Duane whistles. “Nice car, man.”
Jason grabs his keys from the valet and does that weird fist bump thing with Duane. Boys.
My ass burns when I sit on the back seat. Why the man has leather seats in the hot ass desert, I’ll never know. I hiss and put my hands under my flaming flesh. “Son of a bitch, Jase. Couldn’t you have at least put a towel down for me?”
I can’t see Duane’s face, but what I do see is his shoulders bouncing up and down, laughing at me. I smack him on the shoulder for good measure. He stops and squares his shoulders.
I smirk at Duane’s response and glare at Jason in the rear view mirror.
He gives me yet another questioning look and I bulge my eyes out as far as possible to shut him up. That does the trick; he looks away and pulls out into the crazy airport traffic.
I slip my Ray Bans on and take the win for what it is. I shut him up. It’s a freaking miracle.
“Hold on baby girl, they’ll cool off soon enough,” he says as he plays with the dials on the dash. Almost instantly, cool air rushes through the seats and my burning rear end begins to practically sizzle in happiness.
My body relaxes and I lean my head on the headrest, smiling happily.
Traffic is fucking atrocious. More times than not, I get lost and turned around at this airport. Add in the crazy drivers, I’m lucky I ever found my way out of this place. I’m glad I’m not driving.
Duane and I haven’t talked about what our plan is and, now that I think about it, that was probably stupid considering I have no idea what I’m supposed to expect.
Duane and Jason talk to each other up front, but the air conditioning is on full blast, and I can’t hear a word either of them are saying. I don’t know why it’s so important that they get along, but it is. Seeing them laugh and joke makes me glad.
As we pull onto the freeway, my childhood floats by as I stare out the window. Memories of my happy family visiting the zoo waft into my thoughts. It ended up raining while we were there for my tenth birthday, but I didn’t care. My dad held an umbrella over my mom and me as we happily strolled along the paved street going from animal to animal. I was soaked to the bone by the time we saw every animal in the zoo, but I was happy. That might have been the last time I was truly happy at home.
I suck in the sadness, and turn my eyes back to the men in the front seat. The conversation seems to have turned serious, they’re no longer laughing, and they seem to be talking in hushed tones. I drag my butt to the edge of the seat to hear them more clearly.
“It’ll be fine, Jason. I’ll take care of her,” Duane says, making his emotions drip from his words.
My heart does a pole vault in my chest.
I try to block out every other sound to hone in on their conversation.
“Can I trust you? Because I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her, Rynard. I’m fucking serious.” Jason begins to raise his voice. His blue eyes find mine in the mirror and I stare at him, pleading. For what, I have no idea.
It’s best to stop snooping, so I turn back to staring out of the window, avoiding the intense conversation in the front seat.
A tear drips from my eye and I quickly dab it away. My heart can only take so much.
Allowing Ann to fall asleep on me on the plane was a mistake. Those lines I like to think I drew when I found out I was representing her are getting washed away at an unhealthy rate.
It’s wrong. Right?
Fuck, it doesn’t feel wrong. Every touch with her seems right. She’s the missing piece in my life I never even knew I was missing.
Fucking frustrating.
When we meet up with Jason at the baggage claim, I’m a bit puzzled by their relationship. The way she talked about him on our trip here, I thought he was gay. Seeing this good-looking guy act so natural with Ann sort of threw me for a loop. I don’t know where they stand.
Hell, I don’t know where we stand. Watching them together makes me question things I thought I knew for sure before I got here.
Have they dated? Does he like her?
Those are things you shouldn’t be thinking about, Dickhead.
And his car? Could he get anymore Hollywood? Here I am, driving my old beat up truck while this guy is driving a fucking chick magnet on wheels. Not that I care so much about the chicks it attracts. I only care about mine.
Wait. Did I just say that?
Ann isn’t mine.
