Darkest Night

by Megan Erickson

  * * *

  Fiona stared at the heavy curtains over the window, listening to Jock moving about in the bathroom. For a large man he didn’t make much noise, but these walls were paper thin. Sundance lay on the bed at her feet, his muzzle on his paws, big body at rest. She knew he was worried about her, and if dogs could feel guilt she was sure he did. Not that what had happened to her was his fault, but he hadn’t been there and Sundance seemed to pride himself on being there for her.

  Jock walked out of the bathroom with his shirt clutched in his fist. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. He was massive. She knew that because she’d seen his muscles beneath his shirts, and she’d felt the hardness of his abs. But good Lord, he was a vision. Defined muscles, tanned skin that seemed at odds with his fair hair and blue eyes. He wore a thick black watch and a silver chain with some sort of pendant. And on the back of his upper right shoulder, an eagle soared with an American flag in its grip. Kinda cliché for a military tattoo, and maybe if they’d been other people in another life, she’d tease him about it.

  He ignored her, maybe thinking she was asleep. He kicked off his boots, tore off his socks, and dropped his pants.

  It’d been so long since she’d seen a man this naked. He only wore a pair of gray briefs that hugged his ass and generous package. After everything that had happened to her, this was a welcome distraction, and she didn’t even bother to hide the fact that she was ogling him. Not only was he pretty to look at, she also knew what that big body was capable of.

  He turned to look at her and stilled when he saw her eyes open. He didn’t move to cover himself, but his abs contracted as he inhaled sharply. Sundance raised his head, and Jock ruffled his ears with a big hand, still watching Fiona.

  He padded over to her on silent bare feet, and she didn’t move, only waited as he sat on the edge of the bed and gently probed her face. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened as she winced from the touch. “Least he didn’t break anything. Bruise’ll fade.”

  “How’d you know where I was?” she asked.

  “Marlene.”

  Did she call him? “How—”

  “I went to your door. I wanted to talk to you. I banged on your door for a while until Marlene told me you’d gone to the dog park.”

  He’d come to her door. He’d wanted to talk, after everything that had happened that night when she’d been buzzed on wine. “And you came.”

  “Had a bad feeling.”

  “Your instinct was right.”

  “Yup.”

  His fingers moved from her cheek to sift through her hair. He didn’t seem to realize he was doing it until she leaned into the touch and hummed contentedly. She’d also loved having her hair played with, once. He froze at her movement and withdrew his hand. “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure what okay is. I’m here, I’m alive. My mind hasn’t fractured into tiny pieces.”

  “We’ll talk more after we get some sleep.”

  “Can you just tell me where we’re going?”

  “To DC. To Roarke and Wren. Got some work to do here before we leave to look into what that man planned to do with you. Might stay a day or two.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re in Amish country,” he said. “Ever been?”

  She shook her head and he nodded. “Get you some food after you sleep. They eat well here.”

  “Okay,” she said again, lulled by the softness in his voice. Her body felt heavy, sinking into the mattress.

  He stood up and her gaze lingered on his body as he lifted the covers of the other bed and slid inside. He turned out the light, and she watched his large form roll to face her.

  “Jock,” she called after a minute.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy.

  Shit, she knew she should let him sleep instead of bugging him. Why was she being needy? “Never mind.”

  “What?” He turned on the lamp between them, sending a soft yellow light across his harsh features.

  “It can wait. I’ll let you sleep.”

  “Fiona,” he growled, “just—”

  She huffed. “Why did you come to my door?”

  He stared at her, his brows slightly turned in as if he hadn’t expected that question. His fingers were curled around the edge of the mattress, and they slowly clenched before relaxing. “I wanted to see you.”

  “To make sure I was all right?”

  His gaze searched her face. “That wasn’t the primary reason, no.”

  She shifted to the edge of her mattress. They were as close as they could get while still remaining in their own beds. “Then why?”

