No Escape

by Mary Burton

  The officer believed she was being silly. That she was scattered. Emotional.

  And if she were to examine the pure facts, she couldn’t blame him. She looked a little crazed standing here in her sweats.

  She shoved a shaky hand through her hair. “I look like a crazy woman.”

  Her comment eased some of his tension. “Not crazy. And we’re here to take care of trouble.”

  She looked toward the open door. “I’ve never been so foolish, but maybe there’s a first for everything.”

  “Like I said, we’ll step up patrols in the neighborhood. Try to keep an eye out.”

  “Thanks.” She held out her hand and he accepted it. “I appreciate your help.”

  He touched the brim of his hat and moved past her toward his car. Her gaze on the open front door, she moved slowly toward her house. Once a place of safety, the space cast a tainted aura.

  She went inside her house, closed and locked the door. Atticus came out from under the couch and rubbed against her. He meowed his annoyance as the other two cats scooted out from under the couch. “I don’t like having the police in my house any more than you three. Believe me.”

  Her cell phone buzzed with a new text. She flinched, surprised she still clutched it.

  The text was from her sister. Jo glanced at the subject line. On a date!! A smile tugged the edge of Jo’s lips. Ellie had had a rough go since her divorce.

  Another text followed and this one had an image attached. Jo opened the text and saw a picture of her blond, beaming sister sitting next to the man. She recognized the man instantly. It was Dayton.

  “Damn it!” Her hands trembled as she dialed Ellie’s number. The phone rang twice before going to voicemail. “You’ve put the phone on silent. Call me when you get this.”

  The first meeting with Dayton could have been considered a happenstance. But a second and then a message from Casey at the bar. The wrappers. And now a date with Ellie. It all added up to stalking.

  Calling the police again wouldn’t be effective. What was she going to say? Her sister was on a date? Who could she call?

  She needed a friend.

  Someone that believed her.

  She dialed Santos’s number.

  Brody was in his office going through the collection of birthday cards Smith had sent to Jo. He’d bought a card for each of her birthdays starting at age twelve and going all the way up to her thirtieth birthday. In each he’d written a note detailing how proud he was of her accomplishments. Some included pictures of her taken from some distance. One included a picture of a woman Smith claimed was his mother. He’d included the picture in her sweet sixteen card. The black-and-white had been taken forty years ago and scribbled on the back was the name “Rachel” and the note, “You remind me so much of her.”

  Brody studied the image, searching for resemblances to Jo. There might have been some likeness but nothing definitive to make him take note. The bottom line was that Smith believed he was Jo’s father.

  A knock on his door had him looking up to find Santos standing in his doorway, his cell phone in hand and a frown on his face. “Guess who called me?”

  Brody tore his gaze from the card. “Not in the mood for games.”

  Santos moved into his office, not put off by Brody’s foul humor. “Dr. Jo Granger called me. She was trying to sound cool and collected, but she’s rattled.”

  Brody’s gut tightened as he rose. “Where is she?”

  Customary good humor had vanished in the wake of worry. “At home. She thinks she’s got a stalker.”

  “What?”

  Santos had the look of a man who itched to take action. “Dayton. Remember him?”

  Brody paused. “Sure, he was implicated in his wife’s disappearance.”

  “Jo interviewed him last week. Dayton’s defense attorney hired her firm for an analysis of his psychological makeup. Her report wasn’t favorable and since their only official meeting he’s been showing up.” He detailed the sequence of events including the date with Jo’s sister.

  Brody reached for his gun in his side drawer and holstered it. “And she called you.”

  Not me. You.

  “She called the local PD first who came and did a search of her house. They offered to patrol her neighborhood more.”

  Brody shook his head. “I’d already ordered more patrols in the neighborhood. Dayton is in his midthirties, right?”

  “You’re thinking about Smith’s apprentice.”

  “Do we have a profile of Dayton’s past?”

  “He’s a dentist. Went to dental school and undergrad in Texas. He moved to Texas when he was sixteen, from Tulsa.”

  “Foster care? Gaps in his past?”

  “None local police found. No red flags as far as Smith is concerned.”

  “That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.” Brody grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slid it on. “Why’d you come to me? I can see you want in on this.”

  A dark smile curved the edges of his lips. “Jo’s a great gal, and I’d like nothing better than to track Dayton and school him on some manners. But I don’t poach.”

  Poach. Santos believed Jo belonged with Brody. Brody could deny the claim on Jo. He could insist that the past was the past. That what they had was a mistake. Over.

  But he didn’t. There might not be much between Brody and Jo now, but that was something he’d planned to fix.

  Santos took his silence for indecision. “But if you don’t consider it poaching I’ll move in on her faster than you can blink.”

  Brody met his gaze, a half-unfriendly smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “I’d hate to beat you to a pulp.”

  Santos’s gaze sparked with amusement and challenge. “You sure could try.”

  “I’d whoop your ass.”

  “Not on your best day.” His lips flattened. “If you hurt her, I will beat your ass to a pulp.”

