by Katie Ruggle
“Never mind, then. We can just have cereal.”
“Sorry. I don’t have any.”
“Bread for toast?”
“Nope.”
She blinked at him. “Pop Tarts?” When he just winced and gave her his best apologetic, I-know-I-suck-but-don’t-you-love-me-anyway smile, she sighed. “How do you not starve?”
“The viner. And Otto brings me eggs.”
“The viner it is, then.” Standing, she stretched, showing off all her naked glory, and he could only stare. His brain shut off completely. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d just forgotten his own name. Grace sauntered over to where his T-shirt had landed when he’d finally worked his cast free. She pulled his shirt over her head, and only then could Hugh think again. Blowing out a hard breath, he made his way to the bathroom. Apparently, Grace could short out his brain anytime she wished. If that meant he’d get to see her naked on a regular basis, however, he was okay with that. He’d give up just about anything—including the ability to think—if it meant keeping Grace. In just a few weeks, she’d become the most important part of his life.
* * *
It was one thing to be confident and sassy when Hugh was staring at her with hungry eyes, but her confidence faded a little as she lay in his bed, alone. The silence of the room made her thoughts too loud. After everything they’d been through, her worries seemed silly, but she couldn’t shut them off. Would things be different between them now? Would they be stiff and awkward with each other? With a groan, she flopped onto her back and covered her eyes. Shut it, brain.
Hugh walked in, and she quickly yanked her hands from her face and pretended that she hadn’t been freaking out. “Hey.”
“Well, hello there,” he said in such an over-the-top smarmy voice that she immediately relaxed.
Crawling into bed, he scooted over until he was right next to her. After wiggling his arm under her head, he draped his casted arm over her waist. “That okay?” he asked.
“Sure.” The fiberglass cast was lightweight and smooth, so it didn’t bother her. “Why am I not shocked that you’re a snuggle bunny?”
“Why would you say that?” he asked, pulling her closer and tucking his face into her neck.
She chuckled softly and reached up to give his head a pat. “Good night, Hugh.”
“’Night, Gracie.”
As she was dozing off, Hugh asked quietly, “You worried about tomorrow?”
Grace started slightly. With everything that had just happened between her and Hugh, she’d actually forgotten about the meeting with Noah. “Not until you said that.” She struggled to keep a teasing tone. “But thanks for reminding me.”
“It’ll be fine.” He sounded like he was reassuring himself, rather than Grace.
“I know.” Even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“It’ll go well.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Know how I know?”
“How?”
“Because you’ll be amazing. Know how I know?”
Her smile grew more genuine. “How?”
He kissed her neck, making her shiver as warmth spread from the spot. “Because you’re always amazing. It’s impossible for you to be anything else.”
She ran her nails lightly over his head, and delighted in the fact that she could make him shiver, as well. “Thanks, Hugh.”
“Also, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Sleep was creeping up on her again, and her eyelids slid shut. “I know.” This time, she actually meant it.
She was almost asleep again when he said, “Grace?”
“If you woke me up to tell me ‘good night’ again, I’m going to punch you in the junk, John Boy.”
His husky laugh was warm against her neck. “Sorry. I’ll let you sleep.”
“Okay.”
“Just one question.”
“Junk. Punch.”
“Please?”
“One question, and then I can sleep?”
“I promise.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath. Now that she was curious, she wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing what his question was anyway. “Fine. What?”
“When Martin Jovanovic is arrested, are you planning on moving back to California?”
Grace went still. Everything had been so crazy recently that she hadn’t wanted to think about what she’d do if she didn’t have to hide anymore. Over the past weeks, it had been enough just to survive. Now, when she thought about returning to the life she’d left in California, she felt a little flat. Even though she missed Penny and her home and her job, she couldn’t imagine leaving Hugh and Jules and the kids and even Theo and Otto. This weird little town had become home.
She must’ve been silent too long, because Hugh spoke again. “That’s fine if you want to.” She sucked in a breath as the words stabbed her heart. “I’m sure I’ll learn to like it there. Maybe I can be a motorcycle cop like in that eighties show. It might be fun to be able to grow oranges in our yard, too. Whatever you decide, we’ll work it out.” He pressed a kiss to her neck as he tucked her closer to him.
Giving his head another stroke, Grace blinked back surprised—but happy—tears. She hadn’t expected that he’d offer to move to California with her, rather than make her choose between him and her old life in LA.
That one gesture pushed her over the line, and Grace knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved K9 Officer Hugh Murdoch.
Chapter 20
As she glanced around the food court, Grace gave a humorless huff of laughter. Yet again, she was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable chair, scared out of her mind as she waited to talk to someone she really didn’t want to see. At least it wasn’t at a police station this time. She took a tiny sip of her lukewarm coffee, trying to ignore how the cup resisted leaving the sticky surface of the table. Food court or police station—it was a toss-up as to which was worse. At least this coffee wasn’t drugged.
