by Elise Noble
“Because you’re a fan of justice?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ll book this note into evidence, and then I gotta pick Kiki up from the sitter.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Being a single dad was tough, and Colt still hadn’t gotten over the death of his wife. Probably never would. Hannah had been his high-school sweetheart, the woman he’d declared at fifteen years old he was going to marry. Me and Aaron thought he was kidding, but no, we’d ended up as groomsmen with matching suits and buttonholes. Kiki had come along soon after I left town, the apple of her father’s eye. And now, a constant reminder of what Colt had lost. I’d seen pictures of her, and at seven years old, Kinsley Hannah Haines looked so much like her mom it was uncanny.
“You want me to talk to some of these people?”
“You’ve got no legal standing.”
“No, but I know how to ask questions, and I recognise a bunch of the names.”
The women, mostly.
“Oh yeah? How many of their hearts did you break?”
“Hey, I never made them any promises.”
I’d always been completely up front about my lack of commitment. And when those girls got me for a night, they got all of me—my dick, my tongue, my hands, my attention. Hell, I even brought them breakfast in the morning. Nine times out of ten, we parted on good terms, and I could leave the remaining ten percent for Colt.
“Officially, I can’t condone that, but unofficially, if you think you can obtain the information we need without getting kicked in the nuts, then I’m not gonna say no to the assistance.”
“I’ll start making calls tomorrow.” Tonight, I had other things on my mind. “What’s the best restaurant around here that delivers?”
“You want to treat Brooke?”
“Nah, man, I’m gonna sit at home and eat lobster while she watches.”
“Relax, buddy. No need to act all defensive. It’s obvious you like her.”
Fuck. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”
Colt gave me a “do you think I’m stupid?” look. Double fuck.
“Just watch your step. Aaron’s been taking boxing lessons over in Coos Bay.”
“I’m not planning to be his new brother-in-law.”
“Didn’t think you would be, but if you hurt her again, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Again?”
“How do you think she felt the first time you left? And whose place do you think she was crying at? Hannah was buying Kleenex in bulk for months.”
Ah, hell. I knew I’d hurt Brooke, but we were both young. I figured she’d move on to better things rather than wasting her thoughts on yours truly. Had she been hung up on me the way I’d been hung up on her? Colt was right—I did have to tread carefully.
“You may be like a brother to me, but Brooke’s like a sister,” Colt carried on. “And Hannah’s not here to pick up the pieces this time. Neither is Brooke’s grandma. Right now, Addy and Paulo are a big part of Brook’s support network, and if you screw her over, I wouldn’t want to be in your position when they take their revenge. You want glitter in your eyes? Your balls set on fire?”
“Message understood,” I ground out through gritted teeth. “I’m not planning to hurt her, but I’m also not gonna stand back and let this motherfucker and his sick notes ruin her life. If the sheriff’s office can’t do its job, then somebody has to keep her safe.”
Colt’s expression darkened. “Yeah, I get the message too. I’ll do everything I can, but that asshole’s careful, and I bet there are no fingerprints or DNA on this.” He waved the note, now safely tucked into an evidence bag. “The Mexican place in Coos Bay delivers, and Brooke likes everything on the menu. Go take care of her.”
I intended to, in every way possible.
Only time would tell if I’d live to regret it.
Or whether I’d dig myself into an early grave.
21
Brooke
“Pillows? You bought more pillows?” I asked Luca.
Eight more pillows, to be precise, four in cream satin cases, four in navy blue, all stacked neatly onto my new bed. Ed had delivered it yesterday evening along with the couch and chairs, which had at least given my lips a break from Luca’s kisses. Thanks to his five o’clock shadow, my skin felt decidedly chafed today. And it wasn’t just pillows that had magically appeared—yesterday, the windows had been bare in the bedroom, but now he’d hung drapes and laid a matching rug on the concrete floor.
“The pillows were your idea.”
“My id— Oh.” My traitorous cheeks burned, and I momentarily forgot how annoyed I was at Luca. “You really think that’s necessary?”
Was Luca that good in bed? I very much suspected the answer might be yes, something that both thrilled me and made me extremely nervous.
“Yeah, it’s definitely necessary.” That unapologetic smirk made me clench my thighs together. “But before we test out the bed, we need to eat.” He took a step closer, and I was proud I didn’t back away. Sometimes Luca could be…overwhelming. “Brooke, are you okay? After what happened earlier, I mean.”
“You mean when you sent Darla and me back inside? When you left me out of a discussion about my own problems?”
“Technically, it was Colt who told you to go inside.”
“You didn’t argue with him.”
“Because I didn’t want you to get upset,” Luca muttered, his smirk gone.
“Newsflash: I was more upset by you thinking I couldn’t handle it. I’ve been handling it. On my own. For a year.”
“And I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. Sorry I pushed you away. Sorry I gave the impression I didn’t trust you. But most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t here and that you had to deal with this alone.”
