“So, who’d you piss off to be sequestered in the basement with the criminals?”
He ignores my comment and pulls up several video feeds on the large monitor mounted on the wall. I can only assume that the man in the photo on Maitlin’s phone is Neil. We watch as several minutes of feed play. But when I see the smug guy from her photo being led into the building by two uniformed officers with his hands cuffed behind his back, I know it has to be him. Mason freezes the video and zooms in on his face.
“That’s him.”
He’s tall, but more than a few inches shorter than my six feet six height, and he’s a bit lean, with a head of well-groomed, sandy blond hair, a polar opposite of me. Along his right cheek is a long scratch. I allow myself to smile, knowing that my girl wasn’t going down without a fight.
“You didn’t bring him in?” I ask, not noticing him in the first video of the booking.
“No, I stayed with Maitlin until her roommate came home.”
My hands tighten around the leather arms of the chair I'm currently sitting in. I let go when I hear a creak as the metal fatigues under strain. The thought of him comforting her still has my possessive nature wanting to rip him limb from limb, no matter what my brain says about being glad he was there at all.
I get up and walk to the monitor with the video paused as Neil looks into the camera. “Who are these two?” I tap the screen. “Can I speak to them? Are they…”I pause and take stock of my surroundings and the video surveillance camera around the room. I don’t want to say human if the walls that have eyes also have ears.
I hear the sigh Mason lets out as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “No, you can’t speak to them, and yes, they are. You shouldn’t even be watching these surveillance videos. Do you think I’m going to let you talk to the booking officers?”
“I think if they have information about who he called or what he was saying while being arrested. It could play in our favor in helping us figure out where he is… Detective.”
Mason nods his head and continues the video, fast-forwarding to the approximate time of Neil’s release. We watch bodies move quickly in and out of the front lobby, and the video isn’t the best quality. It’s at least color, but still grainy and not very focused. We speed through and watch as the time stamp at the bottom clicks up. Then I spot a familiar figure.
“Stop,” I demand. “Go back, slowly.” I watch the feed rewind frame by frame until the dark-haired woman with what looks like Maitlin’s features comes back into view. My heart sinks as my eyes take her in. Her head is down, and I can’t see her face, but I’d know that body any place.
“Fuck.” I hear Mason murmur from behind me. “That can’t be.”
“Certainly looks like her. Would she have had to fill out some paperwork, something with a name on it?” I don’t want to believe that Maitlin came down and paid to have the man who attacked her released, but the video doesn’t lie.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab his paperwork, see who this woman is.”
I take the time to analyze the woman in the blurred picture. Grabbing the remote, I click slowly through, frame by frame, from the time she walks in through the door until she’s out of view. Not once does she look up enough for me to see the features of her face.
She’s wearing oversize sunglasses with a floral sundress, and her dark hair is pulled back on top of her head, not unlike the night I first met her when she was behind the bar, giving me sass. I trace every line of her body, trying to figure out why she would be here, and then I see it… or instead, I don’t.
“It’s fucking her.” Mason tosses down a few papers in front of me, her name and signature clear as day.
“It’s not. I don’t know who it is, but that’s not Maitlin.”
“She signed him out, and she showed identification, Jaxon. I’m sorry man, but it’s her. I don’t want it to be Maitlin any more than you do. But the evidence is all here.”
I grab the papers and look at her name, signature, and copy of her Massachusetts license. Then I look back up at the woman on the monitor. “It’s not her. Look at her neck.”
Mason comes to the screen and studies the Maitlin look-alike. “What about it?”
I let out a deep breath, not wanting to divulge the next bit of information to him. But what choice do I have? I know the woman in the video isn’t her. “She has a hickey on her neck. I… I nearly bit her, but I held back. She told me this morning that I left a hickey on her neck. This woman has no mark on her neck, anywhere.”
“Could be makeup. Most grown women don’t go walking around with hickeys on their necks.”
“No, I’m telling you, That’s. Not. Fucking. Her.” My finger nearly cracks the large screen as I tap it.
“Shit. How fucking sure are you?”
I glare at him. “Do you think I would mention Maitlin having a fucking mark on her neck if it weren’t a hundred percent sure?”
“No, I don’t.” He studies the screen looking at the woman. “Shit, you should go to Maitlin. I’ll stay here and see what else I can find out.”
MAITLIN
The day was a whirlwind of activity. The plan that Shellie and I had in place to stay put and binge watch Netflix was halted when Cole showed up unannounced and insisted that he was here to move us. Shellie’s Aunt Kap showed up just after he did and told us we are moving to “the tower,” whatever the fuck that is.
I’m not going to lie. I was disappointed when Cole said that Kap sent him and not Jaxon, especially since it was Cole who drove Jaxon and me back to the Lenox late last night.
My heart squeezes in my chest. Jaxon must know by now what happened, yet he’s made no attempt even to try to contact me. I shouldn’t be surprised, and it’s not like we're in a relationship. We just fucked.
I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter that he has a business to run. He doesn’t have time to worry about the feelings of some random hook-up. At least that what I tell myself while packing up what little belongings I have here and hand them off to Cole, who packs everything into the same black Escalade as last night.
