by Tessa Teevan
“Trust me, Brie. I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his voice strained as he looks down.
My gaze is drawn down as well, and apparently, his voice isn’t the only thing strained.
“So far from it. But you need to relax, and you need to eat. So, while I cook, close your eyes, soak away the tension of the day, and when you’re ready, I’ll feed you.”
Before I can protest, he flees. It’s my turn to laugh, because he was two seconds away from joining me. I lean my head back and do as he said. Then I close my eyes, listen to the music, and let my worries melt away.
I’m just about to drift off when “Next Breath” by Tank comes on. The words resonate deep within me, and I wonder what Rafe’s trying to say.
And if, at the end of all of this, any of it will even matter.
“Oh my God,” I moan. “This is amazing. Heavenly, even.”
He smirks as I dig into the lasagna that’s been tantalizing my aromatic senses since I left the bathroom. “Glad you like it.”
“Like it? I love it! Seriously, I knew you could cook, but you’ve been holding out on me.”
We continue to tease back and forth, and I’m surprised at how entirely at ease I am with him, even after everything. Then again, Rafe’s always emanated strength and protection. I’ve felt comfortable and safe with him from the very beginning, and no matter how much Adrian tried to mess with my head and ruin that, I refuse to allow him to do so.
After my belly is full, Rafe leads me to the bedroom and tucks us into bed. He flips the television on, and we cuddle up, getting lost in some old action flick. I curl into his chest, enjoying his close proximity. One night sleeping without him was more than enough for me to know I never want to experience that again.
It’s not long before I’m yawning, and my eyes keep fluttering closed every time I start to nod off. But before I fall asleep, I lift up and reposition myself so I’m sitting cross-legged and facing him.
“Rafe, I’ve been thinking,” I say, hoping he doesn’t think I’m a complete nut.
He mutes the television and gives me his undivided attention. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as a nervous expression crosses his face.
I laugh lightly and then kiss his lips. “Stop worrying. I’m not running, I promise.”
I nibble on my lip for a moment then dive in. I relay the dream I had with my mother, and he listens with rapt attention. His hand rubs my thigh in soothing circles.
“What do you think it means?”
With a smile, I glance at him through my lashes. “So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”
His eyes soften. “Of course not. Brie, you almost died. I don’t know if it was a dream or some supernatural visit from your mom on the other side. Maybe it was your subconscious trying to help you uncover something. But whatever it was, I wouldn’t take it lightly.”
I let out a deep breath, so grateful for this man. “I think we should go to Chicago,” I finally propose.
He sits up and shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not getting involved with this.”
“It’s too late for that, Rafe. I already am involved. My parents were killed because this…” I pause and wave my hand around. “Whatever this is, and I may hold the key to unlocking it. At least that’s what Adrian must’ve believed. I don’t know why, and I have no idea what its purpose could be, but we have to find that painting. And the place to start is Chicago.”
He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a deep sigh. “Brie…”
“Rafe,” I murmur, pushing my bottom lip out to give him my best pouty face. “Please? I promise I won’t get in the way of whatever your investigation is, and I’ll be on my best behavior. Just, please. Let me help. Wasn’t that your plan all along anyway?”
His eyes narrow. It was a low blow, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get him to agree. He said he didn’t get close to me on purpose, and I’m allowing myself to believe him on that. It doesn’t mean, however, that I won’t throw it in his face for my own advantage.
And I know it works as soon as I see the resignation on his face.
“I’m going to regret this. But okay. As soon as construction’s done—which should be the next week or so—we’ll go. I’ll make arrangements.”
I pull back. “You’re still working on the house? Even after what happened?”
He nods. “According to everyone else here, I’m Rafe Matthews: General Contractor. I can’t just stop showing up because circumstances changed. That’d raise too much suspicion.” His eyes shift away as if something crossed his mind.
“What? What is it?”
“There’s something else I haven’t told you. Adrian didn’t hire me, Brie. His father did.”
