“That was smart. You have good instincts,” he praised her stupidly. He knew the end of the story. He knew her brother found her.
Colton almost wished she would end the story there. He didn’t know if he could handle the rest. Even having her here, safe in his arms, didn’t stop his need to protect her from the past.
“I heard him in my room. When I wasn’t there, he called for me to come out. He said—” Her breath caught for a moment before she went on. “He said he wasn’t going to hurt me.” She surprised him with a small, humorless laugh. “All he’d ever done was hurt me. But I don’t think he understood.”
She shook her head as if she’d just figured that out.
“It didn’t take him long to come looking for me in his own room. He opened the closet, and when he shut the door I thought I was safe. But only a few seconds later, he opened it again and dragged me out.”
Colton jumped, but covered it by running his hand down her back.
“He was babbling something about how I didn’t love him enough, and how our parents hadn’t loved him enough. I tried to tell him I did love him. But I didn’t convince him.”
“There’s no reasoning with a sociopath.” Colton exhaled and felt her shrug.
“He was exhausted. He could barely hold the knife straight. His muscles were trembling with fatigue. He was covered in so much blood it dripped off the hem of his T-shirt onto my pajamas. Because he was so weak, I was able to fight him. I even made him drop the knife. But he was a twenty-three-year-old man and I was even smaller than I am now.”
Colton looked at her in his arms. He’d always known she was small, but he’d never once considered her weak. With the training she’d gotten in the marshals, she would have had a chance against a grown man, but back then she was just a frightened girl, fighting for her life.
“I knew what was going to happen. I won’t say my life flashed before my eyes or anything, but I do remember thinking, ‘This is it? I made it this far just for this to happen?’ Then the knife came down into my neck.”
Pudge whined as if he understood, and rooted his head along her leg.
“The blade hit my collarbone and deflected down instead of up. It got stuck in my shoulder blade, and he didn’t have the strength to pull it out. Not with the handle and his hand being so slippery. He went to his desk to find another knife, and that’s when the police moved in. Nicholas laughed when they told him to freeze. Instead, he held the knife up higher and rushed them. They shot him before he took two steps.”
“And you were finally free,” Colton said, glad to have it over.
But she shook her head and let out a breath.
“No. I’ll never be free.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Angel felt so much better getting the story out. Thorne was the only other person she’d told the details of that night. Even then, she’d kept it short, and didn’t tell him how terrified she’d been.
In the comfort of Colton’s arms, she felt safe to let it all out.
“I’m so sorry about your parents,” he whispered.
“Thanks.”
He reached over and turned off the light, then flipped the covers up over her. A silent invitation for her to stay, thank God.
She let out a breath and closed her eyes, wanting desperately to be with him. She was suddenly dead tired, and thought she might actually be able to sleep for once.
“Thank you for coming back,” he said.
“Thank you for letting me.”
“You always have a home with me.”
The word struck her with the force of a bullet…but one filled with good things instead of pain and death.
A home.
She hadn’t thought of anywhere as home since that night her life had been destroyed by her brother. But being with Colton did feel like home. Even better, it was a home where she finally felt safe.
She’d never had that before.
A few minutes later, his breathing steadied into a comforting rhythm, and she felt herself being pulled under with him.
When she awoke, the sun was coming in through the curtains and Colton was gone. Pudge was still snuggled up against her back, his hot doggy breath stirring her hair.
Given a choice, she would have picked the other male to have stayed. Although Pudge wouldn’t have been able to make her breakfast, if she was right about the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen.
Starving, she went to investigate, and found Colton at the stove, shirtless.
She wanted nothing more than to walk up behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, and rest her cheek on the bare skin of his strong back. But she didn’t.
Last night she’d slept with him, but it had been very different than before. He’d offered her support. He hadn’t suggested anything more.
To touch him would start something they wouldn’t be able to finish. It had taken all her strength to leave him a year ago. She didn’t know if she could do it again.
Even if there was no other choice.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Colton’s hands were stirring pancake batter, but his mind was working on something else. He was trying to figure out how he could help Angel heal from her scars.
Not the physical ones. He knew her body had healed long ago. But her heart was still broken for her family. He knew she’d loved her parents, but there was something in the way she’d talked about her brother. She’d loved him, too. Despite everything he’d done to her, he’d been her brother. Sibling bonds ran deep.
Colton’s own brothers had done things to him that had seemed unforgiveable at the time, but he loved and missed every one of them.
She’d been betrayed in the worst way. She’d loved her brother who was incapable of loving her back the way she deserved. And there was nothing Colton could do to help her.
In light of her confession about her parents, he hadn’t been able to question her about her dead partner. It was obvious Markel had twisted the truth to get Colton to turn on Angel. No doubt, the story about the partner was just as untrue as what he’d told her about her parents.
