Chapter 9
JASON
That was a fucking disaster. Maybe I should let Caroline replace me.
I shouldn’t have listened to Laurel’s conversation or barreled into her room when I realized she wanted me gone, and I certainly shouldn’t have put my hand on her. I could not make myself let go.
You’re irritatingly attractive.
Her words played on repeat, tumbling through my mind.
The excitement it gave me was all kinds of inappropriate.
I’d tried to push her away, even when I wanted her near.
And I didn’t trust anyone else to take over her protection detail.
I was the best, and didn’t she deserve that?
Hadn’t she earned it with her toughness?
Like an idiot, I’d thought she couldn’t see me when she’d lifted her sculpted leg high into the air, moving like it was effortless for her. Fuck, it was wrong, but I wanted those legs wrapped around me. I’d stood there lusting after her and realized too late she’d seen it all.
No wonder she felt uncomfortable.
Caroline lifted an eyebrow when I returned to the living room.
“She said it’s fine,” I mumbled, but she didn’t look like she believed me. She disappeared into Laurel’s room to confirm.
The girl who found me irritatingly attractive stayed there even when Caroline left. Every once in a while I’d hear a soft thud or the dresser rattle, sounds of her moving around. It was hard to get my head around the notion that my witness was dancing in the next room.
It went quiet after a while and stayed silent long enough for me to believe she’d gone to bed for the night, which allowed me to relax to a degree. Though I was tired, I’d rather keep my interactions with her limited, so I offered to take the first night watch.
My plan backfired horribly when she appeared in the living room dressed in regular clothes again, her hair still damp from the shower she’d taken.
She walked past me and went to the fridge.
The bottle of beer with the familiar label on the door rattled when she pulled it open, drawing her attention for a moment.
It must have been left over from some previous use.
“You can have it if you want,” I said.
She made a face. “No, thanks. Osterh?gen tastes like swill.” She hesitated. “What?”
The smile on my face must have set her on edge. “Nothing,” I said. “You just didn’t strike me as a connoisseur of beer.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she retrieved the half-eaten burger and sat at the empty spot beside me at the dining table, making a production out of finishing her meal.
“Are you wanting to look at more photos?” I asked.
“Yes.”
It was nice to have a witness who was proactive. She was a victim, but she didn’t seem to dwell in self-pity, which often happened. In my experience, most witnesses were career criminals and weren’t much better than the people they were hiding from.
The database was still running in the background of my laptop where she’d paused it.
I minimized the two other case files I had open, first the one on Driskell, and then the one I hadn’t looked at in months.
I’d opened it by mistake, but when her cold hands gripped my forearm, I wondered if maybe I’d done it subconsciously.
Her account of the suspect had given me a sense of terrible familiarity I’d ignored at the time.
“Wait.” Her gaze was fixed on my screen. “Go back to that.”
Dread formed in the pit of my stomach and traveled upward to tighten my chest when I reopened the file on Frey.
“You’ve seen him before?” Part of me hoped her answer was no because anything else meant her life was going to get much more complicated.
“His hair’s different, but that’s him.”
Her conviction was undeniable as she peered at the picture, the one that had been taken several years ago in an interrogation room. Frey wouldn’t be in the mug shot collection. He’d never been booked.
“You’re sure?”
Her eyes were the most vibrant blue as she gazed up at me. “Who is he?”
“Laurel, are you sure?”
“Yes. As sure as I can be from a picture.” Her hands were still wrapped on my arm like she didn’t realize they were there.
“The name he was using at the time this picture was taken was Frey. He’s the man who killed my partner.” I had to remind myself to tack it on. “Allegedly.”
I didn’t just believe it; I fucking knew. Too bad there wasn’t a shred of evidence to tie him to Hannah’s murder.
“What?” The word was tight and weak from her lips.
“My partner was securing a house we’d seized when Frey showed up.
He must not have known we’d taken possession.
She hauled him in for questioning, and he wasn’t too happy about that.
But since we didn’t have anything to hold him on, he was released, and the next morning she was found dead in her apartment. ”
I knew I should stop talking, but I couldn’t. She had that effect, eroding my control.
