by Jayne Rylon
“Sure,” was all she could manage before her lids grew heavy and she snuggled into the fluffy covers.
“If you need anything, we’ll be right downstairs.” Matt leaned over and kissed her forehead. He whispered in her ear, “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay. We’ll fix the rest. I promise. I won’t disappoint any of us again.”
“Whatever he said.” Clint approached her, then brushed his lips against her knuckles. “Me too. Because I like it when you smile like that. I missed it. I thought what we did tonight would make you happy. I’m sorry we screwed that up too.”
She might have responded if he hadn’t pressed his fingertips against her mouth, then retreated slowly. “We’ve got your back. Never doubt that.”
Chapter Seven
The soft orange glow of dawn limned the horizon. Birds sang in harmonic chirps as if everything in the world were as perfect as a new day in the suburbs. Jambrea hadn’t meant to sleep all night, but the painkillers Lacey had administered worked their magic. Next thing she knew, she’d staggered down the stairs of Lacey’s pretty house to find the guys still going strong on fact-finding in the living room while their women supported them—cooking breakfast, taking notes or keeping them company as they dozed nearby.
Matt had paced the hardwood floor, his shoulders tense as he tipped his head side to side until his neck cracked. The moment Clint spotted her, he’d raced to her and wrapped her in a hug. Brain fuzzy, she hadn’t fought him. And soon after, her friends had fed her, helped her shower and dress, then prepared to send the three of them off.
She figured it was for the best, to keep everyone else isolated from their trouble. It didn’t seem like any major ah-ha moments had cropped up during the darkest hours of the night. Putting some distance between the three of them and the rest of the Men in Blue would be wise for the whole group.
So here they stood, in the driveway of Lacey, Mason and Tyler’s home, hugging out their farewells.
“If things get too intense, you can always come stay with Jeremy and me.” Lily put her arms tentatively around Jambrea. Her friend swallowed hard. “If you’re still comfortable at our place…”
Jambrea didn’t hesitate in squeezing back. Her reputation as cool-headed and forgiving had been rightfully earned. It was hard to stay angry when she knew the other woman had acted with positive intent. “It’s all good, Lily. We’re okay.”
“Thank you. I’m not used to having a best friend, you know. I promise I’ll get better at it.” The tiny lady with huge personality smiled and snuggled into the crook between her husband’s chest and his arm, which curled protectively around her shoulder, in a rare display of vulnerability.
That Lily could allow glimpses like that to her new family awed Jambrea. It wasn’t so long ago that the tough-as-nails Mistress had shocked everyone in the hospital Jambrea worked at when she recounted years of abuse at the hands of her father without so much as a crack in her façade. Hell, she’d planted herself deep undercover and worked tirelessly to free sex-slaves without her enemies ever catching on. That poker face didn’t exist around their group of allies anymore. Hopefully it never would again.
So much had changed so quickly. Once Lily and Jeremy had found each other, allowing their love to blossom, a million other possibilities opened up. They were strong for each other, both of them growing into something new together.
She glanced between Matt and Clint, who kept an awkward distance between them, not quite meeting the other’s gaze, never mind hers. Was there any hope things could be different someday?
“Time to move. No one should be out in the open longer than necessary.” Mason ushered the rest of the Men in Blue onto his porch and through the front door even as Clint boosted Jambrea into the cab of Matt’s truck. Medication kept her zen enough that blinking her eyes open was a struggle. As the informal head of their group, Mason sent them off as he hovered over the threshold. “We’ll keep mining the databanks.”
“I can check with military info bases too.” Lucas spoke from halfway up the stairs, slower than the rest in retreating, seeing as he refused all help. Jambrea worried that his limp seemed more pronounced than when she’d observed him struggling through the wedding. She’d have to follow up with his doctors on her next shift. “I still have contacts that will help in a bind. Plenty of favors to call in. You never know if these dirtbags are local or federal criminals. Hell, international, even. They could trip flags in any number of systems.”
“JRad is usually pretty good at poking around across the board.” Clint shrugged as he levered himself in gracefully beside her then continued their discussion through the open window. “But we won’t turn down any help at this point. We really have nothing. There weren’t any particular standouts on the list. Not that it couldn’t be someone from the Sex Offender ring who’s bitter about being locked up and working from the inside. I just…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. Why Jambi? Or us? To get back at JRad, it seems like they’d target Lily or vice versa.”
“And no one could mistake me for her.” Jambrea snorted. Size-wise, she easily counted for three of the petite Mistress.
“No, you’re much more beautiful,” Matt murmured from beside her. “Feminine. Soft. Wild.”
Before she could tell him to knock it off with the false compliments—since they wouldn’t save him from her wrath at being lied to and fucked, once she got around to unleashing it—Mason thumped on the front door with his fist.
