I open the envelope and pull out a small stack of pictures. As the first image comes into view, my world slows down. I flip through the photos and it feels like all of the oxygen is sucked out of the room until my lungs are burning. Each image is worse than the last.
Me and Chance the last time we had lunch at Burger Joint. Me and Lindsay a few weeks ago jogging in the park. Me on the bus. Me feeding bacon to Hank. Me and Drake that first night at Al’s. Me in Drake’s truck while he’s walking around to get in the driver’s side. This picture is taken from an angle so that I can see the broad smile on his face. Then there is one of our very public kisses in the parking lot this morning. And the rotten cherry on top of this shit sundae… a picture from the other day at the park. Brenden is smiling happily from his seat on Drake’s shoulders. I’m walking beside them, a smile on my face as I look up at Drake.
The picture is one of those perfect candid shots that captures a moment that you want to freeze in time and keep forever. In any other context, I would treasure this picture because this picture looks like the future, I didn’t realize I wanted. Then Drake stormed into my world breaking the status quo and showing me how lonely my existence has been. Being in this envelope, the picture hits the mark as intended. I’m scared—terrified even.
“Hey, firecracker, you almost ready?” Drake’s voice startles me, and I nearly jump out of my skin sending the pictures flying.
I drop to my knees and try to gather them up before he can see them. It’s a wasted effort because Drake is right there, helping me pick up the mess.
“What the fuck are these?”
I look up at him from my kneeling position and feel the hot tears spillover. “I—I…”
Drake takes the remaining pictures from my hands and looks through them. With each new image, his expression hardens. I know the second he sees the picture with Brenden because he looks murderous.
Oh, God. I’ve brought a monster into his life, and now his family could be in danger all because I’m an idiot and let myself get comfortable in my new life.
“Who took these?” His voice is like thunder in the small room. I jump, hating that I’m defaulting back to the broken, beaten down thing I was before I escaped Frankie.
“I can’t…” I shake my head trying to find the right words that will send him away without putting him in further danger. “You need to leave, Drake.”
He looks completely taken aback. “Leave? What? No.”
I grab the pictures from his hands and shove them into my bag. I turn away, unable to look at Drake as I formulate a plan to break things off with him. Maybe if I can get him outside whoever it is that’s watching will witness me sending him away.
Drake is silent as he stalks behind me. I can feel the anger radiating off of him. He doesn’t speak until the elevator doors close. “Joselynn, tell me what the hell is going on.”
I don’t respond. Now that I have the idea in my head to make this a public argument, I decide it’s best to wait. Otherwise, it’ll give Drake the chance to try to reason with me, and I cannot let that happen.
“Who took the pictures?”
I stubbornly remain silent. Thankfully, the elevators open and a small family of three gets on and rides the remainder of the way down with us. Outside, I see Drake’s truck parked in the opposite direction of the bus stop. Good. I start toward the bus stop, Drake still hot on my heels. I’m halfway to the bus stop when a big hand claps down on my shoulder. Even though I know it’s just Drake, I shriek and nearly fall in an attempt to get away.
“It’s okay, Joselynn. It’s just me.” All of the anger that was practically a living breathing thing of its own is completely gone. Replaced with genuine concern and hurt at my reaction. My heart breaks because none of this is his fault, and yet, he’s about to be punished for it. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”
I throw my hands up in the air, trying to force some anger or at the very least indignation into my body language, if not my voice. Hopefully, whoever is watching isn’t close enough to hear the shakiness in my words.
“I don’t know, okay? Just… just leave. Please. I can’t do this with you.”
There is a deep hurt in Drake’s eyes, but it only lasts a moment before it’s gone and replaced with quiet resolve. “I’m not going anywhere, Joselynn. Someone is following you around and taking pictures of you! You’ve got some stalker sending you flowers and love notes…”
“And that’s not your problem,” I grit out.
“The hell it isn’t.” Drake closes the few feet that I managed to put between us. “Everything that concerns you is my problem. If I haven’t made it clear enough before now, let me clarify… You. Are. Mine.”
My eyes widen, and I forget how to breathe. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Drake was supposed to just walk away. I would push, and he would walk away and be safe. Instead, he’s laying claim on me in a very public way, and my fragile heart locks onto those three little words and hopes against all hope that they will one day evolve into three very different words.
“I can’t be yours. No…” I shake my head and back away from him. “It’s not safe for you… you’ve got to go. I’ve got to go…” I’m half talking to myself at this point. Maybe if I say the words aloud, I will listen to my own advice and get myself to the bus stop and out of Drake’s life. It’s the only way he will be safe.
“It’s too late, firecracker. You’re already mine.” His arms pull me against his solid chest, and his words whisper through my heart, laying waste to my plans. “Let me help you. At the very least, let me drive you home.”
Common sense seems to fly out the window because even though I resolved to push him away, I find myself relaxing into his arms. For the first time since Mrs. O’Neal introduced me to her brother-in-law, I find myself wanting to let someone else take some of this fearsome weight off of my shoulders.
