s afraid to hear my answer.
I hesitate, staring at him, and he just sits there massaging the back of my neck, watching me. I let out a sigh, and drop my eyes. “My brother. Peck pulled us over. He’d been drinking. It was his second DWI so he would have gotten jail time. Peck was checking me out, my brother noticed—”
“Jesus Christ,” Vance mutters, cutting me off. He presses his lips together in a tight line. “You’ve been gone a year, yeah?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
“You have any idea if he’s still looking for you?” Vance asks.
“Yes, I think he is,” I say. “He almost caught up with me a few months ago, just before I met up with ... um ...” I stop, glancing at Jason as his hand lightly flexes against my neck.
Right, okay, don’t mention his dad.
Taking a deep breath, I push on. “I was in Portland and made a stupid mistake. I was hungry, out of money, and I tried my debit card. I hadn’t used it for months. Not since I first left and took as much money as I could out. Anyway, two days after I used it, I saw him. He saw me, chased me, and I managed to dodge him.” An involuntary shudder passes through me. “There have been a few other close calls, but that was the closest he’s come to finding me.”
The room falls silent. It’s tense and uncomfortable, and I start to sweat as all three of them look at me, studying me, as though they’re trying to see if I’m lying or leaving anything out.
After a painfully long moment, it’s Wes who breaks the silence. “Do we have anyone in New York?”
Jason’s hand on my neck tightens, a light squeeze, and then it drops. “Liam’s still there. I’ll give him a call. Vance, get copies of those medical records, yeah?”
Wait! What?
“Sure,” Vance says, and then he shifts his gaze to me. “Gonna need the names of the hospitals he took you to.”
I blink. Oh God. If they start digging around in that kind of stuff, Peck will know. I’m sure of it. “I don’t think—”
“You’re gonna need to trust us, darlin’,” Jason says, stopping me mid-protest. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”
My brow furrows. He stares at me for a moment and I hope he’s reading the questions in my eyes. His expression softens a bit, but he says nothing more. He stands up, giving me a small smile, as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, and heads out of the room.
Chapter Eight
Jason
I clench my teeth against a fresh swell of anger, but it does nothing to help. It just builds and builds, multiplying and compounding with a heavy dose of frustration. I can feel myself growing hot again, and I close my eyes, take a deep breath, trying to keep my anger from showing.
Liam is going to look into Peck. He’s going to track him down, start tailing him. Vance is working on getting her medical records, and hopefully they’ll show something. Suspicion, doubt, proof that her injuries were not accidents. It shouldn’t take them too long to get me something.
I need to relax.
I can’t let her see how much her story is getting to me.
I won’t scare her into running from me again.
Elena has been talking for hours. Hours. She’s trying not to cry and it fucking kills me. Guts me. Shreds me up from the inside out.
Peck was careful, she says. He’d keep her hidden until her bruises faded, and made up creative stories for her folks when he couldn’t.
He has enough on her brother to put him away for years. He has a health inspector that will shut down her parents’ bakery.
He threatened her with it. Blackmailed her. Bullied her.
I sit in the living room, my feet propped up on the coffee table, and Elena tucked into my side. My arm is curved around her shoulders, my other hand, curled around a beer bottle. I’m not sure when that happened, really. Sometime between us sitting down on the couch and the guys taking off. She perched herself beside me when we first came into the room and as she talked, the space between us lessened and lessened, until she was leaning on me, and my arm was around her.
I want to pull her closer.
I never want to let her go.
Especially when I hear the tremble in her voice.
It’s really fucking hard listening to it.
Over the last year, Peck’s been searching for her, tracking her. It sounds like most of his leads in the beginning were from people spotting her and reporting it. When those dried up, his leads came from her mistakes.
And she made a few of those. Using her debit card, credit card, her real name when she found odd jobs or checked into hotels.
She’s been running, hiding ... She hasn’t been able to settle anywhere for more than a few weeks before he’d show up, chasing her to her next place.
The most shocking part of her story, the part that has me the most furious, is that she did seek help. Before she vanished, Elena actually went to a shelter and those idiots released her to Peck when he showed up to get her.
She tried to go to the cops, too, but they didn’t believe her. Told her she was telling stories. Made her sound like a vindictive housewife.
That’s when he started using her parents and brother against her. It’s also why she never went to her parents for help. She was scared. Scared Peck would ruin them if she did.
The whole goddamn thing makes me sick.
I’m not surprised Vance got it as soon as he met her. There’s just something about this girl, small, sweet looking, innocent smile. It makes you want to protect her, slay dragons and lay their heads at her feet.
But there’s also fight in her. It’s dwindling, but it’s there. And goddamnit, I don’t want to see that fight burn out.
My eyes are trained on the television, on some romantic comedy that I don’t know the name of, or care about.
I put it on to distract her.
It hasn’t worked yet.
It’s past midnight. We’ve only been up for about five hours, but she’s getting tired. I think the stress is getting to her. She’s rambling on about her brother now, between yawns. I think she’s trying to make me believe that he isn’t a complete fuck up.
It puzzles me.
Even if I can look past the fact that it was her brother who traded a date with his little sister to get out of a DWI charge, which I can’t, she’s also told me that her brother’s a drunk. That he can’t hold down a job. That he barely finished high school, and at three years older than her, he’s still living with their parents.
It’s a lost cause.
She can say whatever she wants, and I’m still going to think he’s a fuck up.
“You’re something else,” I mutter, adjusting my arm around her, snuggling her closer in the crook of my arm.
She cuddles into my body, a little tense at first, but slowly, she melts, settling her cheek on my chest.
“I don’t know what that means,” she says, peering up at me with big blue eyes.<
br />
I brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “It means you’re amazing. You’re strong, you’re loyal. You gave up everything you love, everything you want, for someone who doesn’t deserve it, and still, you smile, you survive.”
It seems like hours pass, both of us staring into each other’s eyes. I have no idea what she sees that holds her, but I can’t look away either. She’s giving me the look again, the one that makes me feel like a superhero.
“He deserves it. My brother’s a great guy. He deserves it.” The words are whispered and she chokes on them like she can taste the lie and it’s too bitter to swallow.
She wants to believe them.
She wants them to be true.
“If he knew what that asshole did to you,” I whisper, my voice raw from emotion, “do you think he’d agree?”
“No,” she says. “Probably not.” She pauses, lips parted, and I wait for more, but all I get is a soft sigh. She looks at the television and laughs quietly. “I love this movie.”
I take a long pull of my beer, finishing it off, and careful not to disturb her, I reach down, and place the empty bottle on the floor. She shifts a little, laughs again, and I’m struck by how the sound of her laugh loosens the knot in my chest.
After a while, her head starts to fall, her breathing begins to even out and deepen, and I realize she’s falling asleep.
As I watch her, I find myself hoping Liam takes his time tracking down Officer Peck.
Elena
A ringing phone startles me awake.
I jolt, blinking away my blurred vision, feeling disoriented and stiff. Really, really stiff.
The phone rings again followed by a vibration against my hip. Groaning, I move to stretch, and twist to dig it out of my pocket, when I realize I’m not alone.
Oh my God. I’m not alone.
There is an arm, a thick, strong arm wrapped around me. There’s also a hand on my ass. A hard body beneath mine. A blanket over the top of me.
My heart starts pounding as I stare down to find Jason underneath me. “Oh God.”