“It doesn’t make sense to me either.” He waved them off. “Go. Get her essentials. Quickly. Then move out. Maybe you should try bunking in a hotel instead of one of your places. Let’s keep communication minimal and untraceable so they don’t figure out where you’re stationed. You know how to reach us if you need backup, but I think it might be better to lay low than to attract attention at this point. If we spread out, we’ll have a better idea of who they’re after. Check in three times a day from someone else’s phone or a public computer away from your headquarters. The Chief gave us as long as it takes…”
“Got it.” Matt nodded his agreement with the plan. It seemed overly cautious to Jambrea, but this was their wheelhouse. The Men in Blue were damn fine at it too. And if it seemed like Mason was hinting at something more, well, she couldn’t deal with that right now.
“I’m trusting my gut on this one. I’ll ride behind you. Recon the parking lot of her place while you’re inside.” Lucas reversed his trajectory and hobbled to his car without complaint, though his leg had to hurt a million times more than what amounted to a fancy scratch on her arm. She wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Jambrea spied Ellie peeking from behind the curtain, frowning as the injured man left her without so much as a goodbye. When she caught Jambrea’s stare, she blew a kiss, then disappeared into the house, which overflowed with friends.
Mason held his hand up in farewell before joining the others.
Then they were backing down the gravel driveway, the ruts in the road lulling her with the sway they caused when paired with the springs of the bench seat. A particularly large bump sent her careening into Clint’s side. She didn’t have the energy to extricate herself from his careful grasp. Instead, she laid her head on his broad shoulder and tried not to remember what it had been like to have him inside her yet be robbed of the memory of his expressions while they shared something so precious. Or what should have been.
Thieves. They’d stolen intimacy from her by keeping her blind.
Sure, she’d checked that box on Lily’s survey, but it seemed like they’d gamed the system, making her the loser.
Jambrea dozed on the ride to her apartment. That might have been because of the chemicals lingering in her cells or maybe because she wasn’t ready to hash things out just yet. In any case, she shouldn’t have worried, because the guys were on red alert, focused on transporting her unharmed as if she were precious cargo instead of some girl they’d pity-banged.
Because what other reason would they have had for hidin
g their identity? They could have shown themselves then blindfolded her. The point was sensory deprivation, not hoodwinking.
Drained, she floated in and out of consciousness. Each time her eyelids fluttered open, she caught the cops scanning the horizon or the truck’s mirrors for any sign of danger. As she expected, there were none.
“Wild thing, wake up.” Clint shook her gently, careful not to aggravate her arm. “We’re here.”
She wished more than anything she could scramble up the metal stairs and into her den. Crappy and old as it might be, it was home…at least for a little bit longer. Instead, she drafted a mental checklist of all the things she’d need to gather.
“How long should I plan on this taking? You know, the investigation.” She tilted her head, but didn’t argue when Clint slid from the truck and held out his arms. Being carried sounded nice at the moment. Might as well make good use of the convenient excuse letting her give in to unwise urges.
“Why not stay a while? Permanently, maybe, if we can keep from killing each other?” Clint smiled at her, a little wistful. His adorable factor shot off the charts when he winked. “A guy can hope, right?”
“Clint and I have always kicked around the idea of getting a place together. Save on rent. It’s not like we spend much time apart anyway. Even on days off, we end up hitting the gym or grabbing something to eat and stuff.” Matt shrugged. “It could be a nice arrangement.”
Jambrea allowed herself a moment of weakness. She inhaled the scent of Clint’s skin, sadly covered by a borrowed T-shirt. Still, he smelled nice—a little sweat mixed with his soap.
When she considered how he’d exerted himself, she shivered. Then she laughed. “You guys hid from me when we fucked and now you’re talking about sharing an apartment. Come on. That’s a little much, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, don’t rush.” Clint glared at Matt. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do. Explaining. Listening.”
“I hate that shit,” the bigger man grumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair.
“Well, you’re going to have to learn to communicate better if you want this to work out,” Clint snapped. Tension crept into the muscles cradling her. When his hand tightened a little close to her bandages, Jambrea couldn’t help but whimper. At least she tried to convince herself it was the physical discomfort—not the reminder of the emotional sensitivity plaguing her—that ached so badly.
“Am I hurting you?” He shifted his fingers away from her wound. Of course that meant he only inflamed the rest of her more.
“Not at all.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck as they rushed to her door. Maybe being carried caused the world bounce more. She didn’t remember the stairway swaying so much when she ascended. Then again, all three of them made a much heavier load than her alone. It was only because of Clint’s dedication to the gym that she didn’t doubt him capable of lifting her in the first place.
Matt had all the bulk of a refrigerator.
And damn it had felt fine beneath her. A sigh buffeted Clint’s neck.
“Almost there, wild thing. We’ll be quick then we can call it a day.” He promised her heaven. If only they were all sleeping together, she might get some rest.
Matt flicked a hand signal at the non-descript sedan parked in the lot below them, at enough of an angle to allow its driver, Lucas, to keep an eye on her door. Two seconds later, he’d unlocked it and let them in.
“Where’d you get my keys from?” she wondered aloud, realizing she’d abandoned her set with her purse in Lily’s office.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Remember the night Mason and Tyler broke your door down? Because the three of us were…busy.”
“You mean the night we sucked face, before you two got all messed up and acted strange around me? Well, even more weird than you were when you were fighting over me?” She shoved Clint, glad when he set her down gently.
