that doesn’t work, then I can get creative.”
That last part brought a smile to my face.
Lifting his head, he rested his chin atop mine. “What’s on your mind?”
“A lot of things.”
“Tell me.”
I sighed. “Cole, it’s late. You have to work in the morning. You should be asleep.”
“Yeah, I got to work, but my girl is standing in front of a window in the middle of the night watching the snow with her mind most likely full of terrible shit,” he said. “And that’s more important than getting a full night’s sleep.”
My girl. Those two words. I loved the sound of them. They also made me think of what Agent Myers had said. “Do you think it’s . . . weird that we’re . . .”
“We’re what?”
“That we’re here right now. That ten years have passed and we’re this close after a handful of days?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s uncommon. Doesn’t mean it’s weird. But you know what it does mean?”
I leaned my head back against his chest. “What?”
“What I said before. We’re lucky.”
I liked the sound of that better than the weird part. “I’m not sure we’re so lucky right now.”
“We will be.” Lowering his head, he kissed my cheek. “We will get through this.”
He’d said that with such confidence, I almost had to believe him. The only hang-up was that I knew life didn’t care about how much confidence you had or how badly you wanted to believe in something.
“Did someone say something that’s got you asking a question like that?” Cole asked.
I raised a brow, wondering if he’d developed some kind of mind-reading ability. “That agent—Agent Myers said something.”
He cursed under his breath. “He’s a dick and doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about.”
“You two don’t get along, do you?”
“Not particularly.” His arms tightened around me and then he loosened them, sliding his hands to my hips. He turned me around so I was facing him. “He used to work in my department. When I was a new recruit, we had a case that came across our desk because the perp had gang ties. Was just a kid, only sixteen, but already deep in the streets,” he explained. “But the crime he’d committed had nothing to do with the gangs or running drugs. He’d shot his father.”
“God,” I whispered.
“He’d shot his father because that bastard was beating the shit out of him and his mom,” Cole added, and that was even worse to hear. “Myers didn’t give two shits that it was an act of desperation. Don’t get me wrong, not like I’m saying violence is the answer to violence, but you can understand how someone eventually snaps. Everything is black and white with Myers, but the world doesn’t operate that way. We didn’t see eye to eye on that case.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What happened to the boy?”
“Went to prison.” He took my hand. “Got life.”
My brows knitted. “You didn’t think he deserved that?”
One shoulder rose. “The kid was a product of a shitty home and streets that suck them in. He grew up in an environment where violence is answered with more violence. Where a bullet to the chest is the end-all. That’s all the kid knew. Sometimes people do wrong and they need to be punished for it, but there are times when you can understand what drove their actions.”
“True,” I murmured. “You see a lot of stuff that isn’t black and white, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.” Cole led me over to the couch and when he sat down, he pulled me into his lap so I was sitting sideways. “But most of the time it is black and white.” He paused. “You up thinking and not sleeping because of Myers?”
I had a feeling that if I said yes, it wouldn’t end well, and the truth was, it wasn’t just because of Myers. “Do you think it was a mistake that I came home?”
“Hell no.” Not a moment of hesitation.
I smiled as I placed my hands on his chest. “Mom said something like that. She meant it from a good place and a bad one—a bad one full of worry. She’s scared for me.”
“Sasha . . .”
Fear trickled into my blood like drops of ice. “What if me coming home caused this?”
“Babe.” He grasped my cheeks as his eyes came to mine. “Nothing you’ve done has caused this. You aren’t responsible for what is happening.”
I gripped his shoulders. “I get what you’re saying, but indirectly—”
“Indirectly or directly, you’re not responsible.” He slid his hands back and his fingers gathered my hair back from my face. “You’ve already given up ten years of your life to that bastard.”
“I—”
“You know you did,” he stated firmly, and damn it, he was right. “And you’re not going to give up more of life to some nameless, faceless monster. No more.”
God, what he said was so damn true.
“I can’t . . . I can’t help but feel like we’re on the verge of repeating history,” I whispered, giving words to the fear that had been building inside me. “That it’s going to happen all over again.”
“It’s not,” he was quick to respond. “The past is not going to repeat itself. There is no way I’m going to let that happen.”
