JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

  Joss touched her shoulder, returning her smile. Then she stood again, returning to her pacing.

  “Thanks for that,” I said as she passed me.

  She handed me her phone, indicating a text message on the screen.

  Warren’s people were able to get a few fingerprints from the rooftop. They weren’t as careful as they should have been. Should have an identity soon so we’ll know whom we’re fighting.

  “That’s good, right?”

  Joss nodded.

  I studied her face and this horrible thought crossed my mind. I hoped they didn’t figure it out too soon. I wasn’t ready to see Joss go.

  Chapter 7

  Joss

  I went up to my room as soon as we arrived at the house. David had everything covered with cameras and whatnot so well that there was no reason for me to stick around downstairs. I showered, enjoying the heat of the water falling over my head. I stood there much longer than I probably should have, my mind a blank. At least, I wanted it to be. Somehow, though, Carrington kept invading my thoughts.

  He was nothing like the other men I’d known in my life. When I was in the Army, I quickly grew weary of the über-masculine men, who thought they were God’s gift to women. That was part of what drew me to Ash. He wasn’t trying to get into my pants all the time. I wouldn’t have minded if he had, at the time. But that was before, before he became my friend. Before he did the impossible and got justice for my husband and my boy.

  All I ever wanted was a family. When my father died, he left a hole in my life. My mom tried, but she never really got over my father’s death. It was as if she died that day, too; it just took five years and a bottle of pills for it to become a reality. So, when I met Esteban while I was stationed in Texas, I saw an opportunity I needed. There’d been a few dalliances here and there, but never anything serious until Esteban. He believed in family as much as I did. He was ready to settle down in a way most men his age balked at. He was the perfect man—at the perfect time—for me. Neither of us could have imagined how it would end.

  Carrington was a totally different kind of man from both the guys I served with in the Army and Esteban. He was clearly uninterested in a relationship. His focus was that little girl, something I could completely understand. If Isaac had survived…I couldn’t let my thoughts go in that direction. It was too hard. But I could appreciate Carrington’s priorities. But I also got the impression that he was the kind of man who loved hard when he did allow himself the opportunity. That both scared and excited me.

  I found myself wondering about his long missing wife. What did she look like? Was she tall and model-esque, or small like me? Was she dark, one of those beautiful women with black hair and dark eyes? Or was she pale, like me, with blond hair and creamy white skin? Was his focus on McKelty in part because he was still in love with his wife? Did he see her when he looked at his daughter? It wasn’t any of my business, really. But I was curious.

  I closed my eyes and saw the look on his face when McKelty asked me about Kirkland. It almost made me smile. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he was jealous. And that idea sent a spark of pleasure through me like nothing I’d ever felt before. Not that Carrington and I…what? He was a client. I was a professional. How many times had I chastised Kirkland for becoming involved with his targets? But, again, Donovan was about to marry one of his clients—though he’d known her since he was a child—and David had gotten involved with a client, though she wasn’t his client specifically. It was technically Donovan’s case. That hadn’t turned out well. These sorts of relationships were almost doomed before they started. How could two people sustain the excitement that came from a victim-protector relationship? It was impossible.

  But knowing that didn’t make the attraction disappear.

  I hadn’t been attracted to anyone since Esteban. I had simply accepted the fact that I would never have the family I’d so desperately craved since my father died. And I wasn’t interested in the type of thing Kirkland indulged in so often. Sex for the sake of sex wasn’t my thing. So why bother?

  Yet, I wasn’t as dead as I’d thought either. When I looked at Carrington, things happened inside of me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Things I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager…sneaking around with the captain of the football team. I thought those things disappeared with maturity, but maybe I was wrong.

  Why did it have to be Carrington?

  I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off with one of the heavy towels I took from the cabinet. I found myself wondering if Carrington had ever used this particular towel and then that led to thoughts of him standing in that huge bathroom in his master suite, naked in front of the long, wide mirror. I could almost see him, imagine what he’d look like wearing nothing but this towel. And the thought made my thighs press together, my nipples harden, and a blush darken the skin stretched across my high cheekbones.

  I really had to stop.

  I dressed in shorts and a clean t-shirt, crawled into bed, and tried to concentrate on a novel I’d picked up at the mall last week. It was the newest release in a series I’d been reading for years, one I’d been long anticipating. But I couldn’t concentrate. I finally just set it aside and turned out the lights, trying to pretend that I could actually sleep.

  I couldn’t.

  I texted Kirkland instead.

  Can I ask you a question?

  Always, je t’aime.

  I smiled. I loved it when he revealed his roots. There was just something about Cajun French that made my heart flutter.

  Have you ever been able to resist one of your clients?

  How do you mean?

  I mean attraction.

  There was a long moment before the response came.

  A few. Why?

  How did you do it?

  I don’t get involved with the married ones. Too much drama. And there were a couple who were just too high maintenance. I avoid that sort of thing.

  Even when you’re attracted to them?

  Even then. It’s self-preservation.

  I smiled. That was such a Kirkland thing to say.

  How do you turn down someone you’re attracted to?

