Danger and Desire: A Romantic Suspense Anthology

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “You’re a killer.” If she’d had the fortitude to walk away, Roxana would’ve left Jason standing in the lady’s slippers. Her mind spun. Had she been an accessory to murder and hadn’t realized it? God, she wouldn’t do well in prison.

  “I’m a watcher.”

  Chapter 6

  Roxana didn’t say a word and pulled back. Jason would let her take all the time she needed until she saw that he was still the man she’d fallen in love with—only with a different job. Hell, if he’d known the accountant part had such significance to her… “If it helps, I am a registered CPA.”

  Roxana’s hand slapped his face before he realized his accounting prowess didn’t help. The sting was worse than any hit he’d taken over the years. Jason waited in case she wanted to give him another hit. When she didn’t, he worked his jaw and ran his hand over the cheek.

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t care.”

  Okay, hindsight, he could see how he’d missed her point. The woman could handle anything. She’d proven that time and time again with personal tragedy, but he wasn’t sure how to explain everything about his job. At least, not how it intersected with the time that she was the job.

  Jason inspected the location she’d chosen. “Good spot.”

  “Why are you limping?” she asked.

  Jason had blamed a filing cabinet that time a bullet grazed his bicep and mentioned a faulty hair dryer after a run-in with a fire-shooting drone. He regretted every lie he’d told to cover up an injury. “I fell down a hill and wedged it between rocks.”

  Sympathy parted Roxana’s lips for a split second before she hardened. “You weren’t in Oklahoma.”

  He shook his head. “Southeast Kentucky.”

  “Why?”

  “I quit my job this morning.” He laughed, then sighed. “And set off this chain of events.”

  “Yeah, well. Someone pointed a gun at me. A little more precarious than tripping down a hill.”

  Jason licked his bottom lip to quell his smile. “Entirely my fault.”

  She scowled.

  “Hindsight’s kicking my ass right now. There’s a lot I should’ve done differently. Starting with what I do—did—for a living.”

  “Lucky me,” she snapped. “I don’t feel guilty about a damn thing.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t.”

  She smacked her leg. “Stupid mosquito.”

  “Let’s get in the car.” He sidestepped to shift their direction. “Away from the mosquitoes.” Roxana didn’t budge. He’d never minded her stubborn streak before, oddly enough finding her resolve a quality, but exhaustion and pain needled his patience. “And food, babe. You hungry?”

  The way her eyes brightened at the possibility of a meal was a telltale sign that his woman was ravenous, but she held her chin high, showing off a streak of dirt. “I’m more pissed than hungry.”

  Damn if he didn’t like when she stuck to her guns, but they couldn’t stay in the park all night. He went in for the kill. “What about a hot shower while we wait for delivery?”

  “Last time I checked, there were two psychos in my house with a gun.”

  “More guns in your house than the one you saw,” he muttered under his breath, still coaxing her from the bushes.

  Roxana cursed. “Of course there are—and when did you pick up cross-stitching? Any covert doilies I don’t know about?”

  He eased them toward his truck. “Ever heard of a website called Etsy?”

  She glared. “You can’t be serious?”

  Jason shrugged. “What? You can get custom-made anything from Etsy.”

  “What reality am I living in?” Roxana pressed her temples but followed.

  He offered a hand for the go-bag hanging off her shoulder, and they slowly made their way down the hill. He wasn’t sure that her silent compliance meant she’d forgiven him, but he’d take a sliver of progress.

  “If we’re not headed to my house… then where?” she asked.

  “Chances are, Spiker and Vanka left when they realized you were long gone, but we’ll get a hotel room and figure out what our game plan is.”

  Roxana stepped in front of him. “Jason, there is no our game plan. Not for me. The only thing I plan to do is wash every part of my body and eat until I’m ready to pass out.” Her eyebrows tightened. “Alone.”

  “You’re calling the shots tonight.” He took her wrist and ushered her again. “But I need to get the hell off my ankle. Can we get a move on?”