I wrinkle my nose as my eyebrows knit together. “Why? Why would his father have any say in who built the guest home?”
“Theo technically owns the estate Adrian lives on. He didn’t trust the company Adrian had initially hired and called me in. So, if I just stop showing up, he’ll start digging around. I can’t risk that.”
“Makes sense. Does this mean I can still come to work with you?” I ask, hopeful. It probably sounds dumb, wanting to go back to the scene of the crime, but staying alone in the apartment is even more terrifying.
“Baby, we’re both exhausted, and I don’t even want to make a decision like that tonight. Can we discuss it in the morning?”
I nod, and he opens his arms, beckoning me. I don’t hesitate to comply, and as we curl up together and slowly drift off, I pray that his embrace will keep the nightmares at bay.
THE NEXT MORNING, RAFE tries to change my mind about going to the site with him, but in the end, I wear him down. The truth is, as creeped out as I may be to go back there, it’d be worse to be alone. Plus, I plan on staying as far away from the estate as possible.
When we pull up the side construction entrance, I spot the police tape. A chill runs down my spine as we get closer to the guest home. Memories of that night flash through my mind, and I have to shake my head to wipe them away.
Turning to Rafe, I lean back against the window. “Wait a minute. If there’s still police tape and it’s an active investigation, then how are we here? Shouldn’t this be closed off?”
“Theo Morningstar’s money reaches that far, Brie,” he says, a scowl forming on his lips. “There’s a reason Adrian’s face hasn’t been plastered all over the news. He rubs elbows with the mayor of Philadelphia, who asked the chief of police keep everything under wraps until we knew the truth. As far as anyone else is concerned, you were in the backseat. No one—I mean no one—except Howard, the officer who rescued you, and us know you were actually in the trunk.”
I gasp. “Are you serious? That sounds like some sort of dirty cover-up. The agency actually agreed with that?” I ask. This kind of stuff happens in movies and on episodes of Law & Order, but I had no idea it actually happens in real life.
He gives a terse nod. “There’s so much riding on this case, and the last thing the agency wants is for unnecessary attention to be drawn to the Morningstar family. It’s the one thing the agency and Theo have in common—the desperate need to keep Adrian’s antics out of the spotlight.”
“What about the case? What about you?”
“The police have no idea who I am, Brie, or that I work for a government agency. They know nothing of the investigation on Theo Morningstar, and it has to stay that way. At the scene of the accident, I played the part of the freaked-out boyfriend.” He pauses as my eyes narrow. “You know what I mean. I was the grieving boyfriend. You and Howard are the only ones who know who I really am. To everyone else, I’m just a guy who wields a hammer.”
“You are a guy who wields a hammer. And, might I add, you wield it very well,” I tease, leaning over and placing my hand on his hard, muscled thigh. “So well, in fact, I might have to start calling you Thor.”
He barks at a laugh then peers at me, lifting an eyebrow. “Thor? Really? I mean, sure, Brie, you may call out God in the
bedroom, but I draw the line at a mythological Norse god. I’m not even blond.”
I bring my lips to his ear. “I’ll let you call me Jane,” I whisper, my best husky voice on proud display. Much better than the Marilyn disaster. I mean, it’s Natalie Portman. What man wouldn’t fantasize about the brunette bombshell with the perfect beauty mark? Hell, I may even fantasize about her. After all, she got pretty hot and heavy with Mila Kunis. Even as a straight woman, I can admit that it was pretty damn hot. I know that Rafe loved it.
“Earth to Brie.” Rafe’s hand hovers in front of my face. Where’d you just go?”
I blush and nibble on my bottom lip before rolling my eyes and sitting back in the passenger’s seat. “I was just thinking…”
“About?” he asks, giving me an exasperated look.
“Black Swan,” I admit.
His eyes light up, and he laughs again.
“Hey! It’s not my fault! You’ve kept my cooped up in the apartment, and you’re the one who owns seven different Natalie Portman films.” I would know. All we’ve done since I came home from the hospital is lie on his couch and make a dent in going through his movie collection.