“Yeah.” Matt grimaced. “Well, when it got fixed, the contractor gave us a copy. I guess he thought it was our place too since we picked up the bill for the installation. I meant to give it to you and forgot. Then I kind of liked having it on my key ring. Sorry, that sounds creepy when I say it out loud.”
Jambrea scrubbed her hands over her face. What the hell had been going on all this time? She’d thought they didn’t want her enough to risk messing up their friendship when both had actually been interested. Had she gotten it wrong for so long?
And how would they make things work now that she suspected they were running as scared as she had been? From her…and each other.
“It does sound a little sketchy, uh huh.” She dropped her evil eye act. It warmed her to know they’d looked out for her. Hell, the door they’d paid to replace, insisting it’d been their fault the original had gotten broken, had been at least ten times as secure as the old one. “But I guess I don’t mind. I trust you guys. Or at least I did before last night.”
“Shit.” Clint cursed. Then he looked beyond her and did a double take. “Going somewhere?”
She followed his gaze to the stacks of white cardboard boxes she’d begun packing her belongings in. “Actually, yeah. Handy now, but I’d decided to move. I’ve outgrown this place and there’s…nothing…holding me here anymore.”
“There was before?” Matt caught on to her hesitation.
“Maybe.” She walked past before he could ask what, or who, she’d been waiting for. She knew it was stupid, but some part of her had worried that if she left John wouldn’t know where to find her when he came back. From wherever he’d gone.
Stupid.
For two reasons, really. First, because any super spy would be able to track her in half a second or less, even if she moved to the opposite side of the world. Also because he obviously had meant it when he said he never planned to see her again.
“Where were you going?” Clint looked at her with one brow raised.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t found the right place yet.” She shrugged.
“This never did seem to suit you.” Matt pivoted to face her. “It’s not bright or cheery or open or cozy. It’s too sterile.”
“It was my first home I had on my own. All I could afford. Felt like a castle back then.” She smiled, remembering how proud she’d been of her achievements.
How could she have let herself get stuck in a rut? If she wasn’t careful, these guys could suck her into another one. Maybe a habit so tempting, she could never claw her way free. Before that happened, she had to make sure they could give her what she needed.
No more settling.
No more sacrifice.
She prevented the partners from digging deeper than she was ready to venture at the moment by pointing them to a stack of boxes. “Most everything I need is in these. Clothes, extra supplies for Parker. Shove aside the ones with memorabilia and we can take the rest. I’ll go pack some toiletries and transfer Parker to his travel bowl. Ten minutes tops, I swear.”
Matt wandered to her heap of cartons. While she piled them, she’d heaved and grunted more than she cared to admit. As if it were nothing, he bent and gripped the handles on the bottom of the stack. Her jaw fell open a little when he bent his knees and picked up five containers at once. “There’s plenty of room in the truck. Why not bring them all? I’ll run these down while you and Clint get the rest of your stuff. Let’s not waste time sorting through them now.”
“Showoff,” Clint grumbled beneath his breath.
Jambrea couldn’t help herself—she laughed. It felt so good to see them bicker like she was used to. Never did that back and forth amount to more than friendly competition between them. They always recovered their balance, reclaiming their camaraderie.
Another thing that worried her. She never wanted to come between them when they were so obviously a pair. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
Thank God for Lily and her insight.
But if the Mistress had been right about that, could she also have been correct to toss
Jambrea in the mix? Even in the sneaky way she had?
Biting her lip as she tossed toothpaste, shampoo and other necessities into a bag, she was surprised when Clint came up behind her. “It’s going to be okay, Jambi. We’ll find out who wanted to hurt us and make sure they can’t ever again. I’m only sorry you got caught in the crossfire. Another mistake I’ll never be able to forget we made with you.”
She turned, surprised when his arms caged her against the sink. Blinking into his bright green eyes, the honesty there stole her breath, giving him a chance to continue.
“If you’d gotten hurt. Worse…I’d never have forgiven myself.” He leaned his forehead on hers.
She couldn’t help but splay her fingers on his chest, soaking in the warmth and strength of his pecs, kneading them a little. “It’s all right. We’re okay.”
“Not yet. But we will be.” He shuffled closer until his feet were bracketing hers and his body pressed against her full-length. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her loosely. They both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Couldn’t escape the attraction between them. Especially when he whispered, “I promise I’m going to make this right. I’ll bring him around. I know what I want and I won’t let it slip through my fingers. Last night showed me what I could be missing. And how quickly everything can be stolen.”
Her heart melted when he nuzzled her nose with his. Then he kissed her.
If she hadn’t been shaky before, she would have dropped to the peeling linoleum floor when he stole every last bit of her spine, leaving her a mass of rubbery nerves and blubbering sentiment.
She could have kissed him—soft, vital and devoted—for hours.
Except Matt broke up their party.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat roughly. Rather than fuming, he looked away. The glimpse of hurt in his eyes affected her more profoundly than if he’d been jealous or angry at their dillydallying. “We should head out. Lucas thought he saw someone hanging around downstairs. Not the old lady with the thirteen cats, either.”