by Cate Beauman
They’d run into each other several times while he’d been in and out of the barn with his tools, bending over in his snug jeans, repairing loose boards for his mother. “Pretty well.” She pulled out the plate of leftover chicken and bowl of salad.
“Uncle Jimmy says you’re turning into a real pro with the milking.”
She plucked up a decent-sized helping of Mary’s fresh-from-the-greenhouse greens, plopping them into a bowl, and pulled a knife from the drawer for the chicken. “Your family’s taught me well.”
“Who knew there was a farm girl beneath those designer clothes?” He smiled.
“Pretty crazy.” She grabbed the cutting board and sliced a breast in half, waiting for him to be on his way. She’d tried to avoid alone time with Jerrod since the Shelby incident on Saturday. They needed some space until she could figure out how she was supposed to look at him and not want him despite what he thought of her.
“Abigail.” He slid closer to her side. “When are you going to talk to me?”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“Only because you’re too polite not to.”
“I’m trying to work everything out.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, sliding the blade along her skin instead of the chicken. “Ow!” She dropped the knife with a clatter as blood oozed down the pad of her index finger.
Jerrod moved in, twisting on the sink, grabbing her wrist, shoving her hand under the cold stream.
She sucked in a sharp breath as water hit her throbbing wound. She tried to jerk away and rammed into his chest. “I’m okay.”
He held her hand firm, stepping closer, pinning her between the counter and his solid, muscled body. “Rinse it out some.”
She breathed in his soap as he bent closer, examining the gash, his breath heating the top of her ear as he turned her hand from side to side. She closed her eyes as sparks tingled along her skin, remembering the way his lips had trailed hot kisses along her neck, the way his hungry mouth had demanded she keep up with his frenzied pace.
“Looks like you got yourself pretty good.” He twisted off the faucet and grabbed a paper towel, gripping her finger between the ripped paper, holding it above her heart. “Firm pressure.”
“I was careless.” She turned, desperate for space, and managed to wedge them face-to-face and chest-to-chest. “I’ll be fine.”
His gaze darted to her lips then held hers. “You need a bandage.”
“I’ll get one,” she said breathily. Even after the whole Shelby thing, even after the way he’d made her doubt herself, she still wanted to yank that mouth of his to hers. What was wrong with her? “Excuse me.”
“Abby.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Can we clear the air?”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to talk to me.” He moved his palms down her arms and back up. “I want us to be the way we were in LA—when we used to have fun together.”
His casual touch was pleasure and pain. “Nothing’s the same. Ever since the photo shoot…” she hesitated. Screw it. She was sick of dancing around the truth. “My feelings for you aren’t simple, Jerrod. I didn’t realize things had changed until the photo shoot. I understand that only makes this more awkward…”
His eyes filled with regret as he gripped her arms tighter. “My job—I can’t offer you more, Abigail.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Your safety comes first.”
She sighed, tired of his lame justifications. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Use your job as an excuse. You’re not interested. I understand ‘no thank you’ just fine.”
“It’s not an excuse, Abigail. It’s the truth.”
She tilted her head, her brows raised. “I’m perfectly safe here.”
“For the most part you’re right, but what about when we leave in a couple weeks? We’ll be stepping right back into the line of fire. They want you dead, Abigail, and I won’t let that happen. If keeping my distance now means you’re alive in six weeks because my focus is where it needs to be, I’m willing to make a few sacrifices.”
When he said it like that he made sense, but what about the rest? What about the way he’d kissed her? She almost asked, but couldn’t bear to hear the real answer as to why he’d stopped. “What if you weren’t my bodyguard?”
He slid his finger down a lock of her hair, skimming her cheek along the way. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
What kind of answer was that? “This is messed up—all of it.” She pulled his hands away. “I don’t want us to be like this, Jerrod. I don’t.”
He rested his hands on the lip of the counter, not budging an inch for her to move by. “I don’t either. I miss you. I miss the fun we used to have when it was just the two of us.”
“So do I,” she admitted. But what now?
“Okay. Good. Let’s make this easy. Do you want to catch a movie with me tonight? Lady’s choice, of course.”
She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked in his eyes, more confused than ever. How was anything about this entire situation easy? “Jerrod—”
“We could have dinner first.”
She shook her head. They’d done the whole dinner and movie thing numerous times before, but a once simple evening out now felt too much like a date—a date he didn’t want…or did he? She would compromise. “How about we rent something and watch a movie here?”
He shrugged. “Your call.”
Supposedly it was her call, but she felt like she was along for the ride—wherever Jerrod chose to steer them. “I need to get a band aid.” She pushed against him, assuming he would move, but he held his ground.
“Hold on.”
She huffed out a breath. “What?”
“Friends.” He held out his hand.
She hesitated, then took his, shaking it. “Friends.” Even if that wasn’t what she wanted. “I’m going to get that band aid.” She moved around him, starting toward the stairs.
“Can I fix you a sandwich or finish making your salad? We can have lunch together.”
