Jock wouldn’t be by her side for the rest of her life. If she had any self-preservation or respect, she’d thank him for showing her real pleasure and go back to how they’d been. She didn’t want to ice him out—she was grateful after all, and he didn’t deserve that—but she couldn’t turn into a stage-five clinger on the guy. His rejection the first time? Stung. His rejection a second time? Permanent damage.
Her stomach protested the grease, and she dropped her uneaten crust into the box. Like a dog, Jock’s head went up and his gaze zeroed in on the crust. “You gonna finish that?”
She bit back a smile. “No. You want it?”
Yes, he did. He was looking at it like it was candy.
She placed it back on her plate and took it over to him. He snatched it up and ate half of it in one bite. That had been a large slice. Goddamn it, why was his eating like Cookie Monster endearing? Knock it off, Fiona.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” was his answer.
She dropped the plate in the trash. “I’m sorry? What’s tomorrow morning?”
He typed something into his phone. “We leave. Got a place outside DC we can stay. Wren and Roarke are there now getting it kitted out for us.”
“‘Kitted out’?”
His eyes sliced to her before returning to his phone. “Security.”
This all felt…this all felt like too much. So many people were involved and for what? For her? That man in the park, no matter what he’d been planning, had died because of her. How many more until this was all over?
Doubt and insecurity swamped her like a rising tide. Maybe she should just go, get on a plane to the Caribbean and hide away in a small village. A place with bad Wi-Fi. But with what money, Fiona? She sank down onto the edge of the bed, feeling helpless. She didn’t even have money to buy a plane ticket.
What if she just…let herself get caught? Maybe she could take the place of another young girl, someone who could stay innocent…
“Stop!” came a barked voice, and Fiona jerked, the sound breaking her out of her thoughts. She stared at Jock, who had twisted in his chair and was sending her a wicked glare.
She glanced around the room. “Are you talking to me?”
“You think I’m talking to Sundance?”
“Well, I didn’t do anything that would require you to yell at me.”
“No?” His voice was low, threatening. “Tell me what you were just thinking.” She hesitated a beat too long in answering. He turned to face her, the old chair squeaking under his weight. “Fiona—”
“No,” she snapped right back as anger welled in her blood. “You don’t get to demand what I’m thinking. My thoughts are mine, and I’ll tell them to you if I want to!” She ended on a shout, expecting Jock to fire back. Instead his expression lightened, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a smile began to form on his face. “Why are you smiling?” she huffed.
“I like it when you let out some of that fire in you,” he said.
That…ugh, why did that turn her on a bit? She turned away from him and crossed her arms across her chest.
He didn’t speak for a while, but he didn’t move either. “Will you tell me what you’re thinking, Fiona?” He paused. “Please.”
He hadn’t kept secrets from her, had he? He wasn’t forthcoming with information, but he answered when she asked. He’d done nothing deceptive. Despite her claim that her thoughts were her own—they were!—she also found herself confessing to him. Because he was Jock, and he knew how to care for her no matter what baggage she laid at his feet.
She called to Sundance, and he jumped off the bed before dropping to his haunches at her side. She ran her fingers through his thick fur.
“I don’t feel worthy of all this,” she said, not looking at Jock but instead into Sundance’s kind eyes. “You. The money you are spending that I will repay some day. Wren and Roarke’s time. I’m just one person. I’m not going to cure cancer. My last job was to make a quiz on BuzzFeed for readers to find out which Game of Thrones character they were. And you…you probably do amazing things, worthy things, you probably put bad people behind bars and protect good people…”
Fuck, the tears were dripping down her face. She didn’t even notice until Sundance flinched as one landed on his nose. “And instead you’re spending time with me.” She ran out of steam then and fell silent.
There was no movement out of the corner of her eye. No squeak of the chair, no hand motion, no sharp, deep voice. Nothing. He was watching her, though. She felt the searing heat of his gaze on her like the needles of a tattoo gun. Branding her.
Finally she lifted her head. That’s when he spoke, his voice so deceptively quiet that she wondered if she’d finally pushed him over the edge. “Do you not think you are good people?” he asked.
He didn’t wait for an answer. “I realize I haven’t been forthcoming about my past, but you shouldn’t be under the delusion that I’m some saint, that I’m out here doing God’s work or some shit. I’m not King Arthur, babe. I do bad shit, and I do good shit, and in the end, hope the scales are balanced toward the good. Not so sure that’ll ever be the case, though.”
She swallowed and forced herself to meet him squarely in the eye.
“When we met, my goal was to protect you. That was it. Then it switched to revenge. But now? Fiona, I’ve been digging. You’re not the only woman they torment. And they’re still in operation. So don’t give me this ‘I’m one person’ bullshit because you’re not. You’re one of many. So these are bad guys that I want to do something worse to than put behind bars.”
She sucked in a breath. Of course, how could she have been so fucking selfish? “I didn’t…okay. I just worried this was all for me, and—”
“Stop you right there, sweetheart. If I tried to take down every sex trafficking ring in the world, I’d never get through a small fraction even if I lived until ninety and worked every day. So this one is personal, and that’s because it’s you, so I better not hear another fucking word about whether you are worthy.”
