by Brynne Asher
Being at her side all night has been an experience. I don’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a car ride so much, listening to her blather on about everything. Since we got here, I’ve done everything I could to steer her away from O’Rourke and Whittaker, even though I’ve seen them both watching her.
Focusing on what I need to while being with her has been difficult. Being alert isn’t something I’ve ever had to work at. It’s always come natural—it’s also been a necessity to stay alive. With Addison at my side, I find myself wanting nothing more than to fall into some sort of normal with her. I’ve never had normal, whatever that is. She’s mesmerizing to look at, talk to, and be with. When she reached out for me after I told her about my dad, I’d never experienced a touch like that.
Her simple touch, something that should’ve been insignificant and casual, wasn’t. It was beautiful, weighty, and even healing. Maybe it’s because I know more than I should, that she lost her dad as tragically as I did, but I do know I didn’t want to lose the way she made me feel. If I could’ve held her hand there forever, I would’ve. It felt perfect, right over my heart where I didn’t even know I needed it. Fuck me, but I’ve had a hard time focusing all night because I’m thinking of ways to get her touch back and never lose it.
Yeah, I’ve had to work to keep my focus around Addison Wentworth.
“Vega?” I hear and bite back my scowl. Shit.
Turning, I see an officer I used to work with, but he isn’t an officer anymore. He’s in a suit, it’s easy to see he’s an agent from his earpiece trailing into his suit jacket.
I back up two steps and turn so I can see Addison as I greet him. “Landon.”
“What’re you doing here?” He reaches out to shake my hand and I’m forced to turn away from her to reciprocate.
I’ve found it strange being here after so long. It’s almost surreal after doing what I’ve done for ten years.
“I’m here for work.” My attempt to shift away is cut off when he slaps my opposite shoulder with his other hand. I squeeze his to let go. He’s trying my patience—I don’t have time for small talk. I need to get back to Addison. “I see you’re an agent. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’ve been at it six years. Lots of travel, but it’s good. Where’ve you been?”
“I’ve traveled some in my job too, but I’m back. Able to telecommute, I won’t have to be in the city much.” I start to turn, but he grabs my forearm.
“Wait, I’ve got to show you something.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. I grit my teeth as I have to look at pictures of his wife and kids.
Barely sixty seconds pass before I break into his one-sided conversation. “Sorry, I need to get back to someone. We’ll catch up soon.”
I don’t wait for him to respond and turn to Addison.
Fuck.
One second she was there and the next she’s disappeared. Why I felt the need to be polite, I have no idea, but she’s gone. After doing a quick scan of the room, O’Rourke is gone, too, but Whittaker’s still across the expanse.
Damn it.
Unless she’s in the restroom, which for some reason I doubt she is, there’s not many places she could be. In past administrations, they’d leave the parlors open for people to walk through.
As I advance quickly through the Green Room and half way through the Blue, I hear her voice. I slow my stride to casual when I arrive at the Red and control myself when I see her standing with her back to me, but facing him. Fuck if they aren’t alone.
“There you are,” I calmly call and when I do, she instantly turns to me. Her body is composed but her eyes aren’t. When they settle on me, they flare. I’ve seen fear in a lot of eyes over the last ten years, but nothing like hers. This is different. I don’t know her well, but the look on her face is nothing but pure panic.
I don’t like that expression etched on her beautiful face.
I move to her and when I do, I stop fighting it. With her back to O’Rourke, I tag her around the waist and tug her to me. I barely hear her surprised breath when she looks at me with her big brown eyes full of fear.
Then I pull her into my arms.
*****
Addy –
His lips land on mine like he’s kissed me a million times in the Red Room of the White House. His other arm encircles me, his hand is hot and searing on the bare skin of my back. My body is frantic—I can’t help but whimper. When I do, his tongue dips in and I taste him for the first time. He tastes like my Whitetail Cabernet mixed with something else all his own.