Well, mostly all we’ve done.
Thanks to Adrian’s disappearing act, Rafe’s protective side kicked in and he’s barely left my side—except for when I initially told him I needed space. Suffice it to say, it’s amazing to finally get out of the house, even if it means coming back to this place.
He shrugs then lifts a strand of my hair. “What can I say? I have a thing for hot, little brunettes.”
My cheeks are scorching with heat, and I bow my head for a split second before pushing his hand away. The car comes to a stop outside the guesthouse garage, where, again, there’s police tape.
As if he can read my mind, he gives my upper thigh a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure about this? I can turn the car around right now and go back to the apartment. In fact, there’s really not much left I have to do. Let’s just go.”
He goes to move his hand, but I place mine on top of it, stopping him.
“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. You’ll be close. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“You’re sure?” He doesn’t look like he believes me.
“Positive. I wish you’d start believing me the first time I tell you something,” I admonish, teasing though I mean every word.
“I just worry…” he says, trailing off.
“Stop. I’ll be fine, okay?”
He lets out a heavy sigh then nods in agreement. “Okay.”
And the truth is that I am fine. Once the initial heebie-jeebies from being back here dissipate, I settle in at my desk and get busy with work, trying to pretend I was not just drugged and abducted from this place a mere week ago. Instead of dwelling on it, I shift my focus to my future, doing whatever I can to pass the time and keep my mind off what happened the last time I was here.
Over the course of the next week, I spend my days in the Matthews trailer, trying maintain some sort of normalcy. I pass the time by working on billing and scheduling while checking in with another site across the tri-state area to ensure everything’s running smoothly. It’s still unnerving to me that, while Rafe is a secret, undercover agent, he still runs a legitimate business. Sure, he may have inherited it from his father and uses it mostly as a cover, but when I watch him on the construction site, I know he was born for this, no matter how much his parents wanted him to go into the medical field. The more I think about it, it’s the perfect cover. I know Rafe enjoys the construction business more than he lets on, and I wonder if, when all is said and done, he’ll retire from the agency and fully commit to Matthews.
It makes me realize that we haven’t talked about the future, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready. We’re having a baby together, so it’s inevitable, of course, but there’s still so much more to learn about each other. And until we have this whole mess behind us, I’m scared we won’t be able to move forward. Then again, I guess that’s the thing about pregnancies. You don’t always have a say in the timing. You just have to be ready. I hope like hell we will be.
Despite my initial fears, I’m comfortable at the trailer. Rafe orders me to the lock the door every morning when he leaves. He’s the only one with the key, and with the pepper spray he forced into my purse, I feel safe. It doesn’t stop him from checking up on me every hour or so, and it’s driving me crazy.
Our nights are spent in front of the television or at the dining table, scouring the files Adrian had on my father and me. Rafe has others ones from the case against Theo, but I haven’t asked to study them. While I appreciate his honesty with me, I’m not ready to ask him to reveal everything, no matter how curious I may be. It’s unfair to him, and I’m not sure I’m ready to go down that rabbit hole, either. Who knows what I may discover about my father? I’m content staying in blissful ignorance, but as the days go by and there’s no word from Agent Howard or anything on Adrian, the antsier I become.
I still can’t figure it out, and I’m more anxious than ever to get to Chicago. Why the hell did he choose me? Where is Adrian? And even though I shouldn’t care, did he ever honestly love me? I don’t want to think he was lying the entire time. There was something in his expression that final night—desperation and anguish in his voice—that leads me to believe what he was saying. He was trying to protect me. But from what?
Or am I just trying to rationalize his actions? Hell, my actions? Am I trying so hard to believe he was a good man so I don’t feel so damn foolish for having fallen for him?
After about the hundredth time of looking through my file, I toss it onto the coffee table. Something’s missing. There’s some dot I’m not connecting. There are so many pieces of this puzzle in front of me, and I have no idea how or where I fit in. And it can’t be put together because all the pieces aren’t here.