He decided to let it go. It wasn’t important. He knew Angel wouldn’t have killed anyone unless it was warranted.
“Last day of school?” Angel asked, startling him as he was throwing pancakes on a plate.
“Yep. Half day. All the kids come in, do nothing, and leave again. It’s a complete waste of half a day.” They kept their conversation light as they sat down to eat, but it drifted off into silence.
When Pudge barked to come in, they both jumped.
Colton stopped his furry friend at the door. “Uh-uh. No dead animals in the house. Take the poor, innocent squirrel back outside.” He closed the door and sat down at the table. “I don’t know how to help. I feel powerless,” he admitted in a rush. So much for letting their middle-of-the-night confessions go.
“Maybe we could look into a doggie intervention.” She had intentionally misunderstood.
His lips twitched at her joke and he met her eyes. Silently begging her to tell him what she needed.
With a sigh she gave in. “Thank you for wanting to help, but I’m okay. Really, I am. It helped to tell you what happened. I didn’t realize how much I was still keeping in. Thanks for listening.”
Listening didn’t feel like enough, but he’d give her whatever she needed. He now understood why she didn’t sleep well. No doubt she was always listening—expecting—some danger to step into her room when she was most vulnerable.
It had felt good to have her safe in his arms, but he couldn’t do anything to help her, short of what he was already doing by listening, and providing a place to hide. Being this helpless went against his male need to fix everything.
After making sure the dog didn’t bring in a gift, he told Pudge to take over the watch and Colton headed out to his truck. He and Angel said an awkward goodbye and waved.
Should he have kissed her?
He shook it off, and drove on.
He’d put on a brave face before leaving for work, but the truth was, he was afraid to go. Something felt off, and he was worried she might get skittish and run. She’d shared a lot with him the night before, and sharing was not Angel’s specialty.
He was just turning onto Spruce Street when he felt a prickle along the back of his neck. Not the ordinary unease of leaving Angel alone, but like something from his past life as a DEA agent.
In the rearview mirror, he noted a white sedan two cars back. It wasn’t out of the ordinary—white sedans were a dime a dozen—but this one in particular caught his attention. A piece of the windshield stripping was pulled up and the rubber bounced around like the antennae of an insect against the roof.
He’d seen it go past the house this morning when he’d let Pudge out to retrieve the newspaper at the end of the driveway.
Instincts kicked in, and he turned right into an alley without signaling. The woman in the mini-van behind him hit the horn and flipped him off.
The sedan paused, but continued on without turning.
Colton let out a sigh of relief. He was being ridiculous. Why would anyone be following him? Surely, there was more than one white vehicle in the world with the windshield stripping coming loose. It was common.
Due to his detour, he was late getting to class. Most of his students were already seated and looking at him in confusion.
“Late night, Mr. Willis?”
He didn’t respond, but it had been a late night. And now it was obvious he looked as bad as he felt. The reason for his delusional behavior on the drive to work could have been because he was exhausted.
“Uh, Mr. Willis? You okay, dude?”
Colton glared at Richie in the front row. “Didn’t we talk about how you’re not supposed use the term dude when conversing with your elders?”
“Yeah, but it’s the last day.” Richie squinted at him.
“Rules still apply on the last day. And all summer. And for the rest of your life.”
“But eventually I will be older than everyone, and I will be their elder. Can I call people dude then?”
Smart-ass.
“No. Not then, either.”
The rest of the class laughed as Colton told Richie to sit up straight.
There was a time when Colton had been the smart-ass, funny kid. Though, he’d always referred to his teachers by their name, or sir or ma’am. His father had taught him respect for his elders.
Hopefully this lesson—however brief—would stick with Richie.
“Okay, everyone. Pull out a piece of paper.” This command was met with collective whining.
“Are we having a quiz? I thought the grades were already in.”
“Relax, Madeline. We’re not having a quiz. But we’re here, and we’re going to learn something.”
Group groan. At least they knew how to work as a team.
“I didn’t bring any paper because it was the last day.”
“Would someone please give Marcus a piece of paper?” The boy opened his mouth. “And a pencil.”
When everyone had their tools in front of them, Colton gave them their assignment. “I want you to list all the real-world things people do every day that require math. And the person who has the most things on their list wins something.”
Pencils started flying. And then Richie the Smart-ass raised his hand with that impish grin that had half the tenth-grade girls following him through the halls.
“Yes?”
“Can I use divvying up a six-pack of beer among four friends?”
“Of course.” And he’d be sure to share that with his parents.
“Cool.”
As graphite scratched across paper, Colton walked between the desks checking over their progress.
