Chapter 13
LUKE
Scarlett and I didn’t speak of the video, the Warriors or Jeremiah again. We spent four days on the river, savoring each other and pretending like her confession hadn’t happened.
But it was on my mind. Our minds.
I wasn’t the kind of man who made wishes, but if I had one to make, it would be to stay here. Stay on the river with her forever and let the outside world disappear.
It wouldn’t. But . . . I wished.
Because I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen on that video. The violence. The murder.
And Ken Raymond. The man who’d been tied to the chair.
His face had been so bloodied and swollen, it had taken me nearly the entire length of the video to put it together.
But toward the end, one of the Warriors had grabbed a fistful of Ken’s hair, tipping his face to the ceiling.
And there had been a birthmark, a purple circle about the size of a dime, on the underside of Ken’s jaw.
My gut had been right. When Ken had been found on the riverbank and we’d learned his home was in Ashton, I’d worried there might be a connection to the Warriors. Now there was.
They’d murdered him. Those fuckers had murdered him and deserved to pay. But why kill him? What was his connection to the gang? What had he done to deserve that beating?
He hadn’t died in the chair. Scarlett had left Ashton about two weeks before Ken’s body had been discovered.
The Warriors had made sure to keep Ken alive and breathing so that when they tossed him into the river, his lungs would fill with water.
His cause of death had been drowning, but only because someone had thrown him into the river in the first place.
The river’s beating had hidden the injuries from the Warriors.
The autopsy hadn’t been exact, but the coroner had estimated Ken had spent multiple days in the water before washing to shore.
Hell, maybe they’d let him heal up a bit so he’d been awake when they shoved him into the icy water. Sick bastards.
Ken had managed an indoor shooting range and gun shop in Ashton. Maybe that had been his link to the Warriors. Maybe he’d been into drugs. According to the autopsy, there hadn’t been any substances in his system, but all of my assumptions had flown out the window the minute I’d watched that video.
Did the Warriors know Scarlett had been there? Was that why they’d been in Clifton Forge? Or were they clueless and still hunting her because of Jeremiah’s stolen drugs?
My guess was the latter. If they knew that Scarlett had evidence that could send them to prison, they wouldn’t have been so docile in their visits. They would have torn my town apart to find her because Tucker Talbot wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Prison was exactly where a motherfucker like Tucker Talbot deserved to rot for the rest of his life.
Scarlett had the video to make that happen.
Except giving it to the FBI would mean she’d lose everything. They’d make her testify and then strip her identity for witness protection. Actual witness protection, not the version where she lived in my house.
Scarlett Marks would cease to exist anywhere but in my heart.
Two months ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. If she’d shown me that video, I would have escorted Agent Maria Brown to my home and handed over Scarlett without question.
But that was months ago, before she’d captured my heart.
Later. I put it away until later and enjoyed the tail end of our trip.
This week had been refreshing. No hiding. No pretending. Other than the occasional moment when I found her staring off into space, the worry line between her eyebrows deep, she’d relaxed on the river. She’d found some peace.
Scarlett had needed this vacation more than I had.
As expected, she loved it out here. She was constantly turning her face to the sun. She giggled when we cruised through a set of rapids and the water splashed on her skin. She was never in a hurry to turn in each night when the stars were out in their magnificent force.
And as far as rafting trips went, this was the best time I’d ever had on the Smith.
God, I didn’t want this to be the last time. I didn’t want this to be one of the last memories I had with her.
Later. Put it away.
With Scarlett’s eyes on the riverbanks, I lifted an oar out of the water, then I brought it up as high as it would pivot in the oarlock before slapping it down on the water, sending a splash of cold water onto her shoulders.
She gasped, her mouth forming a perfect O before flattening as she cast me a smirk. “What was that for?”
I shrugged. “You were looking a little flushed. Thought I’d help cool you down.”
“You’ll pay for that,” she warned, taking the hem of her tank top in her hands. She tore it over her head, her blond ponytail flying. Then she laid it out on a cooler to dry, leaving her in just a bikini top.
Exactly as planned.
Scarlett was more beautiful now than she’d ever been. She grew more beautiful each and every day. Her face was flushed and over the week, she’d developed a tan. It brought out a small line of freckles on her nose. I’d taken to kissing them whenever I had the chance.
