13. Ethan
Ethan
“What do you mean he’s dead?!” I balked, staring at Jake from across the conference room table. “We just fucking talked to him!”
Jake's face went ashen, his broad shoulders sagging as he sank into his chair. "The police found his body this morning. Same... same way as the cow mutilations."
My hands started trembling. The room felt like it was spinning, the fluorescent lights too bright, too harsh. Marcus Greer was dead. The farmer who'd looked me in the eye and begged me to believe him. Who'd seemed so relieved that someone finally took his story seriously.
"Heart and liver?" I whispered, though I already knew the answer.
Jake nodded grimly. "And a message for the first time. Carved into his chest."
The blood drained from my face. I gripped the edge of the conference table, my knuckles going white.
This was exactly like all those cases I'd obsessed over for years. The surgical precision, the missing organs, and the messages left behind. My father’s murder was sloppy compared to them, but I actually saw his attacker.
It wasn’t until the police came to get his body that they found his heart and liver missing.
"What did it say?" My voice came out strangled.
Jake's brown eyes met mine, and I saw something there… fear, yes, but also a protective intensity that made my chest flutter despite the horror of the moment. "It said 'I see you.'"
A chill ran down my spine. I see you. The monster knew someone was investigating. Knew about me, about my questions, about—
"Ethan." Jake's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. He reached across the table, his large hands covering mine. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. You cannot write this article."
"What?" I blinked at him, confused. "But this is huge. A murder connected to the cattle attacks—"
"No." His grip tightened on my hands. "I'm writing it. I'm covering Greer's death, and you're staying as far away from this story as possible."
My reporter instincts flared. "You can't just steal my story, Jake. I interviewed him first, I—"
"This isn't about bylines," Jake said, his voice rough with emotion. "This is about keeping you alive."
The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. The way he was looking at me, like I was something precious he couldn't bear to lose... it sent warmth flooding through me despite the terror clawing at my insides.
"Jake," I started, but he cut me off.
"Promise me, Ethan. Promise me you'll let this go. I don’t want you to disappear like Danny did.”
His thumb traced across my knuckles, such a gentle gesture that it made my heart skip. Here was this strong, protective man willing to shield me from danger, and suddenly all thoughts of monsters and murders faded into background noise.
"I..." I swallowed hard, lost in those warm brown eyes. "Okay. If it means that much to you."
Relief flooded his features, and he smiled that devastating smile that made me forget everything else. "Thank you."
For a moment, sitting there with his hands on mine, I almost forgot about the box hidden in my closet. Almost forgot about my father's death.
The warmth of Jake's hands on mine was intoxicating, grounding me in the present moment when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.
His touch was so gentle, so reassuring, that for a few precious seconds I could almost believe that stepping away from this story was the right choice.
But then reality crashed back in.
"Jake," I said slowly, pulling my hands free from his grip. "How did you find out about Greer's body? The police haven't released any information yet."
Something flickered across his features, a look of surprise so quick I almost missed it. "I have contacts at the station. Been cultivating sources since I started this beat."
It was a reasonable explanation, but something about the situation felt off. Like he wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
"And they told you about the message? About the missing organs?" I pressed. "That's the kind of detail they'd keep under wraps in an active investigation."
Jake's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Like I said, I have good sources."
He wasn’t telling me everything. "I should go," I said, standing abruptly. "Process all this."
Jake rose with me, reaching out as if to stop me. "Ethan, wait—"
"I'm fine," I lied, already backing toward the door. "Just need some air."
His brown eyes searched my face, and for a moment I saw something there that made my breath catch. Not just concern or attraction, but something deeper. Something that looked almost like... lust
"I'll call you later," he said finally. "To check on you if that’s alright?."
I nodded, smiling back at him. “You know Jake, I’m not some delicate little flower.” I took a step forward, grabbing his large hand. “I can handle this. I’m not a newbie reporter you need to shield from the world.”
“That…” Jake sighed. “That’s not the reason.
And it’s not just about Danny either. Danny and I were just coworkers.
” He stopped, looking down at me with those big brown eyes that seemed to look right through me.
He had an intimidating presence that made me shiver in all the right ways, the heat of his body washing over me in waves. “I… well, I kind of like you, Ethan.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.
“I know you said you don’t want to get romantically involved with people at the office,” he added quickly. “I get it. I really do. But I can’t… well, I can’t help the way I feel about you either. I’ll respect your space but I’m feeling very… protective of you.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as Jake's words washed over me.
