Chapter 4 #2
But did she, really? She didn’t know where she was. The boat was gone. How far could she run before he caught up with her? She didn’t even know which direction to go.
She swallowed hard, still outside the door. “You live here?”
“I stay here occasionally.” He crossed back to the living area, pulled his handgun from a holster beneath his T-shirt, and set it on the coffee table. Then he returned to the kitchen. “I have water, if you’re thirsty.”
Her throat was parched from salt water and fear.
She stared at the gun. It was right there. Would Jaz let her get all the way to it? Could she really trust him?
He pulled two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, set them on the counter, and then turned to look into a cabinet along the back wall. Not watching her. Just…trusting her.
She could grab the gun and shoot him if she wanted to. She could turn and disappear into the woods.
Jaz was giving her the option to do either.
Please, Lord, keep me safe.
Jaz wasn’t going to hurt her. She believed it in her head. Even so, it took considerable effort to step into the cabin and close the screen door behind her. “Water, yes. Please.”
He closed the cabinet, not having grabbed anything, and tossed her a bottle. She caught it with a crinkle of plastic. After dropping her small bag on the floor, she opened the water and drank deeply.
“Bathroom’s through there if you want to clean up.” Jaz gestured to a door on her left.
She wanted a shower more than anything, but that would require turning her back on him. Taking off her clothes.
Jaz leaned against the counter, keeping his distance.
“Okay.”
“There’re sweatpants and T-shirts in the top drawer. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” She nearly grabbed the gun, but didn’t. If he had nefarious intentions, then he either wouldn’t have left it or would have emptied it of bullets.
She hurried through the door and closed it, finding herself in a small bedroom.
Bed, dresser, overhead fan. Like the living room, there was nothing personal, nothing decorative.
Another door stood ajar on the far side.
She stepped in and flipped on the light, revealing a small but clean bathroom with a shower stall.
A high window was open, letting in the evening breeze.
Her reflection in the mirror stopped her. She hardly recognized herself. Her usually shiny chestnut hair hung in tangles around her face. Dark smudges shadowed her eyes, which were red-rimmed from the salt.
She’d been shot at. She’d shot two men. She’d seen a boat explode with souls on board. She was a target of a drug cartel, if Jaz could be believed.
“Who are you now?” she whispered to her reflection.
A woman who’d taken lives. Even in self-defense, even to save herself and her crew, she’d pulled that trigger. Those men were someone’s sons, maybe someone’s fathers. They’d made terrible choices, yes, but did that mean they deserved to die without a chance to turn their lives around?
Lord, I know You see them. I know You loved them too.
Ignoring the tears wetting her cheeks, she turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes, which she left on the floor in a heap. The water pressure was better than she’d expected, and she stood under the hot spray, washing off all the horror of the day until her skin turned pink.
She shampooed, then leaned out of the shower to snatch her underwear and bra from the bathroom floor. She scrubbed them with a dab of shampoo. Until she could get to her apartment in town, they were her only option. Damp and clean was better than dry and salty.
When the water started to cool, she shut it off and reached for the towel hanging on the hook. It was thin and rough but seemed clean enough. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, then squeezed out her underthings and hung them on the hook.
She opened the bathroom door and peeked to make sure it was empty, then stepped into the cooler room.
She found a plain gray T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants in the bureau.
They were way too big but had a drawstring waistband, so they should work.
She slipped them on, then returned to the bathroom, where she located a hairbrush in a drawer and worked to untangle her hair.
When she could think of no other way to put off the inevitable, she opened the door to the living room.
Jaz looked up from where he was bent over a chest that served as a coffee table. He tossed something onto the sofa—a cheetah-print fabric that was so out of place in the dingy room that she nearly laughed. It landed on top of a pile of clothes. “You leave me any hot water?”
“Not much. What’s all that?” She nodded to the pile.
“We have to go out. I’m expected in town.”
“Expected?” Kenzie stared at the heap of pastel, animal print, and glittering fabric, confused. “Are you looking for something to wear?”
He threw a look at her over his shoulder. “We’re going to a party.”
“Wait…we? You want me to go to a party? Tonight?” She stepped back. “Are you kidding? I’ve been attacked, shot at, kidnapped. My life is falling apart, and you want to—what, go clubbing?”