Forgetting where I am or who I’m with, I give in, letting all my anxiety sink into Crew Vega. I wrap an arm around his back still holding my clutch and fist his suit jacket in my other. I tip my head for him, wanting more.
He takes what I give, in a way he’s been fighting an itch, just like me. Our kiss intensifies when he drops his hand from my waist to my ass, gripping me over my dress. He kisses me fiercely, possessing me, and the moment. My body, which was chilled just moments ago, warms all over. He deepens our embrace, arching my back while holding me tight, letting his lips linger on mine. As his kiss slows, his arms convulse around me, causing my lariat necklace to bite into the skin of my throat. My eyes barely open when he pulls away and gently kisses the tip of my nose.
Looking intently into my eyes, he murmurs, “You left me, baby. I missed you.”
Even coming down from his kiss, I still caught the meaning of “you left me” and grip him tighter. He told me not to leave him, and now I’m not only confused, but scared out of my mind.
I look up and don’t lie when I respond breathlessly, “I missed you, too.”
“You ready for me to take you home?” His voice comes out soft, his eyes searching my face for an answer.
My hands fist him, no doubt giving away my fear. “Please.”
He gives my ass one more squeeze before dragging his hand to my waist, slightly pulling at the material. Looking up and over my head, he gives Sheldon a bland stare. “I need to get my woman home. I’m sure you can understand how I barely let her out of the house tonight in this dress. If you’ll excuse us, we have a drive.”
Pulling in a deep, calming breath, I smooth my dress with my hands and turn to Sheldon. It’s apparent he’s angry and I try to comprehend all that’s happened, what he knows, and more importantly, what it means. Crew threads his fingers through mine as I muster the words, “Thank you for the tour.”
Sheldon says nothing, but nods tersely.
I hold on tight as Crew Vega saves me from I don’t know what, walking me out of what’s supposed to be the safest home on the planet. Which is strange, because I’ve never felt as unsafe and exposed as I had tonight.
I’m going to have to do something about that the moment I get home. The thought is gut wrenching. At least I have an hour to think on it, plan, and figure out how to make it happen.
Chapter 8 – Disintegrated
Addy –
The brisk walk out of the White House to Crew’s Jag was just enough to calm my body, preparing for the trip home. He held my hand all the way to the car and I let him. I tried not to think about Sheldon, or Crew and his searing kiss that practically swept me off my feet. I tried not thinking about anything besides my next task. And it’s a big one, requiring all the mind space I could manage.
As we left the District, Crew asked if I enjoyed myself. He asked if I was okay. He asked who the man was in the Red Room. Then he asked what we were talking about and more specifically, what he was saying to me. His questions started out bland, but became more and more intense with each one.
Finally, he was agitated when he asked why I left his side when he explicitly told me not to. I looked at him and after giving him multiple non-answers, frowned. “Need I remind you, Crew Vega, it was you who left me standing under the portrait of George Washington.”
This, thankfully, shut him up. His jaw turned hard as he fisted his steering wheel with brute force. At least he quit a
sking questions, leaving me to my thoughts so I could focus and plan.
But as much as I tried, I couldn’t. It was all I could do to concentrate on the dark of night outside my window, barely keeping it together. If I let my mind think about what needed to be done, a weight fell over me that was so substantial, it was dreadful.
I absolutely couldn’t take it. I did everything in my power not to think about Bev and Morris, or Van, Evan, Clara and Maggie. I didn’t think about Mary, or my cows, or the business I’ve come to love and a house that’s slowly become a home. I did everything I could not to think about the countryside that was lonely and secluded, but has become a peaceful and lovely place to be.
It was impossible not to wonder about Crew as he drove me home. I’d barely known him a week, but his mysterious aura couldn’t be ignored, confusing me to no end. I shouldn’t have felt safe with a man I hardly know. I should’ve questioned him as to why he commanded I stay by his side and how he knew about my obsession with Laffy Taffy. I should’ve demanded to know why it feels like he knows me when no one really knows me at all. Especially, most importantly, why he kissed me when he did at the White House.
