JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) (6 page)

Carrington

I heard the snap of her door closing. I wasn’t listening intentionally, but the house was so quiet that it was hard to miss. I told myself I should give her space, but then I reasoned that she wouldn’t leave her room if she didn’t want company. If she wanted to be alone, she could just remain locked up in that room, as she’d done all evening. I’d almost knocked on her door after McKelty went to bed. I stood outside the door like some sort of fool, standing in the hallway of my own house, afraid to disturb a woman who was here at my request. I still felt stupid. Yet, I never did bring myself to knock.

I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans that were discarded over the back of a chair. I crossed the hall and peeked in on McKelty before going downstairs. I thought she might be in the kitchen, looking for something to eat again. There was a bean and rice casserole in the freezer that I’d been looking forward to eating. I thought I might warm that up for us. But the kitchen was deserted when I got there.

I backtracked, walking slowly through the house. I should have seen her when I passed by the first time, but she hadn’t turned on any lights when she slipped out onto the back deck. As usual, she had her phone in her hands, but she didn’t seem to be talking to anyone.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

She jumped a little, her shoulders stiffening. She reached up and rubbed her cheeks almost as if she was…
hell!
Did I interrupt a crying jag?

She turned before I could say anything, her head lowered, and her hair falling over her face. I couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t read the expression on her face. She started to walk past me back into the house, but I grabbed her arm before I even knew I was going to move.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, her head still lowered.

“It must be hard, being around all those kids all day long.”

She looked up at me then, her eyes wide with surprise. And then those beautiful eyes narrowed as she put two and two together, figuring out what I was referring to. She touched my chest lightly with the tip of her index finger and then a questioning gesture.

How did I know?

“There are articles on the internet. It wasn’t hard to find.”

She shook her head. Another questioning gesture.

“I was just curious.”

She stomped her foot, then typed something into her phone. I didn’t have my phone with me, so she held it up so I could read her words from her phone.

Who told you?

“No one,” I said, stretching the truth a little. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Ash had only told me where to look, not what to look for.

She studied me, her eyes still narrowed. She was clearly angry. She made a puffing noise, then pulled away from me and headed to the door.

I couldn’t let her go.

I followed her and grabbed her arm again just as she reached the door, turning her so that she was pressed against the glass of the French door, her body pinned between it and me. We were so close I could smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the heat of her breath against my chest.

“Why are you so angry?”

She glared up at me, but I had her arms pinned so that she couldn’t use her phone.

“Don’t you think I had a right to know if your decision not to speak could endanger my daughter? You are here, after all, to keep her safe.”

She jerked her arm, but she only had so much movement because of the way I was holding her. However, the expressions dancing over her face and in her eyes told me just as much as those gestures might have done.

“I’ve never had to trust so many strangers with my daughter’s life before. I’ve never had a stranger living in my house before. And all these damn cameras…”

I couldn’t see the cameras, but just knowing they were there drove me crazy. I was afraid to do just about anything. What if someone saw something they didn’t like and called the police? I’ve heard horror stories of worse things happening to single fathers of little girls. How did I know I could trust whoever was on the other end of those video feeds? How did I know he wasn’t paying more attention to my daughter and me than the potential threat looming beyond these four walls?

Her expression softened. She nodded slowly, her eyes darting to a spot just above us in the eaves of the house’s trim. And then she focused on me again, tugging at her arm until I let it go. I let both her arms go, thinking she was going to walk away from me again. Instead, she pressed her hand to the center of my chest.

I touched her hip, instantly aroused by the soft material of her shorts that seemed to bunch beneath my touch. Her upper thigh was tan and strong, the thigh of a slender woman who’s not a stranger to physical activity. My fingertips brushed the silky skin there, as I braced myself with my other arm over her head, and I leaned close, my lips close enough to hers that I could almost taste her kiss. I
so
wanted to taste that kiss.

I slid my hand slowly down over her thigh then around to the back of her leg, my hand moving up under the flimsy material of her shorts until the curve of her ass was resting in my palm. She watched me, so many things dancing through her eyes that I couldn’t quite catch it all. But she wasn’t pulling away. In fact, her hand slid up the length of my chest, her fingers slipping over my throat, my pounding pulse beating against her palm.