“Frey left Hannah to die slowly and painfully with an untraceable bullet in her stomach. He vanished overnight like a fucking ghost. No fingerprints or DNA from the murder scene, no witnesses, no hits on facial recognition. All I have is one picture from the security camera in the interrogation room,” I said. “And you.”
Her grip tightened on my arm.
“Now that I’ve identified him, what happens?” she said. “I get to go home?”
I’d let her operate under the idea that she could go back to her life once this was over for too long. “When we catch him, you testify.” It was time to stop avoiding it. “You’ll go into WITSEC, which means a new identity and a new life.”
“What? No.” Her hands were gone from me, and she straightened in her chair. “It took me years to get my principal spot. I can’t just start over somewhere else.”
I’d told her that she’d have to move without warning, leave her friends and family behind forever, and take a new name, but all she could worry about was her career.
Remind you of anyone?
“You won’t be able to do that anymore.” I delivered it quietly, like it’d somehow lessen the blow. “You’d be too visible.”
She didn’t have any outward reaction, like she’d decided not to accept it. “What if I refuse to go into hiding?”
“You’re not going to do that.”
Her haunting eyes were edged with annoyance. “Why not?”
“Because the Serbian crime syndicate Frey works for will have you killed. They’re probably looking for you right now.” The second it was out of my mouth, I wanted it back. I didn’t mean to scare her, but it was important she grasped the severity of our situation.
Of her situation, my brain corrected.
“The moment he confessed to shooting the judge,” I said, “that can’t be undone. He took the life you had away from you. And it might not mean much now, but when you testify, you can do the same to him.”
She stopped looking at me then. Her gaze went vacant as she succumbed to the overwhelming realization.
“I’ve spent my entire life working to get where I am.” Her voice was so small, it was heartbreaking. “How the hell am I supposed to just give that up?”
I didn’t have any answers for her.
An unfamiliar ache banded across my chest.
She stood, moving slowly and measured as if she were trying very hard not to fall apart, and it drew me to my feet as well.
It was so much easier when the witnesses weren’t innocent.
Easier when they’d partly brought their bad situation on themselves, placing themselves in an opportunistic position to witness a crime.
And it was so much easier when the witness wasn’t Laurel Hayward.
She’d be transferred out of my detail soon, maybe faster now since she’d identified Frey.
That . . . bothered me.
It bothered me so much more than it should, this thought that she’d be gone in another day. I tried to convince myself it was only because of her link to Frey, but I was fooling myself. Shit, I had to get a handle on my inappropriate feelings about her.
And then out of nowhere, she stepped forward and buried her face into my chest. My arms folded around her like this was a familiar action we’d performed countless times before.
She trembled, shaking from the emotions flooding through her, and she grabbed a fistful of the shirt I’d thrown on this morning.
Was it taking everything she had to keep herself from breaking down?
I wanted to tell her she was strong. Tough. Brave.
But I couldn’t do anything. I’d gone on autopilot when she launched herself into my arms, and my brain was in turmoil. I liked the feeling of her in my arms.
Her body was warm and fit perfectly against mine. One of her hands hooked up around my neck, pulling me even closer, tighter, clinging to me as if she were about to be swept away.
I hoped she was too distracted to notice the way my hands had settled on the small of her back in a weird, comfortable feeling that I told myself I didn’t enjoy. I let my presence be overpowering and reassuring, wanting it to make her feel—what?
Safe?
That was the last thing she should feel in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said, composing herself. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked up at me, causing the spark between us to crackle with intensity. When she sucked in a sharp breath, I felt it with every cell in my body.
No. The word was loud and angry in my head.
I wanted to kiss her.
Her lips fell open, breathless, as if she were encouraging me. She drew her arm down slowly from my neck to join her other hand that was square on my chest, where she’d be able to feel exactly how it rose and fell.
With anxiety, though.
Definitely not with excitement or anticipation.
I’d gotten pulled from fieldwork for punching a witness. I could only imagine what would happen if Bill found out I’d kissed one. Because it was what I’d wanted to do from the moment I’d set eyes on her. Maybe kissing her would release the strange spell she held over me.
But that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen.
I wasn’t going to lose my job over her. Plus, she’d been through enough. She certainly didn’t need my bullshit on top of it. Yet my body moved without my approval, tilting my head and leaning in to place my mouth over hers.