I hand Cole my last bag, and he places it into the truck before he goes back to standing guard outside our apartment. “Don’t you want to come in?”
“No, I’ll stay here.”
He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses even though the sun has set, and I can’t imagine he can see much as he scans the street. He looks more like a bouncer than a driver.
“So what is it that you do for Jax… Mr. Krieger?” I ask, quickly correcting myself. Cole gives me a sideways glance at my use of Mr. Krieger instead of Jaxon, as he should since he knows I was with him this morning.
“I do whatever he needs.”
“Oh, okay.” He’s a man of few words, apparently. I’ve seen him around the Lenox, usually standing in a shadow someplace, watching his surroundings. Just like he’s doing now. “So, where’s this tower?”
“It’s downtown, not far from the Lenox.” He pauses, and I can swear he is smiling when he adds. “It’s where Mr. Krieger resides… full time.”
“Oh,” I say, not wanting to appear too excited about potentially seeing Jaxon again, even if it is only in passing.
To my shock, Cole adds, “He lives in the penthouse, and you’ll be staying a few floors down.” He lowers his dark glasses and looks at me. “But to get to the apartment, you’ll have to go through the private entrance.”
I try to hide my smile but fail miserably, so I make my way inside to find Shellie and Kap. I hear them speaking upstairs, so I go up to see if they are nearly ready to leave. Standing outside the doorway to Shellie's room, I hear my name whispered, then Jaxon’s.
I’m not sure about the context in which they were mentioning both our names, but when I walk in, they both stop speaking and look at me.
“Are you almost ready to go?” I ask tentatively. I take a moment to look at Shellie’s Aunt Kap. She’s stun
ningly beautiful, with long blonde hair, bright green eyes, and she doesn’t look old enough to be Shellie’s aunt. Her sister, maybe.
I can see why the rumor mill would be ripe with accusations and stories of Jaxon and Kap being a couple. Eventually, two beautiful people who work closely together will find each other. I learned that one the hard way. As far as I’ve heard, they were together professionally for decades, which makes me wonder how old Jaxon is. I assume he is in his late thirties, but that isn’t possible.
The ride is too silent, and I’m beginning to feel like everyone is treating me as if I may break. Cole isn’t driving, he’s sitting silently in the passenger seat ready to pounce should someone suddenly attack the SUV.
“Cole, can I use your phone, please?” I ask, needing to text Jaxon that I won’t be able to meet him tonight at the Lenox. I could have used Shellie’s, but unfortunately, I have no idea what Jaxon’s number is, and I don’t want to ask.
Without a word or a backward glance, he hands his phone over to me. When I look down, it’s already open to a text to Jaxon. I smile to myself, and I’ll have to remember to do something nice for Cole to thank him for all he’s done.
Cole: Hi, Jaxon, it’s Maitlin.
I’m at a loss as to how to tell him I won’t be able to meet him tonight. I don’t want to get into what happened this morning via text. But he deserves more than just an “I can’t make it” as an explanation.
Cole: I had an accident this morning. I’m fine but won’t be able to make it over to see you tonight.
I barely hit send when the little dots begin to jump around, then stop, then the phone vibrates and rings in my hand. I see that it’s Jaxon, but I still hand it back to Cole to answer. Something strikes me as rude, answering someone else's phone.
He answers and hands the phone directly back to me.
“Hello.” My voice is softer than I intend, but when I hear his deep, masculine voice, I feel warmth envelope my body.
“Are you okay?” I hear the worry in his voice. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon. Mason finally told me that your phone was…” He pauses, and I hear him sigh. “Broken.”
“I’m fine. But I won’t be able to…”I look around the truck and see Shellie and Kap both staring at me. “Work tonight,” I quickly cover.
“I’m on my way to The Tower. I’ll meet you there.”
“It’s not—” I try to protest, but he interrupts me before I can tell him it’s not necessary.
“I need to see you for myself to know you’re okay.” I hear the crack in his voice, but he quickly recovers and adds, “Can I speak to Cole for a minute?”
“Yes, sure, of course. I guess I’ll see you later.”
Tapping Cole on the shoulder, I hand him back the phone. I try, unsuccessfully, to listen in on their conversation. When I realize it’s useless, I sit back in the plush leather seat and relax for the rest of the ride.
The drive through the city at nearly ten at night doesn’t take very long. When we arrive at our destination, the driver inserts a key card, and the underground parking garage opens. When the SUV comes to a stop, Cole instructs us to stay in the vehicle until he makes sure the area is secure.
Truthfully, I find this to all be a bit of overkill for the situation. With Neil in custody, our apartment would have been safe to stay in.
I watch as Cole visibly checks around the private garage, for what I’ve no idea. When he comes around and opens my door, though, he instructs me to go directly to the elevator, where another large man is standing waiting to escort us upstairs.
“Is all of this necessary?” I ask Cole, who is holding the passenger door open for me.
“Mr. Krieger gave specific instructions concerning your safety and security. So, yes, it’s necessary.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” I hold out my hand. “May I use your phone again, please?”
