Over the Line: On the Run Novel

by Lisa Desrochers

  He chuckles under his breath. “Don’t be until you taste it.”

  He escorts me inside and we take the elevator up seven floors. When he opens the door to his apartment, the sunset casts the room in a golden glow. Through the window in front of me, between the buildings across the street, the sun sets over a marina.

  I step deeper into the room. It’s small but nice, the kitchen to the right separated from the great room by a small table and two chairs. A leather sofa and plaid armchair sit in the middle of the room, facing a large TV on the wall between a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and the bedroom door. The bookshelf displays a collection of antique globes, and classic movie prints adorn the walls. And it’s as tidy as Oliver’s place.

  I move to the window and look out toward the setting sun, chiding myself. This isn’t a competition. I need to stop comparing Wes to Oliver. “What a beautiful view.”

  “It’s what sold me on this place.” When I turn, he’s staring at me. I stand still as he approaches slowly, laying his hands on my hips. “You look amazing tonight.”

  I tip my face up and hold my breath as he leans in and brushes his lips across mine in the softest of kisses. It’s slow and nice and I let the feel of it sink into my skin. After a minute, he lets me go and moves to the kitchen.

  Now. I have to tell him now, before this goes any farther.

  I follow him to the kitchen, but then realize I’m shaking. Partly because, damn, that kiss was nice. This really could have been something. But more because of what I’m about to do.

  “What can I help with?” I ask.

  He pokes some buttons on the oven. “It’s pretty basic. I just need to broil the salmon, and warm the ginger sauce. The rice is in the cooker and the salad’s already done.”

  “Wow.” I look over his shoulder as he opens a bottle of white wine and fills two glasses, handing one to me. I sip and watch him move deftly around the kitchen. It’s only a few minutes later that everything is on the table. He refills our wineglasses and lights the candle in the center.

  “Have a seat,” he says, pulling a chair out for me. He sits across from me and makes a go-ahead gesture toward my plate.

  I pick up my fork and poke at the food on my plate, working up the courage to say what I need to. “How’d you end up doing this?”

  His fork stalls halfway to his mouth. “The Marshal Service?”

  I nod.

  He takes a bite and chews as he thinks about his answer. “I was probably four the first time I remember watching my granddad ride with the posse in the Fourth of July parade. He and his buddies were up on those horses, all decked out and larger than life, and that was it. I knew I was going to be a cop.” He smiles up at me. “Course, I thought it was going to be on horseback.”

  “Sheriff Wes?” I ask with raised eyebrows, sipping my wine.

  He holds my gaze for a moment before nodding. “I got in trouble more than once in elementary school for going vigilante on other students when they took something that wasn’t theirs or picked on another kid. I believed in swift justice, administered by my fists. By junior high, the school counselor told my mother I needed an outlet and funneled me toward the Hickman Police Department Explorer Program. I was basically a junior cop. They stopped leaving me in the car on calls involving violent offenders the first time I chased a fleeing perp down, took him to the ground, and cuffed him before the sworn officers could catch up.”

  I pick up my fork and take a bite of salmon. “How did you end up in Florida?”

  “I went to the academy right out of high school, worked a few years with the PD in Hickman, Louisiana, where I grew up. When I saw the US Marshal Service was looking for guys, I thought I could make a larger impact there. Made it through the training and they sent me to Tampa almost five years ago.”

  “So here you are, babysitting bad guys,” I tease.

  He watches his finger run along the rim of his wineglass. “The law’s always been black and white to me. Either you’re on my side or you’re a criminal. That simple. But then I met you.” His eyes lift to mine and level me in a gaze somewhere between longing and lament. “You’ve made me see shades of gray, Lee; turned everything on its head. Nothing is clear to me anymore. Being here with you flies in the face of everything I’ve thought I stood for, but I can’t help myself.”

  Something in my belly stirs, a quiet yearning. I cock my head and give him a smirk. “Starting to think maybe bad guys aren’t all that bad after all?”

