Whiskey River Runaway (Whiskey River Series Book 2)

by Justine Davis

  She smiled, but it looked somewhat half-hearted, acknowledging his words but as if she were focused elsewhere. The wariness kicked up another notch, and he wondered if there was a guy on the planet who could wake up to his woman studying him like that and not be nervous about what she was thinking. In his case he was nervous enough to just keep his mouth shut.

  Finally she spoke. “It was. . .nice. Especially to meet Adam’s family.”

  “They’re good people. His grandmother may be overbearing, but she loves every one of them, and has made sure Adam and Becca have everything they need while Reeve is deployed.”

  “She has to feel so alone sometimes, missing him, watching Adam grow and change without his father. It must be awful for her.”

  “Awful enough that she made a pass she didn’t mean at all,” he said, trying to gauge how she felt about what Becca had told her. “She’s crazy about Reeve.”

  For a long moment then she just looked at him. When she spoke again, her words startled him.

  “Is it different?” she asked.

  He hoped everything was different now. But was vaguely afraid it was a bit too male of him to think a decadent afternoon of incredible sex would fix everything. And he had a feeling that wasn’t what she meant anyway.

  “What?” he asked, carefully.

  “Sex with someone you love and with someone you don’t.”

  He felt as if a jackhammer had slipped and nailed him in the chest. His heart seemed to stutter for a moment, then race to make it up. For an instant a vision of Amanda flashed through his mind, and in it she was smiling, nodding.

  Don’t give up on life, True. . .you deserve to be happy.

  The words echoed in his head. He knew she had meant them.

  But how do I convince a woman who doesn’t seem to think she deserves to be happy?

  He didn’t know. But he lifted up on his elbow, met her gaze and gave her the only answer he could. An honest one.

  “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Thirty

  It was a moment before Hope could process what he’d said. Before it sunk in what he’d meant. Inanely, her first thought was what a True way to say it. Her second was that she’d clearly misunderstood. Her brain, filled to overflowing with wishful thinking of late, had taken a casual “I don’t know” and turned it into a declaration he’d had no intention of making.

  “Don’t run from it, Hope,” he said softly. “You don’t have to return it, or even accept it, but don’t run.”

  “I—”

  “I meant it. I know all the reasons it’s crazy, I know you never wanted this—”

  “No.”

  It was all she could get out, but she could see by the way his jaw tightened what he thought she was saying. She had to find the words, the right words, because she could not bear him to think what he was thinking. But neither could she say it back to him, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how true it was. How could it not be? He was the best, the finest man she’d ever met, the kind she’d been half convinced didn’t really exist. Any woman would fall in love with him.

  It wasn’t cold in the room, but she shivered anyway.

  “You’re wrong,” she got out, although her voice was a low, broken thing. “I want it. Too much. I can’t. . . It can’t. . .You know why.”

  The last words came out in a desperate sort of rush. Because she knew what it would mean, if she told him the truth, if she said she loved him, too. Because she knew as surely as she knew the dawning would grow lighter that True would fight for the people he loved.

  She felt the burning in her eyes, knew she was on the edge of tears. And then the edge crumbled, and she dashed at them as they began to flow down her cheeks. Useless, pointless things accomplishing nothing. She’d sworn off crying; it was a sign of weakness she could ill afford in what her life had become. And yet she had cried more here, in this place, than she could ever remember.

  And then True reached for her, pulled her into his arms. He didn’t speak, just held her. His warmth seeped into her, vanquishing the sudden chill that had swept her. In that moment she wanted more than anything to just hand it all over to him, to let his strength be hers.

  I will help you fight this. I will help you do whatever it takes for you to get your life back. . .

  But this was not his battle to fight, it was hers, and the fact that he would do it for her only made her more certain she could not let him. And even though he had also said he would stand by her if she decided she couldn’t fight, she could not help believing that she would be less than she could be in his eyes if she chose that course. And that thought was almost unbearable.

  Because he loved her.

  She shivered again, not from a chill but from the wonder of it. It was a moment before she realized he must have felt it, for he was stroking her back, long, steady strokes that somehow calmed her. She had a sudden vision of Kelsey Blaine stroking her frightened horse, and wondered if it was some instinctive thing these Texans knew.

  But she couldn’t deny the comfort it gave, she couldn’t. . .couldn’t. . .

  Oh, there was such a long list of things she couldn’t. And a very short list of things she wanted. And with fate’s wicked sense of twisted humor, the one made the other impossible. But for the first time her mind crept into a dark corner she’d kept blocked off since that night Kim had died, so hideously, right in front of her. Not the memory of that, and of the boy who had also died that night, those images she revisited far too often, against her will.

  No, in this corner were the images of what it would be like if she went back, if she went to the cops, if she did what True would do, stood up, stood strong. And for the first time she didn’t reject the idea instantly. If there was a way to keep Gran and Gramps safe, if she could—

  His phone rang, with an intricate guitar riff she realized she’d heard before. Often. It was from one of the songs on the playlist Zee usually had going in the office.

