On His Honor

by Jean Brashear

  But herself…that woman was the real problem, the Violet who was a Southern girl, a funny, bright and normal woman, country-born and raised. A woman a man could imagine in his home, his bed. Rocking his babies. Nestling in his arms, content and happy spending her life with him.

  That Violet he already liked far too much. Was way too attracted to what was inside her, the gutsy, tart-tongued creature he’d swum with, run with, teased and played with.

  But even if he didn’t feel like crap having to lie both to her and to his friends about why he was with her…even if he didn’t have to keep deceiving her for God knows how much longer because it was his job and people were dying out there…

  If she ever found out why they’d come together in the first place, any chance they might have for a future would vanish. He could not stand the thought of hurting this remarkable woman he—

  Oh, no. God, no. I can’t love her. No way would he let himself.

  That Violet, the one he truly wanted, might only come out when she was away from her real life. And how often would that happen? Already she was making noises about going back.

  Talk about opening Pandora’s box…

  You just couldn’t let it be, could you? Couldn’t step back, keep your distance, keep your hands to yourself, however much hers were on you. Oh, no—and now look what you’ve done.

  You deserve the pain headed your way, sucker.

  Just then he noticed that her body had gone tense beneath his, probably in response to his own unease. If he rose from the bed now, what would she see on his face?

  He might be one hell of a professional liar, but he wasn’t good enough to hide what was surely written all over his features.

  “JD?” Her fingers tightened on his hand, her voice uncertain.

  Do right by her. She’s the innocent in all this.

  He pressed a kiss between her breasts to buy himself time. “Hmm?”

  Then her stomach growled, and he seized the distraction. He could feed her, that’s what he could do next. While he was figuring his way out of this mess he’d made.

  “You lucked out. If I hadn’t needed to buy coffee and toilet paper, there would only be frozen pizza in this house. But I bought a few other things while I was out.”

  “What, chips and beer?”

  She smiled and he wanted to open his mouth and confess everything. But what good would that do? He might feel better, but she’d feel one hell of a lot worse.

  And there were lives at stake. They were innocent, too.

  Pretending a light heart took all he had. “I’ll have you know I went to Whole Foods. Even got you hummus and—” he gave an elaborate shudder “—quiche. I’m telling you right now, though, you have to take any leftovers back with you. No way am I letting anybody find it in my refrigerator later.”

  A cloud drifted through her gaze. “Because, of course, there will be a later, won’t there? Only not for us.”

  JD blinked. Did that mean she would mind? “Are you leaving already?”

  “I should. I ought to get back to L.A. I have scripts piling up, and I have to start rehearsals next month, but…” Her conflict showed.

  That would be best for both of them. Only pain lay down this road. Oh, Doc. Free me from this. She doesn’t know anything about Lofton’s crimes.

  Once again, he resorted to humor to disguise his misery over his role. “On second thought, the quiche stays here, and you can’t leave until it’s all gone.”

  A tiny smile pushed some of the clouds away. “I’d like that.”

  “I should have bought a bigger one. Even though my manhood would definitely be compromised.”

  She twirled a lock of his hair. “Your manhood seems quite healthy to me.” A challenging arch of her eyebrows.

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  “I am.” She wiggled out from beneath him. Shoved at his shoulder and rose over him, then nipped lightly at his throat. “Ravenous.”

  “Well, I can’t let a guest starve.” He crushed her to him, buried his face in her hair to hide the bleak look in his eyes.

  Then he forced all that despair away and rolled her again, determined to apologize to her in the only way he could right now. The only way he could be honest. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” He bent to his task with every weapon at his disposal as regret pummeled him. She would hate him in the end, and he would take the punishment—which he would deserve—along with the loneliness headed his way. Life would never be the same once she was gone.

  Whatever has to happen to me, so be it.

  Just, please…let her be okay.

  * * *

  VIOLET SAT CROSS-LEGGED on his kitchen counter, clad only in JD’s shirt while he ranged the kitchen in a pair of jeans and nothing else. “Why did you finish the kitchen first?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know…I guess because most guys wouldn’t.”

  “Most guys don’t have my mom.”

  “Don’t tell me. She made you do it. You poor thing.” She snorted. “Not. I bet your mother is sweet and kind and worships the ground you walk on.”

  “Well, of course she does. Who wouldn’t?” He paused a beat. “That doesn’t mean she won’t kick my ass from here to Dallas if she thinks I need it.”

  “Does that happen often? How tall is she?”

  “It’s not the size you bring to the fight, Hollywood. It’s the size of the fight you bring.”

  She grinned. “I wish I could meet her.”

  His brows rose nearly to his hairline. “Now that’s just scary. Next thing I know, you two would be swapping stories. Can’t have that.”

  “Because I’d find out you’re stretching the truth just a tad?”

  He looked away, then back. “She’d like you.” All mirth had fled his voice.

  “I bet I’d like her, too.”