Her knee bounced up and down, and she pressed her hands against her thigh to stop the nervous motion. It would be fine. Even if Noah was part of Martin’s evil empire, he couldn’t do anything to her in the middle of a busy Denver mall on a Saturday afternoon. Besides, the FBI agents would be listening from their surveillance van in the parking lot, and Shankle had promised that there would be undercover agents nearby.
Hugh had lobbied to be one of them, but Shankle had told him to count his blessings that he’d be allowed to stay in the van. Grace wasn’t sure how Hugh had finagled his way onto the FBI team, but she was intensely glad that he had. Knowing that Hugh was just a two-minute sprint away was the only thing that kept her in her seat. If he’d hadn’t been there, Grace was pretty sure that she would have called the whole thing off and run, tail tucked, back to the van.
As she scanned the crowd again, Grace tried to turn spot-the-FBI-agent into a game. Was the woman frowning at her phone, shopping bags piled around her, one of Shankle’s colleagues? Grace cocked her head thoughtfully, but then dismissed the possibility. The woman’s knee-high boots were too nice to be part of a government agent’s disguise. Grace turned her attention to a couple of men a few tables away who were holding hands and whispering to each other, ignoring their plates of fast-food Chinese. Were they on the FBI team? Her fingers drummed on the table as she mentally filed them as definite maybes.
“Kaylee.”
Her pulse, which had settled a little while she played her game, took off again at a dead run. Jerking her head around, she looked at Noah, who was standing right next to her table. How had he gotten so close without her noticing? She’d picked an out-of-the-way table intentionally, and there wasn’t anyone else sitting nearby. She kicked herself for being oblivious to his approach.
His smile faded, turning quizzical, and Grace realized that she’d been silently staring at him with what was probably a horror-st
ricken expression.
She gave herself a mental slap. This was it. She needed to get this done. If she wanted any semblance of a normal life, if she wanted Hugh and Jules and the kids and everyone she came into contact with out of danger, then she had to go through with this meeting.
She forced a smile. “Oh! Noah, you startled me. Hi.” Trying to hide a wince, she widened her grin, knowing that she sounded—and probably looked—strange. It was just so odd to see him, in all his Disney prince–like glory.
“No hug?” he teased, holding out his arms.
Hug? Her brain rebelled at the idea, but she didn’t want him to think she’d already decided he was Martin Junior. Standing on shaky legs, she reached out to give him a stiff embrace. Although she tried to keep it quick and as casual as a hug could be, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her stiff body flush against his.
Noah wasn’t nearly as muscular as Hugh, but he was only an inch or so shorter than the cop and had a fairly solid build. Grace used to love Noah’s long, tight hugs, but now she only felt panicky and trapped. Fighting down the urge to struggle wildly, she pushed against his chest with both hands until he shifted back slightly.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, still not fully releasing her. Twisting out of his hold, she offered him another insincere smile as she turned back to her seat. Although she hoped that she hid her fear, Grace knew it had to be obvious to Noah. After all, she used to sink into his hugs, enjoying the feeling of being safe. She almost laughed out loud at the thought that she’d believed that Noah would keep her safe.
“Nothing,” she said as she slid back into her chair. “This whole situation just has me really spooked.”
His posture relaxed a tiny amount, and he sat in the seat across from her, immediately leaning across the table. “Understandable. From the little you’ve told me, that had to have been terrifying.”
A small, irreverent part of her wondered if she should warn him about the mysterious sticky spots adorning the table, but she quickly wrenched her brain back on topic.
“Yes. It was definitely terrifying.” She fought the urge to play with her necklace. Although she’d borrowed most of her outfit from Jules, the pendant—and its tiny, hidden video camera—was on loan from the FBI. They’d also hooked a more traditional wire to her bra, and the location was such a movie cliché that it had made her choke out a laugh. To keep her hands from drawing attention to the necklace, she lowered them to her legs, digging her fingers into her thighs right above her knees. “You didn’t tell Martin that you were meeting me, did you?”
His look of horror appeared authentic, but she wasn’t going to take anything from Noah at face value anymore. “Of course not. I still think you’re mistaken about him, but I kept your confidence.”
“Thank you.” She stared at her hands again, wishing for a better poker face. If Noah was involved in—or even knew about—Martin’s crimes, then he was a much better actor than she was.
“Tell me what happened,” he urged, bringing her gaze to his again. “I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay? Do you have someone you can stay with, or are you alone? You need to come back to California with me. We’ll figure this thing out with Uncle Martin. He’s a reasonable guy. You’ll see when you get to know him.” Leaning across the small table, he reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek.
It was an effort not to jerk away from his touch. Noah seemed so sincere, so caring, but Grace couldn’t bring herself to trust him. That aura she’d always noticed about him—that sense of confidence and self-assurance—was still there, but it seemed hollow now. His standard good looks paled in comparison to the thought of Hugh. The cop had shown her what a true hero was, and it wasn’t this faded copy of a Disney prince who could very possibly be hiding his uncle’s deadly crimes.