  He went very still.

  “True?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  She thought about asking why he thought she was naked in bed with him if she didn’t, but something about the way he was acting told her this was not the time for jokes.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  He sat up abruptly. Simultaneously grabbed his phone and the nearest shirt, which happened to be his. He tossed the latter to her.

  “You might want to put that on for a minute.”

  And then he answered the phone.

  “Jamie?” A pause. And then he was smiling. Widely. Anything that made him smile like that couldn’t be bad, could it? “Thanks, my friend.”

  He glanced at her then. Drew in a breath like a man about to plunge off a cliff. “It’s safe, Hope.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What is?”

  “Nobody will ever, ever be able to connect the guy who owns the phone on the other end to you.”

  “True, what are you talking about?”

  “Video chat,” he said.

  She blinked. “What? Me? Now?” Instinctively her hand went to hair tousled by his hands. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think. And they won’t care.”

  “They?”

  He handed her the phone. She hesitated, but something in the way he was looking at her made her take it. It was still a moment before she looked down at the screen.

  She was looking at the face of a total stranger. Male, True’s age or maybe a bit younger. Sandy blond hair, a little long, with a couple of lighter strands kicking forward over his forehead. Green eyes, so vivid they gleamed even on the phone screen. In fact all of him seemed vivid, in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “Hi, Hope. We’ll meet later, but in the meantime there are some folks who’d really like to see you.”

  The image blurred as the phone moved, she saw a sign but couldn’t read it. Yet it seemed familiar somehow. Hope’s eyebrows lowered in bewilderment. And then the image stilled again. A tiny so
und escaped her, nothing less than a whimper.

  “Gran? Gramps?”

  Her voice was barely a whisper, but her grandmother’s voice was louder as she cried out, “Hope! Oh my God honey, it’s really you.”

  “We were afraid you were dead, squirt,” her grandfather said, a quaver in his usually steady, deep voice.

  “No, no, I’m fine, I’m good, really, I. . .” She stopped, her throat too tight to get out another word as she stared down at the two beloved faces she’d feared she would never see again. She was aware that True had left the room to give her privacy, but she wished he had stayed. She felt so wobbly right now she could use his solid strength. “Are you all right?” she finally managed.

  “We’re better now,” her grandfather said. “We’ve been mighty worried about you, girl.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but you don’t—”

  “We know, Hope,” her grandmother said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out when the police came looking for a witness to those awful murders.”

  She sucked in a breath. She should have known; her grandparents were as sharp as ever.

  “Come home, honey,” her grandmother said urgently. “It’s all right.”

  “I. . .can’t,” she said, in the weakest declaration of it she’d ever made.

  “You can,” her grandfather said. “We know why you went, to protect us, and we love you for it, but it’s all right. You can come home.”

  “I can’t. You’ll never be safe.”

  “Don’t write us off so easily. I remember a few things about fighting, and that gang isn’t what it used to be,” her grandfather said stoutly. “They’ve cleared a lot of them out over the last couple of years. And the feds are chipping away at the cartel from the other end. Haven’t put the ringleader away yet, but they will someday. But they’re getting close on the guy here, who killed Kim.”

  Close. He didn’t say it, he never would, but it seemed to be glowing in neon in her mind. They could put him away now if you testified.

  “He can still give orders from jail. You’re only safe there if he knows you don’t know where I am.” She didn’t want to waste this precious time on this. “Are you all right? Both of you?”

  “Missing our girl, but we’re fine, Hope,” her grandmother said. “It’s been hard, searching for you for so long—”

  “You’re still searching?”

  Her grandfather snorted. “Of course we are! You think we’re a couple of old fuddy-duddies who’d just let you vanish like that without doing a thing?”

  Her mind was racing. She should have known. Neither one of these feisty septuagenarians would have just let her go and stayed home worrying. They would have done something.

  Did you not learn anything from them at all?

  “This boy here, he says you’re in a safe place,” her grandmother said.

  “I. . .yes.”

  “Seems nice, under all that scruff and messy hair,” her grandfather put in.

  Since she had no idea who the guy they were referring to was, she couldn’t say much about that.

  “He also says the man who set this up is the best, most honest, decent and honorable man he’s ever known.”

  True. In the shock and joy of seeing them she’d almost forgotten about the engineer of it all. But the feelings came flooding back now, amplified by the small miracle he’d wrought. For her.

  “He is,” she whispered. “He is all of that. And more.”

  She was sure everything she was feeling was showing in her face, but she didn’t care.

  “I told you you’d find him, someday,” her grandmother said, sounding inordinately pleased, “the man who could make you feel like that.”

  Someday you’ll find a man who will make you feel the way your grandfather makes me feel, Hope. When you do, you grab him and hold on.

  Hold on.

