34. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
AJ
I ’d tossed and turned through most of the night. In an attempt to calm my mind, I walked the interior anytime I woke up, checking on Blake each time. From the sound of it, she hadn’t slept well either.
Needing to disrupt the freight train of negative thoughts plowing through my mind, I called Jack.
“Sheppard. Everything okay?”
I couldn’t blame him for his concern; it was three am. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d see if you needed anything?” I lied.
“I could use a bathroom break,” he answered. “And some coffee.”
“I’ll start a pot and throw some shoes on. Meet you at the door in three.”
“Sounds good.”
We’d agreed to switch places after ten minutes, so I took advantage of the space and walked around the front of the house to really stretch my legs and work off my nervous energy, while Jack took advantage of the modern plumbing.
The blast of cool, fresh air did me good because I fell asleep easily after my walk.
I woke up two hours later and didn’t bother going back to sleep. Instead, I did some bodyweight exercises after checking the house again.
After a quick shower, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and started breakfast. I prepped everything I’d need to make omelets and cleaned up the living room. I couldn’t vacuum, so I read until Blake woke up.
Blake's footsteps disrupted my reading. I gave up entirely when I heard the water running. Fucking thin walls . Fantasizing about her small, curvy body in the shower, suds running down her silky smooth skin, was the last thing I needed.
I forced myself to walk through the entire house in my mind, trying to remember every detail of every room.
When Blake joined me in the kitchen, her hair was still damp. Don’t think about the fantasy. Don’t think about the fantasy.
“Thanks for making coffee.”
“You’re welcome. Want an omelet?” I asked, as if I wasn’t just envisioning her naked.
She nodded as she poured and doctored her coffee.
I let her enjoy her coffee for a few minutes while I started the sausage links on the stove. I’d cook the omelet after the links were done.
“Did you sleep okay?” I asked, knowing she'd slept no better than I had but wanting to start a conversation.
“Not really. I’m guessing you didn’t either; I heard you get up a few times during the night.”
“Sorry if I woke you.”
“It wasn’t you.”
I heated a second cast iron pan and coated it in butter to sauté the cut veggies before adding the egg mix. I scrambled in some cream cheese to make them extra creamy before letting them cook. After flipping the omelet, I added a generous helping of cheddar jack cheese.
“Here you go.” I set her plate in front of her.
Her eyes rounded. “That’s a lot of food.” Her laughter was music to my ears.
“You don’t have to eat it all, but you’ll need the energy after not sleeping well.”
While we ate, I got a message from John asking me to call him. Not wanting to be rude and walk away from breakfast, I said I’d call in ten.
This time, when Blake volunteered to clean up, I let her. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to call John.” I didn’t miss the flash of concern that crossed her face before she nodded and turned towards the sink.
“I’ll be right back.”
I dialed John’s cell as I walked to my room, shutting the door behind me to lessen the risk of Blake overhearing me.
“Janerek, how are things going?” He greeted me with a question.
“As well as it can, sir. Aurora’s struggling, but doing her best to adjust.”
“Good. St. Charles is on his way to relieve Jack.” It was weird having him refer to Dean by his last name, but it was his standard procedure during missions. The only exception was his sons, to avoid confusion.
“Copy that. Any updates?” John hadn’t called to tell me Dean was on his way.
“We’ve uncovered evidence of Davenport’s corruption.”
Shit . This would kill Blake.
“I need you to push her a little harder for informa-”
“She’s not involved.” I cut him off, practically barking.
“Calm down, I’m not saying she is.” He paused, waiting to see if I had anything else to say. I didn’t. “She may have noticed things that could help and not realized it.”
“If you have evidence, why do you need Blake’s help?” It seemed cruel to question her about her father’s misdeeds if I didn’t need to.
“Because the evidence doesn’t help us narrow down who’s threatening Blake.” John sounded like a cop, which wasn’t surprising given he’d spent most of his adult life in uniform.
Identifying the threat, not convicting Davenport, was the priority. I ground my back teeth. “What should ask about?” I hated adding this to her already overflowing pile of stress.
“Ask about behavior changes, visitors who may have seemed abnormal or given her the creeps, more late night meetings than usual, that kind of stuff. Like I said, we don’t think Blake is involved, but anything she might have observed could help.”
“Copy that.”
“I can ask Jack to stick around if you’re not comfortable questioning her.”
Hell no. Jack was a good guy, but there was no way I was going to make it seem like we were ganging up on her.
“I’ll handle it.” I hung up on my boss without waiting for a reply.
I took a few deep breaths to steel my resolve before walking back to the kitchen.
I refilled my coffee, wishing I had some whiskey to take the edge off.
“Thanks for cleaning up,” I said, interrupted her reading.
“Everything okay?” Her voice trembled ever so slightly.
“Yeah, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
She sighed and put her book down.
Blake alternated between irritation, anger, and shock as she answered my questions. Huffing out answers without thinking, then apologizing.
She admitting to noticing her father had seemed more stressed than usual lately, but had chalked it up to Priscilla’s constant whining.
“A lot of the people who visit him give me the creeps. They’re old politicians who like to grope women and think they can get away with murder,” she said, exasperation thick in her voice.
“What about non-politicians?” I pushed.
“None that stand out. I was only there on weekends, so I didn’t see much.” She looked ashamed when she said, “To be honest, I always checked out during Daddy’s events, so I barely remember anyone I met.”
“No shame in that.”
Because she lived on campus during the week, she couldn’t really speak to changes or abnormalities in his schedule.
“Blake, I’m sorry I had to ask. We’re trying to put some pieces together.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie, either. I still hate myself.
“You found something, didn’t you?”
I twirled my coffee cup in my hand. I didn’t want to lie, and she was smart, smarter than me, so there was no sense in playing word games to disguise the truth.
“They have, though I don’t know what it is. It sounds like it’s-”
She cut me off. “He’s innocent. He has to be.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but there’s a good chance he’s committed a few crimes.”
“No.” She stood up and slammed her cup on the table, causing coffee to spill over the rim. “I don’t believe it. I won’t.” She started crying. “My father is a good man.”
“Blake, please-”
She cut me off. “Please what? Listen? Why, so you can tell me what crimes you think he’s committed.” She crossed her arms but didn’t give me time to answer. “You think you know everything, but you don’t. You know nothing about my father.”
We know a few things . But she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear any of it.
She turned and ran to her room, leaving me struggling with what to do. I wanted to talk to her, help her see the truth, and then hold her and make everything better. But I'm the last person she wants to see right now .
Swearing into my cup, I fought back the urge to follow her.
Instead, I called John and relayed the few things she’d been able to tell me. Without names or specifics, it didn't help much.
Then I walked the interior of the house, stopping to listen at Blake’s door. It was quiet, so I continued walking.
I grabbed my book and sat on the couch, positioning myself so I could see the hall. And Blake’s bedroom door.