He looks proud of himself.
Proud and amused.
I lose my temper.
I storm out of the kitchen without thought. I no longer notice the police officers, or even Jason for that matter. All I see is Mr. Chapman.
The man I trusted.
The man I cared about.
The man I believed in.
His smile grows and softens when he sees me, his entire face lighting up, and it pisses me off even more. Heat sears through me, boiling my blood, my skin, every inch of me.
I stop in front of him and he opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him the chance. I hit him. I hit him so hard I hear it. I hit him so hard my palm stings and throbs.
For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing that murder wasn’t illegal.
I pull my arm back again, this time clenching my fist. I want to hit him again. Hit him hard enough to break his damn nose.
Mr. Chapman snatches my hand and leans into me. I expect to see rage in his expression, but it’s not there. He looks … hurt. Not physically, it’s as though I wounded him down to his soul, but I don’t care.
I can’t care.
He sold me out.
He gave me up to Peck.
“Get your hands off of me!” I shriek, jerking my arm away.
He lets go—instantly—his eyes widening at my outburst. He’s never heard me raise my voice, let alone shriek. I was always quiet with him, biting my tongue, too scared to do much more.
I feel Jason’s heat hit my back just before his arm snakes around my waist. He maneuvers me, tugging me to his side and tucking me in, so my front is snug against his side. The hold is a mix of protective and possessive as he swivels until he has placed himself between me and everyone else in the room.
Mr. Chapman stares at me, and then stares at Jason, before staring at us both, his eyes wide and mouth open. He finally settles his eyes on Jason. “Get your hands off her.”
Jason says nothing and he doesn’t let go.
I glare at Mr. Chapman.
I want to tell him to get out. I want to tell him to shut the hell up, but I’m so mad that I can’t seem to spit out any words.
“Elena,” Jason says, ignoring his father, and I look up at him to find that he is grinning, no teeth, but grinning enough to make both his dimples pop out. “Go wait in the kitchen. Make some coffee, yeah?”
Um … what? What, what, what? He wants me to make coffee? I glare at him. I glare so hard it hurts my eyes. “You want me to make coffee.”
“Yeah, darlin’,” he says. His eyes flick to the cops, and then back to me. He leans into me, his lips coming to my ear. “I promise I’ll let you beat the shit out of him later.”
I clear my throat, readying myself to tell him no, but he pulls back and smiles, this time with teeth, and his amused eyes twinkle down at me.
I stall for a moment, taken aback by his amusement. I have no idea what to do. Tell Jason this isn’t funny? Yell at Mr. Chapman? Get away from all the cops and make the darn coffee?
I just don’t know.
I decide to try and play it cool, but there’s one little problem with my plan. I’m not feeling very cool.
In fact, I’m shaking with both rage and nerves.
Shaking so much that I can’t seem to make my feet move.
Shoot.
The police officers are watching me. So is the guy in the plain clothes. They’re all grinning, some full out smiling.
Oh boy.
This is not good.
Jason squeezes my waist, and then lets me go. And somehow, even though my knees are shaking and my stomach is flipping, I manage to walk back to the kitchen without falling flat on my face.
Jason
“I’ve got to bring her in, Jase,” Cruz whispers as I watch Elena make her way back to the kitchen.
I’m grinning like a lunatic. I can’t believe she hit my old man. Didn’t think she’d have the guts to do something like that, but I’m so goddamn proud of her.
“You wanna question her, you do it here,” I say. “She’ll freak the fuck out if you take her into a police station.”
He narrows his eyes angrily at my demand, silently telling me that I’m overstepping my bounds. “I don’t have a choice. Her fiancée called in her location. He’s worried about her. I’ve got to bring her in.”
I stare at him, considering how to respond. “Can’t let you take her, Cruz. There’s more going on here than you know.”
He glares at me.
He looks furious.
Folding his arms over his chest, he leans in until his face is a few inches from mine. I can feel the heat coming from him; smell the laundry soap from his clothes, mixed with sweat. “Enlighten me.”
Gritting my teeth, my gaze shifts to the officers. They’re all watching me, looking amused and interested. “She’ll talk to you, but you’ve gotta clear everyone else out.”
“I’m not leaving here without that girl,” my old man growls. “I told her I’d help her.”
I turn to my old man. “You’re the one that fuckin’ gave her up!”
“Son—”
I shake my head. Whatever he’s got to say, I don’t want to hear it. “Get the fuck outta my house.”
“I did this for her,” he continues. “The sooner this is dealt with the better. She can bait him—”
His voice is slowly pulling me apart, piece by agonizing piece. I stare at him hard, feeling years upon years of rage and pain and betrayal bubble up to the surface.
I want to lash out.
I want to strike him down.
I want to grab all the shit I have on him and turn him in to the cops filling my doorway.
“What’s going on?” Cruz snaps, cutting off my old man. “Bait who?”
