Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Romeo
The burner dropped the call twice before I found the one spot at the end of the dock where the signal held.
I leaned against a weathered post and stared out over the water while it rang again, watching sunlight flicker through the cypress branches and trying not to let a maybe become something bigger than it was.
The SUV had stayed behind us through enough turns to get my attention.
That was all I actually knew. I had never seen the driver, never caught a plate, and once I changed routes enough times, the vehicle disappeared.
Could have been following us. Could have been some poor bastard tourist lost in the bayou.
King answered with, “Tell me exactly what happened again.”
I did, keeping it stripped down to what I knew instead of what my instincts wanted to make of it.
The SUV had been behind us for a while. I changed direction.
It remained behind us. I changed direction again.
Same thing. Eventually it was gone. No confrontation.
No attempt to close the distance. Nothing that proved whoever sat behind that windshield gave a damn about Fiona or me.
When I finished, King stayed quiet long enough that I could hear voices somewhere on his end of the line. “So you don’t know it was following you.”
“No.”
“You think it was.”
“I thought it was worth noticin’.”
“That, I agree with.” King exhaled heavily. “But right now, that’s all we’ve got. Nobody around here sent anyone. Montclair says the same on his end. Gator already told you it wasn’t his people.”
“Yeah.”
“And Sal hasn’t heard anything.”
That got my attention even though it gave me exactly nothing.
I already knew King had called Sal after Carly identified Fiona.
He had told Wade that while I stood two feet away listening to the whole conversation.
Sal having people in places the clubs didn’t was the reason King reached out in the first place.
If somebody had started asking questions about Kaitlyn Ward or Fiona Mitchell, Sal was one of the men most likely to hear about it.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing’s moving that he can see. Nobody’s asking about a Ward girl. Nobody’s asking about Fiona. He made a few people aware there might be someone we needed eyes on, but he hasn’t got anything that points back at us.”
I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the phone. “So we got nothin’.”
“Pretty much.”
Normally, nothing irritated the shit out of me.
Today it was almost a relief. Nothing meant we weren’t looking at proof that Sylvia had found Fiona.
Nothing meant the SUV hadn’t suddenly become an army waiting beyond the tree line because my head decided to connect two things that might have nothing to do with each other.
King seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Don’t turn one weird vehicle into a fucking conspiracy, Romeo.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely fucking do that when it comes to her.”
I looked back toward the cabin through the trees. Fiona moved past one of the screened windows, her hair catching the light before she disappeared again. “Maybe.”
“Stay aware. That’s all. If something changes, call me. Until then, I’ve got people listening, Sal’s got people listening, and there isn’t a single fucking lead telling us anybody knows where you are.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “And Angel and Banshee?”
“They know nothing. I told you—it’s Fiona’s call.”
“Good.”
I ended the call and stayed on the dock for another minute, letting the quiet settle around me.
My instincts still didn’t like the SUV, but instincts weren’t facts.
I had spent enough years around club business to know the fastest way to make bad decisions was to fall in love with your own theory before you had evidence.
Fiona looked up when I came inside. She sat curled into the corner of the couch, one of the books we found on a shelf open across her lap, though I doubted she had read much of it. “Well?”
I dropped the burner onto the table and sat beside her. “We know absolutely fuckin’ nothin’.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That sounds promising.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
“King checked. None of our people know where we are. And there is nothin’ indicatin’ that anyone knows who you are.
” I reached over and took her hand, rubbing my thumb across Granny’s ring.
“And before you ask, no, that doesn’t mean the SUV wasn’t Sylvia, but we have nothin’ to tell us it was. ”
Fiona watched me for a moment, then nodded slowly. “So yesterday scared us, and now there’s nothing we can actually do with it.”
“Pretty much.”
She looked toward the window, where the bayou stretched beyond the porch in quiet layers of green and black. “Then I don’t want to spend the time we’re here staring at the water waiting for somebody who may not even exist.”
