If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Walker, Shiloh

  She clenched around him.

  “We should know better,” he muttered. Then he arched up. At the same time, he started to rock her against him. “But screw it.”

  She smiled and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the mattress just above his shoulders. It brought her breasts just in line with his mouth.

  Ezra lifted his head and closed his lips around one pink nipple, catching it between his teeth, biting gently.

  Lena whimpered and clenched around him. Milking him, a silken fist. When she sobbed out his name and shuddered, when her nails bit into the skin of his shoulders, it felt like glory, like heaven … completion. Skimming his hands up over her sides, he cupped her shoulders in his hands, rolling them over.

  He needed to see her, needed to watch her face. He caught her hands, lacing his fingers with hers and rested his brow on hers. “Lena,” he whispered.

  The thick, dark fringe of her lashes lifted and she raised her head, pressed her mouth to his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she rose to meet him, strong, steady and sure.

  Their bodies strained, breath mingled. Hearts raced as one. Her cries rose in the air, underscored by Ezra’s low, rough groan. Her name was on his lips as he came and when it ended, he collapsed with his head resting between her breasts, weak as a kitten, barely able to breathe, and his head, his heart, and his soul completely full of her.

  She was all he could think of.

  All he could feel.

  Reaching up, he caught her hand, held it in his. “Lena …”

  “Hmmm?”

  He shook his head, surprised he had the strength to even do that. “Nothing.”

  Shifting in the bed, he moved up next to her, tucking her body against his. She curled against him and he wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his chin on her head.

  He held her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep, his eyes on the trees just beyond her window.

  SHE WOKE IN BED ALONE. BUT SHE WASN’T ALONE IN the room.

  Her skin prickled and for the span of two heartbeats, her body was tense and her fingers curled into the sheets while her mind raced.

  But then her sleepy mind caught up and she remembered falling asleep … in Ezra’s arms. She’d slept next to him, and now she was awake and he was here. It gave her the weirdest sense of satisfaction. Completion—somehow.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said from over by her window.

  She listened as he crossed the hardwood floors and joined her on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he stretched out next to her.

  “Just thinking.” He sighed, and she could hear the frustration, the anger lingering in his voice. His house, she knew. He was thinking about his house. “I’m going to have to see if I can’t find a place to rent in or around town. Call my insurance agent.”

  She stroked a hand up his tense back. Sitting up, she laid her hands on the knotted muscles there and started to knead them. He groaned and his head fell forward. “It could be worse,” she said quietly. “I’m just glad you weren’t in the house.”

  Her gut twisted even thinking about it. She’d just found him … what if he had been in the house? What if she’d lost him just when she’d finally found him? Just when she was ready to admit what he meant to her? It made her heart hurt to even think about it.

  “Hey.”

  He reached up and pulled her down in front of him. Staring at her again—she could feel it. Blushing, she buried her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Sorry. I just … I don’t know. Just kind of blindsided me all of a sudden. What if you’d been asleep? What if you’d gotten caught inside?”

  “Don’t.” He tilted her face up to his and pressed his lips to hers. “Those are the kind of games that can drive you out of your mind. Trust me, I know. I wasn’t in the house, and I didn’t get caught. I’m fine.” He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “See? I’m fine.”

  “I know … it’s just …” To her horror, Lena realized the burning in her eyes was tears—she was getting ready to cry. “Oh, shit. What is wrong with me?”

  “Reaction.” He kissed one eye, then the other, and when a tear broke free, he wiped it away. Wrapping his arms around her, he rocked her.

  Pressed close against him, listening to his heart beat, she ran her hands up and down his sides, reassuring herself that he was fine. He was here. Right here … with her.

  Right where I want him to be, she realized.

  Right where she needed him to be.

  That thought lingered in her mind even after the tears passed.

  Dashing them away with the back of her hand, she murmured, “I feel like an idiot.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder.

  There was a breeze drifting in through the window, cool, damp with the promise of more rain. Fall was moving in on them, hard and fast, it seemed … she could smell it on the air.

  She found herself thinking about the woods bordering her house.

  And her.

  The woman.

  That night … the screams.

  “It’s not over, is it?” Lena asked softly.

  Ezra stroked a hand down her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. “My gut says no.”

  “The woman found at Law’s … you think it was her?”

  “I don’t know. But whether it was or not, it’s not over.” His arms tightened around her waist and he pressed his face against her neck. “Shit, I don’t like to think about you being alone out here, Lena. There’s just too much crazy shit going on.”

  She didn’t answer.

  She wasn’t about to give up her independence over crazy shit.

  But …

  As they sat down to eat, sandwiches and soup, Lena tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

  It was a logical decision.

  Based on not just her heart, and not just her head. But both.

  There was definitely crazy shit going on lately, and too much of it seemed somehow related to her.