My gaze shifts to Cruz, and he steps back, seeing the fury in my eyes. “It’s the fuckin’ cop she’s running from. The one you called an upstanding citizen last night. The one …” I stop, clearing my throat when my voice catches, because I know I sound just as angry as I feel and I don’t want Elena to hear it.
Cruz’s brow furrows and he looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “Are you sure?”
I nod. Of course I’m sure. Elena can’t lie for shit. I’d know if she were lying about the cop.
My cell phone chimes with an incoming message and I stall in responding, digging it out and opening up the message.
Liam: Lost Peck.
Me: Where did you last see him?
Liam: At the airport. He went through security and boarded before I could get a ticket and follow.
Shiiiit. The prick isn’t wasting any time, is he?
Me: He’s coming here. What’s the flight time from NY to Sac?
Liam: Five hours, thirty-four minutes.
Five and a half hours, with boarding time factored in we probably have six and a half hours before he’s here and off the plane.
Six and a half hours ...
Me: Find the brother and wait for word.
Liam: I’m on it.
Me: Call Wes and Vance and tell them to get to my place, yeah?
Liam: Will do.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I look at Cruz who is looking back at me, incredulously. “Peck just boarded a plane. We’ve got five hours and thirty-four minutes to come up with a plan to keep that prick away from my woman.”
Cruz raises a brow, smirks, and shakes his head. “Your woman?”
“Yeah,” I say. “My woman.”
Elena
I’m sitting in the kitchen staring out the window. My feet are on the chair, heels tucked tight to my butt, and my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. The smell of rich coffee fills the air, soothing my frazzled nerves.
Wes is standing in the doorway behind me. I think he’s on the Elena Run Watch. I find it amusing, really. Jason retrieved the Taser from the car for me, which I have resting on top of my knees. If I wanted to leave, I could easily drop Wes and do just that.
 
; Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be that easy. I’d have to reload, shoot Jason again, shoot a detective, four cops, and Mr. Chapman, but I could do it.
Except … I don’t want to go.
What’s the point? Peck will just track me down again.
And again.
And again.
He’s not going to give up. I’ll be running forever. Running and hiding. Hiding and running.
Definitely not the kind of life I want. Not anymore.
Mostly, I want to see Mr. Chapman. Maybe shoot him a few times with my Taser. I can’t quite wrap my head around his betrayal. It’s too fresh and hurts far too much right now to see his supposedly good intentions.
He’s somewhere in the house right now. Perhaps that’s why Wes is on sentry duty. Jason, with his voodoo mind reading talents, probably saw right through me the second he handed me the stupid Taser.
I’ve been sitting here for almost thirty minutes now. Every so often, another cop comes in, fills up his mug with coffee, and then filters back out.
No one will tell me what’s going on.
But then, I haven’t asked, either.
In the background, I can hear Jason. He’s angry. He’s hurting. I bet he’s working hard to not throttle his dad. He’s talking to Vance and that detective. They’re talking about me. I can hear my name whispered over and over, but not much else.
It’s probably better that way, I think.
I don’t think I want to know what their plans are.
Not yet, at least.
It’s barely eleven in the morning. The clock ticks, ticks, ticks, from its place on the wall above the table. Do these guys ever sleep? Wes looks wiped and I bet Vance is, too. And the detective, he’s had less sleep than any of us has had.
Suddenly, there seems to be something happening in the hallway. There’s a commotion, voices raised, feet clomping.
I grip the Taser, pointing it at the door while my body curls in on itself, my knees coming tighter to my chest, my chin pressing into my knees.
Wes eyes me cautiously, moving to the left out of the doorway, but he doesn’t say a word. I almost laugh. He probably doesn’t want to draw my attention just in case I have another accident.
The footsteps get louder.
My heartbeat stays calm, my breathing, even. It surprises me, but I don’t give it much thought. Maybe my body is just too wrung out to panic anymore.
My gaze fixes itself on the doorway. I hear Jason let out a string of curses, and then the detective fills the doorway.
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
The guy doesn’t appear to notice the Taser or if he does, it doesn’t bother him. He looks to be about Jason’s age, maybe a year or two older, and he’s tall, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. His jaw is square. His hair is thick and cut short. He’s wearing jeans, a coffee-colored tee, tan boots, and there is a badge clipped to his belt at his right hip.
“Elena Reed?” he asks in a deep voice. He doesn’t make a move to come closer, only stands there with an easy smile, watching me.
I nod, my chin rubbing against my knee as I do it. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Detective Jacob Cruz,” he says. “You mind if I come in and chat with you for a minute?”
My brow furrows. He’s asking me as though I have a choice in the matter, as though if I say no, he would leave, but I doubt that’s the case.
I almost say no.
My mind screams for me to say no.
If only to see if he will in fact turn around and leave.
But I don’t. I promised Jason I’d talk to him.
I nod again, tightening my steady grip on the Taser. If he notices, he doesn’t let on. He keeps his eyes on mine as he walks into the kitchen. He seems relaxed enough. I wonder if he truly is or if it’s an act to calm me. He grabs a chair, turning it around to face me and takes a seat.
