“Other pocket,” he grunted.
Wordlessly, her hand went to his other pocket and Weston was damn grateful his dick was out of her reach. Silver pulled his keys free and he felt her hand brush his ass as she shoved them in her jeans, then quickly plastered herself against his back.
He started to walk toward the door but stopped briefly to pat her clasped hands around his waist. “Can’t have you holding onto me in case I need to move. Just stay close.”
She nodded her answer against his back and took a half-step away from him. And just like before, Weston immediately felt the loss of her touch.
He toed the already-cracked front door open. With his gun pulled up and at the ready, he scanned the front room and was damn happy Silver was shorter than him and her view would be obscured.
The place was completely ransacked, all of her shit torn to pieces. How no one below her apartment heard the bookcases being knocked over, Weston did not know. He also didn’t know how the hell he was going to maneuver around the room without stepping on books, broken glass, ripped-open couch cushions, and tipped-over chairs.
But he needed to hurry the hell up and figure it out so he could clear the house. Making a decision he didn’t want to make but knew he had to, Weston reached behind him and took Silver’s hand and skirted the wall until he found a place to stash her.
“Stay right here, with your back to the wall,” he whispered.
He didn’t have to be looking at her to know the moment she saw the devastation. The quick inhalation of air and whimper was enough. As much as he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, he couldn’t—there were three more rooms to clear.
Weston tried to pull his hand out of hers but she held tight. He glanced over his shoulder, finding a wide-eyed and pale Silver.
“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“Not gonna leave you, I just have to clear—”
“Don’t leave me, Weston, please.”
Those five words hit Weston’s soul like an atomic bomb and stopped him dead. Sheer panic and desperation shone in her eyes and she was looking at him like he was the only thing standing in between her and her worst fear.
Damn, why did that feel so fucking good?
“Okay, sweetheart, stay right behind me.”
It was not the best plan, having her following him, but neither was leaving her unprotected. Clearing the rooms went a lot slower than Weston would’ve liked, but fortunately, there was no one in the apartment. Unfortunately, the bedroom, bathroom, and office were worse than the living room.
Total loss. Silver’s home was destroyed.
After Weston had closed and dead-bolted the door, Silver finally moved from his side and walked to what was left of her kitchen.
Dishes, pots and pans, countertop appliances were all on the tiled floor shattered to pieces.
“There’s nothing left,” she whispered with tears brimming in her eyes. “Everything’s gone.”
The first tear broke free and rolled down her cheek and that was all it took for Weston to pull her into his arms and hug her close. Something he shouldn’t have done but only realized his mistake when her face hit his chest, the top of her head coming just below his chin—she was a perfect fit. And when the side of her cheek nuzzled, sending waves of rightness over Weston’s body, he knew he was in trouble.
They stood in silence, Weston at a loss for words and Silver trying to process her home being decimated.
He didn’t want to rush her but they couldn’t stay there, so he gently brushed her hair away from her face, another mistake—a huge one. He’d liked the feel of her pressed close but liked the way her soft strands glided through his fingers just as much.
“Silver, sweetheart, we have to go.”
She nodded her head and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and Weston wanted to beat the people responsible bloody.
“I still need to get some—”
“No, honey, leave it. We’ll stop at the store and pick up what you need.”
He knew he needed to stop with the silly pet names, but each time one slipped past his lips it felt right. Which was a shocking revelation considering he’d always hated endearments of the sort in the past and had never used them with any other woman before. He also found he hadn’t hated when Silver had called him ‘sweetheart’, even if she’d meant to be sarcastic and snarky.
Wasn’t that some crazy shit?
“Okay,” she readily agreed and for once he didn’t like her easy acceptance.
Especially knowing it was because she was traumatized. He hadn’t thought it possible but he actually missed her stubborn, know-it-all attitude. He would take her sass any day of the week and twice on Sunday over the wobble in her voice.
Weston started to move away but stopped when Silver whispered, “I’m scared.”
And it was then in that moment, with Silver pinning him in place—all pretense gone, all the walls down—he knew he would meet death before she met harm.
“I promise you, Silver, swear it, I’ll keep you safe.”
6
I’d known pain, the emotional kind that eats at you from the inside. The kind that nags and belittles you until you believed the lies others told you, the untruths your mind replayed. I knew what that felt like, I’d lived it, was still living it.
But this was worse than that kind of pain. The truth had smacked into me with a force I couldn’t deny.
I was in danger.
More danger than I’d thought I was already in.
I couldn’t pretend my way out of it. I couldn’t lie to everyone around me and front like I was someone who was invincible.
So while I’d known pain I’d never known this kind of fear and it scared the hell out of me. It terrified me even more to admit it. But standing in my apartment with everything I owned in shambles, with nothing left, I no longer had the luxury of hiding.
I needed help. I needed someone to protect me. Two things I didn’t want to need but did all the same.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Weston mumbled. But before he pulled away he bent forward and kissed my forehead.