  And she was crazy … crazy about Ezra. She hadn’t ever rushed headlong into a relationship in her life, and she knew she shouldn’t do it now—but this didn’t feel like a rush.

  It just felt … right.

  He felt right.

  The same way it had felt right to major in culinary arts.

  The same way it had felt right to take the money that had been left to her by her father and use it to buy the house that had once belonged to her parents when she’d lived here with them as a child.

  The same way it had felt right to take the job working at Running Brook.

  Even the way it had felt right to make that damned phone call that might have started all this trouble.

  Whether they’d known each other a long time or not, if it felt right, what did it matter?

  It doesn’t, she told herself.

  And once she realized that was the truth of it, it was that much easier to think about it … and smile.

  “What’s got that cat-and-canary grin on your face?”

  Glancing up, she shot a smile in Ezra’s direction. “I dunno … I guess I just figured something out.” She took a bite of her sandwich and then set it down. Licking her lips, she wiped her hands on a napkin and then took a deep breath. While she had the courage, she needed to get this done.

  “I was thinking …” Holy shit. I really am going to do this, aren’t I?

  She thought about how it had felt, falling asleep with him. Waking with him there.

  “Don’t go looking for a place to rent. Stay here.”

  The only response was the sound of silverware clattering to the table, and then to the floor.

  Ten seconds of silence stretched into twenty, and her heart raced as he said nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  After another twenty seconds of absolutely nothing, she forced a smile. “I guess I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be st
unned into silence.”

  “Maybe I’m just a little confused about why you’re suggesting that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Lena licked her lips. Her throat was dry. Painfully. She reached for her water and took a sip, then a larger one. After she’d drained the glass, she set it down. Still thirsty, still trying to find the words. “Well, it makes sense. You need a place. I’ve got room.”

  “So this is a rational, neighborly type of arrangement?”

  “No.” She reached for the water glass again, more to have something to do this time. Pushing back from the table, she walked over to the kitchen counter. Why did it suddenly seem like that walk took a lot longer than normal? She could feel his eyes, all but boring a hole into her spine. Willing her to turn around so he could see her face. She didn’t have her sunglasses, and she realized she was nervous about facing him without them.

  Coward.

  Filling her glass, she turned around and faced him.

  She’d been so distracted, so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized he’d gotten up until one of the floorboards squeaked under his weight. Catching her breath, she held still as he reached out, stroked a hand down her face.

  “Is it because you’re freaked out by all the crazy?” Ezra said softly. “I can’t say I blame you there.”

  She scowled. “All the crazy, as you call it, would be enough to freak anybody out, but no. That’s not it … or not all of it. It’s …” She stopped and closed her eyes. “I liked falling asleep with you. I liked knowing you were there when I woke up. I like knowing you’re here right now.”

  Licking her lips, she reached out and hooked a hand in the front of his jeans, tugged him close. “I just kind of like having you around, Ezra King. What can I say?”

  He caught her face in his hands and tipped her head back. “You kind of like having me around?” he echoed, reluctant amusement underlining his voice.

  “Yeah. Like you said earlier, it feels right.” She hooked her hands around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “I’m big on doing what feels right. And you … Ezra, you feel right to me. You feel all kinds of right.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah.” She nibbled on his lower lip. He opened his mouth and she hummed in satisfaction, sliding her tongue into his mouth. Man, she loved his taste. Loved the way he let her kiss him without trying to control it the way some guys did.

  He boosted her up on the edge of the counter and moved between her thighs, resting his hands just below her hips.

  But when he reached for the hem of her shirt, she pulled her mouth away and batted at his hands. “Stop it. You’re going to distract me. We were talking about something.”

  “Hey, I can multitask. I can talk and undress you at the same time,” he said, slipping his hands under the shirt and cupping her breasts.

  Lena swallowed a groan and just barely managed to keep from shivering as he pinched her nipples. “You can undress me when we’re done talking. What do you think? Good idea? Lousy idea?”

  “Oh, it’s definitely a good idea.” He paused long enough to nip her chin. “I’d say I’d move in as soon as I could pack, except … well, there’s not much to pack.”

  The heavy irony in his voice had the smile fading from her face, and she reached up, rested a hand on his face. “I still can’t believe you lost it all—everything.”

  “I didn’t. I’ve got everything that matters,” he said quietly. “Right here.”

  He kissed her softly. “And if you’re sure, if you’re serious, hell, yes, I’d love to move in. But are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a nervous smile. “I’m not exactly ready to talk wedding rings and all, but we’ve already kind of established we’re serious here.” She caught his hand and pressed a kiss to it. “You need a place to stay, and I think we’d both feel better if I had somebody here with me right now anyway. And I’m pretty certain I don’t want anybody else in my personal space other than you. It’s logical. It makes sense.”

  He chuckled. “You’re such a romantic, Lena. You’re making me blush here.”