That was it, Jock had spoken, and she had no comeback, no retort. All she could do was fall into those blue depths and pray she didn’t drown. “Okay.”
With a nod, he whipped around and went back to work.
* * *
Fiona was keeping her distance. He let her. She had wounds to lick and things to sort in her head. He wanted to pull her close, though—kiss those full lips and cup her round ass, feel the press of her tits on his chest. But he didn’t. That meant she’d slept in a separate bed from him the night before. He’d never had problems falling asleep, but last night he’d stared at her still back for a good hour before his eyes finally closed.
This morning she was quiet, pensive. She wasn’t cold to him, but she didn’t act like they’d been naked together the day before. He’d never craved physical touch before. Sure, he liked it, but he’d never felt like he’d die if he didn’t get a woman’s hands on him. As they prepared to leave the hotel room, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I do something wrong?”
She jerked up from where she’d been stuffing her bag. “Sorry?”
“This…” He gestured at the distance between the two of them. “That my fault?”
“What’s your fault?”
Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he let it go? “The fact that you haven’t really looked at me at all and keep giving me those polite, vacant smiles.”
That exact smile faded from her face right now. She straightened and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Her hands twisted in the hem of her shirt, a long thing that she wore over tight leggings. “Jock, I—” She looked down at Sundance, who sat obediently at her feet. “No, you didn’t do anything. I just need some distance.”
He knew people played games, but Fiona wasn’t like that. She wasn’t trying to manipulate him, make him chase her or some dumb shit. She genuinely wanted space; he could see it in her eyes. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been alone
for a long time, and now he was in her face 24/7. It would take some adjusting. It was taking him some adjusting. “No problem.”
She looked sorry. “I—”
“Fiona, it’s fine. Matters to me if you’re uncomfortable. Take all the distance you need.”
She gulped and finally dropped the hem of her shirt she’d been twisting. “Thank you.”
Those two words. She said them a lot, and every time it squeezed his heart. And now his dick. With a nod, he hauled his bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She picked up her bag, grabbed Sundance’s leash, and then they were out the door while the sun was still rising over the horizon.
* * *
As he drove, Fiona closed her eyes and fell asleep. They’d had to wake up early and her hair was still damp from her shower. She smelled so fucking good, and he had to sit in this damn car surrounded by her scent. It was kinda torture.
He had to stop being so distracted by her, so instead of thinking of baseball stats to get his mind off Fiona and her body, he went through everything he’d been working on in the hotel. First, Tarr had taken care of the body in the park. Second, Roarke was kitting out the townhouse they’d be staying in. They’d debated between a remote location, like a cabin, or somewhere like a quiet neighborhood in a Virginia suburb. They’d settled on the latter, believing they’d be less likely to be caught unaware with nosey neighbors around. Jock didn’t like the idea of somewhere remote, where he could be ambushed by too many enemies. At the townhouse, only a few men could attack them without attracting too much attention. Jock could handle that all on his own even without a state-of-the-art security system.
When Fiona woke up, he needed to tell her that they would play the part of engaged couple. One of their stops today? To get her a ring.
It was late morning by the time she straightened and rubbed her eyes. She stretched on a yawn and then turned to him with sleep lines on her face. “Sorry, didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“Gotta stop to make,” was all he said in answer as he got off the highway.
“Oh? I hope it involves food.”
It did.
He parked at a mall, and Fiona frowned at it. “A mall?”
“They got food there, and jewelry stores.”
“Jewelry stores?”
“Need to get you a ring.”
She stared at him. “Jock, explain with full sentences.”
He twisted in his seat and draped his arm over the steering wheel. “We’re going to be living in a townhouse together. If anyone asks questions, like neighbors, we’re engaged.”
“Why do we have to be engaged? Why can’t we just live together as boyfriend and girlfriend? It’s 2018, not 1953.”
“I don’t want anyone fucking with us. You having a ring on your finger with me in public tells everyone else to just back the fuck off.”
“I think you overestimate the kind of male attention I get.”
“I don’t,” he retorted. “Now let’s go.”
Sundance couldn’t come with them, but it was a cool day so they kept the windows down, told him to stay, and left food and water. Jock didn’t plan to be long. They went right to a jewelry store, and even though Jock wanted to just point at one and buy it, he gestured to the case. “Pick one,” he said quietly so the sales associate didn’t hear.
Fiona whipped her head to face him. “What?”
“Pick a ring.”
She was still staring at him when the woman from behind the counter—her name tag said Bethany—flashed them a smile. “How can I help you?”
“We’re traveling, and my fiancée here left her engagement ring at home. We’d like something temporary.” He smiled, trying to pull out charm he didn’t have. “Don’t like seeing my woman’s finger naked.”
Bethany beamed, like that was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. “Of course! Well, I’d be happy to help. Is there a budget?”
