Chapter Twenty-one – Crazy ‘Bout You #2
Sandy pulled up and got out of her van, looking like she’d been yanked from bed.
Her eyes were puffy, and her salt-and-pepper hair was a mess, but her crime-scene jumper was buttoned to her chin, and she snapped on a pair of gloves as she neared us.
Cleaver got her caught up, and she took her kit over to the bench, taking pictures.
“Join me at Beckett’s place when you’re done here,” Cleaver told her, and she just waved a hand in his direction. He turned to Maisey and me. “Get in. I’ll take you back.”
I opened the front passenger door of the sheriff’s rig for Maisey, sliding a hand down her arm in reassurance as she got in.
Her hands were shaking as she reached for the seat belt, and that tightened my chest right back up.
She was afraid, and I was man enough to admit I was too. But my fear wasn’t for me.
I climbed into the back with Vader, feeling like the criminal Cleaver usually placed there. In attempting to get what I wanted, I’d brought danger to Maisey’s door.
But if this wasn’t Del, I wasn’t sure who else to look at next. Carter, possibly.
The list of people who’d want to hurt Maisey was infinitesimally small because she was exactly what Chelsea had always called her—a saint. Or as damn near one as anyone I’d ever met.
But thinking of Chelsea reminded me of her text messages to Maisey the other day.
The cold and calculating cruelty that had shaken Maisey.
But Chelsea was nowhere near Swift Rivers.
And what would she get out of terrorizing her sister, other than the perverse pleasure she’d always gotten?
I couldn’t see a win for Chelsea out of this.
It could only lead to bad press if news got out that an up-and-coming actress was bullying her little sister.
No, we were infuriatingly back to square one.
? ? ?
It was after midnight by the time Cleaver and Sandy left, and I was able to lock the door behind them. Maisey stood with her arms wrapped around her waist and that same wide-eyed, haunted look she’d had on the street outside Frank’s.
I tugged her to me, and it took a moment, but her shoulders relaxed, and she hugged me back.
“You can drop me off at the station tomorrow morning and take my car to work,” I told her.
“I can walk,” she said.
“No.” It was a fiercely uttered command that had her stiffening. “No way you’re walking around on your own right now, especially if you’ll be off late. I can use the rig at the station for whatever I need during my shift.”
“What if your car gets vandalized too?” she asked, pulling back to look up at me.
The idea of her being here alone with only Vader and her injured father while someone came at my SUV or the house or her made my stomach roll.
Cleaver had promised he and the other deputies would drive by regularly, but that wasn’t going to prevent someone from waiting until they’d turned the corner before they struck.
What if whoever this was broke into the house? Vader would go nuts, but what if they injured my dog to get to her? What if it hadn’t been her dad who’d spread the Sterno over his kitchen? What if all of this had nothing to do with Maisey and me at all?
“Maisey, do you think this could have something to do with your dad?”
Confusion drew her brows together. “Dad?”
“The fire at the house started before all this. And it’s been your car targeted, which might be someone using you to send him a message. Whoever it is would assume you’d tell him about it, and my door was painted after he moved in.”
“I can’t imagine anyone coming after Dad.”
“Maybe someone he interacted with for his job?” I asked. “Did he ever drive for someone shady?”
“You’re asking if he was working for criminals? Delivering what? Drugs or guns?” Her eyes turned stormy. “Absolutely not. I mean, the company Dad works—worked—for handled all the actual clients, but if Dad knew they were moving anything illegal, he wouldn’t have stayed with them.”
She was likely right. I might not have the highest opinion of Lewis after what he’d done to Maisey, but I’d always considered him a straight arrow.
“Besides, we both said this feels immature. I can’t imagine drug dealers writing a stupid note or smashing a windshield,” Maisey added.
I couldn’t disagree. But nothing else really made sense either.
Not even landing back with Delilah as the perpetrator.
Sure, her personality fluctuated dramatically day to day.
You might get work Delilah when she was at the mayor’s office, or flirty Delilah at the bar, but the truth was, I still considered her more friend than foe.
And when Del was actually pissed at you, she usually came straight at you with a nasty barb and, occasionally, bared claws.
My head hurt from all the possibilities. Possibilities we wouldn’t be able to resolve tonight.
