by Addison Fox
Now that she’d given her agreement to leave, there was little keeping her and Donovan on the property. In a matter of moments, he had her in his SUV and was driving them toward the exit on the back side of the property, in the opposite direction from the press. She wasn’t sure if the strategy would work, but refused to turn around to find out.
“I’m sorry for the dog hair. Alex usually sits on the front seat.”
A strained giggle crawled up her throat, at odds with the exhaustion that racked her shoulders the moment she sat down. “I think a few stray dog hairs are the least of my worries right now. And since I don’t mind them on a good day, it’s no bother.”
“Are you warm enough?” The heater was on full blast, rapidly warming the car as they drove toward the center of town.
“I’m getting there.” As days went, December in central Texas was often mild bordering on warm. She was rarely cold, but since being tossed from the car she’d had a weird, aching numbness that had settled in her bones and refused to let go.
“You’re probably dealing with the lingering effects of shock. I should have thought of this sooner. Here.” He pulled to the side of the road and shrugged out of his coat, handing it over. “Put this on.”
The jacket enveloped her, a mix of body heat and a scent that was distinctly male. She could still smell the cold air that had wrapped around them in the parking lot, only instead of being tinged with the lingering, acrid taste of smoke and burned-out car, in its place was a musky, pleasing warmth. She also caught the faintest whisper of dog and smiled to herself.
Clearly Alex wasn’t at a loss for hugs and affection.
That thought warmed her beyond the car or the coat, filling her with that years-old memory of a large man cradling a sick puppy in his arms. Her father had always told her you could tell a man’s character by the way he treated animals and in the case of Donovan Colton, she had to admit the expression was spot on the mark.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Warmer.” She took in his profile, not wanting to stare but unable to fully look away.
Goodness, was he handsome. She’d thought so that night in her parents’ store and saw it even more now. The firm jawline. The close-cropped dark hair. And the thick, corded forearm muscles now visible where he gripped the steering wheel.
“Make a right when you get to the stop sign at the end of this road.”
“That’s not the way to the diner.”
“You don’t need to take me to dinner. Home’s fine.”
“I promised you a meal and I aim to deliver. In fact—” his gaze flashed toward hers before he resumed his focus on the road “—I believe I promised you dinner some time ago.”
“That’s not... I mean—” She broke off, feeling silly. “I’m covered in parking lot dirt and smell like the undercarriage of a car. Home’s fine.”
“I’ll take you home but I’m not going to leave you right now. You’ve had an ordeal and I’d like to stick around for a bit.”
“I know you have to question me. Can we just do it at my house?”
He frowned before reaching out a hand to lay over hers. “This isn’t about questioning you. You’re not a criminal, Bellamy. But I will respect your wishes and take you home on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me order a pizza from Chuck’s.”
* * *
“HOW DID A scrappy little guy from Brooklyn end up in Whisperwood, Texas?” Donovan peeked inside the oversize cardboard box of pizza before dropping the lid into place. He’d called in the order as they drove, hoping to minimize their time in town. In retrospect, the decision was a good one when he’d seen a local TV news truck wending its way down Main Street as he pulled away from Chuck’s parking lot.
It was too much to hope she wouldn’t be found by the press—or worse, whomever had put the bomb in her car—but if he could give her even an evening’s peace, then he wanted to do it.
What he hadn’t fully reconciled was how much he was looking forward to having dinner with her.
His offered dinner invitation had gone unfulfilled for so many years, it was humbling to realize how anxious he was to see it through. Which was ridiculous because she was now on his caseload and dealing with a horrific trauma.
Bellamy glanced over her shoulder as she grabbed sodas from the fridge before hip bumping the door closed. “Thank Cupid. Chuck met his wife, Maria, on a cruise and decided he couldn’t live without her. New York’s loss is Whisperwood’s gain.”
“And Maria’s, obviously,” Donovan added.
“You seem familiar with the pizza?”
“I’m from here originally. And you don’t have to spend much time in Whisperwood before someone makes sure you have a pizza from Chuck’s.”
While technically true, his mother preferred food cooked in the Colton kitchens by her extensive staff instead of ordering in. Chuck’s pizza had been a fortuitous accident one early evening after he’d ducked out of his parents’ house and headed home to Austin. Since then, even though he avoided spending a lot of time in Whisperwood, he’d stop off at the small pizzeria after his sporadic visits to his parents’ house. He could always make room for a fresh slice and the pizza was almost better the next day, cold, when it came straight out of the fridge.
A small, amused smile tilted Bellamy’s lips. “Plates are in the cabinet above the sink.”
She stood by her small kitchen table, her dark hair damp from the quick shower he’d encouraged her to take. She was fully dressed, an oversize long-sleeved T-shirt falling over jeans, but something about the look had him doing a double take. There was something fresh about her.