The way he was looking at me… intense, hungry, protective, it made every rational thought evaporate from my brain.
This gorgeous, powerful man was standing inches away, telling me he cared about me, wanted to protect me.
The warmth radiating from his body was intoxicating.
"Jake..." I breathed, my voice coming out softer than intended.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne. It was something woodsy and masculine that made my knees weak. "I know the timing is terrible with everything that's happening, but I needed you to know."
For a moment, standing there in the conference room with his intense gaze fixed on me, I forgot all about Marcus Greer's mutilated body. Forgot about the message carved into his chest. Forgot about the box of evidence hidden under my bed that I swore I'd never open again.
All I could think about was how Jake's protective instincts made me feel safe in a way I hadn't felt since I was fourteen years old. How his broad shoulders and strong hands promised security I'd been craving my entire adult life.
"I like you too," I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "More than I should, considering we work together."
Relief flooded his features, followed immediately by something that looked like hunger. "Yeah?"
I nodded, suddenly breathless. "Yeah."
He reached up, his fingers ghosting along my jaw with surprising gentleness for such large hands. "Then let me worry about you, Ethan. Let me keep you safe."
The rational part of my brain, the part that had spent years obsessing over supernatural murders, tried to whisper warnings. But Jake's touch, his presence, drowned out everything else. Here was someone offering to protect me from the very monsters I'd been chasing half my life.
Maybe it was time to let someone else do the hunting.
That same moment my phone buzzed against the table next to us, breaking the spell.
I glanced at the screen and my heart skipped for an entirely different reason. A text from Calder.
Calder: Had something come up and can’t do dinner tonight. Lunch tomorrow instead?
The timing couldn't have been worse. Here I was, having this intense moment with Jake, feeling his protective warmth washing over me, and suddenly Calder's name was lighting up my phone.
The mysterious and gruff garage owner who'd given me a ride on his motorcycle and made my pulse race in ways I didn't entirely understand.
Jake's eyes flicked to the phone, then back to my face. Something shifted in his expression, a tightness around his eyes that hadn't been there moments before.
"Someone important?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
I fumbled with the phone, my fingers suddenly clumsy. "Just... a friend. Someone I met at a coffee shop."
"A friend," Jake repeated, and there was something in his tone that made me look up. His protective intensity had taken on a sharper edge, almost possessive.
"Yeah," I said, tucking the phone into my pocket without responding to Calder's text. "It's nothing."
But even as I said it, I could feel the weight of the phone against my leg, Calder's message burning like a brand. Why did he have to text me right this moment? And why did my heart race just seeing his name? He’d made it very clear he was straight and there couldn’t be anything between us.
And yet, for some reason, he kept coming back.
Jake stepped closer again, his large frame blocking out the fluorescent lights. "Good," he said, his voice dropping to that low rumble that made my knees weak. "Because I don't like sharing."
The possessiveness in his voice should have been a red flag. Should have made me step back, question this sudden intensity. Instead, it sent heat flooding through my veins. After years of feeling alone, of chasing shadows and monsters, having someone want to claim me felt intoxicating.
"You don't have to worry about that," I heard myself saying automatically, even as Calder's text seemed to pulse in my pocket like a second heartbeat.
Jake's smile was devastating, all white teeth and masculine satisfaction.
"I'm glad to hear that, Ethan." He leaned down, placing a small kiss on my cheek before heading for the door. “Let me know when you’re ready for a real date and not just french fries on the way to a crime scene,” he smiled. “I’ll treat you right.”
The feel of Jake's lips lingered on my cheek as I watched him leave the conference room, his confident stride carrying him through the doorway without a backward glance. I stood frozen, my hand unconsciously rising to touch the spot where his lips had been.
"What the hell just happened?" I whispered to the empty room.
My phone felt like a lead weight in my pocket. Calder's text message still unanswered, Jake's confession still ringing in my ears, and the horrifying news about Marcus Greer spinning in my head. It was too much. All of it was too much.
My hands trembled as I pulled my phone out again, staring at Calder's message. Why did I feel this pull toward him? This strange connection that made no logical sense? And why was I suddenly caught between two men when romance was the absolute last thing I should be focusing on?
Instead of letting the questions consume me, I let out a long sigh and began to type.
Me: Lunch works for me, but only if you pick me up on your motorcycle again.
Calder’s response was almost immediate.
Calder: I’ll pack a second helmet.