Mixing Temptation (14 page)

 

Chapter 16

C
AROLINE PICKED UP
the hotel phone at nine-­thirty that evening and dialed the number Lily had sent to Josh's cell. They'd tried once earlier—­after they'd shared a shower and pizza—­but they'd reached Helena and Ashford's answering machine.

“Hello?” a soft, female voice said.

Her pulse quickened. “Helena? Please don't hang up,” she said quickly as Josh sat down on the bed next to her. “This is Caroline. We met on your trip to Forever and I stopped by today with Josh Summers. We'd like to meet with you. Sit down and talk to you. At our hotel or—­”

“I can't come meet you,” Helena whispered urgently. “Not tonight.”

Josh leaned in to hear and she tilted the phone. “What about tomorrow?” she asked as footsteps sounded in the background. “I just want to offer you a way out if you want it. Someone to talk to—­”

“Why?”

Her voice was so low that Caroline almost missed the word. “Because your friend, Noah Tager, he was there for me when I needed help. He stood up for me. He tried to save me. And as soon as I knew I wasn't alone . . . I fought back.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She could still picture the first time Noah had fallen in step beside her while she walked across the base. At first she'd thought she'd misjudged him. He'd seemed like one of the good guys and now she'd have to fight him off too. And probably lose given his tall, muscular frame. He'd win, just like Dustin had won, even if she fought.

But then Noah had stopped by the bathroom door and murmured
I'll walk you back when you'
re done. He won't get to you while I'm standing here.

“You're not alone,” Caroline said to the woman on the other line.

“You can't help me.”

The whisper shot through the phone and Caroline's stomach dropped. “Just don't hang up,” she said. “Please, Helena.”

“Who are you talking to?” a man's deep baritone asked. He didn't raise his voice. But he didn't need to. The sound carried. And Caroline recognized the implied threat in his seemingly harmless words.

“Someone from the club,” Helena answered quickly. “About a tennis match.”

Oh no, lies are never a good sign. . .

“At nine-­thirty at night?” he said.

“An emergency,” Helena called, her voice slightly muffled as if she'd partially covered the receiver.

“Who is it?” he asked, his tone low and threaded with steel. “Who are you talking to?”

Helena hesitated. Caroline heard the unsteady hiss of breath and she knew the woman on the other end of the line had waited too long.

“Hang up.” The man's words were barely audible through the phone.

“Yes,” Helena said. And then, “I'm sorry, I—­”

“Hang up,” he barked.

Caroline waited for the line to go dead, her chest rising and falling with one trembling breath after another. Tension rippled through her. But instead she heard a shuffling. A tap as if the phone had been dropped, or maybe placed somewhere?

She looked over at Josh. His brow was furrowed and his expression focused. He glanced over at her and mouthed the words
we listen.

But Caroline wasn't sure she wanted to hear what came next. What if—­

“Get on the bed,” the deep male voice said.

Caroline covered the receiver. If they weren't silent, they would give her away. And if Helena had been trying to prove a point, if she wanted to show them once and for all that her husband wasn't hurting her, then they might be here for a while. But if she was reaching out and asking for help . . .

A chill ran down her spine. She realized that being able to empathize with Helena didn't necessarily make her the best person for this mission. But they were here now and they would find a way to deliver whatever she needed.

“I'll be right there,” Helena called, her tone bright and cheerful.

Caroline drew her lower lip between her teeth. If they'd made a mistake coming down here—­

“Now!”
The male voice—­presumably Helena's husband—­boomed through the hotel receiver.

And Caroline jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Josh wrapped his arm around her and held her to his side. The phone remained between them, cradled in her grasp. She heard footsteps, followed by a rustling. Sheets? Discarded clothes?

And then a soft moan.

“No, Ash,” Helena murmured. “Not right now. I'm not ready.”

“You don't say no,” he growled. Ashford—­her husband—­Caroline thought as she mentally assigned the name to the baritone.

“Please,” Helena said. “Just let me—­”

“You don't say no, baby. Not to me,” her husband said. “Now lie down on the bed.”

He's going to rape her. Right now. While we listen. . .

It didn't matter that he was her husband. The fact that Helena had trusted him once upon a time only made it worse. She'd made promises to him.

But that doesn't strip away her right to say no.

“I'm calling the police,” Josh murmured, his voice a low growl. He stood and withdrew his cell from the front pocket of his jeans. He moved toward the bathroom and stepped inside to place the call. But he kept the door open and his gaze fixed on her.