He ignored her and looked back at Fiona, who was still gaping at him. “Pick a ring, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”
She snapped her jaw shut and blinked, and he could see when she forced herself to click into character. Her lips curved into a small smile as she stepped closer to the glass, where Bethany was eager to pull out expensive shit, he was sure.
Fiona pointed to a simple gold band with a small round diamond. “That one.”
Jock squinted at it and pointed to the one next to it, with a larger diamond. “That one.”
She whirled to face him. “Jamison,” she hissed.
Oh yeah, those fiery eyes and his name—right to his dick. “Fiona,” was all he said back on a smile.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “The one he pointed out, please,” she said to Bethany.
The woman pulled out the ring with manicured hands, and when she went to slide it onto Fiona’s finger, something in Jock made him pull Fiona’s hand away and hold out his, palm up.
Bethany froze, and he told himself to be a little less forceful. Talk, Jock. “I’d like to put it on her, if that’s all right.”
There was a feminine sigh, and he turned to see another sales associate looking at them with hearts in her eyes. Christ. Bethany dropped the ring in his palm. “Of course.”
He slipped it onto Fiona’s finger, and it fit surprisingly well. He twisted her hand back and forth. “Feel good?”
Fiona was staring at the ring, and she didn’t say a word.
“Like it?” Jock prompted.
Her gaze shot to his, and then she nodded. “Yes, it’s very pretty. Thank you.”
She needed to stop saying thank you, especially when they were in public. And because she was looking up at him with round eyes, her expression soft, he leaned down and kissed her. He kept it chaste, not because he wanted to but because he wasn’t sure if Fiona wanted his tongue in her mouth in the mall. When he pulled away, he saw Bethany and the other sales associate watching them as if they’d just kissed after being pronounced husband and wife.
He paid for the ring with cash and pulled Fiona out of the store with a firm grip on her hand. They made a beeline to the food court where he got a cheeseburger sub and she ordered a massive salad. They ate in the car with Sundance, who was thrilled to see them when they returned.
Fiona didn’t eat as much as he would have liked, and she spent a lot of the time rotating her hand to catch the sparkle of the diamond in the sunlight. When she took it off and slipped it into her purse, he frowned. “Why’d you take it off?”
“Well, I don’t need it on right now in the car, do I? And I don’t want to scratch it up any more than possible so you can resell it for close to its value.”
“Resell it?”
Her brows drew in. “Yeah, resell it when this is all done.”
He crinkled up the empty wrapper from his sub and tossed it into his small trash bin in the truck. “I’m not gonna resell it.”
“Wha—”
“It’s yours. You can resell it if you want, but I’m not taking it back.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Jock, what the hell? Why not?”
“Do I need a reason? I don’t want to.”
“You can’t just buy me a ring.”
He tilted up his chin. “Who says?”
She sputtered and blinked at him. “My God, you’re serious.”
After checking to make sure she had her seatbelt on, he put the car in gear. “Yup.”
She fell silent after that, and it took her five minutes—he counted down—before she reached into her purse and slid the ring back on wordlessly. He smiled at the windshield in front of him.
* * *
They reached the townhouse late in the day. By then the sun was setting, Jock’s shoulders were killing him from driving for too long, and he was fucking starving. He pulled into the driveway, and the garage door went up. He couldn’t even muster a smile for that, but he was pretty damn pleased Roarke had been watching for them.
He pulled inside an
d threw the truck in park just as the garage door started closing again. Fiona turned around to watch it. “Is that on a sensor or something?”
“Roarke,” he said in answer.
“Huh?”
“Roarke’s inside waiting for us.”
“Roar—” Her eyes widened. “Wait, does that mean—?”
The door to the house flung open, light spilling into the darkened garage. “Fionaaaa!” a voice shrieked and then a small figure with jet black hair leaped down the few steps and slid across the fucking hood, to land on the other side where she clasped a surprised Fiona in her arms.
Jock got out and raised an eyebrow at Roarke. He shrugged with a small grin on his face. “She’s been working on that move.”
Jock whistled to Sundance and grabbed their bags as the women were still embracing. Wren was stroking Fiona’s hair, and something about the loving way they looked at each other made Jock’s heart clench. Then they began to admire the ring, and he was done witnessing the reunion. They were safe in a place packed to the gills with security. The offense started now.
He brushed past Roarke and made his way into the house, Sundance at his heels. The women followed them and then split off so Wren could give Fiona a tour of the small townhouse.
Jock dropped their bags on the kitchen counter, immediately searched for the nearest pizza place, and ordered two large extra cheese pies with some wings. He nearly wept when he opened the fridge and found beer inside. He grabbed one and turned around to see Roarke perched on a stool in front of the small breakfast bar. “I see you got my housewarming gift.”
Jock twisted off the top and took a long pull. “Needed this.”
“Talk to me.”
“’Bout what?”
“Well, you were pretty adamant in your texts. Make this place like Fort Knox then prepare to work. So what’re we doing? And why can’t all this be done remotely?”
“Because I’m gutting the operation, and that means I gotta stay in the area.”
Darkest Night Page 12