“Wow,” she said. “You went and got me clothes? Thanks, Franklin. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice still strained. She sounded so sweet and so earnest, it only drove the desire in me up a notch. “Get changed. We have a lot to talk about.”
When she shut the door behind her, I finally let the breath out of my lungs. What the hell was I going to do now?
Chapter Six
Rosie
After I changed into the little orange shorts and t-shirt Franklin had bought for me, I held my hand over the doorknob and took a deep breath. I’d seen the way he’d looked at me when I’d walked out in my towel. Desire had swirled in his dark eyes, sparking goosebumps across my skin. He’d even glanced away, his voice gruff when he spoke.
And despite myself, I’d kind of liked the reaction I’d caused. He was a good looking guy. I wouldn’t call him handsome. Something else. Something much more rugged and rough than that. Sexy. That’s what he was. My heart beat faster as I finally cracked open the door and peered outside. He was pacing the floor, his hands jammed into his short sandy hair.
He glanced up when I stepped out of the bathroom, and my feet sunk into the thick carpet. His eyes dropped down to my legs where the small shorts barely covered my thighs. My cheeks flushed as I moved closer to him, my lungs barely daring to breathe. When I reached him, my hand itched to reach out and place my hand against the hard planes of his stomach. I knew underneath his shirt he’d have abs that would rival Ryan Gosling’s.
“We need to talk, Rosie,” he said, stepping back quickly and dashing away whatever tension had been sparking between us. “Why are you in the witness protection program?”
Shock flared up inside me, followed quickly by anger. Fear clenched my heart. I balled my hands into fists and backed up, trying to put distance between us. “How the hell do you know about that? Who are you? Have you been following me?”
I began to rush to the door, but Franklin stepped into my path, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down. I’m no one. I haven’t been following you.”
“How do you know then? You said you were just passing through. If that’s true, then how the hell do you know?”
“The guy at the gas station mentioned it,” Franklin said slowly, his hands still raised before him in peace. “Said you left three months ago.”
“You asked about me? Dammit, Franklin.” Tears welled up in my eyes as a new fear clutched my heart. “Scooter will hear about this. Any time I do anything in this stupid town, Scooter finds out.”
He sighed and shoved his hands into his hair. “Please don’t cry. I’m not trying to upset you. I just want to know the score here.”
I nodded, sighing hard. That was fair. He’d gone out of his way to help me, put himself in harm’s way, and I owed it to him to tell him the truth. It was the least I could do to thank him for getting me away from Scooter. I just wished he hadn’t gone around asking about me. He should have talked to me first.
“Scooter and I got married fresh out of high school,” I began, sinking onto the end of the bed as I took a deep breath. “We’d dated all through junior and senior year, and we thought we were the real thing. What a moron I was. Anyway, I wanted to go to college, but Owen came along first, and Scooter said I had to be the one to stay home and take care of him. Because he didn’t want to.”
Tears blurred my eyes as I thought of that year I took care of my son while Scooter came home drunk every night. Those days were some of the best and worst I’d ever had. Best because it was the first year I’d ever had with my precious son. Worst because Scooter turned into the man he swore he never would. Franklin waited patiently for me to catch my breath again, for me to find the words to move forward with my story.
“We got divorced a year after Owen was born. Scooter was a drunk, and he got involved in some real shit. Drugs,” I said shakily. “Eventually, he started dealing, right out of our house. I had to get me and Owen out of there.”
Franklin nodded, still listening.
“Anyway, I moved back in with my mom, and she took care of Owen while I worked toward my degree at UT.” I smiled through my watery eyes. “She was so good to both of us, but I see now I was selfish for going to college while my mom spent more time with Owen than I did…”
Franklin cleared his throat, and I realized I’d fallen silent. I’d gotten sidetracked, thoughts of Owen filling my mind.
“After awhile, Scooter’s business turned out to be more widespread than I thought. He started out dealing from our house, but it became so much more than that. He built up a crazy network of people in all the surrounding towns, and he was—and still is—in charge of it all.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “He’s running drugs, he’s laundering money, he’s stealing from stores, and he’s assaulting anyone who doesn’t pay when they are told to pay.”
“It sounds like he’s running his own little mini-mob out here,” Franklin said quietly, his hands steepled under his chin.
“Basically,” I said with a nod. “Everybody around here knows he does it, but the cops have never been able to prove anything. Anyone he has threatened is too scared to come forward about it.”
“Let me guess,” Franklin said. “That’s where you come in.”
I gave a nod, my heart beginning to race when I remembered exactly what I’d signed up for. “That’s where I come in. I’ve heard a lot and seen a lot. We got joint custody of Owen when we divorced, so I had to spend some time around Scooter, unfortunately. Though, luckily, not too much. He doesn’t seem to care much about being a father.”
“They talked you into being a witness.”
“I went to the cops and told them everything I knew about Scooter. I wanted him behind bars and away from my son.” I scowled. “The FBI took up the case, and I agreed to be a witness once they finally bring him in…but they haven’t moved against him yet. It’s taking too damn long though. Scooter just keeps on going about his business like he hasn’t got a goddamn care in the world. I wish they’d hurry up.”
