She sits up, and presses her fingers to her temples. “All I know is that my head hurts again.”
I reach into to the nightstand, grab her a dose of medication and offer it to her “Take this,” I order.
She drops her hands and accepts the BC powder, a surprised look on her face. “You really do get headaches.”
“All the damn time,” I say, opening the packet for her and then reaching for the bottle of water I keep on the nightstand.
“And there really is no one that knows?” she asks, holding the powder in front of her.
“No one but you,” I say, “not that I think the Walkers would care. I do my job and do it well. I just prefer to keep things to myself.” I motion to the powder. “Down it.”
She grimaces in anticipation and stuffs it in her mouth, before chugging the water. “Ug,” she says, handing me the bottle. “That’s torture.”
I set the water down and pull her back next to me, her head on my shoulder. “Do you have nightmares often?”
“Never actually and I’m not really having nightmares now. I just keep reliving my uncle’s funeral. Like my mind wants me to see something I’m missing. I have no idea what. Nothing. I’m blank.”
“And the headaches? Do either of your parents get them?”
“My mother,” she says. “We were so alike and yet so different. She wouldn’t have thought you were an asshole, by the way,” she adds, peeking up at me. She settles her head back on my chest. “Because you’re protecting her world. You’d be her hero.”
For the first time in my civilian life, I wake up and I’m not alone. Jewel is still pressed close to me, the sweet floral scent of her teasing my nostrils. Her long hair is draped over my chest, which stirs a few fantasies, like her mouth on my cock, her legs wrapped around my shoulders, and my mouth…
My phone buzzes with a text message, ending that perfect moment in my head, but fuck. I’d rather have the real thing anyway. I do have the real thing. Jewel, right here, in my arms, in my bed. Careful not to wake her up, I glance at the clock, reading the six a.m. hour, and then grab my phone. The message is from Blake and reads: Operation Europe has begun. More soon.
Much needed progress is in motion.
Soon Jewel’s father will be out of the country, and out of the line of the slayer’s fire, which I hope gives her some version of peace. Or at least some ability to breathe. Hell, if I could protect Jewel that easily, I’d already have her on a plane, but it’s not that simple for her or us. Two years of her slayer watching her says he won’t redirect his energy elsewhere. He won’t play his game with someone else. Thinking back to last night’s crime scene, realization hits me. She’s a homicide detective. Did he kill Rodriquez and Gerome to make himself more interesting to her? The idea doesn’t sit well with me and not even Jewel laying all up close and personal next to me can keep me in this bed. Not when I could be up hunting this sick fuck myself.
I ease Jewel onto the pillow next to her and she rolls to her side and sinks deeper under the covers. Comfortable here with me, when she’s usually a loner. Hell, I’m comfortable with her here, too, and I’m a loner. Or I was. I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. I don’t invite women here. I didn’t have to invite her here. She could have stayed in the spare bedroom or in the spare room of one of the brother’s places. Ideas I never even entertained. She’s here now. She’s staying. And this damn fucking slayer isn’t going to take her from me.
I round the bed and head into the bathroom, where I shower and dress in faded jeans and because it would amuse Jewel, I contemplate the T-shirt that I was gifted by Asher that reads “You Suck”. But it also gains me attention that I don’t like or want, so I settle on a plain black tee. Attention is the last thing myself or Jewel need right now. I pause on that thought. Maybe I’m wrong on that. Maybe attention is exactly what we need. If we hyper-focus the slayer where we want him focused, we hit him from behind. I want his focus on me, not Jewel. I take off the black shirt and put the “You Suck” shirt on.
Heading back into the bathroom, I have the razor in my hands to shave, and instead set it down, running a hand over my jaw, remembering Jewel’s comment about the stubble humanizing me. Until now, human was the last thing I wanted to seem to anyone. There’s a knock on the door and I quickly open the door to find Jewel in the doorway, my shirt covering her otherwise naked body. Her blonde hair is in a crazy, sexy disarray.
