Marked (Tortured Heroes Book 3)

by Jayne Blue

  Jillian was quiet for the drive back to her townhouse. It had been a long day and she looked exhausted. I saw her eyes close a few times as she leaned against the passenger window and wondered if I’d have to carry her inside. But when I pulled into the driveway, she was wide awake and smiled at me.

  “Wait here,” I said. “I’ll check the house. I’ve got a man meeting us here in about an hour, he’ll be the night watch.”

  “Good,” Jillian said, yawning. “I’m hungry for pizza. I’d just go ahead and order but figured you’d want to coordinate that too.”

  Smiling, my stomach growled. “Yes, ma’am. I like anchovies.”

  “Yuck. You’ll get pepperoni and you’ll like it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I exited the vehicle and headed for the front door. As Jillian waited, a red sedan screeched to a halt behind my car, parking at an angle to block me in. My back went up and I turned on my heel and ran for it.

  “Get down!” I yelled to her. Jillian looked bewildered but ducked her head below the window. I sprang into action and pulled my weapon. Diving, I put myself between my car and the sedan and trained my gun on the driver. White male. Mid-forties. Black hair, tan skin.

  “Out of the vehicle. Slowly. Hands where I can see them!”

  The driver opened and closed his mouth like a fish and gave me a cold stare. I went on autopilot, ticking off details that might matter later. White dress shirt. No tie. Defensive posture. He brought his hands up and opened his door. I moved forward and pulled a set of cuffs out of my back pocket.

  “Hands behind you,” I yelled. He complied but yelled to Jillian.

  “You going to just sit there?”

  “Yeah, asshole. That’s exactly what she’s going to do.” I cuffed him and pushed him down so his cheek lay against the hood of his car. The guy was about three inches shorter than me. Thick through the shoulders and the middle. His gold Rolex flashed as I put the cuffs on him. Then I pressed my elbow into the middle of his back to keep him in place.

  Jillian rolled down the car window and I yelled to her to stay put and stay down.

  “Get your stinking hands off me,” the asshole said, though his voice was muffled against the hood. I yanked him up and pushed him forward.

  Jillian opened her door and started to walk toward us. “Goddamit,” I yelled. “I told you to stay in the fucking car!”

  “Huck,” she said, her face was ashen.

  “Tell him, baby,” the man said.

  “Don’t start,” Jillian answered, her lips drawn into a bloodless line; her eyes seemed filled with fury.

  “Tell me what?” I jerked the guy forward.

  He nearly lost his footing then twisted at the waist to look back at me. “That’s my fucking wife!”

  Chapter Eight

  Jillian

  Huck looked back at me with a coldness I hoped I’d never see again. His eyes flashed with contempt as he shoved Ross forward, nearly driving him to his knees. For a moment, my words wouldn’t come. As my heart raced I took a step back. Ross stared at me with wide pleading eyes; all color had drained from his face. I had the overwhelming urge to claw his damn face off.

  Taking a breath, I took a step toward him. Huck’s snarl stopped me in my tracks. Just this morning he’d asked me if I could do what I was told where he was concerned. I told him I could and had just failed the first test miserably.

  “I can explain,” I said and hated the desperation in my voice. God. For days I’d resisted the idea of having Huck or anyone like him in my life. Now that he looked ready to explode and leave, I found myself wanting to do anything to make him stay.

  I wiped a hand over my face as if I could reset the scene and make it all go away. But when I opened my eyes again, there Ross was, staring at me with those sad puppy eyes, his chest heaving with exertion and fear. Served him right. But none of this was fair to Huck. No matter what, he’d just acted to save my life, even though he couldn’t know Ross was no real threat.

  “This is Ross Dennison,” I finally answered. “And he is not my husband. But you can take the cuffs off if you want. He’s harmless.”

  Ross blinked hard and looked wounded for a split second. Then the rage filled his eyes that I knew all too well. I put up a hand to silence him before he said something that would make my urge to scratch his eyes out come back.