  She slapped his hand. “No—”

  “Damn it, Roxana. I fucked up. I get it. All right? My ankle’s the size of a cannon ball. My drunk boss tried to shoot me, and the woman who I want to marry hates my fucking guts.” His molars gnashed, and Jason turned away, holding a deep breath until he was sure that he could check his exhausted irritation. “It’s been a shit day, and I want to get into the damn truck.”

  Roxana stepped closer. He wasn’t sure which part of his tirade made Roxana do so, but as cicadas sang, they walked to his truck together and stopped at the passenger door. He opened it. Roxana quietly thanked him, and she shut her in as the cicadas buzzing, clicking song reached the peak of its crescendo.

  Jason rounded the front of his truck with more of a limp than he’d have liked but savored their last few seconds of normalcy. Pain radiated up his leg when he climbed into the driver’s seat. He cleared his throat and turned the engine over. The headlights illuminated the area where Roxana had taken cover. He’d never set foot on the park trails again without remembering what she’d been through today. “You did a hell of a job today.”

  Roxana snorted. “I hit my head.”

  “I’ll get an ice pack with dinner.” He took his foot off the gas and let the truck ease along the one-way road out of the park.

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  Jason stayed mum until they pulled onto a street. He hooked a right-hand turn from the protective enclave of beautiful house onto a main drag of bars with neon signs and bustling sidewalks. Late summer was the time of year when college kids returned to town and locals realized the days were growing shorter. “Busy for a Monday night.”

  Roxana kept her gaze on the changing landscape along the sidewalk. “How’s your ankle?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Didn’t sound fine when you climbed in.”

  “Guess the ibuprofen’s wearing off.” An Uber driver rode their brakes then stopped traffic when a man lifted his arm and stepped off the curb, three buddies in tow. Jason drummed the steering wheel, patience dwindling with every second the four men wasted getting into their vehicle.

  Roxana glanced over. “How did you know about the tunnel?”

  “Hagan.” Jason didn’t want to be stuck in traffic for this conversation.

  “How about that.” She smacked her lips together. “Didn’t realize how often you two must chat.”

  “We talk.” He maneuvered around the Uber. “Business and things.”

  “He called me this morning.”

  “Yup. Me too.”

  “He’s known all along about you?”

  Jason wasn’t sure if her question was more angry or distrustful, not that it would make a difference for how he responded. He eased off the gas as a group of girls teetered across the street in shoes that made them walk like baby gazelles. “Yeah.”

  “What else does he know about your secret life that I don’t?”

  “Babe, it’s not a secret—”

  Roxana slammed her fist against the door. “What the hell does Hagan know?”

  “Can we have this conversation at the hotel?”

  “More bad news? Fantastic.”

  His grip flexed on the steering wheel. “You won’t like it.”

  “That fits with today’s theme,” she added. “And I’d rather know now.”

  Where she could jump out of his truck and never look back. Jason didn’t take his eyes off traffic.

  “So help me God,” Roxana whispered. “If you don’t start t
alking—”

  “Gimme a second to think of the best way to—”

  She scoffed. “Massage the truth? No.”

  Jason checked his mirrors and glanced at her waiting expression. “A few years ago, Hagan had some concerns.”

  “What kind of concerns?” she asked.

  “Safety.” He glanced over again and hated the apprehensive lines that tightened around her eyes.

  “Who’s safety?”

  “Yours,” he admitted, wishing there were an easy way to bring up awful memories on an already shitty day. “No one knew much about the organization responsible for Dylan’s death.”

  “They do now,” she whispered as if the conversation had thrown her straight into the past.

  He made a left-hand turn toward downtown but pulled over at the first spot available. No matter how mad she was, he wouldn’t let their problem interfere with giving her the support she’d need. “But not leading up to the trial.”

  Unblinking, she nodded and kept her eyes focused out the windshield.