The air was clearer, kind of, but she wasn’t ready to dive into the way things used to be, if that was even possible. She stared into his steady blue eyes, realizing her world had officially turned upside down—again. A situation she once had some semblance of control over was now out of her hands. Jerrod had been the man she’d relied on for the last six months of her life. He’d soothed her during some of her worst moments and kept her safe. Now he left her unsettled as she struggled to figure out how to navigate their strange new “friendship.”
“Uh, I’ll get something after I clean up,” she said. She took the stairs to the bathroom and grabbed a Band-Aid, covering her wound, then went to her room, pulling boot-cut jeans and a snug spaghetti strap black top from her drawer. Turning, she stopped, facing the window, staring out at the endless snowy fields and highway far in the distance as she took off her work clothes and put on her pants and top. Freedom. She dismissed the sudden yearning to be away from the house and Jerrod as she walked to the closet for her black button-down sweater and boots.
She slid soft cashmere up her arms and plunked her feet in buttery leather, glancing outside once again, looking to the horizon as her heart rate quickened and the stirrings of unease skittered along her spine. “No. No.” She breathed in and out, clutching the edge of the bed as the familiar grips of panic came back to haunt her. “You’re fine. You’re fine,” she assured herself as sweat popped along her forehead, and Jerrod’s footsteps on the hard wood floors downstairs echoed like gunshots in her head.
Standing up straight, she grabbed her purse with a trembling hand. She had to go. She had to get out of here now—away from the farm, but more, away from Jerrod and all the confusion. She glanced down at her wrist and the watch she put on every morning before she started her day and unclasped it, leaving it on the side table. I can find you anywhere with this. The thought was typically a
comfort, but today she didn’t want to be found, not by Dimitri or Victor, not by Jerrod either. She looked back at the pretty twists of silver and gold and left the jewelry behind, pausing in the hallway, glancing to the stairwell to her right, leading to the kitchen and Jerrod, then the stairs to the left, and turned, walking quietly down the steps, desperately trying to avoid any squeaks that would give her away.
She inched her way forward, careful to keep her heels from connecting with the floor as she moved closer to the front door, snagging the keys to Mary’s pickup when she made it. Closing her eyes tight, she twisted the doorknob slowly and stepped outside, breathing in the blessedly frigid air as she continued to sweat.
Mary came around the corner, and Abby jumped, pressing her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, honey.”
“I’m ready,” she schooled her voice and breathing. “I grabbed the keys unless you need to go inside.” She prayed Mary didn’t need to go in.
“No. No. I’m all set.”
“Great,” she said with a punch of desperation, glancing over her shoulder, full-well understanding she was breaking the rules, but for once she didn’t care. She needed this break from Jerrod and the mess between them—from her life. She desperately wanted to be a normal woman for one afternoon.
They walked to the truck as Abby looked behind her once more and opened her door, hopping into the cab.
Mary buckled in and turned over the ignition. “I guess we should get this show on the road.”
“I guess so.” Abby wiggled her foot up and down, willing Mary to hurry before Jerrod figured out she was gone. He was going to be mad, but they were only going to the thrift store. He’d said himself she was safe here, and she planned to be careful.
Mary put the truck in drive, pressed on the gas, and they bumped down the long lane.
Abby sat back, sighing her relief, relaxing her shoulders, releasing her death grip on her purse when they reached the highway. If she was going to be free for a few hours, she was going to enjoy herself. “So, what do you think you’d like to wear to the dance?”
“Honey, I have no clue.”
“Well, I can help you with that.” She smiled, a genuine smile as Mary accelerated and they headed toward town.
~~~~
Jerrod climbed the stairs with the veggie sandwich he made Abby, trying to figure out what he should say when he handed over this latest peace offering. She said she would eat later, but ‘later’ had been over an hour ago. He’d waited a good thirty minutes, dawdling over his plate of last night’s baked chicken and creamy mashed potatoes, hoping she would come down so they could talk away any remaining awkwardness and move on, but as he took his last bite, he realized she was still avoiding him despite their handshake and plans for an evening movie.
He didn’t know how to make their situation better. Everything was so damn messy. Biding his time and giving her space didn’t work. Cornering her in the kitchen and forcing her into strained conversation hadn’t gotten him anywhere either. Their situation had only grown more complicated when Abby confessed to not-so-simple feelings, and he’d kept his mouth shut, giving her the impression he didn’t have any of his own. What else was he supposed to do?
His explanations had been the absolute truth. They would head to trial in less than three weeks. The relative safety and relaxed precautions they were enjoying here in Parker would be a thing of the past. Her security would heighten; safeguards would increase. It was more vital than ever to concentrate on procedures and protocols and forget the rest. Mixed up emotions and this new discord in an otherwise smooth relationship were liabilities neither of them could afford. Close protection worked best when agent and principal were on the same page. That’s why he never got involved with his clients—and had never been tempted to until Abby.
He reached the top step and walked to her room, slowing when he didn’t hear the radio, frowning at her open door. Abby always shut herself in as far as she dared. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t heard a sound from upstairs since she went to get her Band-Aid. His concern vanished into a smile, and he relaxed, shaking his head. Maybe things were okay between them. She must’ve fallen asleep. Getting up at three-thirty every morning was finally getting to her. He proceeded forward, knocking on the doorframe and peeked in. “Abby?”