I touched my forehead to hers, my hand sliding deeper under her shorts. My fingers brushed the moist folds of her outer lips, the little sigh slipping from her lips encouraging them to move closer, to touch more. Our lips brushed, and she raised her head, reaching for me. But then her phone buzzed in her hand and she stiffened.

It was a text message, but I couldn’t see what it said. But whatever it said made her pull away, a blush burning on her cheeks. She gestured toward the house, then disappeared, rushing across the sitting room and disappearing up the stairs.

I stood there for a long time, my heart pounding.

That was the closest I’d been to a woman in a long time. Years, in fact.

I wanted to chase after her. I wanted to pick her up and throw her onto my bed, show her what a real man could do with a woman as beautiful and perfect as she was. I wanted to…there were so many things I wanted to do to her. I wanted to taste her, to feel her move beneath my body, to hear her moan in pleasure. I wanted to see her face twisted in pleasure, wanted to see what it looked like when a woman that completely in-charge looked like when she finally lost control. As crude as it might sound, I wanted to see her cum over and over again. And then I wanted to lose control myself and fill her with life, with the life she was denying herself.

How fucked up was that? I barely knew her, yet I felt like I’d known her all my life. Maybe it was because I knew now that we had more in common than she could ever imagine. We were both destroyed by the deaths of people we loved. If only she knew what I’d done.

She’d probably go running for the hills if she knew.

Joss

Should I be jealous?

I knew Kirkland meant it as a joke, but the fact that he was watching, that he and David were standing there at David’s workstation, watching me and Carrington doing…
God
, how could I let myself get into such a situation?

I took the stairs two at a time, rushing up to the guest room I was using, leaning against the door as I tried to catch my breath. What the hell was I thinking? What was I doing? Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I went into the bathroom and closed the door, hiding there from the cameras that had never bothered me before, but were suddenly everywhere, suddenly so invasive.

I couldn’t breathe. Panic was building in my chest like a crushing force. I dropped to my knees, tears rushing down my cheeks. I felt my phone vibrate, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t be this person. I couldn’t be attracted to a client; I couldn’t kiss him and pretend it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t turn against my marriage vows as if they no longer mattered.

I thought of Esteban, of the taste of his kiss. It had been so long; the memory was beginning to fade. Yet, I could still remember his touch, could still remember the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled at me.

“It’ll just take ten minutes, mi amor,” he’d said. “You won’t even have time to stick one toe in the bath water.”

He’d taken the baby with him that night so that I could have a few minutes. I wanted to take a long bath, something I’d grown to love while I was pregnant, but hadn’t had the time to do since Isaac was born. And Esteban knew that. He had to run up to the school to pick up some papers he’d forgotten to bring home. He needed to grade some essays his seniors had done last week and he’d been putting off, but he forgot them on his desk. Ten minutes. I was so into the hot water and the silky bubbles that I didn’t even realize he was late until I stepped out of the tub and stuck my head out the door, calling for him. And he didn’t answer.

Then the police lights were in the front yard, flashing off the dark living room walls.

“There’s been an accident, Mrs. Hernandez. I’m sorry to tell you…”

I sat at the hospital for hours that night, waiting. Waiting for Isaac to come out of surgery, waiting for the doctors to sign Esteban’s death certificate. Waiting for Esteban’s mother to answer the phone. Waiting to see his body, cleaned, but naked, on the morgue table.

Waiting. It seems like all I’ve done since that night was wait.

And now…I wanted to stop waiting. But how could I? That would mean leaving my family behind me, and I wasn’t sure I could do that.

I buried my face against my knees, the tears dripping over my legs, leaving a long strip of wetness. My phone kept vibrating. Every few seconds it would vibrate. I ignored it.

There was only so much of Kirkland I could take tonight.