  “Understood.” Brody picked up his hat.

  Satisfied for now, Santos said, “I’ll ask around about Dayton. See what else I can find out.”

  “I want to know all there is to know about this son of a bitch.”

  Brody couldn’t drive to Jo’s fast enough. The urge to protect her was primal, and he didn’t question it.

  When he rang her bell, he listened to her hurried footsteps and the scrape of the chain against the door. A moment’s hesitation told him she was looking through the peephole. Good. Be careful.

  Her expression was grim when she opened the door. “Brody, what are you doing here?”

  He’d mucked up their chances good between them back in the day. Going forward he’d do some serious digging to get himself out of the hole he’d dug. “Santos told me you called.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I called him. Not you.”

  He searched the front porch, looking for signs of an intruder. “He told me you called.”

  She wore loose-fitting yoga pants, a tank top and no shoes. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. “Why would he do that?”

  He met her worried gaze. “You gonna let me in or not?” No sense getting into the winning her back part. Right now he suspected she’d slam the door in his face if he did. “I want to hear all you have to say about Dayton.”

  She hesitated and pushed open the screen door. “Thanks for coming.”

  He removed his hat and stepped into the house, which was as neat as it had been the last time he’d been here. “Where are the Three Musketeers?”

  That coaxed a smile. “Scattered in their favorite hiding spots. They are not happy about the upset to their routine.”

  “Neither are you.” Without her heels the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. And without makeup she looked younger and more vulnerable. He could see now that she wore both like coats of armor, and it wasn’t lost on him that she’d answered the door without both because she’d expected Santos, not him.

  “Can I get you a coffee? I put a pot on, and it should be read
y.”

  “That would be great. Been a long day.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. She’d already pulled out two mugs. For her and Santos. He didn’t dwell on what might be or what had been. He focused on what he had in front of him. And right how he had Jo all to himself.

  She poured the coffee and without asking splashed a bit of milk in the cup before handing it to him. “Good and hot.”

  His gaze lifted from the cup to her. “You remembered.”

  Frowning, she shrugged. “I didn’t even think.”

  He sipped the coffee. It tasted good.

  She held up her cup. “You remember how I take mine?”

  He arched a brow. “You’re asking if a twenty-one-year-old remembered how you took your coffee?”

  She smiled. “A stretch, I know, but I thought I’d ask.”

  Brody laid his hat on the table. “I never claimed to be the most observant kid unless it had to do with baseball.”

  She sipped her coffee black, a fact he’d not forget again. “You were always like a laser on the ballfield. I was surprised when you gave it up.”

  “The Marines made sense. I’d finished up school. We had a baby on the way, and I could count on a steady paycheck and benefits.”

  Her gaze dropped to the coffee as she swirled it. “I didn’t mean for you to give up baseball.”

  “I’d expected us to talk about it once you finished exams. But you lost the baby.”

  “And it all fell apart.” A furrow formed between her brows as she absorbed the information. “Then the Marines, DPS and the Rangers.”

  “That’s exactly right.” He nodded toward the kitchen table and when they were both seated he said, “Life can throw a curve, but sometimes that’s just fine.”

  “I suppose.”

  “What did you do after I saw you that last time in the hospital?”

  “Mom insisted I move home. I thought about quitting school after. Mom put me to work in the salon. Two weeks in the shop of setting perms and doing comb-outs and I was at college registration.”

  “Suppose she knew the right motivation to get you back to school.”

  Jo frowned. “I never thought about it that way. But I think you’re right.”

  Silence hung between them before he said, “Tell me about Dayton.”

  Jo leaned her elbows into the table, cradling the mug in her hands. She injected no drama and several times admitted she’d thought she was being paranoid, but when she’d seen the picture of her sister on a date with Dayton, she’d called Santos.

  Santos.

  Not again. Brody was the man she needed to call going forward when trouble rode up. “Santos is digging into Dayton’s business right now.”

  She shook her head. “Dayton is clever. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”

  A smile lifted the edge of his lips. “I wish I had a nickel for all the smart guys I’ve locked up. I’ll nail Dayton.”

  She arched a brow. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

  “I am.”

  “You can’t say for sure how it will go.”

  “We might have been married back in the day, but you don’t know me well now. You’ll learn that when I make a statement I back it up. Don’t you worry. Consider Dayton taken care of.”

  She stared at him a long moment. “I’d like nothing better than not to worry.”

  Brody had failed Jo once badly. And now he wanted to right that wrong. He wanted to protect her. Touch her. “I will stop Dayton. Trust me.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, and he saw the doubt. Carefully, she set down her coffee cup. “This isn’t such a great idea.”

  For a moment, he thought she’d peered into his mind and read his thoughts. “What isn’t a great idea?”

  She dropped her gaze to her cup as if carefully considering and weighing the words. “I can take care of myself, Brody. I don’t need your help.”

  “I want to help.”

  She drummed impatient fingers on the table, as if trying to restrain emotions she didn’t want released. “I called Santos for a reason. You should have let him come here tonight.”

