If You See Her

by Shiloh Walker

  Nothing will happen, she told herself. And he was right … she didn’t even know if it had been Joe. It could have been anybody. Anybody at all.

  But deep inside her gut, she wasn’t so sure. The body remembered things. Fear. Pain. And from the moment she’d seen the guy in the sedan, her body had been screaming a message: RUN RUN RUN.

  She wouldn’t want to run from a complete and total stranger. A complete and total stranger wouldn’t paralyze her with fear.

  But this one had. Or pretty damn close.

  Swallowing, she turned her face into his shirt, breathed in the scent of him. As he brought up a hand to cradle her nape, she murmured, “You better stay safe. Or I’ll make you regret it.”

  “Same goes,” he muttered. “And I’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. Now stop worrying so much.…”

  He watched as they left.

  Then he glanced up at the apartment and smirked.

  She’d seen him and she’d told the lawyer about it, too. Yeah. He could tell by the tight, unhappy look on the schmuck-lawyer’s face.

  Little bitch. Who did she think she was?

  And that fuck, Jennings. Putting his hands all over Hope. It made Joe’s head pound, made his blood boil.

  He lingered in the café as they headed down the sidewalk, knowing it would be better if he kept well out of sight for a while. At least until he knew what the lawyer was going to do. Probably wouldn’t do anything, pansy. But still. Joe wasn’t going to get cocky and fuck up. He knew better.

  Besides, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to accomplish after all. He’d made sure she saw him. Soon, it would be time to do more than that.

  He was tempted, by God, he was tempted to just wring her fucking neck for what she’d done, dump her skinny ass. Maybe even leave her someplace where people might think the lawyer had done her.

  But no. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what he needed to do. Take her home. Back to Clinton. Where she belonged. They’d deal with this divorce, he’d have his wife back, and she’d learn how badly she’d fucked up.

  That was what he needed to do, and that was what he would do.

  Soon. Staring through the window, he watched as Jennings lifted a hand, rested it low on Hope’s spine.

  The skirt she wore was too fucking short. Her hair was too fucking short. Jennings dipped his head and murmured to her and she looked up at him, smiled. And the sight of that smile hit Joe square in the chest. He slammed his cup down on the table. Hot coffee splattered all over his hand. Swearing, he bolted up from the chair just as the waitress came rushing to his side.

  “Sir, are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  Ignoring her, he dug a few singles from his pocket and flung them on the table.

  She’d smiled at him.

  Little bitch.

  She’d fucking smiled at the pussy lawyer—she hadn’t smiled at him like that in years. Oh, that little bitch. Wearing those slutty little clothes, cutting her hair … and flirting.

  Yeah, she was going to pay.

  But even as everything in him raged to go after them, he hung back.

  Just watching.

  And as they disappeared into a Realtor’s office, he narrowed his eyes.

  She was going to try to get that apartment, Joe realized. On her own?

  She couldn’t do shit on her own—he’d worked damn hard to make sure of that.

  “Wait,” he muttered to himself. “Just wait.”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  “THIS IS ALL I’VE GOT.”

  A week later, Hope stepped back from the bed and studied her meager possessions. She tried to ignore the nervous knots currently tangling in her gut.

  She needed to do this. She wanted to do this. She had to do this … she’d already put the money down. And if she backed out, she’d feel like even more of a loser than she already did.

  But damn it, this was hard.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she met Law’s gaze.

  He was alone with her in her room. Remy was downstairs.

  He had loaded her stuff into his car, all whopping five boxes and one suitcase. That was actually almost twice as much as she’d had when she came here a couple months earlier.

  She knew why he was waiting down there, too. Giving them privacy.

  Licking her lips, she turned around and rested her hips on the edge of the bed. “No,” she answered honestly, meeting Law’s hazel gaze. “I’m not sure. But I think I need to.”

  “Why now?” he asked quietly. His eyes were grim, and sad. The fight they’d had, it had driven a wedge between them, and although she wasn’t angry with him, she suspected he was still pissed off at himself. That was a bigger wedge than anything else.

  That, and the fact that both of them needed to figure out that she could take care of herself.

  “Because if not now, then when?” She clasped her hands, putting them between her knees to keep from fidgeting. “If not now, Law, then when?”

  “When things are a little more settled and I don’t have to worry about somebody trying to hurt you?” he suggested.

  He crouched in front of her, reaching up and closing his fingers around her wrists gently, angling them so he could study the healing scars.

  They were no longer an angry, vivid red, but they’d always serve as a reminder of what somebody had tried to do.

  “And if that person isn’t caught?”

  “What if it’s Joe?” he returned, cocking a brow. He rubbed a thumb over the scars and shook his head. “I don’t like this, sweetheart. I don’t like it at all. It’s too fucking strange, you seeing him on the highway and a few weeks ago, this happens.”

  “This was over a month ago,” she said quietly. “And Joe wasn’t around then.”

  “We don’t know that.” Law shook his head. “It’s not like we can prove that.”

  “And we can’t prove he was here, either.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Law, if I sit around waiting to see what happens, then I’m putting my life on hold. I’m just now finding my life. I don’t want to put it on hold anymore.”

