Chapter 22
AMELIA
Jude was asleep.
Jude was asleep on me.
I didn’t know whether to be touched or absolutely terrified.
The gravity of the realization wasn’t lost on me. Jude was asleep and had been for the better part of three hours.
And Jude Greear never slept.
Sure, he pretended to. But every hour, like clockwork, he would wake in a panic—gasping for breath—and wouldn’t go back to sleep until he checked the door, smoothed his hand over the floor where the cellar entrance could open, and made sure each window was locked tight.
The pattern always repeated until dawn.
Maybe it was hypervigilance. Maybe he was haunted. I had a feeling it was the latter.
Jude shifted as his breathing pattern changed. I waited for him to wake, but he didn’t.
Instead, he rested his head on my lap.
He had started on his side of the couch. After half an hour, he’d tilted his head, resting it on the back of the couch. Ten minutes later, his shoulder lowered. Then his eyes closed.
Slowly but surely, he sank down and stretched out.
I had never seen someone look so beautifully lethal. The intricate patterns of ink wrapped around his arms and hands, snaked up his neck, and crept behind his ear.
Given what I had seen when he was changing clothes, there were endless art pieces to explore.
And sweet baby cheeses, did I want to explore them.
I shouldn’t have wanted to. I should have conked him over the head with a lamp, grabbed the keys, and made a run for it.
But something told me to stay.
Long strands of light brown hair streaked with threads of gold fell over his closed eyes as he shifted on my lap, cuddling closer against my thigh. The soft breaths he exhaled through his nose made them dance.
Carefully, I brushed his hair out of his face and smoothed it back behind his ear, taking a moment to study the tattoos hidden there.
Jude jolted awake with a startled gasp. Dark eyes met mine, wide and full of terror. He opened his mouth to say something but simply moved his lips in silence.
“You okay?” I asked.
His eyes darted to the door, then to the windows. “What happened?”
What happened? Why did he think something had happened? Did he have a nightmare?
“Nothing,” I said. “You fell asleep.”
Slowly, Jude sat up and regained his bearings. “How long was I out?” His voice was hoarse and dry.
“I’d tell you if there was a clock in here.”
His attention dropped to the watch around his wrist. “Three hours? Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself.
“Nothing happened,” I said, trying to reassure him, though I wasn’t sure it actually helped. “You just fell asleep while you were reading. I haven’t moved from this spot.”
Jude’s eyes fell to my thighs, where he had been dead to the world. “Sorry.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he grunted as he pushed off the couch.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Even super-friendly kidnappers have to sleep, Jude. Don’t worry. I’ll wait until you’re awake to run. I’d hate for you to miss out on your beloved cardio.”
For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he dropped his head, smiling to himself as he went to the sink for a glass of water.
Well water was indeed an acquired taste. One that I had yet to acquire.
“I don’t know how you stomach drinking that,” I said as I turned back to the book I had been reading.
The tap cut off and Jude leaned against the counter as he took a long drink. “When you’re in the desert and you’re out of water, you learn to drink just about anything.”
Oh. He was chatty. Alright, then. Maybe he was just trying to make me forget that he had been sleeping on me like I was the cool side of his favorite pillow, but I was definitely going to take advantage of it.
“Military or mob?”
Jude chuckled. “Military. Valentine is especially particular about his water.”
I snickered. “Yeah, I should’ve known he was some kind of evil supervillain when he always had sparkling water beside his cocktails.”
“He tells everyone it’s imported. But it’s imported from Arkansas.” Jude cracked a smile. “I guess the old saying about money not buying taste is true.”
And for some reason, that made me laugh. It was like two people shit-talking the boss who made their lives absolutely miserable. “What branch of the military were you in?”
Jude’s laughter faded along with his smile. “Navy.”
“You don’t strike me as a sailor. I would’ve guessed the Marines.”
Jude pointed a finger at me. “That’s rude.”
I closed my book and set it aside. “What did you do in the Navy? I’m guessing the desert isn’t very hospitable to boats.”
Jude watched me, as if he was sizing me up to see what I would do with whatever information he was tempted to give me.
It was clear that he didn’t trust me, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why.
I wasn’t the bad guy here. I had done nothing to make him not trust me.
Well, except for the little stunt I pulled climbing out of the gas station bathroom window. But honestly, he needed to let that go.
If I was being truthful, I wasn’t convinced he was the bad guy either. Still, I couldn’t shake the side of him I had seen with my own eyes.
I couldn’t shake the fact that he had brutally beaten my brother, then claimed to want to protect him.
I couldn’t shake the fact that I’d watched him inflict such cruelty on a stranger . . . but he sat beside me on the beach for a heart-to-heart.
I couldn’t shake the fact that he had drugged me, abducted me, and ripped me away from my life.
I couldn’t reconcile the two sides of him. I had always relied on logic and order. But Jude Greear? Jude Greear defied every bit of it.
“Special Warfare,” Jude said.
“Is that how you know Cole?” I asked. “I’m guessing a mobster and someone who works private security are either both in the mob, or you met in the military and decided to put your skills to different uses.”
“Mob life wasn’t for him,” Jude said, his humor beginning to come back.
“So you were in the Navy together?”