I breathe deep and rub my head together between my hands. Ann is in the back, chewing Jason out about his leather seats. It’s hysterical. Even through my jeans, my ass is on fire, so I can imagine her crinkled face as she attempts to relieve her burning ass. She whacks me on the shoulder, and I take that as my cue to shut the hell up. I’m not a stupid man. I do as I’m told.
The first few minutes of the car ride aren’t so bad. Jason tells me about a time when Ann got bucked off her horse and landed in horse shit, and I’m cracking up. I turn around to see Ann’s reaction, but she’s either asleep or not listening.
I twist my body back to the front to listen to Jason talk about Ann. He goes on and on about how great she is, and that she’s incredibly special to him.
To my utter fucking happiness, the more he talks about her, the more I feel like he’s talking about his sister. It shouldn’t calm me down, but it does.
We’re getting closer to the police station when Jason turns around to look at Ann. He flusters and lets out a frustrated sigh. I don’t know what the guy’s problem is.
Taking his sunglasses off, Jason puts his arm on the console.
“Listen man, you seem like a good guy.” He addresses me.
I situate myself, facing him.
Uhh, thanks?
“But you need to know she may look like she’s holding it together, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s having a hard time.”
I can feel that. She puts on a show for everyone, but I can see in her eyes she has some serious issues.
If I could do this trip alone, I would. I don’t want her to hurt.
I don’t want to hurt her. This is confusing.
There’s one thing that’s for certain, I’m going to protect her with everything I have. She’ll have me, no matter what. I’m here for her.
She’ll have me for as long as she wants me.
I have that epiphany and dart my eyes to the window. Storing my feelings in a metaphorical box and hiding it away in my mind is one thing, but really hearing it in my head is a whole other story.
“It’ll be fine, Jason. I’ll take care of her.” And I will. I’ll do anything for her. She’s never going to be alone.
My heart and head are clashing for the title of biggest idiot and I’m not sure which is winning.
Jason sighs in frustration and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can I trust you? Because I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her, Rynard. I’m fucking serious.”
I bring my eyes back to look at him, man-to-man. Removing my sunglasses, I look straight into his protective eyes.
“You can trust me,” I whisper so Ann can’t hear. “I get it. You’re worried about her. I am too. I’ll do everything in my power to protect her. She’ll be safe with me.”
I flick my eyes to the backseat and see Ann wiping her face. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but it’s not the time or the place. I crank up the radio.
“She’s not just some client to me,” I admit.
There it is. Out in the open.
“I had a feeling.” A sly smile creeps onto Jason’s face.
We’re stopped at an intersection and he turns to face me. “She’s special you know. If you mess this up, it’ll be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.”
I don’t have enough time to explore what he really means, so I give him a curt nod and put my sunglasses back on.
We pull up to the station and it looks like every other police station I’ve ever been to. Plain and void of character.
I open Ann’s door, offering my hand to help her out. She acc
epts and we walk in.
The lead investigator stands at the front, talking to a police officer. He dismisses the officer and looks to us.
I step around Ann and offer him a handshake.
“Rynard, good to see you. Is this Ann?” He gestures toward Ann, standing next to Jason.
With her hand wrapped around his arm, she’s saying something to him I can’t make out, but he has his eyes on me. I tilt my head, in hopes to get her to walk over. Jason understands and leans down to whisper in her ear. Her eyes slide to me, and she nods, walking to me in confident strides.
“Ann, this is Joseph Hilson. He’s the new lead investigator for your father’s case.”
Ann’s trembling hand meets Joseph’s.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hilson,” Ann says sweetly, confident.
“Oh honey, please call me Joey.” The sixty-year-old, balding man blushes and hoots. His laugh rumbles from his Santa-like belly and it seems to calm Ann down a bit.
A smile appears on her gorgeous face and she nods. “Alright, Joey.” She turns to Jason. “This is my best friend Jason.”
Joey smiles at Jason and shakes his hand. “Good to meet you, son.”
Jason nods. “Likewise, sir.”