  For a long, long moment, Law was quiet. Then finally, he nodded. “Okay.” He stood and leaned, pressed his lips to hers gently. “But you’re getting an alarm system. A killer one.”

  Hope grimaced. “Remy’s already talking to Ezra about it. We’ve got somebody coming out on Monday. And he’s …”

  She blushed.

  “Shit, Hope, if he’s staying the weekend with you, surely you can say that without blushing,” Law teased.

  She narrowed her eyes. Ignoring him was probably the safest route, she figured. Deciding to do just that, she gamely continued on. “Anyway, on Monday, we’ve got somebody coming out to install the security system and Ezra said he’d come out for that.”

  “Good.” Law grunted a little. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” He gave her a grin. “You can consider it a housewarming gift.”

  “Law …”

  “Come on, Hope.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Look at it like this—I know you, you’re going to weigh the pros, the cons, and go with the baseline model because it’s cheaper. I don’t want baseline, but I know you’ll have a harder time affording the bells and whistles …” He paused. “Unless you let me give you a raise.”

  Hope folded her arms and glared at him.

  “Okay, then it’s a housewarming gift.” She didn’t need to know he’d take care of the monthly cost—he’d just have a word with the technician. He’d get himself out here early on Monday and hang around until it was done. “Come on, Hope.”

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Law …”

  “Hope. I can afford it. And I’ll sleep better. You probably will, too.”

  She looked away, but not before he saw that fear flash through her eyes.

  Damn Joe Carson anyway. Why in the hell did he have
to show up around here?

  Night had fallen by the time Hope had her stuff neatly packed away.

  Remy watched as she stretched her arms over her head and grimaced. “Man, that took forever.” Amused, he chuckled.

  “What?” She aimed sleepy green eyes at him, a brow cocked.

  “Baby, that was a piece of cake compared to my move.” Then he skimmed a glance around the apartment and added, “But then again, I had more stuff than you did.”

  She made the Spartans look rather luxurious. Her living room had three pieces of furniture she’d bought over the past week, a couch, a coffee table and the small table that she’d bought to serve as a TV stand—when she bought a TV. Her bedroom had a bed and a dresser—that was it. Her dining room had a small, two-seater table that was probably going to be a desk. It already had the laptop Law had pushed into her hands just before they’d left.

  She wished she could have found some pleasure in those shopping excursions, but this time, they’d just been a chore, another task she had to get out of the way.

  “Yeah, I guess I don’t have much stuff, do I?” Looking around, Hope wrinkled her nose. “I need curtains. And more than two pots and pans and four plates …” She sighed and flopped down on the couch.

  “You can have a housewarming party.” He sat down next to her. That wasn’t close enough, though, so he pulled her into his lap, rested his hands on her slim thighs, pushed his hands under the hemline of the shorts she’d pulled on while they worked. “Make people buy you stuff you need.”

  “Ugh. No thanks. I don’t do parties.”

  “Don’t like them?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not that …” She bit her lip and glanced away. Then she sighed and looked back at him. “When I was married, Joe used to do parties. All the time. They were the catered kind and I never had to do more than organize them, but it was so nerve-wracking. Having people in there. And if I wasn’t polite enough, or if people thought there was something wrong …” She paused, swallowed. “One time, there was a lady there. She was new in town. And she knew. I could tell. She knew what Joe did to me. She came up to me when I was coming out of the bathroom. She told me I shouldn’t stay there, shouldn’t stay with him. It was … well. It was kind of her. Trying to help. But Joe knew. Somehow. He hurt me bad that night.”

  Remy’s heart ached as he watched her staring off into the distance, trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard not to let the strain show in her voice.

  He wanted to say something—do something that would help. But nothing could. Or would. So he stayed silent and imagined what he’d do if he ever got his hands on Joe Carson.

  Hope blew out a breath and said, “The next week, I found out that the woman’s husband was being brought before the school board. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I knew it then. And they both knew it. I saw her in the grocery store only once after that—it was right before they decided to move away. I told her I was sorry. She said she was, too. But she said she was sorry for me. Because she had a great guy, and she knew they’d be okay. She couldn’t say the same for me. A month later was when I tried to kill myself.”

  Leaning forward, he buried his face against her neck. “Hope, if I ever meet that guy in person, I’m going to break him. Just so you’re aware.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “Break him, huh?”

  “Yeah. Into about a thousand pieces. That sounds right.” He sat back and stared into her eyes. “So no party. And a party doesn’t have to be a big thing, you know. Could just be Lena, Ezra, Law … me.” He stroked his hands higher along her thighs. “They could bring you nice little housewarming gifts, and Lena can cook. She can cook like mad, too. It’s not even about the gifts. Maybe you need to see you can do a party … your way. Not his way.”

  “Hmmm. That’s sneaky, Remy.” She leaned in, rubbed her lips against his. “Very sneaky. I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  “You do that. And after they leave, we could have our own party—the sleepover kind.” He smiled against her mouth. “You like sleepovers, Hope?”

  “Sleepovers?” She laughed. Her laugh turned to a sigh as he slipped his fingers higher, higher along her thigh, brushing the edge of her panties. “What kind of sleepover did you have in mind?”