  He looked so sad then, and she felt it, too, the distance between this little fantasy island they were on and the real world each of them lived in. The tug on her heart at the thought of leaving him was nearly unbearable, but it was worse to see his light dimmed.

  She seized on a distraction. “A pity someone with a kitchen this beautiful can’t cook.”

  “You think I can’t cook?”

  “Well…”

  He snorted. “Sexist.”

  “It’s not sexist if it’s true.” Then she reconsidered. “But now that I think about it, I never noticed any pizza boxes.” She cocked her head, trying to recall the bedroom floor, then had to shrug. “I have no idea if there was laundry on your floor. All I can remember is the bed.”

  Their eyes met. Held. “Mmm… .” She licked her lips and smiled. “Guess I’ll have to go back and check.”

  “If you get near my bed, we won’t be leaving it anytime soon.”

  “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  “I don’t believe there’s much that scares you, Hollywood. I sure as hell don’t want to.” But he looked troubled.

  He didn’t scare her…except with how much he could make her want him. “Come here.” She held out her arms.

  He hesitated. Just as she was about to retract the invitation, he crossed the floor in two strides and wrapped her in an embrace she was terribly afraid she needed too much. She snuggled in, anyway, savoring the feel of safe harbor. Of course it was mostly illusion—not that he wasn’t a born protector. But this was a time out of mind, a flight of fancy, nothing more.

  “Violet…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I wish…” He didn’t finish, only went very still for an endless moment.

  Then he squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe.

  And stepped back. “I haven’t run toda
y. I need to. Want to get your gear from Sophie’s and come with me or would you rather just stay there?”

  He was distancing himself, and she should be glad. She had to regain some objectivity herself. “Maybe I should go back. You must have plenty else on your plate.” The seesaw was excruciating, the drop from sheer glory to near despair too fast. Too painful.

  “I’m not asking you to go. I just…” He looked away, his brow furrowed. “I need to run.”

  His outlook was always so positive that he made life seem effortless. She had to remember that this situation might be difficult for him, too.

  What was the fair thing to do, to stay or to go? What was best for him?

  He tossed her a lifeline. “We could go have Mexican food after.”

  Her relief was boundless. She didn’t have to say goodbye yet. “We’d better run twice as far, then. My trainer is definitely going to kill me.”

  His expression lightened. “If you had a good bodyguard, he’d protect you.”

  “My body’s never been cared for half so well.” She turned away before her heartache got the better of her. “I’ll get dressed.”

  Mercifully, he stayed downstairs while she made her way up.

  * * *

  JD WAITED UNTIL SHE WAS OUT of hearing then punched in Doc’s number.

  “Romero.”

  He hesitated. He couldn’t ask to be relieved unless he wanted to explain why. Because his heart was getting involved wouldn’t be reason enough. He had a job to do. “I just have a second. Any news?”

  “Lofton went to the warehouse in Houston.”

  “And?”

  “He was inside about two minutes then hightailed it out. He’s on the road again and should be headed back. You need to stick close to her.”

  “Why?”

  “He left a body at the scene.”

  “What? Whose?”

  “His partner in the warehouse. Too soon to know for sure, but the coroner doesn’t think Lofton did it. Neither does our tail. He came back out looking the same as he went in. No blood spatter, no weapon left at the scene and none on him, best the tail could see.”

  “Gonna pick him up?”

  “No. Don’t want to spook him into running. There’s too much we can’t put together yet, and he’s our best lead. Stay with her in case he calls. Don’t let her out of your sight…or your hearing, either.”

  “Wish I could help back there.”

  “I don’t. You’re with the best asset we’ve got right now. Hang tight.”

  “I will.” He’d hang very tight now. Maybe Lofton wasn’t the killer, maybe he was—but the rats were turning on each other, and that’s when things got really dangerous. He was damn glad he had an excuse to be with Violet. She needed to be as far away from Lofton as possible until this was over.

  No way he was letting her get hurt.

  All ambiguity fled. He would be allowed to tell her the truth as soon as they pinned down Lofton’s involvement in the latest killing. The news that her friend was a criminal would be painful for her, but he would be there for her until she had to return to L.A. Until then, he was exactly where he needed to be. No one else would guard her as he would.

  When he went back upstairs to change, he made sure his clutch piece came with him. When he rejoined her downstairs, he smiled without his earlier reservations. “Come on, Hollywood. Let’s stretch our legs.”

  When she smiled at him, he bent and kissed her. “And pack a bag while you’re at the hotel. If you want to, that is.” And even if you don’t, I’m staying with you.

  “Oh, I want to.” She went through the door, looking over her shoulder with a cheeky smile. “I mean, there’s all that quiche to work my way through.”

  He laughed and followed her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU HAVE NOT READ JANE AUSTEN,” Violet spluttered into her margarita.

  “I swear to you I have.”

  “Why? Never mind. Of course, there must be a woman involved in the story.”

  He looked indignant. “Maybe I just read it because I wanted to.”