“Morning,” I say, pulling her to me and right when I would kiss her, she covers my mouth with her hand.
“Morning breath. Don’t even think about it.”
I cover her hand with mine and pull it between us. “No kissing before teeth brushing. Got it.” I kiss her hand. “How is your head?”
She contemplates a moment. “Good. The headache is gone. That’s how it happens. I just forget about it and realize later that it’s gone.” She switches gears. “I know it’s early, but any news on anything this morning?”
“Blake has the plan in motion to get your father out of the country. Other than that, nothing yet.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be at the coffee pot.” I step around her and stop at the door, turning back to look at her as she does the same with me, and my need for this woman comes over me hard and fast.
“Unpack,” I order. “Claim a sink and part of the closet. You’re here. I’m not letting you go anywhere anytime soon.” I turn to leave before she can argue, but she calls me back.
“Jacob.”
I brace myself for whatever comes next, when I’ve never had to brace myself for anything a woman said to me. “Yes, sweetheart?” I say, looking back at her.
“Why does your shirt say, ‘You Suck’?”
“It’s a message to the slayer. He sucks and I’m coming for him.”
Her lips curve. “I really like the shirt.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And the stubble.”
Now, I actually smile, because fuck, she’s here. “See you downstairs.” I start to turn again.
“One last thing,” she says, and when I look at her, she continues, “I don’t want to go anywhere anytime soon.” And she doesn’t stop there. “That’s the funny thing about waking up here with you this morning. I liked it.”
I close the space between us, pull her to me, and press my lips to hers, before setting her away from me. I leave the room. I walk past the bed that she shared with me last night, and I know that I don’t want to go to bed without her again.
It’s insanity. It’s total fucking insanity.
I don’t want to need anyone. She doesn’t want to need anyone, and yet, here we are. Here I am and holy hell, I can’t stop it from happening. I reach the kitchen and stop beside the island, pressing my hands to the granite surface. This just got personal for me in a big way and as I once told Jewel, when things get personal for me my enemies find out just how cold, hard, and ugly my anger is.
I start a cup of coffee brewing and walk to the coat-rack where I’d hung Jewel’s bag, which holds my MacBook and hers, last night. I retrieve it and return to the kitchen, bringing my Mac to life, while pouring straight liquid creamer into my cup, along with four Splendas. Once I sit down at the island, cup beside me, I pull up my email and download the mass of reports Blake and Asher have sent me. I print them all out, and by the time they’re clipped and organized on the island, I’m on coffee number three.
My cellphone rings as Jewel, dressed in black jeans and a black sweater and boots, which contrast with her hair, heads down the stairs. I glance at the caller ID, when I’d rather keep my eyes on her, but the instant I spy Savage’s number, I answer the line. “What’s happening?”
“Holy fuck. Carpenter is in complete freak-out mode. If that man wasn’t so fit, I’d be afraid he was going to stroke out on me. If I stop responding to messages, I’m dead.”
“What happened to the killer at his back?”
“He just met the CEO side of Jewel’s father and I’m about to suck my thumb in a corner.”
<
br /> “Fuck, man. I want photos of that. What’s his plan?”
“He’s chartering a plane right now,” he says.
Jewel steps to the other side of island and I glance at her while answering him. “Keep me posted,” I say, and disconnect the line. “Your father is scaring Savage.”
She laughs. “What happened to the killer?”
“Exactly what I said.”
She reaches for my coffee cup and sips. “Hmmm. I like this. Thank you. I’ll keep it.” She smiles and takes another sip.
“You can share,” I say, taking it from her and drinking. “I’ll make another cup when it’s gone.”
“I’m good at sharing,” she says. “Although I did let you eat my peanut butter. That was big for me.”
“I’m not good at sharing either.” I lean on the counter. “I damn sure don’t want to share you.”
She leans on the counter as well, facing me. Moving into my words, not away from them. “Who said you have to?” she asks.
“No fireman. No anyone but me.”
“The same goes in reverse.”