“You can’t list every item in the grocery store as a separate line, Bryn.”
“But—”
“No.”
At the last row, he stopped to look out the window at the gorgeous day. The day he was missing with Angel. The sunlight glinted off a windshield across the street.
The loose weather stripping flapped in the light breeze.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Angel was getting nowhere fast. She hadn’t been able to track the email message from Redgamer3, and after an entire day of worming her way into blogs and personal email, not to mention the deepest corners of the Darknet, she still didn’t have a clue who had the stolen prototype. Or who had killed Heath to get it.
Apparently, whoever took Zeller’s technology was in no hurry to sell it.
It made no sense.
No one was talking. Except about how she had offed Heath in a jealous rage. Naturally, they were still talking about that.
She even had a nickname now. The Mantis. Because the female praying mantis killed its mate during sex.
“Very clever, asswipe,” she muttered. “Maybe you should stop spending so much time watching Animal Planet in your mother’s basement.”
Great, she’d resorted to stereotyping.
She rested her forehead on her keyboard, praying to the gods of technology to give her a clue.
Her computer chimed with a new message from Redgamer3.
I haven’t heard from you.
Does this mean you don’t want the prototype back?
I thought you’d be more fun.
She ground her teeth. “Okay, asshole. We’re on.”
She hadn’t planned to interact with Redgamer3, but after hitting a wall on her searches, she had little to lose. She checked to make sure her location was invisible, and responded.
I think you must have the wrong person. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Best not to show her cards too soon.
The answer came back immediately.
Come on, Mantis.
Surely you remember.
the dead man in your bed?
She thought out her reply before typing. If this was the real killer—and she felt maybe he was actually legit—she wouldn’t want to mess up an opportunity to pull him out where she could get to him.
How did you get my email? Have we met?
The answer came back immediately.
I don’t think these are the questions you want answered.
What you really want to know is…
How did I do it?
“Christ.” She sat back against the sofa and covered her mouth in surprise. This person knew her. Or at least it seemed they did. She read the three lines again, noting that all of his correspondence so far had appeared in three lines.
Maybe that was important, but she put it aside for now so she could focus on what they’d written, and how to respond.
How’d you do what?
While she wouldn’t be able to use an email to get out of a murder rap, she could see what the killer might reveal.
This is not as much fun as I thought it would be.
Your new roommate.
Has made you tame.
At the sound of the garage door opening, she picked up her gun and went to the window to make sure Colton was alone. Was he the roommate Redgamer3 was talking about?
Was he watching her now?
Pudge barked his happy welcome, and Angel followed him to meet Colton in the kitchen, still carrying her gun.
She took a breath to calm her tattered nerves. Redgamer3 was not here. He wouldn’t have been able to track her to a physical location.
She was sure of it. Colton didn’t need something else to worry about, so she wasn’t going to say anything. If she told him about the emails, he would want to help, and he couldn’t. Whoever killed Heath was dangerous as hell, and she would make damn sure they never came in contact with Colton.
She relaxed slightly, glad he was home where she could make sure he stayed safe.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen his gaze searched for her anxiously.
“What is it?” she asked, her heart racing again. Had Redgamer3 contacted him?
No. Colton would have called. She need
ed to calm down.
“I’m glad you’re still here,” he said.
Ah. Okay. Back to that.
She’d done this. She’d made him think she was ready to bolt at any second.
The worst part was, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. She wanted to think of herself as a better person now. As someone who would stay and face her fears of commitment rather than running away.
But she wasn’t sure.
Last night, he’d held her. It had felt nice, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish it had been more.
A lot more.
She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go down that path with her again. He’d opened up his heart and asked her to stay with him, and she hadn’t even had the decency to face him when she turned him down. She’d run off like a coward in the night.
“I’m sorry,” she said out loud at the same moment he opened his mouth to speak.
His eyes widened as he cocked his head. “For what?”
This was her chance to backpedal. She could make up something else…or she could be honest and face this thing between them.
She opened her mouth, not sure which was about to come out.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Colton was waiting for Angel to explain the reason for her apology when Pudge rushed past him toward the back door, growling. The fur on the back of his neck rose in a way Colton knew meant bad news.
He hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Angel about the car. Maybe he would have told her…or maybe he would have kept it to himself so as not to worry her.
“Please tell me he sees a bunny,” she said with hope in her voice.
“That’s not his bunny noise.”
“Can’t a girl catch a break?” She sounded more annoyed than scared, but he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Angel was always calm and in control of the situation. “I watched the house until the guy with Markel left. I didn’t give them any reason to be suspicious.”
He decided to confess because it was important she knew what he knew. “Are you sure? Because I think someone was following me this morning.”
“What did you do?”
Wanted for Life Page 9
