by Anna Blakely
“You, in the leather jacket. Turn around slowly. And don’t make any sudden moves.”
Well, this is going to be fun.
Since getting shot wasn’t on his list of things to do today, Mike followed the man’s orders. Before him stood two uniformed officers, both pointing their guns in Mike and Juliet’s direction.
“Officers, I understand why you drew your weapons, but I’m not the bad guy here. That would be him.” Mike motioned to the dead guy lying a few feet away. “You know, the one wearing the ski mask and gloves.”
“It’s true.” Juliet jumped to his defense. Pointing toward the intruder, she said, “H-he broke in here. He’s the one who tried to kill me. I-I shot him in self-defense, but he was still alive. If Jay hadn’t showed up when he did...”
“I take it you’re Jay?” The officer in charge looked at him expectantly.
Damn it. “That’s me.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Dorrell”—he spoke to the other officer—“pat them both down, and then take Miss...”
“Farrow,” Mike and Juliet offered in unison.
“Right. Then take Miss Farrow into the other room and get her statement.”
“Separate them.” Officer Dorrell nodded. “Good idea.”
A very, very good idea.
He didn’t need Juliet overhearing that particular conversation. It was going to be hard enough to explain why the I.D. in his pocket said a different name than the one he’d just given the officers.
Officer Dorrell proceeded to pat them down, first Mike and then Juliet. When he was finished, he escorted a visibly shaken Juliet into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them for privacy.
“Okay, Mr. Reynolds. Let’s see some I.D.”
Here we go.
Keeping his voice low, Mike admitted, “My name isn’t actually Jay Reynolds.”
“Excuse me?”
As quickly and quietly as he could, Mike went through a short version of why he’d used that name. Smudging the lines between fact and fiction, he made it sound as if he were still working undercover for Juliet’s protection. Then he went through the night’s events starting with hearing the first gunshot.
After getting permission from the officer, he pulled out his real I.D., as well as the card Benjamin Lopez had given him in case he’d ever found himself in a sticky situation.
Pretty sure this qualifies and then some.
“The CIA?” The other man rose a skeptical brow.
“Look, Officer...” Mike glanced at the shiny name badge on the front of the man’s uniform. “Lane. I know how all this sounds, but it’s the truth. Just...call the number. And if that doesn’t convince you, call this one.” Mike pulled out another card. The one with the letters R.I.S.C. embossed on the front. “Ask for Jake McQueen.”
Officer Lane’s face oozed with doubt. “You know Jake McQueen?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Who hasn’t?”
Thank fuck. “Good. Then that makes this even easier.”
“Yeah?” Lane stared back at him. “Why is that?”
Mike smiled. “Because Jake McQueen is my brother-in-law. And my boss, although we grew up together, so it’s still feels weird to call him that. Actually, I’m still not used to the whole brother-in-law title, either so—”
“Fine,” Lane cut him off. “I’ll make the call. But you stand right there and don’t try anything funny.”
Raising his hands palms-up, he assured the other man, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
While he waited for Officer Lane to make the calls and verify his story—because yeah...even to him, that shit sounded crazy.
Mike glanced behind the other man and into Juliet’s bedroom. Standing with her arms crossed in front of her, she was still talking with the other officer.
A nod here. A spoken word, there. And through it all, every so often, her gaze would shift in his direction. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking.
“Yes, sir.” Officer Lane’s voice snapped him back to attention. “I will. Thank you, Mr. McQueen. I appreciate it.”
Mike watched him carefully as he ended his second call and pocketed his phone. “Well?”
“Well.” The other man exhaled loudly. “Looks like you were telling the truth.”
He raised a brow. “So what now?”
“Now I wait for my Captain to call to tell me how he wants me to proceed with this mess.”
This made Mike smile. “Jake knows your boss?”
“It appears so, yes.”
Of course, he does. Lucky for Mike, his brother-in-law seemed to know everyone these days.
Right on cue, Lane’s phone began to ring. He was half-way through his conversation with whom Mike assumed was the guy’s boss when Officer Dorrell started to come back outside. Thankfully, Lane gestured for him to wait, and he and Juliet went back into her bedroom.
Even from where he stood, Mike could see the confusion and worry crossing over her gorgeous face. With a wink and a grin, he did his best to assure her everything was going to be fine.
“Okay.” Lane ended his third call of the evening. “Everything checks out.”
“So, we’re good?”
“We are.” The man glanced down at the body lying behind Mike. “He’s not.”
“Listen, about the whole name thing...”
“Don’t worry. Your cover will remain secure.”
“Thanks, man.” Mike held out his hand. “I appreciate it.”
Returning the gesture, Officer Lane shot a quick glance over his shoulder then back to him. “She really Alexandar Volkov’s daughter?”
Mike nodded. “Unfortunately for her, yeah. She is.”
“Damn. Talk about a screwed-up family.”
He let his grip tighten around the man’s hand. “She’s nothing like her father.”