  He leans closer, his elbows on the table. His eyes darken as they peruse my lips. “I’m thinking you might be very good.”

  The intimation in his voice prickles my skin into goose bumps.

  “Why would you think that?”

  He taps a finger on his temple. “Built-in bullshit detector. My job has made me pretty good at reading people. You’re strong and intelligent, but I don’t think you’ve got the stomach for the violence of your family’s lifestyle.”

  A stone drops in my stomach as the blast of my Cheetah unloading a round into Oliver’s chest echoes in my head. Suddenly, my hand is shaking. I lower my fork and dab at my mouth with my napkin. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to settle the frisson of nerves that has me wanting to bolt for the door before I can say what I need to.

  “You okay, Lee?” Wes asks.

  When I lift my eyes to his, I’m not convinced I don’t see a tinge of suspicion under the concern. Which only frazzles my nerves more.

  “Fine. I just …” I clear my throat and lace my fingers tightly in my lap under the table to stop the shaking. “What would happen if someone from Chicago found us here? What would be protocol?”

  When his gaze sharpens, I know I wasn’t imagining the suspicion. Despite what he just said, I am a bad guy and he knows it. “What’s going on, Lee?”

  “Nothing … I just …” Say it. Like ripping off a bandage. I shot Oliver Savoca and he’s tied to my bed as we speak. “I just want to know … so I can prepare my family in case …” I trail off, shaking my head. Why is this so hard?

  “Protocol,” he starts, still scouring my face with his eyes, “would depend on the severity of the threat. If the threat wasn’t imminent, we could keep you here on lockdown until we had another viable option available for you. In the scenario that your lives were in danger, we’d extract you immediately and take you to a hotel until we could get you on a plane to Virginia. Then you’d start the process all over again at Safesite.”

  “And what would happen to the person who found us? If you were to catch him?”

  He sets down his fork and sips his wine. “Again, it would depend on the situation. If he were a known associate of the mafia, or had arrest warrants, he would be taken into custody and prosecuted.”

  My stomach’s in a knot. I know what I have to do, but … “This is really good,” I say with a nod at my plate. “Ulie’s going to want your recipe.”

  He takes a bite and watches me as he chews. “How is she adjusting?”

  “It’s been hard. She’s given up a lot.”

  “The timing wasn’t good, I know,” he says.

  “Did you know Miley Cyrus wore her design to the Golden Globes in January?” I say, sipping the wine.

  His eyebrows arch. “I did not.”

  “It’s not right that she never got to live her dream.” There’s no hiding the guilt in my voice. “She has real talent.”

  He lowers his fork. “You did what you had to do, Lee. You did the right thing.”

  I look up at him and there’s understanding in his gaze. He’s the only person in my new life who knows what I did to my father. Keeping that secret from my siblings has been exhausting.

  We make small talk as we finish eating, and as we clean the kitchen it becomes clear that I’m not going to find the courage to tell Wes about Oliver. But what other option do I have? I can’t tell Rob. I can’t just let him go.

  I have no obligation to Oliver, no reason to protect him, but in my gut, I know that’s wha
t I’m doing. How do I protect both Oliver and my family at the same time?

  I wander out to the living room as Wes finishes up in the kitchen and look mindlessly over the shelf of DVDs below his TV.

  “I can put in a movie if you see anything you like,” he says, draining the last of the wine bottle into my glass. His eyes lift to me and I don’t miss the trickle of his gaze down the front of my dress.

  “I don’t really feel like a movie.” I’m still on edge, and the longer I stay here the more likely it is I’ll give myself away. “I really should be getting home. I want to make sure Sherm …”

  I trail off as Wes moves toward me, holding out a wineglass. The look in his darkening blue eyes, three parts desire and one part mischief, stalls my racing mind momentarily.

  He hands me my glass and sips his wine. His fingers twist through a loose strand of hair near my face. “Are you sure?”

  I nod, but I’m not sure of anything right now. He must see my indecision in my eyes, because he leans in slowly. He’s all testosterone and muscle, taut and ready to spring.