I knew he did it to be nice—the peck was meant to be reassuring and comforting but it wasn’t. It sent my heart rate skyrocketing and reminded me of things I’d never have. Sure, Weston was being nice to me now, it seemed like deep-down he was a good person, being that he’d offered me gentleness after everything I’d lost. But I knew it wasn’t real, not like a man would brush his lips against the forehead of woman he cared for.
I wasn’t that to him and never would be. So his kiss was torture.
Weston led me out of my apartment, even unnecessarily locked the deadbolt after us and continued down to his Jeep. He didn’t let go of my hand until he asked me for his keys, and it was only then because I needed my hand to reach into my pocket. After that, he helped me in, buckled the seat belt for me, and jogged around the front and climbed in.
It wasn’t until we were well over the Chesapeake City Bridge and I noticed he was going the wrong way did I finally speak.
“Where are you going?”
“Middletown.”
“Delaware?”
“Unless you know another Middletown, then yes.”
He was being a smartass and I wasn’t sure how I felt about him being friendly. Actually, that was a lie, I did know—it freaked me out.
“Why are we going there?”
“You need clothes and there’s nowhere to shop in Kent County and I’m starved. As much as I love pizza and Procolino’s has the best I’ve ever had, I can’t eat another slice. So we’ll find a place to eat, too.”
I didn’t live in Kent County and even I knew, no one turned down Proc’s, which meant he had to be over pizza, as in over it, if he was swearing off the eatery.
I didn’t know what to say to him about his thoughtfulness so I went back to silence. The problem with that was, silence meant there was nothing else to do but think. And thinking was not what I neede
d to be doing right then. It had been a long time since I’d needed my dad, but right then, all I wanted was my dad to wrap me up in one of his bear hugs and tell me everything was going to be all right. That I’d get through this. That I could rebuild my life. That all the shit in my house that had been broken could be replaced.
“What are you thinking about?”
“That I miss my dad.”
Weston nodded like he understood and said, “You know all of that can be replaced. The important thing’s that you’re safe. I know it sucks, the prospect of starting over, but shit is just that, Silver—shit.”
Okay, so, I may’ve been gaping at him. It was like he’d read my mind and then somehow channeled my dad and told me exactly what he’d say.
“When I was about eleven, the boat we lived on caught on fire. My dad grabbed me, two life preservers, and jumped overboard. When we were floating in the water waiting I asked him why he didn’t try to put out the fire. He told me that a boat can be replaced, but he could never replace me. He said, shit is shit and that’s what insurance is for. I didn’t get it then, I was kinda upset that everything we had was on fire and I was floatin’ in the water in the middle of the night. But he was right. So, I know you’re right, too. But I feel like I’m back in the cold water floating all alone with nothing again.”
Weston took his hand off the gear shift and reached over and laced our fingers together.
“You’re not alone.”
Shit. Shit. Damn.
Why on earth was he being so nice? This side of Weston was more than I could bear. I should’ve pulled my hand away and told him not to touch me, but I didn’t. I should’ve told him he didn’t need to be nice to me, I may’ve had a moment of weakness but I wasn’t going to break.
Yet I did neither of those things. Instead, I sat in Weston’s Jeep as he kindly drove us to buy me clothes, wearing his sweatshirt—that indecently smelled divine, and I did it all holding his hand.
“I like your Jeep,” I blurted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s cool driving around with no top or doors. It feels like you’re free.”
I was sure my hair was already a rat’s nest from the first leg of our trip and it would look even worse when we stopped in Middletown, but I didn’t care. I lifted my chin, closed my eyes, and let the fresh air whip through my hair.
“It does. But if you really wanna feel free I’ll take you for a ride on my bike.”
“You have a motorcycle?” My eyes popped open and I looked over at Weston.
“Yep. You ever been on one?” he asked and glanced over at me.
Our eyes locked. It was quick—just for a second—before he had to look back at the road, but I could swear something passed between us.
“No.”
“You’ll love it.”
I was sure I would, though I didn’t think it would be a good idea. I’d learned a few things over the course of the day. When Weston wasn’t being a jerk, he was irresistible. I’d also come to the conclusion my girly parts really liked when I was close to him. Riding on the back of his motorcycle would mean my crotch would be pressed against his ass—and just to note it was a spectacular sight. I wasn’t sure what exercise he did to make it as tight and firm as he did, but whatever he was doing, he shouldn’t stop.
“Here,” Weston said, and reached behind him. His hand came back with a baseball cap.
“That bad, huh?” I laughed.
“No, you look great. But your hair is whipping you in the face. I should’ve offered it earlier.”
“It’s like you can read my mind,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” He leaned closer.
“I said you can read my mind. I was just thinking about how messy my hair was gonna be.”
Weston pulled to a stop at a red light and looked over at me.
“It’s a little knotted. But it’s….” He shook his head and didn’t continue.
“It’s what?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.” Weston shifted in his seat, then leaned back and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me. “My texts are blowing up, can you check them for me?”
“Your texts?”