I wanted to ask how he thought he could stop it, but there wasn’t going to be an answer. There couldn’t be.
“You belong home,” he said, guiding my head toward his. “You belong here, with me, like you should’ve been this whole time.”
Some of the pressure in my chest eased off. “Yeah,” I whispered as I sifted my fingers through the short, soft strands of hair at the base of his neck.
“Sleepy?” he asked.
“No.” I lifted my chin. “I’m thinking about the whole get-creative part you mentioned earlier? I’m really interested in that.”
His eyes took on a hooded, heavy quality. “I’m always interested in that.”
I pressed my forehead against his. “What exactly would those things entail?”
“I could tell you.” His hands dropped to my hips and then suddenly I was in the air. Cole lifted me up as he rose, and my legs circled his waist out of instinct. “But I prefer to show you.”
Holding on, I laughed softly. “I think I like the idea of you showing me.”
“Good, because that’s what you’re going to get.”
Cole’s mouth was on mine as he walked us back to the bedroom, one arm securing me to him, the other hand at the back of my head. The strength he had was unbelievable as he lowered me to the bed without breaking contact. I by no means was a small woman, and I was surprised he didn’t drop me.
Then I wasn’t really thinking about any of that, because his mouth and hands were everywhere, shucking off my cardigan, and easing down the straps of my nightie, exposing my breasts to the cool, night air. The tips of my breasts beaded under his hot breath and then his mouth. The skirt of my nightie came up, the flannel bottoms he wore came off, and then he was between my thighs, and my knees were pressed into his sides.
The way he rocked his hips, the way each thrust hit the right spot each time with startling precision, took me farther and farther away from everything that had kept me awake and haunted me during the day.
Muscles started tightening in the most delicious way and Cole braced his weight on one arm. His lips glided over mine, and it was such a soft kiss, a sweet one, and it broke me.
I cried out, calling his name, and he was right behind me, his powerful body shuddering before half his weight hit me. He was heavy, but I didn’t care. I wanted him there.
Kissing his bare chest, I slid my hand down his back as my pulse slowed. “Guess what?”
“Hmm?” His head was buried against my neck.
“That was an amazing sleeping aid,” I told him. “I’d like one of them every evening, please.”
Cole chuckled against my throat. “I can do that for you and then some.”
My
car was finally ready for pickup on Tuesday. Since Cole had to head into Baltimore and someone needed to be at the inn, Jason picked me up during lunch and took me to the body shop down the road.
“Thank you for doing this,” I said as we coasted down the street.
Jason smiled as he straightened his glasses. “It’s really no problem. I own my own agency, so I can pretty much come and go as I please.”
“Still awesome of you.” Snow-covered lawns blurred. “Especially yesterday.”
“Got to admit, I hope I don’t get a call from you in the future to watch the inn because of something like that again.”
I glanced over at him. “Me too.”
Jason slowed as we neared a red light. “Have you seen the newspaper this morning?”
Shaking my head, I said, “Do I want to?”
His lips quirked. “No.”
I sighed. “What does it say?”
Jason’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s about Angela—well, a little bit of the article is about her. The rest is about the . . . the Groom, and how we might have another serial killer on our hands.”
“Yeah.” I tipped my head back. “I’m not surprised to hear it.”
“Miranda called me this morning about it. She wanted to go get every newspaper and burn them all.”
My lips curved up. “I could see her organizing that.”
His fingers tapped along the steering wheel. “How’s your mom hanging in there?”
“Okay, but I know it’s getting to her. I think . . . well, I know she’s really worried and she’s scared.” I stretched out my legs, sighing. “I just hate that she’s having to go through this again.”
“And you,” he pointed out. “You’re having to go through it again.”
Biting down on my lip, I didn’t say anything. It was easier focusing on my mom and everyone else than myself, because when I did allow myself to really think about it, it scared the living hell out of me.
“You’re lucky to still have your mom around,” Jason said as he turned left. “I miss mine every day.”
I thought about how he’d lost his mother and stepfather. A horrible, tragic accident. “Are you still looking for your father?”