  A growl rumbled in his chest as he set his cup next to hers. “Why him?”

  “Because he’s a friend. Because I trust him.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  Delicate brows rose. “I did once. And”—she attempted a smile—“it didn’t go well.”

  “I fucked up. In my ham-fisted way I tried to fix it. I didn’t. Now I want to make it right.”

  She tilted her head. “Your being here is about paying back some kind of debt to me?”

  “Sure. In part. I also care about you, Jo. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Why do you care about me, Brody? We barely know each other.”

  “We were married.”

  “Ancient history. You aren’t the kid you were, and I’m no longer a pushover.”

  “You were never a pushover, Jo.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but they glistened with anger and frustration, not sadness. “I stood there in that hospital room and listened to your accusations. For weeks and years after that night I replayed it over and over, wishing I’d told you to go to hell.” She swiped away an escaped tear. “But I stood there, dazed and quiet like a half-wit.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to fight me. I was out of line. I still cringe when I think back. Christ, you’d suffered a miscarriage, and I took my anger and frustration out on you.”

  She shook her head, rose from the table and moved to the counter as if needing the space. “I swore I’d never be that helpless again. I swore I would never need or want anyone as much as I needed you in that moment.” She tipped her head back but that didn’t stem the rush of tears that spilled down her cheeks. “I thought you’d be the one person who might come close to understanding the loss.”

  Needing to touch her, Brody took her hand in his. She jerked away but he stood and moved behind her, putting both hands on her shoulders. Her soft skin didn’t disguise the tension rippling in her muscles. “I am sorry.”

  Her head downcast, she was so still he wondered if his words had registered. “I will not need you.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Yet. “I am not asking anything of you. But I am going to take care of Dayton. And Robbie.”

  Jo glanced up at Brody. Like it or not, she did need him right now. She was smart as a whip but she was too much of a straight shooter to really deal with the likes of Dayton. Whereas he’d take the bastard apart piece by piece, even if it meant using every nasty trick in the book.

  As he stared at Jo, he wanted to kiss her. To taste her. Looking at her made him hard. But he’d never make the first move. Not again. Their past dictated his restraint.

  She didn’t move away either.

  She raised her hand to his, the touch feather soft, exploratory. The sadness had vanished from her gaze and something darker burned in the green depths. Standing, she faced him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and he remembered the subtle gesture—temptation warred with reason.

  He could step back and end this. He didn’t.

  “I never stopped to ask.” Her voice sounded throaty, raspy. “Are you single?”

  Tension rippled through his body. “Very.”

  Bitter amusement lit up her gaze. “I wish you weren’t.”

  “Good excuse to end this?” he challenged.

  “Common sense is telling me to walk away.”

  Her scent wafted around him. Silent, he traced circles on her shoulder with his thumb, knowing if she pulled away he’d not follow.

  Instead, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was light, exploring, even as a frown furrowed her brow. She still searched for an excuse to stop.

  He wasn’t going to give her a reason. If she well and truly wanted him, he wasn’t moving a damn inch.

  She nibbled her bottom lip and lifted a hand to his face, tracing his jawline with her fingertips. “I
can come up with a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea.”

  He traced her cheek with his knuckle. As a kid he’d thought she was pretty enough but now he realized he’d not really taken a hard look. If he had, he’d have seen she was stunning. “I can’t think of one.”

  “We’ve traveled this path before.” She clung to reason like a drowning man did to a raft.

  “Seeing as we aren’t the people we were fourteen years ago, it’s easy enough to argue that we’re on a different trail.”

  “You’re rationalizing.”

  “As fast as I can.”

  She kissed him again, this time her touch more insistent. Unable to resist, he leaned into her, coaxing her lips open with his tongue. A soft moan rumbled in her chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  His right hand dropped to her shoulder and then down her arm. He savored the way she shivered and the way her breath grew a little ragged. At her wrist her pulse thrummed wildly against his fingertips.

  When he’d first touched her all those years ago, she’d shivered. She’d been tantalized and afraid by her reaction to him. He’d been so lost in his own desires that he’d not thought to ask and didn’t realize until later that she’d been a virgin. He’d not realized what she’d given him that night. But he did now. No matter how many men she’d had since they’d split, he’d always be her first, and maybe if he were really damn lucky, her last.

  He kissed her at the nape of her neck, savoring the rapid race of her pulse. He slid his hand up under her loose shirt and cupped her lace-covered breast. Her nipples hardened.

  “God, Brody, you are killing me,” she rasped. “I’m going to explode.”

  He raised his head to search her gaze. “Too fast? You want me to back off?” And God, he would if she asked.

  Laughter bubbled in her chest. “Too slow.”

  A smile hitched the corner of his mouth. “I can fix that right quick. Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Down the hallway. First door on the left.”

  He kissed her lips hard before taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. Details other than the large, neatly made bed escaped him as he backed her toward the mattress, tugging off his jacket as he did and dropping it. She reached for the edges of her top as he unfastened his shirt. Both dropped to the floor in unison, mingling in a puddle on the floor.