Chapter 30
NORA
SLOANE AND I laugh at the same time as we look at the blob of butter splashed across my shirt. She asked me to beat them after I asked if I could help, but I didn’t realize the butter had already melted when she handed me the bowl and the beaters.
She takes it from me with a chuckle. “I’ve got this, go change your shirt.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be right back.” Flipping what’s on my shirt in the sink, I look out the window to see Tuck still on his phone. Gray came in a few minutes ago by himself, and I’ve been wondering who he’s talking to.
His back is to me, his weight on his good leg and his hand on his hip. His broad shoulders taper perfectly into his lean waist, making a perfect triangle. Even from this angle, I can see the bulk of his shoulders, and I remember how they felt under my hands last night.
Oh my gosh, I’ve got to stop. Clearing my throat, I move away from the window and try to hide my flushed cheeks as I walk out of the kitchen.
My duffel is on the floor next to the bed, and I open it to grab another shirt, my Stony’s shirt is pushed to the side, and guilt squeezes me.
Tuck told him I couldn’t come back for a bit, and I hate that I left him and Sammy in a bind.
I don’t care if Trudy is inconvenienced, but Sammy became my friend, and Stony was always nice to me.
Then I think of my car - the reason I was working at Stony’s in the first place.
In just a few weeks, I’ve pivoted so far off the path I was on that my head is still spinning.
I feel like the balls I’ve been juggling for the last six months have multiplied, but I’m losing track of them because of the other people involved now.
It’s almost scarier than it felt to be on the move all the time, especially since I’m having to put my trust in other people.
People I don’t really know. I trust Tuck, but now the FBI is involved, and it’s so much bigger than I could have ever imagined.
If I think about it too much, it overwhelms me, and my head spins.
I smile as I think of Tuck. He’s been nothing but good to me, even when he was being his grumpy self. There I was thinking he didn’t like me, and he was leaving big tips, waiting in the rain to give me a ride home, sticking around after hours to make sure I was safe, standing between me and a gun.
What kind of man does that? I already know the answer, one of the good ones. He’s been there for me when other men would have tucked and run, he’s been the rock I can lean on, even before he showed me his soft side. My Grams would tell me to ‘hang on and don’t let go’.
My laptop pinging with an incoming message pulls me from my thoughts. I quickly pull my sweatshirt over my head and sit on the edge of the bed with my computer on my knees to pull up my messages. Hopefully, it’s a new editing job.
My blood runs cold when I read the message from the same email address as the other day.
HEY BEAUTIFUL. MEET ME AT THE GAS STATION ON HIGHWAY 20 NEXT TO THE TURNPIKE TOMORROW AT 3P. LEAVE THE HICK AT HIS HOUSE. DON’T MAKE ME COME GET YOU.
My stomach turns as I read the message. Matt used to call me beautiful all the time, and I learned to hate it. He usually said it when he wanted something or when he was trying to soothe my anger for whatever he’d done to hurt my feelings.
Rhys gave me his business card yesterday and told me to call him if Matt makes contact again. Why does he want me to meet him? Setting my laptop on the bedside table, I slide down the side of the bed, pulling my knees to my chest and holding my head in my hands.
I don’t even hear the door open, but I hear boots rush across the floor before Tuck is squatting in front of me on his good leg, his bad leg is less bent and taking less weight. Jerking my head up, I’m met with worried eyes, the Clint Eastwood squint on his face.
He sets his hand on my knee. “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, I sigh as I reach up to get my laptop off the bedside table and hand it to him. His eyebrows pull together as he takes it, and it doesn’t take long for the anger to show as his eyes move across the screen.
“I don’t know what to do. Do I call Rhys?
” I stand up, his eyes following me, and walk to the other side of the room.
“Will he want me to meet him?” I start pacing, my fingers pressed to my temples on each side.
“What does he even want? Will I have to go by myself?” My voice is getting shriller with each question.
“I don’t want to meet him by myself. He’s never been physical, but his message sounds like a threat. How do I know he won’t try to hurt me?”
A growl rumbles at my side. “Nora.” A large, calloused hand grabs my arm and spins me around to pull me into him.
Oof. Air rushes from my chest when I bump into him, and my palms land on his pecs, my head tipped back to look at him. One arm goes around my waist to hold me to him; the other slips into the hair on my nape.
“You won’t do anything alone. Whatever you have to do, it will be where I can see you.” His tone is possessive. “Even if you can’t see me.”
My heart is beating double-time just thinking about facing Matt, and a shiver of fear creeps up my spine. “I don’t know if I can do this without you. Promise you’ll be there.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Sugar, where you go, I go.”
Later in the afternoon, we’re sitting in the family room with Rhys and a guy he introduced as Special Agent Swan.
They are sitting on the big leather couch, and I’m perched on the edge of one of the matching chairs.
Tuck is next to me, sitting on the arm of the chair, his long legs spread out in front of him.
My laptop is in Swan’s lap and is connected to some device sitting on the big wooden coffee table between us. He’s tapping away on the keys, and Rhys is talking on his cell to the FBI in D.C.
Leaning against the door frame between the entryway and the family room are Mason and Jax, both have their arms crossed and look every bit the intimidating military men. All three of them look completely comfortable in this environment.