Lane pulled his hand free. With a shared look of understanding, he motioned for Officer Dorrell to rejoin them outside.
“Everything okay out here?” the younger officer asked.
“Hunky dory.” Mike smirked. “Well, the dead guy probably wouldn’t agree.”
Juliet approached him with trepidation. Hugging herself again, she brought her eyes to his. “So what happens, now?”
“Now, we wait for the medical examiner and the forensics team to get here.”
Hours later, both had come and gone. Juliet had been taken into the privacy of her bathroom and was picked over by a female forensic specialist. Once pictures had been taken and her clothes and other evidence from her person had been collected, she’d been given the go-ahead to shower.
For that, Mike was thankful, but there was still the issue of Juliet’s entire home being marked off as a crime scene. That meant she could no longer stay there.
“Where am I supposed to go?” Juliet looked at the detective, who’d arrived shortly after they’d both given their initial statements.
Mike rested his hand on her lower back, the damp tips of her long, black hair brushing against his fingers. “You can stay with me.”
“You live here, Mr...Reynolds?” Detective Morales gave him a knowing stare.
Okay, so he’s been filled in on the situation and is playing along. Thank you, Jake.
“Dallas,” Mike answered truthfully.
Surprise filled Juliet’s blue eyes.
“Unfortunately, that won’t work for us,” Morales commented. When Mike opened his mouth to argue, the man said, “I understand it’s a lot to ask, but we’ll need you both to remain in the city of Houston until the medical examiner has completed the autopsy. As long everything else checks out there, you’ll be free to leave. Until then, you’ll both need to stay in town.”
Juliet shook her head. “But—”
“It’s okay.” Mike smiled down at her. “We’ll get a hotel room for the night. Surely, the medical examiner will be finished sometime tomorrow.”
He could probably press the issue, given his connection with
Jake and the CIA, but he needed these guys on their side.
The detective’s expression was unreadable, but he gave Mike a slight nod. “I’ve already told Dr. Kidwell to push this case to the top of her list.”
“Appreciate that.”
Juliet’s eyes bounced back and forth between his and the other man’s. “Am I missing something?”
“Nah, baby. He just understands that you’re the victim, here. This is obviously a clear-cut case of self-defense, and the Houston Police Department cares about its citizens. They want to ensure you’re not inconvenienced any more than is absolutely necessary. Isn’t that right, Detective?”
Putting his notepad and pen in his blazer’s inner pocket, Morales cleared his throat. “That’s correct. You’ve been through enough, Miss Farrow. We’ll do everything we can to help you put this horrible event behind you as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you.” Juliet shook the man’s hand.
“I’m assuming she’s free to pack a bag and her necessities for the hotel?”
“Of course. My people have looked around, and it’s obvious this was where the intruder entered Miss Farrow’s residence.”
The scratches on the French door’s outer lock were a dead giveaway.
“Thanks again, Detective.” Mike also shared a handshake with the guy.
“Mr. Reynolds.”
Mike followed Juliet into her bedroom and helped her gather some things to get her through the night and the following day. She was acting a little strange, but given everything she’d been through, it wasn’t a huge shock.
“Is this everything?” He zipped the small suitcase closed.
Biting her bottom lip, “Almost.”
When she didn’t make a move to grab anything else, Mike got a funny feeling in his gut. “What is it?”
Her gaze slid behind him to the activity still taking place on her veranda. “I have other guns,” she whispered. “And knives.”
“Okay...”
“They’re hidden around the townhouse.”
“Oh.” Ignoring, for the moment, the fact that she’d felt the need to hide weapons around her home, Mike thought for a moment. “Well, the knives certainly aren’t an issue. And this is Texas. Owning multiple guns isn’t illegal.” Most would say it was encouraged.
With an even more hushed tone, she gave him a hardened stare. “What if the guns weren’t bought...legally?”
“If they weren’t...” Mike swung his head around and looked outside. Morales was speaking to Officer Lane, and neither man was paying them any attention. He slid his gaze back to Juliet. “What the hell do you mean they weren’t bought legally?”
“I mean, I bought them from a less than savory individual. You know, the kind that doesn’t ask for I.D.”
The smartass comment, along with the look she was giving him, made Mike want to turn her over his knee and smack her perky ass pink.
“Christ, Jules.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “Those guns could be connected to other crimes. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I needed to protect myself in case someone from my dad’s past decided to take their revenge out on me.” She glanced over his shoulder, her eyes filling with a sadness that broke his heart. “Turns out it wasn’t his enemies I needed to worry about.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and some of the wet strands stuck to the sides of her neck. “Look, I just need to know what I should do. I mean, are they going to do a thorough search of this place, or...”
“They might.”
“Shit.”
That feeling from earlier became even more unsettling. Though their time together prior to today had pretty much been a whirlwind romance, they’d gotten to know each other well. The important parts, anyway. And even when he had her thinking he was there for her protection, he’d never seen her this antsy.