Because his kiss wasn’t merely a kiss. Crew staked his claim, unrestrained, unable to hold back another second. Damn it if I didn’t like both. A lot. Way more than I should, especially now since I’ll never have it again.
*****
I’m immediately pulled out of my thoughts when Crew hits the gas and I’m jerked back into my seat with the sudden force. Simultaneously, he roughly grabs my thigh, rumbling, “Hang on.”
“What?” I barely get the word out of my mouth when we’re hit from behind. Our bodies jerk forward in our seatbelts, but he must have sped up enough to deflect a lot of the impact since the airbags don’t deploy.
“Fuck me,” Crew mutters, releasing my leg to fist the steering wheel as he quickly changes lanes.
I’ve been in such a fog after what happened in the Red Room, I have to look around to see where we are. We’re far enough out of the metro where the interstate isn’t too busy.
I grab my door and the console to steady myself when Crew changes lanes so quickly, the car jerks dramatically to the left.
“Aren’t you going to stop?” I ask.
Crew, looking intently between the road ahead of us and his mirrors, growls, “We’re not stopping, Addison. That was no accident.”
I turn to look out my side window just in time to see a black sedan veer toward us so sharply, I scream.
“They’re trying to hit us?” I exclaim, but he doesn’t answer. I can’t even think about who’s trying to hit us or why. Because I don’t think it’s us. After tonight, I’m sure it’s me.
Crew must have accelerated again, swerving to the left. When we hit the highway guardrail, sparks fly. Crew speeds around another car where the black sedan can’t keep up and we swiftly cross two lanes to the right across traffic.
“Turn around and get your head down,” Crew demands.
I’m not sure if he’s forgotten how small his car is, but I lean down in my seat as far as I can. We’re racing by cars so quickly—they appear to be at a crawl on the interstate.
“Stay down—I’m getting off.”
Perfectly timed, he changes lanes just in time to exit the highway. I turn and see the black sedan force another car out of their lane, causing it to spin. Another car T-bones it so forcefully, they skid across the highway.
“Oh shit! They crashed. We have to do something.” I turn back to Crew and when I do, he swings his arm out, pinning me to my seat like an iron bar. When I look forward, we’re heading full speed to an intersection off the highway. I scream the second he hits the brakes and cranks the wheel hard to the left.
The rear of Crew’s Jag spins to the right and we fishtail, back and forth, until he punches the gas again and we dart down a two lane highway that’s dark and barren. I turn and barely breathe a sigh of relief before I see headlights careening around the corner after us.
The words, “Oh fuck,” scarcely pass my lips when he guns it again, but the black sedan does, too. Crew’s Jag, which was a smooth and comfortable ride on the way into the city, is proving its image isn’t just for show. It’s handling the hills and valleys like a superstar.
“I told you to turn around and get down, Addison,” he bites out, frustrated.
I pivot back to the front and mutter as my heart goes a mile a minute, “What’s happening?”
“Damn it! Get your head down.” He hits his brakes so hard, my body is thrown forward. I not only feel it, but hear the tires on the road squeal.
We’re yanked to the left and I realize he’s changed lanes. When I look over, he’s hunched as low as he can get, and just in time. Gun shots ring out in the night, and I scream again, hearing one catch the back of Crew’s Jag.
Peeking out my window, I see the sedan zoom past us, trying to slow down.
But Crew’s faster. He doesn’t even come to a complete stop, spinning the back of the car and we turn right, down a dirt road, even darker than the one we were on because the forest’s encompassing it. The second I hear gravel flying, pinging against the car, Crew flips his lights off. I have no idea how he can see where we’re going with the darkness besieging us.
He takes a left, and then another quick right, down more gravel roads. I turn to look out the rear window between us. Nothing.