  “Can we get out of the damn driveway?” I asked.

  Huck jerked Ross forward, then did as I asked and removed the cuffs. Ross rubbed his wrists and turned on Huck. The idiot actually squared his shoulders and looked ready to throw a punch. But one look at the mountain of a man in front of him and even Ross had the good sense to take a step back and strike a neutral posture.

  “Good,” Ross finally said. “Let’s go inside. I just came to talk to you, Jilly.”

  I flinched at the nickname and I saw a flicker of understanding in Huck’s eyes. Just this morning I’d told him no one ever called me that. When he met my gaze I saw a hollowness that wasn’t there before. As far as he knew, I’d already told him two very big lies. I ran my finger hard along my brow then dropped my shoulders.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. This isn’t a good time, Ross. I think it’s better if you just turn around, get in your car, and go home.”

  “That’s a sensible idea,” Huck said; his voice seemed deeper and even more imposing.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Ross said, showing he lacked a similar sense.

  Huck bristled. His eyes darkened with the kind of menace that probably had dangerous criminals buckling at the knees. Ross took a step toward me.

  “Ross, this is Deputy Marshal Ray Huckman. Hu … er … Deputy Huckman, this is Ross Dennison, an acquaintance of mine. And he’s just leaving.”

  Ross looked back at me. “Jilly. I came here to talk to you. You won’t answer your phone. I was worried about you. I saw something in my newsfeed about there being a threat against you. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  Huck took a step forward and I raised a hand. “I’m fine. Deputy Huckman is here to make sure of it.”

  “What threat?” Huck asked.

  Ross turned back to him. “Something about an anthrax scare at the courthouse.”

  Huck muttered something under his breath. He hadn’t wanted news of the white-powder letter to leak.

  “Thanks for your concern, Ross. Now I really need you to go.”

  “Just …” But Huck didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. In two strides, he put himself between Ross and me and stared down at him with murderous intensity.

  “The judge has asked you politely to leave twice now. The third ends with you in handcuffs again. Do we understand each other?”

  Ross nodded, color draining from his face again. His eyes flicked to mine. I looked away. Then Ross finally turned to leave. He fumbled with the door handle to his car, slid inside and turned the ignition. Huck stood like a stone wall beside me as Ross backed out of my driveway. From the relative safety of his vehicle, Ross looked back one last time and gestured toward Huck with his middle finger before he squealed his tires and drove away.

  I turned to Huck and looked up at him. He put a light but firm hand on my arm. “Inside,” he said. “Now!”

  He went in ahead of me. I opened my mouth to say something but Huck lifted a finger to silence me. I clamped my mouth shut and raised a brow. Huck did a sweep of the first floor, gun still drawn. Then he bounded up the stairs to the loft above. His steps were lithe and nimble as he took the stairs two at a time. His shoulders flexed beneath his dark suit coat. He went through each room upstairs. His solid steps made a staccato beat against the hard wood. I leaned back against the door and crossed my arms.

  Huck’s eyes still held heated fury and purpose as he came back down the stairs and holstered his weapon. I kept my position leaning against the front door until it looked like he’d cooled to a simmer.

  Finally, he came to me. I followed him into the kitchen. Huck paced back
and forth, running his hands through his hair, placing them on his hips, then turning to face me.

  “Jillian, are you done lying to me? I can’t protect you if you lie to me. So you need to tell me right now if I’m wasting my fucking time.” His blue eyes glinted with cold fire. I can’t help that part of me felt turned on by it. Huck was strong, sure, and pure alpha male.

  “I don’t appreciate being called a liar,” I said, squaring my shoulders and stepping up to him, toe to toe. With my heels on, he still had half a foot on me, but I wouldn’t back down. No, I didn’t want him to leave and felt bad for how this all looked. But this was still my house and my life. I wouldn’t put up with bullying of any kind. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what is it? You tell me. That guy said you’re his wife. That’s not really the kind of thing that lends itself to a misunderstanding.”

  I put up a hand. “Ross is part of my past and nobody’s business.”