“So, Scooter knows you went to the cops,” Franklin said, raising his eyebrows. “How’d he find out?”
“Hell if I know.” I threw up my hands, that scratchy sensation of paranoia crawling up my back again, the way it had every time I’d walked around Carlsville in the weeks before I’d decided to leave. It had been hard to know who to trust anymore. I’d only told a few people I’d gone to the authorities. And then, only days later, Scooter had shown up at my house as high as a kite on some new drug he was selling, shouting, threatening, screaming in rage.
I’d packed up my bags and left the very next day.
“Does your handler know you’re here?” Franklin asked.
I glanced away, gritting my teeth at the lie. “I told him I was coming to get Owen. He tried to talk me out of it, but he said he couldn’t stop me if that was my choice.”
Franklin’s face twitched, as if he had something to say, but he only gave me a nod. There was something in his eyes then, something he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to have a lot of interest in the fact I was in the witness protection program. He even seemed to know a lot more about the FBI than the average American citizen, and I had to wonder…how and why?
“The program allows you to take your children with you when you go,” Franklin finally said, which only confirmed my earlier thoughts. This guy knew a hell of a lot more about the witness protection program than a normal person did.
“Yeah, and I chose for Owen to stay here with his grandmother,” I said, tears filling my eyes again. “I thought it was the best thing for him. I didn’t want to rip him away from everything he knew and loved. This is his home. It always has been.”
“But you came back,” he said quietly.
“Damn straight.” I lifted my chin. “Leaving Owen was the worst mistake of my life. He deserves to be with his mother, and he needs to be as far away from Scooter Stone as he can get. I’ve been in
contact with my mom since I left. And yes, before you say anything, I know I’m not supposed to, but I had to check in with her. I had to know that Owen was okay.”
“It’s fine, Rosie. I’m not trying to attack you here. I just want to understand why you came back.”
I met Franklin’s serious gaze. “I came back because Scooter’s been stopping by to see Owen, talking about pruning him to join his crew. He’s only three years old, Franklin. What kind of man talks about raising his three-year-old son to join his drug business?”
“Right.” Franklin gave a nod. “That settles it then. We’re going to go get your son and get you out of here.”
Chapter Seven
Franklin
Rosie Smith had gotten herself into a hell of a situation, but hearing exactly what she’d done made a little ball of respect grow in my gut. It took a lot of nerve to do a thing like that. Her ex-husband was the kind of guy the agency looked into a lot, a prime target for them to catch. She must have a lot of fight inside her to make that kind of stand, to turn her back on her home and everything she loved.
“We’ll go first thing in the morning,” I said, peering out the window at the storm that had picked up again. No sign of any pickup trucks crowding into the hotel parking lot down below or speeding down the road. Rosie was safe here, or as safe as she could be for now.
“The morning?” her voice hitched up. “Not now?”
“It’s two in the morning, and your ex-husband is out there in this storm looking for you,” I said with a nod. “I’m sure he’ll have someone watching your mother’s place to see if you go back tonight, don’t you think?”
“Shit.” She squeezed her fists around the comforter on the large bed. They’d given me a room with a king-sized bed, even though I’d asked for two twins. I’d have to let Rosie take the bed while I tried to get some sleep on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to catch some z’s on an uncomfortable surface. “My poor mom is probably worried sick. She didn’t ask for this.”
“Why don’t you call her and tell her you’re okay,” I said gently, pointing at the phone cradled on the bedside table. “You can tell her you’e alright, and we’ll get some rest, at least for a few hours. Then, we’ll go get Owen as soon as we wake up.”
She nodded, her eyes trailing down to the phone. “What if Scooter still has someone watching the house tomorrow?”
“It’ll be broad daylight.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall. “They’ll give up after a few hours of this, don’t you think?”
“Give up on hunting me down?” Rosie shrugged and frowned down at the floor. “To be honest, I think Scooter would do whatever it took to silence me.”
Her words sent shivers along my skin. This was her ex-husband she was talking about, a man who should have felt protective over her, not someone who wanted to put her in harm’s way. I fisted my hands by my sides and fought with the anger in my gut. I hated men like him. Guys who preyed on the innocent just because they could.
“Well, I won’t let that happen.”
While Rosie called her mother, I stepped out onto the balcony to give her a little privacy, though I left the sliding glass door cracked just enough for me to hear her voice. The rain had died down a little, though the wind still howled across the deserted streets. Down the road, I saw a Cracker Barrel and a Shoney’s restaurant, their signs lit up even though everything in this town was closed for the night.
I dug my burner phone out of my pocket and tapped in a number I hadn’t dialled in months. As it rang, I kept my ears tuned into Rosie’s quiet voice as she spoke to her mother. She sounded calm, hushed, level-headed. That was a good sign.
“Rockford speaking,” a gruff voice filtered through the burner phone.
“Rockford, this is Bulldog,” I said, using my former code name.
