Slow Ride

by Lori Foster

  And actually...she didn’t want to go. Not anymore. Her own family hadn’t included her like this, not in a very long time, and it felt...good. While it lasted, even if only for a day, she wanted to soak it in, savor it. She could think back on this day to counter the uglier memories when they returned, as they always did.

  Jack set a plate of food in front of her, then, without asking, scooped Peanut away and placed him next to Howler.

  She was just frazzled enough that she rounded on him. “Hey, I was—”

  Brodie spoke over her. “I keep meaning to ask you, Jack. Think you could watch the animals for a few days? Therman is sending me out of town for a pickup, and I thought Mary and I might make it an overnighter. What do you think?”

  Beneath the table, Jack put a hand on Ronnie’s knee. The warmth of his grip penetrated her jeans, maybe even penetrated her very bones.

  “Sure,” he said, “as long as Ronnie can lend a hand.”

  Charlotte perked up with curiosity, her gaze going from one man to the other as if piecing together a puzzle. She leaned in. “Kittens need a lot of care. I’d offer, but I’m already scheduled with...other stuff.”

  Their mother busied herself with food containers.

  Ronnie scrutinized each face. Brodie appeared sly, Jack intent, and Charlotte conspiratorial. When she glanced at Ros, the woman tried to compress a smile and kept her gaze on her plate.

  Okay, so Ronnie wasn’t an idiot. This whole thing was a trumped-up excuse for Jack to get her alone. In part, because, yeah, he wanted sex. On that, she was more than willing.

  But he was also worried. For her.

  Actually, so was she. The man from the shadows... He’d spooked her, especially since she had to assume he was the same man who’d shown up at the hotel. She didn’t relish the idea of driving home alone. She flat out dreaded the idea of trying to sleep again after two very restless nights. Plus deep down, she had a real bad feeling about things.

  Here was an excuse she could use...if it didn’t kill her to let them think she was that dumb.

  While nibbling on a pickle, she glanced at Brodie. “One night?”

  “Actually...” Dark eyes took her measure, gauging what she would or wouldn’t accept.

  In that moment, Ronnie realized that he knew she was onto him. It was there in his small smile, in the tilt of his head. She saw understanding, which almost unraveled her. Also respect, which got him off the hook.

  “You know,” Brodie said, as if thinking out loud, his gaze never releasing hers, “I think a little longer would be better.”

  “How long?” Jack asked, playing all nonchalant.

  Brodie raised a brow at Ronnie. “Four days? Maybe five?”

  Finally, she could pull her attention away. Five days would be a... Hell, they’d be a lifeline. A gift. A memory she could cherish always.

  Silence settled around them. No one ate. No one moved.

  All she could hear was the kitten purring and Howler enjoying—like really enjoying—his bone.

  Decision made, she picked up her sandwich. “I’ll have to run home to get a few things.”

  A collective breath released, and just like that, everything returned to normal. Jack put an arm around her for a quick squeeze.

  Brodie leaned in to say near her ear, “Thank you. For multiple reasons.”

  They had her sandwiched in, caught between all that potent machismo and masculine perfect.

  Honestly, it wasn’t a terrible place to be.

  * * *

  JACK LOOKED AROUND Ronnie’s apartment with keen interest. In some ways, it was exactly what he’d expected. Stark to the point of sad, minimal in both furniture and personal items.

  Since they’d left the offices, Ronnie had been distant, drawn into her own thoughts.

  Respecting her need for introspection, he’d let her be. Coming with him, staying with him—for however long he could convince her—was a big step for her. Monumental in many ways.

  Actually, for him as well.

  Yes, he’d had other women stay over, sometimes for up to a week. But that had been for convenience, not out of a need to protect, to claim, to build a foundation of trust...for the future.

  Pulling a rumpled duffel bag out from under the bed, Ronnie expertly packed a few pairs of jeans, socks, and underwear, and a variety of sweatshirts and shirts. Her two jackets hung by the front door so he assumed she’d grab them on her way out.

  When she finished packing, very little remained in the closet, or in the drawers of the single dresser. Not because she was taking so much, but because she had so little to begin with.

  “You travel light,” he noted. She’d gotten everything into the duffel and still had room leftover.

  With a roll of one shoulder, she explained, “I move around a lot. It doesn’t make sense to accumulate too much.”

  He glanced at the multiple earrings in her ears, the bracelets on one narrow wrist, and the simple silver rings on several fingers. “Any other jewelry to get?”

  She shook her head. “I wear it all.”

  “Every day?” Yes, any time he’d seen her, she’d worn the same pieces, so he’d just assumed she liked jewelry and had more.

  She answered with a shrug. “I’ve had all of these for a while.”

  It hit him with sudden insight. “Gifts?”

  Using her thumb, she turned a ring on her middle finger. “From my dad, yeah.” Smirking, she shook her head. “Back when he was my dad.”

  And they meant so much to her, she kept them close at all times. Jesus, it was unbearable, wanting to soothe her while also wishing he could crush the man who’d so callously hurt her. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “No biggie. That all ended a long time ago.”

