* * *
Holding Sweetie, Vicki watched Juan carry Bell up the cabin steps. Once on the porch, she gave the area a quick glance. Night claimed them. The darkness clung to the trees like a threat. Only a few lights showed in the distance. She hoped Juan was right about them being safe here.
It had taken Vicki fifteen minutes to get Bell to calm down. No doubt the crazy day and sensing Vicki’s panic had stirred up the nightmare. They’d stopped off and gotten hamburgers and shakes. Then Bell fell back asleep.
Vicki, arms full of some of her things and a poodle, shut the door and put the dog down. Standing in the living room, Vicki glanced around. The fishing cabin, as Juan had described it, wasn’t as rustic as she’d imagined it.
“I’ll put her in one of the bedrooms,” Juan said.
She nodded, taking in the granite countertops and a tile floor that looked like wood. The walls held posters of different kinds of fish. The sofa and chair were brown leather and huge. The kind you sank into and didn’t want to leave.
Juan said the cabin had been left to his brother and him when his parents had passed. When more cabins started popping up and the lake became a little bit of a tourist area, they’d done some work on it and rented it out as an Airbnb. Luckily it was empty for the next week.
She set down a bag of snacks Juan had picked up when he’d gotten gas and leaned her baseball bat against the wall.
You know I have a gun, right? Juan had asked when she’d added the bat to the list of things to get from her place. She’d said it had belonged to her father and had sentimental value, which wasn’t a complete lie. The fact that the sentiment had nothing to do with her dad shouldn’t be important. The baseball bat was her security blanket.
Juan walked out. “Bell’s awake and requesting your presence.”
“Thanks.” Vicki stepped into the bedroom and Bell held on to Sweetie like a teddy bear.
“Hey.” Vicki sank into the mattress beside her niece.
The child looked up, sleepy and concerned. “Why did we come here?”
Vicki had known she would ask, but she hadn’t come up with the best answer yet. “Uh, Juan wanted us to see his cabin.”
“And that’s all?” she asked.
“Yeah.” God, she hated lying to a child.
“’Cause you’re acting the same way you did when we left Phoenix and California. We’re not leaving, are we?” Worry pulled at her thin voice.
“Not yet.” Vicki pushed a strand of hair off her face.
“I don’t want to leave. I love Sweetie and Juan. I know he’s not your boyfriend, but you said he was a good guy. I like it here.” A soft whimper left her lips.
The air in Vicki’s chest thickened. “Honey, we’re not—”
“And I like Mildred. And Suzie. I don’t want to leave.”
Vicki inhaled. “I’m not saying we’re going. We’ll have to see, okay?”
Bell’s brown eyes glistened with tears. “Don’t you like it here? Juan’s nice. He likes you, even if you aren’t his girlfriend. Don’t you like him?”
“Yeah, I like him.” Too much.
* * *
Juan came in with more of their things from the car just as Vicki stepped out of the bedroom.
“Do I need to grab some more stuff?”
“No. I’ve got it all. You have to be exhausted.” He worried the stress might bring on another infection. He probably shouldn’t have had sex with her, either.
“Did you want to put her in her pajamas? I got her clothes.”
“Nah. She’s asleep.” Vicki looked around. “Who decorated this place?”
“Christina and…Angie. With directions from Ricky and me. No lace, no overabundance of throw pillows, no Norman Rockwell paintings.”
“Norman Rockwell?” She looked up.
“He’s an artist born in the late 1800s. Did nostalgic paintings of life, wholesome scenes. Family dinner stuff.”
“I know who he is. My mom had some of his prints.”
“So did my mom. She had them all over our house.” He ran a hand over his face. “I think she thought if she hung enough of them on the walls, we’d become like the paintings.”
Vicki lifted a brow. “I guess that’s why my mom liked them, too.” She yawned.
Juan moved in and pulled her against him. Damn, she felt good. “You okay?” He looked down at her.
“Yeah.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Don’t forget to take your antibiotic.” He motioned to where he’d set out her pills on the counter.
She locked her hands around his neck. “Thank you for everything you’re doing.”
“You don’t have to say thank you.”
“I do. While my mama had many flaws, she insisted on manners.”
“She did a good job,” he said.
“I wouldn’t go that far. In fact, most of my parenting skills come from doing the opposite of what she did.”
“Sorry.” His body responded to her closeness, but he told his libido to take a hike. She needed rest.
She pulled away. “Can I get a glass of water?”
“You don’t have to ask. Actually, sit down and I’ll get it for you.”
“I can—”
“Sit,” he said.
She did as he told her and he set the water and bag that contained her pills in front of her. He went to pull out her pills and her phone spilled out too.
He looked at it. “You took the batteries out of it like I asked, right?”
“Yeah. They’re in the bag, but no one has this number except Joanne Butler.”
“Just to be safe. Cell phones are traceable by anyone. I left mine at home. I’m using a burner right now.”
She took the pill, then stood up and moved to the bag with the snacks. “It claims I need to take it with food.”
She pulled out a pack of the mini powdered donuts he’d picked up at the service station when he’d gotten gas, opened it, and ate one. Moving to stand in front of her, he brushed some white sugar off her bottom lip. She set the donut package down and looked up. “Is it really going to be over?”
