“But you can’t go out there by yourself. You don’t know who’s out there, or how many of them there are,” she protested.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be careful.”
A pounding on the door frightened her, and she jumped. His arms circled around her tighter. “Who is that?”
He pulled her closer, and cocked his gun. The click deafening in her ear. The front door opened and she held her breath.
“Mitch?” she heard Steve call out. “Are you guys here?”
Mitch relaxed his hold around and he exhaled. “Yeah, in the kitchen,” he returned.
Steve walked into the kitchen as Mitch pushed himself to his feet. Mitch reached out and helped Juliana from under the table, and she stood next to him. He turned on the light and Juliana couldn’t believe the damage that had occurred in just seconds. Splintered wood, broken glass and dishes littered the floor.
“Are you guys okay?”
Juliana felt Mitch’s eyes look her over. She knew he was making sure she was unharmed, but she was suddenly aware of the fact that she was in her pajamas, which consisted of little more than a tiny pair of shorts, and a thin, white racerback tank top. The cool wind whipped in through the broken windows, and she looked down, and saw that her nipples were stiff peaks behind the white material. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Mitch walked into the living room and returned with his shirt from the floor, handing it to her. “Here, put this on. Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, and when he turned away, from her to talk to Steve, she noticed a trickle of blood had made its way down his back between his shoulder blades.
“Mitch, you’re bleeding,” she said.
He swiped his hand down his own back and pulled it away, seeing the blood on his fingertips. Steve took a quick look at him, but Mitch shook him off. “I’m fine. It’s probably just a cut from the glass, or when we dove under the table.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore,” Steve said and took a look around the kitchen. “Jesus, looks like an automatic weapon.”
“Sounded like one too. You were outside. Did you see who did it?”
“No,” Steve looked disappointed in himself. “I was in my car further up the street, and approached on foot after I heard the gunfire. I called it in on the way. I saw someone running through a backyard a couple of houses down, but I lost him after he disappeared into the treeline.” He looked disappointed. “I thought about giving chase, but I wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”
“So, just one shooter?”
“As far as I can tell.”
Mitch nodded. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. But Peter and Joe made it to the house first. They ran inside and met them in the kitchen.
“Holy shit,” the normally silent Joe Callahan muttered.
“And you guys are okay?” Peter asked, and Mitch and Juliana nodded. “Who did this?”
“Since Juliana witnessed a mob hit this morning, I’d bet all my money it’s related to that.” Before he could say more, other police and paramedics showed up. Mitch and his team went into cop mode.
“Jules, you should let a paramedic check you out,” Mitch told her. Peter brought him a shirt, and he pulled it on over his head.
“I’m okay,” she argued, but she relented at the look he gave her. The look that said do what I tell you. “Fine,” she said, realizing that she couldn’t argue with him on it. Even though she knew it wasn’t necessary, she walked over to the living where the EMTs had set up.
An hour later, Juliana watched from the couch as Mitch directed the policemen around the house and outside. He’d put on another shirt, and she was still wearing the one he’d given her. Every time she inhaled, she could smell him. There was something comforting, familiar, intimate about being wrapped up in his clothing.
She was lost in her thoughts of Mitch when he sat with her on the couch. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just great,” she told him, she told him with a rueful smile.
“I’m sorry that this happened. I let my guard down. I should have been more careful.”
“More careful? Mitch, you saved my life.”
“It shouldn’t have been in danger to begin with.”
“So. what do we do now?”
“We go somewhere else.”
“Another safe house?”
He appeared to think about the answer. “No.” He took a quick look around, and he lowered his voice. “I’m going to take you to my place. It’s a condo. It isn’t on the ground floor, and there’s a security guy, cameras. It’ll be safe.”
“Is a safe condo safer than a safe house?” she asked him, twisted humor turning her lips upward.
He laughed. “You must be exhausted.”
“Not really, I guess the adrenaline from my attempted murder is keeping me up right now.”
He frowned. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here.”
Peter walked over to them. “We’ve got dozens of shell casings, and some foot prints in the snow along the back of the house, but they go into the next yard and into tree line like Steve said. “They lead to a walking trail behind the house, then,” he shrugged, “he’s gone. The K-9 unit is on its way.”
“How did the gunman know the location of the safe house?” Mitch wondered aloud.
Peter shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
“Only people in the department know this address,” Mitch said.
“Think there’s a leak?”
“I hope not. But I can’t help but think about what Paddy Boyle told us a few months ago,” Mitch’s voice dropped and he looked around. Juliana inched closer to hear him. She wondered who Paddy Boyle was, and what he’d told them.
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Peter agreed.
Mitch took a deep breath and stepped closer. Three of them stood close together, and she was completely dwarfed by the two brothers. “Why don’t you three finish up here and look into a leak. This stays between us. I’m going to take Juliana out of here. She needs some sleep.” She tried not to pay attention to the way his protective, almost affectionate gaze made her feel.
