Mistake (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  He barked a parody of a laugh. “The choice was made for me, Jenna. I couldn’t even find the guts to leave her. Sometimes she’d pull it together for long periods of time and it gave me hope. We lived together and I spent every non-working hour with her. Being a cop meant long hours but I made it to detective soon enough. Despite her. We were talking about marriage, starting a family because she’d been sober and seemed so determined to stay that way.

  “She got drunk one final time and climbed behind the wheel of a car one final time—she’d lost her licence despite how I’d intervened on her behalf. Hit a truck head on, the only blessing was she didn’t kill the people in it.”

  She waited, knowing there was more. And there was, and it killed her to hear it.

  “Valerie had quit drinking. Cold turkey. It was painful to watch, but she was doing it. And then she wasn’t. She got pissed and killed herself and our baby. She hadn’t told me she was pregnant, I figure because she knew I’d lock her down. And I hate her to this day.”

  Jenna curled into his side and put her arm across his waist, tucking her head against his chest and willed herself to breathe. A baby. All of this man’s protective, possessive instincts laid to waste by one selfish act made by a drunk. Hot tears leaked past her tightly closed lids as she ached for him. And she’d called him a coward. He already thought he was a coward because he hadn’t been able to step away. Instead, he’d made a child with an alcoholic and lost it, too. Jenna wasn’t certain she could have managed those implications.

  “You got behind my force field, sweetheart, and I ran like the proverbial chicken. Hey! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “Pass me a tissue.” She mopped at her face and looked at him. “She had it all, Bryce. A good man and a baby, and she threw it all away. I know it’s an illness. But it doesn’t make it any easier to take.”

  “Been a long time, Jenna. I say I hate her but it’s like an old wound, aches sometimes and then I don’t think about it. I didn’t think about it at all when I was with you.”

  He’d depersonalized Valerie. Jenna wondered if he realized he’d done so. Valerie was more of a bad memory, a nightmare, than something tangible. Kind of like what she had done in regard to her parents. You had to move on or be sucked dry. Or drown.

  “I saw Jason as my way out, Bryce. He seemed to offer something very different than what I knew. And at first he did. He’s ill, too, and I didn’t leave until he was taken away. I just want to move on.”

  “Me, too, baby.”

  He settled back with her tucked against him and she drifted, just listening to his heart, feeling hers try to beat in sync.

  “What do you want to do today?”

  “Nap,” she said, hearing how drowsy her voice sounded.

  “After that.”

  “Don’t know.” She was emotionally drained. Bryce said nothing further and she drifted again.

  * * * *

  Confession was apparently good for the soul, although it probably required proper timing. There was no way he could have effectively dealt with the chaos that was Valerie right after her death, and maybe not for some time afterward. But there’d been a lot of wasted years in between where he closed himself off in self-defence and didn’t consider that things might have changed. Still, it might have taken Jenna for him to work it out—it didn’t escape him how some aspects of their lives meshed. At some point he’d want to hear more about her childhood. His had been fairly average until Valerie, and he’d been close to adulthood then. But growing up with a pair of drunks as parents…god. Jenna seemed remarkably sane and insightful. She’d lived years of a nightmare after leaving her childhood home, too. It spoke to her inner strength and resilience, although she’d have some skewed shit going on, too. He’d deal.

  Bryce knew where this was going. He was going to be exclusive with her and they were going to move in together for real once this thing with her ex was dealt with. If Jenna wanted to get married they would—it would probably increase the odds for adopting. He wanted as many kids as she thought she could mother. His house wasn’t big enough, but he hadn’t spent a lot over the years so they could sell it and buy another with at least four bedrooms. His parents would love Jenna and he’d introduce her as soon as possible, when things were safe. The very act of bringing a woman to meet them would say it all. Too bad his promotion party had to be put back, although Asshole would have to be nuts to try anything in a roomful of cops. Maybe it could serve as a dual celebration.

