By the time she’d gone quiet, he’d run the gamut. First, he’d felt terrible for her friend, then he’d been angry, but the feeling that seemed to stick with him through it all was the fear. How could Sadie have done something so foolhardy?
When he thought of how close she’d come to an unfathomable horror, he wanted to howl in fury.
He pulled into his driveway before turning to face her, every muscle in his body taut. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
He tried so hard to keep his voice level, but he failed miserably as he bit off another round of curses.
“Jesus, Sadie, he almost killed you. Why didn’t you call me before you went there? I could’ve at least been there as a back up. This was beyond careless. And what about your sister? Where would she be if something happened to you?” he demanded.
A silence fell over the car and suddenly, she burst into tears.
Jake stared helplessly as Sadie covered her face with her hands, her entire frame shaking with wracking sobs.
"I'm sorry...I d-don't know what's gotten into me," she babbled through her hands brokenly, "I'm not a crier, and I know you’re right. It was stupid. It's just been a really hard few months, and-"
"Shh," he murmured, her tears deflating his anger like a popped balloon. "It's okay. I'm sorry I shouted. Seeing you like that, and imagining what might've happened if you hadn't gotten away from him..." He shut the nausea-inducing thought down and reached out to tug her into his arms, cradling her like she was a child. "You scared the shit out of me," he said, finally.
And he hated it. Hated that this woman had already steeped herself into his world enough that the very thought of something happening to her made his blood run cold. So he'd yelled at her, but now, as she quaked in his arms, he realized how insensitive he'd been. If he'd been scared, what must she have felt like as a man who outweighed her by almost a hundred pounds closed his hands around her neck?
The urge to return to that parking lot and back over that son of a bitch with his car was so strong he fairly shook with it.
But right now, Sadie clearly needed him. All the pressure she'd been facing --from her sister's illness and her financial worries to feeling responsible for this Monica and her trouble-- had finally come to a head. Tough as she was, everyone had a breaking point, and Sadie had reached hers.
"Come inside with me. Let me look at your neck, let me make you some tea." He pulled back and locked gazes with her, his heart squeezing as he took in her tear-stained face. "Let me take care of you, Sadie."
Her sobs had slowed to long, ragged breaths as she searched his face with her big, sad eyes. "I'm the one who takes care of people, Jake. I don't get taken care of. That's not what I do."
For some reason, that simple declaration hit him right in the gut. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Tonight, you do. And tomorrow, if you want to go back to being 'I don't need anyone else, I'm an army of one' Sadie, that's fine. I won't argue. But tonight, let me do this. I need to do this."
For a second he thought she was going to insist he take her home but then she nodded. "Okay."
He made his way around to the passenger's side and opened the door, taking in her wince as he helped her out of the car.
"We can bandage up that elbow, too," he said as he led her up the walkway.
"It’s just a scrape. Better to let it air out. And I have to call my apartment once we're settled. I told Monica I would be home later and I don't want her to worry," she said, leaning into him for support as they walked.
Strong, responsible Sadie. Still thinking of others no matter how bad her own shit got.
He wanted to kick himself for even hesitating when she'd called. Sadie was exactly who he thought she was. A fighter who did what she had to do to get by. Same as him.
He pulled away reluctantly to unlock the door and then led her inside. For some reason, he made sure to lock both the door and the deadbolt behind him. Not that there was any chance Dominic would be following them, but he wanted Sadie to feel like she could finally relax. No one was going to hurt her here.
He flipped on the hall light as they passed and headed into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and gestured to it. "Sit."
She lowered herself onto the chair with a shuddering sigh. "My neck is feeling better already. It was more scary than anything, not being able to get air in." She covered the offending spot with both hands and he gently tugged them away.
When the mottled bruises, already turning from red to an ugly shade of maroon, came into view, he had to close his eyes to collect himself. When he opened them, she was staring at him, her brows drawn together in a frown.
"I'm okay, Jake. Truly. And thanks to you, it looks like everything is going to be okay. He doesn't know who I am, and can't connect me to Monica." She gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. "It was ugly, but the job is done now."
He nodded and straightened, making his way toward the medicine cabinet.
"Not much we can do for your neck, but we can clean up the elbow and bandage it."
"I'd like to take a bath first, if that's okay?" She cleared her throat and bowed her head. "I feel..."
Dirty.
She didn't have to say it. The word hung in the air between them. And somehow, he knew deep down, that it wasn't just the smoky grime of the bar that she needed to scrub away.
"Absolutely. Use the master bath. It's got a huge soaking tub. I'll make you some tea with honey and get you something to change into."
She pushed herself to her feet and crossed the kitchen toward the hallway, but paused in the doorway. "I appreciate this Jake. More than you could ever know."
She was gone before he could reply, which was probably for the best. His throat felt tight and the way he was feeling right now --emotions so close to the surface after a night of sheer hell-- he might've said something he'd live to regret. He sucked in a steadying breath and focused on the task at hand, moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. He made up a small tray with the tea and some oatmeal for her in case she hadn't taken the time to eat.