  His nostrils flared, and he seemed to be weighing his next words. His tongue crept out to push at the corner of his lips. Finally he spoke. “I wanted to be near you.”

  That was it, six words. Six words that flayed her open. “Jock.”

  He rolled onto his back, breaking eye contact. “Go to sleep, Fiona.”

  “Jock.”

  “Sleep.”

  “Jock.”

  He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Go. To. Sleep.”

  “Jamison,” she whispered.

  He dropped his arms back to the bed on two soft thumps then turned his head to face her.

  She smiled at him, even though the stretch of muscles hurt her bruised face. “I wanted to be near you, too.”

  He held her gaze for a long time, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Finally he spoke, his voice a deep rumble that soothed her. “Sleep, Fi.”

  “Okay, Jock.”

  He turned off the light, rolled over, and she stared at the bare skin of his back, at the large eagle inked on his right shoulder, until sleep took her under.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Fiona woke, the clock in the room said noon. She still felt bone tired, like she could have slept another twelve hours. She rolled onto her back and heard the rattling of Sundance’s collar. His wet nose nudged her elbow, and she dropped a hand to the side of the bed to scratch his ears.

  The tapping of keys drew her attention, and she lifted onto her elbows to see that Jock had turned the corner of their small room into a damn control center.

  She’d known he had computer skills—he’d said as much, based on all he’d done to secure her life—but it was still a shock to see his large body hunched over his laptop. His legs were braced far apart, and he only wore a pair of jeans. His hair was damp and the air smelled like soap. His feet were bare, and the sight of him sitting there with all that skin exposed sent a bolt of heat down her spine. She was going to have to talk to him about wearing more clothing.

  The bed frame made a cracking noise as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. Jock swiveled his head to her, his gaze raking her body, lingering on her bare legs before lifting back to her face. She hadn’t bothered with the sweatpants he’d laid out for her, choosing to strip down to her underwear and an oversized T-shirt. Maybe she should have worn the sweatpants.

  She cleared her throat. “Morning. Or afternoon.”

  His eyes went a little soft. “Coffee and sandwich by the TV for you.”

  She looked to where he pointed to see a massive coffee in black Styrofoam and a small wax-paper bundle. “You left to get food?” How had she not heard him?

  “Had it delivered to the front desk, tipped the receptionist to bring it to us.”

  “Oh.” That was nice. Her stomach growled as she stepped onto the carpet. “Thank you. Sundance fed?”

  “Yep.”

  He was back to his computer. She sat on the edge of the bed, sipping the coffee and munching on her sandwich. It was good—bacon, egg, and cheese on a croissant. She didn’t recognize the name on the wrapper so the food must have come from some local place. She fed some of the leftover bacon to Sundance and then walked to her suitcase. “I’m going to shower.”

  “Hot water knob is sketchy. Give it time before you step in to make sure it doesn’t burn you.”
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  He said all this without looking at her. She held her clothes to her chest, staring at the back of his blond head. Did he realize how much he went beyond the call of a normal protector? He was worried about her burning herself in the shower. Maybe another person would find him overbearing or controlling. But to Fiona…well, she’d spent so much time on her own without anyone watching out for her. So the way he treated her was like having the sun shining on her face.

  She remembered what he’d said, that she was latching on to him because he was someone she could trust, that she could depend on, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t only because of that. It was the whole package.

  “Jock.”

  He grunted.

  “Jock,” she said again. Finally he turned, and when their eyes locked his large body stilled. She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  He held her gaze for a long time before he gave her a nod and turned away. Satisfied that she’d conveyed what she wanted to, she went to shower.

  The hot water was in fact a little touchy. It took a long time to warm up and surged a couple times with a temperature spike. So once she got the temperature where she wanted it, she didn’t touch the damn thing.

  It felt good to get clean. She lathered her hair twice just because it felt so nice, and shaved and coated her body in her favorite honey-scented shower gel.

