Chapter 10
LAUREL
My eyes fluttered closed.
The heat of Jason’s skin ghosted over my lips, threatening his kiss, and then abruptly it was gone. His embrace fell away and he stumbled back, tripping over the cord to his computer, dragging the laptop noisily across the tabletop.
It was like elastic had snapped reality back into place. Without his embrace, the room was cold and the weight of everything returned, except now the uncomfortable tension between us was wound tighter.
He stared at me with a mix of shock and horror.
“What was—?” I asked so quietly, it was almost inaudible.
“It was nothing.” His answer was loud. Overcompensating.
If we had kissed, the aftermath probably would have been less awkward than it was now. I struggled not to look flustered by his hot-and-cold attitude, and he peered back at me with distrust in his eyes.
Like I had tried to trick him.
I understood that we’d narrowly avoided making a huge mistake, but the accusation that painted his face? It was completely unfair. I wasn’t the one who’d leaned in.
It was so infuriating, I couldn’t stand to look at him for another second. He made absolutely no attempt to stop me when I turned and darted for my room. It was obvious he was relieved I was going, and that only pissed me off more.
Once I was in my room, I stripped off my clothes, pulled on a tank top and pair of cotton shorts, and curled up on the bed, wanting to shut everything out. Not that there was any chance of that happening.
My life was over. All my hard work was for nothing. Everything I’d given up, every sacrifice my family had made in pursuit of my goal . . . worthless. It was so fucking unfair, I choked on my bitterness. Anger, hot as lava, poured through my veins and tightened my muscles.
Seth, or Frey, or whomever he was—maybe he’d come after me, or maybe the organization he worked for would.
Fine. Bring it.
I’d like nothing more than to smash another laptop into his goddamn face.
If I had to give up everything, I’d do whatever I could to make sure it wasn’t easy on him. There was a fighter lurking inside me, and she was ready to take center stage.
For a long while, I lay on the bed and indulged in the fantasy where Frey wound up dead, so it no longer mattered what he’d told me. I’d return to the CBC, get back to work, and after a while no one would talk about that night in the theater or ask about my ordeal afterward.
My life would be normal again.
I’d be free of the marshal in the next room. The one I was sure had wanted to kiss me until he’d thought better of it. And in spite of how he annoyed me . . . shit, I had wanted it. Even with everything going to hell around me, there was a force pulling me toward Jason.
It was why I’d sought comfort in his arms. The gravity of him was inescapable.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape.
After living on my own for years, it was weird to suddenly see other toothbrushes on the bathroom counter. I’d awoken this morning and spent more time contemplating what Jason revealed. How I’d have to give up and disappear.
Once again, it filled me with anger, and I decided I’d live in denial for a little bit longer. I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, took a deep breath, and headed for the kitchen.
There was no sign of Jason, and I assumed he was still asleep.
Derrick hadn’t shaved, but the stubble dotting his jawline did little to visually enhance his age. “There’s eggs, if you want ‘em.”
I made an omelet and ate alone at the kitchen table. As I finished, Derrick moved to the chair across from me and glanced at his phone.
“Our supervisor will be here at nine.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh?”
“He’s coming to discuss relocation. Your ID made the OEO authorize a move, but Bill can explain it when he’s here.”
I studied the marshal on the other side of the table. I’d been so flustered by Jason, I hadn’t paid enough attention to this one.
“How long have you been a marshal?” It was a roundabout way to guess his age.
“Two years.”
“Do you like it?”
He paused as if no one had ever asked him that before. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
I nodded. “That’s good.”
Obviously, he was a man of few words. Yet when I looked deeper, I got the impression he wasn’t some eager-to-play-cowboy kid. This man was serious. Sharp and calculating. And he was older than he looked.
“Do you do a lot of these? Protection details?”
“No, I’m mostly high-risk prisoner transport.”
“What’s that like?”
“It’s boring, most of the time. But it can be dangerous,” he said, nonchalant. “During transport, you’ve got the greatest risk for escape.”
It felt like he wanted me to ask. “Does that happen?”
“A guy tried once.” He shrugged. “People tend to underestimate me. I guess because I look young or something.”
There weren’t any more photos to look at since I’d identified Frey, so I excused myself and went back to my room, intent on practicing.
It was far from ideal, but it was better than nothing, and losing myself in the work was all that mattered.
