Chapter 4
Peyton
I leaned back in March’s Porsche on the way to my place. God, I loved the feel of the seats in this car. “Hey. We need to pick up my bike.”
“Good idea.” He hit the brakes and made a U-turn.
March had just gotten off the phone with Duke Hawk, asking him to tell Serena and Grace that I was okay. He’d also relayed the entire hospital visit, which I could have done without, and most embarrassingly, he reported that he was staying overnight at my place.
He blew out a loud, exasperated breath. “You know, you should stop lying to me.”
“What do you mean?”
Then, I got the inevitable question. “At the hospital, why did you lie and say you didn’t remember anything?”
“It’s all fuzzy, very fuzzy. I remember waking up with you carrying me like some gorilla.” I looked out the window. “You said I was mugged, but you didn’t tell me exactly what happened.”
We turned the corner onto Tito’s street, and I gasped. “My bike.”
March slowed and drove the length of the block. My bike was gone.
Crap. I blew out a long breath. “How much shittier can today get?”
“I’m sorry about your bike,” he said, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But look on the bright side. Today could have been much worse.”
“I don’t feel lucky. You try getting a concussion and see how you do.” I tilted my head toward him. “Feel the bump on the back of my head.” When he didn’t, I kept after him. “Go ahead, feel it.”
He finally ran gentle fingers over my hair—such a sensitive touch. “You banged it pretty bad.”
Shivers ran through me. I shouldn’t have dared him to touch me. What was I thinking? Now I had him saying nice things to me too. Stupid, Peyton.
“You want to talk about a bad day?” he challenged.
“You could have gotten back a bad CAT scan at the hospital and be in the operating room right now with them cutting open your skull to save your life. Or that idiot with the knife could have slashed you so bad that I couldn’t get you to the hospital before you bled out. That’s how I define a bad day.”
“I get it,” I admitted. It had been a shitty turn of events, but he and the SEALs he’d gone on missions with had surely ended up with even worse days.
“You’re breathing, you’re not seriously injured, and you’re in a car with me and I’m not even hitting on you. I’d say that’s not too bad a day.”
I had to ask. “Did you have a bad day where you lost a teammate on a mission?”
He cringed and gritted his teeth. “Yes, and it’s an experience I hope you never have to endure.”
“Yeah.” I’d lost people, but in a different way that I couldn’t explain. With that thought, I agreed with him. “Today is a bad day, but it could definitely have been worse.”
I was about to give him directions when he made a right turn, in the direction of my condo.
“Do you know where I live?”
He nodded.
“That’s creepy.” I didn’t mean the words to sound mean. They just came out that way.
“It’s the job.”
I crossed my arms.
“Why don’t you want to deal with the police?”
I hadn’t seen this change of subject coming. “You got my watch and money back. What’s the point?”
He glanced over at me for a second. “You strike me as a very caring person—”
I cut him off. “Stop trying to be nice to me. You promised you wouldn’t hit on me again.”
“Go back on a promise? Never. I was going to ask why you wanted to let those two dirtbags get away with it so they could go on to prey on other women? That’s not what a caring person would do. Now, is that mean enough for you?”
This wasn’t fair. My head hurt, and I hadn’t prepared to answer these kinds of attacks.
“And this isn’t the first time,” he continued. “When the police came by SpaceMasters, you also made yourself scarce. So what’s the problem? Are you wanted for some crime?”
I’d worked up an answer during his litany of accusations and now let it fly. “They killed my boyfriend, okay?” It was a lie, but it sounded heartfelt and would put an end to his questions.
Silence.
But once again, his hand ventured over the console.
It would have been out of character to not accept the gesture, so I took his hand and felt that zing again. His hand wasn’t soft, but it was warm, and when I closed my eyes, the contact soothed me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened?”
Ugh. I was wrong about my response cutting off the line of questioning. “The Atlanta PD pulled him over. They say he got belligerent when they told him to get out of the car and tried to take one of their guns. They shot him dead.”
March squeezed my hand.
I looked over, emphasizing my words. “He had so much to live for, and they shot him dead. So, I stay as far from cops as I can. I don’t trust them. I don’t want anything to do with those… those…” I didn’t add the swear word that was on the tip of my tongue.
He rubbed gentle circles on my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“My boyfriend would never have pulled a stunt like that. Never.”
