by Jen Talty
Josh sat at the picnic table with Tristan and his boss, Jared Blake.
Tristan examined Delaney’s phone while he used a special device to help them decipher if they had manipulated the phone to track Delaney, or if they were just using the technology off the phone itself. “We sent the phone case to the lab.”
Josh swallowed. It was entirely possible he hadn’t deleted all the files. “This could be embarrassing.”
“When I first started dating my wife, she had a stalker, and he hid in the bushes at our home and took pictures. It’s embarrassing, but there are worse things.” Jared had to be the best Trooper that Josh had ever worked under. Jared ran a tight ship and demanded the highest results from everyone in his station, but he also had an enormous heart, and every Trooper under his command was treated like family. “I told the techs to look for a tracking device. If there is a recording, you’ll be the first to see it and decide if it has relevance.”
“Wonderful.” Josh looked over his shoulder. Delaney sat on the dock, back to him, feet dangling in the water, her long, blond hair pulled up in a braid and twisted around in a clip. She’d been quiet most of the evening, only speaking when spoken to. “I’m sorry I put you all in the middle of this mess.”
“We’ve all had our share of messes,” Jared said, “and when you first transferred here, we both knew something like this could happen when Craypo got out.”
“I honestly didn’t expect it to come in the form of a beautiful woman,” Josh said. “Craypo’s plan was almost genius. If she could have somehow proved I beat her, and I was convicted, I wouldn’t last five minutes in jail.”
“It would have been difficult to prove,” Tristan said, “but it didn’t happen, so no point in pondering it anymore.” He set the phone on the table. “Once you power the phone back on, it will only take a few minutes to track your location. I’m off at midnight. We’re going to put a boat at Glen Island for the night, just in case.”
“Good to know.” Josh caught Delaney’s gaze when she glanced over her shoulder. Her bruised cheek glowed under the night sky. Had he not used the bathroom before heading back down with her phone, he would never have seen her attackers dragging her behind the Dumpster. He blinked, forcing the images out of his mind.
“I called your old boss,” Jared said. “He contacted Craypo’s parole officer, and Craypo’s been following all the rules. Model citizen.”
“Knowing Craypo the way I do,” Josh said, “he’s already set in motion another plan. He’s methodical, which is bad, because he worst-cases everything. Also, his plans usually have phases that account for possible failures.”
“How long were you undercover in Craypo’s organization?” Tristan asked.
“One very long year.” Josh ran a hand across his face. “It took me three months to get deep inside, then six months to get any real evidence on him, but not enough to take him down. That was until Nicki, his wife, started feeding me intel, but that was a set-up I didn’t see coming.”
“Don’t start blaming yourself again,” Jared said. “I read all the reports before I agreed to take you in my station. It wasn’t your fault.”
“My mother always said I was a sucker for a damsel in distress.” Josh eyed a boat slowing as it approached the island. Three young children were perched on the bow, so he decided it was a non-threat.
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” Tristan said.
“It is when one pumps a few bullets into your chest, and the other records you in bed and—”
“That does take a pair,” Tristan said. “Might want to sleep with one eye open tonight.”
“Stacey said that Delaney was pretty shaken up this morning and believes, based on her interview, that she knew very little of what was going on, or why. That said, Stacey doesn’t trust Delaney as far as she can spit,” Jared added.
“I don’t think Delaney saw the attack coming, much less knew about it,” Josh admitted, “but Craypo’s plans are always layered, and often one player doesn’t know what the other one is doing, or that they are even being played. Also, remember that he likes to fuck with people until he has them so paranoid or delusional that they beg him to end their suffering.”
“You think she’s still part of whatever plan Craypo has?” Tristan asked.
“After what I went through with Nicki”—Josh rubbed the scars on his shoulder—“I have to be more than suspicious, but it doesn’t mean she knows she’s part of any plan.”
“Best to be suspicious at this point,” Jared said. “So, what do you plan on doing?”
Josh glanced toward Delaney, still on the dock, feet dangling in the water. “I want to use today and tomorrow to break her.”
“It’s supposed to rain all day,” Tristan said.
“Puts us in a two-man tent with plenty of time for me to question her without any distractions. By tomorrow night, I should know if she’s part of Craypo’s organization, or simply collateral damage,” Josh said. “Luke is looking into her life.”
“That’s a smart move,” Jared said. “I’ve got to play this by the book, so feel free to leave anything out that might put me in a compromising situation. Stay safe tonight, and check in with me regularly, you hear?”
Josh stood, shaking both men’s hands. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” He watched as both men strolled down to the dock. Delaney rose and exchanged words with Jared and Tristan. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets as Jared flicked on the patrol boat lights and eased from the dock.
“They don’t like me,” she said.
“Can you blame them?”
“I guess not.” She stood a few feet to his left, staring at the tent. “What do we do now?”
“We get ready for bed.” He handed her a small bag. “I think you’ll find everything you need in that. I’ve got a bucket of water over there.” He pointed tin container by the fire pit. “Use that to wash your face, then put some in a small cup to brush your teeth.”
