Chapter 23
Bess
“Morning.”
Squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in, I peek at Hugo sitting down on the edge of the bed, already dressed. In his hand he has a mug that says, Rock On, and is emanating the most beautiful aroma of any morning.
I push myself up and hold out my hand.
“Coffee…”
I close my eyes and take a sip, letting the memories of last night’s frantic scramble flood back.
The rushed packing, sneaking into the garage and hiding in the old pickup with Ragnar’s panting steaming up the windows until one of the security guys and a female deputy pretending to be us drove off in Hugo’s cruiser.
They were supposed to head for a roadside motel outside Winston, about halfway between Silence and Spokane.
The hope was for them to lure the bad guys right into the arms of Special Agent Mancuso’s colleagues, who would already be waiting at the Riverview Motel.
By the time we got the signal the coast was clear, the street was quiet, and there were no vehicles parked outside the house, other than a single patrol car.
Instead of heading south, toward Spokane, we headed north. I imagined a hunting shack somewhere in the mountains when Hugo mentioned he knew a place, I wasn’t expecting an entire house. A familiar one at that.
We only drove ten minutes out of town when he turned the pickup onto a dead-end mountain road with two houses I’m very familiar with: the Colter place, and the house Savvy built but sold to Phil when she first moved to town.
She only lived in the house for a short while before moving in with Brant Colter on the farm a mile or so up the road, but she uses the place as a guest house for visitors and built her music studio over the garage.
Phil and Savvy’s father were waiting for us when we turned into the driveway.
I swear the main reason I slept like a log, after being scared out of my gourd last night, was because I couldn’t have felt any safer with Hugo and the dog, a state-of-the-art security system, Sheriff Colter senior and his collection of guns just up the road, and nobody knowing where we are. Not even Savvy.
“Apparently, Phil keeps the place stocked with the basics,” Hugo informs me. “And Ragnar already loves it here. Lots of new smells and plenty of greenery for him to mark.”
“What time is it?”
I look around for my phone but can’t find it.
“It’s nine thirty, and your phone is on the kitchen counter, charging.”
Nine thirty? I can’t remember the last time I slept in that late. I’m usually up before the crack of dawn to start…
“The coffee shop,” I cry out, scrambling out of bed. “The cleaning crew was coming at nine this morning.”
Hugo plucks the sloshing mug of coffee from my hand.
“Taken care of,” he calmly states. “Lola and Emmet are looking after things.”
“How…”
“Lola called early this morning, you were still deep asleep, so I answered your phone.”
The urge to object dissipates as quickly as it rises, and I plop down on the edge of the bed beside Hugo, reclaiming my coffee mug.
“So what’s the plan? What are we gonna do all day?”
I realize what a suggestive question that is when I catch the positively lecherous look on Hugo’s face.
“I could think of a thing or two.”
Not that his expression left much to the imagination, but his comment cements where his head is at.
I would’ve thought I’d be annoyed by that kind of innuendo, but I’m not.
In fact, I’m finding it a turn-on he seems to find it difficult to keep his hands or his eyes off me.
I can honestly say I’ve never—to my knowledge—been the subject of someone’s blatant desire like that. I’ll admit, it’s a bit heady.
I’m seriously contemplating spending the entire day in bed with my handsome Viking, when the dog starts barking and a voice carries through the house.
“Yoohoo! Anybody here?” I can hear Phil call out from the other side of the house. “I hope y’all are dressed and decent and home, because I’ve got my hands full here and your dog is fighting me for the damn bacon.”
“I’ll go,” Hugo says, pressing a firm kiss to my lips. “You get dressed. It’ll be fun undressing you again later.”
I watch him leave the room, appreciating his casual attire of faded jeans and loose-hanging flannel shirt over a white tee.
As much as I appreciate the dark jeans and navy shirt of his uniform, I like this laid-back look even better on him.
It exposes a side of him I’m eager to explore.
I have visions of long hikes, barbecues, campfires, and quality time spent with friends.
It takes me five minutes to splash some water on my face, give my teeth a quick brush, finger comb my messy do, and get dressed.
I find Phil sitting at the kitchen island, a mug of coffee in front of her, chatting away with Hugo.
He immediately turns his head with a faint smile on his lips, reaching out for me and pulling me to his side.
I find I no longer blush or get embarrassed at the public displays of affection.
Quite the opposite, actually, I enjoy the way he publicly claims me, almost challenging those present to make anything of it.
And I claim him right back, leaning into his side with my hand on his stomach as I smile at Phil.
“So what did you bring?”
“Just a couple of things I thought you might need.”
Hugo snorts. “A couple of things? It took me two more trips to haul all the groceries inside. You’d think we were preparing for Armageddon or something.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Phil scolds him with a wave of her hand. “I just thought Bess might want to make use of this well-outfitted kitchen and try a few new recipes.”
