Chapter 22
They barely spoke during the drive. The silence wasn’t hostile. That would’ve been easier. Instead, it was thick with things she no longer knew how to define.
Julia had convinced herself that whatever existed between them ended months ago.
Leland had made sure of that. Except lately he kept doing things that didn’t fit.
Stepping in, taking over, making decisions for her as though he had the right to.
Looking at her with flashes of something that wasn’t strictly professional before shutting down again.
It didn’t make sense. And it made everything worse.
Was it guilt? Responsibility? Concern for someone he still considered part of Devil’s Pointe, despite her walking away?
It couldn’t be more than that. Could it?
Julia shifted in her seat and watched the city slide past her window in streaks of headlights and neon reflections. Downtown traffic slowly gave way to quieter streets, the buildings thinning until the road widened beneath thick canopies of palms and sprawling trees draped in moss.
The farther they drove, the more secluded everything became. She saw privacy walls, iron gates, long drives hidden behind dense landscaping. This wasn’t the secluded cabin she had imagined. It smelled of salt, sand, and money.
She watched Leland from the corner of her eye. He had both hands fixed on the wheel, his attention constantly moving. Mirrors, intersections, passing vehicles. She glanced in her mirror. Were they being followed?
After several minutes of seeing nothing, she looked his way again.
The muscles beneath his black T-shirt shifted every time he turned the wheel, tattoos rippling under the streetlights before disappearing into the shadows again.
He hadn’t relaxed once since they left headquarters.
For her, it had been much longer than that.
The SUV turned again, driving deeper into one of the residential streets and stopping in front of a modern home partially hidden behind palms and thick hedges. Not massive or flashy but private.
When Leland killed the engine, she dipped her head and looked through the windshield at the house. Dark stone, tall windows, lighting illuminating the clean lines and shadowed angles. It looked designed for a man who trusted security more than comfort.
Realization hit. “This is your house.”
His gaze met hers. “Yes.”
Her pulse tripped. A safe house would’ve been impersonal. Neutral. This was… intimate.
Leland was already out of the vehicle before she could decide what to do with the sudden rush of emotion swelling in her chest. Cry. Laugh. Scream at him. Any of those felt likely right now.
By the time she reached for the handle, he already had her door open.
“Inside.”
Julia looked past him toward the house again.
“This is a terrible idea,” she said softly.
“We can argue about it inside.”
“Leland…”
His gaze swept automatically toward the street before returning to her. “Not here where you’re out in the open.” His tone wasn’t harsh, just nonnegotiable.
Reminded of the scrunchie and how close the stalker had gotten, a chill slid through her.
She stepped out and walked to his front door.
Leland stayed close enough that she could feel him at her back.
She noticed security cameras positioned discreetly along the perimeter.
Not obvious unless you were looking. And she was.
Once inside, he locked and dead-bolted the door. The control panel on the wall was next, Leland punching a bunch of buttons. His distraction gave her a chance to look around.
His place was exactly what she expected. And not at all.
Heavy wood furnishings with steel and glass accents. But there were softer traces. Bookshelves actually used for that purpose. A blanket thrown carelessly over one corner of the couch. Masculine without trying to prove it. Like him.
Framed photographs dotted the wall. The first one she noticed was of a group of men in uniform—a military unit, all of them young but already hard-edged, their faces radiating an intensity you couldn’t fake. Leland was among them, impossibly young, his expression unreadable even then.
Farther along hung another photo: Leland and Dev in dark suits, standing in front of an official-looking seal. Below it, a small commendation plaque caught the light.
None of it seemed displayed for show. These were pieces of a past he didn’t talk about, and she felt the gravity of that.
“I adjusted the system,” he said, moving past her. “Increased the sensitivity settings of both the alarms and motion detectors. Stay clear of the doors and windows, or you’ll set it off. Otherwise, make yourself at home.”
Home. Right.
He gestured toward the hallway. “Bedroom’s there.”
“You have more than one, right?”
“Yep, but only one bed. Don’t worry about it.”
Julia blinked. “I’ll take the couch.”
He looked at her. “That’s not happening.”
She exhaled, frustration threading through her. “Fine.”
He disappeared into the bedroom and returned a few moments later with a folded shirt. “You can sleep in this.”
She took it. Soft. Worn. His.
