Traitor (Last to Leave Book 1)

by Nicole Blanchard

  I didn’t plan on her, flat-out didn’t want her, once I realized how much she’d gotten under my skin, but seeing the way she takes pleasure in the sunset reminds me of a life I thought I’d lost a long time ago.

  At first, I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in a body. Any body. But when we’d made love, she forced me to be present rather than drowning myself in her sweet oblivion. It was her eyes. Those big brown eyes so full of pain. She’d tried to hide it when I first met her, but I could see straight through her mile-wide grin to the agony she kept hidden underneath.

  I recognized a piece of myself in her and I wanted to know more. Then after I had a taste of her, I knew I’d need another and another until it became a part of me.

  When the light grows dark, I take her hand. “We’d better get back before we walk ourselves right off the cliff.” She squeezes my hand in reassurance, and for the first time, I don’t want to push someone away.

  “My uncle is in town for a bit. I think he said something about watching some game at the sports bar. Do you want to come over for a drink or something?”

  There’s no way in hell I’d say no to that, and we’re on the road as soon as I can get the Jeep into gear. I’ll admit, I take the roads a little too fast, wanting to get back to her place as soon as possible. Already, I’m thinking about getting my mouth on her. I need to hear her panting for me like I need my next breath. The way she shifts and fidgets in the seat next to me tells me she’s in just as much of a rush.

  I take the first curve back into town going nearly sixty-five. Peyton leans into my side and I realize I need to calm it down before I get us both into trouble and forgo any chance at getting her naked again. I tap the brakes, but the Jeep doesn’t respond. As we pick up speed, my hands grow damp on the wheel.

  “Ford?” Peyton asks, a slight edge to her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  The moment the Jeep begins to speed out of control underneath my grip, as we take another curve throttling up to seventy-five, adrenaline spikes. “Hold on,” I tell Peyton beside me. Just hold on.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Peyton grip the handles on the dash and above her head. Her face has gone sheet white. I get a flash of despair. I can’t let anything happen to her. Not yet. It’s too soon.

  I don’t want to lose anyone else.

  The echo of another voice, another life, rings around me. I remember telling Ryan Tate something similar the night we were attacked and my whole world changed. The Jeep gains speed as we careen down the mountain, and I’m overwhelmed by the same stifling dread.

  Thinking quickly, I try to recall the upcoming bends in the road. There are a couple more before the road levels out and spits out into a long highway that leads into town. If we can make it through the curves without losing control and without accelerating to dangerous speeds, we might make it.

  We have to.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Peyton

  I want to ask more questions, but my heart is in my throat. I’m afraid if I open my mouth I’m going to embarrass myself by vomiting all over my lap. All I can do is hold on for dear life, like Ford instructed, and hope.

  “I’m going to downshift once we get around the last curve to cut our speed.” Unlike me, Ford is cool under pressure. His eyes are focused on the road, the vehicle, and sometimes on me with a palpable intensity. “Is your seat belt secure?”

  “It’s as good as it’s gonna get. What can I do?” I’m not sure I can do anything, but I hate being helpless.

  “Ever driven a stick?”

  Hysterical laughter threatens to bubble up. I tamp it down, swallowing hard. “Not since I was sixteen.”

  “That’ll have to work. When I tell you, I want you to put her into third.”

  I grip the gearshift with sweat-slicked hands. “Ford?”

  “Yeah, sunshine?” He navigates around a curve, barely managing to keep the Jeep on four wheels.

  “I have to tell you when my dad tried to teach me to drive a stick, I wrecked the transmission.”

  He barks out a laugh, managing to grin at me. “In this instance, that could be a good thing. Now!”

  I slam the gear into what I hope is third, and the Jeep lurches violently along with my stomach. Our speed drops, but only by a fraction. We round another curve.

  “Second when I say,” Ford instructs. He waits until a we have a long length of uninterrupted road. “Now!”

  The Jeep jolts again, this time with a whine of protest. Ford tries pumping the brakes, but to no avail. “First, now!”

  We slow to a more manageable speed and I release the gearshift with numb hands. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto it so tight. “What now?” I ask.

  “We’re gonna pull the emergency brake and hope to hell it does its job.”

  “But we’re slowing down. Once we coast to a stop, we should be fine.”

  Then I see the intersection. I’d forgotten about it. The road we’re on cuts east to west and intersects with another going north to south. As luck would have it, as we speed into view, the intersection is packed with cars full of people.

  My heart plummets. “Oh, God,” I whisper.

  Ford reaches across to tug on my seat belt. I grip the armrest and the center console knowing it won’t do any good if we collide with one of the cars, but needing something to hold onto nevertheless. I think of the outing Ford had described with him relaxing in a hammock while I paint. As we hurtle down the road, I cling to the future with that day in it.

  With one hand on the steering wheel in a vise-like grip and the other on the e-brake, Ford rounds a final curve and yanks the e-brake up with enough force that the car jerks, then shudders. I’m thrown forward, hard, against the resistance of the seat belt, hard enough to bruise.

  Tires squeal. Someone screams. And time stops.

