Damsel in Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 1)

by Olivia Jaymes

  “Thank you—that would be helpful.”

  Jason hated hearing that broken tone in Brinley’s voice. He’d rather have her feisty or even angry than this… She just seemed sad and beaten.

  West glanced up at Jason and then back at Brinley. “You can’t stay there with a door that won’t close or lock. Do you have some place you can stay for the night?”

  She blinked a few times and then nodded. “I can stay at a motel.” Her eyes widened when she apparently realized that would mean sleeping at the motor inn where Roger was murdered. “Or maybe a hotel on the edge of town. Out by the interstate.”

  “You can stay here,” Jason cut in. The poor woman was dead on her feet and traumatized. He wasn’t that big of an asshole to send her to some motel where she’d be terrified and sit up all night staring at the locked door. “I have a spare room. You can even have Huck in there if you like.”

  He thought she might argue but her eyes filled with tears instead. “I think I’d like that. I can’t–”

  She choked up and buried her face against Huck’s fur. She didn’t want to be alone and Jason didn’t blame her in the least. What she didn’t realize was that he’d been in a few dangerous situations before. He wasn’t a rookie cop on his first big case.

  “Let me walk West to his truck and then I’ll show you to your room, okay?” Jason knelt down in front of her so he could look into her eyes. Her lips were trembling and she looked like a woman on the edge. When everyone got the hell out of here he’d let her cry or scream. Whatever she needed.

  “I’ll have my deputy board up your door, Brinley.”

  She managed a watery smile. “Thank you, West. I’m glad you were here. I’m sorry if I was mean to you last night. I really am.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. Just let Jason take care of you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Outside the crowd was dispersing since there was nothing new or exciting to see and the deputy was pounding nails into a sheet of plywood over Brinley’s doorway.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow if we find anything.” West pulled open the driver side door of his truck. “Take care of her. She looks shattered. I’ve seen that before in burglary victims. They feel violated. She’s not going to feel safe for a long time.”

  “I’m sticking with her like glue from now until we find this guy. I’ll take her with me tomorrow. I’m going to talk to a friend of Gaines. Hopefully he’ll know something.”

  “That reminds me. What did his brother say?”

  Jason quickly reviewed what they’d learned, West taking notes and action items in his notebook.

  “I should have the autopsy report sometime tomorrow. I’ll call you since you’ll be on the road. Did you get any gut feelings talking to Stuart Gaines?”

  “Not really, although I guess you could say they have motive. Roger owed his brother money and was basically living above the garage sponging off of them with no end in sight. Seems pretty harsh to kill him though when they could have just tossed his stuff on the front lawn.”

  West shrugged and shoved the notebook in his pocket. “I’ve seen people killed over a hell of a lot less. A pack of smokes and a Red Bull got a guy stabbed not long ago. If you’re okay I’m going to head out. Keep in touch with me tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Jason agreed, sending off his brother with a wave of thanks. Twenty-four hours after Roger Gaines’s murder they had more questions than ever.

  It was long past time to get some answers.

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  Brinley shoved the covers down for the millionth time but instead of trying to turn over and go to sleep she swung her legs to the floor and climbed out of bed. She’d been tossing and turning for hours – first too cold, then too hot – and despite being near exhaustion it was clear she wasn’t going to sleep easily. If she’d been in her own home she would have popped an antihistamine which would have put her out like a light.

  But of course she wasn’t home. Her house had been invaded. Tarnished by some asshole who had kicked in her door. Had the burglar been looking for her just as Roger Gaines had been? Or was it simply all a not-so funny coincidence that she’d had someone break into her home the day after someone ended up dead with her address in his hand?

  Not to mention what her mother said about coincidences…

  Jason must agree with her mother because he’d tucked her up into his spare bedroom with Huck sleeping outside the door to the hallway. She was sure she was going to wake the dog up when she opened the door and stepped over him to head to the kitchen. Maybe some warm milk would help her sleep. Even if it didn’t, she couldn’t lie here all night staring at the ceiling and running ever more disturbing scenarios through her fatigued brain.

  Brinley cracked open the door just an inch but Huck immediately jumped and began a low, menacing growl deep in his throat. She patted his head and scratched behind his furry ears to calm him and he licked her hand in gratitude.

  “Let’s not wake up your human, okay?” she whispered, furtively looking right and left. Jason was as exhausted as she was and at least one of them should get some sleep.

  She tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen and peeked in the refrigerator. Grabbing a plastic jug of milk, she closed the door and quietly rummaged in the nearest cabinet for a saucepan.

  “Do you need some help?”

  Her heart stopped for a moment and she sucked in a strangled breath. Jason was standing right next to her, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows. She exhaled in relief, resting her forehead on the cool wood of the cabinet and her heart started beating again. Her legs seemed to give way and she clutched the counter for support.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” she hissed, her hand pressed against her chest. “My God, I thought you were an ax murderer or something.”

  Jason reached behind her and flipped a switch, the room flooding with light that made her squint and wince. “I’m sorry. I heard footsteps and came to investigate.”

