Chrissie felt tears mist her eyes. “We are a product of our past lives. All we can do is try to change, for our future.”
He placed his hand on hers, making her jump. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know. Here’s the turn.” She used the turn signal and pulled off the highway, heading towards the suburbs where the little house she would be sharing with Joel and Sam stood waiting for them. As she drove past other houses, she wondered if this experience was going to change her, and make her give up her goal to forgo marriage and children, so that she could protect those in need, like Sam. Or whether Joel was enough to make her see what she was missing out on.
She shook her head. A pounding behind her eyes had started up, and she didn’t need it getting any worse while she was driving. That gave her more of a clue to her unease than her actual thoughts. Sudden headaches, like this, were often caused by stress, and the thoughts going through her head were stressful.
They were making her question what she knew, about the case and about herself. Right now, that was not going to be helpful. They had a safe-house to get to, one that the police chief had given her the keys to, and had assured them was not traceable.
Unless they were followed. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and she remembered how she had kept getting glimpses of Joel watching the road behind him when they drove to his house. They were nearing the safe-house now, and she didn’t want to lead anyone to their temporary sanctuary.
“Do you think we’re being followed?” she asked.
“No. I don’t. I’ve been checking in the side mirror. As far as I can tell, we are alone.”
She glanced at him. Was that a good thing? Being alone with a man she barely knew. Her eyes crept up to the rearview mirror again, only this time she was looking at Sam, who had fallen asleep, head tilted to one side, completely oblivious to the danger he was in.
And the more she thought about it, the more troubled she was as to the depth and breadth of their danger. She rubbed her temples, and Joel looked at her, concerned. She moved her hand back to the steering wheel and moved her head to one side, trying to ease the tension there.
“Are you OK?” he asked. “Something bothering you?” He inched down and looked in the side mirror.
“No, I’m still trying to process what you said. About Angela. And wondering if someone sold them out.”
She watched him for his reaction. “I know you hate thinking like that.” He looked across at her, and his eyes widened a little. “And I see what door you are knocking on. But I want you to know you can trust me.”
“Can I?” she asked.
“How many of us went into the room with the chief? You could have chosen any of them.”
“But you made sure I chose you,” she said uneasily. “Like you knew exactly which buttons to press.”
“Buttons? You mean because I made it obvious who you should choose if you wanted Sam protected?” he said, nodding. “I see. OK, I swear to you, that more than anyone you know, you can trust me. More than your boss, my boss, your family, anyone. I have your best interests at heart.”
“You mean Sam’s?”
“No, Chrissie. Yours. I promise to protect you, with my life if that’s what it comes down to.”
“Why?” she asked, her throat constricting as she said the words. She didn’t need to know the why, all she had to know was that he meant it. And that didn’t need a verbal answer, it was written on his face. Which both scared her and excited her.
That left one question. Why the hell did Joel look at her as if he loved her, when they had only just met?
Chapter Seven – Joel
It would be so easy to tell her how he felt. To reveal his bear and declare his undying love to her. Would she accept him, would she understand the mating bond, which made him want her above all else? A bond that would make him kill for her, and be killed for her, if that was what it took to keep her safe.
No. It would be too much. Although his bear nudged him forward and told him to grow a pair and get it over with.
Soon. First, we have to make sure we are safe here. If I tell her and she runs, we would be putting her in danger. Something we cannot do.
His bear agreed, reluctantly. Although he was poised, ready to act if given the slightest provocation. This was going to be more difficult than any other case he had worked. Never had his bear bristled under the surface like this, willing to expose them.
“I want you to stay in the car. Doors locked. If anyone approaches, sound the horn, and if you feel threatened, then drive away.”
Chrissie had parked her car outside the safe-house. He planned to get out, walk along the street checking for anyone suspicious, then turn back and head inside their new temporary home. As they approached, he had made sure to note the nearest stores. The house would already be stocked with groceries, but there was always a need for fresh milk and bread.
He held out his hand for the key, which she took from her purse, then opened the car door, got out and made sure he heard the sound of Chrissie locking it behind him. Then he took a stroll down the street, stretching his sore legs. His muscles were bunched up and tense, which he didn’t like. If he had to fight, he wanted to make sure he was ready, which meant warmed up. A pulled hamstring in the middle of the action would render him useless.
Trying to look inconspicuous, difficult when you were as tall and as broad as Joel, he made his way along the street. Chrissie had been right to insist he left his truck behind, Joel’s manly physique wouldn’t have been the only thing to stand out if he had parked a battered truck on a suburban street. He grinned. Did his truck say something about him? Like dogs look like their owners? He was like his truck.
What did Chrissie’s car say about her? He pulled it up from his imagination, every detail inside and out, just as his police training had taught him. Sure, it was black, like her long silky hair, which his fingers itched to stroke. But she wasn’t small and timid, which is what her car reflected. She was curvy in all the right places, voluptuous breasts he longed to caress, to see her response when he rubbed his thumb across her nipple. Then he would lower his mouth, suck it in, and roll his tongue over it, until her hazel eyes were heavy with desire.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked curtly.
