by Sara Davison
“No.” Her breathing had grown shallow and the word came out as a hoarse whisper. Clearly undaunted, he pressed his lips to hers. His hands slid along her jaw, into her hair as he pulled her closer.
Summer tried to think clearly. She still wanted proof that he’d been telling her the truth. And she needed to know that he wasn’t… His kiss grew deeper, more demanding, and she gave in to it with a low groan. His skin smelled of soap and a faint, masculine musk and she couldn’t breathe in enough of it to satisfy her.
After a moment, he lifted his head, his hands still buried deep in her hair, his thumbs massaging the back of her head. “Tell me.”
She closed her eyes. “One more night.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Either taking a bath or slipping into pajamas would be a bad idea after what had transpired in the kitchen. Summer carried a book from the shelf in Nancy’s study into the living room and settled into an armchair. By the time Ryan had finished up in the kitchen and come into the room carrying his laptop bag, the words on the page had grown blurry.
“You look exhausted.” He set the bag on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Why don’t you go to bed? We can take a look at my writing tomorrow.”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to put her off again. She may have been a pushover in the kitchen, but she was absolutely going to stand her ground now. And keep a good three feet between them at all times. And while she may have agreed to him staying in the heat of the moment, if she found out he had lied to her, that agreement would be immediately rendered null and void. She straightened in the chair. “I’m fine. I really want to see it.”
“All right, if you’re sure. But I warn you it’s not exactly scintillating stuff.”
“That’s fine. I’ve had enough scintillating for one evening.”
Ryan pulled the computer out of the bag and opened it up. He typed something into the search engine. “Here you go.”
She held out her hands for the laptop and he handed it to her and stepped back. It was unnerving, how well he could read her, as if he knew instinctively she wanted—needed—space between them. Summer scanned the screen. It was an article written by a Ryan Taylor—no picture, she noted—on the root causes of addiction in teens. He had lied. Not about the writing though but about it not being scintillating. The piece was well-written and fascinating. Hmmm.
Summer handed the laptop back to him.
“Well?”
“It was good, actually. Can I see another one?”
He contemplated her for a moment before slowly turning the laptop around, typing into it again, and handing it back to her.
Summer made him show her five different articles before she was satisfied. Two of them did have his picture in the top corner, which she felt better about. “Thank you for showing those to me.” She pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I think I better get some sleep now.”
“So I passed?”
She blinked. “Passed what?”
“Whatever test you just put me through.” His voice held an edge she hadn’t heard there before.
“I wasn’t testing you. I’m genuinely interested in your work.”
Ryan pressed his lips together as though he’d been about to respond to that with a crude and not entirely inaccurate word, given that they both knew she’d been making him jump through hoops for the last fifteen minutes. He managed to restrain himself and settle for, “Really.”
“Yes, really.” She stood, not enjoying the fact that he was towering over her. Her eyes met his steadily.
Neither of them moved for a long moment, until he closed the laptop with such a loud snap she had to force herself not to jump. The sadness she’d seen in his eyes the night he talked about the woman who had hurt him drifted into them now. “You can trust me, Ana. Don’t you know that by now?”
That look. That look was her kryptonite. She was powerless against it. Only she couldn’t let him know that or he would have the upper hand forever. She lifted her chin. “Of course.” The words came out cooler than she’d intended.
Ryan shoved the computer back into the bag. “You’re right. You should get some sleep.” His words were cool too, and stung her as much as hers had clearly stung him.
Her throat thickened but, not sure how to repair the damage she’d done, she nodded. “Good night, then.”
“Good night.” He stepped out of her path as she walked, on unsteady legs, to the door. She didn’t stop until she had gone into her room and closed the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she closed her eyes, determined not to give in to a sudden urge to throw herself on her bed and weep.
She’d done what she had to do tonight and she couldn’t feel badly about that. Except that she did feel badly. She felt horrible, in fact. Deep down, for reasons she didn’t fully understand, she did believe that she could trust Ryan. Right now, though, with this ongoing threat hanging over her head, that was the problem. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone.
Because that trust could end up costing her everything.
Chapter Fifty
Jude sank down onto the couch. Propping his elbows on his knees, he scrubbed his face with both hands. Are you kidding me? After what had gone on between the two of them when they were doing the dishes last night, and tonight in the kitchen, he’d foolishly allowed himself to think that they had found their way back to each other. That they might actually have a future together. Exactly the type of thing he’d been trying to avoid thinking about.
So what had happened between the kitchen and the living room that had changed everything?
It wasn’t so much that she’d insisted on seeing a sample of his work—he got that she was being careful right now and wanted a little confirmation—but demanding five showed the depth of the lack of trust she was feeling, which hurt. She remembered she had a faith, so the relationship she had with God existed in such a deep place that even a serious head injury hadn’t been able to touch it. Not that he expected their relationship to be on the same level, but wouldn’t what they’d shared together still be there, somewhere inside? He exhaled loudly. Maybe it was. He’d seen flickers of it in her eyes, as though she felt drawn to him without fully comprehending why. Those flickers had given him enough hope to keep trying to reach her.