“What’s going on, Jules?”
“What’s going on is I need you to help me get those guns out of here without any of them noticing.” She tipped her chin toward the men and women outside.
Mike ran a hand over his jaw. “Tell me where they are.”
The relief flooding her beautiful face gutted him. “There’s one taped beneath the sink in the bathroom in the hallway, and the one downstairs. There’s also one taped beneath the coffee table in the living room, and there’s a shotgun behind the bookshelf there.”
Holy shit. “Okay.” He thought for a moment. “Shotgun’s gonna have to stay, but I can get the others.”
“What should I do?”
Mike pointed to the people outside. “Keep them busy.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Ask them some questions. But nothing that will make it look like you’re fishing.”
“Gee, thanks.” She rolled her baby blues. “That helps a lot.”
His dick twitched behind his zipper, because her sassy side had always turned him on. “Just make conversation, Jules. Ask if there’s anything else they need from you before you leave. Look at the body, and, I don’t know...try to conjure up some tears or something.”
“You want me to cry?”
“Why not? They’ll want to offer you sympathy, which will draw out the conversation.” Resting his palm against her cheek, he offered her a small smile. “I’ll meet you back up here. And don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”
Procuring the weapons was easier than he’d first thought, since the only other officers left on the premises were the two standing guard outside the front door. Mike even managed to slide the shotgun even further behind the bookshelf, toward the middle where it was virtually out of sight.
The question of why the hell she’d hidden weapons all over the fucking place kept running through his head, along with the fact that she’d bought them from some back-alley arms dealer.
Mike expected that sort of behavior from her brothers or her father. But the Juliet he knew would never have pulled such a dangerous stunt.
Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought you did.
No. This was his Jules. If she bought the guns the way she claimed, there had to be a good reason.
Not yours, anymore. Remember?
“Shut the fuck up.”
Great. It was bad enough the tiny voice in his head was right. Now he was talking back to it, too.
Mentally cursing himself all the way up the stairs, Mike found Juliet exactly where he’d told her to be...outside her bedroom, talking with the man in charge.
Swiping a tear from her cheek, she caught his eye as he walked through the open door.
“Did you get everything packed?”
Juliet nodded. “I’m ready whenever you are.” She then offered Detective Morales a slight smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Morales shook her hand once more. “Oh, one more thing. When we spoke privately before, you told me the deceased man didn’t say anything to you during your struggle. Are you absolutely sure about that? I mean, he didn’t give you any indication as to why he broke in or was trying to kill you?”
“No.” Juliet shook her head. “Like I said, he didn’t say a word to me.”
The delicate muscles beneath Juliet’s left eye twitched slightly. An indiscernible movement to most, but Mike caught it. Between that and his having heard the bastard saying something to her when he’d first arrived, he knew...
She’s lying.
“Okay.” Morales bought her story. “Unfortunately, the world is full of sick people who do things for no reason other than they can.” He shook her hand once more. “I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Farrow. And...I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“Thanks.”
“Mr. Reynolds.” The man held out his hand for Mike, as well.
“Detective.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
I’m sure you will be. “Looking forward to it.”
After a half-second stare down, the two men parted ways and Mike and
Juliet went back inside. Grabbing her suitcase and toiletry bag as they walked past her bed, he escorted her to his truck.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Lydia!”
“Who’s Lydia?”
“My cat. I can’t believe I almost forgot her.”
He hadn’t noticed a cat the entire time he’d been there. Damn thing must’ve been hiding when he’d gone looking for the guns.
“We can’t take a cat to the hotel, Jules.”
Her shoulders fell. “Crap. You’re right. But she’ll be okay overnight, right?”
Before he thought about what he was doing, Mike reached over and rested his hand over hers. “She’ll be fine.”
Juliet stared at their joined hands for several second before nodding. “Okay.”
With a quick text to Derek, Mike requested the former SEAL bypass the traditional reservation route and secure him a room under the name Jay Reynolds. With a promise to explain later, he then sent a text to Jake thanking him for covering his ass with the local cops. He also promised to call when it was safe to talk.
Minus a few dings on his phone from Derek’s incoming texts, the ride to the hotel was damn near silent. Not that Mike was complaining. They both needed a minute to process everything that had happened.
By the time they checked in and got to their room, Juliet was wound tighter than he’d ever seen her before. After securing the locks on the thick, wooden door, Mike was setting their bags down when she spoke from behind him.
In a small, frighteningly calm voice he heard, “It’s been almost two years, Jay. Where the hell have you been?”
Turning to face her, Mike found Juliet standing in the middle of the room, her hands fidgeting at her sides. Taking a few steps toward her, he locked his eyes with hers and said, “We need to talk.”
Chapter 4
Juliet sat at the small, rectangular table picking at the crust on her slice of pizza. After saying they needed to talk—and boy, did they ever—Jay had started to say something, but then changed his mind and decided he should shower and change, first.