Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4)

by Shauna Allen

  It was the most horrifying thing I’d ever witnessed or would ever witness in this lifetime.

  I bottled that night away, changed my shirt, and slapped my game face on. I think I was fairly believable by the time I made it back to the Jeep. I offered Blake a quick nod then we took off again for his house.

  “Surprise!” The chorus of cheers from the partygoers had Blake stepping back in shock, nearly into my chest. I shoved him forward into the melee.

  “Holy shit.” He spun around. “You guys knew about this?”

  I mimed zipping my lips as Delilah grabbed her husband and tugged him into the waiting crowd of family and friends. Jesse closed the door behind us then made a beeline to his wife and daughter by the dessert table.

  I shook my head and began to slowly make my way around the mass of bodies to find a quiet corner. I stopped short when I found Jewel had beat me to it.

  She peered up from her perch on Blake’s leather recliner. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I slid in front of her and sat on the ottoman at her knees. “You look nice.” I tipped my head to indicate her sunshine yellow dress that did amazing things for her curves.

  “Oh.” She smoothed a hand down her thigh. “Thanks.”

  I glanced back at Blake, who was sporting a huge grin with his daughter wrapped up in his arms as she fed him a chip. “Looks like we surprised him.”

  “Yup.”

  I tilted my head and studied her. Were we back to the not being cute thing? Time to divert back to the easiness we had last night. “So, I got a call from an old friend today.”

  Her bright eyes focused on me. “Yeah? Who?”

  “Wyatt Dempsey.” She looked blank. “My direct commander in Afghanistan.”

  “Oh. Were you guys close?”

  “Yeah.” As close as two men in that bloody position could be.

  Her genuine smile was like the sun breaking through the storm clouds. “It was nice of him to call. What did he say?”

  I cleared my throat and peered down to where her hand rested on mine. I don’t think she even realized she was touching me. I lifted my eyes to hers. “I’ll find out tomorrow. He’s coming to see me.”

  “That’s . . .” She must’ve realized what she was doing and shifted to sit back, but I flipped our hands so I was gripping hers tightly. She paused, her breath shallow. “. . . Nice.”

  I linked our fingers, studying the difference in size and color. She was so fragile and pale. “It is.” I was not talking about seeing Dempsey.

  I’d never given myself permission to touch her before and I wasn’t sure how I’d stop myself now. She was so soft and perfect. So wounded. I longed to care for her. To find the ugly things that hurt her and rip them apart. The shattered pieces of me were drawn to the shattered pieces of her, as if we’d somehow find answers in each other. Or healing.

  Maybe she sensed this too, because she didn’t pull away, instead tightening her hold with a squeeze.

  “Micah, I—”

  A loud pop rang out behind us. I automatically flinched, my eyes wide, my heart pounding in my throat with a violence I hadn’t felt in ages.

  Jewel’s gaze was alarmed, then she scooted closer, as if sensing my turmoil. “Are you okay?”

  My adrenalin was rushing so furiously, I couldn’t find words. I was fighting my body’s natural instinct to duck for cover as my brain scrambled to process what was happening. Not war. No gunfire. Just fireworks on the fourth of July.

  I bowed my head, swallowed the bile back down my throat. When would this go away? “I’m fine.”

  “Hey, guys, it’s cake time,” Delilah called from the dining room, oblivious to my private nightmare.

  Jewel said something I couldn’t hear, placing herself directly between me and everyone else. She crouched down and caught my eye. “You sure?”

  I nodded, coming back to myself in tiny bits and pieces. I reached out and brushed her jaw with my thumb. Our gazes locked and color rose to her cheeks.

  It suddenly occurred to me that with one look at her, one touch, and the horror was that much further away. She was somehow chasing my monsters away. Whatever this was that pulsed between us was drawing her in, too. I could see it. Feel it.

  It was too much.

  I stood and tugged her hand. “Shall we?”

  She was all innocence as she rose and tried to step away from me. I held firm and gave a gentle yank. She turned back. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I let her go ahead of me, waiting a beat to get my head together. What the hell had come over me?

  We joined the party with hardly a hint that anything had happened between us, though I was sure my thundering heart would give me away every time she glanced my way. What the fuck was I supposed to do with all these . . . feelings? The warm press of emotion against my ribs was not altogether a pleasant sensation, and I found myself longing to run and hide back in the hole of my apartment to nurse what was left of my nightmares. At least I knew what to do with them, knew how they defined me.

  When the party began to die down and people started trickling out for home, I walked Jewel out to her truck. We paused under the streetlight and I was struck by the nearly iridescent white of her hair in the night. She looked like an angel.

  “That was fun.”

  “It was,” I agreed, not taking my eyes off of her.

  She fumbled in her purse for her keys then shot me a timid smile. “I’ll see you next week at class?”

  I nodded and waited while she slid into her truck. I stepped up on the curb as she stuck the key in the ignition.

  Click, click, click.

  Nothing.

  Click, cliiiiiiick, click.

  She frowned at me.