Jude hadn’t even been lying to her about the pieces, not exactly. He wasn’t a full-time writer, and he hadn’t worked on anything since coming to Elora, but he had written the articles he’d shown her and they had been published various places on-line. Of course, he’d had to go in that afternoon, cut and paste seven or eight of them, and re-post them under the name Ryan Taylor. So, okay, he couldn’t claim that he was being completely forthright with her even now.
Given that, did he have any right to complain when she didn’t fully believe something he’d told her?
He slumped back on the couch. Maybe it was time to tell her who he really was. She’d had more than a month to get to know him again. Even if he had been using a different name, he’d still been himself. And he’d won her back. At least, he’d thought so until twenty minutes ago. They couldn’t go on like this. As he’d told Maddie, Summer might never regain her memory. Was he planning to go through the rest of his life as Ryan Taylor?
If he told her the truth about himself, maybe she would be free to go back to using her real name too. Summer. He loved the sound of her name on his tongue and longed to start calling her that again. And he would give anything to hear her say his name. He would be able to introduce her to his family and let her know that Cash was actually his brother. It would definitely make his life less complicated. If nothing happened between now and then, he was going to come clean in the morning.
Restless, he pushed to his feet and wandered over to the window. Peering out into the blackness, he could make out two vehicles parked at the curb along the street. One, a dark sedan, was stopped a half a block to the east. The other sat a block away in the other direction. Jude couldn’t tell from his vantag
e point if either had anyone in it. Should he go out and stroll by them? Try and figure out if they were the good guys or the bad guys?
Probably not the best idea. They were safer here, in the house. Although likely not at the moment with him standing in front of the window making himself an easy target. He backed away and crossed over to the couch.
Summer was safer with him here. Unless, of course, he started thinking about how they were alone in the house and she was upstairs getting ready for—
Don’t go there, Jude. That was dangerous territory. Besides, he needed to keep his mind clear. God, help me stay focused. Keep my thoughts on what they should be on, not on what they shouldn’t. He was extremely grateful that Summer had allowed him to stay, even if it had taken him exploiting nearly every weakness he knew of hers to get her to agree. Not that it had been any hardship for him. He had such a strong sense that something was about to happen in the next twenty-four hours, he likely would have sat on the front porch all night if she’d kicked him out.
So he appreciated being here. But he did need to keep his mind off the thought of her upstairs in bed, at least until Nancy got home. Which could be an hour or two yet.
Jude grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket and stabbed in a number. It rang twice before a voice came over the line. “Moser.”
“Hey, Rick.”
“Jude. Are you okay?”
He let out a short laugh. “Define okay.”
“What’s going on?”
“Too much to get into at the moment. I wanted to check in, though. Let you know I’ve been working through some stuff. I’ve been spending time with my family.”
“Really. How’s that going?”
“Great. They’ve been amazing.”
“And Summer?”
Jude propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a little more complicated.”
“You want to talk about it?”
A floorboard creaked on the second floor and he tipped back his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Trying to get my mind off her at the moment, actually.”
“Ah. Hence the long-overdue phone call.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. You drinking?”
He blew out a breath. “No.”
“Thinking about it?”
“Not much. Although I have been seriously considering picking up my relationship with cigarettes where we left off.”
“But you haven’t.”
“No.” If nothing gave soon, though…
“Praying?”
“Every single day.”
“Good. That’s the only crutch you need.”
“I know.”
A pause, then, “Anything I can tell the boss man?”
Jude ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than he usually kept it. Getting a haircut hadn’t been on his to-do list the last few weeks. “Nothing definite yet. I have a feeling we might be about to have a breakthrough here, though. I should be able to contact him in the next few days.” If I’m still alive.
Moser, his therapist, colleague, and friend, depending on the need of the moment, sighed. “I’ll try to hold him off a little longer. No promises, though.”
“I don’t expect any. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“I’m always here for you. You know that.”
“I do, thanks.”
“Keep in touch.”
“I will.” Jude disconnected the call and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. Well, that had killed ten minutes. Now what?
He bent forward and tugged his bag out from under the bed. Shoving aside a pile of clothes, he pulled out his Bible. Afraid to stretch out on the couch in case he fell asleep, Jude dropped down on the armchair Summer had vacated and opened the book. He knew the passage he wanted and turned the pages until he’d found Psalm 91. The verses, with their promises of protection, spoke to him more in this moment, when threatening forces hovered all around them, than they ever had, although it was one of his favorite chapters. Jude read the sixteen verses over and over, drawing strength and comfort from the words. God was their refuge and fortress. What could provide more safety and peace of mind than that? And he promised to send his angels to guard them.