  She blinked a few times to get accustomed to the light. “Is that how you confront an intruder? No weapon and in your jammies?”

  Jason made nightwear look very good indeed. His wide shoulders strained against the soft cotton of his t-shirt that was paired with a pair of black boxer shorts that did nothing to hide the kind of muscular thighs that didn’t come from sitting behind a desk.

  Suddenly the kitchen seemed way too warm and sweat was dampening the back of her neck. Lifting her hair to try and get a cool breeze, she realized she wasn’t wearing all that much clothing either. Dressed in one of Jason’s shirts that came down almost to her knees, she had nothing on underneath except a brief strip of panties. She tugged on the hem and tried to pull it lower, feeling way too exposed.

  “If you were an intruder Huck would be barking his head off with your leg dangling from his teeth. I figured it was you wandering the house.”

  Brinley sagged against the counter. “I was trying not to wake you.”

  “I was already awake. I have trouble sleeping a lot of nights.” He picked up the jug of milk. “Were you thinking about some warm milk? How about some hot chocolate? It’s not really cold enough but I can turn down the thermostat if you like.”

  “Hot chocolate sounds really good. Thank you.” She slid onto one of the barstools around the kitchen island. “I know why I’m awake. What’s your excuse?”

  “It’s kind of a long story.” He poured the milk into a pan and added sugar and cocoa. “I’ve got some of those over the counter sleeping pills if you want to take one. It might help.”

  Jason reached into a high cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled down a bottle. “I tried them once but they made me groggy the next day.”

  “I’m desperate.” She checked the label with a knowing nod. “Just as I thought. They’re basically Benadryl. I will take one. It can take care of my allergies and sleeplessness all at the same time.”

  “I took two. Maybe that was my problem. Do yo
u want a glass of water?”

  “I’ll take it with my hot chocolate. Now you said something about a long story. Well, I’ve got nothing but time before this pill kicks in. Is it a secret? Will you have to kill me if I find out?”

  *

  Jason’s story wasn’t a secret.

  It wasn’t all that pleasant either.

  Mostly he went about his days trying not to think about it. The therapist he’d been seeing talked about filling his days with good and pleasant experiences. She’d even suggested that he work on his personal relationships.

  So he’d adopted Huck.

  It wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind but at the time it was the closest he could come to reaching out to other human beings. It was easier now. He’d strengthened his friendships, especially with Jared and Logan, not to mention the bonds with his own family. But still on many nights sleep eluded him.

  When it was dark and he was alone…that’s when the memories came rushing back.

  He poured the hot chocolate into two mugs, his hands shaking slightly but not enough that she would notice. He handed one to Brinley before taking a stool at the island. Reaching into the jar on the island, he plucked out a dog treat and tossed it to Huck who downed it in one big gulp.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. I was just making conversation.”

  Brinley had misunderstood his silence, mistaking it for a negative response to her query. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Hell, if she hung around Tremont long enough she’d learn the story. Part of it, anyway. The details that were fit for public consumption. He’d deliberately allowed the gossip in town about him so he didn’t have to personally talk about it.

  It didn’t hurt or scare him now. Mostly he kept it locked away in its own little box. Just like he had been in that hell hole of a prison.

  “It’s not a secret,” he began, picking his words carefully. “I’m kind of surprised no one else has told you. Gossip and all.”

  “I didn’t take part in gossip. When people start that I walk away. Nothing good ever comes from it.”

  Jason smiled at her naiveté. “If you control it, manipulate it, it’s not so bad. Since the gossip mill tells this story I don’t have to.”

  “Do they get it right?”

  Jason sipped at the hot chocolate to give himself time to answer. “No. But that’s okay. No one ever asks me about it.”

  “It was bad.”

  Brinley didn’t make it sound like a question.

  “As I mentioned before I used to work for the DEA. During one of my investigations I was taken hostage by a drug cartel and held for weeks. I finally escaped. That’s why I find it hard to sleep,” he stated calmly. Now she knew what pretty much everyone in Tremont knew.

  “That’s why you retired.”

  “One of the reasons. By the time I was cleared to go back in the field I found that I didn’t really have the drive anymore. It was like bailing the ocean with a teaspoon. I’d put someone out of business and behind bars and three more would sprout up in his place.”

  Jason didn’t even bother to mention the interdepartmental politics and backstabbing that he’d grown tired of. He didn’t have the patience for climbing the ladder that he’d had fresh out of the military.

  She set the cup down but didn’t break eye contact with him. “I would imagine being held hostage by a drug cartel is one of the less pleasant things a person could experience. I’ve heard stories about the things they do.”

  The unspoken question hung between them. Were the stories true?

  “It’s not something I’d like to repeat,” he finally said. It wasn’t as difficult to talk to her about it as he’d thought it would be. She didn’t judge or fake histrionics. She just sat quietly and listened. It’s too bad she hadn’t been around months ago. “They did torture me but not as bad as it could have been. I escaped before it got worse. And it would have. I learned a lot about people from my time being held prisoner.”