  After her shower, she dried off, pulled on a pair of jeans and a top, and wrapped her hair in one of the motel towels. After moisturizing her face, she walked out to find Jock hadn’t moved.

  He did that head-to-toe scan thing he always did and patted the chair next to him. She sank down into it and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. He turned away from his computer and leaned into her space. She froze as his hand came up to brush her bruised cheek. His eyes went dark, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Getting darker.”

  She swallowed. “I can put makeup on it. That’ll do the job of covering it up.”

  “When we leave, yeah. Don’t want to draw attention.”

  “Okay.”

  He squeezed her knee and turned away.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

  “Thought about driving straight through to DC, but I wanted to give Roarke a heads-up first. Did that this morning, and now I’m checking on your apartment security, seeing if anyone has been by.”

  Fiona bit her lip. “I hope Marlene stays in her apartment and doesn’t try to be a hero if anyone comes around.”

  Jock shook his head. “Called her son. He’s on his way up to visit her. Might take her home with him for a bit. She’ll be fine.”

  Oh God, Fiona’s heart was going to burst. “That’s…that’s perfect. Thank you for thinking of her.”

  Jock looked down and away, the praise clearly making him uncomfortable. “Woman makes good brisket.”

  Fiona smiled.

  “So, we stay here another night. Roarke’s gonna find us a place to stay in DC that’ll be easy to hide away.” His eyes cut to her sharply. “Game’s changed, babe. We go from defense to offense now. All you gotta do is hang tight until we win.”

  “Oh,” she said softly.

  “Let me get some more things done here. Drink your coffee, do your face up, then we’ll get you out of here. Take a walk, get some more food. Okay?”

  She felt a bit like she was floating. She’d steered her own boat for so long, and she was so damn weary. Amazing how someone else making the decisions made her feel more free. How was that possible? She wasn’t sure, but it was. “Okay, Jock.”

  “You all right?”

  “I’m good.”

  He reached out and pulled on the towel until it slipped from her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and he ran his fingers through the damp ends. “Good girl,” he said, so quietly she barely heard the words. She closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle tug on her scalp. Was this what Sundance felt like when she rubbed his ears? She needed to do it more often. Eventually the hand in her hair withdrew and the typing resumed. She opened her eyes to watch him as he worked intently, fingers flying across the keyboard. The screen changed fast as he switched from window to window to window.

  Maybe she should have been more scared or worried, but she knew that she was better off right now, in this motel in nowhere Pennsylvania, than she’d been in ten years on her own. Jock was wrong. He wasn’t made of dirt. He was something else, like rock hard steel. Glistening metal. She saw it all. And she’d work herself to the bone to make sure he saw it, too.

  * * *

  When Fiona emerged from the bathroom, the bruise was hidden beneath makeup. Jock tilted her face this way and that, but he couldn’t see it. “Got skills,” he said.

  She smiled. “I’m a little rusty on makeup application. I used to wear it a lot but not so much anymore. Glad I still got it.”

  Jock had thrown on a shirt while she was in the bathroom, and now he sat down on the end of the bed to tie his boots. Sundance danced near the door, eager to go outside. “So where are we going?” Fiona asked.

  “There’s a park nearby where we can take Sundance. Also a couple of shops. Soft pretzels, smoothies, coffee. Not sure what things are going to be like once we get to DC so…” He let his voice trail off.

  “So enjoy some things now?” she finished for him.

  “Yeah, that’s about it.”

  Fiona clipped on the leash, and after Jock stuck a gun in his boot—when Fiona wasn’t looking—they left. The park behind the motel was an annex of an industrial complex, and the grounds were well taken care of. It was a weekday afternoon so not many strolled the pathways or lounged in the gazebos, but they saw a few people.

  Sundance was happy to be outside and enjoyed exploring his new surroundings. After grabbing some soft pretzels and smoothies, they retreated to a shaded gazebo. Fiona poured some water for Sundance into a portable dog water dish, and then they sat in silence, enjoying the slight breeze and relatively cool shade.

