by Lexxi James
“I need to ask you folks to head back to your room.”
Kathryn clutched the robe tighter around herself, burning with embarrassment.
Jake played it casual. “Sorry, I thought the pools were open twenty-four hours.”
Damn, this man has balls. I mean, bigger ones than my eyes-on verification proved.
“We’ve had complaints of loud cries . . .”
“Yeah?” Jake said, wrapping a tight arm around Kathryn, securing her to him before she could bolt.
The staff member nodded. “And we’ve got bobcats and cougars.”
Kathryn blew out a relieved breath. “Oh.”
Jake squeezed her side as he said, “Well, we heard it too. And it was definitely a wildcat of some sort. My money’s on a cougar.”
Glaring at him, she suffered the sting of being freshly branded.
Later, comfortable in their luxurious bed, Kathryn sighed as Jake tugged her body close to his. Her head relaxed into its permanent nightly home nestled in the crook of his neck. His free hand stroked through the strands of her damp hair. They both lay there, awake.
“I need to tell you something, Kathryn.”
Something in his low tone made her tense, a level of seriousness she hadn’t heard from him before. She looked up, studying his expression. “You can tell me anything.”
“You sure?”
No, she thought, but she sat up, bracing herself for the unknown impact of something important.
“Yes,” she said, confident she could conceal the worry in her eyes.
He sat up as well, and reached up to caress her cheek. “When this case is done, which might be very soon, what are your plans?”
Confused, she asked, “My plans?”
What plans? I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants since our first night. For the first time in my life, I have no plans.
With nothing to say, she stayed silent.
“Are you going home?” he asked.
She turned away. “I guess . . .”
“You guess?”
Something in his tone rubbed her wrong. Is he mocking me?
She looked back at Jake, and his cheesy grin made her collapse with relief in his arms. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, kitten,” he said before he kissed her softly. “What I’m doing is making sure you don’t have an escape plan. Because if it’s up to me, you’re never leaving. I’ve watched you for years, making sure you were all right. Protected. I love you, Kathryn. And I want you to move in with me.”
She cupped his face, softly rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “I love you too, Jake.”
Their lips met as they melted into each other, clinging to the moment. Again, her body begged for the hard rush of being made his.
Thirty
The ride home was the exact same distance as the ride to the resort, but it felt different, flying by so much faster than Kathryn preferred. She held tight to Jake’s hand, locked in a fantasy that had become her reality.
As they rolled up his driveway, a word hit her stronger than it ever had before.
Home.
She’d never moved in with a guy. Even with her husband, they didn’t move in together until after saying I do . . . which undoubtedly contributed to her biggest mistake.
She’d lived every moment of married life as an intruder. The house had been his, and he took every opportunity to mark it. A series of matrimonial missteps made wedded bliss an exhausting, eggshell-walking ordeal.
Her toothbrush should go here.
The cups don’t go there.
Although there were two walk-in closets in the master bedroom, they were taken, but she should feel free to use the others around the house.
From the second she’d moved in, divorce loomed closer. And the road to redemption would be filled with cold, mechanical, snore-worthy sex. For a guy who spent years fine-tuning his knowledge of anatomy, the surgeon extraordinaire couldn’t once find her clit. She’d once half considered drawing an arrow pointing to it using a Sharpie.
Jake was the polar opposite—easygoing and fun, with a dark side that made her wetter than a Slip ‘N Slide. Their bond was different. Deeper. A connection forged by his blood and her tears, forever binding them.
Jake insisted on a memorable entry into the house. No sooner had she hopped out of his truck than she was flung over his shoulder, butt up and giggling. “God, I love this gorgeous ass.”
“My eyes are down here,” she shouted from below.
“Pipe down,” he said with a strong smack on her cheek. Rubbing her jeans, he reminded her, “I’m not looking at your eyes.”
About to head to the stairs, their fun was interrupted by a call. With his phone in his back pocket, he asked, “Mind getting that?”
Upside down, she tugged the cell from his pocket and handed it to him.
“Hey, Scott.” Jake clicked it to speaker, then set Kathryn on her feet so he could talk with the detective. “Kathryn’s here too.”
“Jake, we got a break. A name.”
Jake’s hand smoothed over Kathryn’s shoulder as he responded. “If the name is Carter, we’ve got more investigating to do.”
Delaney’s irritation came through. “If you’re already two steps ahead of us, what the fuck are we doing? Pardon my French, Kathryn.”
“I’m an Army nurse, not a nun, Scott. And it’s not Jake and his team pumping the brakes. It’s me.” Kathryn’s calm pushed beyond her concern. “I wish I could say more, but it’s a very strong hunch.” Wincing, she said, “And there’s a Carter Reeves who is both military . . . and my ex-husband.”
“Say no more.” Delaney’s voice was insistent. “Let’s leave it at you’ve got a hunch. Let me know if I can help.”
Kathryn let out a small sigh of relief.
Jake pulled her close, tightening his hold with a soft kiss. With a telling gaze, he asked a question. “Since we’ve got you on the phone, Scott, we’re cleared to drop by Kathryn’s place so she can pick up a few things, right?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll meet you there. We’re done with her car. I can drop if off if you give me a ride back.”
