Georgina blushed as everyone gave her admiring looks.
“But Georgie is tiny and Grabby Gary is twice her size!” Kiesha said. Then a calculating look came over her face. Oh shit, what was she planning? Nothing good he was willing to bet. “Do you think you can teach us to do that?”
“Umm, what?” Georgina asked.
“I want to learn how to flip someone over my shoulder.”
“Me too!” Isa said, dancing around excitedly.
“Hey, now, Ranger ran women’s self-defense classes last month and no one came to them,” Ed said.
“Yes, but Ranger is a man,” Kiesha explained. As though that was meant to mean something? “Georgie isn’t. She gets us. And she’s one of us, now.”
She was one of them? What was happening here?
“I’m not sure I’ll be here long enough. Sorry.”
Disappointment filled Kiesha’s face. Fuck. He narrowed his eyes at Georgina. She stared back at him wide-eyed.
“But we’ll see,” she added.
He ran his hand over his face tiredly. Enough. He needed to get things sorted and go home to bed. “Look, I need to talk to Georgina and all of you need to get home and into bed. Isa, sweetheart, did someone take your statement?”
“Yep. Grabby Gary disappeared though, so Jace said he’ll chase him down in the morning.”
“What an asshole,” Kiesha muttered. “How dare he touch you like that then not listen when you told him to let you go.”
“I’ll deal with him,” Ed rumbled, anger filling him.
“How is that any different than what Loki did to me?” Georgina pointed out.
Fuck.
He searched for an answer. But the truth was . . . she was right.
“You’re right. Would you rather press charges than have me give him a warning?”
Kiesha gasped and Isa’s mouth dropped open. Even Cleo stirred, opening her eyes. “You’re going to press charges against Loki?” she asked.
“He grabbed me. He wouldn’t let me go,” Georgina defended. “Do you really think that’s okay?”
“He scared her,” Ed told them.
“Hey, I didn’t say that,” Georgina countered. She straightened her shoulders and glared up at him. Why was she so angry? It was fine to admit that she’d been frightened.
Obviously, she didn’t see it that way.
“He scared you? Oh no, he’ll feel terrible about that,” Isa said. “I’ll go check on him tomorrow.”
Georgina looked over at her. “If he doesn’t want to feel terrible then maybe he shouldn’t manhandle women. Same as Gary.”
“You’ve got to understand,” Kiesha said, squeezing Georgina’s hands. “Loki, he was a marine. He came back a changed person. His last tour, he saw a lot of action, had a lot of friends die. When he returned, he was skinny, and he had PTSD. He was spiraling, out of control. We didn’t know what to do to help him.”
“That’s terrible,” Georgina said, her face softening.
“We tried getting him to talk to a therapist, we tried everything we could think of,” Kiesha told her. “In the end, his friends took him camping. They didn’t come back for three months. And when they did, he was a changed man. He does these crazy things, not because he is crazy. But it’s just his way of dealing with things. Him pretending you were a prize, it’s something he does every so often. We all know about his crazy antics. But you didn’t. I’m sorry you were scared. And he really will feel terrible. It’s almost like a joke gone bad, I guess.”
Georgina frowned.
“What if you were to talk to Loki when he’s not Loki,” Isa asked her gently.
“What? What do you mean?” Georgina asked.
“His name is really Lachlan,” Ed told her.
“I know you’ll think I’m just blowing smoke up your ass, but he really is a good guy,” Isa told her. “But he won’t deal well with the idea that he scared you.”
They all waited for her decision. “All right. I guess I could meet him. And I won’t press charges. A warning is fine. If it was just meant to be a joke . . . but he’s got to promise not to do that anymore. Not even to locals. It’s not something people will understand.”
Isa nodded. “He’ll stop. I promise.”
“Now that’s over, let’s get you all home,” Ed said.
“About time,” Cleo grumbled, standing up. “Ed, these chairs are ridiculously uncomfortable. You need to think about investing in a sofa or something.”
“Strange as it may sound, I don’t really want to encourage people to sleep in my office.” Although at the rate he was going, he’d soon be sleeping here.
Cleo shrugged. “Come on, all of you get in the car.”
“Yeah, there’s no way you’re driving,” Ed told her.
“Why not? I haven’t been drinking!” Cleo gave him an offended look.
“Not saying you have, but you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes snoring so there’s no way you’re driving when you’re that tired.”
“I do not snore! And I was just resting my eyes. I’m fine to drive.”
“Try to drive, and I’ll call O’Ryan.”
She gave an exaggerated gasp. “That’s a low blow. I have a photo of you when you had pimples. You best be nice to me.”
These women. He swore they’d be the death of him.
7
Fear.
He was watching her.
I’m coming for you, Daisy. Then we can be together forever.
She sat up with a silent scream. Her body was shaking, coated in sweat. Even the sheets were damp.
Oh God. Oh God.
She was going to throw up. She stumbled out of the bed and raced into the bathroom. She winced as her knees slammed onto the floor. Grabbing the side of the toilet to steady herself, and trying not to think about all the germs that might be present on a toilet in a motel, she vomited.