  But the timing wasn’t right. Jenna didn’t need to be on edge at such an event. Everything would come in good time. Bryce listened as her breath deepened and she fell further into sleep. He thought if he could hear that sound every day for the rest of his life he’d die a happy man. He’d keep her safe and love her forever. And if that made him a pussy, that was okay, too. For the first time in a very long time he felt content and held hope for the future.

  Chapter Seven

  “I need to go back home to pack some more clothes, Bryce.”

  “Jenna, you brought two suitcases! And it’s only been a week.” His big body slouched on the couch as he fixed his eyes on her.

  “Uh, huh, and one of them held my makeup and toiletries. And someone has destroyed my panties,” she said archly.

  “They got in my way, sweetheart.”

  “Well, I’m down to one pair. You could always take me shopping.”

  He was on his feet and in her space in the next instant. “I’ll buy you lingerie, Jenna, but I’ll do the shopping.”

  “But—”

  “No, sweetheart. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine’s…you can expect silk and lace seeing as you won’t eat chocolate, and I’d rather see you in the stuff I choose.”

  It was an effort, but she didn’t roll her eyes. She could imagine the underwear Bryce was going to buy for her, and while her inner slut rejoiced, she had to have some items to wear all day. “Then you can wait in the truck. Or outside the store,” she hastened to add when his face darkened. She’d almost forgotten about Jason! A week of Bryce, playing house and enjoying all the fringe benefits, trusting both her heart and wellbeing to him, had actually pushed her ex to the back of her mind!

  “We’ll go to your place. Same deal, though. I pulled the man off your house two days ago when Asshole was spotted in this area. So we’ll have Michelle tail us and you follow my lead while I check the house.”

  She could hear the frustration in his voice. Jason had proven to be slippery, evading all efforts to track him down.

  “Okay.” She wasn’t taking any chances with her safety, or with Bryce’s. He pulled her in for a kiss, and she totally forgot about her diminishing stash of panties or the fact the ones she had on were becoming damp and uncomfortable as her body reacted.

  Releasing her, Bryce patted her ass and smiled. She knew he’d read the disappointment on her face. Probably she could talk him into a little nap at her place after she changed. She hadn’t missed the way his hips pressed into hers or the hardening of his cock against her. Jenna quickly went to make a list of a few things she’d bring back with her.

  Bryce was on his cell, organizing the troops. “Jenna needs some stuff from home and we’re both a little stir crazy—save it, Darren. None of your business.” He winked at her and her face heated. Darren was probably speculating about the status of their relationship. The time had flown by, something she would never have anticipated, but then she hadn’t thought Bryce could have worn her defenses down in such short order, either. It still hurt to think of what he had gone through and the way he’d protected his heart from being destroyed again.

  “You ready?” There was impatient Bryce again. She nodded and picked up her purse.

  “Can we get groceries or should we order them in again?”

  “We’ll order them, sweetheart. This little trip makes me nervous, but maybe if he does spot us he’ll feel pushed. As much as I like being with you and able to drag you to bed whenever I want to, we need to do some other t
hings.”

  “Like?”

  “Like go out for dinner. Check on those horses. Spend time with friends. You know, a well-rounded social life, not to mention we both have jobs and your boss didn’t sound thrilled to give you another week of vacation.”

  “I know.” She was entitled to two weeks, but it was a busy time and the notice had been short.

  “I’ll have a word,” he promised.

  “No. You won’t. I’m quite capable of taking care of some things myself.” Uh oh. First fight in six days.

  But Bryce merely looked and her and nodded. “Sure, Jenna. I know you can. Just as you know when you can’t.”

  Shit. Now he was being nice and she felt like a bitch.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be, Jenna. I tend to get pushy and my mother reminds me of it often. You need to make me back off when I overstep.”

  “Oh, okay.” She liked this part of a relationship. There would be times when she’d push him and he’d push back, but not all the time. It felt…well rounded.

  “Let’s get going. Just remember how we do this.”