He carried it all into the master bedroom and paused in front of the bathroom door.
"Sadie?" he called, holding the tray in one hand and knocking lightly on the door with the other. She didn't answer, and he knocked a second time, a little harder. "Sadie?"
He pressed his ear to the door and was met with silence. A dozen grim thoughts passed through his mind and, still on edge from the drama of the rest of the night, reacted without a second thought. Hot tea sloshed onto his hand as he yanked on the knob, shoving hard.
Flesh squealed against porcelain as she lurched upright, bubbles clinging to her.
"Holy crap, is everything okay?" she asked, eyes wide as saucers.
He was so relieved she hadn't succumbed to some hidden injury or fallen asleep and drown that he slumped against the vanity for a second before facing her. "Yeah, fine. Sorry to barge in. I called and you didn't answer, and I-"
"Thought I was so distraught, I'd decided to drown myself?" she asked, a hint of the old Sadie humor evident in her tone and the half-smile tugging at her lips.
"It sounds dumb when you say it out loud, but that was one of the many thoughts that crossed my mind," he admitted with a rueful grin.
She must've just realized how exposed she was because she sank back into the bubbles, cheeks pink from the heat of the water going a deep shade of rose. "It's okay. It's nice to have someone worry about me, to be honest."
He set the tray down and gestured toward the cup.
"You want to drink it now?"
She nodded hesitantly and he brought it over. She blew on it and then drank deeply, sighing with contentment. "That's so soothing," she murmured, before draining the cup and handing it back to him.
“Do you want some oatmeal?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat right now, but thank you.”
The adrenaline had started to slow and he realized that she'd stripped off her w
ig and her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose knot. His gaze was locked on the silky mass and the words were out before he could think better of them.
"Can I wash it for you?"
She regarded him through puzzled eyes. "You want to wash my hair?" she asked softly.
In for a penny... "I do."
She hesitated and then nodded. "Okay. I guess that would be all right."
He took the cup from her unresisting fingers and set it on the vanity behind him. Then, he stepped onto the riser the tub sat upon and knelt on the rug beside it.
With sure hands, he reached for her dark mane and tugged it loose from its confines. Unleashed, it swept in a fall of waves over her shoulders, long enough to skim the frothy bath water.
She stayed stock still as he reached behind her, upending a glass he kept by the sink and dunking it into the bathwater. His forearm brushed the side of her breast and she gasped, but didn't move away. He waited for his body to react...to her nakedness, to her nearness, to the feel of her skin, but all he felt was the need to comfort her.
He urged her to tip her head back and slowly poured the water over her hair. She lay motionless under his ministrations, pour after pour, until her hair was drenched.
He reached for the shampoo and squeezed some into his hands and then began working it into her hair, starting at her crown and then down. He took his time, massaging her scalp, working the soap into a thick lather, and with each passing second, her breathing grew lower and slower, her muscles going slack, her body sinking deeper into the water.
The fact that she trusted him enough to let herself relax moved him beyond words. When he was done, he stood and got fresh, warm water from the faucet and rinsed the suds away. She was almost comatose by the time he'd finished with conditioner.
"Sadie," he murmured.
"Hmm?" Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was fighting to get them open again.
"You have to wake up now and rinse off. There is a towel here for you and a fluffy robe on the door."
She opened one eye and then let it slide shut again. "Mmmhmm."
He grinned, and stood. "Not good enough. If I leave you in here half asleep you actually might drown this time."
Her eyes remained closed and she held up her arms wordlessly. His grin faded as he got the gist of what she was asking.
She wanted him to do it. She wanted him to help her out of the tub and dry her off.
He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. The hair washing had been one thing, but toweling off a buck naked Sadie was something else entirely. He could do it, but it was going to cost him a night's sleep, of that he had no doubt.
He was already plotting out a hero’s breakfast for this act of chivalry when she shivered.
"The water's getting cold."
Steeling himself, he grabbed the bath towel and hoisted Sadie from the water. She stood on wobbling legs as he quickly wrapped the towel around her, toga-style. But not quickly enough to avoid seeing her entire body in its silky glory. The memory of it would be burned into his brain forever, but tonight? Tonight he was her knight in shining armor, and he wasn’t about to blow it by gawking at her like a teenage boy.
Once her towel was secure and he'd wrapped another around her head, he bent low and scooped her into his arms.
Her head nestled instantly into the crook of his neck and she slid her arms around him.
He aggressively ignored his own bed and made his way to the large spare room across the hall. When he laid her down on top of the covers, she opened her eyes for a second and met his gaze.
"Don’t leave,” she whispered.
It was sure to be the final nail in the coffin, but he couldn’t refuse her. Not tonight.
She shimmied and shifted until she was beneath the covers and he rounded the other side of the bed to join her. He stripped off his dress shirt and pants, and climbed in beside her in his boxers, saying a litany of prayers under his breath.