  “Hagan contracted a firm to keep an eye on you and your mom. He needed a—”

  Roxana’s head snapped to the side. “Watcher.”

  “More or less.”

  “He paid you,” she hissed, “to date me? And you did?”

  “No—”

  “Is that what you do? Date women with overprotective assholes in their lives?”

  “Damn it, Roxana. No. Listen.”

  “I didn’t even know you two knew each other,” she continued. “Once again, I’m the last to know.”

  “We didn’t. Babe, listen.”

  “I don’t want to listen!”

  Jason was half-sure Roxana was ready to throw open the door and jump from his truck. “I met you before I had the assignment.”

  “As if that makes anything better. Did we sleep together while you were on the clock? Sex and a paycheck. Sounds like a cush job.”

  The accusation was obvious, but he hadn’t known it’d slice into his gut when she lobbed it at him like a Molotov cocktail. His grip tightened on the steering wheel until pinpricks of pain needled his palm. Blood rushed in his ears, and Jason pulled the truck onto the road again.

  Roxana ranted and raved. He didn’t listen as she dissected every happy fuckin’ memory under the light of her newfound knowledge. His molars clenched as they hit green light after green light. When a yellow light came, he hit the brakes before it turned red and faced her. “I told you this wasn’t a conversation for the damn road.”

  “Why not?” She threw her arms out. “At least nothing happened, right? I was clueless, but I was safe.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Wrong, what?” Exasperation poured out of her. “What the hell happened?”

  He glanced over and held Roxana’s eyes. “I fell in love with you.”

  That wasn’t a fair way to end a fight, but Roxana didn’t trust her voice. Her heart lodged into her throat. Too many omissions and lies made oxygen hard to breathe. She’d known from the first day she met him that he was the man she wanted to marry, though they hadn’t said “I love you” for almost a year.

  She wanted to ask Jason questions and map out the timeline. When had they met? What did he feel? Did watchers have direct deposit? How much had his time with her been worth?

  And when she got her hands on Hagan? She’d kill him too. Damn her brother. They’d been struggling for money, and that was what he chose to waste his paycheck on? Her stomach turned. Hagan had approved of Jason’s very personal relationship while paying for his time? Did that make her brother a pimp? If so, then that made her… She shuddered and blocked ugly thoughts from mind. Even so, that didn’t keep her from feeling foolish.

  The truck pulled up to a posh hotel. A uniformed man approached the driver’s door to tell them they couldn’t park there. Jason shifted into park and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Where are we?” Roxana asked even though she knew the location and could clearly read the signage at The Brown Hotel.

  “We’re at a hotel.” He unbuckled and nodded for her to do the same. “I promised you a hot shower and food delivered to your door.”

  They couldn’t afford a place like this even if it clocked in as the ultimate place to grovel. They weren’t dressed for a hotel like this. Actually, they probably had rules against the way she and Jason looked. “We can’t go in there.”

  “We can.”

  Roxana shook her head, scared he might be serious. One night’s worth of room service had to be the cost of her monthly mortgage. That wasn’t worth it—especially when she was positive that makeup sex wasn’t on the evening’s activity list. “We’ll go to Denny’s.”

  “Not for the conversations we’re going to have.” He gestured toward her seatbelt.

  “Denny’s has pancakes.”

  “Babe—”

  “Five different flavors of syrup.” Panic clouded her thoughts. What if they were arrested when they walked into the lobby? She didn’t know what for. Maybe they were too dirty. She was definitely too smelly, and she’d worked so hard to dig out of financial problems to simply waltz into this hotel.

  Jason clasped his hand over her thigh and squeezed. “Take a breath.”

  She couldn’t. Didn’t he notice she was seconds away from a panic attack in front of The Brown?

  He squeezed her leg again and slid the pad of his thumb over her skin. “You’re okay, Roxana. I promise.”

  She shook her head.