I pulled the shirt over my head, cast it on the bed, and then popped the button of my pants—
Derrick’s voice boomed from down the hall. “Jason, get her secure now!”
What?
There was a deep thump next door, like feet hitting the ground. Furious footsteps approached and my door burst open. A shirtless Jason stormed in, gun at his side and his face full of determination.
I was too startled to do anything as he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me with him toward the closet. He threw open the door to the small, empty space and yanked at the corner of the carpet. It was a false floor hiding a ladder that led down into darkness.
“Go!” he said.
I didn’t question him and descended the ladder as fast as my nervous hands would allow. He came down right behind me, cutting off any light to the room as he pulled the trap door closed.
It was pitch black.
The concrete floor was cold under my bare feet, but I didn’t dare move.
There was a small click as he turned on a flashlight, illuminating the space immediately around us.
We stood in an unfinished basement, pipes and ducts snaked across the ceiling.
In the center of the room was a staircase that led up to .
. . nothing. It had to be where the oddly placed linen closet was, converted to conceal the location of this basement. I would never have known it was here.
He didn’t say a thing, didn’t even look at me. Instead, he moved to a wall with a monitor and switched it on. Black-and-white images glowed on screen and cycled through the different camera angles. The front porch, the back yard, the living room.
I took a deep breath when I saw Derrick flattened against a wall, wearing a bulletproof vest and cradling a shotgun. The cameras repeated their sequence, but I didn’t see anything to explain what had set him on high alert.
Jason produced his phone from a pocket, tapped the screen, and brought it to his ear.
“Where’s the car now?” He listened to the other side’s answer and rechecked the monitor. “No, I don’t have a view of it.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, backlit by the television while my heart banged out a furious tempo.
“Understood.” He ended the call and finally turned his full attention to me. “We’ve got a car that’s done two drive-bys of the house in the last twenty minutes. It’s gone now, and we’ve got someone on it. But we’re going to stay put, just in case.”
“Is it him?” I asked.
“No.”
Relief was short-lived because now I had to face the reality I was locked in the dark with Jason and neither of us had a shirt on. In fact, his jeans weren’t even zipped or buttoned. He must have been asleep and yanked them on when he’d heard Derrick’s command.
He set his gun down on top of the monitor, making the picture bounce once. The danger outside was gone, or so he’d said, but what about the danger of our situation now? My breathing hadn’t slowed from its rapid pace, making me restless.
I wore one of my skimpiest bras because Caroline hadn’t given me any other option when she’d packed for me. Good God, I might as well have been topless.
My face heated when Jason’s gaze subtly drifted down. I didn’t mind him looking, and he was a man, after all. They seemed to be incapable of not looking. But then I got cold and crossed my arms over my chest to hold in a shiver.
He did up his fly, and I stared at the muscles in his strong arms. If he got to look, then so did I.
His defined abs disappeared beneath the boxers peeking out above the waistband of his jeans. Oh, man, had I been right. He definitely looked good under his shirt.
There was a tattoo on one bicep—a military insignia I couldn’t place. Like fast food and alcohol, visible tattoos were generally not accepted in the ballet community. Taboo. It only made him hotter, more appealing.
He took a step in my direction as he holstered his gun at his hip. He walked right up to me, only to reach into a box beside my feet and pull out a bulletproof vest.
“Put this on.”
“You think the car’s coming back?” I snatched the vest from his hands and fumbled to loosen the straps.
“No, but it’s freezing down here.”
The vest didn’t add much warmth, but at least I could cover up. “What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
I didn’t believe a word of it but said nothing.
The basement was equipped with a small arsenal. It should have made me feel safe, but the large, deadly looking guns only made me more nervous. Plus, he was standing before me, one hand on his hip, looking like sin in the flesh. I could see every flex and roll of the muscles in his powerful arms.
The ground felt unsteady beneath me, and I was so disoriented by my adrenaline and lust, the words just tumbled out. “I thought you were going to kiss me last night.”
My statement literally knocked him back.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His gaze refused to meet mine, and his voice was tight. “Nothing happened. If something had, I’d be out of a job.”
Right. Protecting me was his job. Maybe that was all last night had been, him offering comfort and trying to help me feel safe.
But what about the look he gave you in the mirror?
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said. “Last night was . . . hard for me. You’re right. Nothing happened, and I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
His expression softened. “Nothing to be sorry about.”