To this day, I couldn’t say the name of the awful family who’d fostered me before Michael. It was a time in my life I’d do anything to forget.
We were rescued by Mama appearing at our table to refill our cups. “Your breakfast is almost ready,” she stated before hobbling away again.
I blew away the steam from my fresh coffee and took a sip, mindful of the temperature. I closed my eyes and savored the flavor.
“Told ya.” Jude chuckled, taking a sip of his black brew. “A staple.”
I laughed. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, he already knew just by my expression. “I’ve never had coffee this good before.”
“Nor will you ever again. That hoity-toity shit you drink will never compare to this.”
I took another sip, savoring the flavor, silently agreeing with him.
As promised, Mama returned with our meal. My mouth dropped at the sight of the food sitting on the table. Pancakes, bacon, ham steak, sausage, eggs, grits, and biscuits smothered in gravy were scattered all around us. There was barely an empty space on the table. Jude didn’t wait, he simply dug into the mounds of food, but I had no clue where to start. There was no way I could finish all of this. Not even in two sittings.
“Eat,” he encouraged through a mouthful of grits.
I decided the bacon was the best place to start. I took a bite and moaned as the grease coated my tongue. It was magnificent.
“Oh, wow,” I purred.
“I figured you hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. Eat up.” I swallowed hard, my eyes jumping to Jude. He stopped eating, realizing I was staring at him. “What?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jude resumed his meal, smirking. “It means exactly what I said.”
“I don’t know what you’re playing at…”
Jude raised his hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “Don’t say something you’re bound to regret.”
I leaned forward, attempting to force Jude to look at me. “You don’t know me, so don’t assume you know what I’ll regret or not.”
“Anymore.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Jude swallowed the food in his mouth. “I don’t know you anymore. But I did know you, Lucy Diamond, and I don’t believe ten years has changed you all that much.” He shoved eggs in his mouth, and smirked. “Except for the fact that you killed a man.”
My throat dried up, and my heart began to race in my chest. Suddenly, the walls of the tiny establishment seemed to be closing in on me. It was easy for anyone to know about George’s death, but for Jude to bring it up, I felt as though someone had stripped me naked and left me in the snow to fend for myself.
“What do you want?” I demanded, tired of this game Jude was playing. It was like the old days all over again. He’d get me riled up, do something cute, and I would fall into his arms.
Well, contrary to his beliefs, I wasn’t that girl anymore. His wicked smile wouldn’t melt my heart like it once did.
Jude sliced into his ham and stabbed the meat with his fork. “All I want is to get to know you again.”
“Then what?”
He chewed slowly, silence hanging between us. “I don’t know. Become friends, maybe?”
I scooted back from the table, staring at him with indignance. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Jude Wallace. Tell me what you want.”
Jude jerked his head up. “I told you what I want, Luce. No games. Just the truth. I’ve missed you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows in the only empty spots on the table. “And I didn’t realize how much until tonight when I found you on the pier.”
Every alarm bell was chiming in my brain. This was Jude. I couldn’t trust him. Not only for what he’d done to me, but for what I would bet money on that he was involved with.
He’s an asset, Sarah’s voice rang inside my head. Play your part. Don’t let him get close. Just let him think he is.
My stomach churned and I’d suddenly lost my appetite. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”
“You can send her a text in front of me, if you want,” Jude stated, munching on a slice of bacon.
I looked at him, confused. “Huh?”
“Your partner. You’re going to text her to make up some reason for you to come back to work immediately. You can do that from right here. When we’re done eating, I’ll take you back. That won’t change the fact that I really do want to be your friend. And from the looks of things, you could use one.”
I adjusted myself in my chair, shoving the plate in front of me far enough away so I could rest my elbows on the table. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I have more than my share of friends.”
“Yeah. I saw your douchey friends on the pier tonight. Fun looking crowd.”
I opened my mouth to rebuttal, but Jude continued without skipping a beat. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here because I understand you. More than your partner. More than your Brit boy toy. More than anyone else in your life.” He swallowed his bite and rested his fork on the edge of his plate. He templed his fingers beneath his chin, those dark brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee cooling in my cup. “I’ve been in your shoes. You feel like you’re on a precipice and all it will take is one small movement for you to fall. And you think no one’s there to catch you. Not even the therapist you’re seeing can help.”
“How do you know─”
“You’re a cop, Luce. A cop who shot someone. Of course you’re seeing a therapist.”
I attempted a calming breath, but my body couldn’t relax. Confusion and maybe a bit of fear coursed through my veins. Everything he was saying was true, but it didn’t matter. I could never trust him. Not again. Not after he’d left me. And certainly not that I suspected he was part of a huge crime syndicate.
“Text her. It’ll make you feel better. And it won’t hurt my feelings. I get it. But it won’t stop me from trying to help you.”
“How do you know what I feel?” I asked, spearing a pile of eggs and shoving the food into my mouth. “Don’t tell me you’ve killed someone before.”