“What was his name?”
I drew a blank, until my eyes caught the street sign we passed. “Lloyd.”
March didn’t pull his hand away.
I didn’t pull away either. Holding hands with him felt too good. It was something I hadn’t allowed myself since I left. I justified breaking the rules by telling myself a grieving person would welcome the solace of touch and not reject it.
March hit a button on the steering wheel. “Call Lucas.”
“Hey,” Lucas answered. “Cobra said Peyton is okay, but he didn’t have the details.”
March glanced my way. “Better. Mild concussion. I retrieved her money and watch, but not the purse. I’ll be staying with her for the time being.”
“For one day,” I corrected.
“Glad to hear it wasn’t anything worse, Peyton,” Lucas said. “Make it two days. Getting hit on the head can have complications.”
“I already promised the doc forty-eight hours,” March said. “So I’m on it.”
“Then send Constance over,” I countered.
“Zane will take care of you,” Lucas insisted.
So much for my request. I tried again. “He doesn’t need to bother.”
Lucas sighed audibly. “Peyton, I must insist. You are important to Grace, and she’s part of the Hawk family. So you’re important to us, and until the threat profile changes, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I understand.” I might not want March underfoot, but Grace had mentioned that negotiating with Lucas was like dealing with a rock—no matter what you said, the rock didn’t budge.
“You got some of her things back,” Lucas said, returning his attention to March. “Do you know who was involved?”
“I got names,” March said, “but they’re in the wind now. The cops didn’t think Peyton could provide enough detail to pursue the case.”
He thankfully didn’t tell Lucas his suspicion that I was lying about my memory.
“We need to know if they’re related to Marku or Russo.”
“I’ll check tomorrow and let you know,” March replied.
“Take care of our girl,” Lucas said before ending the call.
We were nearing my building, and I asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to. “You think it might be mob-related and not random?”
The Russo and Marku organized crime families had just weeks ago put my boss, Grace, through hell with multiple attacks and kidnapping attempts, all on account of her worthless cousin, Elliot.
March shrugged. “I doubt it, but it’s possible.”
“I thought that business ended when Elliot blew himself up.”
“Me too, but we messed up a deal they had cooking, and it’s possible they’re not over it.”
As March parked, a shiver ran through me. I would have rather had him insist it had to be random.
Zane
Holding Peyton’s hand after learning of her boyfriend’s death had calmed her. After all that had happened tonight, starting with the game of pool and bull riding, she needed some comforting.
“Thanks for the lift,” she said.
I grabbed my go-bag from the car. I was new to this, but had been warned to have toiletries and a change or two of clothes in the vehicle in case I got sent out of town or on a stakeout without any notice.
Peyton shivered against the evening chill. Taking off my coat, I draped it over her shoulders.
“Uh, thank you.”
It was a small victory to have her accept something from me.
We walked up to a multi-story condo building, which was very nice—nicer than I would have expected on a personal assistant’s salary. The elevator ride was fast and quiet. But I understood. What she had been through tonight would be a shock to most anyone.
“How long have you had this place?” I asked as she unlocked the door.
“Four months now. It’s not mine. I’m housesitting.” She swung the door open.
I pulled her back, then took out my weapon. “Behind me.” I caught her sigh.
“You expect somebody to be here?” she asked.
“Better safe than sorry.” As I cleared the condominium, I could see this was an older couple’s home, a couple with two grown children from the looks of the family photographs. It was neat and elegant, except for the office, which was mad-scientist kind of messy and cluttered.
“It’s clear,” I announced when I finished. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous.”
“My job is to be cautious. This is a nice place.”
“Very nice. I was lucky to find it.” She moved toward the kitchen. “I think I’m going to take some aspirin for this headache.”
Seems she hadn’t been through this before. “Tylenol only, no aspirin,” I corrected. “It’s in your discharge instructions.”
“Sorry. I misspoke.” She opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. “I know better.”
“The doctor also said you have to follow all my instructions.”
She went to the refrigerator. “And now you’re a comedian? I know she didn’t say that.”
I followed her. “You know you didn’t have to get a concussion to have me over. I would have come earlier if you’d invited me.”
She pulled out two cans of ginger ale and held one up.
I nodded, walked to her, and accepted it. “Thanks.”
“I thought you SEALs stuck to your promises.”