We stare at each other, neither of us speaking. Seconds pass, turning into minutes as his eyes study me, his expression serious, and then he smiles a genuine, full smile.
Wow.
He has a great smile. Great teeth. White and straight. That smile makes him look younger and carefree.
“You changed your hair,” he says, his gaze raking over my head. “I like it.”
I smile back hesitantly. “Thank you.”
I hear more footsteps in the hall and my eyes swing to the doorway, just as Jason fills it. His eyes hit mine, and then they drop to my hand and he frowns. “You doing okay, darlin’?”
The question strikes me as odd and I shake my head, half-disbelieving and half-aggressive. “I’m fine,” I tell him, because, of course, I’m okay. He gave me the Taser back. I’m fine. Just peachy.
He walks to me, moving in close to my side, and his hand comes to the back of my neck, squeezing gently. “You don’t look fine.”
Unwinding my arms from my legs while keeping the Taser steady, I look up. As I study him for a moment, I shift on the chair, bringing my legs down and crossing them. His eyes are tight, his jaw ticks. There are no dimples, no lip twitches.
“Neither do you,” I tell him, my voice whisper soft.
He chuckles, but there is no mirth in the sound. “I’m not the one pointing a Taser at a cop, darlin’,” he points out.
My mouth goes slightly slack-jawed and I blink.
Right, the Taser. Perhaps his question isn’t that odd after all.
“You noticed that, huh?” I ask, dropping my eyes from his.
His hand gives my neck another light squeeze and he chuckles again. “Yeah, darlin’, I noticed.”
Right. Of course he noticed. Jason Pierce misses nothing.
“I … um … I ...” I’m stammering, struggling to get out something that might make this situation okay. I don’t want to drop the Taser. It’s my safety net. I need it. I need that safety.
I look at the detective, pleading with my eyes.
“She’s fine,” Detective Cruz says, his lips twitching up with another great smile. “I need to ask you a few questions. You up for that?”
I shrug. “Um … yeah, I guess.”
Cruz looks up at Jason and jerks his chin toward the door. “You mind, Pierce?”
Jason moves in closer, his hip pressing against my shoulder tightly and his hand squeezing the back of my neck lightly. His pose feels possessive, but his hand at the back of my neck, and the way his thumb strokes along the side of my throat … it feels reassuring, comforting, telling me that he’s here, that he isn’t leaving my side.
“Ask away,” he says shortly.
Cruz takes in Jason’s stance and shakes his head. “Gonna need you to step out, Jase,” he says. “Don’t want you influencing what she tells me.”
“She won’t talk to you without me here,” Jason shoots back, giving my neck another light squeeze. He’s completely confident in his statement, and he is not wrong. I don’t want him to leave.
Cruz’s eyes drift over my face thoughtfully, before he says, “She won’t tell me the truth about you and her relationship with you while you’re standing here.”
For some reason, watching them bicker back and forth on whether or not I’ll lie to them strikes me as amusing and I let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Yes, I will. And besides that, I’m told I suck at lying.”
Detective Cruz stares at me for a moment, before nodding, giving me a soft smile. “Are you sure it was Officer Peck who called you this morning?”
I nod. “Um … yes.”
“Tell me what happened between you and him,” he says gently. “Start from the beginning, from when you first met.”
I suck in a breath.
This is it.
This is the moment of truth.
He’ll believe me or he won’t. Either way, Peck will still come for me.
I meet the detective’s eyes. They’re gentle, caring, watching me as though he wants nothing more than to hear my story.
Another deep breath.
And another.
/>
And another.
Then, I open my mouth and I tell him everything.
Chapter Twenty
Jason
“Jason, stop it and listen to me,” Richard fucking Chapman says, planting himself in my path. “I did this for her.”
I swallow back a bark of humorless laughter. He did this for her. Doesn’t matter how I try to look at it or rationalize it, the words ring false.
My mother stands behind him, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to respond. I’m not sure what she expects me to say. My glare is pretty self-explanatory, I think. It clearly states: I’m in hell.
I’ve been trapped in the same house with my old man following me around, trying to talk to me for the last three hours, and my mother is in on it.
I’m not sure who called her, but she showed up shortly after Vance and Wes arrived. It was tense at first between them, but somehow in the last hour or so my old man has managed to weasel his way in and gain her support.
They’ve been reminiscing.
They’ve been laughing.
They’ve been acting as though they’re the best of friends, as though nothing happened.
It’s making me think about things that I have no place thinking about anymore. Making me remember things that I wish would stay buried.
It’s fucking hell.
My old man was a lot of things, some good, some not. When he was there, he was a good father and an attentive husband. He doted on my mother. He did all the father/son bonding stuff.
We were his everything.
But things changed. He changed.
He became someone I didn’t know. He became a cheater, not just with Mona, but in life. He started looking for the easy way out. Want a promotion? Make a deal with a criminal for a fake bust. Need money? Rip off the same douche bag you just made a deal with.