“Alec and Emily will go by your place in the morning,” he added. “Pack what you need.”
Julia hesitated, fingers flexing around the shirt. “I haven’t thanked you.”
He didn’t reply, and she filled the space. “This is… a lot. And I don’t have any way of paying any of you for what you’ve been doing.”
“I don’t recall any of us asking. We take care of our own.”
She held his gaze. “I haven’t been one of you for months.”
“You are. Staying away was your decision. Not ours.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
Apparently, he didn’t need her to. “Good night, Julia.”
She watched him walk away. Under the same roof, the distance between them seemed wider than ever.
In the bedroom, she closed the door and sagged against it. For a moment, she stood there, eyes closed, trying to steady the nervous energy that hummed beneath her skin. It didn’t work.
The room smelled of him. Clean. Masculine. It affected her more than she wanted to admit.
She pushed away from the door and crossed to the bathroom. He’d left the light on for her. A new toothbrush, still in its package, rested beside folded towels on the counter. A fresh bar of soap waited beside the sink. It was a thoughtful thing to do.
Julia picked up the soap and brought it to her nose, immediately wishing she hadn’t. The scent triggered memories of her face buried in his neck and his hands sliding over her skin.
She set it down and shut her eyes hard, forcing the memories down. Then she washed up and changed into his shirt, trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy from the wreckage of the evening.
When she finally climbed into bed, exhaustion sat heavy in every part of her body. Curling onto her side, she pulled the pillow close. But sleep wouldn’t come.
Leland was everywhere. In the soap clinging to her skin, the taste of his cinnamon toothpaste, and especially in the bed beneath her.
She flung the pillow away and lay still, trying not to stir up more of him. It hurt because some reckless part of her still longed for things she had no business wanting.
The worst part was knowing that living here with him, for however long it took, would only make it harder to walk away again when it was done.
***
The smell of bacon woke her. Julia blinked, disoriented for half a second before the night before came roaring back.
Not her apartment. Not her life.
Julia rolled out of Leland’s bed—suddenly too big, too warm, too… him. Her stomach growled and she stopped, trying to remember when she last ate. With bacon on her mind now, she followed the scent into the kitchen.
He was already there, standing at the stove in only jeans and bare feet.
“Morning,” he said, glancing over. His gaze tracked downward, past his too-big shirt to her bare legs and feet, leaving his mark everywhere without him touching her at all.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” she said, amazed her voice was even in the presence of bare skin, all that muscle, and more tattoos than she recalled.
“I’m used to it,” he said, flipping strips of bacon with tongs.
“Aren’t you worried about splatters?” she choked out.
“If you keep the heat low, it’s not a problem.” He scooped up what looked like a half pound of bacon and laid it out on paper towels to soak up the grease. “How do you take your coffee?”
“With a little milk, but I’ll get it,” she said, hurrying to the counter with the Keurig. Anything to get her mind off a half-naked Leland only a few feet away. “Would you like a cup?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Please. I take it black.”
Why wasn’t she surprised?
She set his mug on the counter beside him and perched on a stool at the bar separating the kitchen from the living room, since he didn’t have a kitchen table. She sipped, watching him wipe out the bacon pan and crack eggs into it.
“So, what do we do?”
He glanced over. “Do?”
“Yeah. To keep from climbing the walls while on lockdown. I’m used to being busy.”
He shrugged, and she tried not to stare at the play of muscles in his shoulders. She failed.
“Read. Rest.”
“You’re near the beach. Can we go for walks?”
“No.”
“Not even—”
“No,” he repeated, quieter this time.
She frowned. “How are you supposed to catch him if the bait isn’t out there?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “You’re not luring anyone.”
“It could take forever.”
“Forever while you’re safe,” he said evenly, “sounds like the right plan to me.”
She didn’t answer that.
He brought over two plates of crispy bacon, perfect eggs over medium, and buttered toast. They ate in silence. Afterward, she insisted on doing the dishes.
“You cooked. I clean. That’s fair,” she said before he could say no again.
He allowed it, mostly because an alarm sounded. He checked his phone. “That’s Alec here with your things.”
Leland let him in, and she watched as Alec hauled in a suitcase the size of a small planet. Julia stared at it. That much space wasn’t for an overnight. Or a long weekend. It was what you packed when you didn’t know when you’d be home again.