“Deal,” Jake said, caressing Kathryn’s cheek and giving her a tender kiss as he disconnected the call.
Kathryn smiled, overflowing with excitement as they headed back to his beast of a truck to drive to her condo. Just a few months back, she’d pretty much written off romance. Before Jake, picturing herself as a spinster with a cat or two, or eight or nine, seemed inevitable.
But with the way his warm hand spread over her knee, any life without his touch would be impossible. Their connection was inescapable, not that she had any reason to flee. Her hand fell gently on his, giving it a lingering squeeze.
At her condo, Delaney was standing beside her HR-V, which was a sight for sore eyes.
As soon as they got out of the truck, Kathryn blurted, “I’ve missed you.”
Delaney’s grin was the largest she’d seen. “Well, at least someone appreciates me.”
She lifted off the ginormous hug she’d just given her car to pat him on the arm. “I always appreciate my favorite detective.”
Instantly, the silence filled with the unspoken questions about Carter. As she struggled to begin a sentence, Jake jumped in.
“Kathryn, how about you grab a few things? I’ll catch Scott up. My guess is he’s as glued to the indoors as I am, and the fresh air will do us both good.”
She nodded, keeping the PDA to a minimum with a subtle peck to his cheek. “I’ll put my car in the garage and grab a few things.”
“No rush. Take your time.” Between those bright hazel eyes and his dazzling smile, she needed just one more kiss.
The heavy, stale air of the condo hit her. Suddenly, very little about it seemed like the home she’d made for three years. As she passed the bathroom, the eerie feeling that someone had been watching her made her glad she was leaving.
In the bedroom, she grabbed a large suitcase she
rarely used, and began collecting her things.
From behind her, she heard a man ask, “Going somewhere?”
Thirty-One
Kathryn looked up at the man leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, his crazed eyes fixed on her, looking her up and down. “Artie? How did you get in here?”
He jingled a pair of keys in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting for you. For days now. The last time we were interrupted. This time,” he held up a knife—the largest from her butcher block, “it’s just you and me. And just in case you manage to slip away,” he opened his jacket, displaying a gun in a shoulder holster, “I’ve got you covered.”
He doesn’t know Jake and Scott are here. Calming herself, she asked, “What do you want?”
His menacing glare moved from her to the knife in his hands. “Don’t you know?”
That you’re a whack-job stalker? No clue, but you being at both the restaurants I was at should have been a big freaking red flag.
Slowly, she shook her head.
“I want what any man would want. At first, just to fuck you, then kill you. But now . . .” He pressed the knife to the comforter, dragging it down the bed and slicing through the fabric.
Her heart pounding, she said, “You don’t have to—”
“You’re a hard person to find, even with the military grade tracker I hid in your purse. You kept vanishing into thin air, but you always came back out of your little hiding place. And I was right there. Watching you while you teased me. In your shower. Slowly stripping at that spa. Fucking that guy right in front of me.”
“Art, we can—”
“You know what I’d like right now? I’d like you to call me by my name.” The flat blade of the knife was at her cheek. “Come on, Kathryn. Let’s see how much you’ve figured out. Everyone thinks my first name is Arthur. But you’re too smart for that, aren’t you?” His eyes turned cold. “Say it.”
The realization was instant, forcing her eyes shut. Her throat dry, she could only whisper, shuddering as she said, “Carter.”
“See, I knew you had it. Now, this is why I need to take my time. Which should be fun for both of us, since you’re into that, right? Someone tying you up and beating the shit out of you while they fuck you?”
Uncontrollably, her head shook.
He snatched a fistful of her hair, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do you have any idea what a senior-ranking enlisted man makes in retirement? Pennies,” he shouted. “I gave twenty-four years of my life to the military. Been in war zones over a dozen times. Medals upon medals that didn’t add up to shit in the real world. But I found the fatal flaw in the system, and the money rolled in. See, I had brains, and a few friends who never had an issue with killing. The way I never had issues with killing.”
He let the knife gleam before her eyes. “It’s your turn to suffer. You destroyed everything I worked for. Recruiting. Building. Finding the perfect marks. Moving the money. Funding the fucking premiums out of my own pocket. Making sure people died when they were supposed to. Years and years of work. And you, asking people questions, and writing down every word in that fucking notebook.” He gripped her hair tighter and yanked at her head. “Where is it?”
The tip of the knife poked through her shirt, pricking her skin.
A loud knock came from the corridor. “Hello?” rang through the condo.
Scott.
The knife pressed, the sharp blade forcing a gasp from her throat as she thought fast. “I left the garage open. They’re delivering my new laptop. It needs a signature.” When Art hesitated, she shouted, “Just a minute. You need a signature for the laptop, right?”
Silence.
She swallowed hard, forcing every breath in and out.
Come on, Scott. Please . . . you’ve got to have a hunch. Trust your gut feeling.
A moment later, the voice boomed from the door. “Yes, ma’am. Just a quick signature, and I’ll be on my way.”
Art’s eyes shifted back and forth, as if processing it all. He jerked her arm. “Try anything, and you’ll be the reason this guy dies too.”