  Selena, the sister of one of his captors, had told him the cartel had much more diabolical things in store for Jason. He wasn’t giving them the information they wanted and they were determined to get it.

  One way or another.

  He’d been just as determined not to give it as he’d known that his only value was in the information he had. Once he’d revealed it he was a dead man.

  “What did you learn?”

  Her softly spoken question was a surprise. The few people that he’d talked to always asked about the torture he’d endured. They wanted the gritty details. At least they thought they did. He rarely satisfied their curiosity.

  “I learned that there is good in some people. There was a woman there – Selena – she was the sister of one of the cartel leaders. She was kind to me. She gave me food and water. Eventually she helped me escape by telling me when I wouldn’t be watched. I wouldn’t be breathing if it wasn’t for her.”

  Now he had no idea if she was dead or alive. She’s disappeared the same night he’d escaped and hadn’t been heard from since.

  “Anything else?”

  Somehow her hand had crossed the island and was now resting on his. He turned his so their fingers tangled together, her warmth seeping into his cold, lonely soul.

  “I also learned how depraved one human can be to another.”

  Images crowded his head but this time he didn’t ruthlessly push them away. Tightening his grip on her hand he allowed them to float in front of him one by one, hoping that familiarity would eventually take away the pain of remembering.

  “They hurt you terribly. I can see it in your expression.”

  He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Yes. They weren’t shy about using pain to coerce me to talk.”

  Her hazel eyes were bright with unshed tears. He shouldn’t have told her. She was too soft-hearted, too innocent of the things he’d seen even before he’d been captured. “I’m sorry that happened to you but I’m glad you escaped. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Steepling his fingers, he rested his elbows on the countertop. “Okay? I’m not sure what that means anymore. I can function day to day and do my job. I don’t jump and climb under furniture when I hear gunfire, so that’s a positive. I’m not looking over my shoulder paranoid about the world. So I guess you could say I’m okay. There are people walking around a lot more fucked up than I am. Maybe everyone is…in their own way.”

  “But you can’t sleep?”

  Jason rubbed his chin and tried to smile. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? I can’t sleep because it’s quiet and dark.” He hopped up from the stool to rinse out his cup, not wanting her to see how this subject could still mess with him. “They held me in an underground cell. There was no light except a strip of sun that would come in during the day. At night it was pitch black. And quiet. So fucking quiet. It made the waiting seem like it went on forever.”

  Those few weeks in that cell had felt like a lifetime. Even when he’d escaped he’d been afraid that it was all a dream. That reality was the prison and freedom was a fantasy that he’d created as he slowly went out of his mind. It was strange how quickly sanity could desert a man when death and pain were his only companions.

  Jason needed to shut the hell up but she’d opened the floodgates with her gentle questions and sympathetic tears. Those tears were trailing down her cheeks, her hand covering her mouth in horror. If he had any fucking sense he’d stop talking and send her to bed.

  But he wasn’t all that smart. Not about this.

  “It got to where I could tell who was coming by the sound of their shoes on the dirt and stones. It was a good thing to know. If it was one of the men coming to take me for interrogation I could prepare myself mentally. Or maybe it was just someone who would walk by my cell to another poor bastard. While I was there I heard them take away three people that never came back.”

  He’d been waiting for that day. Knowing it would come. The only question was when and how they would finally kill him a
nd put him out of his misery. The electrical shocks. The beatings. Funny how the thing he most remembered was being thirsty. It seemed like he could never get enough water. It explained why he now had a case of bottled water in the refrigerator and another in the pantry. He kept extra bottles in the truck. He never wanted to be caught without it.

  “God, Jason.” The words seemed torn from Brinley’s throat. He was ashamed that he’d said anything. She hadn’t done anything to deserve to carry this shit around with her.

  He abandoned the cup in the sink and came around the kitchen island, pulling her into his arms, her body trembling with emotion. He was humbled to be with a woman who could feel that deeply for someone other than herself. “Hey, no crying, sweetheart. It’s over and done with. The past. I’m alive. That’s the only thing that’s important.”

  He brushed at her damp cheeks and she nodded, blinking away the tears. “I know you haven’t told me half of what happened to you.”

  And he never would. He’d already told her too much. “What happened isn’t important. I’ve learned to live in the present. It’s just some nights it’s tough, that’s all.”

  “That’s when you sit outside and read, isn’t it? I’ve seen you when I couldn’t sleep too,” she sniffled.

  “If I’d known you were awake I would have invited you over for a movie marathon.” Jason wanted to lighten the atmosphere that had grown between them. He didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. He sure as shit didn’t feel sorry for himself. It was his own damn fault he’d been captured.

  Jason finally got a smile in return, albeit a tad watery. “Now you know. I’d love to watch movies with you.”

  Jason looked down at the canine sleeping at his feet. “What do you say, Huck? Should we pop a movie in and see who falls asleep first? My guess it will be the dog.”