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “I’m not a small child.”
“But you’ve never been camping before.”
“True,” she said.
“When you’re done, we’ll walk to the outhouse together.”
“Gross,” she muttered.
He watched her as she went through the motions of cleaning up for bed. The anger and rage she’d shown after finding out her brother wasn’t being held hostage made Josh want to believe she had no more secrets. That her only transgression had been to seduce him because she honestly believed her brother’s life had been threatened.
That was certainly forgivable.
They took turns using the outhouse, something she didn’t like much, since she went in plugging her nose and came out with scowl, still holding her nostrils. Well, no one liked an outhouse, but such was life when you went camping.
As they walked back along the short trail from the outhouse to their campsite, he noticed heavy clouds rolling in with the warm breeze. Thick moisture filled the air.
“Are we going to be safe here?” she asked as she climbed into the tent on her hands and knees, giving him a nice view of her tight ass.
He blinked. “There’s a patrol boat parked not too far from here. We should be fine.”
“’Should be’ is the part I’m worried about.”
He paused for a moment, holding the flap of the tent open, shining the light inside. “Did Stacey pack you something to sleep in?”
“I think so,” Delaney said.
“I’ll wait out here until you’re done changing.”
Once she took the light, he turned his back and mentally berated himself. It was one thing to be attracted to a woman you weren’t sure you could trust, but to still have the hots for a girl who betrayed you? There was something seriously wrong with his taste in women.
“Okay, I’m done,” she said.
The tent was smaller than he thought, but it would protect them from the rain, and he kept telling himself the tight q
uarters would force her to tell him everything, if there was more to tell. As he sat on top of his sleeping bag, he stared at the blond beauty wearing a white tank top and…whatever else was covered by the sleeping bag.
“Mind if I keep the light on?” he asked. “I have some things to do on my iPad.”
“It’s fine.” She rolled to her side, her back to him, hugging a small pillow.
He tried to focus on the iPad screen, but it proved impossible, especially with the way Delaney tossed, letting out a high-pitched sigh with each turn. Quickly, Josh stripped down to his boxers and slid inside the sleeping bag, before flipping the electric lamp off.
“Does it have a dimmer?” Delaney asked with a panic-stricken voice.
“It does.” After dimming the light, he rolled to his side and placed his hand on the nape of her neck.
She jumped. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to help you settle down and relax.” His fingers danced across the skin on her neck, occasionally massaging. “My mother used to do this to me when I was a little boy and couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Did it work?”
“Mostly,” he said. “She would do this and tell me stories about my dad.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Things that would make me feel like I knew him.” He would listen to his mother talk for hours about his dad and his parents’ life together, and how excited his father had been when they found out they were finally going to have a child. For the majority of Josh’s childhood, the stories worked, making him feel like he actually knew his father. The photographs. The videos. It all gave him the knowledge of a father. But as he grew older, it often saddened him that his father was two-dimensional, and that his memories were not his own.
“Will you tell me one?”
Once his mother had died, he held onto the stories tighter, because they were her memories, and she’d loved his dad with all that she was until the day she died...and Josh loved his mother. She was his rock. His world. “My parents were high school sweethearts,” he said.
“That’s so cute.”
Josh laughed. “My mom dumped my dad to spend a year in Europe. She said she never once looked back, nor thought of my dad at all during her year abroad. Didn’t even try to find him when she came home and went to college.”
Josh propped himself up on his elbow and stared at his fingers, tickling up and down her arms, across her shoulders and neck, and wondering why he couldn’t just roll over, close his eyes, and pray for sleep. “Right after my dad graduated from the State Police Academy, a friend of his asked him to be his best man. The maid of honor was my mom. That had been the first time they’d seen each other in five years, and my mom said the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew she loved him. He, on the other hand, was dating someone else. My mom, being the woman she was, didn’t act on her feelings or even tell my father she had any. Just said ‘Hello, good to see you,’ and that was it.”
“Was the other woman at the wedding?”
“She was,” Josh said. “Three days after the wedding, my dad shows up at my mom’s apartment with an engagement ring, telling her he’d never stopped loving her and that this time, he wasn’t going to let her go running off to Europe. They were married three months later.”
“That’s insanely romantic.”
“I suppose it was,” he said. His mother had always told him that when you knew someone was right for you, you just knew it. It didn’t make sense, but you felt it deep in your core. He hadn’t felt that way about Nicki. He loved the idea of Nicki, of saving her and her boys, but he’d never loved her in the way his mother described.
But Delaney? She burrowed all the way into his core, and he was positive it was the kind of feeling his mother described, only he wasn’t willing to accept it. “Do you want me to leave the light on all night?”
“If you don’t mind,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“I noticed last night when you got up to use the bathroom, you left the light on. Are you afraid of the dark?”
“I just prefer a night light.”
“When I lived in the Bronx, there was always some kind of light shining through my window. And the noise of the train rattling the tracks as it whizzed by helped lull me to sleep. Took me a while to get used to the night sounds and how dark it could be up here.”
