“Why would I need sympathy? Just because I’m a woman?”
“Of course not.”
“And according to your rationale, swearing is the primary way to show power? What about mercy? Like in Count of Monte Cristo. He plotted and fought for years for power over those who wronged him, only to show mercy in the end upon the realization he didn’t need vengeance. Isn’t that real power?”
“I never said it was the only way to show power. But it is one way. My point is you don’t have to yield to the stereotypes of the ‘fairer sex’ or being ‘ladylike.’ Take ownership of your passion.”
She openly stared at him as he took another sip of wine. That might be the most insightful thing she’d heard all year.
“In fact, at some point, my green-eyed Bell, you will swear for me.” He scooped another bite into his mouth.
She shook her head, secretly liking the nickname he gave her. “Oh, no. No, I won’t.”
“You don’t have to use the F-word, but maybe ‘damn’ or ‘hell.’ You’ll see.”
The warmth in her cheeks crept to her neck and across her chest.
“But, you’re changing the subject.” He got up to help himself to another plate of food.
“I did?”
“Sure did. I was asking about your boyfriends. Spill the beans.”
Oh geez. Did she have to? She inhaled deeply. “The groom missing from those pictures is Todd. I was twenty-four, he was twenty-five. Love at first sight, cliché as it is.” She took a bite, and he waited patiently.
“Not all-consuming kind of lustful passion displayed in most movies, but the comfortable love. Safe. Felt like coming home. We had so much in common: books, church, common upbringings, love of crossword puzzles. Anyway, after dating ten months, he proposed. Our families were thrilled. We got married at Saint Mary’s and moved in here.”
She sipped her wine. Retelling the story wasn’t the hard part. It was the humiliation at the end that killed her. Reliving the embarrassment. “I was so happy. I had everything I wanted. Ready to start a family, the whole Hallmark card come to life. I thought Todd was happy too.”
“Oh shit.”
“It’s not what you think.” She picked at a dent in her table. “We were married about two years. Todd came home one day and threw me a curveball. He said he wanted to do mission work. In Kenya.”
Jace’s eyebrow rose. “Africa?”
She nodded. “He said he had a calling. God had spoken to him and told him to help the poverty-stricken in Kenya. As his wife, he assumed I would go with him. He never bothered mentioning this to me while we were dating. Maybe we should have waited longer before tying the knot,” she mumbled. The regret over her foolishness was still raw.
“Anyway, I told him I couldn’t go. I didn’t have the same calling. My life is here. I love this town, the mountains, the people. The thought of sharing a life here, raising our kids here, brought joy to my heart. It was all I ever wanted.”
“Did Todd know that?”
She nodded again. “I guess he just assumed that dream could come true anywhere. Maybe it could’ve. I prayed over it for a long time, and in the end, I couldn’t do it. But I also didn’t have the heart to force him to stay.”
She fought the foolish tears that threatened to shed. She was done crying over the man. He was long gone and not coming back, and she’d made peace with it.
“How long ago did he leave?”
“Two years ago.”
“What about the boyfriends since then?” He swallowed the last of his meal and sat back, spinning the stem of his wine glass in his long fingers.
“Boyfriends? Nope, none of those.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “No one? C’mon, Bell. Surely, there was a man, at least one that wined and dined you, perhaps a little dessert afterward?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
She leaned over and smacked his bicep, surprised she didn’t hurt her hand. “That is not my style.”
“Wait.” He sat forward. His face a mere twelve inches from hers, his espresso-colored eyes so deep, like he could see straight through her soul. “You were with one man? Only one? No one before, and no one after?”
Her cheeks warmed, she was sure they were beet-red.
Jace got down on a knee, swiveled her chair, and pulled her square in the front of him.
Her breath hitched. She should be scared half to death, but instead, she only felt intrigued.
“Bell.” His hands gripped the wooden chair, the heat radiating to her thighs. His eyes so intense. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He shook his head. “You are a woman any man would give his left nut to be with.” He pitched forward to whisper in her ear. “I would spend any possible free second making you feel like the queen you are.”
Her breath stalled. His hot breath on her skin did crazy things to her, sending tingles through her whole body.
“Making you feel every inch the woman you are. A man should crave a woman like you. Want to give her everything he had. Want to give her unending pleasure and passion just because she agreed to grace him with her presence.”
She exhaled a shaky breath like it was her last. Dear God. How could this man do this to her? This rough, foul-mouthed pile of tattooed muscle made her feel like her lady-parts were about to combust?
Intensity radiated off him like a pulsing sun. She expected him to lean in and kiss her any second. But he didn’t. Instead, he rose.
“Enough for tonight. I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back at nine in the morning. I’m gonna try to log in and see if I can’t pull any old reports Joe may have filed that are still in the system.” He set his plate in the sink, pecked the top of her head like he would to his sister or mother, and grabbed his leather jacket and helmet.
“I know you rarely lock your door, but you need to start now.” He sent her a wink as he closed the door behind him.
She stared at the empty entryway, breathless, her plate nearly untouched.
What was that?