Not to mention the endless questions that have arisen from what Rafe divulged. I get the connection with Adrian’s father and mine, but why me? In fact, why my mother?
What my father was doing was obviously dangerous—it got him killed. But if Rafe’s to be believed—and I believe him with every fiber of my being—it was a necessary evil he knew wasn’t without risk. He was doing what he believed was right, and I refuse to let his death be in vain. But why did they have to take her, too? And after everything Adrian said that day in the car about protecting me, I’m more confused than ever.
Is he truly like his father, as Rafe believes?
Or was I in danger and he was trying to protect me?
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
His voice has been resounding in my mind for days as I rack my brain, trying to uncover what he meant.
“You weren’t supposed to live.”
All logic tells me that he meant the night my parents were killed. I was supposed to be home, but I wasn’t. Why though? What threat could I have posed?
I look across the couch to where Rafe is completely engrossed in my father’s file. He’s wearing reading glasses, which give him a distinguished appearance that is very hot and professor-like. He’s holding the file in one hand, and the other runs absentmindedly over my leg that’s propped up in his lap. His concentration as he nibbles his lower lip is alluring, and I hate to break it.
“Rafe,” I call, but he’s lost in whatever he’s reading. Switching tactics, I stretch out my leg and rub my toes across the soft bulge in his shorts.
Have I ever mentioned how good this man looks in basketball shorts? They were made for him.
His head lifts, and his eyes race to mine. God, those glasses are sexy. He’s like every fantasy rolled into one. Sexy professor. Strong construction worker. Toned, muscular athlete.
“Jesus Christ, Brie. This pregnancy has made you fucking insatiable. You’re wearing me out,” he groans in a teasing fashion as he slides his hand up my bare leg.
I smirk but shake my head and throw my pen at him. “Not that, Thor,” I taunt.
“I just wanted to get your attention.”
He shifts on the couch and sets his file down. Then he gives me his undivided attention. When he starts massaging my foot, it’s my turn to get distracted. That is, until he clears his throat. This time, he’s the one wearing the smirk.
“I know you were in the room that day with Agent Howard, but we’ve never talked about it.” I’ve wondered why he had no questions that night—or any of the days that followed.
He smiles and increases the pressure on my foot. “When we got home from the station, you needed to be fed, and you needed sleep. It was hardly the time to discuss it.” He pauses, shrugging. “I figured you’d talk when you were ready. I didn’t want to push it, especially after you had those nightmares.”
My heart does a tiny flip-flop. This is why, even after everything, he was so easy to forgive. Hell, it wasn’t even a question. He anticipates my every need and meets each one before I even know he’s doing it. He had—and still has—my best interests at heart.
Every night since we returned from the station, he’s held me close until we’ve fallen asleep. There’s a desperation in the way he clings to me, as if he’s afraid to let me go. That I’d actually leave. That couldn’t be further from the truth. So, every night, we hold tight to each other, and it keeps the nightmares away. It doesn’t, however, stop me from seeing bits and pieces of that night at random times during the day.
“I remembered something earlier today while staring at the photocopy of the painting. When Adrian and I first met, we went to the art museum together. In fact, it was on our first date.”
Rafe’s smile turns down. “I hate that you shared this with him. Before me,” he says then runs a hand through his hair. “I know it’s stupid, Brie, but I can’t help it. I hate that he had any part of you and didn’t cherish it. At the same time, I feel like an asshole for being glad he lost you. Because, if he hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t been living with him, I’d have never met you.”
Even though I have the urge to crawl across the couch, straddle him, and kiss his worries away, I stay rooted in my seat. “I may have gone there with him, but I shared the experience with you. I didn’t want to talk to him about my parents, and he didn’t want to hear it. That’s what I was remembering. Seeing the Monets brought tears to my eyes, and instead of him offering any words of comfort or a shoulder to cry on, he cared more about whether or not my parents still had the painting. Why would he ask that unless he was fishing?”