Joel had walked up one side of the street, and then crossed over to walk back. An elderly man, in his late sixties, had been tending his front yard, and watching Joel at the same time.
“No, thanks. It’s been a long trip; I’m just stretching my legs.”
“Are you?” The old guy looked at him sternly. “Are you sure you’re not casing the joint?”
Joel hid a smile. “Casing the joint?”
“You know, about to break in.”
“No. I’m moving into number twelve just along here. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, but did not offer his name. The old guy simply looked at it, then he wiped his hand on his pant leg and thrust his bony hand into Joel’s.
“Queer goings on. I hope once you move in, we won’t have any more people coming at odd times.”
“Odd times?” Joel asked, his professional side becoming aware there might be something here he needed to know.
“Yes. First there were the cleaners. Then there was the man in the suit who came to fit a crib together.” He peered at Joel. “You have a baby?”
“Yes,” Joel answered.
“I hope it doesn’t cry all night. The people next to me in number eight have a baby. In the summer, we all have our windows open, and all I can hear is it crying.”
“He won’t cry all night,” Joel promised, although he had no idea if Sam was a good sleeper. But he did want a description of the man in the suit. Maybe the chief had come by to check everything out. “We had trouble with the store we bought the crib from. The manager said he would come out and put the crib together for us personally. Could you tell me what he looked like, so I can check he kept his word?”
“Portly. Balding head.
Looked as if he enjoyed too many late lunches. Typical management, if you ask me.”
“Thanks. What car did he drive?”
“A large silver one. BMW I think.”
“Thanks,” Joel smiled warmly. “I’ll let you get back to your chores.” Smiling, he headed off to inspect the house, checking Chrissie was still OK in the car.
She looked safe, but far from happy. He grinned and waved, she rolled her eyes. To her it looked as if he had been shooting the breeze, when he had made one very important discovery. Mr. Anderson had visited the safe house personally. Was that usual practice over at social services?
Taking the key from his pocket, he let himself in. Standing in the doorway he listened, checking for any sound of movement from inside. All he heard was the house settling around him, a sound he always found welcoming. Taking the first door on the left, he opened it to see a sitting room, soft comfy sofa, just right for snuggling on, and two matching chairs. Not much else.
The dining room and kitchen were the same, functional but sparse. Impersonal would be the most accurate description. Soon it would be filled with Joel’s new family, which was how he was seeing Chrissie and Sam; it was how you survived being undercover and not getting found out. You submerged yourself in a character. Only this time he was playing himself. With everything to lose.
The upstairs checked out: everything in its place, including the crib, which had been put together hastily, with a couple of the screws not tight enough to be secure. It kind of negated the reason for Mr. Anderson coming here. If it was to check that everything would be safe for Sam, he should have made a better job of assembling the crib.
Should Joel share this information with Chrissie? The idea had been that as few people as possible knew their whereabouts. How tight-lipped was Anderson? Would he tell? Especially if he was put under duress?
Now was not the time to worry Chrissie, or to air his suspicions about a man she obviously looked up to. As he looked out of the window, down onto the street below, he decided the house was safe enough, and it was time for them all to become better acquainted.
Chapter Eight – Chrissie
Sitting in the car and waiting for Joel to check things out was not exactly Chrissie’s idea of fun, especially when her so-called protector had been passing the time with the old guy from down the street. He did know that this situation was temporary, and low profile, didn’t he? Standing around introducing yourself to the neighbors was not part of their mission.
She sighed, feeling crabby, and knowing she shouldn’t be picking fights with him over something as small as saying hello to what could be a lonely old man. If anything, it should go in his favor, that he was friendly, and polite, and hot!
That was her problem; she was missing having him next to her, the warmth of his cramped body next to hers, the sound of his voice, both gentle and as sexy as hell at the same time. Did he have any idea of the effect he had on her?
Obviously he did. “Ready to come into our new home?” he asked, grinning as he leaned down to speak to her. She had been too preoccupied to notice him come out of the house, and she was surprised he didn’t say I told you to watch out for anyone approaching.
However, he looked relaxed, and waited for her to open the doors before offering her his hand, so he could help her out. “I’ve checked the house out; it all seems OK. There’s a crib in the second bedroom. But I’m not sure if I would prefer to move it into the main bedroom, with us.” He opened the back door, and unbuckled the seat belt, carefully lifting Sam’s baby carrier out. Sam’s head rocked from side to side, but he didn’t wake up. Joel carried him into the house, taking the utmost care not to wake him.
Once they were inside and the door was shut, Chrissie said, “You can leave the crib in the second bedroom. I’m sure there’s enough room for me in there, and you can take the master bedroom.”