  “He’s my business! Everything about your life is my business right now. Do you get that there’s someone out there trying to kill you? It could be anyone. Chances are, it’s someone who at least thinks he knows you or has a connection to you. There’s real rage in those death threats. You think a scorned lover isn’t someone I need to know about?”

  I turned on my heel and started to pace the other way. I hated everything about this. These were my secrets to keep. My life. Huck wanted me to lay everything bare for him and give him control. I didn’t know if I could do it.

  “We’re not … lovers.”

  “Then what are you?”

  I let out a hard breath and finally turned toward him. “Fine. Yes! Okay? A long time ago. Ross and I were involved. We dated. Briefly. But it’s sooo over.”

  “Then why the fuck does he think you’re his wife?”

  I tapped my nails against the black granite countertop. It left a smudge from my fingertips. I grabbed a towel from the rack and started to scrub.

  “Jillian!”

  I whirled on Huck. “Because I married him!”

  Huck reared back like I’d slapped him.

  “It was a very messy time in my life. Right after my father died.” I felt like I’d just stripped myself naked in front of him. My heart pounded right out of my chest. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t stand to see those blue eyes staring right through me, judging me.

  From the corner of my eye, I watched Huck’s posture shift. He leaned back, placing his hands on the counter behind him as he listened. God. I couldn’t stand his judgment. His pity might be even worse.

  “He was a friend of my father’s,” I said, trying to push through it like swallowing down medicine. “Actually he worked for my father.”

  “Your father owned a construction company,” Huck said. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Like you said, I googled you.”

  I nodded. “Yes. Key Construction. He left the company to Ross when he died. Ross was his protégé. Things between us got messy.”

  Huck nodded. “That’s twice you’ve used that word. Life is messy, Jillian.”

  “Not my life!” My voice came out harder, more clipped than I wanted, more of a reflex than a sentence. I took a breath and tried to start again. “Ross was who everyone thought I should be with. It seemed natural. But it just wasn’t. God, I could never please that man when he was alive. I don’t know, I thought maybe I’d give it a shot when he was in the ground. Well, I wasn’t in a very good frame of mind. I’m not proud of it. But like I said, that was years ago. I was turning thirty. People were putting some pressure on me to settle down.”

  “Who was? You just said your father passed away.”

  I clenched my jaw so hard my head throbbed. He was asking all the questions I never wanted to answer again. He couldn’t know. Frank Key. My father. First-class son of a bitch. My mother tried so many times to get away from him. She got her wish when I was thirteen at the hands of a drunk driver on a snowy northern Michigan road.

  “I stupidly believed some of the consultants within the party who said marriage would soften my image. Ross and I got married in Vegas, for Christ’s sake, hitting just about every cliché there was. God, I barely even remember the ceremony. We never even lived together, okay? By the time we flew back to Michigan I knew I had to undo it. Ten weeks. That’s the grand sum total of my so-called marriage to Ross Dennison. I had it annulled. Like I said. Over.”

  “Well, he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s still running around calling you his wife.”

  I nodded. “He probably needs money. That’s exactly the third time I’ve laid eyes on him since the annulment papers were signed.”

  “How come no one else knows about this?” Huck was still in interrogation mode. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You said he wants money. Did you pay him off before? To keep him quiet?”

  “I gave him a lump sum settlement as part of the judgment. Yes. A few times over the years he needed a capital investment to keep the company afloat. He came to me. I never gave him money for that. Last I heard he’s in bankruptcy.”

  “And he just happens to show up now expressing concern for your safety?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I could feel hot tears forming behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut. I would not do this in front of Huck. It wasn’t about Ross. The hell with him. He was the past and I’d left him there. “Who knows why Ross does what he does. Like I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants more money. But he knows it’s a dry well as far as he’s concerned.”

  “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “What? Ross? No. You saw him. He’s thirty pounds overweight and chicken shit.”