Jude sucked down the remainder of his coffee and waved to Mama for yet another refill. She scuttled over, filling his cup and topping off mine before moseying away.
“No, I’ve never taken a life before. But there are things in my past that I’m not proud of, and I fucking deal with them every night before I fall asleep.” He picked the top off his biscuit and drudged it through the cream gravy.
This was my in. Maybe I could use this to find out if he was connected to Sutcliffe.
“Like what?”
He tossed the biscuit in his mouth and chewed slowly. He was either stalling or savoring the flavor. Whatever the case, he was really crawling under my skin.
“The what doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that I know. You close your eyes at night, and you feel empty. Devoid of life. You suffer with nightmares, almost like you have PTSD.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. “I call it the darkness,” I admitted.
Jude nodded. “That’s a good name for it.”
“My therapist says I suffer slightly from PTSD, but he feels I’m capable of working.”
“Fucking shrinks,” Jude grumbled. “That explains what you were doing tonight.”
“Aside from hanging out with my friends?” I tried to play that comment off. It was bad enough he’d blown my cover with Ian, but he also knew about my operation? No one should’ve known what Sarah and I were doing at the boardwalk tonight except for us and the chief.
Jude scooted back from the table and rubbed his stomach. “I mean on the pier. You were trying to get away from the darkness in your head. And who could blame you with that douche-fucker you were chillin’ with tonight.”
The atmosphere between us shifted from intense to jovial. I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee. “Ian’s a nice guy.”
“Whatever you say. I’m sure you two will get married, pop out a kid or two, and have matching Lexuses.”
“I just met him, and you’ve already got my future planned. Geez!”
Jude shrugged, acting nonchalant, but I could tell this conversation rattled him a little.
“You’ve barely eaten anything. Finish your breakfast.”
I glanced down at the practically full plates before me. “This is a ton of food. You can’t expect me to eat all of this.”
His brow popped up and I noticed him wince with a slight twinge of pain. “I still say you need stitches.”
“Never going to happen. Now eat.”
“I’ll eat if you get stitches.”
Jude glared at me for a moment, measuring me up for size. He must’ve found my request acceptable because he nodded and said, “Deal.”
So I ate. I ate until I was so sick that I felt like I would puke.
And later, when he returned me to my vehicle, the sun already rising in the east, he informed me that he would keep his word. Oddly enough, I believed him. Before we parted ways, we exchanged numbers. Then, without so much as another thought, I went home and crashed. For the first time since George’s death, I slept unawaken by dreams. It could’ve been caused by pure exhaustion, but even the darkness didn’t visit me. Nothing but quiet, dreamless sleep met me. And I relished every moment of it.
“So, Ian, where exactly are you from, anyway? I mean, it’s kinda obvious that you’re from, how shall I say it?” I tapped my chin with the tip of my finger, biting back a chuckle. “Across the pond.”
I sat in the sand with my knees drawn to my chest, my head tilted in Ian’s direction, as sweat trickled down the back of my neck. It was sweet for Ian to set up this romantic picnic on the beach, but the warmth of the driftwood bonfire was almost more than I could bear. Ian sat beside me, leaned back, holding himself steady with his outstretched arms. The glow of the flames illuminated his face. His boyish, debonair smile tugged the corners of his lips. I was almost jealous that the thought of home could conjure such a smile.
“I’m from Surrey.”
I scratched the tip of my nose. “Don’t tell me. You were neighbors with Harry Potter.”
Ian lifted slightly, turned to his side, and balanced on his elbow. “The Dursleys and I go way back. They dined with us every Sunday. That Potter, though, is a bit of a prat.”
“Being the chosen one and all.” I burst into laughter, digging my toes in the sand. It felt cool against my heated skin.
“It went to his head.” Ian gave me a wink.
“And I bet you went to college with David Beckham.”
Ian’s eyes widened, as he scrubbed his hand over his face. “How old do you think I am?”
I pinched my chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know. Thirty?”
Ian bobbed his head from side to side. “Close. I’m twenty-eight.”
“Aren’t you going to ask how old I am?”
His eyes sparkled in the light of the fire. Playful but also serious. “Absolutely not. It would be improper to ask a lady her age. My mum would disown me if she ever found me out.”
I inclined my head slightly, giving Ian a wink. “Well, your mom’s not here. You didn’t ask. And I’m twenty-five.”
He situated to his back, resting his head on his crossed arms. “It suits you.”
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As it was meant to be.”
While Ian and I had exchanged numbers when we first met, I figured I would never hear from him again. Especially after his run in with Jude.
But when Ian called me the next morning, I was thrilled, even if he woke me from a dead sleep. He was sweet, kind, and a true gentleman in his mannerism, though I was shocked when he told me he wasn’t much of a texter and wanted to know if I’d meet him for dinner the following night. It was sweet, and I immediately accepted, which led me to sitting on the beach with this gorgeous man.