  His hand caught her chin, and Jason held her gaze until she took a deep breath, quietly urging to let it out and pull in another one. Panic attacks rarely surfaced when he was at her side, talking her through the motions, seeing her through until the tsunami of worries subsided. He’d never triggered an attack before though.

  Roxana pulled away. “I’m fine.” At least, she was almost fine. She took another breath without his fortifying touch then unbuckled.

  “Stay here for a second.” Jason hopped out and spoke to the uniformed man waiting an arm’s length from her door. The man stepped back and Jason took his place, opening the passenger door and helping Roxana out.

  Nervous, she wanted to hide her dirty clothes and scraped body. It was late but people would still see her. They’d know she didn’t belong there.

  “It’ll be okay.” Jason’s hand lingered on hers. “Ready?”

  He’d asked in that way where he already knew the answer. She wanted to go inside, shower, and eat. And he’d asked in that tone that she’d always trusted. Roxana nodded and hid the part of her soul aching for faith in him again.

  At the reception desk, Jason produced identification and a credit card under the name Roland Crosby. They checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Crosby. Between the fake names and the hotel’s sweeping two-story marbled lobby, Roxana didn’t lack for new experiences to gawk over. But throw in hunger and exhaustion, and she was surprised she made it to their floor without falling over, completely gob-smacked.

  Then Jason opened their hotel room door.

  “Oh my God.” It wasn’t just a hotel room. It was a suite. But even that didn’t do justice to the opulent oasis. She stepped in and realized an interior designer must have planned every square inch of the room. The wallpaper had a gold sheen and velvety texture, and she swore she could see her reflection in the mahogany furniture. “I cannot believe it took people trying to kill us with guns for you to bring me to this place.”

  He tossed their room keys and his wallet on a tiny table. “What are you hungry for?”

  “Everything.” She kicked off her shoes and let the giant bed in the adjacent room pull her close. Roxana hated to press her dirty fingers onto the fluffy white comforter, but she couldn’t help it. The sheets were the softest, most delicious thing she might ever crawl into.

  “I’ll have new clothes brought up for you.” Jason walked toward a stately desk and reached for the phone. “The shower’s all yours.”

  In what world were they living? The answer wasn’t o
ne that she was ready to accept. She walked into the bathroom, which was bigger than her kitchen. White robes and thick towels hung by the wall-to-ceiling glass enclosure for the shower that looked more like a sauna. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to welcome a world of watchers, but since she didn’t have a choice, she’d take advantage of their shower.

  Chapter 7

  Acceptance was easier said than done. Roxana stripped her dirty clothes into a pile of broken dreams. The stains would wash out of her shorts. After a load of laundry, she wouldn’t be able to tell which shirt and shorts she’d worn when everything she’d known about the future disappeared.

  Roxana couldn’t look at them anymore. She caught her naked reflection in the mirror. Stripped down, safe and alone, she didn’t know how the woman who faced her had been oblivious or why the men she loved and trusted thought she was so weak. Worrying wasn’t a sign of weakness. Her yearning for predictability wasn’t a flaw. Yet, she’d been punished for it with lies.

  Where did that leave them? Nowhere. Alone on separate paths that shouldn’t have converged. A sob caught in her throat. Tears came whenever she lost someone, but they never helped. Only time healed wounds to the soul. Breaking her life from Jason’s, from their fused world and plans they’d built together, would shatter her heart. That she would walk away was unfathomable. But wasn’t that the decision she had to make?

  Anguish welled in her eyes, and she couldn’t face her reflection anymore. Roxana opened the glass shower door, adjusted the water, and eased onto the marble bench opposite the cascading shower. Steam curled and fogged the enclosure. She straightened her legs until the water splashed over her lavender toenail polish.

  This was what she needed, to do absolutely nothing. Roxana listened to the splash of the water on the marble floor and let the steam roll over her muscles. Her eyes closed. The tension in her face unknotted. Her neck and shoulder unclenched as if every muscular fiber had gone numb.

  “Food’s here,” Jason called, miles away.