He was already scratching at his notepad. Hurried scribbles that made sense to him and no one else. It deepened the mystery where he was concerned. So quiet one moment. Holding on to his past and his hurt like honored battle wounds.
And then… the moment he’d opened up to her on the couch. Blayze Brockton might be muscled, toned, and ruggedly handsome on the outside, but in that precious time they’d shared, Sophia caught a glimpse into the beauty he carried in his soul. Something she’d dare say very few had come to see.
“There was money in that package,” Blayze mumbled. “Which makes me think this guy wants revenge over lost funds. Theft. Embezzlement. Something along those lines.” He glanced over at her. “Your father, as District Attorney, can he determine what the sentences are?”
Sophia shook her head. “No. But he does decide which cases go to trial. He has the power to dismiss a case or see that it’s pursued.”
He made a few more marks on his page, drawing a solid line from the center of the page to the top left corner. He made a circle there, then drew a dollar bill sign inside. “I’m going to have them narrow their search to cases related to money. Starting with every case he passed on to trial during his time as DA before your mother’s death. If nothing lines up with names at the motel around that time, we’ll go further back.”
She nodded, eyeing the darkened view beyond the window. They were getting on the freeway now, which caused that stubborn irritation to flare up once more. “So, we’re heading to your cabin, even though I’m against the idea?”
“No,” Blayze assured. “We’re going to drive until we can come to an agreement.”
Roman eyed her from the rearview. “Your father wants me to ring him in for a conference call,” he said.
“In a minute,” Blayze growled. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. There’s more defiance when parental figures are involved, and I’d like to eliminate that element for now and talk with her, just the two of us first.”
Sophia’s face scrunched up. “You think I’ll be more defiant if my father’s involved? You can’t just decide that.”
Blayze tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Some of us are more likely to fold under parental pressure. Others tend to dig in their heels, for lack of a better word. You’re the latter. And I didn’t just decide that. I can tell.”
Sophia felt her eyes widen in irritation. “Well, that’s rich.” She could hardly believe the nerve of him.
“For what it’s worth, I agree,” Roman piped from the front seat.
“You know, I can’t wait to turn the tables on you guys. Start spitting out a bunch of psychobabble that stuffs you into some… neatly labeled box.”
“Your father alerted the university about the threat,” Roman said. “The staff and security team will meet in about five hours to discuss the best course of action. But the representative he spoke with said they probably won’t tell you not to come.”
Sophia’s shoulders lifted a notch.
“They will, however,” Roman continued, “likely ask that you reconsider. They may suggest you explore replacement options. Not only for your safety but for that of the other attendees.”
Sophia’s shoulders drooped. “Now the press is going to get hold of it.”
Blayze nodded. “Yes. There’s no avoiding it. A bomb poses a very wide threat, and that can’t be taken lightly by anyone who catches wind of it. Especially when we consider the damage this guy’s proven to be capable of.”
Sophia’s shoulders tensed up so tight it hurt. The rigid clench of her jaw was an ache all its own, but she held firm, willing her bottom lip to stop trembling. “I hate this,” she spat, wanting to punch an angry fist through the glass. “I hate this so bad.” Her chin began to tremble. Every detail of this moment had her feeling like an angry tiger she’d seen once at the zoo. Roaring and raging, clawing at bark and leaves and air.
“Here.” Blayze ripped the page from his battered notebook and handed it over with the pen.
Sophia looked at it, distracted before glancing up at him.
“Put your thoughts on it. Take your anger out on it. Tear it into shreds. Whatever you’d like.”
She shook her head.
“I mean it,” he urged. “Try.”
“It won’t help.”
“What would you like to say to the guy right now? If he was standing right in front of you?”
Sophia glared down at the paper, imagining she could deliver a message right to his face. She snatched the pen from him first, then the notebook. “You don’t care if I ruin this?”
“Plenty more where that came from,” was all he said.