Joey claps his chunky hands together and ushers us to his office. Once we sit in the three chairs in front of his little desk he takes out a folder and hands it to me. It contains pictures of Ann’s dad. I quickly shuffle past them and utter thanks.
“So, Ann,” Joey starts, “Duane here told you why you’re here?”
Ann tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the same strand I keep messing with, and she looks to me. When I meet her eyes, she nods and looks back to Joey.
“Yes, he told me someone wants to talk to me.” Lips quivering, her voice breaks. She brings her hand to her mouth.
Jason puts his hand on her back and rubs, making me wish I could swat his hand away and do it myself.
“Did he kill my father, Joey?” She asks, bluntly.
Joey’s brows crinkle and he hands Ann a tissue. “I’m sorry, honey. He hasn’t talked. We can’t get anything out of him.” He breathes in. “That’s why you’re here.”
His grandfather-like quality is a nice change, and I’m happy he took over the case. There’s been some serious speculation about the Conrad Daniels case, and I have a nagging feeling the previous investigator had a hand in shoving things under the rug.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” Ann dabs her eyes. She squares her shoulders, wipes her face and transforms into the strong woman I’ve seen many times over the past few days.
My pride beams as she stands up and adjusts her shirt, making a show of her coolness. I let her out the door after Joey steps out and we follow him to the back where they hold suspects.
Joey turns to us. “I’m sorry, Jason, but you have to stay out here with me.” He then turns to Ann. “Duane can go in with you, if you feel comfortable. If not, you can go in alone. We’ll be right behind the glass.”
Ann looks at me. I smile encouragement at her.
“I want him to go with me.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and put my hand on the small of her back. When I open the door I see Brenton Hall sitting behind the long desk.
He’s dressed in a black hoodie that’s pulled over his head, black jeans and black boots. He personifies trouble and I step in front of Ann to somehow block her from his menacing stare.
His face breaks out into a snarl the moment he sees Ann. The instant anger I feel toward the man nearly forces me to climb over the table and beat him to death. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming sensation of protectiveness. It’s like a button in my brain snapped and I want to take all of the hurt this man might spew at her.
Not prudent to the situation, Rynard.
I guide her to the chair sitting opposite Brenton. Her face shows no emotion, which I’m sure is her way of coping. She stares at him, saying nothing. They openly study each other. A few minutes pass and I get tired of waiting for the prick to speak up.
“Well, she’s here. What do you have to say to her?”
Brenton’s eyes twitch and he flicks his gaze toward me. “Who are you? You don’t need to be here.”
His question pisses me off more than it should but I need to get into lawyer-mode. My instincts kick in and I’m all business.
“I’m her lawyer and I do need to be here. Say what you need to say.”
He scratches the side of his ear and smiles a smile that chills me to the bone. In all of my years, I’ve never seen someone so—utterly lost. His eyes, empty. His expression, hateful.
“I wasn’t planning for an audience, but whatever. Do you remember me, Ann?”
She looks at him and scrutinizes his features, not finding any redeeming quality. She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
He laughs a sadistic melody. “I figured as much. We went to school together. My mom Emmy used to watch you when we were kids. We’d catch frogs together down by the lake at your house.”
Brenton removes his hoodie and Ann gasps. Her eyes begin to water, and she shakes her head again.
Brenton’s hands are on the table, casually crossed, and Ann slides her hands toward him. “Brent?”
I’m floored. What the hell is happening? One minute I’m contemplating killing him, and the next Ann is taking hold of his hand like he’s some long lost friend.
“Ann?” I interrupt.
Seriously, what the fuck is going on?
She smiles at me. This time, it’s a joyful one. I’m still thoroughly confused, but she turns back to Brenton.
“You look different,” she states. “You don’t even look like you.”
His manic features disappear and he slouches in his chair. “Plastic surgery will do that to you. But you do remember me?” He confirms again.
Ann pulls her hands back to her lap and nods.