  This got an unexpected smile out of Huck that melted me from the inside out. Things grew instantly easier between us and I hadn’t realized how much I needed it to be. I wanted him on my side and hated how needy that made me feel. God, I hated everything about this.

  “To be fair,” I said, smiling, “he looked a lot better five years ago.”

  Huck put his tongue firmly in his cheek and nodded in sarcastic disbelief. I shook my head and flipped him off. Huck pushed himself off from the counter and came to me. My heart fluttered as I looked up at him.

  “Jillian,” he said, his eyes glinting with concern. “You have to be straight with me. About everything. I’m going to have to check Ross out. You’re probably right about him not being dangerous but I have to be sure. And you have to let me know if there is anything or anyone else like him. Otherwise, I can’t be here and you won’t be safe.”

  I did something unexpected. I reached out and took Huck’s hand in mine. Then he reached out and took my other one. We stood there for a beat, holding hands and staring at each other. I blew out a breath and smiled up at him.

  “I know. And I am sorry. Ross just isn’t somebody I think about. He’s not even a blip on my radar anymore. Until today of course. Before him, I had a boyfriend from college for a few years. His name is Ted Lockwood. Last I heard, he was married with a bunch of kids and living in Boca Raton. There was another man named Trent Major. We went out for six months before I realized he was gay. Don’t laugh. I’m the first to admit I’ve had shitty taste in men. Then there was Ross. I’ve gone out on a bunch of first dates since then but not since I came to Ann Arbor. That’s it. That’s the pathetic truth.”

  Huck smiled and I swear if only I could crawl into that dimple. “You’re a lot of things, Judge Key. Pathetic isn’t one of them.”

  “Thanks,” I said, grateful for the easy air between us again. “Now, how about that pizza?”

  Huck let go of my hands and walked back out into the living room. “Sounds good. But now you owe me anchovies.”

  Chapter Nine

  Huck

  Things settled into a manageable rhythm between Jillian and me over the next couple of weeks. Her regimented lifestyle suited me just fine. I stayed out of her way as much as I could at home. For the most part, she took her files into her bedroom after eating dinner and I didn’t see her again until she wok
e up. The first few nights, the thin walls between us as I slept on my air mattress distracted me. Jillian slept light. More than once, I heard her tossing and turning. She moaned in her sleep and at first, I thought I heard her crying out someone’s name. I can’t help that a part of me felt jealous against whoever populated her dreams. The last few nights though, she stayed quiet, leaving me to wonder on my own.

  She was up every morning at five a.m. and wanted to take a three-mile run. At first, she’d have me follow from a distance, but as the days wore on, she started to want to talk. This morning, for the first time, I ran right alongside her. Since the night her douchebag ex showed up, she’d been more guarded with me, keeping the topics of our conversations to mundane subjects like her upcoming court docket or whether I wanted any special type of coffee stocked at the house. I suspected most of the relationships in her life must go like this, in little fits and starts where she drew people in then pushed them away.

  To some extent, her distance made things easier for me. I didn’t like what Ross Dennison’s appearance brought out in me. I’d wanted to break his damn neck and I knew it wasn’t just because of the threat I perceived when he pulled up in her driveway. I didn’t like how familiar he was with Jillian. He knew things about her I didn’t. Sure, that was bad for my job, but there was something else hovering under the surface. It made me jealous, dammit. Like he had a piece of her I would never be able to touch. I did my best to brush those thoughts away and focused on the one thing I could try and control: Jillian’s safety.

  The background check on Ross Dennison came back clean, but I wasn’t ready to check him off the list of potential threats. Like Jillian said, the guy was in financial ruin. By all accounts, Jillian’s father, Frank Key, was a shrewd, self-made businessman. Ross Dennison was a straight-up screw-up. It looked like gambling was a problem for him. A few contacts I had over at the Petoskey PD told me he’d been involved in a prostitution sting two years ago that he’d tried to cover up. Cutting ties with him had probably been one of the smartest things Jillian ever did. Still, the idea that loser had ever been close to her no matter how briefly rankled me.