“Jaimee Turner.” He watched her closely as he stepped back. “This is Michael Butler. He’s the detective on this case.”
Detective Butler was tall, just an inch or two shy of Lucas. His head was shaved and his skin was smooth, dark chocolate brown. His eyes were the most amazing gold green she’d ever seen and seemed to glow with what she could only describe as cool sympathy. Hesitantly, she took the hand he offered and found it strong and warm. “Detective.”
“Mrs. Turner. We’re nearly done here. We’ll need your statement and then we’ll be out of your way.”
She just nodded, trying not to look back at Lucas even though she could feel his gaze on her. “That’s okay.” What was she supposed to say?
Movement along the ominously dark tree line caught her attention and she forgot to breathe. The biggest man she’d ever seen in her life seemed to materialize from the edge of the woods and walk toward them. As he crossed the patio, Jaimee instinctively stepped back a couple of paces and was relieved to feel Lucas’s hands rest on her shoulders. The man was dressed in a black tank top, camo fatigue pants and black combat boots. Around his hips was strapped a thick black leather gun belt that held a sinister-looking hand cannon. You couldn’t call a weapon like that a gun. The tattoo that circled his right biceps was a black intricate tribal design that oddly tempered his otherwise primitive and barbaric appearance.
She had to crane her neck to look up at him. His black hair was cropped short in a military cut. A short well-groomed goatee framed his mouth. Onyx eyes met hers, the erratic pounding of her heart quieted a bit and she shuddered at the peace that seemed to descend over her like a veil. This man knew God. She didn’t know how she knew, but she had no doubt. Her gaze fell on the small and simple gold cross that hung from the black leather cord tied around his neck.
“It’s okay, Jaimee, he’s one of the good guys…” Lucas spoke softly from behind her, his hands moving up and down her upper arms.
“Mrs. Turner, this is ‘The Pope’…” Detective Butler began.
“Malaki.” His eyes never left hers. His incredibly deep bass voice was matter of fact and surprisingly gentle. “My name is Malaki, ma’am.”
Torn between exhaustion and intrigue Jaimee took a deep breath and accepted the hand he offered. It easily enveloped hers. “Nice to meet you.”
He gave her hand a squeeze before he released it and stepped back. Malaki was a walking contradiction. Her brows furrowed as she studied him. She was being rude, but she couldn’t look away. What she saw in his eyes just didn’t match the rest of him.
“Let’s go in and talk.” Detective Butler caught her attention and distracted her.
With her senses reeling, she allowed herself to be led into her living room. Lucas took her hand as he sat down on the sofa beside her, weaving his fingers with hers. It was ridiculous that the gesture had relief flooded through her. At the same time it irritated her. On top of everything that was happening, the mixed signals Lucas was giving her set her teeth on edge. Detective Butler took the chair and Malaki stood, watching.
She forced herself to push her confused feelings about her relationship with Lucas aside. The fact that someone had tried to invade her home had her uneasy and emotional enough. If Lucas hadn’t been there she would have been in bed asleep. She had no way of knowing whether the intruder’s intentions had been merely mercenary or something altogether more sinister. Summoning every ounce of determination she had, she reminded herself that ifs didn’t matter now. She had to focus on what was.
“Mrs. Turner. Are you all right?” Detective Butler asked, interrupting her thoughts a second time.
Malaki walked around the couch and into the hall without saying a word. She chose to ignore him. “Yes.” She just wanted to get on with this and get everyone out. There were too many people in her house. Too many men and all were looking at her like she was some sort of odd specimen of toenail fungus.
“Do you need anything?”
“What?” She didn’t mean to snap but she couldn’t help it. The whole situation was damn unnerving.
“Can I get you something? A drink of water?”
“No, I’m fine.” Lucas’s thumb caressed her wrist, making her remember. She squeezed her eyes closed for a second, tugging gently to try and free her hand but he wouldn’t let her go.
“You’re shaking, baby.” Though Lucas spoke softly his voice held an edge of violence.
“I am?”
Jaimee didn’t realize Malaki was standing beside her until he handed Lucas the crocheted afghan her grandmother had given her when she went away to college. It held so many sweet memories. Even though she’d carefully laundered it over the years it still held the faint scent of her grandmother’s delicate perfume. Lucas wrapped it around her shoulders and somehow the familiar weight, the warmth of the afghan calmed her. Lucas murmured something in her hair. Her mind didn’t register the words but she didn’t try and resist when he pulled her closer to him. Grandma would have loved Lucas. She loved Lucas.
“We’ve been looking for this man for a while now. We brought The Pope in on this case because of his exceptional ability in tracking. As far as security goes, there’s no one better. Mrs. Turner, he’s here to help, there’s no need to fear him.”
“I’m not afraid of him.” At least the attention of the men shifted to Malaki and away from her, all but Lucas’s anyway. She turned to Malaki, making sure she looked him in the eye. “Why do they call you ‘The Pope’?”
“You’ll have to ask them.” The deep bass of his voice was commanding and strong.
“Are you Catholic?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the cross at his throat. “You’re Protestant then?”
“No.”