Something inside my chest loosened.
“Good,” I said, sliding closer until our shoulders touched. “Because I had much better plans for disappearin’ into the swamp with my wife.”
That finally brought a smile to her face.
Though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. I could see the tension still coiled in her shoulders, the way her fingers twisted together in her lap even as she tried to relax. The fear hadn’t left her. It had just gone quiet for a moment, waiting beneath the surface.
I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand seeing her carry that weight when I’d do anything—fucking anything—to take it from her.
My hand moved to her face, cupping her jaw, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Her skin was soft, warm, and I felt her lean into the touch instinctively. That small gesture—that unconscious trust—hit me harder than any punch I’d ever taken.
She trusted me to keep her safe. Trusted me to stand between her and whatever darkness came hunting. And I would. I’d burn the whole goddamn world down before I let anyone hurt her.
“You’re still scared,” I said quietly.
She didn’t deny it. That was one of the things I loved about Fiona. She didn’t hide from the truth, even when it was ugly. “A little.”
“I know.” I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
She smelled like the soap from the cabin, something clean and simple, and underneath that was just her.
The scent that belonged to Fiona alone, the one that made something primal in me settle and ignite at the same time. “Let me take it away for a while.”
Her breath hitched. “Jasper...”
“Let me make you forget everythin’ except this.” I kissed her softly, just a brush of lips, a promise. “Let me remind you that you’re safe. That I’ve got you. That nothin’s gonna touch you while I’m breathin’.”
When I pulled back, her eyes had darkened, pupils dilating with something that wasn’t fear anymore. Want. Need. The same thing that burned through my veins every time I looked at her.
I stood, pulling her up with me, and she came willingly. My hands went to her waist, sliding under the hem of her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palms. She shivered, and I felt it echo through my entire body.
Slowly, so fucking slowly it nearly killed me, I lifted her shirt up and over her head. She raised her arms to help, and then she was standing in front of me in just her bra and jeans, her hair falling around her shoulders, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
Beautiful. She was so goddamn beautiful it hurt to look at her sometimes.
I traced my fingers along her collarbone, down between her breasts, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. “You have any idea what you do to me?” I asked, my voice rough. “How fuckin’ crazy you make me?”
“Show me,” she whispered.
Christ.
I reached behind her, unclasping her bra with practiced ease, and slid the straps down her arms. The fabric fell away, and I took a moment just to look at her. Her breasts were perfect, nipples already hardening in the cool air of the cabin, and I wanted to taste every inch of her.
But I forced myself to go slow. This wasn’t about taking. This was about giving. About showing her with my hands and my mouth and my body that she was cherished. Protected. Loved in a way that went beyond words.
I cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she gasped, her head falling back. I leaned in, pressing kisses along her throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath my lips. She was alive, warm, here with me, and that knowledge settled something dark and desperate in my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against her skin. “Always got you, baby.”
My hands moved to the button of her jeans, and I worked it open, sliding the zipper down slowly. She helped me push them down her hips, stepping out of them along with her panties, and then she was naked in front of me, vulnerable and trusting and so fucking perfect I could barely breathe.
I guided her back to the couch, easing her down onto the cushions. She looked up at me, her silver eyes wide and dark with desire, and I had to take a moment to steady myself. The need to bury myself inside her was overwhelming, but I pushed it down. This wasn’t about me. This was about her.
I knelt between her legs, spreading them gently, her breath coming faster now. I could see how wet she was, her pussy glistening, and my mouth watered. I wanted to taste her, wanted to make her come on my tongue until she forgot her own name.
I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling her tremble. “Gonna take care of you,” I promised. “Gonna make you feel so good you forget everythin’ else.”
Then I lowered my mouth to her pussy and tasted her.
Fuck. She tasted like heaven and sin mixed together, sweet and musky and addictive. I licked through her folds slowly, savoring every drop, and she moaned, her hands flying to my hair, gripping tight.