  And yet she still wore each and every piece. “If your dad came back to you, if he apologized and said he realized—”

  Snorting, she said, “It’d never happen, believe me. I stopped thinking about it years ago.”

  For some reason, Jack felt compelled to press. “But if it did?”

  With her gaze on the empty wall, she turned her head in thought, sending the longest part of her bangs to tumble forward. “At first, I used to imagine us hugging and crying and...just going back to normal. What a crazy fairy tale, huh?”

  “I understand wanting that.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Yeah, well, time for that came and went ages ago. Now I don’t know. Honestly, I’d probably tell him to fuck off. He’s had years to care, and now it’s just too late.”

  Jack didn’t believe that, and neither did she. If she truly didn’t care, she wouldn’t wear all his gifts.

  Every day.

  As if she’d read his mind, Ronnie flashed him an overbright smile and deliberately jangled the bracelets. “Seems easier to wear it all than store it.”

  The defensive answer didn’t surprise him. Ronnie spent so much time rallying against her hurts, sarcasm came automatically for her.

  But the photos sitting on the dresser in an otherwise unadorned apartment told another story. Trying not to be obvious, Jack studied the image of a younger Ronnie with her parents and sister at what looked to be a Christmas party, then another at a summer picnic.

  Physically, the differences were apparent, of course. He guessed the photo to be more than a decade old. Everyone aged, matured.

  But it was her expression that really dated the photo. In it, Ronnie looked genuinely happy. The carefree smile, the innocent light in her eyes... Somewhere along the way she’d lost them.

  Jack wanted to help her find them again.

  A photo of her sister sat apart. The young woman in the image was everything Ronnie wasn’t—tall, poised, and sedate. Her blue eyes, with only marginal makeup, appeared cool and remote.

  He’d take Ronnie’s restless fire and brutal honesty
any day.

  Standing to the side, Jack watched as she went out the door and into the small bathroom to fill her overnight case with makeup, lotion, hair products, and brushes. He liked the contrast of her balls-to-the-wall attitude on life softened by her feminine primping.

  Everything about her intrigued him, but it was more than that, too. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted her. Each time he saw her, the impact seemed more familiar.

  And he became more determined.

  While she stuffed her products into the duffel, Jack propped a shoulder against the doorframe. “I’m glad you’re not packing a nightgown.”

  She snorted as if he’d shared a joke. “Do I look like I’d own a nightgown? I usually sleep in a T-shirt and my panties.” Her gaze clashed with his. “But occasionally, when it’s hot, I sleep naked.”

  That blatant tease hit him like a sensual punch, kicking his heart into a gallop, flashing a visual into his brain, and making his cock stir. “Saying things like that,” he warned, “could delay how quickly we get out of here.”

  Laughing outright, she hefted the strap of the duffel over her shoulder and started toward him. “Promises, promises.”

  Jack straightened. He’d show her a promise—

  The buzzing of her phone immobilized them both.

  Dropping the duffel with a groan, Ronnie fished her phone from her back pocket and glanced at the screen. “The brothers.” With an apologetic smile, she said, “Duty calls.”

  Jack watched with interest while Ronnie listened to the newest assignment. Nodding at whatever was said, she put the phone on speaker, placed it on the dresser, and dug a pen and paper from her satchel of a purse.

  “Go on, Drew, I’m ready.”

  The brothers spoke together, first one, whom she’d addressed as Drew, and then the other, which had to be Drake.

  “Go by the bank to withdraw more funds.” He stated an amount.

  “Sure thing,” Ronnie said, writing on a scrap of paper. Apparently bank runs were a norm for her employment.

  “Because there have been incidents in the recent past,” Drake intoned with lofty meaning, “we would like to assure you that all should go smoothly this time.”

  “Sure,” she said without concern. “But it if doesn’t, I’ll take care of it.”

  Damn, but Jack admired her spirit.

  Silence reigned, until Ronnie asked, “That it?”

  Drew cleared his throat and lowered his tone. “The purchase will be for two photos of a crime scene, taken by a neighbor in secret. They’re not outstanding, but supposedly you can see a spirit in the background, looking through the windows. Ensure both photos are included in the purchase.”

  Jack mouthed, Spirits? At least they weren’t more dead bodies.

  Ronnie shrugged. “Got it, guys. No problem.”

  “We return home tomorrow,” Drake said.

  Or at least, Jack thought it was Drake. They sounded so similar with their dramatically lowered voices, he’d lost track during the conversation.

  “You want me to bring everything to you then?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yes, but we’d also like to meet Mr. Crews.”

  Brows up in query, Ronnie slanted him a look. “You free?”

  Since he’d be wherever she was, he’d ensure it wasn’t a problem. “Absolutely.”

  “There you go,” Ronnie said.

  They arranged a meeting for late afternoon, and then they were on their way.

  After giving Jack directions to the bank, Ronnie fidgeted and he could almost hear her thoughts, bold but uncertain as she wound up to something important.

  Around Ronnie, he forever had to strive for patience, which usually wasn’t a problem for him. He never knew what she might do or say, but he knew it’d often be unexpected and sometimes completely outrageous.

  “So,” she said, her fingers threading through her hair, tucking it back and letting it fall forward again. “I feel like I should explain something.”