With a hard grip on the pen, Sophia dug letters into the top page. Big angry ones, the tip of the pen cutting into the paper below it.
I can’t stand you.
I hate the things you have done, she wrote next.
I hate that you took my mom from me. I hate that I live in fear because of you. I hate that my father has to worry about losing me too.
Sophia shook her head, mad that she was censoring herself, even in the simple exercise. She tipped her head back, forced out an angry breath, and told herself to let go of whatever stopped her from writing what she wanted to write. She tore off the top three pages, saw indents of her declarations etched into that page as well. And there, she made new ones.
I hate you.
I hate you for killing my mother.
I hate you for making my father cry.
For making him lonely. Hurt. Broken.
Because of you she’ll never see me get married. She’ll never hold a grandchild. She won’t grow old with my father. And I hate you for that!
With each declaration, the smothering impotence waned. Determination took its place. She wouldn’t cower if they came face-to-face. Stand there helplessly while he marched in with explosives ready to do his worst. She would fight. Do what it took to preserve her own life.
You have robbed me. But you WON’T take my life.
I’d rather kill you myself than let you take it.
It felt like enough energy had surged through her to power the White House for a year. With a shaky hand, she dropped the pen onto the tattered page, scribbles, rips, and messy declarations. She could feel the heat of Blayze’s gaze on her, but she didn’t mind sharing the intimate moment with him. He was safe, and she knew that.
She glanced up at him through her lashes and let out a jagged breath. “You were right,” she said, tension draining from her so fast she went weak. “That felt good.”
He grinned, unfastened his belt, and scooted close enough to toss his arms around her. “You did good,” he murmured into her hair.
A small piece of Sophia was vaguely aware that Roman was keying in on their interaction. Ready to report back to her father. She didn’t mind. She knew Papa well enough. He would’ve never suggested Blayze take her for an evening out if he didn’t already have his stamp of approval. Something he didn’t hand out freely.
They stayed that way for a long while, flashes of light coming few and far between as they stayed their course, whatever that was. Which reminded her of what Blayze had said: they’d drive around until she agreed on a place.
The last thing she wanted to do was put others in harm’s way; may as well consider her replacements. Michelle Marshall sat at the top of that list. She’d do an excellent job. Proudly. Boldly. And for the sake of her mother and the threat over Sophia’s head, the woman would deliver with all the gusto she could muster.
With the decision made, Sophia pulled away from the warmth of Blayze’s strong arms and broad chest. “I’ll allow for a replacement,” she said. “Michelle Marshall. I’ll notify my father about it now. Then…” she added, searching his handsome face. “Then, we can go to your cabin.”
Chapter 11
It wouldn’t be much longer now, Blayze told himself as he looked out the window of the Land Rover. The night was black at either side of the car. Streetlights in this neck of the woods
were scarce. The view out the front was different. In the headlights glow, a combination of massive trunks, gnarled branches, and colorful leaves said they were very close. Miles back, they passed Los Padres National Forest. A few miles more and he’d have Roman turn off a barely detectable break in the trees. From there, they’d wind through a sequence of even less visible turnoffs, each nearly lost in the thick of the overgrown, untamed redwoods.
Along the way, Sophia had scooted over to the middle seat, buckled up there, and nuzzled into him. Moments later she’d linked her fingers through his, pulled his arm around her, and drifted off to sleep. Breaths slow and steady, she’d melted deeper and deeper with each passing mile.
He knew enough about relationships to call this what it was—sudden, rushed, and close to rootless. After all, it took time for the surrounding redwoods to establish the deep, reaching support system that would keep them erect in a windstorm. The truth was, it was foolish for him to get romantically involved; he was hired to protect her, not court her. Which meant he needed to slam on the brakes and quick.
Though Sophia was already snug against his chest, Blayze wanted to pull her in closer as a sharp pain tore into him. He clenched his eyes shut and gulped. Time to stop what he’d started. Who cared if their romantic connection felt natural and right on the surface? That didn’t mean it was. It would mess with his judgment, all those emotions clouding up his brain when it was time to think and act fast.