Her stomach quickly emptied. When the heaving stopped, she sat back on the floor. She was too weak to stand, to even get up and flush the toilet.
Why had she had that dream?
Why now?
She could’ve blamed it on last night. On Loki’s actions bringing up old fears and memories. Only, she’d had these nightmares for over a decade. It was just that they didn’t usually come every night like they had been lately. Since the incident. She sucked in a breath.
Poor, broken sleep. Too much stress. No social life. She knew she’d lost weight. She was having problems eating. Food made her feel nauseous. None of her clothes were fitting right. Her hair was starting to fall out. She was a complete and utter mess.
She drew her legs up to her chest and rested her head against her knees.
Calm down. Calm down.
She dragged herself up. She leaned against the wall until she was certain that her legs would hold her up. Reaching over, she flushed the toilet.
Those pink flamingos had been a terrible idea. Especially, when she had barely eaten yesterday. Turning to the sink, she ran the cold water. She put her wrists under the cool stream, hoping it would help. Then she gathered up handfuls and splashed the water on her face. When her heartbeat had finally slowed, she grabbed a hand towel and patted her face dry.
She didn’t want to look in the mirror. She didn’t want to see her reflection staring back at her.
But she knew she had to.
A James never hid.
So she forced herself to stare into the mirror and winced at the reflection staring back at her. Wide eyes, pale skin, thin face. She was fast approaching gaunt. Fuck. She had to get herself back under control.
You’re a mess.
You’re not allowed to be a mess.
You’re supposed to cope with everything thrown at you. You’re not supposed to fall apart.
Somehow, the pep talk did little to help her precarious state of mind. Why had she come here? What did she think she was going to gain? Did she really come here because of a kiss?
How ridiculous was that?
Except she knew it wasn’t just the kiss. It was because she had no life. Nothing to look forward to. The only thing that had brought her any sort of joy was that kiss.
She’d just wanted some of that back.
Still ridiculous. But understandable.
She moved, turning on the shower and then pulling off her clothes quickly. She jumped in before it had gotten warm. The chill made her shiver then it was soon scorching hot.
Grabbing a cloth, she started scrubbing at her skin angrily. It was the only way to deal with the nightmare. To wash it away. To keep washing until the feel of his hands on her were gone.
But somehow, no matter how much scrubbing she did, the feeling never disappeared.
When she got out, she dried herself off. She was still trembling. This was ridiculous. This was all in her head. None of it was real.
“You’re stronger than this, Georgina. You’re not allowed to fall apart. You’re not supposed to burn out.” She stepped in front of the mirror. All she had to do was confront her demons, then they’d leave, right? There was no point running or hiding. That never worked. Look at her right now. She’d come here, trying to run from them.
But the demons were inside her. So they’d never leave until she confronted them.
Taking a deep breath, she removed the towel, staring in the mirror at her body. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She did everything she could to avoid looking at herself naked. The scars that riddled her body just served to remind her of everything that she’d suffered through.
She was a coward.
She ran her trembling fingers over the large scar on her stomach. She sucked in a breath. Logically, she knew that it was old, faded. Had been there for years. But when she touched it, she flinched. As though it had pained her.
Her breathing grew shallower. She forced her fingers away from that scar and to the one over her right breast. Her screams of pain filled her head.
“Calm. Calm.”
The last scar she touched was the most recent. This was the reason her nightmares had become a nightly occurrence. A bullet wound through her arm. A flesh wound. It was healed, but she could still feel it searing through her skin.
Unable to take any more, she wrapped the towel back around her. She headed towards the bed. Today, she was going to hide. Grabbing her favorite onesie, she pulled it on. It had a skull and crossbones on the front and a drop-seat. Lifting the pillow, she drew out the hidden item underneath. If anyone saw her in the onesie or found out she slept with this, she’d be humiliated.
Likely, her mother would have her committed. They’d claim she had temporary insanity or something. There was no way her thirty-four-year-old daughter would be sleeping with a toy parrot. But she wasn’t giving Squawkers up. She couldn’t. Her father had bought Squawkers for her when he’d taken her to a musical show about pirates. She’d been six. That had been one of the best days in her life.
Squawkers was all she had left of him, other than her memories.
Almost all day, every day, she had to push herself to be better, stronger, smarter. She had to hold back what she was really thinking. She hid beneath dull clothes and a cool demeanor. This . . . this was the only way she had of unwinding.
She knew what she was. She understood her needs and desires. But having a soft toy and sucking her thumb . . . it often wasn’t enough to keep the anxiety and pressure at bay.
She clutched Squawkers tight and slid under the covers. Today, she’d hide.
Tomorrow, she’d try to fix herself.
“Have you seen Georgie today?” Kiesha asked, striding into his office.
“Hello, Kiesha, how are you feeling today? Wake up with a headache?” Ed replied.
“I’m fine. You know I don’t get hangovers. Have you seen Georgie?” she demanded.
“No, I haven’t seen Agent James. She’s probably sleeping.” He wished he was.