Her hair was in kinks—what did women call those?
beach waves—and the texture thicker than when it was straight.
The urge to touch it was as strong as ever.
I’d brought along a camp shower, a plastic cube that hung from a tree.
I’d fill it full of river water, then add water I’d boiled in a pot over the fire so it was warm.
Scarlett would wash her hair and body, dress in sweats, then sit in her camp chair and brush it out.
If there was such a thing as spun sunshine, that was Scarlett’s hair. And her eyes were jewels mined from the sky.
Seeing her there, wearing next to nothing and smiling, stirred my blood. The stretch of river ahead had some tight curves and the last thing we needed was to capsize, but otherwise, I’d take her right here on the boat.
Later. In the safety of our tent, I’d ravish that delectable body and show her how I felt, even if I wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.
It was too soon for words. For promises. There was too much looming on the horizon.
There had to be a solution. There just had to be. I’d figure this out. Somehow. Because the alternative wasn’t feasible. If I lost her . . .
“What are you thinking about?” Scarlett asked, her gaze roaming my face.
I’d been staring, lost in my head. “You.”
“What about me?”
“Just how stunning you are.”
She ducked her chin, hiding from the praise.
“Does it embarrass you?”
“A little.” She looked up and shrugged.
“I don’t give compliments when they aren’t earned.”
“You’re biased.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I just see what you can’t yet. But stick with me, beautiful. We’ll get there.”
Her eyes turned glassy and her head lilted to the side as she stared at me with an expression so grateful, it humbled me. Then the look was gone, replaced with such a bone-deep sadness, it hurt me as much as it seemed to hurt her. “We have to talk about it, Luke. We can’t keep ignoring it.”
“I know.” I shoved the oars hard into the water, feeling the strain in my shoulders and arms as I pushed my frustration into the river. “I don’t know what to do. That’s not a feeling I enjoy.”
Scarlett smirked. “Chief Rosen always has the answer.”
“Or I fake it until I come up with the right one.”
“How would you fake this?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “What do you want to do?”
“What are my options?”
“Hide away in my house forever,” I teased, though part of me was serious. I’d keep her there until we were old and gray if that meant her safety.
“Tempting.” She laughed. “But eventually you’re going to get sick of me rearranging furniture.”
“Never.” I winked, giving us another strong row.
“I could disappear.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “I could leave town, never look back. Cut off all ties to Presley.”
A lump formed in my throat. Had she considered this before? Was that what she’d planned to do the night I’d caught her at the door? “Is that what you want?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate. “If I have to, then I’ll do it. But I’m not done fighting yet.”
“That’s my girl.”
She squared her shoulders. “So how do we fight?”
“We need to make a copy or two of that video. I don’t want to risk something happening to your phone.” I suspected my email was being monitored by the FBI but we’d find a way to get that video into cloud storage or something. Maybe I’d create an account under Dad’s name.
Scarlett nodded. “Then what?”
“The way I see it, we’ve got two options. The first—that video disappears and we find a way to get the Warriors to believe you didn’t take their drugs.”
“The second?”
“We take that video to the FBI. There’s a chance they won’t put you in witness protection.”
“But there’s a chance they will.”
I nodded. “If they think the Warriors will retaliate and threaten your life, yes. If they want you to testify, yes.”
“What happens if you give the video to the FBI anonymously?”
“They’ll know it came from you,” I said. “They’ll make you testify.”
“Can’t I refuse?”
“They’ll make it nearly impossible. They might threaten you with an accessory charge or something to force you into it. They can’t build a case from that video alone. To make it rock solid, they’ll want the person who took it to corroborate its legitimacy.”
She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. Her toes wiggled on the bottom of the boat, tapping on the water droplets.
Fuck, what was I doing? We shouldn’t even have options.
My conscience raged in the back of my mind, scolding me for even presenting her with option one.
I was a cop. The only option here was justice.
Scarlett had the power to put those murdering thugs away.
Each and every one of the Warriors likely deserved a prison cell.
But I’d lose her.
I wasn’t just a cop, but a man falling in love who wasn’t ready to give Scarlett up. Which was why as I watched her internal deliberation, my heart screamed option one.