  Fiona looked more relaxed than he’d seen her since they’d met. She sipped her drink and poked at a praying mantis, then gave Sundance some of her soft pretzel. She caught Jock watching her and said, “I know, I know. People food is bad, but he’s such a good boy and so I give him treats. I swear I don’t do it a lot. Don’t judge me.”

  He hadn’t said one word about what she fed Sundance. The dog was hers. “I don’t care what you feed him.”

  “Oh,” she said, and her cheeks colored.

  “Had a dog when I was a kid, fed that thing under the table every day even though my mom told me not to. He lived to be fifteen years old and died when he got hit by a car, so whatever. Feed the dog bacon if he wants it. Who gives a fuck.”

  Fiona’s lips twitched. “That’s what vets say, by the way.”

  “What do they say?”

  “‘Feed the dog bacon if he wants it.’” She lowered her voice and puffed out her chest, imitating him. “‘Who gives a fuck?’”

  She was funny, but he refused to laugh. “That what I sound like?”

  “What do you think, Sundance?” she asked the dog. “Was that a good Jock impression?”

  Sundance blinked his eyes at her.

  “Sundance says yes,” she announced.

  “That so?”

  “Yep, we have a system.”

  He hummed under his breath and gulped some of his smoothie.

  “So…what was your dog’s name?” She asked the question tentatively, like she knew probing into his life might not be welcome.

  It usually wasn’t, but this was Fiona. She probably didn’t realize it, but he’d let her in more than he had anyone. “His name was Rex. He was a mutt. Lab and something mixed. We were never sure.”

  She inched closer and closed her lips around her smoothie straw, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked up the drink. He tried in vain not to look. “Where’d you grow up?” she asked.

  They were doing this, the whole backstory thing. Whatever. “Trailer park in Indiana. Lived there with
my mom, older brother, and Rex. Yes, my mom’s still alive. No, we aren’t super close although I send her money every month. She refuses to leave her trailer park because she’s screwing the maintenance guy. I haven’t seen her in years.” And he didn’t say a goddamn word about his brother.

  Fiona didn’t say anything for a long time, and he didn’t look at her. He hated talking about himself, and most especially his past, but he had to admit it felt kinda good to purge it all. He popped the cap off his smoothie, poured the rest in his mouth, and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

  He avoided Fiona’s eyes. He didn’t want pity or understanding or…anything, really. He didn’t want to deal with the naked emotion he’d see in her expression because she wasn’t good at hiding anything. So instead he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

  Silence followed, and normally he would have been perfectly happy with that, but something about this silence was thick, cloying, suffocating. He finally lowered his head and opened his eyes to see Fiona staring off into the park, biting her lip. She turned to face him and it was obvious she was struggling to find the right words. “Sorry about your mom.”

  Yeah, he was sorry, too. Every goddamn day. “Thanks.”

  She took the hint, nodded, and didn’t ask questions about his brother. A breeze blew through the gazebo, lifting her hair so the ends tickled his arms. He could smell her shampoo—a sweet, fresh scent. Fuck, he’d never paid attention to the way a woman’s hair smelled before. This was all kinds of fucked up, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. If she hadn’t gone to the dog park, if they hadn’t had to leave town, if they were two people without messed up lives…What would have happened when he knocked on her door last night?

  With a sigh, Fiona scooted over until their thighs touched, and then she leaned her head onto his shoulder, relaxing her body against his. He tensed for a brief moment before forcing himself to loosen up.

  When he’d observed her, he’d noticed how she avoided physical contact with anyone. But she voluntarily touched him. She’d done it when they went to the street fair, and she did it now. He didn’t have a whole lot of experience with sexual assault survivors. He’d done research while preparing to protect Fiona, but every person was different. And reading articles from therapists—where everything was black and white—was nothing compared to dealing with an actual, real-life person. Fiona wasn’t a statistic or a case study. She was a person with a past, present, and future.