I shake my head; tears bead on my lashes. Oh God, no. No, no, no.
“How did you get this number?” I ask, but I already know, don’t I?
My stomach sinks and twists, and I swallow hard. I feel like a fool. A stupid, stupid fool.
He chuckles. “You know how I got your number.”
My body goes tight, and then wobbles. I brace myself against the counter and I stare at it unseeing as I try to process what he’s saying.
“What?” I ask shakily, hoping that I didn’t hear him correctly.
“You heard me,” he says.
Yes. I heard him, but I wish I hadn’t.
I don’t want to believe it.
I don’t ask again. I don’t want to hear the name. Hearing him say it will make it so, so much worse. And I don’t think he would answer me anyway. He’s never been one for direct answers. He likes to see me squirm. Likes it when he gets under my skin.
So I say nothing. I don’t admit that I heard him and I don’t deny it. I don’t let him hear the hurt and the fear in my voice.
Silence, with a man like him, is better.
“You’re being stupid, El,” he says, the sudden rage in his voice sends icy terror through me. “Very, very stupid. You think getting yourself a couple of private investigators to dig around in my business is going to keep you hidden? Did I teach you nothing?”
My heart is beating so hard it hurts. I can feel it everywhere, my pulse throbbing in my temples and throat and wrists.
I swallow away the lump in my throat. “Lawrence, I—”
“I’m coming to get you, El,” he interrupts, his voice coming out sharp. “It’s time for you to come home.”
“You know I’ll—”
He laughs, a harsh, unamused sound, cutting me off. “Go ahead, baby. Run again if you want. You can’t hide forever. Sooner or later I’ll catch you. Make no mistake about it.”
Oh God … no.
No.
Hell no.
This is not happening!
Before I can respond, the line goes dead.
My heart is beating so hard that I can hear it in my ears, the frantic beat making the house sound hollow with silence. My entire body is alive; I can feel the fear in every inch of it. I’m terrified out of my ever-loving mind.
The phone falls from my hand, clattering to the floor.
My heart beats faster.
My breath hisses and sputters.
I back up, my back hitting the wall and I slide down, cradling my head in my hands.
It was just a phone call. He isn’t here. He’s still in New York.
My heart is too loud, my head even louder.
I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.
Jason
I’m lost.
Completely lost.
It’s odd feeling this way. It makes me uncomfortable and sends frustration radiating, pulsing, convulsing throughout my body. I haven’t felt this way since the day I made the choice to let my father walk away instead of spending years in prison.
How do you prove abuse and blackmail that happened a year ago? At this point, it’s all he said/she said bullshit. I have half a mind to drag Elena into the station and force her to file a report. With it all on record, the bastard wouldn’t be able to close down her parents’ business without drawing attention to himself, but there’s still her goddamn brother and her fear of the police to contend with.
At least she agreed to meet Cruz.
Flipping through the file, I mull over the connection between Elena’s brother and the cop. At least it’s a lead. Maybe he can show us something useful.
Two years … My fingers drum a restless beat against the tabletop. Andrew Reed has been a rat for two years. His file doesn’t have much, a list of crimes, petty theft being the most common. It was the trafficking charge that led him to his relationship with Officer Peck. Andrew gave up his supplier to keep his ass out of jail, and Peck took the supplier down.
Other than the proof of a relationship between them, there’s nothing.
Where does Elena fall into all of this?
I don’t know …
There’s got to be more here than what it looks like.
Peck must have known about her beforehand, must have had her in his sights. And her goddamn brother …
“Jason?”
Slapping the file closed, I turn to the sound of Elena’s voice. “What’s up, darlin’?”
She’s silent for a moment, regarding me, before looking away. “I um … I really need my keys back.”
Again with the keys? I almost groan, but I manage to swallow it back—barely. I don’t believe she truly wants to leave. If she did, she would have. She wouldn’t ask for the goddamn keys. She would just go.
I figure I should have expected it. Elena has been … unhinged for the last couple of hours, scrubbing my bathrooms, kitchen, she even vacuumed the fucking house. I thought perhaps it was because of my fucking her comment this morning, but I guess I’m wrong on that.
I glance at her, taking in her uptightness. “They’re by the door in the dish with mine,” I say, and wanting to see if this is just her needing alone time or if she’s about to run, I reach into my back pocket, tug out my wallet, open it, and retrieve a fifty. “You mind stopping to grab some beer while you’re out?”
She gapes at me.
Gapes as though she thinks I’ve completely lost my mind.
I can’t argue with her there. I’ve been thinking the same thing since she walked up to me in that damn bar, but she actually seems distressed that I’m simply agreeing.
Or maybe it’s that I’m asking her to come back?
Hesitating, I debate for a second before standing up and slowly moving toward her. I watch her expression, gauging her nervousness. She has her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tucked down, but she doesn’t retreat as I stop in front of her. “You okay?”