  It’s incredibly hot that he wants me, even though it’s against everything he stands for. He’s willing to break his strict code of ethics to be with me. So I close the short distance between us, pressing my mouth to his. He threads his fingers into my hair and tips his head, deepening our kiss. I go with it, letting him take the lead. His tongue slips into my mouth and caresses mine. I glide my hands over coiled muscle; biceps, pecs, ripped abs.

  He groans into my mouth when my hand slips under his shirt and I stroke my fingertips along the waistband of his slacks. His hand presses against my back, drawing me closer, then glides lower, to my ass.

  He draws back and drains his glass. He sets it on the coffee table, then takes mine and places it next to his. When he lowers himself into the cushions of the sofa, he brings me with him. He kisses me, and he tastes like wine as our tongues explore each other’s mouths.

  He peels me away as he catches his breath. “I have to know where this could lead us, Lee. I think about you more than I should … more than I want to. I need to know if there’s something to this.”

  My mind shuts off and my body takes over. I kiss him again and lose myself in sensation.

  We kiss for most of the next hour as our hands explore, learning the new landscape of each other’s bodies. His hands are large, strong, and sure, and when he uses them to glide my skirt up, I don’t stop him. He slips my dress off my shoulder and kisses the nub of my nipple through the lace of my bra. It hardens for him.

  I pull my bra strap down and he thumbs the lace aside. He cradles my breast in the palm of his hand and his thumb circles the areola, just a tickle over my sensitive skin.

  His hot breath feathers over my breast, pebbling my nipple tighter. “I want to carry you into that bedroom and find out everything there is to know about this sweet body.” He lifts my bra strap back into place. “But I think this could be something real. I don’t want ruin it before it starts by rushing things.”

  There’s an ache in my belly that tells me I would have followed through if he’d taken me to his bedroom. But the ache in my heart tells me I would have regretted it later. I climb off him and gain my feet, slipping the shoulder of my dress into place and smoothing it over my hips with my palms. “A true Southern gentleman.”

  Half a cocky smile curves his mouth. “There’s nothing gentle about me. Hopefully you’ll have occasion to find that out eventually.”

  My breath catches at the sex rush that contracts my inner muscles. I don’t need to sleep with him yet. I just have to know that my body wants to. Oliver Savoca is not the only man who can make me feel this way.

  Wes walks me to my car with his hand on my back. “I need to see you again.”

  I decide to be as straight as I can with him. “I really like you, Wes, but there are some things I need to work out before anything can happen between us.”

  He nods slowly. “Is it anything I can help with?”

  I think again about telling him about Oliver. He’s the only person who can help. Wes may have a solution that doesn’t involve Oliver going to jail or uprooting my family. But almost the second I think it, I know it’s not true. I need to think this through a little more thoroughly before I do anything. “Thanks, but not really.”

  He tips his head and gives me a slow smile. “I really think we can make this work, Lee. I hope you’ll give it a chance.”

  “I just need some time,” I say, resisting the overpowering need to kiss him again. Sending him mixed signals isn’t going to help.

  His gaze burns into mine as he opens my door and I lower myself into the car. “I’ll wait for your call.”

  Once I’m safely in my car, I kick off my shoes and toss them onto the passenger seat before starting the engine and pulling away. Wes leans against a parking meter and watches me go. I watch his form vanish into the distance in my rearview as I accelerate up the street … on my way home … to Oliver.

  I am so screwed.

  When I get home, I sit in the driveway for a long time, looking at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess, but I don’t do anything to straighten up. I want Oliver to see the aftermath of me with another man. We both need to understand that whatever we were doing in Chicago wasn’t real. I need to understand that so I can do what I need to do.

  Tomorrow, Rob and I are going to have a talk, and I hope when it’s over, Oliver is still alive. But he’s the one who came here. He knew the risks. So, in the end, whatever happens is on him.

  I will not feel guilty.

