Chapter 8 Luke
LUKE
My fingers dug into the towel, strangling the terry cloth, because at the moment, it was the only thing I could hold on to. The grip on my restraint was about to break.
“I asked you a question,” I clipped.
Scarlett jutted out her chin but didn’t answer.
Fucking hell. I was either going to kill her. Or kiss her.
I’d leapt from the shower, my gut screaming that something wasn’t right. I’d swiped up the towel, haphazardly wrapping it around my waist as I’d hustled to the balcony, arriving just in time to see Scarlett by the door.
The zipper on her backpack was stretched so tight it was ready to come apart. Had she stuffed her entire dresser in there? Where exactly was she going to go?
“Scarlett,” I growled.
She didn’t budge.
So I crowded close, planted my hand on the door’s face and shoved it tight before twisting the deadbolt. Locked.
Her face was tipped up to meet my gaze, and even in the dim light she was stunning. Even though I wanted to lecture her up one side and down the other for attempting to leave, the woman stole my breath.
Her scent—citrus and soap—filled my nose and I backed away. One step. Two. Then three. She was too close. I was too keyed up and needed a minute to pull my shit together. I’d gone to the shower for a fucking reason. And despite the brutally cold water, I was still hard beneath the towel.
Scarlett had tormented me with that silky hair, those blue eyes and her magnetic smiles for months. I was a strong man, but there was only so much I could take.
I balled the towel tighter, keeping my fist in front of my groin to conceal the bulge. Thankfully it was dark, otherwise I doubted I’d be able to hide my arousal from her.
“Where are you going?” I asked. “Why?”
“I just . . . it’s time.”
“ ‘It’s time,’ ” I mocked, my molars grinding together. “Are you serious? You can’t leave here. It’s too dangerous.” Did she have a death wish?
She rolled her eyes. “It’s been months. Nothing has happened.”
“Because no one knows where you are.” Because I was doing everything in my power to keep it that way. Keeping the vultures from circling so Scarlett could find peace.
“No one cares.”
I scoffed. “Do you have any idea how many people are watching this house?”
“Please,” she deadpanned. “No one is watching the house.”
“Get away from the door,” I barked, turning my back to her and dragging in a long breath. My nostrils flared as I summoned every last shred of patience. When I glanced over my shoulder, she still hadn’t moved. The distance between us evaporated in a split second and I towered over her.
But I didn’t touch her.
I wouldn’t touch Scarlett again.
Unless she begged me to.
“Get. Away. From. The. Door.” I swallowed hard. “Please.”
“Fine,” she muttered, sidestepping me for the living room. The backpack landed on the floor with a thwop.
God, I didn’t want to have this conversation. Especially wearing nothing but a wet towel. But there was no more putting it off. It was my fault Scarlett didn’t understand the risks. Maybe I should have told her from the beginning. A mistake I’d correct tonight.
I walked to the kitchen and flung open the fridge.
Behind its cover, I adjusted the towel, making sure it was secure.
Then I let the cool air rush over my damp skin, willing my cock to stand down.
There was a sports drink on the second shelf, an extra I’d brought home from the vending machine at the station.
I yanked out the bottle, twisted off the cap and, with my back to Scarlett, chugged the entire thing, using those few precious seconds to think of anything other than the woman whose gaze bored into my bare shoulders.
With my erection partly under control, I set the bottle aside and closed the fridge. Then I stalked to the living room, the newly arranged living room—hadn’t missed that on my way in tonight—and faced Scarlett from a safe distance of three feet away.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Lies. “Scarlett, what happened? What made you want to leave? Was it because I was out? Because I’m sorry. Plans came up last minute and there was no way for me to get here and tell you. And it’s not like I can call.”
Scarlett’s eyes dropped to the floor.
That was answer enough. She was pissed that I hadn’t come home like normal. In her shoes, I probably would have been too.
“I’m sorry.”
She waved it off, still avoiding eye contact.
“You can’t leave.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Agent Maria Brown with the FBI stops by my office daily. And every day, she asks about your whereabouts. She wants to find you, Scarlett. She’s persistent. This is costing them time and resources, which tells me they’re desperate.”
Scarlett looked up and there was a crease between her eyebrows. Something I’d learned meant she was nervous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Oh.”
Was that a good Oh? Or bad?