I eventually fell asleep, sleeping there on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. The alarm on my phone woke me a little before six. I got up and stared at myself in the mirror, at the red puffy eyes that looked back at me. It reminded me of the few days after their funerals…when I managed to get out of bed. My eyes were always so swollen then that it looked like I’d been beaten. I felt like I had been. But it didn’t matter to me then. I’d made a decision, I just hadn’t found the means to follow through. But I’d made the choice, and the moment the person responsible for their deaths was punished, I was going to go.

Funny how things change.

I washed my face with cold water and ran a comb through my hair, tugging it back into the ponytail I wore most every day. Brushed my teeth. Ran through my normal routine as if nothing had happened last night.

I was in the kitchen before him. I started the coffee and turned on the water for the oatmeal. He came into the room and seemed somewhat surprised to see me. I nodded politely, then curled up on the bench on the far side of the breakfast nook. I had more than fifty text messages, even a few calls, all from Kirkland. I was reading through them, feeling a little bad for leaving Kirkland hanging last night, when a message came from Ash.

Emily identified the photographer. Ellis Grant. He works for the Bazarov Cartel.

I bit back a groan. We’d come up against the Bazarov Cartel once. It was right after I started working for Ash. They were harassing a real estate developer who was trying to build a set of condos close to what they considered their territory in the valley. It was one of the first cases I worked with Emily Warren, and one that came the closest to actual physical danger to both my target and me. Definitely not the news I was hoping to hear.

Should we be worried?

Be vigilant.

That didn’t tell me anything. I was always vigilant.

I set the phone down and sighed. Carrington looked over at me.

“Bad news?”

I nodded. I carried my phone over to him and showed him the texts from Ash.

“I could have told them that. It was the Bazarovs who wanted to use my shipping company as a drug transporter.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering how ruthless those people were in harassing my client. The poor woman had been afraid to come out of her bedroom when we first took the case. And when they actually came at us as we drove down the street, machine guns poking out their car windows like some bad scene from a movie, I was more convinced in that moment that I was about to die than I had been when I faced down an insurgent in Afghanistan.

Carrington was watching my face closely. “You’re really worried.”

I started to nod, but McKelty came prancing into the room, her thick, red hair bouncing in all its unruliness as she did.

“Morning, Joss,” she said with a big smile.

“Don’t I get a good morning?” Carrington asked.

McKelty pretended to ignore him for a moment, then she ran into his arms and gave him a huge hug. I remembered holding my son and thinking about moments like this, what it would be like to hold his hand when he walked into the first day of school, how it would feel when his kisses were more about affection than a response to a request. What it would be like to hug him when he wasn’t covered in sticky graham cracker crumbs and fresh fruit juice.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to watch Carrington with McKelty. But there was something reassuring about it, too. At least someone out there found happiness with their child. At least there were still kids in the world who were healthy, happy, and safe.

My job didn’t exactly offer much hope in that arena. There was so much bad in the world, and my narrow point of view was overwhelmed with it sometimes.

“You get up early,” McKelty said, as her dad set her back down on the floor.

I planted my feet on the floor the way I would a surfboard and held my arms up, doing the motions I might do when riding a big wave. Carrington watched, his eyes moving slowly over my high-waist slacks and my simple blue blouse, his eyes lingering on the places he’d touched last night. I felt the blush burn across my cheeks even as McKelty figured out what I was doing.

“You’re surfing!” she cried, pointing at me. “You like to go surfing.”

I nodded.

“The best waves are just as the sun comes up,” Carrington said. “That’s why she’s up so early.”

I nodded again, touching the end of my nose to let him know he got it exactly right.

“Cool,” McKelty said. “Would you take me sometime? My dad says it’s too dangerous, but I think I’m old enough now.”

I shrugged, then pointed to Carrington.

McKelty groaned. “Why is it always up to him?”

“Because I’m your dad, kiddo. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I thought it was Joss’ job.”

“Touché,” Carrington said, winking at me. “The kid’s pretty smart.”

He motioned for McKelty to take a seat at the breakfast nook as he turned to spoon the oatmeal into bowls. I turned to help him and our fingers brushed on the side of one bowl. He was standing so close to me that my shoulder kept rubbing against his ribs. I should have moved away, but the feel of him there, the heat of his skin made my soul feel alive in a way it hadn’t in too long. It was so confusing…these needs that kept building inside of me but were mixed with the grief that had never really gone away.