He hadn’t lay in a bed with a woman without having sex with her since he was a child, and, for a time, he was sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink. But when Sadie tugged the towel from her hair and scooted closer to wrap her arm around his waist and burrow her head against his chest, nothing so foreign had ever felt so right.
13
Sadie's eyelids were heavier than she could ever remember them feeling, and still, when she flicked them open to glance at the clock she saw…nothing.
The bedside table beside her was a cool, black surface devoid of anything at all. Not her nightstand with the dog-eared JD Robb book she’d picked up from the Goodwill, or the photo of her mother as a child --the only family picture she allowed herself to have displayed.
Nope. She was definitely not in her own bed.
Brain still bleary, she swallowed and found her throat feeling strangely raw and constricted. She tried to raise her hand to her neck but she was pinned to the mattress by a large male arm slung lazily over her mid-section.
Jake's arm. She was in Jake's house, the spare room.
And her throat--
She closed her eyes, willing herself not to remember the night before in vivid, horrible detail, but the images flooded her mind so quickly that the onslaught made her heart drum even faster in her chest.
Dominic.
The pool game.
The whole, miserable thing.
And then Jake.
Jake who’d clearly dropped everything to get to her side and save her like it was what he'd been born to do.
Jake who took care of everything, including her, without asking for a thing in return. The thought of him washing her hair made her already-sore throat clog with unshed tears. He’d been so unbearably tender with her…
She snuggled in closer, allowing the warmth of his body to spread through her while she rehashed it all in her head, trying to make sense of it. Make sense of them.
He'd been like a knight out of a fairy tale. And she? She'd been careless. Worse than careless, even. She'd been naive and stupid, breaking every rule she’d been taught and even some she’d created.
She'd known Dominic was a dangerous man, and she'd messed with him anyway with barely a thought of what might happen to her or Monica if things went south. And, worse, with barely a thought of what would happen to Clarissa if Jake hadn't been there to save her.
A pang shot through her heart as she considered her sister, struggling to get by as it was. Sadie couldn't put her at risk like that again, not now and not ever.
This poker game was it. The last con. It had to be. For Clarissa's sake.
And, if she was being honest with herself, for her own.
It would be a hard transition if she didn’t make the money she needed, but she could do it. She’d work three jobs if she had to. Whatever it took to live a normal life without the risk of danger or violence. Then, maybe, some day she could fall asleep in Jake's arms the right way instead of like some sad, broken bird. She could wake up and not worry about what the next day might bring, not hesitate when she thought of how her actions would affect the people who needed her. They'd all be taken care of.
The same way Jake had taken care of her.
She couldn't say that she'd ever felt this way before, not even when she'd been running the cons with her father. Sure, he’d watched her back. And he’d vouch for her, if it came down to it.
But did she feel taken care of? Did she feel like nothing bad could happen so long as he was right there?
No. Nobody had ever done that for her.
Until now.
Jake shifted onto his back, and for a long moment she considered him. His strong jaw, the light stubble of the early morning dusting his cheeks, his rumpled, dark hair. A man like him could be with anyone. A man like this deserved the kind of woman who took care of him the same way he was bound to take care of her.
And maybe it could never last, but for once she wanted to know what it felt like to be that kind of girl.
Dependable. Safe.
She gently slipped from the bed, grabbing a robe from the hook on the back of the closet. Then, she crept down the hall and into the kitchen.
Through the windows along the back wall, she could see the sun beginning to rise, and in the golden light of the morning she searched the fridge for any sign of a decent meal. Like a man, though, his fridge was full of half-eaten leftovers and take out containers. Moving them aside, though, she found a carton of eggs and a half-used package of bacon.
Score.
She pulled them from the shelf, then grabbed a package of plastic-wrapped cheese before scouring the room for bread and setting to work.
With one hand, she turned on the gas to heat her skillet while she assembled all the ingredients she needed for the best damned breakfast sandwich Jake had ever had.
She’d just finished brewing a pot of coffee when a creak down the hall let her know that he'd gotten up. A few seconds later, he was standing in the doorway clad in nothing but a pair of dark blue boxers that clung to his powerful thighs in a way that made her mouth water for anything but breakfast.
"Good morning," he said on a yawn, then scrubbed at his eye with one hand. "Glad to see you made yourself at home."
"I hope I didn't wake you."
"No, no, I always get up at the crack of dawn." He offered her a teasing smile and she rolled her eyes.
"I’m not the best sleeper,” she acknowledged with a grin, resisting the urge to roll up on her tiptoes and kiss his sleepy mouth. “All will be forgiven once you taste my famous breakfast sandwich, promise."
"What's so famous about it?"
"I don't know yet, I've never made it before. I’m not exactly a great cook."
"So you’re offering me actual eggs this time? I can’t wait." Jake crossed the room behind her and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. "Truth be told, you didn't wake me. My brother did."
"Oh yeah?"
"I texted him last night about Dominic."
A sense of dread snaked through her and she turned to face him. "Jake-"
The Family Jewels Page 12