“Sweetheart, if I wanted anyone else, you’d be in Blake and Kara’s spare bedroom right now. And I damn sure wouldn’t have told you to claim a sink and part of the closet.”
“Well then, you can have the peanut butter. I’m okay with that.”
I smile and reach up and touch her cheek. “You’re beautiful. I know you try to hide it by braiding your hair more days than not and being touchy with everyone, but you don’t.”
She catches my hand. “Thank you. And you aren’t actually an asshole, but you were easier to hate when I thought you were. The truth is, you don’t suck.”
I laugh. “You are a piece of work, woman.”
“And you’re laughing again. I’m kind of addicted to hearing you laugh.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yes. It’s very right. And Jacob, I have to be honest—”
Her cellphone rings before her confession, and she grabs her phone where it sits on the island. “Speak of the devil, otherwise known as my CEO father.” She hits the answer button. “Hey Dad. How are you?” She listens a moment and gives me a look. “That sounds bad. Yes. Of course. I’m fine. I have this big-ass army dude following me around. I’m safe, but I can’t promise the same of him.” She smiles at me. “Okay. I promise to play nice. Not really. Yes. Okay. Just be safe. Love you, too.” She disconnects. “He was his normal gentle self to me, but then, I’m his daughter, and Savage is Savage. And my dad is a CEO, who protects his company and his people like they’re his family. Because that’s all he allows in his life.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“Meaning me?”
“Meaning both of us. Two sides—”
“—of the same coin,” she supplies, and the air thickens between us.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” I say. “We are, which is why we’re going to work together and get your slayer. I pulled all the reports Blake and Asher sent for us to go through today. He’s hiding somewhere in here and we’re going to find him.”
“As much as I want to catch him, I have to deal with my case headed to trial. That’s the reason I was going to meet Gerome last night and I can’t push it aside. A man killed his wife and unborn child, Jacob, and the only way to ensure he goes to jail is finding the bodies.”
I study her a moment with the understanding that she has a need for control right now. She’s shutting out the slayer as she tried to shut me out, only in this case, she gets to win. I understand what it’s like to bury yourself in one war to shut out the one raging in your mind. I understand how defeating one enemy makes you feel strong enough to defeat the next. Which is exactly why I’ll help her now. I’ll protect her. I’ll keep her head on straight. “I’m all in on putting this guy away, but we can multi-task and home in on Gerome, but you know, I’m sure that Rodriquez set you up, even if he didn’t know he was setting you up. Gerome may never have had anything to do with this case.”
“I do know,” she says, sitting down on a barstool, “but really, truly, I’m desperate. This man is guilty. I can’t let him get away with it.”
“Why did they charge him if they weren’t sure they could win?”
“Political pressure. I wanted them to wait, but I lost that battle.”
I grab a stack of papers. “This one is everything we know about Gerome. I don’t have anything on Darius other than a bio.”
She grabs the Gerome stack and starts looking through it. “He has no connections to my uncle, which makes sense. He’s only been here for six months. Interestingly though, he arrived in the city right about the time the murder took place. Right about the time the defendant killed his wife and child.”
“That certainly supports Gerome as a suspect,” I say, “but it feels too tidy. You’re on this case. Rodriquez has a connection to the slayer—we know this because of the card—and he has financial ties to Gerome. Yet he leads you to Gerome and they both end up dead. What does the slayer have to do with the CEO billionaire that killed his wife and baby?”
“Well,” she says thoughtfully. “What if Rodriquez found out about Gerome hiding the bodies and he wanted Gerome to go down? But the slayer felt Gerome could lead me to him and he was pissed that Rodriquez jeopardized his game.”
“Maybe, but I am not big on coincidences as explanations. And it feels too coincidental to me that the slayer would be involved with a man who hid bodies for someone you arrested and charged.”
“Whatever the case, Jacob. I just need to find those bodies. Do we have phone records on Gerome? I need to know if he communicated with the defendant.”