“Of course I do. How could I not? You look different though. I would have never recognized you. And you changed your last name? I’m so confused. How did this happen? Why are you even here? Did you kill my dad?”
The questions roll out of her mouth quickly and Brent’s eyes bulge. He can’t seriously be offended. He brought her here—to a police station.
Well, buddy, what did you expect?
His gaze travels back to me. In a matter of a few minutes, he’s gone from looking like a cracked psychopath to looking like a lost little boy. I’ve never seen anything like this before.
With pleading eyes, Brenton looks to Ann, pointing his finger at me. “Can you trust him?”
Without reluctance, Ann affirms, “Very much so. Without a doubt. Why?” She rubs her head. “God, Brent, what the hell is going on?”
That’s what I’d like to know.
“Can they hear us?” Brenton switches his questioning to me, looking straight at the two-way mirror.
“Yeah, they can, man. Just say what you need to say,” I respond.
Brenton rakes a shaky hand through his long greasy hair and sucks in a breath.
“Look, it’s complicated. We can’t talk here. They don’t have anything on me, Ann, but I couldn’t get ahold of you, so this was the only way…” He trails off.
“The only way for what?” I ask. Has this fucker never heard of the Internet? I’m starting to get pissed because he isn’t telling us, her in particular, anything. We’ve wasted time, basically.
He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “To figure out who killed her dad. Jesus Christ, we have to find a way to prove he did it.”
Ann’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you talking about?”
That sick, menacing look returns. “Allan Fairfield.”
Ann face falls, shocked. She grabs at her shirt, catching her breath.
“Why would your dad want kill my dad?”
My head whips toward Ann. His dad? This just got all kinds of complicated. It’s time to step in and reel the situation back. It’s out of control, and I don’t like not hav
ing control.
“They haven’t charged you with anything?” I question, not really sure what hell is going on.
“No, I just came down here trying to find Ann. They said I looked suspicious, so they kept me for questioning. A lot of good that did them.” He pulls at the loose thread on his hoodie. “But Ann, I need you to help me. You’re the only one who can.”
The last thing I want Ann to do is make a rash decision. I grab her hands, and spin her around to face me.
“You do not have to do this. We can go home and this can all be over. Brenton here says he knows who killed your dad. The cops can do the rest. You can step back and let them figure it out.”
She’s already shaking her head. “No, I have to do this. I can feel it. The cops are missing something.”
I knew she wouldn’t let this go. Not that I blame her. She’s a fighter and I know she feels the need to figure out whoever ruined her life.
I’m not one to tell a woman what to do, so I nod and face Brenton.
“Fine, figure out a way to get out of here. It shouldn’t be too hard considering they just brought you in for questioning.” I dig for my wallet and hand him my card. “Call me when you are ready to talk. We’ll be here for a few days.”
Brenton looks sullen, but agrees.
Ann and I get up to exit the door when Brenton stops us. “Hey, Ann. A couple days after your dad died, I heard Mom and Dad fighting. I didn’t know what it was about but I heard him screaming about the question marks. I don’t know what that means, but maybe you do.” He looks at a police officer that comes into the room. “I’ll see you soon.”
With that, I escort Ann out of the room, and head for Joey’s office. Joey and Jason meet us in the hallway and Ann runs into Jason’s waiting arms. They embrace, and Jason kisses Ann on the head.
Joey approaches me with a surly expression. “We can’t hold him any longer. We’ll out-process him, and he’ll be out of here in a couple hours.”
I nod as Ann and Jason walk up to us.
I can’t hold out any longer, I grab Ann’s hand.
Eyeing our hands, I decide right then and there I need to figure my shit out so I can find a way to make this work with her. I don’t want to play by the rules anymore; I can’t. It’s moments like these when I really have to step back and take a breath. Ann is important. Having her in my life is imperative to my happiness—to her happiness. It’s so easy—us. We make sense, it’s time I figure out how to get around the judgment of my job and find a way to make her mine.
Unable to Resist Page 10