He’d noticed it five years before and was struck anew by that same fact. Even with the horrible events she’d experienced that day, there was a light in her. It had been dampened since their first meeting, but it was still there. Hovering.
Hoping.
Which made the situation she found herself in that much worse. Although he and Alex would go back tomorrow and do a more thorough search of her car, his initial take was that, while deliberate, the bomb had been planted with a degree of amateur crudeness. Crude or not, the work had been effective, the one who planted it only miscalculating the timing device.
And Bellamy’s extraordinarily lucky miss by not closing the trunk.
He buried the thought that she was only standing there by the grace of an accident and finished his quick perusal of her, head to toe. It was a skill he’d honed on the job and he used it to his advantage before his gaze alighted on her bare feet. Where he’d have expected her socks to be a soft pink or maybe even a fun red, the distinct shade of burnt orange that covered her toes had him smiling.
“What’s that look for?”
He let his gaze linger one more moment on her toes before meeting her eyes. He owed it to her to apprise her of his thoughts on what she was really dealing with, but he wanted time.
Just a bit of time with her.
“It looks like someone’s a Longhorn fan.”
“As every good graduate of the University of Texas should be.” She wiggled the toes on one foot, followed by the other. “I bleed orange, if you must know.”
“A pastime around here.”
“Pretty much.” The mention of her alma mater had her standing a bit straighter and he was pleased to see a smile persisting on her lips as she crossed the small expanse to the stove. She lifted the lid on the pizza and bent closer to inhale the scent before nodding her head. “Oh yeah. Brooklyn’s loss is definitely our gain.”
They fixed plates and Bellamy grabbed the two sodas from the counter on their way to a dining alcove just outside the kitchen. The house was modest in size, but cozy, and it was easy to see that she’d made a life for herself here. Her taste wasn’t flashy, but he caught sub
tle hints of whimsy in her home. A superhero cookie jar on the kitchen counter added to the decor and her dining room tablecloth had penguins around the rim.
Alex had laid guard outside the kitchen while they fixed their plates and then repositioned himself after they settled at the table.
“He’s so good around food.”
“Part of his job.”
“It’s amazing, though.” She shook her head. “I had a dog growing up that made it his business to eat anything he could find, scrounge or flat out steal.”
“I had a similar conversation with my mother earlier. I grew up with one of those, too. Alex is special, though. He knows his job and with it, his place.”
The flow of casual conversation seemed to do its job. Their easy tumble from topic to topic, from Chuck’s love life to the discussion of the Longhorns to ravenous dogs, had left that small, persistent smile on her face.
“Will he eat tonight?”
“I’ll feed him when we’re done. I keep food in the car because I never know if we’ll be out late. He’s working now so he can eat once I’m done.”
“Working?”
“Absolutely. You’re in his care now. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.”
She laid down her pizza and turned her full attention toward the dog. Although Alex never moved, the tip of his tail started to thump against the floor. “He’s watching over me?”
“Yes. Has been ever since we walked over to you in the LSP parking lot. He’s going to protect you.” And so am I.
The thought rang so clearly in his mind he nearly dropped his pizza. Of course it was his job, and by taking the call Bellamy Reeves had absolutely become his responsibility.
But something else called to him.
He had thought about her through the years. The easy moments they’d shared in her parents’ store that lone December evening. The sweet way she had with Alex and the quick way she’d leaped to help them.
He’d remembered.
And he’d thought of her every time he’d passed the corner store on his way out of town.
The store had changed hands since then. He was curious about it and was about to ask when she interjected a fresh thought into the conversation.
“I think we get the better end of the deal.”
“Of what deal?”
“The human and pet deal. They give us so much and we just sort of take it.” As soon as the words were out, she seemed to catch herself. “Not that you treat him poorly—that’s not what I meant. But they give from a special place. It’s one I don’t know humans have.”
“I know what you mean. We think we’re superior but there’s an awful lot we can learn from animals. They live in the moment. They’re loyal. And there’s an honesty to them that we can’t ever hope to aspire to.”
“You’re smitten.”
“With Alex? Definitely.”
“He was such a cute puppy and he’s grown into such a handsome dog. Is he good at his job?”
“The best.”
“Let me amend my earlier comment. You’re smitten and biased.”
The lightest whisper of heat crawled up his neck. “I suppose I am. He really is good, though. He consistently wins the drills we run across the K-9 teams. And he’s got a special sort of alertness. Like now. He looks like he’s casually sitting there but he’s totally focused on the two of us and on his surroundings.”
“What was your takeaway of today?”
The shift in question caught him off guard and Donovan couldn’t help thinking that Bellamy Reeves was totally aware of her surroundings, too.
And the danger that threatened her in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine.