I loved my husband. Why was I even thinking of touching another man, let alone sharing his bed?

I carried my bowl of oatmeal to the table while Carrington followed with his and McKelty’s. He asked McKelty about her homework, and she assured him she’d finished it all.

“It’s only the start of the year, Daddy,” she said. “There isn’t that much work to do just yet.”

“Yes, well, all homework is important,
even
when it’s just the start of the year.”

“Did your dad yell at you about homework all the time, Joss?”

I shook my head.

“You’re lucky.”

I shook my head again. Then I started to make a sort of slashing gesture, but thought better of it. Instead, I opened a note-taking app on my phone and wrote: My dad died when I was a kid.

McKelty read that and this sad, grief-stricken look crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

It was a long time ago,
I wrote.

She read the words slowly. Then she looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “My mom died when I was a baby. I never really knew her.”

My mom’s gone, too. Sometimes life is just too hard for people.

McKelty nodded. Carrington, however, looked sharply at me, a new interest in his eyes. I wasn’t sure what it was that he was reacting to, but I hoped he didn’t think I was overstepping my boundaries. He didn’t say anything. He just changed the subject.

“Hurry with your breakfast so I’ll have time to do your hair before we have to go.”

“Can I have a ponytail like Joss?”

Carrington glanced at me. “I suppose, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “I think it’s pretty.”

I blushed again when Carrington’s eyes moved slowly over me.

“It is,” he agreed.

***

We arrived at the school a little early. Children were running around in the playground as parents walked their children up to the front door. McKelty spotted a friend waiting for her just inside the playground gate. She dropped a kiss on Carrington’s cheek before jumping out of the car without so much as a goodbye.

“She forgot her lunch,” Carrington said, holding up a small bag with a popular Disney character on the front.

I took it and pressed my hand to my heart. I’d make sure she got it.

“Joss,” Carrington said, snagging my wrist before I could get out of the car, “about last night…”

I shook my head. It was fine.

He nodded, but then his hand brushed my cheek, his fingers lingering on my jaw. I touched the back of his hand, then slipped out of the car. Before my feet even touched the ground, Kirkland had his hands around my waist.

“Why the hell didn’t you answer my texts?” he demanded.

I glared at him, knocking his hands away as I tried to move around him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

“I was worried. I saw you—”

“Why don’t you leave her alone?”

Carrington had come around the car and was standing behind me. I turned, gestured for him to go back to the car, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring Kirkland down with that macho, I’m-stronger-than-you look that guys tend to get when they face off over a woman. When I turned again, Kirkland had his hands on his hips and the same expression on his face.

I put my hand on his chest and shook my head as hard as I could, hard enough that I was seeing stars.

“This is none of your business,” Kirkland said to Carrington.

“I think you got that backward.”

“You are just a client. In a week or two, when she’s saved your ass from whoever’s harassing you, she’ll be gone from your life, but she’ll always be a part of my life.”

I slapped Kirkland’s chest, trying to get his attention. He grabbed my wrist, pinching it between his fingers so hard that pain flashed through my arm. I grunted, the only sound I’ve made in over four years, forcing him to look at me.

I held up a hand in a “stop” gesture, making a face that I hoped was deadly serious.

“You can’t do this, Joss,” he said. “You can’t ignore my texts and expect me to be okay with that.”

I slapped his chest again, then held up my hand in a “stop” gesture. Again.

He stared at me for a long minute, then his eyes flashed to Carrington. “You hurt her and I won’t be the only one you’ll have to deal with.”

“I don’t think I’m the one hurting her right now,” Carrington said, his voice low and controlled.

Kirkland just nodded. Then his eyes fell to me again.

“Answer your fucking texts,” he growled near my ear. Then he let me go with a little shove, getting lost in the crowd before I could do more than catch myself against the car door.

“What the hell was that?” Carrington demanded.

I shrugged. I had no idea. I’d never seen that side of Kirkland.