Jude leaned his head against the back of the chair. The sense that they weren’t alone, that, whatever happened, God was with them, nearly overwhelmed him. And even if the worst happened and one of them was killed—as much as the thought of anything happening to Summer hurt his heart—he knew where they would go. They would be in the presence of God. And even death couldn’t separate them. Not forever. The peace that drifted through him in the wake of that thought pushed back the hurt of his conversation with Summer and the trepidation he’d been feeling about what could happen to them. She was in God’s hands, not his. And so was he.
Díaz straightened up so quickly behind the wheel that lukewarm coffee splashed out of the hole in the lid of the takeout cup and splattered over his pants. He muttered a curse word and snatched a handful of napkins out of the fast food bag on the seat beside him. Dabbing at the splotches, he bent forward to peer through the windshield.
McCall stood in the front window of the tree-hugger’s place. Could he see him this far down the street? What about the vehicle parked a block up? Díaz had been watching it carefully since it pulled to the curb and stopped. It had been there nearly an hour now and no one had gotten out. Unlikely it was Kendrick, since sitting out in the open was definitely not his method of operation. Probably a couple of kids making out or something, but their presence still made him nervous.
Especially since this was day thirty. As far as he knew, the boss hadn’t made a payment. What that meant for Summer Velásquez, or him, or McCall, he had no idea.
But Díaz had a feeling that sometime in the next few hours they were all about to find out.
Chapter Fifty-One
Summer ran a brush through her hair then tossed it into a basket and pressed a hand to the counter on either side of the sink.
She’d lain awake for hours last night, deeply aware of Ryan sleeping a floor away. Several times she’d thrown back the covers, thinking she would go down and talk to him, try to make amends. Each time she’d stayed in bed, reminding herself how she had felt when he’d kissed her in the kitchen, when he’d touched her, and that sadness in his eyes. All of which made her incredibly weak. And she couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. Not when the person who had attacked her in her home could be here in town.
When she’d heard the front door open around eleven, then the murmur of voices, she’d relaxed a little. Having Nancy in the house lowered the chances that she would lose her resolve and go down to talk to Ryan. That thought had triggered a revelation. Maybe it wasn’t Ryan she couldn’t trust. Maybe it was herself when he was in the room.
What did the man who was after her want? Would he come back? What if Nancy got caught in the crossfire? Or Ryan? Both thoughts terrified her. She had to stay alert so that, if something did happen, she would be the target, not them. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning a truth had struck her, so hard that she had bolted upright in bed. She needed to leave. Being here was putting people she cared about in danger. She had a little money saved from working at the café and she had a car. The best thing for everyone involved would be if she waited until Ryan and Nancy were busy and then sneaked out of the house and took off. She had no idea where she would go, but she’d figured it out the last time. The most important thing was that the people she’d met since coming to town were safe.
Since she couldn’t sleep, she’d gotten up around four in the morning and packed her suitcase, then set it on the floor on the far side of the bed. The thought of leaving Elora without telling either Nancy or Ryan, or having any idea if or when she would see them again, sent pain twisting through her stomach. Still, she didn’t need a pros and cons list to tell her that she had to do this, that she didn’t have a choice.
A quiet knock on her door brought her
head up sharply. Summer pushed away from the bathroom counter and crossed her room to the door. “I’m coming, Nancy. I was just—” She pulled open her door and froze. “Ryan.” The sight of him, his copper hair tousled and his hazel eyes gazing intently into hers, reminded her of the thought that had crossed her mind when he first walked into the café. Movie star man. He’d been that for her. Not only because of his looks, but because he had been so sweet and kind, had made her feel so important to him. A romantic hero with enough flaws to make him real and human. She was truly going to miss him. Summer bit her lip, pushing back a wave of emotion she couldn’t afford to indulge in.
“Sorry to disappoint.” His grin tempered the words. “Nancy did send me up here though, to let you know that breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” He glanced into the room.
Summer pressed a hand to her stomach. Could he see the suitcase? “Okay, thanks. Tell her I’ll be right down.” She started to close the door, but Ryan shot out his arm to stop it.
“I wanted to talk to you anyway.” He brushed past her and into the room. “Apologize for last night.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. You were right. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to show me your work. That crossed a line.” Her stomach tightened. He was edging deeper into the room. Did he suspect something? Hear the guilt in her voice or see it in her eyes? Entirely likely, since he seemed to be able to read her in a way no one else in her life ever had.
She searched her mind for something to say that would get him to leave. “Anyway, please tell Nancy I’ll be right down. As soon as I get dressed.”
His gaze traveled the length of her. She’d already tugged on a pair of jeans and a pale yellow button-up shirt so she could pack her pajamas. “I mean, get changed. I think I might need something a little warmer for—”