Cole lowers his dark glasses, and for a moment, I’m taken back by the odd amber color of his eyes. “He just wants to make sure you’re both safe.”
“I’m a grown woman, and I don’t require a babysitter.”
Reaching into his pocket, Cole pulls out his phone but holds it firmly when I try to take it. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “He’s been worried about you all day. You must be very special to him.”
I drop my hand from his phone and exit to make my way to the lift. “Thank you,” I say over my shoulder before I step inside and the door closes.
With her back leaning against the elevator’s polished wall, Shellie smirks at me while raising her eyebrow. We’ve known each other so long that I know exactly what she’s thinking without her saying it.
While she’s aware I spent time with Jaxon last night, or rather, this morning, with all that happened today, we haven’t had a chance actually to talk. But the look on her face tells me she knows that no man is going to go through this much trouble for a woman he didn’t sleep with.
I give her a shrug, and when she begins to speak, I give her a sideways glance. She may be aware I spent the night with Jaxon, but I don’t think Kap would approve, so I need her to keep her mouth shut. Thankfully, she cooperates.
“Mr. Krieger's apartment is the penthouse on the fifty-first floor. I originally had you in the lower residential section, but he insisted that you be at the executive level, so you’ll be on forty-nine,” Kap states nonchalantly.
The elevator doors open into an ample open space with a crystal chandelier hanging over a round marble table with the most extensive floral arrangement on it I’ve ever seen. There are only two doors on this floor, forty-nine A, and forty-nine B. Kap opens the entrance to the apartment marked A.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it isn’t what greets us. The apartment is fantastic, with its wide-open floor plan, floor-to-ceiling windows, exposed brick, and rustic-charm-meets-city décor, clearly Kap’s handy work.
“I need to get to the office for a call with Japan,” Kap informs us as we’re walking through the massive space. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. The kitchen is stocked, and Cole should be bringing up your belongings in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say, despite still wanting to protest, leaving Shellie's apartment. “It’s just too much.”
Kap’s smile is genuine when she looks at me. “Don’t be silly. You’re like family to us, and we always take care of family.”
The moment the door clicks shut and Kap is out of the apartment, Shellie pounces for information.
“I’ll get the wine, and then you have about three seconds to spill.”
Without thinking, I touch my neck where Jaxon left his mark and smile.
“Oh, my God, did he bite you?” She stops mid-pour and rushes to me, swiping my hair to the side to inspect my hickey.
“It’s a fricking hickey,” I say, laughing as I pull away. “You’ve seen a million. What’s the big deal? Except for the fact that I’m not sixteen, and Jaxon isn’t the quarterback under the bleachers.”
“Let me see it,” she snaps, no humor in her voice when she speaks.
I pull away again when she reaches for me. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“I can’t believe he bit you. I trusted him to take care of you. Did he at least ask before he sank his fucking fangs into you?”
“What the hell are you talking about? He didn’t bite me.” I rub my neck, clearly missing something in her reaction to a hickey, but I’m not sure what.
Handing me a glass of wine, finally, she changes her tone. “May I please take a look at your neck?”
Taking a large gulp of my drink, I stand my ground. There is more to Shellie’s response than she’s saying. I’ve never seen her have such a reaction to, well, anything. I figured she would give me some good-natured ribbing and probably make fun of me for being nearly thirty with a hickey, but this…. This is just bizarre.
“I’m not showing you my neck until you tell me why.”
“It’s not my place.” It’
s the only explanation she gives in regards to her strange behavior as she moves past me to sit on the large leather sectional.
I take a seat across from her and wait. She’s sipping her wine and staring blankly off into space, contemplating.
“Talk to me, Shell. We’ve been friends for a long time. And honestly, you’re freaking me out.”
“There are just some things—” Before she can finish, a knock on the door saves her from whatever confession she was about to make.
“This isn’t over,” I say before going to grab the door and letting Cole in with our belongings.
I was expecting the brooding Cole with the rest of our bags, but when I open the door, tall, dark and dangerous stands there, and seeing him before me, taking me in, unleashes every emotion I was holding back all day.
“Maitlin.”
The moment he speaks my name, a flood of tears runs down my face as the strength I was trying to present breaks. He wraps his arms around me without a word, and with his masculine scent and heat enveloped around me, I finally feel safe.
JAXON
The moment the door opens, and I see her, it’s everything I can do not to grab her and pull her against me. She beautiful, notwithstanding the dark purple bruise marring her temple.
I swear, when I find that fucker, I’m going to kill him slowly.
I watch as her resolve fades, and at that moment, I don’t care who can see. I step inside, closing the distance between us and wrap my arms around her. I let her small frame melt into me. Her body fits against me like a long lost puzzle piece, her soft against my hard.
I press my lips against the top of her head as I feel the first wave of sobs escape her.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” I’m not sure what to say, so I hold her tighter. I’m usually not one to offer comfort. But at this moment, here with her embraced in my arms, I want to be the man who protects her. I want to be the man who shows her what it means to be loved. To be the man who slays her monsters and makes her demons disappear, not the man who becomes them.
Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