Elena glances up and nods once, but her gaze flickers to the left as she says, “Yes, I’m fine.”
It’s one of her tells. Everyone has them. Little unconscious twitches or fidgets that tell when they’re bluffing or right out lying. Elena has a few of them, but the jittery eye contact is the most common.
“You wanna answer that again?” I ask softly, reaching out and taking her cheeks in my hands, tilting her head up to meet my gaze.
She reaches up and grabs onto my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face instantly and although I don’t want to let her go, I don’t resist, letting my hands fall away.
She stares at me.
It’s not her usual stare.
This one isn’t curious or cautious.
It’s right out spooked.
She frowns as she gathers her thoughts, and then meets my gaze again. She offers me a slight shrug and as she opens her mouth, her eyes flicker once more. “I’m—”
My jaw clenches and ticks. “Bullshit,” I say, stopping her before she can spew another lie.
Elena makes a disgruntled noise. Her eyes snap back to mine and narrow. They’re skeptical and bordering on angry as she places a hand on her hip. “Bullshit? What do you mean bullshit?”
“Whatever was about to come out of your mouth was gonna be bullshit,” I tell her. “Give me the truth, darlin’. I think I deserve that much, don’t you?”
Stepping back, I lean against the wall, folding my arms over my chest. My eyes trail along her body, spotting each tremor and shake. She’s watching me, her brow slightly furrowed, unsure and annoyed all at once.
“How do you do that?” she asks, stepping closer to me, and wrapping her arms around herself. “How do you know I’m lying?”
“You’ve got tells,” I mumble, watching her as she takes another step toward me.
“What does that even mean?”
I stand there for a moment, not responding, and she takes the last step to me, reaching out and placing a tentative hand on my chest, just above my folded arms.
That hand tells me so much.
/> She trusts me.
She doesn’t want to, but she does.
She also like’s touching me.
I fucking love it that she does.
I place my hand over hers, holding it against me, and grin. “You give off signals when you lie. It’s your eyes. They flicker to the left when you’re about to bullshit me.”
She frowns. “Oh.”
Carefully, I let her hand go, and wind an arm around her waist, holding her to me. She doesn’t make a sound, letting me hold her close. We stand there for a moment, not speaking, before I let my arm fall away from her.
Elena looks up at me, her frown deepening. She doesn’t move away, instead, she leans further into me, resting her cheek against my chest and tugging my arm around her again.
I fight the grin that itches my cheeks.
I fight it until my face burns with the effort.
Just like I thought, she doesn’t want to go anywhere. It’s nice to be sure of that.
Actually, it’s a goddamn relief.
I press a kiss on the top of her head and ask, “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
Her eyes glitter strangely, and her jaw ticks. “He called me.”
My brow furrows, confused. I’m not sure why that would bother her. She’s been trying to reach my old man all morning. “You’ve been leaving him messages for two hours,” I say.
“Not your dad,” she whispers, burrowing her face into my neck. A shudder passes through her body, trembling from tip-to-toe. “He called me. Peck called me.” Her eyes meet mine once more. “Your dad …” she swallows. “He must have …”
“Given him your number,” I say, finishing her thought. “My old man must have given him your number, I’m not surprised.”
“Yes, you are,” she accuses. “I think that if you thought he would do that, if you thought he’d give out my location, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
She’s right about that.
Fuuuuck. I’m getting sloppy. I have this girl in my house for a week and …
“Jason, I have to go,” she whispers. “He said he’s coming for me.”
Letting her go and stepping away from her, I move over to the sink, resting my palms on the counter and stare out the window.
“Jason.” She follows me, her footsteps, just a whispered tap on the ceramic floor.
“Give me a minute, darlin’,” I say.
I don’t have to look back to know that she stops instantly. Her footsteps falter, tripping over each other, and she waits for me to say something. Her breathing hitches and hisses. The rustling sound of her hands running over the fabric of her top and jeans hits my ears.
Groaning, I rub a hand over my face and into my hair, scratching at my scalp. I should have seen this coming. I should have taken her somewhere. I should have destroyed that damn cell phone.
Wait.
My fingers stall.
No. Wait.
This is perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Peck is coming here. Peck thinks she moved in with me. No doubt, he thinks we’re together.
I look at her. She looks at me. I feel a grin pulling at my lips.
She carries on, missing or choosing to ignore my grin. “He knows I’m here, Jase,” she says. “He knows about you. I can’t stay here.”
“Yes, you can,” I counter, still smiling. “It’s exactly what you should do.”
Her eyes bore into me. There’s so much sadness. So much anger.
I don’t like it.
I fucking hate it.
“I can’t,” she whispers.
I move to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and I quash down my sudden annoyance, managing a gentle tone as I say, “I need you to be smart about this.”
“I am being smart,” she snaps. “Leaving is smart. Hiding until I have something against him is smart.”
“Thought you were sick of hiding,” I counter. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
Elena doesn’t answer. She starts to squirm in my arms and the cutest little growl comes from the back of her throat. “Will you let go. I can’t think with you in my space like this.”