“Sounds good. You should think about catching a few winks, yourself,” Peter suggested. “You want anyone to accompany you?”
“No, not right now. Not until we know what’s going on, and who we can trust. And I want you guys here investigating. Me and Jules will go alone, and I’ll call you when we get there.” Mitch turned to her. “I hope your bag is still packed.”
Juliana nodded. “I’m good to go. I just need to change.”
“Okay, go do that, and we’ll be on our way.”
She went into the bedroom, and simply pulled on a pair of yoga pants over her shorts, and when she came back to the living room, Mitch left the small huddle of teammates, and walked toward her.
“You ready?”
She took a final glance around the wreckage of the small room. “Hell, yes.”
He waved to the team and led her to the garage. When they were inside his truck, she turned to him. “We aren’t going to your apartment, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to your apartment. Look at what happened here. I nearly got you killed, and the kitchen is trashed.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it was the fault of the mobster that wants me dead.”
“We’re just going to be more careful. That won’t happen again.”
She looked around, noticing for the first time that they were going alone. “It’s just the two of us? We’re going alone?”
“Why? You don’t think I can keep you safe?”
Juliana remembered the way he’d covered her, and the injury he’d received on his back doing so. “I have no doubts about your ability to keep me safe,” she said. “But don’t many hands make light work?”
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling. “It doesn’t feel like work.”
She watched him f
or a moment. “Do you think another cop gave up our location?”
He pulled his truck onto the road, and drove away from the commotion that still remained at the safe house on the once quiet street. “You heard that?” he asked. She thought he might not respond further, but when he did, his voice was low. “Yeah. We heard from a CI, a confidential informant, a few months ago, that there might be some loose lips and morals in the department. We didn’t want to believe it, but after tonight I’m starting to think that might actually be the case. That safe house location should have been secure, secret.”
“Knowing that, how are you supposed to trust anyone to have your back?”
“I generally don’t.”
She frowned. “What about your brother? Your team?”
He turned to face for a second. “Those men, I trust with my life.”
“And mine?” she asked him.
He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Chapter 11
As Mitch drove to his apartment, he was unable to keep his eyes from the rear-view mirror. He was cautious, maybe a little too cautious. Maybe even a touch paranoid. But he didn’t care. It would be idiotic for anyone to tail him that late at night, with the roads as empty as they were. The drive to his condo, spent circling around side streets and a short time on the ring of highway that circled the city, while uneventful, took him three times as long as it normally did. By the time he turned into the underground parking lot of his building and turned off the truck he saw that, thankfully, Juliana had fallen asleep.
Back at the safe house when she went to change her clothes, he’d been relieved, but all she’d done was put on a pair of skin-tight yoga pants that showed off her lean, shapely legs and ass, and she was still wearing his shirt over that nearly see-through tank top that she had worn to bed, and he could tell by the unrestrained movement of her breasts that she still wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. He watched her for a moment, to see her chest rise and fall with every breath.
Not like he hadn’t seen her naked before. Why hadn’t he told her that he was the man she was meeting at the club. Goddammit, the situation had become more fucked up than he could have imagined. The text message he’d gotten earlier that night from Leather & Lace was still on his phone. She’d wanted to meet him that night. She’d needed her Mr. Fox, and after seeing the message, it took every ounce of restraint he’d possessed to not go into the bedroom and see if there was anything he could do for her that didn’t involve a mask.
Mitch watched her sleep for a moment, reluctant to wake her, but he knew that he had to get her safely inside of his apartment, and the quicker the better. He reached out and lightly cupped her shoulder, shaking her gently.
“Hey Jules,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
She jolted awake with a start. Confused at first, but he saw the clarity come over her as her eyes focussed on him. “What’s going on?”
“We’re here,” he told her.
“Where?” her voice was still clouded with sleep.
“We’re at my apartment.”
She looked out the windshield at the parking garage. “Oh sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”
“Yeah, you did. Come on. Let me get you to bed.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and her eyes widened, despite her fatigue.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean-”
She nodded. “It’s okay, I get it. It’s late. Well, it’s technically early, I guess,” she corrected herself.
“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” he agreed, getting out of the car, and retrieving her bag in the back.
After making their way up to his floor in the elevator, and down the long hallway to his door, he opened it, and let her into his home. He’d left the heavy curtains open and the orange glow from the rising sun filled his apartment. He closed each of the blackout curtains, darkening the room against the glare, and he turned on an overhead light. While he had two bedrooms, he used his spare as an office. He glanced at the closed door. The futon there would suffice for him, and there was no way that he would let her see the mugshots and crime scene photos that filled that room, so he led her down the hall to his master bedroom.