When she nodded solemnly, he released her arm, whispering in her ear, “I’m right behind you.”
Delaney stood outside the front door she’d left ajar, wearing his sunglasses and holding a box—the empty laptop box from the last delivery.
Slowly, she approached the door, very aware of the sting of the knife at her side.
Irate, Delaney shifted from foot to foot as he huffed. “Lady, listen I’m trying to be patient, but I don’t got all day. Can you sign, already?” When she paused at the cracked door, he looked up as if rolling his eyes. “Seriously, I’m not allowed in. You’re gonna have to open this a little wider.”
Glancing back at Art, she waited.
Delaney’s voice boomed. “Today, lady!”
Art’s nudge at her shoulder was all she needed.
The second she pulled the door open wider, Delaney yanked her outside, tossing her behind him as Jake stormed past them into the condo.
Frantic at the scuffle she heard inside, she shouted, “Jake!”
With his weapon drawn, Delaney gave her a stern look as he shouted, “Stay here! Backup’s on the way.” Then he pushed his way into the condo.
Panicked, she screamed, “But he’s got a—”
Her warning was interrupted by the sharp, unforgiving crack of a gunshot.
Thirty-Two
There’s nothing a former ER nurse knows better than what to expect in an emergency. But none of that had prepared Kathryn for this.
The body does strange things in a state of shock. Hers stayed numb as her hands took over, going through the motions of saving Jake’s life. Her reactions and emotions were shut off, allowing her medical training to take over. At least, long enough for the ambulance to arrive.
Knowing too well what would come, her brain ticked off the steps.
Ambulance ride? Twenty minutes.
Surgery prep? Almost no time if the team was ready.
Surgery? She couldn’t know for sure. An hour. Maybe two. Damage to the body would dictate that. Bleeding would be a big concern, but could be controlled to some degree with a transfusion.
Other potential variables she considered ratcheted her worry higher—damaged organs, broken bones, spinal impact.
Each breath nearly choked her. Every minute seemed to stand completely still.
And then, there was Art. Barely a scratch on him. Hollow-eyed, his sadistic grin was too much. The bastard enjoyed the pain he’d inflicted, like a sick motherfucking serial killer. She turned away, wholly unsatisfied as the officers carted him off to jail.
At the hospital, Detective Delaney stayed by her side until her friends arrived to take over. Rubbing her hand. Forcing sips of water on her. Being there in a way that had nothing to do with medicine, and everything to do with helping their best friend. But she barely noticed them.
All she saw were the swinging doors that Jake had been taken through. The ones that anyone with news would return from. Unwavering, her stare stayed fixed on them.
And with every blink, visions of his body lurked at the front of her mind. Lifeless. Colorless. Almost . . . dead.
Finally, she caved, overcome with all the emotions she’d suppressed. Sobbing, she broke down as her friends huddled around her, comforting her as best they could without a word.
But Jake had been there before, blazing through death’s door to return to life. To her.
Come back, Jake. I need you.
Thirty-Three
As she alternated between pacing, sitting, and sobbing for an hour, Kathryn finally got some news.
Jake was stable. He’d be unconscious for a while, but the news snapped her from despondent to determined. She had to see him, and ran through the scenario.
The first stop on his long road to recovery would be the intensive care unit. He wouldn’t be moved from the ICU until the attending physician felt confident that Jake’s vitals would hold.
Heavy sedation was expected after an aggressive operation. So, visiting hours were unlikely at all today. And let’s not forget—visits in his condition were restricted to family. But bullshit rules were made to be broken.
She wouldn’t exactly be waiting for an engraved invitation but barging down the hallways of a hospital would only get her kicked out.
She needed a plan.
Scrubs and a cap were easy enough to come by, and instantly give her the power of invisibility. But she couldn’t move freely without an ID badge, and this wasn’t her stomping ground.
She pulled the Kat card, summoning Thelma and Louise, and they did what BFFs do. Dana handed over her badge, while Laurie walked her through the hospital layout. They hugged Kathryn for luck, and emphasized that if she got caught, they don’t know her.
Kathryn breezed through endless hallways and passed half a dozen nursing stations before finally finding Jake’s room. He was peacefully asleep, his breathing assisted by a ventilator. Oxygen was being pushed through a tube down his throat, keeping him going until his body was strong enough to take over.
She studied the monitor. His vitals were good, strong for a badass who’d battled death twice. She reached out, examining his morphine line. The drips were steady. She ran a hand down his body as she stepped to the end of the bed where she snagged his chart. The penmanship was atrocious, and she could barely make out some of what it said.
F in penmanship. A+ in surgery. You do you, Doc. And with enough squinting, I’ll figure out the chicken scratch.
“Oh, Doctor.” A soft voice came from the doorway. “How’s he doing?”
Kathryn spun around but couldn’t speak. She’d know this woman anywhere, though she didn’t know her personally. Her online presence preceded her, though her appearance now was a far contrast from her internet persona. Red-eyed and weepy, the woman entered, dabbing her makeup-free face with a wad of tissue. Ready or not—and Kathryn knew the answer was not—she was meeting Chelsea Anders.