The Devil You Know

by Morgan James

  Blake examined her for a moment before responding, watching as she rubbed her hands briskly over her arms as if to dispel a chill. Considering it was almost eighty-five degrees outside, he seriously doubted it was the weather. She’d been through a lot lately, and he understood her discomfort. “I’m going to clear the house. Do you have your keys?” She automatically extended her hand toward him to pass them over, but he wrapped his hand around hers and curled her fingers closed over the keyring. “I want you to get in the car and lock the doors. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come in.”

  Her eyes flared wide. “I’m not leaving you in there alone.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He studied her for a second. “If you’re sure.”

  Blake held out his hand and she slipped her palm into his. A sense of déjà vu swept over him, reminding him of the events that had transpired just twenty-four hours ago. With Victoria on his heels, he cautiously made his way up the porch to the small house. Ears and eyes alert, he stepped inside.

  Parallel to the hallway leading to the back of the house, a set of stairs lay directly in front of him, and he glanced up to the second level. Seeing nothing amiss, he turned to his right and passed through the large archway to the living room. He canvassed the room and moved on to the kitchen, dining room, and downstairs office. Although everyday clutter dotted the surfaces, nothing appeared to be out of place. Moving upstairs, they checked each bedroom and bathroom, every closet and possible hiding place.

  He paused at the top of the stairs and gave Victoria’s hand a reassuring squeeze. In the fading light of the evening, her face looked drawn and haunted. “Everything looks good to me. How about you?”

  Her mouth twisted, and her cheeks were tinted red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. It was silly and—”

  Blake slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing her head to his chest. “If it meant making sure you were safe, it wasn’t a waste of time.”

  He breathed her in, relishing the feel of her in his arms. He’d lied to Con. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay away from her. The need to have her was overwhelming, like the most addictive drug. There was some indefinable quality that connected them, and though he’d only known her for a week-and-a-half, he wanted more—more of her sweet kisses, more of her shy little looks. He wanted to know everything about her.

  He pushed her gently in the direction of her room. “Why don’t you go change and I’ll start some dinner?”

  She threw him a bemused look over her shoulder, but she went willingly and Blake jogged back downstairs. As he passed the front door, he checked to make sure it was locked then headed toward the kitchen. He rooted through the pantry and fridge before deciding on a simple meal of chicken and vegetables, and he’d just added everything to the pan when a soft sound behind him drew his attention.

  He met Victoria’s eyes across the room and gestured to the small table situated in the corner breakfast nook. “Have a seat, it’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”

  He served up the food and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, placing everything on the table in front of Victoria. Her expression bewildered and a bit disturbed, she picked up her fork and began to eat. After several moments, she finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

  “This is nice, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve never eaten here before.”

  Blake shot her a confused glance. “At home?”

  She shook her head. “At this table.” Her words were soft as if afraid she was revealing too much. “I don’t cook much. Even when I do, I usually just eat in the living room on the couch.”

  She traced a finger over a dark woodgrain running through the table. “It’s just me, so... there’s not usually much reason to cook.”

  He studied her for a moment before scooping up another forkful of food. “Your boyfriend hasn’t stayed for dinner?”

  Her cheeks pinkened. “I don’t have... I’ve never...”

  He raised a brow. “Really? You’ve never invited a man over for dinner?”

  She didn’t answer, just dropped her embarrassed gaze to her plate, and a strange surge of pleasure washed over him. “Well, this is a first for me, too, then. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed dinner this much. I was in the field so long that I haven’t had much chance to spend time with a beautiful woman.”

  A delicate red flush made its way up her neck and across her cheeks, and the sight brought a smile to his face. He loved it when she blushed like that. “I mean, I go home to see my mom when I have a chance. I love her and all, but it’s just not the same.” He shot her a teasing smile and Victoria chuckled, a soft, sultry sound that sent sparks of awareness straight to his groin.

  “Now I know you’re lying. A guy like you would have no problem getting any woman you want.”

  He shook his head. “Just one.”

  Victoria’s brow furrowed at his statement and he almost laughed. Did she really not know how he felt? After the kiss they’d shared last week, he’d been certain she knew where he stood.

  She, however, was a mystery. He’d seen her exit a car this morning that clearly wasn’t hers, and the driver had looked suspiciously male. Was it the same guy from last night? And was he just a friend, or was he... more? She’d just admitted that she didn’t have a boyfriend and that a man had never stayed over.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She shrugged. “A little sore from my tumble down the stairs, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Did you get to see Dr. Winfield?”

  “I stopped by the hospital today.” Victoria forked up some chicken. “Everything’s good, but the cut required a ton of stitches.”

  Blake grimaced. “I’m sure. It looked awful.”

  He could sense the change in her as they spoke of the incident, and he didn’t want her to draw away again. He needed to keep her here in this moment with him.

  “So,” he changed the subject, “tell me about yourself, Doc.”

  Her posture stiffened and her eyes dropped to her plate. “Not much to tell. What about you? How long were you in the military?”