What the hell was he thinking?
Jace slipped on his leather jacket, his mind on a runaway train of thoughts. Lynée’s ex should’ve been honest with her when they were dating that he’d had dreams that didn’t involve this tiny town. For her, it was home. He couldn’t just come in and expect her to drop her life here, her dreams, for such a major move.
No doubt, she was better off without the bastard, but the story pulled on Jace’s insides and twisted them like a knotted rope.
He swallowed hard. What is this woman doing to me?
This whole tangent was not essential to completing his task at hand.
Fuck! He should’ve just told her no when she “offered” to help. He’d always worked alone and for good fucking reason.
Sure, if he was honest with himself, every word he’d said to her was true. He would frickin’ worship her body. A body like hers, hiding under mounds of clothing, needed to be pleasured. But shit, did he need to say it out loud?
He may have had a fantasy or two about Lynée, but seriously, telling her any of this shit was problematic.
Ivy, you need to keep your head in the game. Quit staring at the blonde librarian.
Did this back-woods town have a gym? Jace needed to work off this excess energy. Then, maybe he could focus.
He drove to his motel, Cascade Creek Suites. He wouldn’t call them suites, but the bed was comfortable—big and plush.
No, he yelled at himself. No thinking about beds.
He changed his clothes and pulled up directions to the local YMCA. Perfect.
He scanned the parking lot before strapping on his helmet. In about two hours, he’d be covered in sweat without a thought in his head except the burn of his muscles stretching their limits.
Morning came too soon. He tossed and turned all night, probably jacked up on testosterone from his workout. At least he hoped that was the cause. He didn’t dare admit it could be from anything else, like a woman. One in particular.
Find the mole, nail th
e cartel, and get your ass back to Detroit, Ivy. That’s all you need to focus on.
He studied Monroe’s files on the cartel’s finances, one line item blending into another between all the dummy corporations and off-shore accounts. The man had apparently moved Cabello’s money around the world so many times, having them chase their cash for months. Impressive for a guy as young as he was. But this Huerta character was always on the DEA’s tail and wreaked plenty of his own havoc.
Jace didn’t mind research, and the real smoking gun was always in the details. But this level of minutiae was daunting. Would’ve driven him crazy in just a few hours. This guy had managed it for years.
When Jace arrived at Lynée’s doorstep, he could smell the cinnamon from outside.
She opened the door, her hair down and curly. Like a Blake Lively look-alike. Dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, again, that covered most of her body. Nothing for him to look at, nothing for him to think about.
Good move.
“Come in,” she spun toward the kitchen, leaving the door open. “I’m making French toast.”
“You’re making breakfast?” He closed the door behind him and followed her.
She grinned. “Every day. Don’t you?”
He gave her a don’t-sass-me look. “What’s that?” He leaned over her stove to some thick liquid in a pot.
“Maple syrup.”
“You make your own maple syrup too?” Dang!
“You sound surprised. It’s not that hard. Are you hungry?” She scooped up several slices, handing him the plate and a ladle for the syrup.
“I wasn’t, but this smells too good to pass up.” He helped himself, ladling on the hot maple syrup like it was ambrosia.
“Just push some of those papers aside. I’m going to borrow a six-foot folding table from the library so we can spread out all our files.”
He moved some stacks to the floor and glanced around her space.
She’d rearranged some things in her living room and taped a bunch of papers to the windows, like trying to use the glass as a makeshift timeline. The way she’d organized the room, she meant business. Like a new obsession.
He felt a pang of regret at how this case was affecting her life. It wasn’t her job; it was his. “Look, you don’t have to do all this.” He motioned with a flick of his thumb.
She took a seat at the table. “Whaddya mean? Of course I do. I told you. Skye and I are like sisters. She needs help, so I help.” She poured orange juice in two glasses. “Speaking of which, I’d like to borrow the phone, so I can call her today?”
He dropped his fork. “What?”
Lynée’s shoulders slumped. “I need to talk to her.”
“About what?”
“About anything. Everything. Does it matter?”
“Yeah,” he said, perhaps firmer than he’d intended. But Lynée was one card shy of a full deck if she thought he was just going to let her have a little girl-chat when they were supposed to be in hiding.
“We talk every day.”
“It’s only been two days,” he retorted.
Her little Tinkerbell lips pursed together, and her eyes widened like she was about to blow. “Look, if not today, then when? What if we have questions about the case? What if we need to bring them food? I need to talk to my friend, dammit. ”
His eyes widened.
Her hand flew over her mouth. “Oh no,” she mumbled behind her palm.
“Lynée Clark, did you just cuss?”
Her face was the color of rhubarb when his mom would make a fresh pie every spring. She didn’t say a word.
“I told you,” he strung out the words. “You would cuss for me one day. Didn’t have to wait long for you, did I?”
She lowered her hand. “Oh, my goodness. I need to go to church.”
He busted out laughing. This adorable little librarian had never sworn a day in her life, he’d bet. Two days with him had the swear words flyin’. “I’m so proud of you,” he said between his belly laughs.