  The engine shrieks and then I’m thrown back against the seat. We rock to a near halt a short distance from the intersection and only a couple yards from the nearest car. Ford angles the Jeep to the side of the road until it comes to a complete stop.

  He’s out of the door and around to my side before I even have a chance to unbuckle my seat belt. Ford scoops me from the car and wraps me up into his arms. I cling to him, my fingers knotting into his shirt.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  Unable to speak around the fear lodged in my throat, I press my face into his chest until it clears. “My shoulder, I think the seat belt gave me a wicked bruise. But I’m fine. God, Ford, you were amazing. We’d be—”

  “Don’t. Don’t you say it.” He steps back to look me over, runs his hands over my body in the removed, clinical way I imagined he did if he was in the field when he was a Marine with an injured friend. “You’re all right. Christ.”

  This time, it’s me who soothes him. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on, just like he’d said.

  We stay that way until the police officers arrive.

  “At least Hadley didn’t look at me like I was crazy this time,” I comment, as we pull into my driveway.

  “He better fucking not. Not after today. I’m going to go back into town and put some pressure on him once I’ve got you settled. You should also report what happened with your clothes.”

  Uncle Bradley looks up as we walk in the door. Noting the look on my face, he quickly gets to his feet and crosses to us. “Peyton. Something happened. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I hold up a hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine. We had a little car trouble. Everything is okay. Ford, this is my Uncle Bradley, Uncle Bradley, this is Ford.”

  Ford gives a nod, but I can tell he’s not really in the mood for pleasantries. “Sir. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get Peyton into bed. She got a little banged up.” Without waiting for an answer, he leads me through the open door of my bedroom.

  “What kind of car trouble leaves you a little banged up?” Uncle Bradley demands. He hovers over the bed as Ford urges me under the s
heets.

  “The kind where my brakes went out and we had to make an emergency pit stop. Got any ice?” Ford asks.

  Uncle Bradley gapes for a moment, then noticing my wince of pain, hurries to the kitchen.

  “Be easy on him,” I tell Ford, who tucks me into the blankets like a child. “He’s been through a lot and he worries.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  “Do you really think I should report what happened with the clothes? It could have been me being forgetful. Besides, we don’t know for sure that the two are related.”

  The look he sends me makes me roll my eyes.

  “We’re not going to take any chances, and I don’t want you staying here alone. Do you or your uncle own a gun?”

  It would be useless to argue. “No, we don’t.”

  “Then I’m staying here for the night.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “If you think I’m leaving you alone after what happened today, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

  Uncle Bradley comes rushing back. He hands me the pack of ice and I press it against my bruise with a wince. “Thank you.”

  “I think you should come home with me,” Uncle Bradley says, as he sits on the bedside opposite Ford. “Clearly there is something going on here. I’d like you to come home with me where I can keep an eye on you.”

  I glare at the both of them. “Are you two conspiring against me? I’m not running away. Uncle Bradley, I appreciate your concern, but you have to let me take care of myself at some point. I’m not a child anymore and you can’t protect me from everything.”

  “Tell him,” Ford orders.

  “Tell me what?”

  I wonder if I can lure Ford back to those pretty cliffs and throw him bodily over the edge. I take my uncle’s hands in mine. “That murder I told you about? We think the person responsible has been trying to hurt me.”

  “Oh, Peanut.”

  “The sheriff’s department has it under control. They’re coming back by tomorrow to interview me again.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I came,” he says. It’s basically an I-told-you-so, but considering what happened, I let it slide.

  “I didn’t want you to worry, and it was something I needed to see through to the finish.”

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider coming home?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to run away anymore. Besides, I like it here. I don’t want to leave yet.”

  “Then, I’m staying, too. It’s too late to check in to a place since your young man is staying with you, but I’m not going to leave until I know your safe.”

  Ford is practically vibrating with tension next to me, even though he’s been respectfully silent. Knowing I’m better off accepting Uncle Bradley’s decision than arguing, I acquiesce. “I guess I can’t argue with you there. Can you give us a minute?” At his pause, I put steel into my voice and backbone. “Just for a few minutes.”

  As soon as Uncle Bradley’s through the door, Ford wraps his arms around me. I sit up so I feel less like an invalid.

  “I’m fine,” I say preemptively, but he’s already running his hands over my face and down my arms again. I wince a little when his fingers tickle over my bruised shoulder. At his frown, I repeat, “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” he replies through gritted teeth. “This is exactly what I was afraid of happening.”

  His eyes cloud over and he grimaces as though he’s in pain. “When I realized the brakes were out I—” When the words stick in his throat, I scoot over on the bed and offer him a place to sit. “When they went out, I thought I’d already lost you.”

  I pull him close and touch our foreheads together. It causes my shoulder to twinge painfully, but his touch is like a balm that quiets everything else.

  “You didn’t lose me,” I say into the material of his T-shirt. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”

  His arms tighten around me, not enough to hurt me, but enough that it reminds him I’m not going anywhere, that I’m safe.

  At least for now.