I’m kind of turned on by how hot Tuck looks next to me.
The three men are intently listening to the one-sided conversation Rhys is having.
“Highway 20… Affirmative… Fifteen hundred hours… Rendezvous at twelve hundred.” His eyes flick up to Tuck when he says, “Will advise relax readiness.”
Tuck’s leg touching my arm is the only physical sign of tension, but I can feel it coming off him in waves. I’m not in the military, but it sounds to me like the FBI is telling Tuck to stay out of it.
Swiveling in my seat, I tip my head back to look at him, my heart beating faster. His angry Clint Eastwood squint is directed at Rhys. Without looking at me, he uncrosses his arms and slides his palm up my spine to cup my neck, gently squeezing to offer comfort.
After a few more clipped responses, Rhys drops his cell on the table. His eyes move between the three team guys in front of him. “The D.C. office has ordered that you stand down and let them handle this.”
“Last I heard, I don’t take orders from the FBI, or any other alphabet outfit.” Tuck growls.
Rhys takes a deep breath and rolls his head from one shoulder to the other. “It’s an ongoing investigation, and they are concerned that your presence could cause a problem.”
Tuck’s voice doesn’t waver, and the scowl on his face doesn’t change. “Wherever she goes, I go.”
Mason follows that with, “Where he goes, I go.”
Jax only waggles his eyebrows and winks with a smile.
Rhys and Tuck have a stare-off for a few moments before he responds. “I can’t stop you from being there, but you will get pushback.”
The gentle pressure of Tuck’s hand on my neck is in complete opposition to the possessive anger in his voice. “What’s the course of action, and we’ll stay in the periphery.”
Rhys stares at Tuck for a few moments before he answers. “We need to send her in with a wire.”
“No.” Tuck’s voice is deep and clipped.
“You know this is how it works?”
The room is silent as the battle of wills stare-off continues.
Tuck breaks the silence. “If he so much as looks threatening, I’m going in.”
“You also know what happens if you interfere before we get what we need.”
“Don’t fucking care.”
Swinging my head to look at Tuck, I ask, “What happens?”
He’s pissed, but when he looks at me, his face softens. When he hesitates, Mason speaks up. “Tuck, I’ll keep him in my sights the whole time. If he lifts a hand, he’ll lose it.”
“And we’ll have eyes on with a secure perimeter; she’ll be covered.” Jax says, his smile is gone.
The talk of sights, losing hands, and violence is making me nervous, and my eyes flick from Tuck to Mason and back. “What happens?”
“You have to get him to admit he set you up, otherwise, the paperwork you signed is legally binding, and you are an accomplice.” Rhys says behind me.
Accomplice?
Swan looks up from my laptop. “We can give you a list of things to say and questions to ask to steer him into giving the answers we need.”
Everyone else in the room might be used to this type of thing, but I’m not. Panic and anxiety are sliding up my spine like ice-cold water, and I slide even further to the edge of the chair, my fingernails digging into my palms on my thighs.
Closing my eyes, I clear my throat and slide my shaking finger up my nose to my forehead to put pressure on the dull thumping between my temples. “S-So, can you walk me through this?” I open my eyes and look at Rhys. “Keep in mind that this might be your every day, but it’s not mine.”
Some of the tension swirling in the air between Rhys and Tuck thins as Rhys leans on his elbows, linking his fingers in front of him with a nod.
“Agents from D.C. will be here tomorrow, it will get a bit chaotic and busy pretty quickly, don’t let that scare you, it’s standard.
They will talk you through what they want you to do and will attach a wire to you.
When you meet your ex at the gas station, it will feel like you’re alone, but we will be all around you listening to everything.
If it helps, we can give you a safe word. ”
My mind has been spinning with scenarios the entire time he’s been talking, and the one that scares me the most, since the robbery at the pub is so fresh in my mind, tumbles out on a whisper. “What if he has a gun? A safe word can’t stop a gun.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mason says, and my head turns to him. “I’ll have you covered.”
“How will you have me covered?”
“Mason’s a sniper, sugar, one of the best.” Tuck’s thumb softly caresses the skin on my neck.
Rhys clears his throat, and we all turn to him. “You can’t shoot him, Mason. We need him alive. The fact that you are saying this in front of me is creating a huge conflict of interest.” He leans back and looks away.
“Oh, really?” Mason barks. “I think I remember our way of doing things didn’t bother you when it saved my sister, aka, the woman you love.”
Swan coughs into his fist and sets my laptop on the table as he stands and leaves the room.
Rhys stands up, his shoulders square. “I didn’t say it bothered me; I said you shouldn’t say these things in front of me, it puts me in a bad fucking position.”
Tuck’s hand leaves my neck, and he stands up. “You’re fucking position means jack shit to me. My only concern is her.”
Tipping my head back, I watch Tuck’s jaw tick as they stare at each other. It’s hard to wrap my head around their being brothers-in-law. I don’t want to be the reason for a family conflict, so I stand up and position myself between them, my hands on Tuck’s forearms.
“Hey.” I whisper it, and his eyes lower to me. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re close.”
His eyes volley between mine, and he nods his head before he wraps his arm around my waist to pull me close.