  Is there something you need to tell me, Joss? Have you finally decided to give me a chance?

  I chuckled, a silent sound that shook the entire length of my body.

  Just like you to think this is about you.

  Seriously. What’s going on?

  I didn’t want to answer that. What would he think of me when I told him I was having sexual feelings for a client? He’d call me a hypocrite. Tell me I was entertaining thoughts that I’d yelled at him over many, many times in the past. And he’d be right. I was a hypocrite.

  Joss?

  I don’t know. Maybe it’s this kid.

  I knew that was going to be tough for you.

  I’m okay. I just...I guess it’s just bringing up a lot of things I thought I’d put behind me.

  Is there anything I can do?

  Again, that was so Kirkland. Everyone thought he was so shallow because of the way he was with women. But, really, he was probably the most loyal friend I could ever want. Even more so than Ash in some ways. He’d gotten me through some dark nights just by simply being there. That was something that seemed really easy but that so few people could accomplish. And I would always love him for that.

  No. But thanks.

  Anytime, je t’aime. You know I’m always here for you.

  I know. Get some sleep.

  You too.

  Easier said than done.

  I put my phone down and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind. But, of course, my thoughts went right to the last place I wanted them to go. Carrington. What was it about him that made it so that I couldn’t get him out of my head?

  Kirkland once told me that I needed to get laid. He said that sex is a physical thing, like taking a jog. Sometimes the body just needed that release of endorphins. I was beginning to think he was right. />
  It had been a long time.

  I laughed at myself. And then sleep slowly settled over me.

  But then the dreams came.

  Chapter 8

  Carrington

  I heard the snap of her door closing. I wasn’t listening intentionally, but the house was so quiet that it was hard to miss. I told myself I should give her space, but then I reasoned that she wouldn’t leave her room if she didn’t want company. If she wanted to be alone, she could just remain locked up in that room, as she’d done all evening. I’d almost knocked on her door after McKelty went to bed. I stood outside the door like some sort of fool, standing in the hallway of my own house, afraid to disturb a woman who was here at my request. I still felt stupid. Yet, I never did bring myself to knock.

  I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans that were discarded over the back of a chair. I crossed the hall and peeked in on McKelty before going downstairs. I thought she might be in the kitchen, looking for something to eat again. There was a bean and rice casserole in the freezer that I’d been looking forward to eating. I thought I might warm that up for us. But the kitchen was deserted when I got there.

  I backtracked, walking slowly through the house. I should have seen her when I passed by the first time, but she hadn’t turned on any lights when she slipped out onto the back deck. As usual, she had her phone in her hands, but she didn’t seem to be talking to anyone.

  “Having trouble sleeping?”

  She jumped a little, her shoulders stiffening. She reached up and rubbed her cheeks almost as if she was…hell! Did I interrupt a crying jag?

  She turned before I could say anything, her head lowered, and her hair falling over her face. I couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t read the expression on her face. She started to walk past me back into the house, but I grabbed her arm before I even knew I was going to move.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, her head still lowered.

  “It must be hard, being around all those kids all day long.”

  She looked up at me then, her eyes wide with surprise. And then those beautiful eyes narrowed as she put two and two together, figuring out what I was referring to. She touched my chest lightly with the tip of her index finger and then a questioning gesture.

  How did I know?

  “There are articles on the internet. It wasn’t hard to find.”

  She shook her head. Another questioning gesture.

  “I was just curious.”

  She stomped her foot, then typed something into her phone. I didn’t have my phone with me, so she held it up so I could read her words from her phone.

  Who told you?

  “No one,” I said, stretching the truth a little. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Ash had only told me where to look, not what to look for.

  She studied me, her eyes still narrowed. She was clearly angry. She made a puffing noise, then pulled away from me and headed to the door.

  I couldn’t let her go.

  I followed her and grabbed her arm again just as she reached the door, turning her so that she was pressed against the glass of the French door, her body pinned between it and me. We were so close I could smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the heat of her breath against my chest.

  “Why are you so angry?”

  She glared up at me, but I had her arms pinned so that she couldn’t use her phone.

  “Don’t you think I had a right to know if your decision not to speak could endanger my daughter? You are here, after all, to keep her safe.”

  She jerked her arm, but she only had so much movement because of the way I was holding her. However, the expressions dancing over her face and in her eyes told me just as much as those gestures might have done.

  “I’ve never had to trust so many strangers with my daughter’s life before. I’ve never had a stranger living in my house before. And all these damn cameras…”

  I couldn’t see the cameras, but just knowing they were there drove me crazy. I was afraid to do just about anything. What if someone saw something they didn’t like and called the police? I’ve heard horror stories of worse things happening to single fathers of little girls. How did I know I could trust whoever was on the other end of those video feeds? How did I know he wasn’t paying more attention to my daughter and me than the potential threat looming beyond these four walls?

  Her expression softened. She nodded slowly, her eyes darting to a spot just above us in the eaves of the house’s trim. And then she focused on me again, tugging at her arm until I let it go. I let both her arms go, thinking she was going to walk away from me again. Instead, she pressed her hand to the center of my chest.

