Chapter 3
Stella’s sheets smell like the perfume she wears.
That intoxicating scent. Whatever it is, I want to smell it for the first time again and again.
I stroke her arm as she stirs in her sleep.
It seems to comfort her. She’s the littlest spoon I’ve ever slept next to, and sometimes, she kicks in her sleep.
I don’t mind the bruised shins, though. I haven’t slept so soundly in years.
But the sunlight cracks around the edges of her blackout curtains and she stretches, before she feels me next to her. She tightens up, then sighs and relaxes again. Her soft voice murmurs, “Good morning.”
“Did you forget you had company?”
She giggles, “Maybe.”
“Been a while for you, too?”
“Yeah, definitely. Too long.”
I smirk, “Well, you’re pretty short. I was worried.”
It takes her a second, then she gives a little snort and giggles again. “Truth be told, you almost bottomed out.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nothing that wouldn’t be fixed by pancakes. You game?”
I roll her onto her back and ask, “Stella, seriously, tell me if I hurt you. I don’t—"
She smiles languidly and shakes her head. “I’m the good kind of sore, I promise.”
I can breathe again. “Well, that’s fair, I suppose. I think I wrenched my back last night trying to keep up with you.”
She laughs hard and smacks my arm, “Liar. You’re obviously way more fit than I am, I’m sure keeping up with me was no problem. You practically had to do all the work.”
“Not when I was on top. You were a maniac. I’m not even sure how you move your body like that, but I guess that’s probably why you’re sore.” I get another giggle out of her and it’s the best way to start my day.
She yawns, then asks, “You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Come on.” She sits up, and her naked back is a sight to behold.
She has those low back dimples just above her ass, and I want to dig my thumbs there, while I grab her hips and take her from behind.
It’s like her body was made for sex. Truthfully, there isn’t an inch of this woman that I don’t enjoy.
Stella catches me staring, smiles, and says, “I’ll make pancakes. ”
“I thought maybe we could hit the diner.”
She wiggles into flannel pajamas and says, “I like to cook, Jordan, and I haven’t really had a chance to do it much lately. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t want you to think you had to cook for me.”
Her smile lights up the room. “It’s my pleasure. Meet you downstairs. Hopefully, the dogs haven’t torn everything up.”
After I dress, the pops of bacon sizzling tell me we’re having more than pancakes.
Coffee is heavy in the air, and I hope it’s not one of those flavored ones.
When I get to the first floor, the dogs are chowing on Sugar’s food.
She says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t even think about feeding Sugar, and Max joined in. ”
“No, I don’t mind at all. Sugar, don’t let Max take all your food, darlin’.”
The yellow lab wags her tail at me and watches my little man eat out of her dish. She seems happy for the company.
I ask, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Nope, almost ready. Coffee?”
“God, yes.” I nod, and she sets me up. “That’s a fine cup of coffee.”
She laughs, “Thank you. It should be. Kona is damn expensive.”
“I’m usually a Folgers guy myself, so—"
“Oh. Oh god. Why?” Stella appears stricken.
I shrug. “You get used to it in the Marines.”
“Ah. Well, aside from better healthcare, soldiers should also get better coffee from the government, because that’s just abusive.”
I laugh. “You get used to a lot of abuse in the military.”
The pancakes are perfectly delicious, like the bacon, and I am so glad she said no to the diner. I was too sleepy to realize it would have been dumb to take her there. What would Katie say about me bringing a girl there? I’m not thinking straight. She wore me out.
Stella asks, “What do you have on tap for the day?”
I look at the clock on the stove and sigh, “Well, I’m late for work, but it’s a volunteer job, so I doubt they’ll fire me.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
She bites her bottom lip for a flash, then says, “Oh?”
“Almost since I moved here. When I bought the farm, I found myself with time on my hands. I don’t keep animals, and many of the plants are native to Virginia, so most of what I do is reap the harvest, preserve what I can for winter, and make sure there aren’t any pests or other harmful situations.
Sometimes I grow a crop or something, but most of the time, it’s pretty hands—off.
I’m not the type to sit around, I like helping folk, and when the fire department asked for volunteers, I stepped up. ”
She smiles, then her phone flashes. “God, sorry. I’m so used to eating alone, I have no manners…” Her brow furrows as she reads the text. Stella’s demeanor changes entirely. “You know Wes Jennings?”
Oh, shit. “Yeah, I do.”
“What the hell was this, Jordan? What did you take pity on the poor Witness Protection chick? Was last night a pity fu—"
“Just wait a minute—"
“No. Tell me what the hell this was. Am I your assignment, because I gotta say, nailing your assignment is not professional, and I’m going to raise holy hell about this. I will get you fired!”
“Stop, please, just put the phone down.” I gently push her phone hand down, and she lets me.
Good sign. “I don’t work for Witness Protection.
Wes is a friend of mine. I didn’t know you were one of his assignments until after we kissed last night.
When I went to hit the head, I texted him to find out what was going on, because I kept hearing a hum in your house and noticed the cheap surveillance equipment in the cabinet.
I knew it couldn’t be your stalker, because of the difference in quality, and that was the only other thing that made any sense. ”
Her arms are crossed, and she’s madder than hell, but she says, “So, you were interested in me before you knew?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She slumps into her chair at the table and puts her head in her hands. I walk behind her and pat her back, but she flinches. “Please don’t.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what to do. You’re upset. And it’s my fault.”