The pain went deeper, and this time he did pull her in closer, just a bit, breathing in her alluring scent as he thought of yet another reason they should keep things business-like between them: The vulnerability factor—he’d be taking advantage of Sophia if he pursued her now.
As much as it hurt, Blayze couldn’t give Sophia any encouragement. If they made it past this… no, not if. When they made it through this, if Sophia was interested in giving him the time of day, he’d be there. Yet, as she sighed, her warm breath coating his wrist, Blayze feared she wouldn’t be interested anymore.
He glanced up to see a familiar bend in the road. Thank heavens he’d snapped out of his stupor before they’d passed it. “You’ll want to slow down up here,” he said. “See that break in the trees to your right?”
Roman shook his head. “Nope.”
Blayze chuckled. “I know. But we’re almost there, so you better get ready.”
Roman pressed heavy on the breaks, slowing the car just in time.
“Here,” Blayze instructed. “Start turning and the headlights should hit it.”
He obeyed, but didn’t get too far. Branches stretched across the opening, further hiding the road. Roman pulled the SUV out of gear and put on the break. “Don’t want your paintjob getting ruined,” he mumbled while pushing open the door.
“Here, I’ll help,” he offered, but Roman shook his head.
“No. You’ve got your arms full.”
An embarrassed dose of heat flared up in his cheeks. Blayze wanted to take Roman aside, explain how he’d let things get out of hand. Instead, Blayze inwardly vowed to put things right. The sooner the better.
He shook his head, checking the road behind them while Roman hoisted a fallen branch up and out of the way. It’d been close to an hour since they’d seen another set of headlights—an oncoming minivan. The interior lights were on, illuminating a young mother trying to appease what he could only assume was a fussy baby.
They definitely hadn’t been followed—a thought that lent Blayze a sigh of relief.
Roman climbed back in and steered them through the narrow opening. Sophia stirred upon hearing the door close. Blayze froze, heart hammering as she tipped her head to peer through the front window.
“Where are we, in a forest?”
Breathe, Blayze. Breathe. She might not end up hating you. Heck, she may not want to take things anywhere either.
“We’re in the Redwoods,” Roman answered for him.
“Yeah,” Blayze added. “But don’t worry, this place has plumbing.”
“Oh, really?” Roman blurted. “I didn’t know outhouses count as plumbing.”
Sophia turned wide, questioning eyes on Blayze. “An outhouse?”
Blayze did the subtle shake of his head. Perhaps he’d win points with Sophia for not making her sweat it a moment longer.
“There’s a fork in the road up here,” Roman said. “Left, or right?”
“Ah,” Blayze said. “Right, but we’ll need a passcode to get through.” He unbuckled his belt and climbed out of the car, grateful to have a bit of fresh air. No soft touches and tempting scents. Sutton had done a whole lot of upgrades to the place back in March. Upgrades Blayze would have never dreamed of installing in a vacation home. The fall of fortune had come after a misfortune for Sutton; the guy’s mansion had burned to the ground. ‘Course, he’d had a new one built in a matter of months. But when a need arose before the new place was set, Blayze had offered his family cabin. The security upgrades came with the position.
A swinging, iron gate blocked both roadways, though the other led to an abandoned campground. A place that hadn’t been up and running since Blayze was a kid.
The digital padlock accepted no less than eight digits. Blayze tapped them in, one after the next, listening for the anticipated clank. It came right on cue, and Blayze pushed the heavy gate out of the way. The words, now what? ran through his mind. He’d gotten Sophia to agree to cancel tomorrow’s appearances and, thank heavens, she’d left the weekend clear. But he was very aware of the upcoming appearance she would not want to miss. Looming at the tail end of the following week. But he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to take things one day at a time.