“Well then what—”
“I am Malaki Papalu, Mrs. Turner,” he interrupted her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said quickly. Must be the residual adrenaline that had her mouth running faster than her brain.
Malaki’s expression remained impassive though his eyes seemed to smile. “I am not offended, ma’am.”
“Okay good.” She yawned and slumped against Lucas. His solid body was warm and strong, his powerful arms held her close; it would be so nice just to curl into him and go to sleep.
“Mrs. Turner, I’m truly sorry, I know it’s late. But I need your statement.”
Jaimee nodded and sat up. Her eyelids and her heart were heavy and her body ached as if she’d run after the asshole herself.
“Just recount for us what happened with as many details you can remember.”
Jaimee left out everything that transpired before Butler called to tell him The Pope was in. She walked them through the events following like a pro. Step by step, she was careful not to leave out so much as one tiny detail. Her voice was stronger now and she seemed steadier. At least she wasn’t trembling anymore.
She was snuggled against him, warm and soft. Just to hold her like this gave him a sense of peace, of blessed contentment. She isn’t free, he reminded himself, and when she found out she was still married the guilt would be crushing. His jaw tightened as rage coursed through him. So much pain awaited Jaimee and it was killing him to know that he’d be the one to deliver it. He couldn’t let her take it on alone.
Nothing would please him more at that moment than beating Brent Turner to a bloody pulp with his bare hands. It took a special kind of reprehensible to do what Turner had done to the one person he had committed to love and protect. Jaimee, with all her bravado and tenacity, needed to be cherished. She was a woman worthy of devotion, respect and adoration. Instead Turner had slandered her, ignored her, used her and then deserted her. For that alone Lucas wanted the idiot to feel pain…lots of pain.
God, how in the hell was he going to be able to let her go? Pain seared his chest and it was only going to get worse. It was just supposed to be another job but one taste of her and he was hooked. Then somewhere along the way she’
d shown him he had a heart after all, only to leave it decimated. Fucking irony. It was best to get it over with now. Tonight he’d tell her and watch her turn away from him forever, cold and distant. Until then he was going to absorb as much of her warmth as he could. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her warm vanilla scent, branding it into his memory.
Butler stood and offered his hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Turner. You’ve been very helpful.”
Jaimee took the hand he offered. “I hope so.” She unfolded her legs from under her to stand.
“You have.”
Lucas stood to lead them out. “I’ll see them out, Jaimee, stay comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Once they were outside, Lucas shut the door behind him and turned to The Pope. “Where did you find the blanket?”
“On a shelf in her bedroom closet.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “She had blankets in the hall closet.”
“Not that one. Women keep their most treasured comfort items in their bedroom.” The Pope turned to go then stopped abruptly and turned, meeting Lucas’s gaze. “It was not sex that nurtured the bond. It was the bond that encouraged sex.” He walked away without looking back.
“Anyway.” Butler glanced over his shoulder, watching The Pope walk toward the house in which Lucas had been staying. “I figured you’d be staying with Mrs. Turner.”
Still processing what The Pope had said, Lucas said nothing. Butler eyed him for a moment before continuing. “The Pope can bunk at the house and…” he paused, shook his head wearily and shrugged, “…do what he does best.”
“It’s time. Now. She needs to be told.” Butler shook his head but Lucas gave him no time to speak. “Fuck you, Butler, I’m not going to keep stringing her along like this. She has a right to know the piece of shit isn’t dead.”
“You don’t know for certain that this guy was Turner.”
Lucas took a step forward and stared menacingly into Butler’s eyes. “There was enough hair in the cap. Run your goddamn tests. It was Turner.”
“Back up, pretty boy, before I put my size twelve up your ass.”
Lucas didn’t move, wasn’t about to back down. “Take your best shot,” he growled.
“Lucas?” He tensed further and took a short step back at Jaimee’s soft voice. Butler’s scowl faded but he held eye contact.
“It’s okay, Jaimee. I just had some questions, I’ll be right in.”
He didn’t have to look back at her to know she was frowning at him. She didn’t like being treated like a fragile flower. But damn it to hell that’s exactly what she was to him. She’d been hurt too fucking much already and the worst was coming. The door closed behind him a little harder than it should have, just short of a slam and he turned his ire back on Butler.
“She’s in trouble, Grayson. Even I know she’s not the swooning female type. You tell her now and she will react. Probably try and hunt the asshole down herself.”
Lucas clenched his teeth. Butler was right, damn him, he was right. He pushed his wild hair back from his face. “Understand, as soon as Turner is found, I’m bringing Jaimee in.”
Butler scowled but nodded. “All right.”
“Ready a safe house. And Michael—” Lucas wanted him to know that he was asking him as a friend rather than his case agent. “I want her as comfortable as possible. I’ll finance it myself.”
Butler nodded again, taking a deep breath. “It’ll be taken care of.”
Still clutching her grandmother’s afghan around her shoulders, she paced the small space in front of her sofa. She was brooding, her brows knit together, reasoning, speculating, contemplating all the events of the evening as she nibbled on her bottom lip. He could all but see her mind working like well-oiled cogs.
“Jaimee,” he said softly.