  And for the first time since the night her life had dissolved into an ugly, bloody mess, she felt a rush of the emotion she’d not allowed herself to feel since.

  The emotion she was named for.

  Hope.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She heard the faintest sound at the door and looked up from the now blank phone screen. True was peeking in, and she guessed he’d judged from her silence that the call was over.

  “You mad?” he asked, sounding wary.

  She shook her head, not sure she could trust her voice yet. True took it as a sign it was safe to come back in. In a moment he was sitting beside her on the bed.

  “You look great in my shirt,” he said.

  “It smells good. Like you.”

  He blinked. “I. . .okay.”

  “Who is he? The guy with the phone?”

  “Jamie. Jamie Templeton. He’s from here.”

  Templeton. The people who were killed with his parents? She thought so, but didn’t want to bring it up now. “I gathered,” she said. “He had good things to say about here. . .and you.”

  True shrugged. “We’ve been friends a long time. And,” he said with a slightly wry expression, “that was his aunt’s house you were squatting in.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Oh. I should have apologized.”

  “No need. At least, not yet. I didn’t tell him. He’s a bit touchy about that house because Zee nags him about it.”

  “Why is he in Los Angeles?”

  He smiled then. “Ever heard of Scorpions On Top?”

  She nodded. “They were the hottest thing when I left L.A. They’re really good.” Another realization hit. “Your ring tone, that was from that song of theirs, about the river.”

  He nodded. “They’re playing L.A. this weekend.”

  “Your friend went to see them?”

  True grinned. “Honey, Jamie is them. Lead singer, songwriter, and guitarist.”

  She blinked. All the music that had been the background for her work these past weeks ran through her head, all the driving rock, the intricate arrangements, the beautiful lyrics. . .and that voice.

  She stared at True. “So you called the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the country and. . .had him run an errand for you?”

  “You can take the boy out of Whiskey River,” he said, ending with a shrug.

  The last thing Jamie said to her, as her grandparents had handed back his phone, played back in her mind. Can’t wait to meet the woman who finally brought True back to the living. In the meantime, thanks.

  “When their music comes on Zee always seems—” she began, but stopped when he put up his hands.

  “No, thanks. Not my pool to swim in.”

  So there was something there. She hadn’t just imagined those brief moments of stillness whenever a song featuring that voice had come up in the stream.

  “How. . .did you. . .did he find them?”

  “You told me their names. I took a shot that they lived near the park in your picture, and near the accounting office. Jamie’s pretty Internet search savvy, and he found them from that.”

  That would have given her chills, how easy it had been, had she not been so stunned.

  “They made the call from the park, so it would look even more random,” he said, as if he’d sensed her thought.

  She looked at him then, saw by his watchful expression that he was letting her ramble, talking about everything but what was obviously the most important.

  “I don’t know what to say to you.” Her voice was low, quavered slightly, but she didn’t try to hide it. He deserved to hear the emotion, the wonder she was feeling. “What you did was. . .the best thing anybody’s ever done for me.”

  She saw him let out a long breath. “I was afraid you’d be angry.”

  “I might have been, but there, at the park, with him making the call, on his phone. . .you’re right, there’s no way on earth anyone would connect him to me.”

  “Although they might be wondering about your grandparents’ taste in music.”

  She laughed. Actually laughed. “Gramps is more of an oldies guy,
but Gran loves keeping up. Says it tickles her to hear what’s old become new again. And if I know her, she’ll be tracking down his music the minute they get home.”

  “They sound amazing, Hope.”

  “They are.”

  She waited, staring down at the silent phone still in her hands. She knew what she expected him to say. That she should go home to them, that she should never have left them, or even that he’d like to meet them. He said none of it. And finally she looked up at him. What she saw in his face, in his eyes, had their exchange ringing in her head.

  I will help you fight this. I will help you do whatever it takes for you to get your life back.

  Going to find him and kill him for me?

  Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.

  He wouldn’t, she knew that bone deep. But that he would even consider it meant. . .she wasn’t sure there was a word for the scope of what that meant to her.

  I will stand by you if you decide you can’t.

  She had no doubt anymore of that, either. He would stand by her, live with her decision.

  The only doubt she had left was one she thought she had quashed long ago: Could she live with it?

  In the space of one phone call everything had changed. And she realized her biggest decision was no longer going back and facing what she’d run from, but accepting what she’d found here.

  Someday you’ll find a man who will make you feel the way your grandfather makes me feel, Hope. When you do, you grab him and hold on.

  Grab him and hold on.

  She dropped the phone on the bed. And did just that.

  She poured everything she was feeling into every touch, every stroke, every caress. She had them both back to naked in seconds. She was all over him, heedless of the wild thing she had become. She heard him swear once, low and harsh.

  “Stop?” she asked.

  “God, no,” he said reverently, pressing himself against hands that were tracing every line of him. Especially the part she wanted back inside her as soon as she could have it. Which, judging by his already rigid state, would be as soon as she wanted.