  “The kind where you run around in something skimpy and lacy and I peel it off you … then I fuck your brains out,” he muttered. Catching her lower lip between his teeth, he bit lightly. “You don’t have anything lacy on right now, but I could give you a demonstration … if you want.”

  “Why don’t you? Since you’re so keen on talking me into parties.”

  Remy eased her off his lap.

  She stood, but when he went to reach for the waistband of her shorts, she glanced at the naked windows. “No curtains.”

  “Turn off the lights,” he said quietly. “Nobody will be able to see in. Tomorrow, we’ll head out and get the curtains.”

  She blushed, but did just that. She wasn’t not having him touch her the entire weekend—she should have bought the damn curtains.

  The lights clicked off, casting the room into shadows. Remy’s eyes adjusted just as she came back to stand in front of him and he caught the waistband of her shorts, stripped them off, but left the panties on. Maybe the barrier would help him slow down a little. Tugging her back down onto his lap, he stripped her shirt and bra away. Immediately, he wished he’d thought about curtains, because damn it, he wanted to see her. Even though he’d seen her slender, sweet body before, it wasn’t enough. A hundred times, a thousand times wouldn’t be enough.

  Trailing his fingers along the delicate line of her back, he whispered, “I’m really getting addicted to you, Hope.” Tangling his fingers in her hair, he tugged her head to the side and raked his teeth down the exposed line of her neck.

  Her breath hissed out of her. Her spine arched. Smiling against her soft skin, he flicked his tongue along her, tasting salt and woman. “You like that?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “There’s nothing you do that I don’t like.”

  “Nothing, huh?” Intoxicated by the taste of her, he shifted around and spilled her back onto the couch, maneuvering until he was half-kneeling, half-lying on the couch with her, sprawled between her spread thighs. “Let’s see how you like this, then.”

  She gave a strangled groan when he pressed his mouth to the silk-covered mound of her sex. He could feel her heat through her panties, but she grabbed his hair, tried to press her thighs together. “Remy …” she whimpered.

  Shooting a glance at her, he pressed a kiss to the soft flesh inside her leg. “Problem?”

  “I haven’t showered since this morning. I’m hot and sweaty from all the moving …”

  “Yeah. Me, too. We can shower later. After.”

  “But …”

  “No buts,” he muttered. Then he kissed her again. When he licked her through the silk, she moaned. Catching the fabric, he tugged it aside and licked her again. “Hot … fuck, yeah, you’re hot.”

  Hope shuddered and fisted her hands in his hair again. But this time, she tugged him closer, gasping out his name.

  He smiled against her and then proceeded to do to her what she’d been doing to him from the first time he’d laid eyes on her—driving him out of his fucking mind.

  In moments, he had her twisting and groaning against him. When he pushed a finger inside her sheath, she cried out his name. He started to work her with both his mouth and his fingers and she came, so hard, and clenching down around him so tight, his cock jerked in jealous anticipation.

  As she sagged against the couch, he sat back on his heels, reaching into his pocket. He’d planned ahead for this, thankfully. If he’d had to get up and walk away from her, even just to get a rubber, it might have crippled him. Severely.

  He fought with his jeans, the damn rubber, and all of it took too long. By the time he was ready for her, he hurt with need, and he was hovering almost on the verge of climax himself just from looking at h
er. She reached for him and it was like she’d wrapped a fist around his heart with that simple gesture.

  It hit him then.

  He loved her.

  He was fucking in love with this woman. Not just falling in love, but all the way in love with her, and he didn’t ever want to let her go. Shaken, he reached for her. Drew her close.

  Need. Lust.

  It was a burning, twisting tangle inside him, and it almost faded as the ache in his heart rose to the front. Reaching up, he fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her head back. “Hope … I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

  Her soft, pretty mouth parted. Tears glimmered in the depths of her eyes.

  “… what?” she whispered.

  “I love you.” Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to hers. “You don’t need to say it back, although damn it, I hope you do, or can, one day. But I needed to tell you.”

  “Remy …”

  “Shhhhh.” He kissed her again. Soft. Slow. Teasing her mouth into opening for him. He felt something wet against his cheek. Skimming his mouth along her cheeks, he realized she was crying. He kissed the tears away, then returned to her mouth.

  She shuddered under him, arched.

  As she did, he felt the heat of her rubbing against his cock and he groaned. Shifting his weight to one arm, he reached down, wrapped one hand around himself, angled against her entrance. As he slid inside, her breath caught on a sigh. “Remy …”

  “I love you,” he muttered against her mouth.

  Already, it was an ache in his chest, a burning, driving ache that would consume him.

  She rocked up to meet him. Her hands streaked up under his shirt, bit into his flesh—tiny, sweet little pains. Her hips rose against his, the silken flesh of her sheath clenched around him. Hot, sweet …

  Tearing his mouth away, he stared into glimmering green eyes.

  “I love you,” he muttered.

  And she cried out his name as she came.

  The sound of her cries, the feel of her climaxing around him, under him, was enough to send him over the edge and he slammed into her, swearing as his own orgasm hit hard and fast.