4. Lee
Lee
The back door slams against the wall hard enough to rattle the picture frames.
I bite back the lecture already rising in my throat and smile instead. Dad would have told her she wasn’t raised in a barn.
“Hey, Em,” I say when she walks into the kitchen.
Her feet drag across the tile, and she huffs a good morning.
“Did you have fun last night?”
Her hair is frizzy, and dark circles bruise the skin beneath her eyes. She shrugs off her coat without looking at me. Her hands shake as she drapes it over the back of a chair.
“Yeah, it was fun.”
Our eyes meet. Her pupils are so large they swallow almost all the color from her eyes. She looks away and rubs at the inside of her arm through her sleeve.
“Drink too much?” I ask, keeping my voice light as I reach for the coffeepot.
“Maybe.”
I slide a steaming mug toward her and study the tremor in her fingers when she reaches for it.
“I know you’re having fun, like most nineteen-year-olds do. But if you need me, I’m here for you.”
Emily sets down her untouched coffee and launches herself around the counter, wrapping both arms around me.
I catch her automatically and rub a hand down her back. She is trembling harder now.
She’s always been a rule follower. Before we lost Dad, she was sweet and wanted to do everything right. The perfect little girl. Now she has this wild streak I have no clue what to do with.
I was young, too, but I already had my career. It was my second year out of college. I barely remember that year beyond funeral arrangements, training hours, and trying to keep it together for my little sister.
Em lets go and swipes at her face.
“Thanks. It was just a hard night. Justin…”
I study her. Did they break up?
“You’re too good for him anyway.”
She hums. An agreement, maybe. I’m not sure what to do lately. I want to tell her he’s a loser. To forget about him and focus on school. She’s smart. But I overstepped before telling her she wasn’t made for my line of work. She didn’t speak to me for weeks after.
She isn’t cut out for it though. She’s so innocent. She sees the good in everyone, but that’s the opposite of what you have to do as a cop or an agent. You look for the bad first or else you aren’t ready when it hits you.
“Hey, want to stay in tonight? Watch Disney?”
Her eyes flick to mine, and she smiles.
“Always.” For a tiny second, I see my little sister again. My heart tugs at how much I miss her.
“I’ll grab some snacks after work.”
I pull her in tight once more.
“Love you, sissy,” I say before leaving.
She never came home to watch movies with me that night.
My body tosses in bed, and the memories fracture as I try to wake up. My chest aches. That was the last conversation we had. I failed her. I should have pushed harder or demanded she tell me what was going on.
Emily.
I’ve never felt so broken.
Another turn on the bed, or attempt, I suppose. My limbs are heavy, and only twitch then do nothing.
Why did I drink so much? That’s my first thought. And why are my eyelids stuck together? Can eyelids stick together, or are they actually stuck to my eyeball?
I could ask Julian. He knows a lot about the body. The human body, not so much mine anymore. I miss his touch. He hates me now.
Wait. Julian… He did this. My hand flies to the side of my neck, but without full control it just flops uselessly back to the mattress.
“You motherfucker,” I try to scream. The sound that drags out is raw and garbled.
I pry my eyes open and look around. Wood-paneled walls close in around me, the air thick with the scent of pine and old cedar. A narrow window frames nothing but dense green trees pressing against the glass.
A cabin. He brought me to a cabin knowing damn well how I feel about nature.
The man himself appears in the doorway. His broad shoulders cut off what little light reaches the hall.
“Don’t sit up,” he says.
I try anyway. My body betrays me. The room spins fast, and I collapse back onto the pillow with a frustrated huff. The fabric is too soft for this rustic setting.
“Are you hungry?”
Yes. But I won’t tell him that.
“I’ll get you a sandwich and some water.”
“No, thanks.” My words are slurred.
I think I’m drooling. Damn it, drool is not sexy. Not that I want to be sexy for him. We are broken up. I go from mad, to horny, to sad in under a minute. I blame the drugs.
“Go back to sleep. We’re going to talk when you wake up.”
He walks out through the doorway the same way he came in, without a care in the world.
I stare at the ceiling, thinking of my apartment. It must be gone now. Burned to the ground along with the evidence turned to ashes. I loved it there. The thought makes the anger burn hotter.
Elliot.
My eyes sting. I didn’t see that coming, even if we were broken up. If we were even ever really together. Was everything fake between us?
My chest seizes. An uncontrollable sob slips through my mouth before I can stop it.
With a body that refuses to obey me, there isn’t much I can do. I curl into the pillow and cry myself to sleep again.
