Chapter 14
Briana
Some women might take offense at the sheriff’s emotional one-eighty. I don’t. With a murderer nearby, a kiss could be a deadly distraction, the last thing we ever do.
That’s why I shut up and follow him, matching his pace as best I can. I’ve kept in excellent shape since leaving the Navy, but his legs are longer. The man moves like he’s trying to out-hike his thoughts.
His silence gives my brain too much room to wander. My breath hitches when I picture those long, sexy limbs braced on either side of me, his hips driving home.
“Hold on a sec.” I stop, pressing my hand to my sternum. Yeah, I need water or maybe a hard slap. If not, Dr. Herman might be willing to set me straight.
Summoned by my spiraling hormones, Becca appears, trotting up beside the lawman. Her tail wags once, she gives me a knowing glance, and she’s off again, a blur of fur.
Back against a tree, Kade’s neck muscles pulse as he yanks out his ringing SAT phone. “… Uh-huh. Be there in five… No, nothing… Yes… What? … Crap … Yeah, I’ll let her know. Griffin? … Figures… Mmm, see ya in a few. Thanks.”
I cross my arms. “What did he say?”
Ignoring my question, he drops his pack, then hands me his collapsible bottle. “Drink. It’s warm out there.”
Narrowing my eyes, I take a long pull and wipe my mouth. “Whatever was said, it involved me. Out with it.”
He still doesn’t face me as he digs through his gear. The most fascinating thing in his world is the zipper on his backpack.
“The call? Tell me, dammit.” I can’t believe I’m shouting. “Unless you plan to carry me out of these woods over your shoulder, you can damn well talk to me.”
His jaw ticks.
“Fine. Fuck the kiss, alright? It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“That’s not it,” he says softly, finally meeting my gaze.
“Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Now that you remember I'm the prime suspect in a murder case, you’re regretting letting your dick take the lead.”
The silence is my only answer.
His hand scrubs his beard before taking mine. “The State Police have assembled at the parking lot. Hunt agreed to hold them off while I carry you to an ambulance.”
I open my mouth, but he’s not finished. “Oh—he also mentioned your whole damn family is waiting at the bottom of the hill.”
My lungs stop breathing for a moment. The trees close in, their branches reaching for me. “Surely not all of them.”
He nods grimly. “Parents. Siblings. A few others.”
Knees weak, I drop onto a moss-covered log. If I could rewind time to erase the one bad decision which upended everything, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “Give me a second.”
“I meant what I said. I won’t let them handcuff you.” His voice is soft now, laced with steel.
“You don’t understand.” I blow away a lock of hair stuck to my lips. “It’s complicated.”
Crouched in front of me, his gaze searches mine. “Regardless, we’ve got to move. Are you coming?”
The parted pines below create a toothy, cavernous mouth, ready to devour me. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.” His tone hardens. “And don’t even think about running.”
“I haven’t since the drugs wore off.” It’s a lie, barely whispered.
In truth, annoying, tempting, impossible to ignore thoughts have buzzed through my mind constantly. “I’d rather go back to Afghanistan than face my entire clan without a giant turkey to hide behind.”
He huffs something akin to a laugh, but there’s no humor in his eyes, only tension, and a heat so intense, it melts a cold chip off my heart.
Too soon, the forest thins. Bright, sharp sunlight slashes through the trees, making me squint. By the time I blink into the glare of the gravel parking lot, it’s already too late.
“Dammit, Bree. We thought you were dead.” The oldest brother pulls me to his chest before I can register his face.
As I inhale his familiar cologne, he swipes his teary eyes, stepping back to let the rest swarm in. Dozens of limbs loop around my shoulders, back, and waist. It’s either a group hug or a Super Bowl pile-up at the one yard line.
Their voices tumble on top of each other. “Funeral arrangements—lawyer—State Police called—we’ll post bail—you’re not alone—come home, Bree, please come home.”
Ears ringing, my throat constricts until I can’t breathe. If I faint now, I’ll only make things worse.
“Kade?” My voice wobbles. “A little help here?”
“Folks, listen up? Let’s give the paramedics some room.” The booming sheriff leads me away from the mayhem, then carries me to the metal edge of the open ambulance.
My mother follows, my sisters in tow.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” Marie, the bossiest, pushes past one of the emergency responders slipping a blood pressure cuff up my arm.
Dog by his side, my temporary bodyguard steps in front of her. “Sorry, ma'am. She can answer your questions after a doctor checks her out.”
Letting out a dramatic huff, the hoard’s matron thrusts forward a middle-aged Japanese man. Wearing wire-rimmed glasses, an expensive suit, and an awkward expression, he shakes my hand.
“This is Mr. Ito.” My mom pats my head. “He’s your lawyer. Don’t say anything, honey.”
No, no, no. “Wait. Who's paying for—”
“Mom and Dad are paying,” cuts in my sister, Persephone—Percie for short, tormentor by trade. “Although technically, they can’t afford it either.”
They can and she knows it.
More important? The guilt card is tossed down, not sixty seconds into the family intervention. Already, we’re playing dirty. Well done.
“Did you kill Brett?” Upon hearing my sister’s bland tone, my head snaps back.
“Huh? No. Of course not.” In what alternate reality does any of this make sense?
“Miss, are you hurt anywhere?” That’s the paramedic again, no doubt trying to insert some sanity into the scene.
Good luck, dude. Wordlessly, I slide my arm from my sleeve. He pokes. I wince.
Frowning, he points inside the well-equipped interior. “You’ll want a doctor to examine you. Go ahead. Hop on the gurney.”
Calculating how old I’ll be by the time I pay off this debt, I shake my head. “No thanks. My friend can drop me off at urgent care. You do have those in Vermont, right?”
“Oh no you don’t. She is not going to some half-assed facility.” Didee, the loudest of my sisters, jabs a finger into the guy’s white uniformed chest.
I shove her back. “You don’t get a say.”
Mom, who’s been quietly plotting, taps the same medic on the shoulder. “I’m her guardian. She’s coming with us.”
When I open my mouth to point out the lie, she pivots to a Freud-ish bearded man standing behind her. “See what I mean, Dr. Wiesman?”
He nods solemnly, like I agreed to some random diagnosis. “I’ll be sure to inform the judge of her condition.”
What the actual fuck—
“Jesus Christ, you brought a shrink?” I yell. “What is wrong with you people?”
My outburst draws the FBI’s attention. I assume it’s Kade’s friend, Hunt, who strolls up, eyes flicking from the gurney to the shouting match. “What’s going on?”
The man attending to my health throws up his hands. “She doesn’t want to go to a hospital. I can’t force her.”
My dad and brothers grab my arms like this is some medieval siege and I’m the Holy Grail.
While the parking lot closes in, the gravel crunches beneath my boots. If someone doesn’t back off, I swear I’m bolting into the woods.
As I’m about to take my chances with the psycho stalker, Sheriff O'Malley reappears, slipping through the mob. Turning his back to them, he shoots me a quick wink.
“If you don’t want to be checked by a doctor, miss,” he says smoothly, “I’ll have to arrest you.”
“Thank God.” I thrust out my hands. “Cuff me, please.”