  “Uh-huh…just like you’re going to take that quiche to work with you.” She studied him. “Recite me the first line of Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Some junk about a rich guy needing a wife.” He crunched another tortilla chip.

  She blinked. “Very badly put, but basically correct.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s one of the most famous lines in literature. You could have heard it somewhere.”

  “You call that stuff literature? No, babe. I’m sorry, but literature is, like, ‘I hate rude behavior in a man. I won’t tolerate it.’”

  “What on earth is that?”

  He clapped one hand to his chest. “Oh, man…now you’ve really got me worried. That’s from Lonesome Dove, honey. Larry McMurtry. A true classic.”

  “It is, huh?”

  “Please. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you don’t read comic books.”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Don’t toy with me, sugar. What comic books?”

  She’d read her brothers’ comic books a million years or so ago. What were they? “Um…Spider-Man?”

  He snorted. “Bush league. I’m talking serious comics, like Avengers or X-Men. Peter Parker’s for babies.”

  “Well, excuse me. I bow to your superior taste.”

  “Damn straight.”

  She broke up laughing. “You are incorrigible.”

  “So we’ve covered important literature.” He went on over her splutter, grinning. “What kind of music do you like? You’re a Tennessee girl, so country, right?”

  “Riiiight. You don’t typecast much, do you?”

  “Wait—so you’re saying you don’t honor your roots?”

  “Boy, you play rough.” She was having a blast. “Okay, nothing wrong with country. Keith Urban rocks, and I adore Tim McGraw, but I also love Coldplay and Dave Matthews. Is country your thing?”

  He shook his head. “Heavy metal all the way. Metallica, Poison, AC/DC…hair bands rule.”

  “Seriously?”

  He grinned. “Gotcha. Nope, blues is my favorite, but my mom is still crazy over Motown—bet I could sing you every Temptations song ever made. And Toby Keith kicks butt.” He leaned across the table. “Austin has every kind of music you can imagine. Want to catch some afterward?”

  “Is Avery’s club very far away?”

  His jaw flexed. “Didn’t you say he was out of town?”

  “He’s due back soon, but…” He hadn’t offered to see her. Just dropping by his club might not be the best idea. “Never mind. Surprise me.”

  His gaze warmed. “You got it.”

  * * *

  THE MILES ROLLED PAST SOMEHOW. Avery didn’t know where he was or how long he’d been driving aimlessly around until he realized he was nearing Galveston.

  He was headed in the wrong goddamn direction.

  He stabbed a finger at the GPS to zoom out. What the hell was the best way from here? He didn’t want to go back through Houston. What was the fastest way around? He zoomed out too far, closed in too much—

  Damn it! His fist slammed down onto the console. He swerved into the first convenience store he spotted. Jammed the car into park and shoved his head back into the headrest.

  Damn it, Sage. Damn you.

  For a second, he imagined not going back to Austin. Leaving this disaster in the hands that had created it.

  He’d told her he’d take care of it. Bately would have listened to him. They had a deal; he could have worked something out.

  But Sage hadn’t trusted him to do that, oh, no. She always wanted to take the lead, to call the shot
s.

  Or maybe she’d figured out that he had plans that didn’t include her. Bately and he had been exploring a partnership of their own.

  Now Bately was dead. Would anyone remember Avery being at the scene? Had he been spotted, coming or leaving? Had he left fingerprints? From the moment he’d picked up that sweet, metallic odor, his movements were a blur. Something deep in his animal brain had sensed that the smell was blood, but it had taken seeing the man lying on concrete, a gaping hole where his heart should have been, for Avery to flee without thinking.

  He could have touched a dozen surfaces in that warehouse. He didn’t know.

  Sage, you bitch.

  What he did know was that everything had suddenly turned very, very serious. He had a partner who was vicious and not quite sane. And they were in bed with men who made her look tame.

  He eyed the road ahead of him. He could keep going until he crossed the border.

  No. Lima would find him. Mexico was the cartel’s turf.

  He’d be dead in days.

  Maybe he’d find his way to I-10 and just keep driving cross-country. He could light out for the West Coast and drive straight through. He’d be in California in twenty-four hours or so if he didn’t stop to sleep.

  He might never sleep again, anyway.

  Bately’s dead eyes wouldn’t let him.

  But the person who’d offer shelter to him in L.A. wasn’t there—she was sitting back in Austin, innocently waiting for him to return. He couldn’t leave town yet, but Violet needed to do so, immediately. She had to get as far away from the looming disaster as possible.

  He fingered his phone. Started to punch in her number.

  The hour was late. He would wake her. What would he say, anyway?

  But he had to go back. Face down Sage and figure his way out of this mess. Fortunately, he’d had misgivings early on in this enterprise and had socked away money along with two passports, one his own and one that only looked like him.

  A visceral sense of danger was kicking in, sharpening his wits. He would return, get the money and passports and keep them with him at all times. He’d call Violet in the morning and determine her plans for going home. She should be going back soon, anyway, but he’d nudge her gently.