I couldn’t help but stare. His body was firm, one that had seen its fair share of gym days. His hair trimmed and styled, but touchable. This only made me want to run my fingers through his golden locks even more.
“I bet you played soccer in college.” I guessed.
“Back to David Beckham, are we? And while we’re on the subject, it’s called football, not soccer. Because, you know, we kick the ball with our feet.”
I feigned offense. “Well, excuse me,” I drawled. “Over here it’s called soccer. And no, we’re not back on Beckham, even though that man has it going on. I simply noticed you work out.”
His smile broadened. “Ah. Using your policing skills on me, I see.”
Until this moment, Ian hadn’t even mentioned my being a cop. Not ready to breech that conversation yet, I nudged him with my knuckles. “Quit evading the question.”
Ian turned his face to meet my gaze. Those baby blues were magnificent under the starlight. The moon played peek-a-boo in his irises, making them sparkle.
“I played rugby at university.”
“Cool. Where’d you go to college?”
“Oxford then Harvard. How about you?”
My eyes diverted back to the fire. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me. Where did you go to university?”
“I completed my undergrad at Georgetown and was accepted into pre-law at Notre Dame.”
“Impressive. What made you change to law enforcement?”
Yet another topic I wasn’t ready to talk about. It didn’t seem right to talk about my life as a child. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. I stared deep into the radiant embers as the fire licked at the driftwood. The flames danced with the soft breeze.
“It’s a long story,” I stated, hoping to express my finality on the subject.
Ian pushed up and scooted closer to me. Hesitant for a moment, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. His touch felt nice. Safe. I rested my head on his chest. “Maybe another time. Once we’ve gotten to know one other proper.”
I smiled as he gently combed my hair away from my face. That’s one of the many things I liked about him. He wasn’t pushy, unlike Jude.
I stiffened at the thought of Jude, but Ian didn’t seem to notice.
Damn Jude for creeping back into my life. And he kept blowing my phone up, asking me to go out again. I told him I had to work, but that didn’t seem to matter. He just showed up at the precinct again.
It didn’t help that I pulled his record and found that he’d been arrested several times for auto theft and convicted twice, spending three years behind bars. There were no current warrants out for his arrest, which was why he didn’t seem concerned about spending time at a police station.
It thrilled and pissed Sarah off at the same time. No matter how hard I tried, Jude would not share any information about himself. He had to know I pulled his record, but even in knowing that, he evaded my questions like a criminal pro.
Bastard.
Ian, on the other hand, was an open book. He never shied away from anything I asked. He seemed excited to share his life with me. It was a nice feeling.
My body relaxed as Ian traced small circles along my spine. He was soothing me, and I would wager he had no idea what he was doing.
“So, Ian,” I almost purred, breaking the silence. “Since you know what I do for a living, tell me, what is that you do?”
His fingers moved upward, tugging ever so slightly along the ends of my hair. I could almost fall asleep while he played with my hair.
“I’m an economist.”
“Is that why you’re in the States? To help us with our national deficit?”
Ian laughed, good and hard. His laugh was nice. “There’s no helping with that. The way I see it, you’re buggered.”
“Well, you could always offer to buy us back.”
“With Brexit, it might be possible, but would be a complete waste of money. There’s no investment value in taking the States back.”
He rubbed his fingers along his clean-shaven ja
w. The boyish mischievousness in his eyes made me giggle. “You’re probably right there.”
“I have a confession to make.”
I lifted my head from his chest just enough to meet his eyes. “And that is?”
“I Googled you.”
My nose wrinkled and my brow furrowed, but I couldn’t be angry, because it was obvious that he was already beating himself up over it.
“Find anything juicy?” I knew what he’d found. After the media frenzy around me, I’d done the same thing. Google is not an officer’s friend, no matter how good of a cop they are.
“Is it true that you shot a man?”
“Yes.”
“And you killed him.”
“Not before he killed my partner.”
Ian cupped my face, wiping away a tear I hadn’t even realized had formed at the corner of my eye.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure that must’ve been difficult for you.”
His thumb traced along my cheekbone. “It was,” I admitted. “Still is.”
The sound of the waves hitting the shore, mingling with the crackle of the fire filled the night air. Ian said nothing, and I appreciated his reverence. He was allowing me to say as much or as little as I wanted or needed to say.
The mood between us shifted, encompassing me. His steady, blue eyes weighed me so carefully that I could feel current trailing down my skin.
“May I kiss you?” Ian asked, his voice low and decadently smooth.
I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. No one, at least not since the third grade, had ever asked for my permission to kiss me before. Not even Jude had asked for my permission the first time he kissed me. It was probably one of the sweetest, most endearing gestures I’d ever experienced.
“I wish you would.” I motioned him forward with a coquettish wiggle of my index finger.
The power in his expression made my stomach dip and my heart race. The weight of my heartache evaporated with that one look. He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. There was no force, no wild animalistic passion. It was more like peace flooded my body as his soft mouth connected to mine.
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