Chapter Sixteen #2
She needed someone who… Who was actually the guy he pretended to be. Actually honorable and dedicated to the law, through and through. Not a screwed-up kid from a biker gang trying to make some kind of weird amends to his sister and maybe himself.
“Franny, I’m not a good guy. I’ve done and seen some…truly awful things.”
She studied him with those big green eyes, all soft and considering, like she understood him, but not in the way he wanted her to. In some deeper way he didn’t fully grasp.
“Royal, I think the fact you’ve become a police officer, that you want to do good things in the face of all the bad you were surrounded with is something to be proud of. It’s brave.”
He had no words. Brave. He’d mostly called any brave he’d demonstrated survival. Because that’s all it really was. Sometimes you had to face fear not because you wanted to, not because you were brave, but because you wanted to survive.
Franny had probably never considered survival in her life, and he was glad for that. Glad something awful didn’t weigh on her. He didn’t want it to.
But for a brief, painful moment, he wanted to be as brave as she thought he was. Instead of just someone who knew how to survive.
Before he could decide what to do with that, or this, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. The readout was the sheriff’s department.
“I better take this,” he said, swiping to answer and stepping away from her. “Deputy Campbell.”
“Campbell. Sheriff here. I’ve just gotten a call from one of the FBI agents who was here. They’ve found Albennie Ward. I don’t have the details yet, but they’re bringing her back to Bent.”
For a moment, Royal was speechless. Found. “What about who took her? The kidnapper?” The woman that had been creeping around that the sheriff didn’t know about?
“Like I said. No details.”
“If we don’t know if the kidnapper has been apprehended…”
“You can keep an eye on Ms. Perkins until we have the details. Once I get more information, we’ll reevaluate your assignment.”
“Yes, sir.” He ended the phone call with the sheriff, looked over at Franny.
“They…found her.”
“She’s okay?” she asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“The sheriff doesn’t have details just yet, but she’s alive and on her way back to Bent.” Relief crossed her features and she kind of sagged there against the wall. He wanted to offer support. An arm to hold her up, a body to lean on.
He stayed where he was, tried to order his thoughts. Tried to think like a police officer. Not someone who wanted to make everything okay for Franny.
He could call Simmons and probably get more answers and quicker, but he thought of the stroller and the kids and the late hour. He could wait. They could wait. Sheriff had told him to stay put.
“We don’t know who’s been arrested, so we continue on tonight just like we’ve been doing until we know for sure the kidnapper is behind bars.”
“Can I tell Lia? I have to tell her. She’ll be… God, it’ll just take such a weight off.”
“We don’t have any information. Albennie could be hurt. There could be more to this. I don’t want to sound cynical. I just don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up that everything is great when we don’t know that for sure.”
Franny nodded along. “But… You’re not wrong, Royal, but Albennie’s alive. Even if it’s not all sunshine and roses, she’s alive and coming home. Lia needs to know.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “All right. Just make sure to be clear we don’t have any details. There’s nothing we can do right now except wait for morning.”
“Of course,” Franny agreed. She made a move for the living room, but Royal couldn’t…just stay there. “I should probably go.”
She stopped, slowly turned. “Oh.”
He forced himself to move forward. To be a damn police officer.
“For now, I still want you following all the same precautions, okay? I don’t have enough information to be sure they’ve got the kidnapper locked up, and we still haven’t figured out the identity of that woman.
” He made a beeline for the front door. “We’re still keeping you safe, Franny. Until it’s all for sure.”
She trailed after him.
“You could stay again.” Her smile was a little wobbly. It wasn’t an invitation, in that sense of the word. It was because she was still worried about her own safety, like she should be.
But he had a bad feeling if he stayed, it could turn into an invitation he wouldn’t have the sense to refuse. He sent her a kind smile. “I better not.” And those big green eyes were a big reason why.
“Okay.” She was clasping her hands together like she did when she was nervous, but he couldn’t stay and manage her nerves. They had surveillance, they had alarms. He was right across the street.
And with that barrier maybe he could talk some sense into himself.
“Security. Locks. Call or text if you need anything.”
She nodded, got her phone out of her purse on the counter.
She disengaged the alarm and he unlocked the door and stepped out onto the porch.
He waited for her to close the door behind him, listened to the locks click into place.
He knew she’d set the alarm. She’d take all the precautions she should.
It took more self-talk than it should to force himself to walk down the stairs and across the street. He surveyed the dark street, saw no signs of life except the occasional light from one of the buildings.
In the dark, everything looked more ghost town than quaint small town. The shadows seemed to loom. Everything was eerily quiet. But when he got to his side of the street, looked up at Franny’s building, the lights behind the windows shone like a beacon.
A beacon you aren’t answering, buddy.
He’d been so sure if he just…tested the waters she would back off. Instead, she’d pressed her mouth to his, her hands on his chest, and upended something inside of him he’d thought too cynical to ever be upended.
Maybe he’d blame Brooke and her happiness and her baby bump.
Maybe he’d blame allergies and asthma.
Maybe he’d blame his own damn self for being foolish enough to think there was anything good on the other side of everything he’d been through.
Disgusted with himself, he went up the stairs to his apartment.
Once inside, he double-checked all the surveillance equipment just to make sure everything was up and running like it should be.
Maybe there was a little niggling impulse to see if she was on camera, if she was talking to herself, but he wouldn’t do that.
It was crossing a line, and maybe he’d been raised to cross lines, erase lines, destroy every last line. But he’d left that behind. The fact that the impulse still resided in him was what he’d been trying to get through to Franny.
And she’d called him brave.
Why did that hit him like a blow? Like when Brooke said horribly insightful things about…building a life that the Sons never got to touch. Even if all those scars existed inside them still. Always.
He pulled out his phone, pulled up Franny’s contact information and clicked Message. He studied the empty box for a few minutes before he typed up what was on his mind.
Hypothetically, I didn’t stay because I don’t trust myself around you. He considered the text for a good ten minutes. Let it sit there without sending. It wasn’t smart to send it.
But she had hypothetically been talking about an after. He should nip that in the bud. Instead he was acknowledging it?
She’d thought he didn’t like the kiss. He still couldn’t get over it. She was so damn pretty and funny and sweet, but she didn’t necessarily see it. Not enough to think he might see it.
He hit Send on the damn text. Then stomped around his apartment, irritated and frustrated, getting ready for bed. He was going to sleep and sleep well. Tomorrow he’d have answers and…
And maybe an after to think about, but until then, it didn’t matter.
He turned off all his lights, got into bed, then lay there staring at the ceiling.
She tasted like spring was all he could think. That sharp, bright slice of hope after a long, dark winter. And he shouldn’t think or feel or accept that.
His phone dinged, and he all but lunged for it, figuring Franny would have responded.
But it wasn’t Franny. It was a text from Zeke.
We’ve got a problem.