  Nodding, she followed him outside and kept close until he had her sitting in the passenger seat. The drive to her place was a far cry from the tension-filled one on the way to his nearly a week ago. They conversed—holy shit, she dared to think it—like they used to but better, knowing personal things about each other. He’d even told her about his family and she’d talked a little more about hers. She knew why he’d become a cop, having seen it as a way to help others while making a dent in the crime that swept the area. It had been his dream since childhood, protecting and serving. His dad was a carpenter and his mom a librarian. She could hardly wait to meet them.

  As they pulled up to her house, nothing seemed amiss. She didn’t get much mail and didn’t subscribe to the paper, so aside from the flower beds requiring some weeding, things were the same. Her neighbor’s son mowed her lawn and it showed signs of being freshly cut.

  “Okay, we’ll go in and remember the drill.”

  “Okay.”

  Nothing happened when they entered, and Bryce left her at the door after locking it, and did a quick walk through. The air felt stale and undisturbed although her stomach tensed until he returned.

  “How about if I raid your pantry and fridge, baby? Pack up what we can use at my place.”

  That made sense. “Sure. I’ll go change and pack a few more things. I have another suitcase,” she teased.

  Heading toward her bedroom, she reminded herself to tell Bryce to put laundry detergent on the grocery order. She walked into her ensuite and hurriedly undressed, tossing the clothes into the hamper, then wrapped a towel around her body. She glanced into the mirror and liked what she saw. A smiling face, eyes bright with happiness—she looked like a woman in love, and well loved. Maybe if she took her time, Bryce would become impatient and come looking for her, and maybe her towel would slip and…she smiled wider and walked back into her bedroom. Right into her worst nightmare.

  “You didn’t get the message, Jenna, huh? And I took such trouble. Too busy fucking the big guy. Well, I have some interesting plans for him.” Jason nearly crushed her wrist in a death grip as he whispered his threats, his other hand over her mouth. She almost went to her knees, thinking as quickly as her terror-filled head would allow. Where was Bryce? She’d heard nothing. She became aware how frail the barrier of the towel was between her and her ex-husband. If only she hadn’t gotten so greedy…

  “Message?” she mumbled against his hand. Surely that response was safe enough.

  Removing his sweaty palm from her mouth, Jason snatched a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. Hard. “Keep your fucking voice down, or I’ll shut your mouth for you. And don’t play stupid. Your car, Jenna. Parked it to warn you that you were going the wrong direction, leaving me. And then you really did it, opening yourself up to that guy. You never used to be stupid. He fucking your brains out?”

  Oh god. He was in one of his worse moods and that never boded well. She nodded, and then shook her head, not trusting her voice. Jason relaxed infinitesimally, but his pale blue eyes bored into her own, the pupils dilating until the rim of blue virtually disappeared—it was like looking into the flat, disinterested eyes of a shark. Jenna knew he wouldn’t feel a hint of remorse when he killed her. If he killed her. She couldn’t let herself lose to terror. She dug for courage. “What do you want, Jason?”

  Wrong approach. The shark eyes glinted and he leaned in until she could feel the fine spray of spittle herald his words. “Stupid question, Jenna. You know what I want. I want my wife and I want the asshole she’s been fucking, dead. And I want my wife to learn her lesson.”

  Again she nodded, her mouth dry and her belly hollow. A small blade materialized in his right hand and he almost lazily traced a design on her shoulder. She flinched away when the sensation translated into pain akin to a paper cut—her hand had hurt more. It was the way his face changed, all soft and dreamy and totally at odds with his expressionless eyes, that sliced deep. When Jason pressed his lips there she nearly vomited, swallowing to keep the bile at bay.

  “Get up.” He moved to stand by the bed, blocking her access to the door.