  I twisted my wrist in the air so she’d roll down the window. When she did, I poked my head inside and squinted at her gauges. “It’s dead, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”

  I checked her battery and wires. Her battery was a little corroded, but nothing else seemed out of place. “Try it again.”

  I watched the engine when she cranked then slammed the hood with a stop motion. “I don’t think it’s any use. Looks like it’s probably your battery or your starter.”

  She poked her head out the window. “Is that expensive?”

  “A couple hundred bucks, maybe.”

  “Oh.” Her frown deepened as she glanced back at Blake’s place.

  I opened the door. “Let me take you home. I’ll tow it to the shop tomorrow with the shop truck and see what I can do to save you some money.”

  “Really?” Her eyes were so full of unexpected gratitude, I was immediately taken aback. “You’d do that? On a weekend?”

  “Well, sure. The shop’s open.” I tipped my head toward the Jeep. “Come on.”

  She grinned and followed me. Having her so close was intoxicating. Her scent filled the Jeep and I suddenly recognized it. Honeysuckle. Memories of collecting those delicate flowers in spring with my brothers filled me with a pleasant warmth.

  We drove to her place with minimal conversation, just the gentle hum of the radio to fill the air, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable for once. It felt like she not only accepted me for who I was, but embraced it.

  In her darkened parking lot, we sat in silence. She took her truck key off her keyring and handed it to me, but made no move to get out.

  I shoved the key in my pocket then toyed with the steering wheel. “I’m really glad you signed up for my class, Jewel.”

  She faced me. “You are?”

  “Yes.” I bowed my head, trying to force out words that had long been clogged in my chest. I’d almost forgotten they were there, long buried beneath the rubble of my past. “I like knowing you can protect yourself.” I met her gaze. “Every time I hear about that rapist and his victims, I see your face, Jewel, and it honestly freaks me out. I want you safe. More than anything.”

  Her face paled.r />
  “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  She shook her head and glanced down at her lap. “No. I appreciate it.”

  “I don’t want your appreciation. I want you to be okay.”

  Now she did face me. “I am okay.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She straightened in her seat. “What? Of course I—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jewel. You can lie to yourself and everyone else around you, but not me. I live with too much pain to not see it in someone else.” I gripped her hand. Now that the words had started, they were erupting like a geyser. “I don’t know who hurt you or what you’re afraid of, but I’ll do anything in my power to protect you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “Where is all this coming from?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know it’s the truth. It’s how I feel and I’m not sure what to do with it myself since I haven’t felt anything in so long.”

  “But . . .” Her face was illuminated by the moonlight when she turned away. “Why me?”

  “Why not you?”

  The tears were gone when she peered at me again, but she looked about ready to crumble. “Things like this don’t happen to girls like me.”

  “What do you mean ‘girls like you?’”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Look at me, Micah.”

  “I am.” What I saw was fucking stunning. A miracle. How could she not see that?

  She huffed out a breath and shook her head as she reached for the door handle.

  “Wait.” I popped open my door, fueled on instinct. “Don’t. Move.”

  I rounded the hood and yanked open her door, letting the moonlight bathe her entire body as she spun to face me.

  I did not think.

  I did not rationalize.

  I did not fight it.

  I simply obeyed my body as I threaded my fingers through her hair and drew her lips to mine. Her surprised breath tasted sweet on my tongue. I kissed her like my life depended on it. Maybe it did. She moaned and held on to my shoulders in a death grip.

  I felt the moment she relaxed and her body melted. I collected her hair into my fist and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the exposed skin near her shoulder. Her shallow breathing was hot in my ear and I delved in for another taste of her mouth. This time, she moved with me, tasting me as well. Our tongues slid along each other in a sensual dance. She strained to get closer.

  After one last gut-wrenching kiss, I drew away and dropped my forehead to hers. “That. That’s why you.”

  Jewel

  Micah’s taste clung to my lips long after I’d waved goodbye and closed myself into my empty apartment. I found a note from my brother on the dining room table.

  I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.

  Knuckle-noogies,

  J.

  I rolled my eyes and headed to the shower. Glad for the privacy, I rehashed every second of my night and Micah’s kiss as I bathed.

  That’s why you.

  What did that mean? Could he possibly feel for me a fraction of what I did for him? It seemed impossible, yet a tiny part of me clung to hope. Could Nolan have been wrong? Was I wrong about myself?

  I peered down at my wet body and all its roundness and curves and imperfections. My body had always been something I dreamed of changing, never embracing. Even still, after all the counseling and comfort of friends and family, I still had a hard time finding my own worth.

  But I was starting to get it back.

  I touched my stomach. It wasn’t flat. It had never held a child. It also didn’t define me.

  I turned my face to the cascading water and fought to see in myself what Micah said he did. Could he be lying? Trying to make me feel better? Why would he do that?

  His kiss certainly didn’t feel like a lie.

  I cut off the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. After slipping on my nightgown, I slid into bed and grabbed my phone. One new text was waiting.

  Forgot to ask what you’re doing tomorrow . . . do u need ur truck?