“Yeah.”
“Has the DNA come back?”
“Not yet.”
“Then how do they know he’s alive?” The worry crease between her brows deepened.
“One of Jody’s men went back to the scene and found Willis had a nanny cam.”
Tears filled Vicki’s eyes. “She was so nice. She didn’t deserve this.”
“I know.” He put his hands on her shoulders. She leaned her head on his chest. They stood like that for over a minute. Her gentle weight felt good against him. Crazy how good someone leaning against you could make you feel stronger, more solid, grounded.
He moved his hands down to her waist and she inched closer to him. He started swaying side to side. The only sound echoing in the cabin was of their feet sliding on the tile. Even the appliances seemed to hold their breath. His hand eased up and down her spine.
“Are we dancing?” A hint of humor laced her words.
“You like to dance?” He peered down at her.
“I like this. But I suck at dancing,” she said.
He smiled. “I doubt that.”
She set her chin on his chest and looked up at him. Her hazel eyes held the slightest smile. The wrinkle between her brows had smoothed out again. Dipping his head down, he pressed his mouth against hers.
He let himself savor the moment, the sweetness of powdered donuts, the softness of her mouth. As he was about to pull away, she deepened the kiss.
When it ended, he brushed a finger over her lips. “You know, I don’t think…You should rest tonight. In fact, if you’d prefer you have the master, I can sleep on the sofa. Or you can sleep with Bell.” He paused. “I mean, I don’t know how sleeping arrangements are handled with children.”
Vicki’s front teeth pressed into her bottom lip. “To be honest, I haven’t dealt with it yet. Wait, I take that back. When Alison and Bell lived with me and
Dan…” She stopped talking. “It wasn’t an issue. This shouldn’t be, either.”
“Good,” he said, but thinking about her sleeping with another man didn’t feel that good. He pushed that thought away. “This morning was amazing.” He swiped her bottom lip, still damp from their kiss, with his thumb.
“I know.” Her smile reached her eyes, then she shifted her gaze to the table.
He saw the silk flowers there and remembered the arrangement she’d gotten earlier. He glanced back at Vicki and the confession just slipped out. “I should have sent you flowers today instead of Suzie’s dad.”
“No. You didn’t—”
“Yeah,” he said, not liking the jealousy he heard in his voice. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
She chuckled. “You know I’ve never…I’ve hardly spoken with him.”
“I know.” His hand lowered to the small of her back. “I’m…rusty at the whole relationship thing.”
“Me too.” She chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve sent you flowers. I think the score was three to one.” No sooner than the words left her lips, her face blushed and he could tell she wished she hadn’t said that. He liked her mix of shyness and brazenness. He liked her.
He laughed. “As it should be.” He felt blood start to pump south. “I’m happy you moved next door.”
“So am I.” She brushed his bangs off his forehead. “But seriously? I’ve turned your life upside down.”
“Yeah, but it needed turning.”
She kissed him. While his tongue slipped inside her mouth, her hand slipped under his shirt. The brush of her soft palm moving over his abdomen had him hardening. When it ended, he asked, “You sure you shouldn’t just rest?”
“I’m sure,” she said seductively.
“Then you want to move to the bedroom?”
She nodded. They left the living room. He shut and locked the door. Her hazel gaze looked up at him with desire.
He grinned. “You’re going to have to keep from screaming this time.”
“I did not scream.” She moved toward him, her hips swaying.
He laughed. “You did.”
He caught her and pulled her close. She started unfastening his shirt. Her touch, easing down a button at a time, had him holding his breath.
When he lost his outer shirt, he pulled off his shoulder holster and gun and set them aside. Then he tugged his T-shirt up, slow and easy, for her pleasure.
She moved in and slid her hands down his chest again. Palms soft as silk brushed down his stomach, but stopped at the waist of his jeans. He kicked off his shoes. She kissed his chest as he loosened his belt and unzipped his pants.
She took a tiny step back and her smile came off as sexy, sweet, and so soul-spinning that the world as he knew it spiraled out of control. His life was changing. Right now, right here…with her.
He caught the hem of her shirt, pulled it up and off. Her bra, the same pink as her shirt, was almost too pretty to take off. Almost. Reaching behind her, he released the hooks without a hitch.
The sexy fabric slipped to the floor. Her breasts were soft globes with dark rose-colored tips. Globes that fit perfectly in his palms.
“Damn, you’re pretty.” He unsnapped her shorts and added them to the pile of clothes at their feet.
He eased her closer to the bed.
When the backs of her knees came against the mattress, she fell back. Leaning up on her elbows, she stared, bold and brazen, at the bulge behind his boxers.
He ran his thumb under the elastic of his underwear. “You think I could lose these?”
She nodded and her cheeks blushed again.
His body, already primed and pumped, begged for release. “Only if you remove yours.”
She reached down, lifted her hips, and slid off her panties. He got harder at the peek of moist pink skin between her legs.
“Your turn.” Her words came out breathless.