  Jenna did as she was told, hitching the towel closed at her breasts. Jason paid no attention to her body, training his eyes on her face. The blade looked like a box cutter and she could see the long, narrow shape of a much bigger knife held somehow at his waist beneath his tight fitting tee. He didn’t look much different than the last time she saw him, a couple of inches taller than her, slim, but with a wiry strength people underestimated. His dark brown hair might have a few threads of silver, but his good-looking, youthful face belied his age—only Jason could go to prison and not have it mark him outwardly. She shuddered to think of what being locked up and told what to do—forced to do—had done to him on the inside. He was defiance personified.

  Sauntering with well-remembered grace to stand beside the door, he lifted a black sap from the back pocket of his jeans. “Call your fuck buddy in, Jenna.”

  Oh no. No. “No.”

  The look engulfing his face quite ludicrously made her want to laugh. Gone was the acquiescent wife who never dared to tell him no or defy him, especially once his illness spiralled out of control.

  “Call him,” he gritted.

  “No. I won’t help you hurt anyone else, Jason. You got in enough trouble the last time and look what happened.”

  It was the right approach. Jason lost some of the tough guy attitude. “But you left.” He sounded like a tired, whiny child.

  “I was scared to stay. People blamed me.” A fat lie, but she was following her instincts, if blindly.

  “Who?” The angry look was back.

  “People at work. In our neighborhood. Complete strangers who’d heard.”

  “I told you I’d come for you.”

  She tried a tiny shrug. “I didn’t know when.”

  Jason looked at the sap then back at her. “You’re fucking him.”

  “He’s protecting me.” Could it really be this simple?

  It wasn’t. Jason visibly seethed at her comment. “Why would he protect you from me?”

  “I didn’t say it was from you, Jason. I didn’t say I thought I needed protection from you.”

  His brow creased and his eyes narrowed, but the light of insanity now glimmered there. His mercurial mood swings had escalated, something Jenna wouldn’t have believed possible. She wondered how his fragmented personality could stay on task.

  “So it’s his idea. He knows a good thing when he sees it.” There was a hint of pride in his voice but then a shudder encompassed his entire body, and he shoved the sap back into his pocket. He crossed to her, his actions fluid, and the big knife was in his other hand as he took up a position behind her. She felt one of his arms snake around her waist to hold her against his chest, distinctly feeling the thud of his heartbeat against her right shoulder and the intake and exhale o
f his chest. He smelled…spoiled, like meat left out on the counter too long. Her body involuntarily tensed and she breathed through her mouth. He smelled like death.

  Placing the flat of the blade against her throat, his hot breath fanned across her ear. “Call him.”

  She closed her eyes and prepared herself. There was no real choice. Jason would kill Bryce. She felt it in her bones and she wasn’t going to be a party to it. “No.”

  “Call him.” The promise of pain underlined the two words, coupled with the press of the blade.

  “She doesn’t need to call me, Baker. I’m here.” Bryce’s deep, measured tone filled the room and Jenna nearly sagged in despair, maintaining her stance only because of Jason’s unwitting support and the knife at her throat. She opened her eyes and stared at Bryce.

  Standing tall in the doorframe, his handsome face resolute, Bryce kept his eyes fixed just to the side of her head. Fixed on Jason. She fought back a whimper.

  “On your knees. Hands on top of your head. You know the position.” Jason said it in a singsong tone.

  “Don’t,” she choked out. Jason tightened his grip and pressed the blade harder. There was another sting—this one hurt more and from the flash of expression on Bryce’s features she knew she was actually cut. But he still didn’t give her his eyes.

  “Nothing doing, Baker. You let her go, send her into the bathroom and we’ll sort this out like men. Neither one of us needs to hide behind a woman.”

  Holy shit. Didn’t he know you couldn’t challenge a crazy man like that? Jenna waited for Jason to explode, but aside from another shudder, one that jerked the knife at her throat in deeper, he didn’t react. A trickle of warmth ran down over her collar bone and dribbled a pattern on the top her breast.

  “You’re a big one,” Jason announced. “Hardly a fair fight. Gun, too.”

  “I left my weapon in the other room—you can check. You can keep the knife.”