I chuckle, but I don’t let go. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one affected here. I look down at her as she squirms, a half-hearted effort to push me away. Her face is flushed pink and she makes another adorable growling noise.
My heart warms.
Holy shit, I feel too much for her. I feel everything. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. I feel her anger, her pain, but I also feel good. I feel good with her.
“Hold still, darlin’,” I say, pulling her closer. She freezes mid-twist, and purses her lips, glaring up at me. “It’s pretty clear you haven’t clued into the situation here, so I’m gonna lay it out for you. I’m gonna do whatever it is I have to do to keep you safe. Which means, you leave, I’m coming with you.”
“Why are you helping me?”
I’m not sure how to answer that question.
Silence swallows the room.
I’m doing it because I want to.
I’m doing it because I need to.
I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.
I smile down at her. “Because I like you, Elena, and you are worth helping.”
She smiles slightly and I can tell she’s about to argue my response so I lean in, covering her mouth with mine.
Elena stiffens and gasps.
Then she sighs.
She fucking sighs and melts into me, as though my mouth on hers is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
She kisses me back, her tongue swiping against the seam of my lips before darting into my mouth, and her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer.
Deep down, she needs this contact.
She might not want to admit it, but she does.
It lasts for a whole intense minute, and it fucking hurts to pull away. It burns.
But I do.
I peel my lips away and look down at her. Adorably flushed, her eyes open and she licks her lips. She’s smiling, sweet and so innocent, and I watch as the smile falls from her face and her expression changes to one of anxiety.
I watch her, my expression dead serious. “What’s wrong now?”
Her cheeks flush brighter, and she pulls out of my arms, turning her back to me. “I like you, too, Jason.”
I laugh. I can’t be the slightest bit upset about that. “That’s not a bad thing, darlin’.”
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “It is. It’s a tragedy, really.”
I laugh again. I can’t help it. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
She shakes her head, looking at me over her shoulder. “I’m not being dramatic. It’s a tragedy. An epic tragedy.”
“And why’s that?” I ask, fighting against a grin.
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t respond.
“Trust me, babe,” I say. “Life’s way too long to go through it alone.”
Elena looks torn, unsure whether or not to believe me, and I realize then why this matters so much to her. She’s still waiting for me to betray her just like her brother and my old man did. She’s looking for justification not to trust me, she’s skeptical about my feelings for her, and she’s trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t care about me.
She doesn’t want to care about me.
I don’t blame her for that.
Betrayal hurts so much more when you care.
But the fact is she does care.
I can see it. It’s written in the softness in her eyes when she looks at me and in the way she melts when I touch her.
The doorbell chimes, and Elena stiffens. She looks at me; I can see the nervous fear swimming in her eyes, and her guard comes back up.
I want so badly to take her in my arms and tell her it’s okay, remind her that it’s just the doorbell and that she’s safe, but I think it would be a waste of breath right now.
Peck knows where she is.
She doesn’t feel safe anymore.
Before she can freak out, I smile at her and say, “Stay here. I’ll be right back, yeah?”
She nods shakily, forces a small smile, and before she can say anything, I leave her in the kitchen to answer the door.
When I pull the door open, my stomach sinks and my insides coil.
Detective Cruz is back, but he isn’t alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Elena
The door slams and I jerk. Instant adrenaline pumps through my body causing my skin and fingers to tingle. I listen hard to hear who it is, but hear nothing. Whoever it is, Jason must not have let them in. That should calm my racing heart, but it doesn’t.
Between his words, his kiss, and this blasted interruption¸ I don’t think anything will calm me right now.
I pace.
I listen.
Seconds pass, turning into minutes.
I pace some more.
Where the hell is he?
And then, finally, the door opens again. I hear voices, murmured questions that I can’t quite make out, and footsteps—lots of them. I inch toward the doorway, peeking my head around the corner.
Cops.
Oh shit, cops.
Four in uniform, standing behind a man dressed in plain clothes. Jason has his back to me, keeping them all by the door, which is still wide open.
“Where is she, son?”
Um … what?
My body stills. That voice … No way. No freaking way.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Jason shouts, his voice taking on a scary angry tone. His entire body visibly tenses, and red creeps up the back of his neck.
“Baby girl?” Mr. Chapman calls. “Elena, come on out.”
A knot grows in my stomach and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying (unsuccessfully) to quill it.
Why is this happening? Why? What did I do to deserve all of this? I must have been incredibly evil in a past life or something.
When I open my eyes, Mr. Chapman stands in my line of sight. His salt and pepper hair is askew as though he’s been running his hands through it, but other than that, he looks put together, wearing pressed khaki pants with an olive green golf shirt. He’s shorter than Jason is, his face tilted up to look at him, and he’s smiling, a full, teeth flashing smile. It’s a mocking smile, if not judgmental.