Josh returned, his cell in hand, and leaned down to her ear. “The police are on their way. We should meet them. They will need our statements.”

She nodded. But she knew the cops would require more than that. She's seen the size of Ashford's house. They would need proof if Helena had any hope of breaking free from a man like that. And Caroline guessed Helena had known that from the beginning. She couldn't run from her husband. Helena had to fight. And for that, she needed hard evidence.

She grabbed Josh's phone and pressed buttons until she found the one she needed.

Record.

J
OSH GLANCED AT
the clock on the nightstand. A matter of minutes had passed since he'd hung up with the local cops, but they had to go soon and meet the police. Shit, he wanted to leave Caroline behind, but he would need help getting Helena away from that place. And he didn't want Caroline to be alone.

Talk about a trigger. This one is a fucking nightmare.

If he'd known their little road trip would end with them listening to a woman's husband taking her against her will, he would have demanded that Noah, Dominic—­anyone else—­go on this mission. He'd honestly thought they'd get here, hit the roadblock they'd met today—­Helena turning them away at the door—­and head back to Forever.

“Caroline?” he murmured. He ran his hand down her arm and took his cell. The sounds on the other line had stopped. He ended the recording, pocketed the phone, and reached for her hand. “We need to go.”

“OK.” She stood and took his hand. And then glanced at her backpack, resting beside the hotel bed. “I should get my—­”

“No guns,” he said. “We called in the cavalry. Let them bring the firepower. We don't want questions about permits that we can't answer.”

“You're right,” she said slowly. “But I could bring the bag and leave it in the car. Just in case.”

“No.” He drew her toward the door. “Trust me on this.”

He led her to the elevator bank and down to the garage where they'd parked his truck. Guiding her into the passenger seat, he fastened her belt. Then he climbed in and drove as fast as he could to Helena's gated community. He offered the wide-­eyed night security guard a rushed explanation. But as soon as he said he was with the cops, the guard waved them through.

“Wait here,” Josh said as they pulled up in front. The lights were on in the entry and he saw Ashford standing in the doorway talking to a pair of uniformed policemen.

One look and Josh wanted to take aim at Asshole Ashford's face. He wanted to leave bloodstains on the man's silk bathrobe. Helena's husband probably worked out. There had to be a gym somewhere in his enormous house. But Josh could still take him.

Right here on your freaking perfect lawn, asshole.

He approached the front door. “Evening, officers. Josh Summers. I'm the one who placed the call.”

“My wife's not home tonight,” Ashford said sharply. “I don't know what kind of prank you're trying to pull here, but I'll say good-­night now.”

Ashford moved to close the door, but Josh said, “I don't think so.”

He held out his phone and pressed play on the recording. Helena's pleading filled the quiet.

“Where did you get that?” Ashford demanded.

The officers' eyes widened at the man in the bathrobe that probably cost half their salary. And Josh looked too, just in time to see a fist swing at his face.

 

Chapter 17

C
AROLINE TRANSLATED
WAIT
in the truck
to
stay here until someone starts throwing punches
. She saw Josh dodge the blow as she slammed the passenger door. She raced over the manicured lawn and leaped over the hedges.

By the time the policemen grabbed Ashford and hauled the bastard's arms behind his back, she'd reached the front door. She kept going. She heard one officer reciting the Miranda rights while the other radioed for backup.

Why the hell aren't they looking for Helena?

That jerk belonged in jail. But it didn't end there. Not for Helena.

“Helena!” Caroline called into the house. “Helena!”

Helena rushed into the foyer and Caroline froze. She blinked, taking in Helena's wild mane of blond hair. She'd traded her pretty pink dress from this afternoon for a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a black tank top. And she'd traded her heels for tennis shoes. She had a purse slung over her shoulder as if ready to make a break for it with or without the police presence.

“You came,” Helena said, rushing into the marble entryway.

Caroline caught the other woman in her arms and felt her break. With her face pressed against Caroline's shoulder, Helena wept. She wrapped her arms around Caroline and held on tight.

“We're going to get you out of here,” Caroline murmured. “We'll take you home.”

And that was all she could promise. She squeezed her eyes shut.
This is how Noah felt,
she thought.
Hamstrung and useless.

“Helena, you're going to get through this,” she added, running her hand over Helena's disheveled hair. She couldn't offer the weeping woman anything beyond survival. They could take her away from here. They could deliver her to her friends and family. But no one could change the past or guarantee that Helena wouldn't spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for her past to tear her apart all over again.