  I blinked. Working half a day

  On a Saturday?

  Yes

  OK. I will pick u up in the morning for work. What time?

  I stared at Micah’s words, my heart stumbling. There was nothing especially sweet or gentle about his message, but it still touched me. He was showing he cared in his own way.

  Could I believe in him?

  8 will work . . . thx

  OK see u in the morning. A long moment then, Goodnight.

  I texted him back a goodnight then rolled over to stare out my window and try to sleep.

  I woke with a start to someone pounding on my door. I squinted against the sunlight slanting into my room and checked the clock. 8:08.

  Shit.

  I leapt out of bed and ran to the door, bypassing my brother who was out cold on the couch.

  Micah’s eyes were wide and frantic, his fist raised to bang again. He slowly lowered his hand as he took me in.

  I glanced down at my thin cotton gown and bare feet as I ran a hand through the bird’s nest that was surely my hair. “I’m sorry. I overslept.”

  He nodded, his shoulders relaxing, a half-smile tilting up his mouth.

  I swung the door all the way open. “Come on in. It’ll just take me a couple minutes to throw on some clothes.”

  I spun away and heard the door click behind him. His presence in my apartment suddenly felt very intimate, even with my sleeping brother. I shut myself into my room and heaved a breath. Glancing at my bed, I realized I’d been dreaming of him. Hot, perfect dreams of slick skin sliding along slick skin, writhing, moans.

  I groaned and yanked off my nightie, threw on the first pair of clean jeans I found and a navy blue Baybridge PD polo. I ran a brush through my hair and scooped it into a ponytail as I slid my feet into my Nikes. I gargled some mouthwash, grabbed my purse, and met Micah back in my living room in four minutes flat. “Okay. Ready. Sorry about that.”

  He glanced at the couch. “Your brother?”

  “Yup. I’d introduce you, but he sleeps like a comatose person. No rousing him til he’s good and ready.”

  He nodded his understanding. “You sure you don’t need to do anything else? Breakfast?”

  I shook my head and moved to the door. “I’m fine.” I’d die before letting him see the Pop-Tarts or sugary cereal I would’ve eaten.

  Without a word, he led me out to his Jeep and we headed out. A couple blocks from the station, he pulled into a crowded fast food restaurant drive-thru.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He didn’t face me. “You’ve got to eat.”

  I was temporarily shocked into silence. No man had ever looked out for me other than my dad and brothers, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I studied his hard features. His high cheekbones. That aristocratic nose. Those sculpted lips that could bring me to my knees.

  He drove forward when it was our turn to order then glanced at me, his dark eyes hidden behind his aviators. “Eggs and sausage okay, or would you rather have a breakfast sandwich?”

  “Eggs are fine. But only if you eat with me.”

  The disembodied voice on the speaker crackled between us. He shifted back and ordered two breakfast platters then faced me again. “Milk or orange juice?”

  “Juice is fine.”

  He added two juices to the order and we inched forward.

  “Thank you.”

  He tipped his head. “No big deal.”

  It was to me, but I couldn’t find the words to voice that. Instead, I made a point to eat all my food and try to coax him into conversation as we sat idling in the parking lot of the station.

  “What time are you meeting your friend today?” I asked.

  “I’m waiting for him to call me when he gets into town.”

  I asked him about their time together in the
military, but he shut down like I’d unplugged him. I changed tactics.

  “We’ve made some adjustments to the sketch of the rapist.”

  His head snapped around. “What does that mean?”

  I shrugged and toyed with the straw in my juice. “The last victim got the best look at him and her version was a little different than the other girls. We brought some of them back in and we revisited what they might’ve missed initially.”

  “Is it the same guy?”

  “Yes. It was just some minor differences in the set of his eyes. His hair.” I stifled the shiver that wanted to race through my body every time I thought of that face and how it echoed my most painful memories.

  He acknowledged my words, but his body had become tense, his jaw tight. I opened my door. “Well, I should get to work. Thanks for the ride. And breakfast. And helping with my truck,” I added with a smile. “Guess I owe you big time.”

  He loosened up a tad and waved me off. “You don’t owe me a thing. Have a good day. I’ll let you know about the truck as soon as I figure something out.”

  I nodded and watched him drive away. I peered around the half-full lot as a strange sensation crawled over me like a cold fog. There was not a soul in sight, but I still felt eyes on me. Watching me.

  Cursing my overactive imagination, I went inside the station and got to work.

  It was quiet since it was the weekend, but a few officers and staff still milled about, their conversation humming pleasantly. Several phone calls and a meeting with a robbery victim kept me busy the rest of the morning, giving me hardly any time to think of Micah.

  Of his kiss.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said to the caller on the tip line. “I’m sure your cat does have a good sense of smell—” I glanced up and waved as Officer Varga passed me on his way out the door. I listened to the elderly woman another moment then decided to give up. No point in arguing that cats can’t sniff out perpetrators. “Well, thank you. I will make a note of this and pass it along to the detectives.”