  “Oh, I can make you blush,” she said, giving him a sly smile. Then she shrugged. “It’s not just the logic, though. It’s because it’s you … and it’s me. And it’s right. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

  His response was to press his mouth to hers.

  They made love right there, on the kitchen counter.

  When it was over, he murmured, his breathing still ragged, “Yeah. It’s right.”

  It was enough.

  For them. For now.

  Author’s Note

  Some creative license was taken with this trilogy. Carrington County is a fictional county set in Kentucky, roughly an hour away from Lexington.

  While I spoke with several lawyers and law-enforcement professionals while writing the stories, I realize certain aspects are still not going to be completely true to life. I hope it doesn’t take away from your enjoyment of them.

  For Lora Leigh and Jaci Burton—thanks, ladies, for helping me stay grounded back when I was trying to get this story together.

  For Lynn Viehl, for reading it through when I was trying to figure out if this was even a story worth telling.

  For Irene Goodman, my agent—thanks for taking me on in the middle of a mess, for falling in love with the story, and for giving me other stuff to worry about besides the writing.

  For my editor Kate—thanks so much for being so excited about this series and for not letting my insanity drive you insane, too.

  For my Twitter friend Shannon and her willingness to help me out while I wrote Lena’s story.

  And last, but never least … always, to my family. I love you all. You’re my always and my everything. I thank God for you every day, and it’s still not often enough.

  Acknowledgments

  There are an awful lot of people who helped me with this book, but some were an unbelievable help, and I want to offer my thanks. Without your help, this book might not have gotten written.

  Thank God for letting me live my dream, allowing me to use it in a way that lets me provide for the family You’ve given me.

  Another mention to Shannon, whom I met in the blog world … for answering a bunch of my weird and random questions.

  Terrie and Kristeen—I met Terrie at the American Printing House for the Blind and she was wonderful with answering questions, offering insight when I was first putting this book together. She introduced me to her friend Kristeen, who helped with all questions I had related to guide dogs … and there were many …

  Detective Todd H, who didn’t close the door late one night when a weird writer showed up asking yet more weird and random questions …

  Other people who answered weird and random questions … Karin Tabke, Nicole P, and an odd fruit by the name of Lime …

  Read on for an exciting preview of Shiloh Walker’s next thrilling romantic suspense novel

  “She’s a disturbed woman, I’m afraid to say.”

  Remington Jennings pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to think about the sad green eyes and silken brown hair of one Hope Carson. “Disturbed, how? Can you help me out any here, Detective Carson?”

  On the other end of the line, the man sighed. “I … well, I’m reluctant to do that. You see, I wouldn’t have a DA on the phone, asking about my wife, if there wasn’t trouble. And I don’t want to cause her trouble.”

  “She’s your ex-wife … and she’s already got trouble. Do you want her to get the help she needs or not?” Remy asked, his voice taking on a sharp edge. Hell, anybody with half a brain could see that woman wouldn’t hurt a fly unless she was just pushed …

  “You want to help her, is that it, Jennings?” The detective laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was sad and bitter.

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have called. I’m not trying to lock her up and throw away the key here. Help me out, Detective.” Damn it, Carson, gimme a break.

  “Help
you out. You mean help you help Hope.” Once more, Joseph Carson sighed. He was Hope’s ex and a cop from out west. He was also proving to be one hell of a pain in the ass.

  Faintly, Remy heard a heavy creak. “Mr. Jennings, pardon my French, but you can’t help Hope, because she doesn’t fucking want help. She’s a very troubled young woman. She … shit, this is hard, but we hadn’t been married very long when she was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. She’s manipulative, a chameleon—she can make a person believe whatever they need to believe. You might think you’re seeing a woman you can help—if she’ll just let you. But that’s not the case. You’re seeing what she wants you to see.”

  Remy clenched his jaw, closed his hand around the pen so tightly it snapped.

  Shit—that … no. Not right. Everything inside screeched just how wrong that was. It couldn’t be right—it just couldn’t.

  But his voice was cool, collected, as he said, “Borderline personality disorder, you said? Does she have a history of violence?”

  Long, tense moments of silence passed and finally, Carson said, “Yeah. There’s a history of violence. Only against herself … and me. I kept it very well hidden. I didn’t want people thinking bad things about her, and on my part … well, I was ashamed. For her, for myself, for both of us. It wasn’t until things got really bad that I couldn’t hide it anymore.”

  “You’re telling me she was violent with you?” Remy knew he needed to be making notes, processing this.

  But he couldn’t—couldn’t process, couldn’t even wrap his mind around it. That woman lifting her hand against somebody?

  No. The picture just wasn’t coming together for him.

  “Yes.” Carson sighed once more.

  “So you’re telling me she does have a history of violence?”

  “Shit, didn’t I just go through that?” Carson snarled.

  Remy clutched the phone so tight, it was amazing the plastic didn’t crack. This was wrong—so fucking wrong, and he knew it, knew it in his bones.