“I… I thought it would be better if we all shared a room.” He looked genuinely startled that she would insist on them sleeping separately.
“Really? I don’t see what the difference is. If someone breaks in, the alarm will go off.” She pointed to the console on the wall. “You have the alarm code. Right?”
He looked down at the key in his hand. There was a fob on it, and she was guessing that had the code number on it. She smiled. “Nice try.”
“I didn’t…” He blushed, the color creeping across his tanned face, making him look young and vulnerable, not easy for the six-foot-plus god that he was. “I want to make sure you are safe. Both of you. If we’re in the same room, no one will get past me.”
“We’ll be fine. Sam and I know how to scream. Believe me, Sam definitely knows how to scream. At least if we are in separate rooms, you might get a good night’s sleep.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why, were you thinking of jumping my bones?”
She burst out laughing, stifling the sound as Sam stirred. “You have a way with words, don’t you? No, Joel, honey, you are quite safe with me,” she drawled.
“Pity,” he said, and headed to the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Actually, I’m starving. Shall we eat?” she asked, looking in the cupboards.
“Can you cook, Princess?” he asked, as he spooned the coffee, narrowly avoiding the dishcloth she threw at him.
“Not funny. At all.” She took out some rice and searched around for a pan.
“Why does he call you that?” Joel asked. “Seriously, I’d like to know.”
“My parents live in a big house. My dad made millions in his younger days. The whole dot.com thing. He got in and out at the right time. Invested the money carefully, and lived off the interest.”
“Nice. Are we talking millions? Or billions?” he asked, flicking the switch with a satisfied sigh as the coffee began to brew.
“We don’t talk about it at all,” she said curtly.
“Private, I get that. But we’re supposed to be husband and wife, so we need to know things about each other.” He leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and watched her work, which made her clumsy, and hot. But mostly it made her confused.
“We can make something up.”
“It’s usually easier to stick to the truth, or as near as you can make it.”
“Believe me, if we want to stay low profile, we don’t want to share who my parents are.”
“You intrigue me,” he said, coming over to her. “Are you royalty?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But if anyone knew who my family was, it would draw attention to us.”
“In what way?” he asked, frowning, his hand reaching to brush her hair back from her face. “Tell me. I think it would be better if I knew what I was trying to keep covered up.”
She looked at him, and then said, “This is between us.”
“Absolutely.” His hand dropped to her upper arm, and he stroked it, soothing her.
“My real name is Crystal Cartwright. But I’ve been Chrissie since childhood.” She watched his face, but it didn’t change. “My dad is famous for making millions, and then being stabbed by an armed robber. He lost the use of his legs. Spent the last twenty years in a wheelchair. All so some stranger could get high on his next drug fix.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been extremely tough. But that’s not the end of the world. People have full lives, even in a wheelchair.”
“He lost a lot of blood…” She wasn’t sure if she could carry on; the vision of her dad, lying there in a pool of blood, while she sat by his side crying helplessly still haunted her. It was why she had pushed her boss to let her have this case. The similarities were almost too much to bear. Only Sam was too young to help his mom, but she should have been able to scream, run for help, do something before her dad’s brain became irreparably damaged.
“I’m sorry. Truly I am.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest, and she breathed in the scent of him and languished in the safety he exuded. It reminded her of how she used to feel with her fath
er, before the robbery, before her dad became the center of her world for all the wrong reasons.
“My mom has devoted her life to looking after him. Spent their money on the best care, tried every treatment. Nothing worked.”
“And that’s why you became a social worker.” His chin was resting on her head, and she wondered if he could read her mind. “To protect those who are too weak to protect themselves.”
She nodded, and a sob escaped her. “My mom is so disappointed that I didn’t marry a rich man who would take care of me. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve tried to tell her that isn’t who I am. Not since that day. I was six, and in that moment all ideas of fairy tales and happy endings went away.”
“That moment does not define your life, Chrissie. It happened, it happened to you, and it sucks. But you have picked yourself up, and become a kind and caring young woman.”
She stepped back. “Trying to flatter me into sleeping with you?” She said it lightly, but the hurt in her voice was unmistakable.
“No.” He wiped a tear away as it trickled down her cheek. “No, I’m not that kind of guy. I just want you to be proud of yourself, as I am sure your mom is proud of you.”
“She’s proud of my sister. She married a rich man and has a child. She doesn’t understand me. I think, because she figured that money gives you security.” Chrissie turned around and resumed her search for the pan.
“Bottom cupboard,” he said, pointing. “Sometimes people just can’t find the words they need to say the things they want to say. My guess is your mom grew up with the idea you married for security, both financially and socially. You broke the mold.”
She smiled and turned to look at him. “I can see why you are good in Homicide. The gentle touch.”
“Me, gentle?” he asked, flexing his arms above his head. “You have seen my biceps, right?”
“Hard to miss, you like showing them off so much.”
“That’s better. And you should know, I have been in Homicide for around six weeks.”
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