He pushed the cotton down his legs. Hard and ready, he stepped out of the clothing and crawled into the bed. She slipped her hand down between their bodies and fisted his sex.
A moan escaped his lips. “I don’t know how much of that I can handle.”
“Then I guess you’ll have a hard time with this, too.” She pushed him on his back and eased down the mattress. He watched as her lips came around his shaft and took him deeper. His sex throbbed. He let her take him inside her mouth once more before he pulled away. “I want to be inside you.” He got out of bed and rolled on a condom.
Back in bed, he slipped his hand between her legs and found her wet and ready. As eager as he was to find release, once he pressed himself inside her, he wanted to savor the feeling.
Slow and easy. In and out. Deep, then shallow. Gentle moves. Staring into her eyes, he entered her harder with each stroke. Her breathing came quicker. Her eyes closed. When she came, she bent her head back and a sweet sound of pleasure spilled out. He pressed his mouth against hers and caught the sound.
When she finished, he grinned. “Told you, you screamed.”
She blushed again. He laughed. He pulled her closer, then sank into her again. “Damn this is good. Come again,” he growled. “Come on. Do it, Angie.” His orgasm hit. He went to pull her against him, but she stiffened. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No.”
The words I love you climbed up from that soft place in his chest and sat on the tip of his tongue. Then, unexpectedly, an image of Angie filled his mind and the words dissolved. How, he wondered, could he feel so goddamned wonderful and guilty at the same time?
* * *
He’d called her Angie. That hurt. It could’ve been just a slip of the tongue. It could’ve been…But the sex had been…more intimate, more…Juan had made love to her. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if in his mind he’d made love to her or his late wife?
Stepping from the shower, she donned a nightshirt and walked back into the bedroom. The patio doors were open. She moved over and saw Juan standing there, staring out. He’d slipped on a pair of sweats but was shirtless. When she noticed the tightness of his shoulders, fear hit.
“Is someone out there?” she asked, hugging herself.
He turned around. “No. It’s fine. I just stepped out.” His gaze met her eyes. “Your worry wrinkle is back.”
She reached up and ran a finger over the center of her forehead.
“It’s safe here.” He reached for her, slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m not going to let him hurt you. Trust me, okay?”
She looked up at him. “I do,” she said. And it was mostly true. She trusted him with her life. It was her heart she worried about.
Not that she could be angry about it. She’d gone into this knowing he still loved his wife. He was helping her. They were attracted to each other. They were adults. She just needed to remember that this wasn’t a happily-ever-after fairy tale.
In fact, when it was over, she’d be going back to Los Angeles. Connecting with her old clients. Restarting her business. Resuming her life. She just needed to enjoy this for what it was. Respect. Attraction. And good sex.
She needed to protect her heart. And Bell’s, she thought. She wasn’t the only one falling for Juan.
Her lingering thought of returning to California and restarting her business reminded her of who wouldn’t be there. Marisol. “I’m going to check on Bell.”
* * *
Juan watched Vicki walk back inside, leaving him alone on the balcony. Was he just imagining something was wrong with her because of what he was feeling?
He ran a hand down his face. His fingers still smelled like her. He looked up at the sky. The stars were bright, and a breeze shifted in the trees. How many times had he come to the cabin since Angie had died and stood in this very spot and talked to her like she was still here? He glanced back inside. He’d made love to Angie in that same bed.
Right then, his phone, left in the kitchen, rang. A
s he moved to answer it, he noted the time on the bedside clock. Eleven-thirty. Who would be calling…?
He checked the number before answering. Jody’s number stared back at him. “Hey…what’s up?”
“I’m afraid this call isn’t going to be good,” she said.
Chapter Thirty
Juan stood in the kitchen, hating every word Jody spilled.
“Shit,” he muttered when she stopped talking.
Right then he heard footsteps behind him. He turned.
“What is it?” Vicki asked.
The look in her eyes had his stomach clenching. This was going to hurt her.
“Okay,” Jody’s voice carried through the line. “I’ll call you if we learn anything else.”
“Yeah.” He hung up.
“What is it?” Vicki repeated.
He motioned to the sofa.
“What? It wasn’t Pablo on the tape? They don’t believe me anymore?” She dropped down. The couch sighed with her weight. She gazed at him and clenched her hands in her lap.
“It’s not that.” He sat beside her and considered how to tell her, but realized there was no good way. “Jody’s men weren’t able to contact Dan Jefferies. So she sent them to his house. His car was there but no one answered. They went around back and found a window had been broken.”
Her eyes went round, then she shook her head. “No. He…he could still be in Denmark. He could have taken an Uber to the airport. He did that sometimes.”
He reached for her hand. “His luggage was there. And they found some smears on his floor that they think are blood.”
She gasped. “Please, no!”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes closed. Tears still leaked out. “It’s my fault. First Marisol and now Dan.” She drew in a shaky breath.
“Hey.” He touched her face. “Look at me. This is not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. He wouldn’t have gone after them if not for me.”
“I get that, but you didn’t have anything to do with what he did. You can’t be responsible for what some monster did.”
And just like that, his own words echoed inside him. How many times had he heard those same words from Dr. Murdock?
Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2) Page 29