“Yeah. Can’t while I’m driving.”
I looked at his phone then back to him. “But what if they’re private? Like from your girlfriend or something.”
Okay, so I was fishing and it wasn’t my finest moment, and my question wasn’t as smooth as I thought it sounded in my head. But now that I’d asked, the inquiry hung between us.
“Babe.” He laughed but said no more.
Sweetheart, honey, babe. I wasn’t sure which one I liked more. What I did know was I shouldn’t like any of them.
“Is that your answer?”
When the light turned green, Weston shifted into first, then into second, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand on the gear shift. Actually, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the muscles in his forearms. Who knew watching a man drive was so sexy? My gaze moved to his thick thighs, before they went to his stomach—which I knew was rock-hard since my arms had been wrapped around him twice—then up to his chest, which was just as solid, and I knew that, too, because my face had rested against it—then to his throat.
Since I was staring so intently I not only heard but saw as he cleared his throat, pulling my attention to his face. Gone were all traces of annoyance that were normally present when he looked at me. His features weren’t set in stone, but they were intense, and he was also looking right at me.
“Two things,” he started and I lost his eyes as they went back to the road. “I’m a grown man, I don’t do girlfriends. And second, if I had a woman, my lips would never have gotten anywhere near you.”
I shivered at his response and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I was more than comfortable with his hoodie on and he had the heat blasting at my feet. No, it was the steel in his voice. The vehemence in his tone. Weston was making it clear, he wasn’t the kind of man who would kiss another woman—even a friendly kiss—if he was already involved with someone.
Why does that make me so happy?
“Silver? The texts,” he prompted.
“Right.” I went back to the phone and pressed the home button. “It’s locked.”
Weston rattled off his security code and my mouth fell open. “You just gave me your code.”
“And?”
“And…I don’t know. You don’t know me. Your phone’s private, now I know your code.”
“You gonna jack my phone from my room and send out spam emails to all my contacts?”
“No. That’s crazy. But I could take it and nose through all your pictures.”
“Knock yourself out, honey, but I think you’ll be disappointed.”
“Not a picture-taking type of guy, huh?” I laughed.
“No, there are thousands of pictures on there, but nothing exciting.”
I was teasing Weston, but now I wanted to look to see what pictures he had and what he considered not exciting. Who was the real Weston Beil and what did he think was photograph-worthy?
I unlocked his phone and found he had four text messages. I tapped the icon and pulled up his text strings.
“You have three from Nixon and one from McKenna.”
Seeing a woman’s name made my stomach bottom out. Just because he didn’t have a girlfriend—or a woman as he called it—who he was serious about didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing one. And a man as good-looking as Weston could be seeing a lot of women, there was no doubt his options would be varied and his field wide.
Damn.
I couldn’t compete with the type of women who would flock to Weston.
Wait. Full stop. Back up. I didn’t even want to compete for Weston’s attention.
“Start with Nix.”
I clicked on the string and backed up three messages and read them out loud.
“Chasin is driving up now to go over to the apartment. Holden is going by her work to pick up her stu
ff.” I reread the text to myself then asked, “What are they doing?”
“Chasin will go to your apartment and check it out, see if he can figure out who broke in and why. Holden’s going to the yard and he’ll pick up your stuff. While he’s there he can get a read on Matt and Rodger.”
“Get a read?”
“Yeah. Right now, everyone you work with is potentially the one that sold you out. Holden wants a face-to-face with everyone. Your stuff still being at work gives him the perfect excuse.”
“But Matt and Rodger won’t give it to him.”
“They will, he can be convincing. What’s the next message say?”
I looked back down and read the next three.
“Alec reported in, 1.5 mil in coke. He’s not happy there are three dead men, but happy with the bust.” Three dead men. Holy shit. Then the next. “McKenna is working on pulling traffic cams and any private CCV in the area.” McKenna? And the last. “I’m headed back to my place. McKenna put fresh sheets on your bed for Silver. Check in later. Meeting at the office 8 AM.”
So maybe McKenna wasn’t his woman—either that or she was crazy and didn’t care another woman was going to sleep in her man’s bed even if he wouldn’t be in it with me. I still didn’t know a woman alive who would be okay with that.
“What’d Micky say?” he asked.
“Who’s Micky?”
“McKenna.”
Gah. He even had a cool nickname for her. My belly swooshed and I was reminded again what an idiot I was. Weston was off-limits and I had to remember that. No matter how hot, how sweet he could be, how badly I wanted to ride on the back of his bike, how insanely good it felt to be in his arms, how desperately I wanted to know what his skin felt like under my palms.
I couldn’t ever do any of that.
7
Silver had gone quiet after she’d read the message and Weston knew it was a lot to process so he didn’t rush her. A man she barely knew was going to enter her home, albeit it was trashed, and among the rubble would be personal items. A second man she didn’t know was going to invade her space even more and go to her place of work and get her overnight bag and purse—if it was still intact.
Weston's Treasure Page 4