“She’s not sleeping. I was just at her motel room, I banged on the door for fifteen minutes. By the way, that guy in the room next to her is a total grump. Hot, really ripped. But an absolute grump.”
He groaned. “Maybe he didn’t want to be woken up at nine-thirty on a Saturday morning by some crazy woman banging on a door for fifteen minutes.”
Kiesha waved her hand dismissively. “The point is, she’s obviously not in her room or sleeping or she would have heard me. I want her to come to breakfast before we head out to see Loki.”
“I’m trying to work here, Kiesha.”
“Isn’t it your day off?”
He ran his hand over his face. When was the last time he’d gotten a day off?
“You look tired. You should go home and sleep,” she said in a gentler voice.
“I intended to spend the day at home sleeping, but instead I have piles of paperwork to finish due to a brawl that broke out last night. And maybe I’d get through that paperwork quicker if I didn’t get interrupted.”
“Nobody is going to die because you haven’t completed some paperwork, Ed. You’re becoming a workaholic. You need to live a little.” A calculating look came over her face. Fuck. What was she up to? “When was the last time you went on a date?”
“Uh-uh, no. You are not matchmaking.”
“Me? Of course not! I do have a funny story for you, though.”
“What kind of funny story?” he asked suspiciously.
“Well, it turns out that Georgie thought you and I were getting it on. Gross, right?”
Wait. What? “Why would she think that?”
“Because of yesterday. When you leaned over me and tried to lay down the law. She thought we were in a relationship. And she felt terrible because she was worried that you might have cheated on me. With her.”
His mouth opened. Shut. “What? I haven’t . . . she and I just . . . “
“Kissed. I know. After I cleared up the fact that I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on Earth, no offense.”
How could he not take offense?
“Which means the road is now clear for you two to do more than just kiss. You should ask her on a date.”
“I’m not asking her on a date.”
“Why not? She’s cute, she’s smart, and she’s into you. You even have stuff in common.”
“Stuff in common?” he asked.
“Yeah, law stuff. You both like taking down criminals. So you’ll have things to talk about. Just, try not to lecture her. Or talk too much. You know, women want you to actually listen rather than going on and on and on.”
Right. He was the one who liked going on and on. Sure.
“I’m not asking her on a date, Kiesha.”
“Why not?”
“None of your business.”
She huffed out a breath. “Rude. Fine. Well, if you’re not going to ask her out on a date, that gives me an idea.”
What idea? What was she doing? She rummaged around in her oversized, bright yellow, faux-leather handbag and drew out her phone. The phone case had a picture of Winnie the Pooh stuck in a jar of honey with just his legs and ass sticking out.
Suddenly, she held it up in front of his face. “No, that’s no good. Can you smile?”
“Why would I smile?”
“Because in this photo you look all serious. Like you’re contemplating murdering someone.”
That’s because he was definitely contemplating murdering someone.
“If you smile, you’ll look years younger. Closer to your actual age.”
“Kiesha,” he growled. How had Georgina ever thought that they were together?
“Yeah?”
“Why are you taking a photo of me?” he asked as calmly as he could.
“Because I can’t create it without a photo of you.”
“Can’t create what?”
“Your Tinder profile, of course. Now, what would you say your interests are? Taking down bad guys and lecturing people. Hmm, maybe we shouldn’t put that second part. This could take some creative license. Ho
w about a hard worker and very industrious? No. That just makes you sound boring.”
“Kiesha.” He used his Dom voice. He didn’t use it on her often. He didn’t think it was fair to do so when he wasn’t her Dom. Most people might not see her submissive side. They’d just see her big personality and that sassy mouth. But he knew that there was a lot she hid. A lot of pain. As well as a Little side.
However, he needed her attention fully focused on him right now. Because this was important.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I need you to repeat something after me.”
“All right,” she said cautiously.
“I will,” he said slowly.
“I will,” she repeated.
“Never, ever.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Never, ever.”
“Make Ed.”
“Make Ed.”
“A Tinder profile.” He gave her a firm look just to emphasize his point.
She placed a hand on her hip. “Well, how else are you going to find someone if I don’t help you out? I know you won’t do it yourself.”
“I’ll find them the old-fashioned way, through meeting them face-to-face.”
“Nobody does it like that anymore.”
“Kiesha,” he rumbled.
She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. But if you’re not going to let me help you find a date; will you at least give me her number?”
“Whose number?”
“Georgie’s number.”
“Even if I had her phone number, I wouldn’t give it to you.” That was a total lie. He had her phone number. Like the fool that he was, he’d put it into his phone when they’d been working that case a few months ago and hadn’t removed it.
“You’re lying to me. You totally have it.”
He sighed. “Fine, I have her number. But I’m not giving it to you.”
“Urgh, your insistence on playing by the rules is so annoying sometimes.”
“It kind of comes with the territory of being the sheriff,” he pointed out mildly.
“But you can call her for me, right? I’ll talk to her. You just call her. Then I can ask her for permission for you to give me her number.”
Sheriff Daddy (Montana Daddies Book 10) Page 6