At the cabin, Roman pulled into the double garage, guarded by key code as well, and closed the thing before anyone got out.
“Sheesh,” Sophia said. “I thought we were going to end up in some tent or something. This place is gorgeous. I mean,” she amended, “on the outside anyway.”
Blayze grinned. “Yeah, it’s not bad.” He slapped Roman on the shoulder. “Mind if I check the place out real quick? I had the cameras turned on remotely on our way over, but I’d like to make sure it’s all clear.”
The action of holding his gun, keeping his back to the walls, and being prepared to shoot put him right back on duty.
Solid wood logs made up the walls of the massive structure, accented by rustic tiled floors, copper accents, and several textured rugs throughout the cabin. Jazmin’s touch, said to—in her words—warm the place up.
This is what Mom decided to do with her alimony. A gift for the kids and the grandkids too. If only she’d have lived longer to enjoy it with them.
He forced his mind back to the task. He’d been ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure the cabin was clear before going through. Now it was at an even one-hundred percent. He knew each nook and cranny of the place after all. From the fruit cellar under the large, wraparound porch, to the cute little window seat Jazmin’s kids liked curling up in.
By the time Blayze made it back to the garage, Roman stood at the entry, arms filled with bags. “How many cameras do you have set up at this place?” he asked, eyeing a glowing dot in the corner of the garage.
Blayze turned sideways as he shuffled through the hallway, bags in each arm. “I lost track after a dozen,” he joked. “About half are in plain sight. The rest are hidden throughout the property.”
“Where does the surveillance go?” Sophia eyed the massive beams overhead, her eyes darting between the vaulted ceiling and the stairs leading to the loft.
“Surveillance is streamed onto a cloud, meaning I can have one of my guys keep an eye on it for us from a remote location. But I’ll be monitoring it as well from an iPad.
Roman blew out a whistle. “Nice, man, nice. Tiff and I should get a place like this one day. I always wanted a log cabin. Got a lake nearby?”
Blayze grinned. “A pond. But it has some decent fish. All contained on this property, so I’d say it’s safe to go out there if you’d
like.”
“Well, tell me where I should park my bags for the night,” Roman said. “It’s past this old man’s bedtime.”
“I figure you could stay downstairs if you like it cooler. Or up in the loft if you chill easily.”
“Ooh,” Sophia blurted. “I chill easily. Maybe I should take the loft. If it’s okay with you, Roman.”
Roman and Blayze looked at one another before Blayze glanced over at Sophia. “I was thinking you and I should stay on the same floor. For safety reasons,” he added.
“Well, I like sleeping where it’s cool,” Roman said, “so if you don’t mind I think I’ll take my leave in the basement. Night, kids.”
“Night,” Blayze and Sophia said in unison. Her eyes looked tired, but that didn’t take from the beauty of her face. Such a strong woman, even in a situation like this. Stop it, Blayze. For crying out loud…
“How many beds are in the loft?” Sophia asked, pressing up on her toes as she scrutinized the log railing.
“Three,” he said. “Jazmin and her husband like to stay up there with the kids. There are two other rooms down here. A master with its own bath. And a spare bedroom across the hall.”
She nodded. “I like the idea of a master bath, but if you don’t mind, I’d feel more comfortable being in the same … space as you.”
Blayze tried to hide the surprise that threatened to show on his face. He forced his eyes to narrow, managing a nod in the process. “I’m going to be in trouble with your dad, you know?” he said under his breath.
Sophia laughed. “Not if you keep me safe, you won’t…” And with that, she strolled toward the winding stairwell, her rolling suitcase at her heels.
Chapter 12
“Blayze?” Sophia had only whispered it, a test to see if he’d woken up yet. She rolled onto her side, looked across the spacious loft to see his muscular profile in the morning sun. Though he lay flat on his back, he’d turned away from the bright, circular window behind him, leaving his face in the shadows.
The Honorable Warrior Page 8