“No. No, don’t be proud of me.” Her head shook vigorously, her lovely locks itching for him to rein them in a wrap of his fingers.
With an elbow on the table, he leaned in closer. “I’ll tell you what. You’ve been very convincing. I’ll grant you a five-minute phone call, but after we get some work done.”
Her eyes lit up at his words. Why that made him so fucking happy, he couldn’t say. He shoveled in a bite so he could focus on something else besides those perfect pink lips.
* * *
Lynée swished the warm, sudsy water around the pot in the sink, and let their plates dry on the rack on the counter. Jace read several reports she stumbled onto in Reed’s hard drives listing addresses of drop points and cartel safe houses Joe had identified last year on the border of Mexico and El Paso. One of which coincided with a human trafficking raid conducted by ICE, according to a news article she’d come across. In and of itself, that was nothing earth-shaking. But something about this article—the timing of the raids— and how it coincided with increased payments into the online gaming app’s shell companies had Lynée wondering. So she kept it open on her laptop as she stayed in the kitchen.
Creating distance between her and Jace was a good thing. After his little disclosure the day before and the promise he made if she only gave him the go-ahead, she knew she couldn’t be too close to him. He was scary. There, she’d said it. Not in a way where she feared for her life, but she feared for her body.
Criminy! His words, his mere presence sent a current of electricity through her body that should not be. Simply should not be.
Sure, he was a man, and she was a woman, so perhaps on some base level, there could be an attraction. But that was it—Lynée did not find him attractive. Beyond his insane muscles and confident smile, she couldn’t find anything attractive about the man. He could be rude and demanding and bossy. Not to mention his lack of tidiness and his potty-mouth.
She just wished he hadn’t whispered those things in her ear. A chill raced up her spine.
“This could be something,” Jace called from the living room.
She looked up from her diligent scrubbing of the countertop. “You think so?”
“Yeah. It definitely sounds like a connection. More proof that Cabello has his hands in many more pockets than I expected. I’m gonna mark this page. Good work.” He didn’t look up at her, but that was probably a good thing.
They worked through the morning, trying to piece together the sequence of events as best they could. Lynée cut up yellow index cards for each significant event with the cartel, white cards for Joe’s activities, blue for Reed, and green for DEA stuff in general. She labeled them and pinned them in chronological order to the corkboard.
Around one o’clock, he stepped back and looked at their progress. With his hands on his hips, his stare scanned from one side of the wall to the other, and his brow furrowed. Like he’d just discovered a darker secret.
What’s that look about?
“What’s wrong?” she asked. She moved closer, trying to see whatever the secret was from his angle. He was a good foot taller than her, and once again, his husky cologne hinted her way. If he kept his gaze on the window, maybe he wouldn’t see her leaning in to smell more of it.
He looked down at her. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This is amazing. You could work for the government, Bell.”
Why does he keep calling me that? She secretly loved it. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m quite happy where I am. Remember,” she glanced from the board to him, “research is what I do.”
His eyes twinkled at her like they were smiling.
It was seriously unnerving.
“Well, it’s after one.” She forced herself to step away. “We should eat, then we can swing by the library for that table.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Do you happen to have another one of these cork boards?”
“Well, I don’t, but I know where we can borrow one.”
He grinned at her. “That’ll work. Let’s go. I’ll buy us lunch. You know a good place we can go? And, uh…not Rock Road Diner.”
She smirked. Yeah, Ralph wouldn’t probably poison their food this time, for sure. For every day that passed without his chef and head waitress, their boss would likely up the ante on his pranks. “Let me get my purse.”
After some “home cooking,” as Lynée described it, at Margie’s Buffet Restaurant, they headed to the library to pick up a plastic folding table. Jace rubbed his stuffed belly. Roast beef, baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and two different fruit pies. The food was so stinkin’ good, he would certainly be going back there.
Lynée led the way past several rows of bookshelves. A strong scent of old books filled the air, reminding him of high school, only this library was more brightly lit. Arriving at the large, circular check-out desk, they were greeted instantly by a tall, gangly kid. Really, that’s the first word that came to Jace’s mind. The boy was likely in his twenties, but he had the face of a teenager. His eyes sparkled when Lynée approached.
“Hi, Lynée.” He was practically bouncing on his toes by this point.
“Hi, William. I’m gonna pick up the six-foot table from the storage closet.”
“Oh, right. Bernice told me you’d be coming by. How’s it going? Will you be returning to work soon?” William only glanced Jace’s way as he leaned closer into Lynée, his eyes dilated and his cheeks turning a little pink.
“I’m not sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve got a big project to finish first.”
She had turned to walk away when William spoke. “I hope it isn’t too much longer. We’ve missed you around here.”
Jace wanted to laugh. He could see who missed Lynée the most. His earlier prediction was right on target.
As the librarian walked away, William’s gaze switched over to Jace, where all his goo-goo vibes vanished. His lips thinned like he tasted rancid coffee.
Jace followed her to the dark closet. She flipped on the light switch and pointed to the white table leaning against the wall.
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