  I wake up with Ford already above me, his weight a welcome restraint as he pins me to the bed. His mouth cruises down my neck, across my bruised shoulder, and then, finally, to my nipples, where he takes his time licking and sucking until I begin to thrash underneath him. He must have pushed my shirt up in the night. I clutch his head to my breast and bite my lip. Knowing we’re not alone in the house, I try to keep quiet, but he was right.

  I’m never quiet.

  He lifts his head and I groan in an agony of want. “You better be quiet, Peyton. Your uncle might hear us and then what would you do?”

  “Please, I need you.”

  And I do.

  I need that connection to him now more than ever. He said he was afraid something had happened to me, but I shared the same fear. That’s all I could think about when we were racing down the road with death as the only outcome: I wanted to live, wanted the possibility of a future with him.

  “I’ve got you,” he says and surges up to take my lips with his.

  I sigh in gratitude, knowing I could kiss him forever and my only issue would be wanting more. The bed creaks softly as we struggle out of our clothes. I only manage to get my panties off before his hips are between my legs. Reaching down, I take him in my hand and smile when he inhales sharply against my mouth. I love knowing he wants me as much as I want him. He pulses in my hand and groans.

  Gripping him tight, I rub the head of his cock against my entrance, which causes him to wrap his arms more tightly around me and his kisses turn almost bruising. When it becomes too much, he brushes my hands away and thrusts inside me. I arch my neck and he covers my mouth with a hand to control the resulting moan. He turns my head to the side so he can whisper in my ear.

  “You feel so fucking good, little girl. I know you want to scream, but you better be quiet.” When he hears my strangled cries, he only keeps going. “I’m gonna need you like this every night. Waking up in the middle of the night to find you next to me. I want to fall asleep inside you like this and wake up with you coming around me.”

  I bite the thick part of his hand and he groans again. We both turn to the door when we hear the wood floors creak, but we don’t stop.

  I’m not sure if we could.

  “I want to feel you come around me, sunshine. I need it.” His teeth nip at my ear. “I thought I lost you. I need to feel you now more than anything.”

  His dirty talk switches to sweet nothings and his rhythm slows. It’s almost like worship the way he glides in and out of me, the steady stream of endearments intermixed with filthy observations. When I think I’ve got what he’s going to say figured out, he switches it up, and I stumble mentally and emotionally to keep up.

  He undoes me. It’s that simple.

  “God, you look fuckin’ beautiful right now. I could look at you forever. Come on that cock, baby. I want to see your face when you do.”

  Then he leverages up so he can watch my face and my legs wrap tight around his. If I was at the edge, he takes me right over as he tangles my feet with his, so they’re immobile, and then drives so deep inside me I can feel him in places I didn’t even know existed.

  He covers my mouth with his hand again as I explode around him, with stars filling my vision and my ears ringing. His harsh exhalations puff against my shoulder as he comes along with me.

  Later, when we fall asleep, I do so with one leg wrap around his waist with him still inside me. When he wakes me a couple hours later, I’m already halfway to orgasm and this time he doesn’t need to speak because there’s no need for words.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ford

  The next morning, Hadley confirms what I already knew to be true. “Your brake lines were cut. It’s a miracle the two of you survived.”

  I’d been prepared for the news. I hadn’t slept a wink next to Peyton all night, my mind racing with scenario after scenario. You couldn’
t live life as I had and not be prepared for any eventuality. She’d slept peacefully next to me, only rousing long enough for me to make love to her, then falling asleep again. I’d memorized her face as she dreamed and wondered if I’d have to watch her die, too. “Tell me you believe her now. The person who has been in her house moving things around is the same one who tried to kill us yesterday, and the one she saw on the lake.”

  “All I can go by is the evidence I’ve got in front of me. According to the techs, yes, someone did cut your lines. Is there anyone who has a grudge against you? Anyone who’d want to hurt you?”

  “Plenty of people, c’mon Hadley, you’re not new in town. You know I’m not Mr. Popular around here.”

  Hadley frowns. “Anyone here recently?”

  “The only person who I’ve had confrontations with recently are some dude my sister was seeing a couple weeks back. We had a little dustup when he put his hands on her. And Lola. She was upset I wouldn’t kick out other guests for her to host her meeting.”

  “Lola’s out of town right now at a conference, but I’ll give her a call. Do you know the name of the guy you tussled with?”

  I think back, but it doesn’t come to me right away. “Not that I can recall, but I can get ahold of my sister and get it from her and get back to you.”

  “About these clothes we were talking about earlier,” he begins, turning to Peyton, who’d been sitting on the porch rocker, drinking a cup of coffee. “You said you came home and they were wet again?”

  She nods, pushing the rocker with one foot on the porch and the other tucked up underneath her. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a light sweater. Her hair is still damp and her cheeks are vaguely pink from the shower where I’d fucked her against the wall. She meets my eyes before she answers, and I have to lock my knees to keep from staggering backward. She’s steady. Steady like I haven’t seen her since she got here. Her world’s been knocked off its axis, but this time, she’s not running. I think I fall a little bit in love at her warrior attitude.