A moment passed in silence. I could hear the shuffle of papers, a door closing, Rockford’s mind whirring as he realized it was me. “Bulldog? What the hell are you doing calling me? You got burned. I should hang up this phone right here and now, and you know it. Actually, scratch that. I should try to trace this call and tell them exactly where the fuck you are. You’re a wanted man. You know that, right?”
“This isn’t about me, Rockford,” I said quickly, crossing my fingers that my old pal would come through for me just this once. We hadn’t spoken since I got my burn notice a year ago, and I knew he must feel betrayed by my sudden disappearance off the grid. But I couldn’t have told him my plans. If I had, the agency would have pried it right out of him. “I’m with a girl right now who is in serious trouble, and I need to find her handler.”
“Her handler?” Rockford lowered his voice, his interest clearly piqued. “She in witness security or something?”
“That’s right,” I said, glancing through the clear glass door to see Rosie hunched over on the bed and still speaking to her mother on the hotel room’s phone. “She’s in a bad sitch, Rockford. Her ex-husband is trying to have her assaulted or even killed, and her handler doesn’t seem to give a damn where she is.”
Rockford sighed heavily into the phone. “Dammit, Bulldog.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. Rockford had a weakness for damsels in distress. He wasn’t the kind of agent to leave an innocent in danger, even if that meant disobeying orders. I’d been the same. It had been how I’d gotten fucking burned in the first place.
Rockford was right though. He shouldn’t be talking to me, least of all about this. I’d been cast out by the agency, and they’d taken everything from me in order to hunt me down. They’d left me with no money I could access, no contacts who were willing to help, no identity of my own. To them, I was a dead man walking.
“Her name is Rosie Smith.” I rattled off my burner phone number and thanked him before hanging up. He’d call me back as soon as he had some information about her case. My plan was to get her son and take her straight to her handler where he could put them right back under witness security. I just had to hope I could do it without getting caught myself.
Rosie glanced up when I shut the sliding door behind me. Her eyes were clearer, her face finally full of some color. “Everything okay with your mother?”
She nodded. “She said she’s fine, but there’s a guy in a truck out front watching the house.”
“As expected.” I moved toward the bed but stopped short, my hands twitching at my sides. It didn’t feel right sitting on the bed next to her, not after everything she’d been through tonight. She didn’t need a man crowding her space, someone taking advantage of her in this vulnerable state. But damn, she looked so good with her flushed cheeks and her wild hair. Her lips were red and pursed, and the short shorts I’d bought her from the store put the smooth skin of her thighs on display.
I glanced away.
“So, we’ll sleep here for a couple of hours?” Rosie’s voice hitched up at the end as she patted the bedspread, and when I moved my eyes back toward her face, her neck and cheeks had flushed with a darker shade of pink.
My whole body felt drawn toward her, but I forced my feet to stay rooted to my spot in the middle of the room. Bad idea, I told myself. Do not get involved with this girl.
I cleared my throat and stepped back. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“The floor?” Her eyes widened. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is a huge bed. We can both fit just fine.”
“I think that’s hardly appropriate,” I said, even though I hated myself a little bit for saying the words. Who the hell was I to care about appropriateness? It had never stopped me from sleeping with a girl in the past. But her big green eyes and her cherry red lips made me want to be a good man just this once. And a good man wouldn’t come on to her right now.
“Please,” she said, her tone turning soft and sweet. “I could use a warm body beside me tonight.”
Shit. My willpower crumbled at her words. My shoes came off, but not my shirt or my pants. Keeping my clothes on
would ensure I didn’t let myself get carried away. Slowly, I slid under the soft sheets, my heartbeat loud in my ears and my cock throbbing with a need I could barely stand. I forced myself not to look at her, instead turning to face the bland hotel wall. But I could smell her sweet skin and feel the warmth radiating off her body. She let out a soft sigh, and her breath caressed the back of my neck. I went rock hard.
Dammit. This was going to be one long-ass night.
Chapter Eight
Rosie
Franklin’s back was turned toward me, and my fingers itched to reach out and trace the swirling tattoos that covered the length of his arm. He was so tough, so strong, and yet he was one of the kindest men I’d ever met. A part of me wanted to get close to him, to feel his body wrapped around mine.
But he wasn’t interested, I could tell. He hadn’t wanted to get into bed with me, and when he had—after my begging…how embarrassing—he’d immediately turned away from me to stare at the wall.
My breathing was heavy, and I couldn’t relax. Not with this perfect specimen in bed beside me. It had been a long time since I’d felt the comforting arms of a man. Maybe if I just pressed my hand against his back, he’d get the message. He’d turn toward me, and then…
I shifted closer to him, letting my thigh touch his. Immediately, he stiffened, his body going rigid.
“What are you doing?” he asked in strained voice.
“I’m cold,” I said, which was a bit of a lie. My whole body felt flushed and hot.
He twisted to face me, and his eyes searched my face. My skin hummed from the intensity I saw in his expression. My breath caught. I’d been wrong. There was something there, I could tell. This wasn’t how a man looked at a woman unless he wanted her, like he was using all his willpower to stay on his side of the bed.
Taken: Saved by the Billionaire Bad Boy Page 3