I pointed toward her bedroom and the side of the house that was closest to the tan home next door. “Guess who lives in that house?”
“I don’t know. Some lady who likes quilting.”
“How do you know she likes quilting?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Sometimes I peek past the curtains and watch the neighbors.”
I swallowed a curse. She’d been spying? Christ. Hopefully no one had noticed. Though if the FBI had realized she was here, she’d have already been dragged out. And if the Warriors knew, she’d have already been dead. Not a mental image I cared for, so I shoved it aside.
“The neighbor next door is not just some lady who likes quilting.” If she even liked quilting at all. “That house was empty until two months ago. Also exactly the time that Agent Brown started coming to my office. Do you remember hearing a moving truck? Notice anyone unpacking boxes?”
“No.”
“Because no one lives there. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that the lady you see is an undercover FBI agent.
” More time and resources, all to find Scarlett.
I doubted they’d bugged the house, probably because they hadn’t been able to get a warrant, but the FBI seemed to be here to stay.
Not that I could prove it. But my instincts were rarely wrong.
The color drained from Scarlett’s face.
That wasn’t even the worst of it.
“For over a month, there have been regular sightings of Warriors in town. They haven’t done anything or made a move, but they make sure someone from the garage sees them. Presley and Shaw were eating at the diner when a Warrior came in two days ago.”
Scarlett gasped. “Is she—”
“She’s fine. He came in, made eye contact, then he strode out with an omelet to-go.”
“Shit,” she hissed.
“Isaiah and Genevieve live down the street.”
“Who?”
“Isaiah. He works at the garage. Genevieve is Dash’s sister and a lawyer in town.
They don’t know you’re here, but they’ve been on alert.
Everyone has. Genevieve came home early last week and saw a Warrior parked three doors down.
He was just sitting on his bike”—I pointed to the floor—“watching her house.”
Scarlett dropped her gaze to the floor. “Then I should go. I can’t put these people at risk like this.”
I scoffed. “You’ll be picked up within an hour.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I do know that. We’re lucky someone hasn’t decided to come inside and check for themselves.
Somehow, the Warriors must think you’re hiding out with one of your sister’s friends.
The FBI suspects me but without a warrant or cause for one, there’s nothing they can do.
But the bottom line is that it’s not safe for you to leave this house. ”
She shook her head. “But I don’t want to keep you from living your life.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t need to be here, entertaining me. If I was gone, you’d be free. You can live your life. Be with friends. Go on your dates.”
Dates? “What dates?”
“Tonight. You went on a date, right?”
“No, I went to meet Emmett at the bar.”
“Who’s Emmett?”
“A buddy of mine. He works at the garage with Dash. He used to be a Tin King and I wanted to talk to him about the Warriors.”
We’d been on our second beer, playing a game of pool, when Emmett had stepped close, his voice covered by the noise from the jukebox. Even on a Monday night, The Betsy was packed with people ready to party.
Better hurry up and let me beat you so you can get back home. She’s waiting.
I’d blinked, jaw slack, then laughed. Emmett hadn’t outright asked if Scarlett was here. His statement might have been to trick me into admitting it, but there’d been something in his gaze that told me he already knew. Maybe all the guys at the garage knew she was here.
Maybe it was just a matter of time before the Warriors figured it out too.
The clock was ticking and the most important thing to do was keep Scarlett hidden.
“What did Emmett say about the Warriors?” Scarlett asked, but before I could answer, she held up a hand. “And don’t say nothing. Don’t keep me in the dark. Please.”
I sighed. “The Warriors haven’t said anything. They haven’t asked around about you. But it stands to reason that’s why they’ve been in Clifton Forge. They want you found.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “And the FBI?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Agent Brown won’t tell me anything. But they’ve been here for weeks. That’s not a good sign.”
“Damn it.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her shoulders curling forward. “I thought it was over. I thought . . .”
“Thought what?”
“I thought they’d forgotten about me,” she whispered and the hopelessness on her face broke my heart.
I stepped closer, unable to keep my distance. “You’re unforgettable.”
Her blue eyes were so unsure. The confident, vibrant woman who’d invaded my home, turned it inside out, had withered right before my eyes.
“I should go. I should disappear. Or maybe I should just . . .” She shook her head.
“Should what?”
“Go home to Chicago.” Her voice was so quiet I’d barely heard her. But when the words registered, rage began to boil in my chest.