“Just at the end,” Jude said. “Cole’s team—uh—they didn’t make it out. But he and his number two did. The other guy had to medically retire. Cole stayed in and was reassigned to my team. We did a couple deployments together and got out at the same time.”
There was something he wasn’t telling me. Jude rested his ass against the kitchen counter and braced his hands on the edge, but his posture was far from relaxed. It was as if invisible shackles snaked around his wrists, trapping him to the spot.
“Why’d you leave?”
Instead of answering immediately, Jude just looked out the window.
Much to his dismay, I had plenty of time to wait him out.
So I did.
“I went into the military thinking I was doing something good. Protecting my country. Making something of myself.” He dropped his head. “I left because I was just a pawn in some giant war game.”
“What drew you to your current line of work?”
“Pay’s good,” Jude said as he pushed off the couch.
“Where are you from? New Jersey?”
Those midnight eyes studied me again, the way he had when he told me his last name. “Here.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “You grew up here? In the cabin?”
Jude chuckled. “Not quite. Grew up in a little town a few hours away from here. Piss-poor area. No way out.”
“So that’s why you joined the Navy? It was your way out?”
Jude nodded.
“Being here must feel like going home.”
He glanced around the cabin. “Nah. This is better than home.”
I watched as he chewed on his lip and stroked his beard. “Whatever you’re going to say, just say it.”
He looked at my feet, then at me. “Put those sneakers on. I’ll give you the tour.”
I found myself reluctantly walking beside Jude, tromping through the leaves as we wound around trees, bushes, and fallen limbs. The little walk was the furthest I had been from the cabin since we had arrived. I hated anything outdoorsy, but I had to admit—it felt good to move and breathe fresh air.
The cabin was surprisingly clean, considering how often it sat unoccupied, but it was musty.
The mountain air was cleansing. Birdsong floated on the breeze as we trudged through the ground cover.
Jude had his hands shoved so deep into the pockets of his jeans that it seemed more like he was trying to keep his hands to himself than anything else.
“How often do you come back to West Virginia?” I asked. “You know—here or wherever you grew up.”
Rather than watching his steps, Jude was constantly checking our surroundings and looking over his shoulder. “It’s been a few years. I haven’t had much time off.”
“Does your family still live where you grew up?”
He shook his head. “I moved my parents away from here a while ago.”
“Because they wanted to move or because of who you work for?”
Jude tripped. “A little of both.”
“Do you talk to them often?”
“Used to.” He swallowed. “Before we came out here.”
“They don’t know you’re on the run?”
“It’s safer to keep them out of it,” he said, keeping his words quiet. “But I miss them.”
Memories of my parents danced through my mind. It didn’t hurt to talk about them quite as badly as it used to, but every once in a while, the grief caught up with me.
“It feels weird that you know everything about me. There’s nothing I can add to even the playing field . . .”
“You can still tell me,” Jude said. “You know—if you wanted to. I’d like to hear it from you.”
Jude took a slight left at a fallen tree. How he knew where to turn when there were no discernible walking trails was beyond me. The forest parted, opening up to the edge of the mountain.
“Watch your step,” he said as he offered his hand.
I took it, holding on for dear life as we slowly eased down a steep slope to a rock face that hung off the edge of the mountain. Jude switched hands, holding my left hand in his left hand and bracing my other arm in his hand as I took baby steps down toward the edge.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Careful, though.”
Finally, I made it down to the rock and immediately plopped down. I hadn’t made it this far just to fall to my death in a freak accident.
Rather than sitting beside me, Jude took the spot behind me. But he never let go of my hand. His bent knees bracketed my hips, and the heat radiating from his chest warmed my back.
It was. . . comforting.
The limbo of trying to decide what side of the spectrum of good and bad Jude fell on was exhausting.
Rather than fretting about it, we sat in silence and simply looked out at the view.
“My parents died in a helicopter crash right before I finished my undergrad,” I said. “Freak accident. They took an anniversary trip and were doing a sightseeing tour. There was some . . . mechanical failure. And they were gone. Just like that.”
His thumb smoothed over the back of my hand. “That’s shitty.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “It is.”
For some reason, his simple acknowledgment eased the grief. He didn’t try to explain it away. He didn’t give me well-meaning platitudes like “they’re in a better place” or “at least it wasn’t something slow like a terminal illness.”
“I have so many good memories of them. Our family was really tight-knit.”
“Having a photographic memory probably helps. You can hold on to the good times.”
“I have an eidetic memory. Not a photographic memory.” I picked up a pebble with my free hand and rolled it between my fingers. “I have short-term recall.”
Jude leaned forward, his lips brushing my ear. “Like when you’re counting cards?”
A slow smile crept up my lips. “Using your brain isn’t a crime.”
His chest rumbled against my back as he laughed. “And yet we’re on the run.”
I leaned back and reclined against his chest. Frankly, I thought he’d bolt. Jude had been skittish since our kiss.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and held me.
“I’ve never been on the run before,” I said as I tipped my head back onto his shoulder. “I feel like I should be scared of the situation. Scared of you.” I closed my eyes as the sun crept out from behind a cloud, warming my face. “But I’m not.”
Jude pressed a kiss to the back of my head. “You’re not?”
“No. I’ve been frightened by you, but I don’t think I’ve ever been truly scared of you.”
“I can’t say the same.” He tightened his arms around me as he whispered into my hair, “You scare me.”