“Of course, I’m upset! Jordan, you don’t understand, my life is complete bullshit right now, and it has been for three years.
I am constantly stressed out, always afraid, permanently vulnerable, and then last night, I thought, ‘Gee, this hot guy is into me, and dammit, I deserve a treat, it’s been three years!
’ and now I find out, I was not only physically naked with you, but you know my trauma too, and I don’t know you well enough to share that with you, so now I feel extra exposed, and I don’t like it! ”
I take a deep breath and sit on the other side of the table.
“When I was thirteen, I helped some older guys rob a house right before Christmas. We took everything, all their presents. There were little kids in that house, and we stole their Christmas. Every year for the past thirty years, I send those kids, well, now, grown adults, an anonymous present. I don’t know them, or anything like that.
But I do keep track of them, so I can do that.
I can’t make up for what I did. Every Christmas is special and if you take one away, you can’t get it back.
Can’t fix it. Honestly, it eats away at me every year around this time. ”
She shakes her head, confused. “Why did you tell me that?”
“Because now you know my worst secret. It seemed only fair.”
Tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to hide them away. “That’s your worst secret? You were a juvenile delinquent?”
“Well, yeah. I went into the Marines right after high school and stayed there until I retired a couple years back.”
Stella’s bitter laugh sends a chill up my back. “God, I wish that was my problem.”
“Wes didn’t tell me what happened to you, and you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But if you want to unburden yourself, I’m listening.”
She says flatly, “You’re late for work.”
I shrug. “Let them fire me. I’m one of eight guys in this town who is fit enough for the job.”
Her laugh warms up a little bit, before she sighs.
“A little over three years ago, my partner said he was working on expanding the business. In scents, everything is about your sourcing. Lavender from France, vanilla from Mexico or Madagascar, green tea from different tiny farms in China, and so on. I only work with the highest quality ingredients, and distill and mix them all myself, so I can guarantee the product. We were doing very well, for a time. So well, in fact, that I was going to start up an internet version, with an extensive questionnaire to help customize everything.” She finishes her coffee, then pours bourbon into the same mug, and drinks.
“What changed?” I ask.
“My partner said he was working a deal with some guys from Russia for wildcrafted Siberian Fir essence and other exotics that are hard to come by. I was thrilled, so I let him run with it, because he spoke Russian and some other languages that I don’t.
I came into the shop one night, I forgot something.
I still can’t remember what it was…” she brushes another tear from her cheek and blurts, “And that’s when I saw what they were really doing. ”
A gnawing sensation in my gut made me interject, “Drugs?”
She shakes her head. “Guns. Lots and lots of guns. My partner had kept them in my storage room, right under my nose. No one had expected me to show up that late at night, so everything was going on in the open. My partner was arguing in German, and at first, I thought, well are they arguing? It’s a forceful language, maybe I’m judging them.
And of course I was, because there were dozens of huge guns around.
Then, he shot the guy. Dead. In my storage room. ”
“Oh hell, Stella, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs fast, as though she’s trying to drop the guilt from her shoulders.
“Turned out, they had sold guns all over to warlords, cartels, whoever wanted guns on the black market. My partner was in a huge network. It had been going on for quite a while, I later found out. The authorities thought I was in on it, so when I went to them, they arrested me. Took a while to explain; no, I’m not a gun runner. I’m just stupid.”
I shake my head, “Please don’t ever say that about yourself in my presence. You’re not stupid.”
“Well, what do you call it, Jordan? They were in my damn storage room,” her bright blue eyes burn in anger.
“They were obviously good at what they do. You’re a normal person. You wouldn’t think to look for guns in your essential oil storage room.”
She laughs at herself, “I guess not.”
“How did they cover the smell?”
“You mean the carbony, chemical gun oil smell? Coffee.”
“You didn’t notice the coffee?”
She smiles, “In the scent industry, you keep a lot of coffee around. It refreshes the scent organs in the olfactory system, so you can keep smelling different scents. I used to keep dog food sized—bags of coffee back there to help with smelling everything.”
“That crafty bastard.” I sit back in my seat, wondering how common it is to cross gunrunning with the scent industry.
I know people use coffee to mask marijuana scents, but I never thought of it for guns.
I reason it out, “And so the gun scents were covered, too. Huh. Your partner was clever, I’ll give him that. ”
“Oh, he really is.”
“So, he’s your ‘stalker’?”
She nods. “I didn’t know what else to call him and keep you out of all this. I’m sorry you know. I hope this doesn’t put a target on you, too.”
I shrug. “I’ll be fine. I chucked all that fancy equipment, so I doubt they even know I’ve been around. Besides, I’m much more worried about you. Any idea when this will be over for you?”
She asks, “Wes was really light on details, wasn’t he?”
“It was just a short text.”
“Well, they’ve made some arrests in the gun smuggling ring, but there are more to come.
So, until it’s cleaned up, it seems I’m on the hook for his crimes.
Riker is very clever. He goes from extradition—free country to extradition—free country, rarely coming stateside.
And they can’t find him, so…that’s that. ”
I nod. “What was your life like before all this?”
She grins, and it stirs something my in chest.