Hugo pulls open the door leading to the laundry room and pantry, and points to the floor.
The small space is packed full with a giant sack of flour, a big bag of regular and one of icing sugar, several large containers with spices, baking powder, powdered milk, chocolate chips, various kinds of nuts.
Stacked on the washer and dryer are containers with fresh fruits, a couple of brand-new baking trays, a box of piping bags and tips, and a roll of parchment paper.
“There’s eight pounds of butter in the fridge,” Hugo informs me.
I shoot Phil an incredulous look, even as my hands start to get restless.
“Well…I have a vested interest in getting you up and running as soon as possible,” she announces, getting up off the stool and making her way to the front door where she stops and looks back.
“And just so you know, I’ll be happy to taste test anything made by your very talented hands.”
Then she slips out the door before I can even form the words to thank her.
Hugo chuckles. “That’s not all, she brought over enough food we could hole up here for a month and wouldn’t have to come up for air.”
I’m still eyeing all the goodies she left me in the pantry when Hugo comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist. Then he drops his chin on my shoulder and his gaze follows mine at my baking bounty.
“What are the chances I can drag you away from here and back into bed?”
I bark out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, dropping a light kiss on the shell of my ear before letting me go. “I was afraid of that. Cockblocked by a bag of flour.”
Hugo
“I’m listening,” I assure Savvy.
But only barely, because the sight of Bess in the kitchen in her element, her face flushed as she hums some vaguely familiar tune as her hands create magic, is a tad distracting.
As are the unbelievable aromas filling the house.
There is not a chance in hell I’ll ever get back the six-pack of my youth if this is my future.
My boss texted me a few times this morning, demanding to know if Bess was all right after last night’s scare, which I assured her she was. But this time she called with some updates on the case, which I was eager to hear.
I already spoke first thing this morning with Carson, making sure I caught him before he’d hear about what happened at the house through gossip.
He was obviously upset, but I was able to assure him we were both fine and any damage to the house would be fixed.
Last night, Roy Battaglia had already offered to talk to Nate about replacing the back door.
I also talked with Cody’s dad, Larry, who very kindly offered Carson could stay as long as needed, which was a weight off my back.
But I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Phil and Bess since then and started feeling quite disconnected from what was going on in the world out there.
“What’s happening?” I prompt her.
“Well, other than the fact I haven’t had a fucking wink of sleep, there’s been no luck so far on the subjects.
That vehicle left down the street from your place turned out to be stolen earlier last night from the employee parking lot at a fast-food restaurant in Winston.
The theft wasn’t discovered until the end of the owner’s shift.
My guess is the goons had a secondary vehicle somewhere else in your neighborhood.
One they could get to in an emergency if, for whatever reason, they needed to split up or the first vehicle was made.
I’ve got a few deputies canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who may have seen something or security cameras that may have picked up their movements. ”
“It’s pretty much a moot point though,” I suggest. “Whatever vehicle they may have used will have been discarded by now. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a couple of getaway vehicles ahead of us.”
“I know,” Savvy agrees, “it’s likely, but they’ve made mistakes before, and I don’t want to risk skimming over steps and potentially missing something important.”
I can’t argue with her on that, but sometimes I hate how slow the wheels of justice can turn. Although, you won’t hear me complain about having Bess to myself while we wait.
“But they haven’t shown up at the motel yet. Your decoys are going to hang out there for a bit longer and Mancuso’s team is monitoring. If anyone shows, they’ll be all over them.”
I hope they do, but at this point I don’t think they’ll simply walk up and knock on the door. I’m pretty sure they’ll be a lot more careful in their approach than they were at my place.
“One interesting development though,” she adds. “Apparently, Mancuso had a talk with his supervisor and got approval to offer Ken Choi a deal.”
At that, my ears perk up. Bess’s brother could do a lot of damage to the Lotus Squad if the feds could convince him to roll over on his former gang members.
“Think he’ll take it?”
“Don’t know,” Savvy returns. “I haven’t been able to get a word out of him. Heck, he even refused to speak to Bess last night.”
“Priceless. The asshole blabs to a fellow inmate, putting himself and Bess on a hit list, and now he wants to blame her for trying to save them both?”
“I know,” Savvy soothes. “He’s a dick, but I’m hopeful Mancuso can get somewhere with him. Give the guy a chance to get himself and his sister out of this situation.”
“I sure hope so.”
“I’ll let you know,” she promises, ending the call.
My anger at her brother evaporates when I glance over at Bess, who is piping icing on the carrot pecan cake she said she was making next.
She’s so engrossed in doing what she loves, a little smile plays on her lips.
Man, I could watch her dance around the kitchen forever.
What’s in her heart is reflected on her face.
When her eyes catch on me a moment later, she lays it all on the table for me with just a look.
My mouth spills over.
“God, I love you.”