“I’m okay,” she said, not sure which question to answer first. Picking up her coffee cup, she pretended to take a sip to give her an excuse to shift back enough that Noah’s hand dropped from her face. She didn’t want to give him too much information. As close as he was to his uncle, she didn’t trust that Noah wouldn’t slip up and give something away. “I’m in a safe place.”
“You mentioned the FBI earlier. Are they protecting you?” he asked, sitting back. He didn’t seem offended that she’d moved away from his touch. “I’d feel better knowing that you had someone watching out for you, at least. Do they have you in witness protection?” He glanced around the food court and frowned. “If so, they’re doing a poor job of it. Did you come here by yourself?”
Hugh’s face immediately flashed in her mind, and she had to push down a sappy smile that wanted to emerge. Focus! “No, not witness protection. It’s nothing official, but I do have friends who are helping me. I’m not alone.” Not anymore. “Plus, I’m meeting you. It’s not like I need the FBI to protect me from you.” Her small, disbelieving laugh was mostly honest.
“True. I just don’t like the idea of you being afraid and alone.”
She waved her hand to brush off his concern. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Your uncle is a dangerous man. You’re not planning on confronting him with what I told you, are you?”
Staring at the sticky table, he blew out a short breath. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to think. Tell me again what you thought you saw that night at my uncle’s house.”
Grace frowned. “I didn’t just imagine this.”
“No, of course not.” Although his tone of voice was smoothly apologetic on the surface, she heard a slight hesitation. “All I meant was that we all see things differently. That’s why eyewitness accounts are considered to be the least reliable evidence. People filter everything through their own experiences. I didn’t mean to say you were making this up. I know you better than to think you’d ever invent a story like that.”
It took her a second for his comments to sink in, for her to realize that he was trying to make her doubt herself, to question whether she really did see those three battered, bloody men. Swallowing the angry words she wanted to let fly, Grace pasted on a syrupy-sweet smile instead. “I’m glad that you know me so well that you realize I wouldn’t make up a crazy story about your uncle torturing people.” When he frowned, she dialed back the saccharine gratitude. As much as she wanted to tear into him for trying to gaslight her, that wasn’t the purpose of the meeting. “He’s like a dad to you, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Noah looked a little startled by the change of subject, and his answer sounded bluntly honest.
Reaching across the table, she laid her hand on his. “I’m sorry. This must be so hard to hear.”
Just like that, the mask was back. “Thanks, Kaylee. I just want to be here for you. What do you need?”
“Help me understand.” It was much easier to try to pump information from Noah-bot, with his fake platitudes and barely hidden condescension, than it was from honest Noah, who reminded her too much of the man she’d dated less than a month ago. “You know Martin so well. Is there any reason for him to be involved in this? Could he have fallen in with some bad company? Maybe he got mixed up in illegal things and realized too late that he was stuck.”
Noah’s eyes cooled as he pulled his hand out from under hers. “Uncle Martin is not a weak man. He wouldn’t blindly follow”—he spat out the word—“some criminal. My uncle is a leader.”
Grace wondered if Noah realized that he wasn’t helping his uncle’s case. “What about his friends or business partners? Do any of them seem like they could do something like this? Maybe your uncle didn’t even know about what was happening in the basement.” That wouldn’t explain why Martin had tried to drag her back into the house, but she was hoping to get Noah talking.
“Uncle Martin wouldn’t associate with someone who’d condone torture, much less use it.” Noah’s hands fisted for just a split second before he flattened them out again. That small flash of obviou
s anger made her stomach clench. The meeting hadn’t produced any helpful information, and, by the way Noah was shifting in his chair, he wasn’t going to be staying in the food court much longer. If she didn’t get him to give her something, this would be a waste—all the work that went into arranging it, all the FBI agents’ time, all of her anxious moments leading up to the call and this meeting. Hugh should be home in bed, recovering from his injuries. Instead, he was here, just in case she needed him to save her.
Resolve hardened in her. Noah might not volunteer anything that could help them in the case against Martin Jovanovic, but she was going to try her hardest to get him to spill. For the FBI agents and for the tortured men and for Hugh and for her future, she was going to push until he walked away from her.
“If Martin didn’t do it, and none of his acquaintances did it, then why were those men being tortured in his house?” she demanded, dropping all pretense of sweetness.
Noah’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “How do you know they were tortured?”
“Their injuries were pretty obvious,” she said, mimicking his posture so that they were face-to-face. “So were the chairs they were tied to, and all the knives and pliers laid out next to them. Oh, and the blood. There was a lot of blood.”
“Did you actually see them being tortured?”
“Just the aftermath.” Her nervous stomach settled, and all she felt was calm. “You don’t need to see a house burn. If you see the smoldering ruin, you’ll have a pretty good idea about what happened.”
He made a scoffing sound, his gaze so cold that she would’ve cowered if she hadn’t been so focused on making him say something to implicate Martin. “You don’t know who those guys were. They could’ve staged it. Every successful business owner has enemies.”
Her laugh came out as a humorless bark. “Right. Because an empty eye socket is easy to fake. This wasn’t pretend blood and Halloween party favors, Noah. If your uncle has enemies, it’s because he tortures them.”