There’s a knock on the door. “And that would be some version of a Walker,” I say. “No one else can get to us here.” I stand up and walk to the door to find Asher and Sierra waiting there, both in sweats, and briefcases on their shoulders.
“You Suck,” Asher says, reading my shirt. “Did you wear that for me, or what?”
“I expected you. It’s my mental chant when you’re around.”
Asher laughs. “Back at ya, Tin Man.”
“We want to talk about the slayer,” Sierra says, anxiety in her tone, obviously ready to push past our bullshit.
“Did something happen that I don’t know about?” I ask.
“No,” Asher replies. “Sierra just wants to talk about how to make something happen our way.”
“Making something happen our way works for me,” I say, stepping back into the apartment and waving them onward. “Jewel is in the kitchen,” I say, shutting the door behind them and following. Of course, all the normal, expected chitchat I really don’t care for ensues before we finally gather around the island, them on one side and Jewel and I on the other, focused on the slayer problem.
“I have a suggestion to deal with the slayer,” Sierra says again, this time, for Jewel’s ears. “And before I share it, I want you to know that I called a few experts and asked advice. None of us can say what is the right or wrong move, but the general consensus agreed with me.”
“Tell us,” I say, impatient for any plan that might end this hell.
“Yes, tell us,” Jewel says, her energy just as impatient as mine.
“He needs control,” Sierra says. “If you stay locked up in this building for long enough, he’ll feel he no longer has it. He’ll do something to drive you out, and that something will have to be big. He’ll expose himself and we’ll catch him.”
I answer before Jewel gets the chance. “As much as I’m down with the idea of locking Jewel up and keeping her safe, to me, that’s giving him control. That says he has the power to make her hide.”
“He’s proven to be patient,” Jewel adds, “and I have to live my life and do my job. He’ll know that. He’ll try to wait me out.”
“He’s set the game in action,” Sierra argues. “He left you three gifts in a row. He’s hungry to keep going. I don’t think it would take long to push his buttons.”
“Even i
f that’s true,” I say. “I don’t want him to come for her. We need a plan that makes him come for me.”
“No,” Jewel says, looking at me. “You aren’t getting killed to get rid of someone who doesn’t want me dead in the first place. The end. Do you understand me?”
“Jewel—”
“Do not do this,” she says. “I will leave. I will shut you out of this if you start playing hero. And no matter what, we aren’t doing this right now. I have to find a dead pregnant woman in time to put her scumbag husband in prison for the rest of his life.” She turns away from me and looks at Asher. “I need to find out if the scumbag husband in this case ever communicated with Gerome. I was led to him by Rodriquez. If Gerome connects to the husband, then Gerome is the key to finding the bodies.”
Asher smartly goes along for the ride. He pulls his MacBook from his briefcase. “I can get you those answers. I already know the case.” He glances at her. “I watched the hearing on TV. Bastard tried to seduce you with all his money and you arrest him instead. I fucking love it.”
So do I, I think. Holy hell, I fucking love everything there is to know about Jewel, aside from the heartache and pain that just set her off. She’s afraid of me dying. I get it. I’m just as fucking afraid of her dying. It’s a curse of our pasts we’re going to have to deal with. Right after I deal with her slayer. Because she might not be able to do this now, but I damn sure can.
“There’s no digital link between the dirt-bag killer and Gerome,” Asher says, “But Gerome operated off the radar aside from a few clients that contract him for private investigative work. Of course, that’s a cover up. For his real clients, he’d take a referral and meet the client in person. He operated in cash. He didn’t keep records.”
“What about Darius?” I ask, looking for a target I can take out.
“The FBI has eyes on Darius,” Asher says, “He’s in Germany, which doesn’t mean he isn’t working for the slayer. It just means he’s doing it from a distance.”
“And he’s not the slayer,” Jewel assumes.
I shake my head. “I disagree. He could be using hired help to leave the gifts and even watch you. I don’t think we rule out Darius.”
Falling Under: a standalone Walker Security novel Page 22
