Chapter Eight #2
Gia’s face flushed crimson. “He wants…me back.” The admission dragged from her mouth, coated in barbed wire and regret.
Again, his internal radar jangled. Women didn’t flee cross-country and bury themselves on a reservation because their ex still had feelings for them.
Unless the jilted lover was powerful. Dangerous .
“Did he hit you?” He kept his voice low, steady—even as rage filled him.
That frightened doe look shadowed her face, just like it had last night. He didn’t want to add to it.
She looked startled. “Hit me?” A quick shake of her head. “Not that.”
Again, a truth mixed in with unspoken layers.
Maybe he hadn’t beaten her, but there were other forms of abuse. Emotional abuse. Gaslighting. His father had perfected gaslighting his mom.
Caleb pulled into her driveway and parked. “What scared you enough to hide?”
Hesitation. Then, “He wasn’t the man I believed he was.” She shoved the door open and bolted toward her house, her movements jerky.
Her voice rang with conviction that time.
“Hold up.” He grabbed his Glock from the glove box and hurried to catch up. “Let me clear the place.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t know where I live.” Still, she unlocked the door and stood aside to let him enter first.
“How do you know?” He swept the living room and kitchen with a professional eye, then shut the front door and motioned her to take a seat on the couch.
“I think if they knew where I lived, they would have come here, not stumbled across me at a bar I never go to.”
She was too sure of herself. Like she had been when the kid in the pink cap had a knife to her throat.
He moved down the hall. Bathroom clear. Bedroom —
A brown Louis Vuitton suitcase sat next to the bed. He hefted it. Full of clothes, as he’d expected. The closet was nearly empty—just a few stray hangers. Dresser drawers were bare, too.
She’d been planning to disappear. Maybe still was, despite what she told his grandfather.
Dammit. Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a looming headache.
Running wouldn’t save her. She’d spend the rest of her life always looking over her shoulder. Always having to guard her secrets.
Tucking his pistol at the small of his back, he found her standing stiffly by the kitchen counter, watching him with wary eyes.
“You were leaving.”
Her chin lifted. “Why do you say that?”
“Full suitcase. Empty closet.”
She retreated a step, bumping into the counter. Flustered, she grabbed a pitcher of filtered water from the fridge and poured some into the bright yellow teakettle on the stove. “Tea?”
“No thanks. Just water if you don’t mind.” He accepted a glass with murmured thanks. “Give me a few days. If I can’t ensure your safety on the rez, I’ll help you disappear. My colleague at Dìleas can give you a new name. A new life. Somewhere you’ll be safe.”
A hollow ache burrowed beneath his chest. If she stayed on the rez, he’d at least know where she was and how she was doing. If he resettled her, he wouldn’t see her again. It wouldn’t be safe.
She crossed her arms, leaned into the counter, her gaze wary. “Why are you helping me?”
Because I didn’t help my mother.
He kept his tone level. “It’s what I do. ”
Her eyes dimmed. Behind her, the kettle screeched, belching steam into the air. Gia got out a tea bag and added it to her mug with the boiling water.
He had the feeling he’d disappointed her somehow. “You don’t deserve to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
“You don’t know what I deserve.”
What the hell did that mean?
The kettle shrieked, breaking the moment.
She turned her back to him, busying herself with the tea. Her hands trembled.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was rough. Weary. “I’m grateful for your help. I told your grandfather I’d stay, and I want to honor my commitment—to him, to the staff at the clinic, and to my patients.”
Caleb nodded. A surge of protectiveness and something hotter, more dangerous, stirred inside him. “I need to make a few calls.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” She scooted past him, brushing his chest with her shoulder.
The contact was slight, yet an electric current arced between them.
Gia froze. Her gaze locked with his. Wide and unguarded. Her tongue swiped across her lips.
His restraint snapped. Fuck it .
For once, he wasn’t going to do the right thing. Slowly, giving her time to back away, he lowered his head.
Her eyes fluttered closed instead.
He pressed his fists into his thighs to keep from reaching for her.
Their mouths met, tentative at first. Just their mouths. Testing.
He savored the connection. Because that’s what it was—a connection.
His tongue slipped out, caressing the seam of her lips.
She opened to him, and the taste of her—peppermint and prickly pear—made his head spin.
She had him off-kilter. And that wasn’t good.
He drove his tongue deeper and stepped into her, unleashing the control he had over his hands to allow them to slide behind her back and haul her into his body.
Hands pressed against his chest.
Immediately, he pulled back. Dropped his arms and silently kicked his own ass.
“Sorry,” he rasped. The vulnerability in her eyes tightened his throat.
She touched her lips, her eyes shimmering.
“Don’t be.” Her voice was the barest of whispers.
Before he could respond, she slipped away to her bedroom.
He stared after her. The only thing he had to offer Gia was his protection and temporary physical gratification. He wouldn’t be around long enough for it to be anything more. And if he made it safe for her to stay, Zach was better suited for her.
Something green slithered through his veins and burned in his chest.
Caleb exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair, and stepped outside.
He pulled up Nathan Long’s number.
“Yo, amigo.” Nathan’s Texas drawl rumbled over the line.
Dìleas’s VP of Corporate Security was a six-foot-six former SEAL whose ice-blue eyes, spiky hair, and perpetual five o’clock shadow made him look more like a member of a biker gang than a corporate executive.
“You still in Arizona?” His voice lowered. “Sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks.” Caleb cleared his throat. “I need your help. It’s not Dìleas business, so I’ll understand if you say no.”
“Well, now you’ve got me curious. What’s going on?”
“I need everything you can dig up on a Vincente Garcia in Miami. He owns a nightclub and some restaurants.” Caleb hesitated, then added, “And Gianna Barone, early thirties. She’s a medical doctor. Practiced in Miami. Originally from New York, I think. As soon as you can get it to me.”
Nathan’s easygoing tone disappeared. “You good, brother? You know Lachlan, Ryder, and I have your six.”
Caleb stared up at the endless blue sky, a curious lump in his throat. The three men who’d started Dìleas were as tight as blood brothers, but he’d never considered himself part of their inner circle.
“I’m good. Just trying to help out a woman with a problem that needs to be solved.” His fingers tightened around the phone. “I’ll be sticking around here for a few days, maybe a week. Ryder told me I could take the time.”
“Do what you need to do, brother. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can with the info you need,” Nathan said.
“Thanks, man.” Caleb ended the call.
With any luck, Nathan would dig up something useful he could use as leverage to get this Garcia to back off. Gia could stay on the rez and he’d return to the life he’d made for himself far from Arizona.
A vehicle approached. Caleb’s hand instinctively brushed the butt of his Glock.
Zach’s cruiser pulled up.
His cousin got out, striding towards him. “I just got a call from Gallup PD.”