And that was why I’d never been able to stay mad at Luca for long. Even when we were kids, if he’d done wrong—a regular occurrence—he held his hands up and admitted it. Took the punishment. Looking back, the inability to apologise was one of the biggest faults my only two serious boyfriends had shared. Dale had simply avoided me in the aftermath of arguments—the bigger the fight, the longer he disappeared for. Then he’d send flowers and show up a day or a week later as if nothing had happened. And Steve, he’d said the words, but he always twisted them to make things my fault. I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry you can’t see things from my perspective.
Luca, he spoke from the heart.
“I’m sorry I flew off the handle.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. If I don’t know how you’re feeling, I can’t fix it. This situation isn’t one I’ve had much experience with.”
“What, spending more than a single night in a woman’s company?”
I hated myself the moment the sentence left my mouth. Luca didn’t deserve that dig. He’d never hidden who he was. Yet he flinched, and I realised that despite his size and his strength, despite his muscles and his “don’t fuck with me” attitude, I had the power to hurt him. A decade had worn away the swagger he’d once used as armour, let his emotions run closer to the surface. He stepped back. Opened up the distance between us again.
“No, having to watch someone I care deeply about being tormented by a stranger while I’m powerless to stop it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want to fight with you, Brooke.”
“I don’t want to fight either.” Especially when we had so little time together. “Truce?”
“Truce.”
“But I still want to know what you discussed with Colt. What did the note say?”
“It said ‘we should be together.’” Luca wrapped his arms around me as I shuddered. “But I won’t let him near you. I promise. Colt’s doing what he can, and I’m going to give him a hand by talking to some of the people on Addy’s list tomorrow. But tonight, we’re going to forget about all that.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Try. Don’t give this motherfucker your headspace. That’s what he wants. If he can’t have you in person, he
wants you thinking about him, obsessing over him. He feeds off your fear.”
Like the monster that lives in the closet. When I was little, Aaron used to check in there every night before I went to sleep, and under my bed too. He’d grumbled, but he’d always done it.
“Y-y-you think he’s watching me?”
“I want to say no, but I’m not gonna lie to you. I think there’s a chance.”
Little puzzle pieces clicked into place. “That’s why you bought the drapes, isn’t it?”
And they weren’t only in the bedroom. Every window in the living area was covered too. Filmy floor-length drapes in shades of grey with thick white blinds behind them for extra protection. He must have roped in Brady and Deck to help. There was no way one man could have done all that on his own in a day.
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
“The number of windows was making me twitchy.”
“Why?”
“Because…” His sigh told me that every word I uttered was making this conversation harder. “Because a friend of mine got shot by a sniper. One minute, we were talking to a guy about his missing son, and the next, Nathan was bleeding out in my arms.”
“He died?”
“At least it was fast.”
“I’m so sorry.” Words were inadequate. Instinct took over and I hugged Luca tighter, as if I could squeeze out some of his pain. Take it from him. Divide it equally. “You were close?”
“We went through Ranger School together. Shared a CHU.”
“A choo? I don’t understand.”
“A containerised housing unit. We were roommates. And yeah, his death hit me hard. Not only because I’d lost a buddy, but because I’d gotten a stark reminder of my own mortality. If I’d been standing four inches to the left, I’d have been in a casket too.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s true. But anyway, I got out. Figured if I’m gonna die doing dangerous shit, I might as well do it on my own terms.”
I glanced around the cavernous space, at the elegant drapes I’d thought were so beautiful just a few minutes ago. Now I saw them as shields.
“You don’t seriously think…?”
“That there’s a sniper in Baldwin’s Shore?” Luca barked out a laugh. “Nah, sweetheart. But like I said, I’m twitchy. Humour me, okay?” He kissed my hair, such a small thing but also huge. “We should find plates. Dinner’ll be here soon.”
Mexican. He’d ordered Mexican. An entire freaking menu’s worth of Mexican and paid extra for delivery. Nachos and tacos and burritos and quesadillas plus a token salad. We still didn’t have a dining table, so we dragged Deck’s workbench over as a substitute. Vega flumped down beside it, ready to catch any morsels we dropped.
“I take you to all the best places,” Luca kidded. His voice had lost its earlier sombreness, and I decided to steer clear of any army- or stalker-related conversation for the rest of the evening.
“The company’s more important than the ambience. Although…” I spotted Aaron’s Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen counter. “I could put some music on.”
While Luca laid out the food, I set a “Latin love songs” playlist to stream. Yes, I knew it wasn’t a date, but was there any harm in wanting it to feel like one? Nine days… I didn’t want to waste any of them. Would anything happen tonight? Luca seemed to be in no hurry to strip me naked, although I wouldn’t have complained if he did.
I’d have been hellishly nervous, but I wouldn’t have complained.
“Beer? Wine? Tequila?” He wrinkled his nose. “Water?”
Tonight? I needed all the courage I could get.
“Tequila.”
It didn’t matter if I got drunk. Didn’t matter if I let my guard down. With Luca, I was safe. And it seemed he was off duty for once because he filled two shot glasses and held one out to me.
“Sláinte.”
“Don’t you mean salud? You spent too much time in the Cave.”