* * *
BELLAMY WANTED TO hover in the warm cocoon of her house and her most comfy clothes and the incredibly able strength of Officer Donovan Colton and his sidekick, Alex. More, she wanted to lose herself in all of it and shut out whatever lurked outside her door.
Which was the very reason she had to ask the question.
And accept that the darkness that came into Donovan’s already dark brown gaze had nothing to do with her question and everything to do with the answer.
Something terrible had happened today and pretending it hadn’t wasn’t going to set her up very well.
Just like her parents.
Where her sister had been insistent in believing things weren’t “that bad” after the accident, Bellamy had pressed on, well aware of what difficult times faced them. Her father’s resulting paralysis—and the difficulty of trying to have a seventy-five-year-old body bounce back against that sort of crushing destruction—was nearly impossible.
And she’d met it head-on.
She hadn’t hid, nor had she run.
Then why was the urge to do so now so overwhelming and urgent?
And what was she going to do about what she’d found?
“My takeaway?”
She nodded. “I know you haven’t written a formal report, but you’ve obviously done this for some time. What was your initial impression?”
“I still need to question you. I also need to share my thoughts with my commanding officer.”
“I see.”
And just like that, he went into cop mode, shutting her out of what was clearly her own problem to deal with. Just like the doctors. Just like her sister. Hell, even just like her mother.
Life had careened out of control once again and the only person left to manage it was her.
Standing, she took her empty plate into the kitchen and placed everything in the sink. The rich scents of tomato sauce and cheese still wafted from the closed cardboard but she’d suddenly lost her appetite.
It was unfair to paint Donovan with the same brush as others in her life—she hadn’t even told him of the email yet or the events of the day—but his reticence to share with her still stung.
“Bellamy, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t surprised he’d followed her, but she was stunned to feel the wall of heat that emanated against her back. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark.”
“Spare me.”
“It’s my job and I need to report my thoughts to my boss. I owe it to him. But that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you what I know. Nor does it mean I’m going to keep you in the dark. But I need to follow the correct chain of command and management of evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“Your car is evidence. That’s what I asked the chief to move into police custody. Alex and I will look at it tomorrow and we’ll have a better sense of what we’re dealing with.”
That wall of heat seemed to grow warmer, if possible, even though he didn’t touch her. Despite the lack of contact, she could feel him. Could practically sense the beat of his heart.
And even as she hated being kept in the dark, she couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him stand there. To have him in her home, filling up the space.
To have someone nearby.
“I won’t keep you in the dark. But please let me do my job.”
“I got fired today.” The words slipped out, as embarrassing to say them out loud as they’d been to digest in Sally Borne’s office.
“What for?”
“Reporting an email I wasn’t supposed to have received in the first place.” She reached for a nearby dish towel, twisting the material beneath her fingers. “Or maybe I was. Who knows?”
Large hands settled on her shoulders, lingering there briefly before turning her around. “What’s this about? I need you to tell me. Tell me all of it.”
She knew this moment was inevitable. Had even expected it as she’d worked to process all that had happened since opening that stupid email earlier.
What she hadn’t expected were the tears. Hot and sharp, they filled her eyes and tightene
d her throat like fingers wrapped around her neck. Worse, once she let them out, there was no way to pull them back.
“I—” She swallowed the hiccup, even as another hard sob swamped her.
And then it didn’t matter. There was no need for words or explanations or even apologies as Donovan pulled her against that broad, capable, gloriously strong chest. He held her there, his arms around her and his hand nestled against her head where he stroked her hair, seeing her through the uncontrollable rush of emotion and raw adrenaline that finally had a place to land.
Sobs racked her frame as the hot tears continued to pour, unchecked, from her eyes. Abstractly, she thought to be embarrassed, but the sheer relief of expelling all that pent-up emotion kept her from dwelling on anything for too long.
As the tears finally subsided, those lingering moments of embarrassment bubbled to the surface. On a hiccup, she looked up at him, attempting to slip from his hold. “I am sorry.”
He didn’t budge, a wall of heat and man and solid strength. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I...I mean... I—” A horrified squeak fell from her lips as she realized she stood in her kitchen, crying her eyes out in front of a virtual stranger. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. And while you’re at it, forget embarrassed, anxious or silly. You had a bad day. A really bad day. This will help you start to feel better.”
As pep talks went, his admonishments did the trick. The embarrassment was already fading and in its place came that subtle tug of attraction her body still remembered from all those years ago.
Donovan Colton was an impressive man, and not just for the solid physique and commanding presence. The man had layers. She’d sensed it five years ago and she sensed it now, even as she had no reason for the observation.
Yet something was there.
Her mother had always teased her about being borderline psychic but she’d never paid it much mind. Bellamy had always believed instead it meant taking the time to observe her surroundings. She wasn’t shy, per se, but she wasn’t the first person to leap in and begin talking. Rather, she appreciated the opportunity to sit and observe before being called on to say anything.