We needed a few hours of rest to clear our heads. But I also couldn’t stand the thought of Maisey going to the guest room and tossing and turning by herself. So, I pulled her hand into mine and tugged her down the hall—not in the direction of her room, but in the direction of mine.
Her feet slowed, dragging a bit. “What are you doing?”
“I won’t get any sleep if you’re alone in another room. I’ll just lie there, worrying about you.”
She huffed. “Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be at the firehouse for four days, Beckett.”
My chest tightened all over again. “Don’t remind me.”
When we stepped inside my room, Vader pushed past us to join the cat, who was sleeping in a tight ball on the foot of my bed.
He licked the kitten before curling up beside it.
His natural prey instincts should have told him to chase the cat, but instead, he was a complete pushover.
A goner. It was pretty sappy, but the truth was, I was as much a goner for Maisey as my dog was for a cat.
Those thoughts and the word sappy squeezed my lungs instinctively. An old habit. But I reminded myself it was just a reflex, born of years of allowing my past to rule me.
But if I wanted more with Maisey, I had to retrain my body.
I had to change what I believed about relationships and expose my heart. Take a risk. Because if I didn’t, and I continued to pursue whatever this was, I’d only end up hurting both of us.
Maisey dropped my hand and tugged her ponytail. “Look. I don’t think this is a good idea.”
It probably wasn’t. Not when I hadn’t figured out how to undo years of bad habits. Not after a night filled with rage and frustration and fear.
“I won’t promise to keep my hands to myself.
” Her mouth popped open at my comment, and it made me smile for the first time since we’d heard the smashing of her windshield.
“But I will tell you I have no intention of making love to you tonight. Not with ugly emotions still clinging to us and you dead on your feet after a fourteen-hour shift and a chase down Main Street. When I touch you, it’s going to be when we’re both firing on all cylinders, have hours to explore each other, and aren’t fighting off panic. ”
She bit her lip. “I need to wash up. Get my pajamas.”
“You can use my bathroom. And I’ll grab you a T-shirt.”
She finally let out a laugh, light and soft and utterly Maisey. “Beckett, all of my things are literally down the hall.”
“Humor me, my Maisey-girl. I’m feeling the need to keep you in my sights.”
It wasn’t just about her safety, although that was the most important part. It was also because if I let her out of my sight, I might retreat. I might let the dead parts of my heart take back over.
I opened my closet, pulled a folded Swift Rivers Fire Department tee from my shelf, and handed it to her. “I’ll even let you use the bathroom first,” I told her with a wink.
She didn’t argue. She just grabbed the shirt and disappeared behind the door.
When I’d designed the bathroom suite, I’d put in two vanities and a shower with dual heads, even though I never brought women here.
I’d convinced myself that it was for the resale value of the house, except everyone knew I’d never sell this place.
Had I always, subconsciously, expected Maisey to be the one to use it with me?
Was this really why I’d always stepped between her and Cleaver or Sweeney, or any of the other men who’d looked at her with desire all but pouring from them? Not because I didn’t think they were worthy of her, but because, somewhere deep inside, I’d been trying to keep her for myself?
I was assaulted by dozens of memories. Happy moments we’d spent tucked together in my treehouse as kids.
Frustrating ones when I’d found out she’d put herself out there, and some douche had taken advantage of her.
The disappointment I’d felt knowing she was going to the homecoming dance with Carter.
Joy when I’d heard she was moving back to Swift Rivers.
The simple truth from last night hit me all over again. I’d always wanted her and simply denied it. Denied us both. I had to stop this ugly cycle. I had to keep her, or I had to fully let her go so she could find the happily ever after she wanted.
She came out of the bathroom with her cheeks pink and her hair swirling around her breasts, and the beauty of her sliced through me.
And I knew the truth. I could never let her go. I could never handle seeing some other man touching her. Just the thought of it hurt far worse than the lack of oxygen to my lungs ever had.
I wanted to take my T-shirt, that looked damn good on her, toss it to the floor, and show her exactly how she should expect a man to touch her.
To give her the passion and sin she said she craved.
But I’d meant what I said about not making love to her tonight, even before I’d rewritten our entire lives in a few short breaths.
So instead of wrapping my arms around her and kissing her until she had no breath left, I retreated to the bathroom in an attempt to pull myself together.