“This will be your room,” he said, walking inside and turning on the lamp by the bed. When he turned, he saw that she was still standing in the hallway outside the door. “It has dark shades so you can relax and pretend it isn’t dawn.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take your room.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a futon in my office. That’s fine for me.”
Mitch wasn’t sure if he imagined the longing look in her eyes, as she looked from him to his bed. He figured that she must have been exhausted. Giving up the battle, she took a couple of steps into the room, and removed his shirt that she was wearing, passing it back to him.
He walked to the door to leave and head for his office, but she was standing in his way, blocking the blocking his exit. “If you need me, I’ll be in the next room down.” He brushed past her, her skin frigid next to his. He stopped, feeling the chill from her skin. “You’re freezing.” He grasped her bare forearms and rubbed his hands over them in an effort to warm her. She started to shiver and he pulled her shaking body to his, to keep her warm until the shock going through her system wore off.
Her heard her sob and pulled her closer, tighter, as she cried into his chest. He knew that there was no way he could erase the memories of what had happened to her over the past twenty-four hours, but he would do anything to help her cope. Even though it was only a few meters to the bed, he lifted her and carried her. Her arms around his neck were gripping him tightly and he removed one arm from her so he could pull back the sheets. He lowered her onto the bed, and covered her up. Sitting beside her, he reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing away some of the tears that had fallen.
Propped on his pillows, she sniffed as she tried to look away. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally break down like that.”
“It’s okay to let it out. You’ve gone through a significant amount of trauma today. Anyone would break down.” He reluctantly stood, and walked away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Mitch?” she called to him as he was almost to the door.
He turned. “Yeah?”
She didn’t say anything for a while. He stood by the door and watched her until she looked up at him again. “Can… can you stay? Can you stay in here with me? I don’t really want to be alone.”
He hesitated. Would he be able to sleep with her in the same bed without touching her? Still, she was there – in his apartment, in his bed - because she trusted him to protect her; this wasn’t a romantic end to a date night. She needed him. “Yeah,” his response little more than a breathless whisper. “Yeah, if you want me to.”
He shut the door to his room, and he took a deep, calming breath. The idea of sharing a bed with her still sent a rush of arousal straight to his cock, which began to thicken in his boxers. He waited to get himself under control before he undid the button at the top of his jeans and lowered them to the floor. Deciding to leave his shirt on, he removed his shoulder holster and dropped it on the bedside table.
He pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed, and got in, careful not to touch her. Because he knew that if he touched her he might not be able to stop himself from pulling her to him, kissing her. Her slight weight dipped the mattress a little beside him. The bed was a king size, and even though there was about a foot of space between them, he was very acutely aware of her presence, her warmth, her scent, the sound of her even breath. He looked over. In the small bands of sunlight coming around the edge of the dark curtains, he could see that she was already asleep. He smiled and closed his eyes, as the weariness and fatigue from the day’s events finally caught up with him. He could finally sleep. As long as Juliana was beside him, in his bed, he knew that she would be safe.
Chapter 12
Juliana snuggled closer to the source of heat and comfort tha
t was pressed against her. She gently moaned with pleasure, as two thick arms encircled her waist. Her mind slowly drifted up from the depths of a deep sleep to become aware of her immediate surroundings. It didn’t feel like her bed, nor did it smell like her bed, and there certainly wasn’t normally a man in her bed. Something strange was going on.
Her eyes and brain cleared when she realized that she wasn’t actually in her bed, and she remembered that she was in Mitch Swanson’s, and that in a fit of tears and exhaustion, she had asked him to stay with him. And it dawned on her, that he was at that moment, curled around her body, her back to his chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She wasn’t sure at what point during her sleep that she’d ventured over onto his side of the bed, to curl into his chest and allow herself to be scooped up into his arms.
She looked around his room, and she could see that it was tastefully decorated in shades of grey. It was simple, clean, so tasteful and wonderfully masculine. And his mattress was something magical. She knew that a man like Mitch would treat his bedroom as his sanctuary, and a part of her wondered how many women, if any, he’d been invited to sleep in his bed. But she tried to forget about that. His personal life, his sex life, was none of her business.
Juliana shifted in his arms and the movement must have awoken him. He instantly let her go, and she almost whined when her body chilled with his absence, and she missed him, wanted him still wrapped around her. He sat up, turning away from her, putting his feet firmly on the floor, while she rose on her own side.
“Good morning,” she muttered. They each stood facing each other, with the large bed between them. Her face coloured with embarrassment. She’d allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, she’d sobbed into his chest, and she’d sought the warmth of his arms.
“Morning.” He said, his voice gruff.
The air between them was rife with tension. “What time is it?” she asked.
He picked up his cellphone that was lying on the night stand, next to his gun, and he checked the display screen. His back was still to her. “Uh, it’s just after noon. Why don’t you go back to sleep? I can pull together some lunch for us.” He stood.
Double Shot to the Heart (Brewed Moon Book 2) Page 7