Chapter 27
Nick wanted to beat the crap out of someone—namely, Brad Denton, who they’d figured out had trashed his bedroom because Malcom Davy was still holed up inside his house, according to the cops watching him, and hadn’t left in days.
He shot a look at Poppy, who was seated next to him in his pickup. Something was off with her, too, which was understandable considering what she’d been through, but he had a feeling there was more going on in that pretty head. She was closed off from him and shut down.
Three days after Denton had come into his house, Nick was driving to talk to a prospective client. Sam was busy, so he’d had to go. He wasn’t leaving Poppy alone, so she’d come without complaint, which was another red flag. Nick knew her well enough now to know she would usually argue.
“So you don’t get carsick, then?” he asked because she was looking down at her laptop, which was balanced on her knees.
“No. I can write anywhere.” Her voice was flat and monotone.
Nick ran his eyes over the long curls beneath the hat he’d made her wear before they left the house. She’d put it on without protest.
“What music do you listen to?”
“A mix of songs I’ve collected over the years. Some rock, others classic.” She shot him a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
With four siblings, Nick had developed a spidey sense when something wasn’t right with them. He felt it now with Poppy. The only time she let go was when he made love to her. Then she was uninhibited and totally his.
“What?” she asked.
“What?” he parroted, shooting her a look.
“You made a noise.”
“Just thinking.”
She started tapping on her keyboard again.
“Poppy,” he said when they stopped at the lights.
He felt that little dip in his gut when she turned those green eyes on him. Her sweater was the same color today and made them even brighter.
“What are you up to?”
“What?”
“You’re not planning on running, are you?” Her eyes dropped to her laptop. “Because if you do, I’ll follow, and when I find you, I’m going to be pissed.”
“I—ah, no.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
“If I want to leave, I can, Nick. You can’t stop me.”
“Sure I can, and I will, because you are not leaving my protection and letting anyone get their hands on you again.”
“Okay.” She smiled, but her eyes were on his left ear. “I won’t then.”
He wasn’t reassured. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m wounded.”
“No, what you are is sneaky, and I know you’re planning something.”
She sighed, and he heard the cover of her laptop shut.
“If you hadn’t come to my book signing, and I hadn’t been attacked that day in the street, none of this would have happened, Nick. You and your family would be safe.
“Is that what you wish?” Nick demanded, hurt. “That you’d never found me again?”
“Yes… no.” She sighed. “Yes, then you would all be safe. No, because I wouldn’t have had these amazing days with you.”
“At least you’re showing honest emotion,” he said with less heat. “And even though I hated seeing you hurt that day, the outcome was that you stopped running, and we have this.” He jabbed a finger at her and then into his chest. “Which is fucking awesome.”
His phone rang then, stopping the conversation, and he took the call through his car speaker. “Hey, Billy, you’re on speaker, and Poppy’s beside me.”
“So don’t swear and talk about how hot she is, then?” Billy asked.
Poppy snorted.
“I have news, and it’s good,” his cousin said. “We located Brad Denton and have him in custody. His fingerprints were also on the picture left on Nick’s bed.”
She only made a small sound, but he heard it.
“Where is he now?” Nick asked.
“At the station. I’m interviewing him,” Billy said.
“Don’t suppose I can come along?” Nick asked.
“Not in this lifetime or the next, so stay away. I just wanted Poppy to know we have one of them. Davy knows he’s being watched, so he’s behaving.”
Nick shot Poppy a look. Her hands were clenched around the edges of her laptop in a white-knuckled grip.
“So someone actually has eyes on Davy, right? They’ve knocked on his door and spoken to him?” Nick asked.
“They are watching him is all I know, but I’ll check on that.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
“Bye, Poppy. Don’t take any crap from this idiot.”
“I won’t. Bye, Billy, and thanks.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“It’s okay not to be, you know, Poppy. This shit has been dogging your life for years. It’s all right to be angry and scared.”
“I know, and it feels like I’ve been both those things for so long.”
“It’ll be over soon, Tinker Bell, I promise.”
He pulled into a parking lot before the large open space that would soon have offices. Directly across the road was a café.
He leaned closer, and brushed her lips with his. “Come on, you can take notes for me.”
“I’m working.”
“Tough.”
He got out, went around to her door, and opened it. She’d locked it. He had the keys in his pocket, so he unlocked it and pulled it open.
“Very mature of you, Miss Sylvester.”
“I don’t want to come with you. I’m not a builder-type person, and I know nothing about wood.” Arms folded, chin elevated, radiating irritation—she looked like the kids in the Atherton clan when they were being asked to do something they didn’t want to.
“No time like the present to become a builder-type person and learn about wood. FYI, we’re a construction company, so we deal with more than just wood and builder-type people.”
He unclipped Poppy’s seat belt and lifted her out, standing her on her feet.
“You’re always handling me and towing me about the place.”
“That’s because you’re so small and easy to move around. Plus, I like you, which is why I want you with me, and believe me when I say that’s a novelty. I tire of people real quick.”
“Nick, please let me stay in the car.”
“Nick?”
He turned to see a tall, long-legged brunette coming toward them. Shit. She wore nosebleed heels and tight jeans. On top was a long, draped knitted thing that he had no idea the name of.
He turned, blocking Poppy. He and Cassie had spent two months having fun a year ago, and lots of that fun had been in his bed.