  Chapter 10

  Oliver

  The house has been quiet for hours—long enough for me to imagine Lee fucking her date in every imaginable position.

  Watching her dress for this asshole was excruciating. She looked hotter than I’ve ever seen her. When she left, I rolled my face into the pillow and yelled into it with every ounce of angst I felt at the prospect of her screwing another man.

  Rob sent Sherm up to bed a few hours ago. For an hour after that, there was the low murmur of an intimate conversation wafting up with the salt air from the porch below. Rob and a woman, as best as I could tell. I heard their good nights; long silences in which I’d bet their lips were locked; the pound of his heavy footfalls on the stairs. There was the fleeting urge to do something to draw his attention as he passed my door, but that would undo any trust I might be building with Lee. I came here for the code. I never really believed there could be more. But the way Lee kissed me, the way her body fell right back into old patterns, gives her away. Despite all our innate distrust of each other, she still feels this as much as I do.

  I need the code. But I need Lee too.

  If all else fails, I’ll use my leverage to get the code out of her, but until then, I’ll play this any way she needs for her to feel in control. So, instead of making any noise, I listened to Rob in the bathroom, preparing for bed. Then the house went still.

  For fucking ever.

  I’m watching the white curtain rise and fall with gusts of sea breeze, jonesing for a smoke, when I hear a car in the driveway. I forget all about my nicotine withdrawal and listen.

  Every sound carries up to me: the muffled blare of her radio cutting out with the engine; the car door creaking open and slamming shut; the whine of the front door hinges and the faint click of the latch as it’s gently pulled shut a second later.

  She shuffles around quietly downstairs for a minute, then I hear the soft pad of bare feet on the stairs. I remember how her shoes never lasted long on her feet. By the time I brought her home from wherever we were, they were always dangling from her fingertips by the heels.

  There’s a rush to my groin with the image and I realize that’s another trigger. Just one more way she lights my fire.

  The bedroom door clicks open and I feign sleep when she slips into the dark of the room. She sets a plate on the dresser on her way by and the scent of oregano and tomato sauce permeates the smell of seaweed on the dam
p night air. As she moves through a slant of moonlight on her way to the closet, I see she looks totally ravaged, her hair wrecked and her dress disheveled.

  I discover my line when my gut reaction is to find the prick she was with and put a bullet between his eyes. Organized crime might be a business that needs to be cleaned up, but this is personal. When it comes to Lee, I’m still willing to kill.

  I watch through hooded eyes as she undresses near the closet. She stands with her back to me and slowly slips her dress off her shoulders and shimmies it over her hips. It falls in a dark puddle at her feet. She sheds her bra and her thumbs hook into the delicate black lace of her thong. My heart thuds against my ribs as she slips it off. And then she’s standing naked in the moonlight, making my body react in ways it hasn’t responded to anyone else in all the months she’s been gone. She turns toward me and pulls open her dresser. A hand brushes up her stomach and over a breast as she pulls a fresh pair of panties from her drawer. Just the way she moves is enough to make my breathing erratic.

  I’m hard as stone for her.

  She straightens the lace over an ass that is a true masterpiece. I know from experience those globes are perfect handles as I drive myself into her to the root. She tugs a T-shirt over her head and I fight to resume breathing. I want to drag my fingers over her perfect C-cups. I want all that silky skin pressed against mine.

  When she starts toward me, I close my eyes in earnest. The mattress next to my hip depresses and I brace myself for the loaded gun of her touch. I realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation when it doesn’t come right away. Finally, it does; the faintest brush of her fingers through my hair. Electricity crackles under my skin and I swallow the groan it tries to force out of me. Her fingertips trail like a whisper across my cheek, down my neck and over my pec. I can’t stop the shudder when her forefinger circles my nipple. Her fingers trail lower and she gently pries the tape loose and peels back the bandages.

  About halfway through, I pretend to wake up. I squint up at her, wishing more than anything she’d untie my hands so I could demonstrate to her how much better I can satisfy her than the asshole she just fucked.