  He took another bite of food to cover his surprise at her abrupt deflection. Swallowing, he cleared his throat. “Sixteen years.”

  Her eyes flared with surprise. “That’s a long time. Couldn’t you have retired soon?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m getting old and I decided it was time to get out. My body can’t handle that kind of shit anymore.”

  “So you moved home?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “My parents are back in Wisconsin. A buddy of mine from the Marines had this idea to start a private security firm, so I jumped on board. I didn’t know what I was going to do once I was discharged, so his offer came at the perfect time.”

  She tipped her head, studying him with those perceptive gray eyes. “Have you been adjusting well?”

  It struck him at once how good Victoria was at her job. She spoke to him like a friend, rather than making him feel like a specimen under a microscope. Was that her only interest—to help him as a doctor rather than a prospective lover? He lifted a shoulder. “Yes and no. We all have our demons, it’s just a matter of not allowing them to control us.”

  She tensed at his statement, fork suspended in midair, an array of emotions passing over her face. Curious but not wanting to pry, he leaned back in his seat and studied her. “Did you grow up here?”

  She met his eyes and shook her head. “I’m originally from Ohio.”

  “So, what brought you to Texas?”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I needed a change. My grandparents live near Snyder, so I moved down here about ten years ago, went to school at UT, and I’ve stayed ever since.”

  Her story was succinct, and he instinctively knew she’d left out a lot of very important details. Determined to win her trust, he teased her. “Couldn’t have picked
somewhere a little cooler?”

  At that, she smiled. “It can get really cold in Ohio in the wintertime, so it’s kind of a welcome change to have warm weather all year round. On the other hand, I do miss having a white Christmas.”

  He nodded. “I can imagine. Winter in Wisconsin lasts about six months, or so it seems. I’ve only been here for a few weeks, so we’ll see how I feel a year from now.”

  She smiled. “I had no idea you’d just moved here.”

  “Yep. Just over a month now. Con—my buddy—and I met down here to check out a building he’d bought in the Industrial District. It pretty much had to be gutted, but he hired a construction company to come in and renovate the place. It’s almost ready to go.”

  “Are you finding your way around okay?”

  “So far.” He tipped his head at her. “Although I really don’t have much reason to go out. Maybe once I settle in more.” He smiled at her. “Are you offering to show me around?”

  She blushed. “Well, I just thought... Never mind, it was silly.” She stood and picked up her plate, moving to stride past him. Snaking a hand out, he grasped her wrist, freezing her in her tracks. She physically recoiled, and the plate slipped from her fingers, shattering on the tile floor. He immediately released her, shocked at her response.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He slowly rose from the chair so as to not frighten her. “I’ll get this cleaned up if you tell me where the broom is.”

  “No, I—” Her voice broke and he cut her off.

  “Doc, look at me.” She reluctantly met his gaze. “It was my fault. Let me take care of it.”

  She studied him for a moment before swallowing hard. “I have a broom and dustpan in the pantry.”

  He nodded. “I’ll handle it. Why don’t you head up to bed? I’ll crash down here on the couch.”

  “You’re staying?” Victoria’s voice shook.

  “I was planning to. Unless you prefer I leave?” He leaned a hip against the table, studying her.

  After a moment, she shook her head. “You can stay.”

  Once again she was putting the ball in his court, unwilling to admit outright that she wanted him. But, of everyone she could have called, she’d chosen him. He wouldn’t push her—yet. Her concession was enough for now.

  With a nod, he went to retrieve the broom. “I’m going to clean up then check the windows and doors. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  Victoria silently faded from the room, and he pondered her reaction. What the hell had set her off? They seemed to have been getting along, so what had changed? Last week, even earlier this evening when he’d held her, she seemed perfectly fine. But the moment he’d grabbed her wrist, everything had changed. Her anxiety was borne out of more than just a recent scare—it was a deeply ingrained response. She refused to talk about her past, glossing over the details and jerking away from his touch. What had happened to her?

  He made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen then made his way through the house, checking each door and window to make sure they were locked up tight. Satisfied that everything was good, he headed into the living room. Sinking onto the couch, he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Was he reading her totally wrong? Was she not interested in him or was it something else, something that ran deeper, tied into a past she didn’t want to talk about? He listened to her move around upstairs. The water turned on, presumably for her shower, and he stifled a groan.

  Propping his feet on the coffee table, Blake picked up the remote. Turning on the TV, he flipped through channels until he came to a crime show. The lamp on the end table kicked off at eleven o’clock, triggered by an automatic timer, and Blake turned off the TV with a sigh and settled in for a night of restless sleep.

  Although the couch was large and comfortable, he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Sometime around midnight, he heard a soft creak on the stairs. Seconds later, Victoria’s wraith-like figure appeared in the doorway of the living room. She stood there, shifting from foot to foot for several moments before she finally spoke, her voice soft and timid.

  “Blake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I freaked out on you earlier.”