I wake up to the smell of something cooking. It’s savory, onions and garlic, maybe bacon sizzling in the pan.
My legs feel less like deadweight now, and the throbbing behind my eyes has dulled to a low pulse.
Drugged.
I turn my head an inch and regret it immediately. My stomach rolls. I swallow hard and breathe through my nose until the nausea backs off.
I’m in a cabin. It’s quiet unlike the city buzz I’m used to. The lack of noise and the evergreen forest outside the window clue me into the fact I must have been out of it awhile for him to drive me this far.
Why are we isolated, though? For my safety, or because they don’t trust me not to do something completely unhinged? It should be the latter, if they know me at all.
My fingers curl into the mattress. I push up slowly. This time, I make it. I give myself a mental fist pump.
The door swings open before I can decide whether to stand.
Julian steps in. A furry black-and-white tail twitches over his arm while one hand balances a mug.
Jasper’s safe even if he is in the arms of the traitor.
It’s not his fault he is easily manipulated by treats and scratches.
Plus, his father left us. He’s a product of a messy separation, so I can’t blame him.
Julian’s in gray sweats and a plain black T-shirt that clings to his broad chest. His dark hair is still damp from a shower, a few droplets tracing down the side of his neck. He just looks at me, like this is normal.
Ugh, my traitorous pulse picks up the pace. Why is he so handsome? It would make killing him so much easier if he wasn’t.
“You’re awake,” he says softly.
I don’t answer.
He sets the mug down on the nightstand, careful not to clink it against the wood. Steam curls up from it, the smell is my aphrodisiac. Coffee. It is the one thing that can briefly overpower my rage.
He unfolds the blanket and drapes it over the foot of the bed like he’s expecting me to get cold. I hate how well he knows me. I’m always cold at night but still need the ceiling fan on or I can’t sleep.
“What did you give me?” I ask.
His blue eyes flick to the spot on my neck where the needle went in. “Short-acting sedative,” he says. “And fluids. You were dehydrated.”
“You drugged me.”
“Yes.”
No apology. Not even a hint of regret on his stupidly attractive face. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood so I don’t hurl something at his head.
“You didn’t have to do that. Jesus, Julian, I was already going with you. That was a dick move.”
His jaw tightens hard enough his muscle ticks. “We didn’t have time. You were about to start arguing with me in the street while the feds were on the way.”
A bitter laugh scrapes out of me.
“I would have figured it out, Julian. I always do.”
He steps closer, stopping just out of reach. The space between us feels huge though.
“I wasn’t going to let you be taken,” he says.
“So you took me?”
Hypocrite.
His gaze doesn’t flinch. His gaze doesn’t waver, steady and unapologetic. In a confident way that used to comfort me and now just pisses me off.
“I moved you. You just slept through it.”
I swing my legs off the bed and push to my feet. My knees wobble, but I lock them. I refuse to sit back down like some loser who can’t stomp properly when throwing a tantrum. And there is a hell of one coming for both of them.
“Where is he?” I ask.
Julian’s eyes sharpen. “Who?”
“Don’t do that. You know exactly fucking who. He’s a rat.”
A heavy beat stretches between us, making me want to scream.
“Elliot left,” he says.
My chest gives a small, traitorous lurch. I ignore it and shove that shit down hard.
“Left for where?”
Julian doesn’t answer, though I’m sure he knows more than he’s letting on.
I step around him and make my way to the narrow window set high in the wall. The forest outside is dense and green. No road is visible, and there are no neighboring cabins. Well, this is a perfect place to hide someone.
“Is this some kind of a safehouse?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh, Julian. I can’t stay here.” I turn and stagger down the hallway using one hand to trail along the wall for balance.
A bathroom sits to the left, with a living space beyond it.
There's a small but cozy couch in front of a fireplace that makes everything warm. The kitchen is beyond cute, with open wooden shelving that holds groceries, clean dishes, and a book I’ve had in my Tbr forever.
Jasper’s food bowl sits beside a half-empty water dish next to the fridge.
They had this place prepped and ready for me.
I brace my hands on the kitchen counter and breathe through another wave of dizziness.
“How long have you been planning this?”
“Ettie,” he breathes.
My heart hurts hearing him call me that.
Julian stands behind me, close enough that I can feel his body heat. He doesn’t touch me. I wouldn’t let him. I don’t think.
I turn, backing into the counter so I can see him.
“You don’t get to just lady-nap me.”
His voice drops.
“I already did.”
He’s being stubborn. He doesn’t understand. I have to get him to let me go.