  Hmm. With Ronnie, reactions were important. Whatever she planned to say, he had to respond in a way that didn’t insult her—and sometimes everything insulted her. Part of her defense was to deliberately take everything the wrong way.

  “We can talk about anything.” He glanced at her too-serious, wary expression. “Always, okay?”

  That typically mulish facade fell over her features. “I wasn’t fooled by the whole ‘need to watch the animals’ excuse.”

  “I know.” Ronnie wore her thoughts plain in her expressions, there for all to see. “Brodie knew, too. It was nice of you to go along.”

  “Nice?” she huffed. “Nice doesn’t have anything to do with it. Truth is, I’m a little spooked about being alone right now.”

  Wow. Jack never expected that admission from her. Given her pained air, she probably thought it made her look weak, but he took it as honest, brave, and he hoped, a sign of trust. Since she’d given it, he gave one of his own: “I’m more than a little nervous about things, so again, thank you for playing along.”

  Her brows rose so high they disappeared under the fall of her hair. “You’re worried about being alone?”

  Damn. She’d completely misunderstood, and now things got tricky. If he said he wasn’t worried for himself, would she feel challenged to deny her own fears?

  Going with selective honesty, he said, “You have great instincts, Ronnie. If you feel uneasy, it makes me uneasy for you. There’s strength in numbers, right? We’re safer together.” She was safer with him to watch over her. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m glad you see it that way.”

  “And you appreciate my trust?” he prompted. Trust was a biggie for him. Outside of family, he didn’t give it often. When he did, he wanted it in return.

  Instead of answering, she looked away. “It’s just that... I’m hypersensitive to danger now.” Her hand moved as if dismissing the notion as ridiculous. “When I sense something is wrong, it bothers me more than it should. More than it would other people.”

  Jack reached for her hand, enfolding it in his so she couldn’t downplay her own reality. “Things that happen to us, especially bad experiences, can sharpen our senses. Your kidnapping makes you more intuitive. I never discount my own instincts, so you can be damn certain I won’t discount yours.”

  Briefly, her hand tightened in his before easing away. “There was something about the way that guy watched me, something different...” Agitated, she dropped her head back against the seat. “I’ve felt people watching me before.”

  What? Hoping for an easy explanation, Jack asked, “You mean, like men admiring you?”

  She snorted. “No.”

  That’s what he’d thought. “So you’ve felt someone watching you in a threatening way?”

  As if it confused her, too, she rolled a shoulder. “Not really threatening. Not until recently.”

  Maybe, working together, he could help her figure it out. “Share what you can. When it happened, time of day, location—stuff like that.”

  The way she jumped in, Jack assumed she’d been anxious to discuss it. “It’s been happening over the past year or so. Not long after I last talked to Skylar, and several times since then. She was particularly...unfriendly that last time I called her.” Consternation drew Ronnie’s brows. “Not really angry, but in a forced, too-obvious way, you know? Like she wanted me to believe she was done, even if she wasn’t.”

  “You haven’t talked to her since then?”

  “No. I decided I’d let it go—let her go. But I’ve often wondered if she might be curious, if she was checking up on me.” Ronnie studied him. “I know I’m curious about her, even though I don’t want to be.”

  “She’ll always be your sister, no matter what.”

  “Right.” Her mouth pinched, suppressing emotion. “Do you
think she could feel the same?”

  Restless, Jack squeezed the wheel while he considered how to answer. Honesty, at least in this case, would be brutal.

  “I’m not fragile, you know.”

  Despite the gravity of the discussion, he smiled. “No, you’re not.” At least not at the moment. Other times, though...

  “So stop looking like I asked you to saw off an arm.”

  That made Jack almost laugh, but he quickly smothered it. “Here’s the thing, honey—family like yours... I don’t understand them. Ask me about Mom, Brodie, or Charlotte, and I could say with certainty what they were thinking or feeling because I know them, really know them, and they know me. I’m not sure that’s true of your family.” Because if they’d known her, they never would have let her go. “Trying to guess on your sister is like trying to figure out my dad. I can tell you, at least with him, he’s usually self-motivated.”

  Could her sister have a selfish reason for spying on her, for seeking her out? Again, Jack didn’t know enough about her to guess. That is, if it was her sister watching her. Could be her mother, the dad who’d rejected her—or it could be something far more sinister.

  Ronnie stewed on that a moment, then redirected the conversation. “Anyway, those times felt different. They made my skin prickle, you know? Like I could feel someone watching.”

  “Awareness. It’s almost a tactile thing.”

  “Right, like that. I felt it, but it didn’t make me want to run or anything.”

  “So maybe there are two people,” he said. “Or maybe the intention of the person has changed.”

  After a brief moment of surprise, she blinked. “Just like that? You believe me?” She searched his face, her lips slightly parted. More than a little dubious, she added, “About all of it?”

  “One hundred percent.” And that wasn’t just telling her what she wanted to hear. Until they could figure out what was going on, he hoped he could come up with enough excuses to keep her close. “And because of that, I also believe you’re safer with me.”

  Ronnie hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t like this arrangement—”

  “Relying on me?” he guessed.