His fingers stilled as he said, “Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
Slowing down as we reached the body shop, he pulled into the parking lot. Gravel crunched under the tires. “It is what it is. Had to make peace with it.”
Sometimes you didn’t have any other option than to do that.
It took about fifteen minutes for me to get the keys to my car, and when I walked back out, Jason was there, standing outside of his car with his hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat.
“What are you still doing here?” I walked up to him.
He tilted his head to the side. “Just wanted to make sure you got your car and everything starts.”
“In other words, you’re playing bodyguard.”
Jason grinned. “Pretty much.”
“That’s sweet.” Stretching up, I kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to follow me back to the inn.”
“Are you going straight back there?” he asked.
I nodded. “Thank you again.” I started to turn as he headed for his driver’s door. I stopped. “Have you talked to your wife recently?”
Jason blinked. “Random question.”
My cheeks heated as I twisted the ring of keys in my hands. “I know, but I realized I haven’t really asked about you and her. I didn’t even know about it, and I’m trying to not be such a crappy—”
“It’s okay.” Jason laughed. “I talked to her a couple of days ago. She might come home for a visit.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Yeah.” His nose scrunched. “I think so.”
“That’s good.” I glanced down at my keys. “I better get back.”
He nodded with a grin. “Call me if you need anything. Serious.”
“I have been, haven’t I?”
Laughing, Jason climbed into his sedan, and I turned, walking toward my poor car. Happy to see it with windows again, I unlocked the door and climbed in. The coldness of the seats seeped through my jeans, and the air had a certain chemical smell to it, something that vaguely reminded me of a new car.
The trip back to the inn was uneventful and it felt amazing to be behind the wheel of my own vehicle again.
And I was so not parking it outside.
When I got back to the inn, I saw a UPS truck parked out front. Letting the car idle outside the carriage house, I jumped out and went around to the front, unlocking the large barnlike doors. They opened, inch by painful inch.
Making a mental note to get a quote on replacing these things with an automatic garage-door opener, knowing it would probably get turned down by the historic society, I climbed back into my car and eased it in beside Mom’s truck.
Once parked, I turned off the car and patted the steering wheel before grabbing my purse and climbing back out. I closed the car door, hitting the lock button on my fob as I turned and looked. Sucking in a quick breath, I saw someone standing at the entrance of the carriage house, the bright sun blocking out their features and turning them into a tall, broad shadow.
Hairs along the back of my neck rose as I jerked back a step, surprise flashing through my system and quickly giving way to fear that felt like slush in my veins.
I clenched the keys, my mouth and throat drying. “Hello?”
The form—a man—stepped forward, out from the brightness of the cold January sun and into the dimly lit garage. The unease multiplied and spread, gluing my feet to where I stood when I saw who it was.
Coach Currie stood before me. “I need to talk to you.”
Chapter 24
Instinct sprung alive. My heart jumped in my chest as I quickly realized several things at once. If Coach Currie was here, then he might know what I’d told the investigators, and that couldn’t be good. I also realized in that moment that we were alone, very much so, in a carriage house, and no matter what his intentions were or how deeply he was involved, I could not be in here with him.
My gaze darted behind him. “I’m sorry, but I need—”
“I didn’t mean to knock you down the stairs. That was an accident,” he said, coming forward. “I didn’t mean to do that. You have to believe that.”
“Okay,” I said, deciding to agree with him at this moment was the best possible practice. “I believe you, but I can’t talk right now. I have to go. Maybe we can set up a time—”
“I would’ve stayed and helped, but I freaked out.” Outside, a truck turned on, engine churning loudly. “But I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” I forced my voice to remain level as I shifted my weight. I was stuck between the two cars, only able to go backward, farther away from the doors, and he was too close, way too close. “But I really can’t talk—”
Currie lurched forward, grabbing my arms before I could move back. I gasped as his fingers dug in. “This can’t wait.”
My heart ended up in my throat. Fear rose as my purse slipped from my grasp and hit the ground. “Please let me go.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Angela. God, I would never do something like that.” His brown eyes were wide. “We were screwing around and I’d left one of my jackets at her place. I just didn’t want it to get out. My wife would leave me