  He pushed himself to a sitting position. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Silence descended heavily over the room and he held his breath, afraid that he’d pushed too hard, afraid that she would flee to the sanctuary of her room. He was eager to know more about her, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

  She hesitated for a moment before moving closer to the couch and propping a hip on the armrest. Blake turned his body toward her, examining her silhouette in the darkness, highlighted by the moonlight coming through the window. She took a deep breath, her breasts heaving with the motion, and he shifted uncomfortably as his arousal swelled, pressing against his zipper.

  “You know Monique Henderson’s killer contacted me from the murder scene?” Blake nodded at the rhetorical question and she took a deep breath before continuing. “He didn’t ask for me, exactly.”

  He froze, tension turning his muscles to stone, his mind racing with possibilities. Why the hell would she lie about that? QSG had been called in specifically because of the murder. They’d been under the impression that she was at risk because the killer had contacted her. If she was playing some kind of twisted game... Anger burned through him and he drew a deep breath into his lungs. Before he could speak, Victoria continued.

  “I had a bad experience back in high school. I didn’t want to finish out the year up there, and I moved down here my senior year. I just had to get away.” His brow furrowed and she stared at the floor, unwilling to look at him, lost in some memory ten years old. “My real name is Bekah Baker. He asked for me—for Bekah. He knows who I am.”

  Blake sucked in a breath and a red haze filled his vision. Christ. She should have told him sooner. If he’d known some asshole was stalking her, had been after her for God knew how long, he could’ve been better prepared. This changed things completely.

  “Jesus, Doc, why the hell—” He abruptly cut off his response and forced himself to take a deep breath before continuing, this time more calmly than before. “Do you know who it is?”

  She shook her head. “No. The police never found out back then”—she waved her hand as if to emulate the past—“and Detective Sanchez told me earlier they don’t have any suspects yet for Monique’s murder.”

  Goddamn it. It was on the tip of his tongue to push for the truth, demand she tell him what happened, but he swallowed the words. His hands balled into fists and he took another steadying breath. “Doc, look at me.” Her gaze met his and she swallowed hard. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.”

  She hesitated for a minute, wrapping her arms around her waist before finally nodding. “Would you mind if I... sat with you for a bit? I can’t sleep.”

  “Of course.” He stretched a welcoming arm over the back of the couch and she slinked closer, taking a seat next to him and curling her feet beneath her. He forced his muscles to relax, though anger still thrummed forcefully through his body. He was upset that she hadn’t told him, but he couldn’t really blame her. She was scared, and she obviously didn’t trust anyone, not even him. But he’d change that. “Not tired?”

  She shook her head. “Still too worked up. I’m sorry you came all the way over here for nothing.”

  “I told you before—it’s worth it to me if it made you feel better.”

  She turned a sweet smile on him and his insides flamed. “Thank you.”

  “Any time. And, Doc?” He studied her for a moment. “I meant what I said.”

  Even in the dark, he could see the dark blush staining her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. Deciding not to push her any further this evening, he gestured toward the TV. “Do you want to watch something?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want is fine.”

  He flipped the TV on and settled into the
corner of the couch. She sank back into the cushions, almost within his embrace. Her shoulder was just inches from his hand, and he stroked his thumb over the flesh of her upper arm. From the corner of his eye, he watched her body stiffen at the initial contact. He kept his touch light and soothing, and her muscles gradually loosened as she eased into him. After a few minutes, he felt Victoria’s body start to relax, and he shifted her closer. Her breathing slowed, turning deep and even, and he knew she was asleep. Trying to jostle her as little as possible, he flicked off the TV then scooped her into his arms. She nestled against him with a soft, sweet exhalation, and she curved one arm around his neck. He stood from the couch and made his way up the stairs.

  Her bedroom lay at the end of the hall, the subtle vanilla scent pulling him closer. He propped a knee on the edge of the mattress and reluctantly deposited her in the middle before pulling the covers over her.

  “Blake?” Her voice was raspy, and she groggily reached for him.

  He brushed a hand over her hair. “I’m right here.”

  “Don’t go.”

  A war raged within him. “Are you sure?”

  Her head bobbed in a disoriented nod, her voice heartbreakingly soft and vulnerable. “Stay.”

  “I’ll be right here.” Blake stretched out on top of the covers, folding his hands behind his head.

  He stared at the ceiling for a long time, wondering about the woman beside him and the past she kept hidden before falling into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Light slowly infiltrated the dark and Blake blinked several times, disoriented for a moment as something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head and smiled. Snuggled up against his side, Victoria had crept closer to him while she slept until her head lay on his pillow just inches from his face.

  At some point during the night, she’d whimpered and begun to struggle against the confines of the sheets. He’d slid in next to her, then pulled her close and held her until she’d calmed and fallen back to sleep. Now the heat from her body surrounded him and the sensation made him want to pull the covers over their heads and not surface for days. Levering himself to a sitting position, he reluctantly slid out from under the covers and stretched, his vertebrae popping as they shifted back into place. From behind him, he heard the faint rustling of sheets and turned to find Victoria’s sleepy gray eyes on him.