“I want to maintain my cover.” Jaz’s voice hardened. “Which means showing up where I’m expected to be with a pretty woman at my side. Tonight, that’s you.”
“You’re hilarious.” Kenzie plopped down on the sofa beside the pile and crossed her arms, the too-large T-shirt billowing around her. “I’m not going to play dress-up while my life is imploding.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive long enough to get answers.” Jaz added a bright green sparkly skirt to the pile, closed the chest with a thud, and straightened to face her. “This isn’t optional.”
“Not optional?” She rose, too angry to remain seated. “I do not answer to you. I decide what I do and where I go.”
“How’s that working out for you? If not for me, you’d be feeding the fishes. Or worse.”
She winced at the implication. She had a good idea of what he’d saved her from.
“Look, captain.” He practically sneered the title she’d worked so hard for. “I’ve been building my cover for years. If I don’t show, the wrong people will start asking questions.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you and the men you worked for.”
She should ask what he meant, how he knew the Blue Fantasy had been targeted, what he knew about the drugs on board. She needed answers.
But she didn’t want to think about any of that. She wanted to crawl between cool sheets and sleep. To pretend none of this was happening for a little while. Was that so much to ask? “I’ll stay here.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“And if I refuse?”
A hint of that playboy smile flashed across his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll lock you in a closet until I get back.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” But the look on his face told her he absolutely would.
“Try me.” He gestured to the clothes. “Or you could help stop the people who set you up.”
“How will going to a party help?”
“Here’s what won’t help.” His voice was hard. “My cover getting blown. And maybe we’ll learn something.”
Kenzie stared at him, weighing her options.
Going to a party after everything that had happened felt wrong, but she wasn’t sure he was kidding about the closet thing.
So fine. She’d play along. For now. But this—him making all the decisions while she followed orders—this wasn’t going to work long-term.
She gestured to the pile of garments on the couch. “Why do you have all that?”
“For such a time as this.”
That non-answer wouldn’t do. Something had to make sense.
He must’ve read her mind because he sighed. “Believe it or not, they came with the place. When I rented it, that chest was here.”
She wasn’t sure if she did believe him, but it was an answer. She lifted the green sequined skirt between her forefinger and her thumb. “I’m not wearing that.”
“It’s not your color.” He sorted through the pile, holding up a black dress with a plunging neckline. “This might work.”
“That’s not a dress. That’s a handkerchief with delusions of grandeur.”
He chuckled, an actual, genuine little laugh. It was a nice sound.
She picked through the options herself, pushing aside more sequins and animal prints until she found a simple navy sheath dress that looked like it would cover more than it revealed. “This one.”
He frowned. “That’s too conservative.”
“What? You wouldn’t be seen with a woman who wears normal clothes?”
“I have a reputation—”
“Unfortunately for you, one evening with me on your arm isn’t going to fix it.” She snatched the dress before he could argue.
He smirked, turning to search the chest again, then held out a blond wig. “And you’ll need this too.”
“Uh, that’s a hard no.”
“Captain Kenzie can’t just waltz into a party as if nothing happened. You need a disguise.”
“Or I just stay—”
“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy.” The words were practically shouted.
“Would you just do as I ask? Please? I’m trying to keep you alive.
Pick an outfit, any outfit, and put on the wig.
” He took a breath and pointed to the chest. “There’s makeup in there.
You should wear some. I’m taking a shower.
” He marched past her into the bedroom and slammed the door.
He acted as if she were being unreasonable. As if going to a party in a wig and borrowed clothes made perfect sense after everything that had happened.
To be fair, he’d gone through as much as she had that day, and he’d done it on purpose.
A knock came from the inside of the bedroom door.
She turned to face it. “What?”
He peeked out. “You’ll find some underwear and bras in a bag in the chest. Help yourself.”
He closed the door before the blush she felt warming her cheeks could show. Obviously, he’d seen her underthings drying in his bathroom.
So what that he had a chest full of women’s clothes.
It was weird, but not the strangest thing she’d dealt with since she’d opened her eyes that morning.
She didn’t understand any of this. Once they were in town, she’d get her bearings.
If she didn’t want to stick with Jaz, she could escape or ask for help.
In town, surrounded by people, was a far sight better than trapped in a cabin with a man who was proving far more complicated than she’d ever have guessed.