“I like the crickets.” She turned her head, her eyelids fluttering open. “I’m scared.”
His breath hitched. “Of what?”
“Of everything. Of what my brother might be involved in. Of how easily I was manipulated by these people, whoever they are. And I’m afraid of you.”
“Me? I’m trying to protect you, even though you tried to destroy me.”
“Why are you doing that?”
He rolled onto his back, putting one hand behind his head, the other still gently caressing the smooth, silky skin on the back of her hand. “Because no matter who you are to Craypo, he will kill you, and I won’t let that happen on my watch.”
Chapter 7
The roar of the rain pelting against the tent rustled Delaney awake. Or maybe it was the man who had his arm draped around her middle, his hot, moist breath tickling the back of her neck. And of course, she had to pee, which only added to her discomfort. She had no idea how on earth she’d sneak out from under Josh’s grasp without waking him. Not to mention the issue of staying dry, as the outhouse wasn’t all that close.
“I can hear you thinking,” Josh whispered.
“That’s impossible.”
“Maybe. But you’re restless and tense,” he said. “What time is it?” His warm lips brushed against her skin. He didn’t move his arm or his legs, which were tucked up behind hers as if it were normal for them to wake up this way.
“I have no idea. Can’t even tell if it’s light outside.” She did feel safe in his arms, even though she knew he’d never be able to forgive her, much less forget how they met. Had it been a chance meeting, she would have wanted to know him, and she thought he might have felt the same way, too.
“Then go back to sleep.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I need to use the outhouse.”
“That sucks.” He rolled to his other side, giving her the opportunity to scoot out of her sleeping bag and start looking for her shoes. “It’s only five in the morning,” he said.
“Seriously?” She rummaged through the bag Stacey had packed, but there wasn’t anything she could use as an umbrella. “It’s pouring out there.”
“We can use these.” He held out two garbage bags. “Not great, but they should protect us a little.”
“I can go by myself.”
“Well, now that you’ve woken me up, I’ve got to go, too.” He flashed a grin. “Only, I could just sort of hang it out the tent flaps.”
“That’s disgusting,” she muttered.
He laughed. “Put the bag over your head and just run.” He handed her a small flashlight. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Once outside, she didn’t turn back to see if he followed her. Under the pitter-patter of the rain, her bladder screamed in agony, letting her know she didn’t have long before it released its own wrath.
She fumbled with the outhouse door, holding her breath. She couldn’t think of anything grosser than an outhouse. It wasn’t just the smell, either. Making sure her skin didn’t touch the seat, she did her business, but she needed to set the flashlight down, along with her plastic bag, to use the toilet paper. When she straightened her legs, she knocked the flashlight into the hole. It landed somewhere with a wet thud before the tiny bathroom went black.
“Fuck,” she whispered. She hated that word. It almost never came out of her mouth, except for the occasions where she’d managed to do something stupid, like this.
Opening the door a tad, she yelled, “Josh?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I dropped the flashlight, and I can’t find my bag to he
lp stay dry.”
He pulled open the door, and the yellow beam of his light landed on a garbage bag that she hoped was covered in mud, and not something else. “Well, we’ll have to share,” he said. “Where’d you drop—”
“In a place you don’t want to go fishing.”
“Glad I didn’t give you my phone.” He ripped apart the garbage bag, handing her one end. “Come on. Let’s go back to the tent.”
“Don’t you have to—”
“Being a man, and all, I don’t need to use the outhouse, so I’m all good.” He looped one arm around her waist, holding the bag with the other as they power-walked, hips occasionally bumping, back to the tent. He could be attentive and kind, even when she knew he what she’d done to him had been about the cruelest thing another person could do. His thoughtfulness tossed her emotions into a blender.
He bent over, unzipping the tent and holding the flap open. She scooted in backward, kicking off her shoes, before slipping her legs back under the sleeping bag and sitting cross-legged. She watched Josh as he crawled in, his blond hair messy from sleep and damp from the rain, which seemed to come down faster the moment they had gotten back to the campsite. He wore a pair of shorts and no shirt, something she hadn’t noticed when she’d raced to the bathroom.
As he climbed into his own sleeping bag, reaching across his body, she noticed a couple of scars, identical to the ones on his biceps. Without thinking, she reached out and touched one of them. “The bullets went all the way through?”
“A couple did.”
“Who shot you?”
He rolled to his side, propping himself on an elbow, setting up his iPad. “Doesn’t matter. She’s dead.”
“A woman did this?”
He glanced up at her with an arched brow. “You don’t think a woman is capable of trying to kill someone? Funny, coming from you, considering what you had planned for me.”
She had no retort for that statement.
He continued to swipe and tap on his iPad while she sat there, twiddling her thumbs, wishing for a nice, tall cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin.
The wind kicked up, shaking the tent. She shivered, though she wasn’t cold. His silence only added to her confusion, but, it gave her mind room to examine the last couple of years of her life and her brother’s actions, which, she had to admit, seemed odd.