  I touched her hip, instantly aroused by the soft material of her shorts that seemed to bunch beneath my touch. Her upper thigh was tan and strong, the thigh of a slender woman who’s not a stranger to physical activity. My fingertips brushed the silky skin there, as I braced myself with my other arm over her head, and I leaned close, my lips close enough to hers that I could almost taste her kiss. I so wanted to taste that kiss.

  I slid my hand slowly down over her thigh then around to the back of her leg, my hand moving up under the flimsy material of her shorts until the curve of her ass was resting in my palm. She watched me, so many things dancing through her eyes that I couldn’t quite catch it all. But she wasn’t pulling away. In fact, her hand slid up the length of my chest, her fingers slipping over my throat, my pounding pulse beating against her palm.

  I touched my forehead to hers, my hand sliding deeper under her shorts. My fingers brushed the moist folds of her outer lips, the little sigh slipping from her lips encouraging them to move closer, to touch more. Our lips brushed, and she raised her head, reaching for me. But then her phone buzzed in her hand and she stiffened.

  It was a text message, but I couldn’t see what it said. But whatever it said made her pull away, a blush burning on her cheeks. She gestured toward the house, then disappeared, rushing across the sitting room and disappearing up the stairs.

  I stood there for a long time, my heart pounding.

  That was the closest I’d been to a woman in a long time. Years, in fact.

  I wanted to chase after her. I wanted to pick her up and throw her onto my bed, show her what a real man could do with a woman as beautiful and perfect as she was. I wanted to…there were so many things I wanted to do to her. I wanted to taste her, to feel her move beneath my body, to hear her moan in pleasure. I wanted to see her face twisted in pleasure, wanted to see what it looked like when a woman that completely in-charge looked like when she finally lost control. As crude as it might sound, I wanted to see her cum over and over again. And then I wanted to lose control myself and fill her with life, with the life she was denying herself.

  How fucked up was that? I barely knew her, yet I felt like I’d known her all my life. Maybe it was because I knew now that we had more in common than she could ever imagine. We were both destroyed by the deaths of people we loved. If only she knew what I’d done.

  She’d probably go running for the hills if she knew.

  Chapter 9

  Joss

  Should I be jealous?

  I knew Kirkland meant it as a joke, but the fact that he was watching, that he and David were standing there at David’s workstation, watching me and Carrington doing…God, how could I let myself get into such a situation?

  I took the stairs two at a time, rushing up to the guest room I was using, leaning against the door as I tried to catch my breath. What the hell was I thinking? What was I doing? Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I went into the bathroom and closed the door, hiding there from the cameras that had never bothered me before, but were suddenly everywhere, suddenly so invasive.

  I couldn’t breathe. Panic was building in my chest like a crushing force. I dropped to my knees, tears rushing down my cheeks. I felt my phone vibrate, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t be this person. I couldn’t be attracted to a client; I couldn’t
kiss him and pretend it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t turn against my marriage vows as if they no longer mattered.

  I thought of Esteban, of the taste of his kiss. It had been so long; the memory was beginning to fade. Yet, I could still remember his touch, could still remember the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled at me.

  “It’ll just take ten minutes, mi amor,” he’d said. “You won’t even have time to stick one toe in the bath water.”

  He’d taken the baby with him that night so that I could have a few minutes. I wanted to take a long bath, something I’d grown to love while I was pregnant, but hadn’t had the time to do since Isaac was born. And Esteban knew that. He had to run up to the school to pick up some papers he’d forgotten to bring home. He needed to grade some essays his seniors had done last week and he’d been putting off, but he forgot them on his desk. Ten minutes. I was so into the hot water and the silky bubbles that I didn’t even realize he was late until I stepped out of the tub and stuck my head out the door, calling for him. And he didn’t answer.

  Then the police lights were in the front yard, flashing off the dark living room walls.

  “There’s been an accident, Mrs. Hernandez. I’m sorry to tell you…”

  I sat at the hospital for hours that night, waiting. Waiting for Isaac to come out of surgery, waiting for the doctors to sign Esteban’s death certificate. Waiting for Esteban’s mother to answer the phone. Waiting to see his body, cleaned, but naked, on the morgue table.

  Waiting. It seems like all I’ve done since that night was wait.

  And now…I wanted to stop waiting. But how could I? That would mean leaving my family behind me, and I wasn’t sure I could do that.

  I buried my face against my knees, the tears dripping over my legs, leaving a long strip of wetness. My phone kept vibrating. Every few seconds it would vibrate. I ignored it.

  There was only so much of Kirkland I could take tonight.

  I eventually fell asleep, sleeping there on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. The alarm on my phone woke me a little before six. I got up and stared at myself in the mirror, at the red puffy eyes that looked back at me. It reminded me of the few days after their funerals…when I managed to get out of bed. My eyes were always so swollen then that it looked like I’d been beaten. I felt like I had been. But it didn’t matter to me then. I’d made a decision, I just hadn’t found the means to follow through. But I’d made the choice, and the moment the person responsible for their deaths was punished, I was going to go.