Jerking the car one last time, he flips us left into a drive that’s made of merely two tire tracks and quickly maneuvers us into the middle of a field. Just as quickly and deftly as he’s done so far, he turns off his car.
I hadn’t even noticed but all this time, the music continued to play. Jumper by Third Eye Blind breaks through the heavy silence. That is, until Crew bangs the dashboard so hard, I’m sure he broke the controls, right before hitting the steering wheel. With his voice bellowing through his small car, he shouts, “Fuck!”
My chest is heaving—my breaths out of control. I hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’ve got one hand on the window next to me and the other is gripping the console. The weight bearing down on me from this evening’s events are so heavy, I can scarcely keep it at bay. All I see is the dark field in front of us, lit only by the stars.
Just when I close my eyes, praying Crew outran them—whoever they are—I yelp, jerking when I feel a hand on me.
“Shh,” he tries to calm me when he turns my face to his. His eyes roam my features and I realize he’s not breathing hard at all while I’m practically hyperventilating. His voice, so different than just a few seconds ago, comes at me soft and soothing. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I instantly shake my head in his hand. No, nothing is okay. But he doesn’t know that.
His eyes narrow slightly, but his tone stays the same. “Do you know what that was about?”
Probably too quickly, I refute, “No. I’ve no idea.”
He looks at me, assessing me, probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, and quickly. I’ve been nothing but trouble all night. I’m sure he’s regretting the carpool.
Then he slides his hand up and under my jaw and into my hair, pulling my forehead to his lips. Staying there, I have to squeeze my eyes shut when he whispers, “Relax, Addison. I’ll take you home. You’re safe.”
He has no idea what he’s talking about. I squeeze my eyes tighter to keep my tears at bay, breathing deeply to find control.
When he lets me go, I open my eyes. He strangely doesn’t speak about the car chase, being shot at, his Jag being hit, scuffed, or driven to its limits. He says nothing about the Red Room, our kiss, or why he demanded I not leave his side tonight. He simply says, “Let’s get you home.”
I don’t know whether to be confused or relieved. I do know I want this night to be over. For some reason someone is after me, and it has everything to do with my dad.
*****
When Crew’s Jag rolls to a stop at my front door, I waste no time climbing out. My heels are clicking up the st
one steps when I hear him call for me.
“Addison, wait.”
Ignoring him, my hands tremble as I search for my key. When I pull it out of my clutch, trying to steady myself to unlock the door, it’s swiped out of my hand.
I whip around to face him, scarcely steadying my voice. “Give that back.”
He doesn’t say anything, but pulls his hand through his hair and looks at me intently. “Let me come in. We can talk.”
I shake my head, putting space between us until my back hits the door. “I’m tired.”
He moves into me, barely allowing any space between us, and as firm as his hand is on my hip, his voice is just as gentle. “Please. This’s been a crazy night and you’re scared. Let me come in so you’re not by yourself.”
Biting the inside of my lip, I swallow over the lump in my throat, holding myself together. “I’m sorry, not tonight. I’m fine.”
“Addison,” he calls, his voice gravely, coming out as a plea.
I give my head a little shake, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
His eyes slowly close as he drops his head. When he finally opens them, he looks up and to the side, as if he’s thinking. His hand at my hip grips me tighter when he finally looks me in the eyes, shaking his head.
I tense when he leans in, thinking he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. His freshly shaved, smooth face brushes my cheek, sending tingles down my spine. He steps forward, his firm body presses into mine. Inhaling deeply, he breathes into my ear, “I’m sorry I left you. I’ll never do it again. Ever.”
His simple words aren’t only an apology, they’re a vow. I hear it in his whisper so I nod against the side of his face, even though it won’t matter because he won’t have a chance to prove it. He brushes his lips against the sensitive skin under my ear and I have to squeeze my eyes to overcome his touch.
When he pulls away to look at me, he says in a low voice, “I’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
That’s not going to happen. “Okay.”