Drake’s presence reminds me that I’m not nearly as alone as I was all those years ago. While having people I care about has its negatives as evidenced by the pictures hidden away in my purse, it also means there is someone here to share the burden with.
“Let me take you home,” he repeats.
I quietly agree and allow him to lead me to his truck. The short ride back to my place is done in silence. At least a dozen worries are vying for my attention and I can’t seem to focus on any specific one. All I know is that Drake is here, and I’m not alone. There is a level of security in knowing that I’ve never felt before. Even when I first met Kieffer, and he set me up with my new identity and gave me my freedom, I never felt as safe as I do right now in just having someone sitting beside me, holding my hand as he drives me home.
Once we get inside my apartment, I know Drake is going to start asking his questions again. I’m honestly not sure how much I should tell him about Frankie and my history. I never asked Kieffer if my new identity was on the books or not. It never really mattered before now because I had never planned to tell a soul about my past. Now I need to know what is and isn’t safe to tell Drake.
I mean, just by being seen with me I’ve made him a target. Him and his family. It makes me nauseous thinking about little Brenden being in the line of sight of whoever Frankie sent to deal with me. He’s an innocent, and I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to him.
So that begs to question, what exactly do I tell Drake?
When I unlock the apartment, Drake enters first then tells me to wait by the door. He moves efficiently from room to room checking windows and closets. I almost forgot that Drake works in private security. In my mind, he’s a soldier. I guess it’s not much different than my many name changes… being a soldier was another life for him.
“No boogeymen under the bed?” My sad attempt at a joke falls flat.
“Will you tell me what’s going on?”
I want nothing more than to say no and run away screaming, but that’s not going to help anything, and I’m so tired of running.
“I
’m not really sure how much I can tell you…”
Drake nods like he understands, but I’m not sure how he could possibly. “Just tell me what you can.”
With a sigh, I curl up on one end of my couch, pulling one of the soft pillows into my lap and hugging it close to my chest like a shield.
“You’ve already guessed that I was in an abusive relationship. I mean, I guess it was fairly obvious even before my little breakdown last night.” I try really hard to sound flippant and know that it doesn’t work. Talking about this is like ripping off a scab from a barely healed wound. It hurts and makes me bleed.
“I hate that you’ve been hurt.” The sincerity in his tone nearly brings tears to my eyes. I force them back because if I start crying now, I’ll never stop.
“To make a long, ugly story short; my ex didn’t agree with the break-up. When he wouldn’t accept that it was over, he stalked me. I had to move around a few times, but every time he found me and tried to bring me back…”
I have to pause because I’ve run out of breath. Memories of those first years on the run assault me… The times I was found and nearly caught. When I thought I’d never, ever be free. Wondering if there was anywhere I could run far enough to get away from Frankie.
“It took moving out of state for him to finally stop.”
Okay, so that was the truth… with a whole lot of downplaying and a bit of evasion.
When Drake doesn’t comment, I find the nerve to look at him. He looks thunderously mad again. “Who is this man?” he practically spits that last word like it offends him to even call my ex a man.
“I can’t tell you that.” At least, not until I talk to Kieffer and he tells me what to do.
Drake looks annoyed but doesn’t argue. “Answer me this then… Is your life in danger?”
Now that’s a million-dollar question if I ever heard one.
Is Frankie dangerous?
Absolutely. He’s a sadistic fuck who had an innocent woman beaten until she was in a killed because she helped me get away. He pushed me down a flight of stairs while pregnant with his baby in a fit because he was jealous. He is the most dangerous person I know.
Does he want me dead? I don’t think so… I have zero doubt that if he gets his hands on me, there will be pain. He’ll beat me and try to force me back into my place. I can’t imagine him going to all of this trouble just to kill me though. Unless he’s gotten crazier. More sadistic… I shake the thought away. None of that matters because I am not going back.
“He’s a real bastard, but he doesn’t want me dead. He wants me to toe the line and be the perfect fiancée.”
I send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that I’m right about that. The pictures of Maggie’s beaten, and broken body still haunt me. I slam the door on that line of thinking because imagining the possibilities will just drive me insane.
“He can’t have you,” Drake says possessively. “You’re mine. He’s a dead man if he touches one hair on your head.”
“Drake…” I start to tell him that he shouldn’t say that, that he doesn’t understand how dangerous Frankie is or the lengths he will go to get what he wants. I don’t think my life is in danger, but if he gets in his way, his life could be in danger. I can’t properly warn him, and that makes me feel incredibly guilty.
The guilt shines a spotlight on my utter selfishness. For a moment, I actually let myself imagine letting Drake into my life. I actually thought about finding a way to stay even though it’s obvious Frankie has somehow found me again. If I stay, Drake is going to try to fight for me, and that will not end well. Not up against Frankie and his goons. He didn’t survive war just to die at the feet of my selfishness.
No.
I won’t let that happen.
“You need to leave.” By some miracle. my voice is steady as I say the words. Drake looks at me with confusion and makes no move to leave. I cross the room to the door and open it. “You need to leave now.”