His brows furrowed for the second time as he glanced at the empty, undisturbed bed and her work clothes tossed over the armchair. Her dresser drawers were slightly ajar, and her watch lay on the side table. He stared at the pretty timepiece she always wore as the cloak of unease settled on his shoulders. “Abby,” he called louder, heading toward the bathroom, but the door was open and the light off. He took the stairs in twos to the living room, glancing at the vacant couch and loveseat. Where the hell was she? “Abigail?”
Picking up his pace, he popped his head in each room, calling for her as he wandered through the house, stopping as he passed a window, realizing the pickup was gone. She didn’t. She couldn’t have. But the lead ball in his gut warned him she did. “Shit.”
He dropped the plate, rushing out the door, running around the side of the house to the barn. She was in the barn. She had to be. Mom must have run errands, but Abby was still here. He yanked the door open. “Abigail,” he shouted.
No one answered.
“Fuck. Fuck!” Dread turned into outright fear as he sprinted back to the house and into the kitchen, picking up the landline, dialing Mom’s cell. Within seconds he could hear her ringtone echoing from her downstairs bedroom. “I can’t believe this.” He slammed down the phone, running trembling fingers through his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
He picked up the cordless again and dialed Timmy’s cell, barely able to hear the ringing over his pounding heart.
“Hello?”
“Have you talked to Abby?”
“Not recently. I’m having lunch with Shelby—monthly police log bullshit. We just sat down a couple minutes ago.”
“She’s gone.”
“Who?”
“Abby, damn it,” he snapped, gripping the corner of the wall, trying to keep his cool as fear consumed him. How long had she been gone? Where the hell did she go? “Mom and the pickup are missing too. I tried Mom’s cell; it’s in her room.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine. They probably went to the market.”
“She knows not to go anywhere without me.” He slammed the side of his fist on the granite countertop, making the cookie jar rattle. “She knows that, Tim. And she’s not wearing her watch. She could be anywhere. They could have her.” He scrubbed at his jaw, trying to quell his helpless anger.
“All right. I’ll go check out some of mom’s typical spots and see if I spot the truck, then I’ll head out. If she doesn’t show up in the next hour we’ll call out a BOLO.”
He wanted to demand the BOLO now, but Tim was right. Abby was probably fine. Calling unwanted attention, putting her name and description out over the radio was more detrimental than waiting the hour, if Timmy didn’t find them first. “I’ll stay here in case they come back.” And make himself crazy. “Call me if anything turns up.”
“You know I will.”
Jerrod hung up, carefully, slowly, returning the phone to its base, certain he might crack the plastic into several pieces. How could she do this? Abby had known from the very beginning that she was never, ever to leave without him. Parker was probably safe, but her seekers could be anywhere.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby drove up the lane, avoiding the worst of the juts marring the dirt road as she sang along with Lady Antebellum, belting out We Own The Night with plenty of gusto. She grinned, thrilled when Mary joined in and eased off the gas as the house came into view, not wanting the afternoon to end. The last two hours had been perfect—shopping, laughing, lunch out. Girl time!
She slapped her hand against the steering wheel in time with the beat, high on sheer happiness. It had been months since she’d wandered throu
gh stores without a babysitter by her side or enjoyed a late-afternoon meal in public without watching her bodyguard watch everyone else around them. For the first time since her kidnapping she drove instead of taking the passenger’s seat—just in case there was a tail and need for a quick getaway. She’d had her ‘normal’ and wanted plenty more. Just a few more weeks and she would have her life back.
She pulled up to the spot where Mary typically parked, threw the transmission into park, and twisted up the volume, jumping out of the cab. She hurried around to Mary’s side, pulling Mary out of her seat.
“Abby, honey, what are you doing?”
She moved to the music, in full groove-mode, laughing. “Dancing. Dance with me, Mary.” She shook her hips, tossing her hands over her head, laughing harder when Mary actually wiggled about. She wanted to bottle up this snapshot of pure joy for the next time she was stuck in some dark place, dealing with the consequences of a situation she’d never asked for.
“So you really think you’ll be able to make me something with the pile of clothes we bought?” She took Abby’s hand and turned in a stiff circle.
Abby grinned. “Absolutely. I already know what I’m going to—”
“Where the hell have you been?” Jerrod shouted, booking it around the corner of the house, his eyes smoldering as they met hers.
She froze, her shoulders automatically tensing as she braced against Jerrod’s angry tone. She’d expected him to be upset, but this was several stratospheres into furious.
“You mind your tone, son.” Mary stepped closer to Jerrod. “Abby helped me with some shopping for the barn dance.”
Abby glanced at Tim and Shelby as they walked around the house. Tim reached in and turned off the truck.
Jerrod’s ragged breathing filled the air as he seared her with another look. “What were you thinking?” He kicked a rock, sending it careening across frozen dirt. “What the hell were you thinking, Abigail?”
She would not apologize for taking what she needed. “That I’m suffocating.”