She turned to him. “Before you say anything there’s something you need to understand.” Her hair was nearly dry now. Glossy sable ringlets curled around her face, caressing her pretty pink cheeks. Though her eyelids were heavy with fatigue her eyes were sharp. There was anger in those fathomless clear blue depths but it wasn’t the anger that had his heart clenching. It was the pain.
“I was raised by strong women. I come from a long line of ball busters. That’s just the way I was raised—”
“Jaimee—”
“I don’t take orders, nor do I bow down to any man. I will not sit around like Rapunzel waiting for some prince to come save me. I am more than capable of defending and protecting myself and mine—”
She was pushing him now. “Jaimee.” It was a warning, one he knew with growing anger that she wouldn’t heed.
“—even you. I’ve never expected a man to save me and I’ve never needed a knight in shining armor, Lucas. I don’t need one now.”
“The hell you don’t.” The hoarse growl through clenched teeth sounded as though it came from somewhere else as he closed the distance between them. He buried his hand in her thick hair and caught it in a fist then pulled her hard against him and tugged her head back. His mouth covered hers, silencing her attempt at a snide retort. Her lips were so full, so sweet.
“Open, goddammit.” He groaned against her mouth, slightly tightening his grip on her hair as his tongue stroked her bottom lip. With his other hand he cupped her ass, kneading her lush fullness as he held her against him.
Her moan of protest quickly became one of pleasure, her fingers curled against his chest as her lips parted on a sigh. Spontaneous combustion. If he didn’t gain control of his libido, and quickly, he’d take her against the wall. He couldn’t do that, not now. She’s still fucking married, he roared at himself even as his tongue stroked over hers, his rock-hard shaft eagerly pressed against her soft belly. Forcing himself to release her, he tore his mouth from hers and stepped back breathlessly.
With his hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for her, he waited for her to lift her eyes to his. When she did he winced at the confusion, the pain, and his heart thundered in his chest, threatening to explode. “Let’s go to bed. You’re exhausted.” It was a feeble, clumsy attempt at an excuse. With wide eyes she stared up at him, dumbfounded and dejected. This would kill them both.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Jaimee covered her mouth and tried to stifle yet another yawn. This day had to be longest day of her life. Lucas had tried to get her to call for a sub but she honestly didn’t want to spend the day with him and his confusing mixed signals. All day she’d tried to figure it out. It wasn’t like he could hide the fact that he was aroused but he went out of his way to keep his distance. Even went so far as to sleep in his pants, on top of the comforter, at the same time he held her close all through what was left of the night. At the time the only explanation she could think of was that maybe he believed he was obligated to spend the night in case the burglar came back. In any case the rejection hurt, even if he did kiss her like his life depended on it. It was odd, but she was tired of trying to make sense of it. Her thoughts and emotions were too befuddled from lack of sleep. Maybe he really did just want her to get a few hours of sleep.
“Mrs. Turner?”
Jaimee looked up and scanned the class. Twenty-five pairs of eyes were watching her curiously. Taking a deep breath, she straightened in her chair and answered the student wearily. “Yes, Molly?”
“Someone’s knocking on the door.”
“Oh.” Jaimee gave her a half smile and rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. See what happens when you stay up late watching T.V.” It was a reasonable enough fictitious excuse.
There was a spattering of chuckles from the students as Jaimee stood and walked to the door. The interruption had them whispering amongst themselves.
“Shhh, no talking, people. You’re taking a test,” she admonished them as she opened the door.
Another English teacher, Janice Benningfield, stood waiting. “Hey, Jaimee, sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem.”
Janice flash
ed her famous mischievous pixie grin. “I was blessed with a new transfer student and wondered if you had an extra text book.”
“Yeah.” Jaimee smiled. “I think I have a couple in the cabinet.” She motioned for Janice to follow and she went to her desk to retrieve the key from her tote. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” she said half to herself before remembering she’d put it in her top desk drawer. “Sheesh, I’m brain-dead today, I swear.”
“It’s Friday, dear, we’re all brain-dead.”
“True, very true.” Jaimee laughed as she unlocked the metal cabinet. “You just need one?”
“Yep. For now. You never know, the powers that be may deem me worthy of even more blessings.”
“Well I have more if they do.” Grinning, Jaimee took a book from the top of the pile. Her smile faded and she did a double take. Behind the pile, against the back wall of the cabinet was wedged what looked like a black leather day planner.
“Something wrong?” Janice asked.
“Huh?” Jaimee forced herself to turn her attention away. “Oh no, I just remembered something I had forgotten to do,” she covered with a smile.
“Ah.” Janice eyed her suspiciously.
Janice was very intuitive, and combined with her natural curiosity and downright nosiness, it made it hard to pull anything over on her. Her students as well as her own children detested that quality in her. Jaimee didn’t mind usually. But she did envy her keen intuition. Especially now, when she was so unsure of what was happening around her. Her life had always been so ordered, serene, boring even. Now she had a sinking feeling it was about to be turned upside down. Surprisingly Janice didn’t push but thanked Jaimee for the book, apologized for the interruption and told her pointedly she’d see her later. Jaimee continued to smile, nodded and closed the door quietly behind her.
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