“Joselynn… don’t do this. I can help you.” The look of hurt on his face is almost enough to break through my resolve, but I can’t let him risk himself.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want your help!” My voice cracks at the end of my hurtful lie.
Please, please, Drake, just go. Don’t make me hurt you. Thankfully, my silent pleas are answered when he silently leaves.
As soon as the locks are all engaged, I crumple to the floor and let loose a torrent of tears and sobs. I want to open the door and chase after Drake. I want to call him back and let him wrap me in his arms and make everything all better. I know if he just held me things would be okay. I can’t let that happen though. Not if I want to keep him safe. I had a moment of insanity, and it’s gone now.
I pick myself up off the floor and go to my purse. First taking out the pictures and then my cell phone. I sit at my little kitchen table and pull up my contact list. My finger hesitates over Kieffer’s name for a moment before I tap the screen.
“Jos! Hey, sweetpea! It’s been too long. How are you?” Kieffer’s joyfulness at hearing from me makes my gut clench. First in guilt because it has been too long since I called last and then pain because soon enough, I might not be able to call him anytime I want.
“He found me.” I barely manage to force the words out before I choke back a little sob, swallowing down the lump in my throat that threatens to suffocate me.
“Tell me what happened.” All the warm comfort of my dear friend is gone in a flash, replaced by the man I met three years ago, the hardened ex-CIA agent. But then, that’s comforting in its own way. Kieffer will know what to do.
I relay everything that’s happened; the flowers, the notes, and the pictures. I tell Kieffer about Drake and the picture with Lindsay, cringing at the vehement cursing when he learns that his daughter might be caught in the crosshairs. I didn’t think I could feel any more guilt over the situation, but I was wrong because now I am reminded of how much Lindsay means to Kieffer. She’s his only daughter, and even though they’ve adopted me into the family, it’s not the same.
“Listen to me, Joselynn,” Kieffer’s sharp words cut through my rambling. I’m not even sure what I was saying. I was babbling about the pictures and leaving and apologizing for endangering everyone… “Don’t you dare run. I’ll set fire to that storage unit over on Elm if you even think about running away.”
“How did you…” I trail off shocked that he knows about my storage unit. It’s not even in my name. My emergency getaway plan has been in place since I first moved here. It’s not that I didn’t trust Kieffer, but old habits die hard, and I kept the car and alternate identity secret. Obviously, not secret enough.
“Please, sweetpea. You know who and what I am. I know everything.”
“But don’t you see… if I run away, everyone will be safe again,” I argue.
“Or he’ll kidnap someone and try to get them to tell him where you’re hiding.”
“I won’t tell anyone!”
“Do you think he will believe that? Do you remember how long they followed Helen around after you disappeared? Do you really want to take the chance that Lindsay or this Drake of yours will be taken and questioned in your absence?” His horrible words paint a vivid picture for my overwrought mind. Lindsay’s face is superimposed over the images of Maggie’s broken face. Drake’s blue eyes, wide and unseeing, his broken body lying in a pool of his own blood.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll stay. Just… just tell me what to do.”
12
Drake
Unadulterated rage burns through my mind. Joselynn’s being stalked, and she’s obviously terrified. Instead of leaning on me and letting me help her, she’s pushing me away. The last of the locks engage, the snicking sound feels final. I raise my fist to knock on her door, but let it fall when the unmistakable sound of sobbing, muffled as it is by the door, hits my ears. Instinct wars with common sense.
My baser instincts demand that I break down that door and comfort my wom
an. She shouldn’t be alone right now. A tiny kernel of lucidity stays my hand. Joselynn sent me away for a reason, and I’m positive that reason isn’t that she doesn’t want me.
I saw the look on her face when she watched me flip through the pictures. She was scared, for sure, and logically, she should be scared for herself. However, I got the distinct impression she’s afraid for me and her friends in the pictures more than her own safety. She’s sending me away in a misguided attempt to protect me. That is the only reason why I order my feet to walk away when I want to stay and protect her with every fiber of my being.
She can send me away—for now—but I’ll be back. Joselynn is mine. Mine to protect. I don’t need to be standing beside her to keep her safe. It’s time to find out who the fucker is that dares to threaten what’s mine. Time to make him pay.
* * *
“A fake identity?” I hear myself saying, talking more to myself than the men in front of me.
“A damn good one,” Mack’s voice comes through the speaker on the conference table. “Whoever created Joselynn Brooks is a fucking genius. Most people don’t go to the trouble of changing private records to match public records. Her work records date back to when she was sixteen. The IRS even thinks Joselynn Brooks paid taxes from an afterschool job at a bookstore. As far as fakes go, this is damn near flawless.”
“Why damn near and not flawless?” Hutch asks before I get the chance.
“That bookstore is a mom and pop kind of place… one phone call confirmed that Joselynn Brooks never worked there. Most people wouldn’t mess with confirming something like that, especially not with tax records backing it up and making things look all official.”
Hutch grunts in response. “Any idea who she really is?”
His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series Page 10