“Nobody drinks like the Irish. Except maybe the Russians. Before I went to Eritrea, I spent a couple of months in Sudan, and there were a bunch of Russians on the team. I always thought I could hold my liquor, but those motherfuckers drank me under the table. Brewed their own vodka too.”
“What did you do in Sudan?”
“Even if I could tell you, you wouldn’t want to know.”
The burn of the tequila in my throat eclipsed the chills that ran through me. Luca was right; I probably didn’t want to know. Especially not tonight. Not when we were on our first—and possibly last—non-date.
“Then let’s eat.”
Sharing Mexican food with any other man would have left me taking dainty little bites and trying not to make a mess. But this was Luca. I’d eaten dinner with him a hundred times before, even if we were usually with my brother or his sister or a group of other people, so I dug in. Sauce squished out. But he’d brought napkins, so that was okay.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
“Just thinking about the time I went on a date and the guy took me to La Cantina and ate tacos with a knife and fork. Which meant I had to eat tacos with a knife and fork, and that was super awkward.”
“Soft-shell tacos?”
“Crisp tacos.”
“The man was a monster.”
“Exactly. Like, who does that? They broke, and the filling went everywhere, and I was trying to scoop pieces into my mouth and plan my escape at the same time.”
“I had the opposite problem once—I took a girl for rice and curry in New York, and she ate it with her fingers. Said she’d backpacked around Sri Lanka when she was younger, and that was the local custom, so she stuck with it when she came home because it felt more authentic.”
“Tell me she washed her hands first?”
“Her immune system must’ve run on rocket fuel. You want more tequila?”
“Sure, why not?”
What was the worst that could happen? I’d get drunk and fall asleep on the couch?
No, as it turned out. I’d get drunk, drop cookie-dough ice cream down my cleavage, then fall over my own feet when I tried to get up and rectify the problem. Oh, and land in Luca’s lap. With my face smushed into…you get the picture.
“Ah, sh…sugar.”
My arms had stopped working. Why had my arms stopped working?
“Babe, if you were hungry for cock rather than ice cream, you only had to say so.”
“I-I… Just get it off! Out! Whatever! It’s so freaking cold!”
I grabbed the hem of my sweater and pulled, but it got stuck over my head and then I couldn’t see either. My arms flailed as I stumbled back, and I winced, already preparing myself for a hard landing.
Which never came.
“I got ya, sweetheart.”
Luca’s words vibrated an inch from my ear, his arms tight around my waist as he dipped me backward like a ballroom dancer at the end of a particularly dirty tango. Except I was a terrible dancer. And as if to rub that little factoid in, the Macarena started playing in the background.
Freaking heck. Please, somebody kill me now.
But not my stalker.
I didn’t want to give him the pleasure.
“I’m such a mess,” I mumbled through an alcoholic haze and a layer of merino wool.
Slowly, deliberately, Luca licked the ice cream from between my boobs, and I just about melted.
“Not anymore.”
I kind of expected him to do the gentlemanly thing and help me out of my sweater so I could see again, but who was I kidding? This was Luca. Half a second later, my bra popped open—he’d clearly had practice at that move—and then his tongue was everywhere. I didn’t have time to get nervous. The tip circled my nipples, trailed up my neck, snaked across one shoulder, leaving a cool trail and goosebumps in its wake. With my arms trapped and my eyes blindfolded, every other sensation was heightened, and the rasp of Luca’s breathing told me he was as affected by this as I was. Good thing he was
holding me because my knees would have buckled otherwise.
“I want to see you,” I whispered.
My feet left the floor as he lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct. Holy hell, he was hard. And huge. And mine, for tonight at least.
My ass met the leather couch, and he gently tugged the sweater free, kneeling in front of me so our eyes were level.
“I’ve gotta change this fuckin’ music,” he said, and I burst out laughing.
The doubt, the dread, all the fears I’d lain awake turning over in my mind for the last year, he held them at bay with a little fun and a lot of filth. I stared unashamedly at his ass as he bent to snatch my phone off the workbench and picked out a more appropriate track. And for “more appropriate,” read “dirtier.” I hadn’t heard it before, but a breathy woman was singing about sapphires and moonlight and tequila sunrises.
Luca turned, a secret smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he strode toward me. Then he paused. Took a step back. Picked up the tub of melting ice cream and a spoon. Was he going to feed me ice cream? I’d seen that in the movies. Swooned over it.
“Lie back, sweetheart.”
I did as instructed. Closed my eyes and opened my mouth, waiting. Then gasped as the ice cream hit my chest.
“What the heck…?”
My eyes flew open to see the gleam in Luca’s.
“That was fun. Thought we’d do it again. Don’t worry; you’ll get your turn. Good things come to those who wait.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“So I’ve been told.” He grinned, quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve also been told I’m a massive dick. Care to verify?”
Best not to confess that I already knew that. When he was sixteen, he’d run the whole way down Main Street in a pair of Speedos for a bet, and I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off him, back or front. I’d positioned myself halfway so I’d get an excellent view of him coming and going. My photos had come out blurry, but Addy’s hands had been steadier than mine, and she’d been kind enough to send me a copy of the video. I must have watched it a hundred times.