Maybe Helena will be stronger. Maybe she'll break free from the past.

Caroline felt her own tears hot against her cheeks as Helena's fingers pressed into her skin.

Or maybe we're both out of second chances.

C
AROLINE WIPED AWAY
one last tear as she leaned against Helena's Mercedes-­Benz. She'd backed the car out of the garage while the woman they'd come to rescue spoke to the officers. Despite her initial rush onto the scene, Caroline was trying to stay in the background. But she couldn't exactly jump in the pristine hedges and hide every time an officer walked by her. Cops now swarmed the yellow mansion.

Standing on top of the redbrick stairs, just outside the front door, Helena nodded to the officers. She motioned for Caroline to join them. She walked over and placed her hand on Helena's still-­trembling arm.

“We'll need to speak with you again in the morning, Mrs. Watterson,” an older man with a weathered face and grey-­green eyes said. He wore plain clothes, a black polo and khakis. He'd arrived after the first two officers in uniform—­the ones who'd caught hold of Mr. Ashford Watterson when he'd taken a swing at Josh—­had radioed for backup. With his gentle smile and tall build, the officer in charge reminded Caroline of Josie's dad, Forever's police chief.

“If you change your mind about seeking medical attention,” the officer added. “Or a rape kit—­”

“No,” Helena said firmly. “I want to leave, to get away from here.”

The officer nodded. “I understand. I still need to ask you some questions in the morning.”

“If it's all right with you, sir,” Josh said, speaking directly to the Josie's dad look-­alike, “my friend here will take Mrs. Watterson back to our hotel. We're a five minute drive away. And we can bring her to the station in the morning—­or the hospital.”

The officer nodded and held out a business card to Helena. “Call me if you need anything, ma'am.”

She nodded and moved to Caroline's side. Helena took her hand. Together, they headed for the Benz.

“I'll need her name for the report,” the lead cop said. “Your friend's name.”

Caroline stumbled on the brick path to the driveway.
Her name.
Oh hell, this was it. If they ran her identity, they'd find the warrant. She would be arrested—­maybe not tonight, but in the morning.

She glanced at Helena. Even after all she'd been through, after what Caroline had heard through the open phone line, the other woman held her chin high.

If I end up in a cell . . . it was worth it.

The trip, the series of dates, and their crazy, poorly planned rescue—­if she lost her freedom in the morning, it would all have been worth it. She'd taken a chance. She'd made love to a man whom she loved. And she'd helped someone who needed her as much as she'd needed Noah. Maybe she hadn't been able to save herself and find the number for the hotline while stationed in the middle of nowhere in Afghanistan. But she'd saved Helena tonight.

It
's worth it.

Caroline glanced back at Josh.

Even if I lose him.

Her heart hiccupped. She'd fallen for Josh Summers and she didn't want to walk away.

“Caroline?” Helena murmured.

She turned away from Josh. Love wasn't enough. She took another step toward the parked Benz. As soon as Josh gave the officer her name, her second chance would crash and burn. Her happy-­ever-­after had been stripped away long before now, when she'd given in to fear and run away. Josh, their love, and their future—­it had been impossible from the start.

Settled into the driver's seat, Caroline took one last look at the redhead with the tempting smile chatting with the lead cop. She'd fallen for Josh. But what kind of future would they have if she stayed in hiding?

She put the car in reverse, looked over her shoulder, and guided the Benz down the drive. Failure had been closing in on her from the beginning. And there was only one thing she could do to stop it.

“When we get to the hotel,” Caroline said as she drove past the security gate, “I need to leave for a while. Before Josh gets back. You'll be safe and I don't think he'll be much longer.”

“You're running away?” Helena said. “Now?”

“No, I'm done running.”

“
H
ER NAME?
M
Y
friend's name?”

Josh searched for the right answer. He couldn't give Officer Peters the truth. He glanced over at the driveway and watched as the Benz backed out with Caroline at the wheel.

You can trust me to keep your secret safe.

He turned his attention back to the police officer. Josh offered a faint smile. “My friend's name is Josie Fair—­ No, sorry, she's Josie Tager now.”

He'd keep her secret all right. And he'd make an ass of himself while he spit out a simple little lie.

“She's recently married?” the officer asked as he scribbled in his notepad.

“Yes. Josie just tied the knot. But not to me,” Josh explained with a laugh. “We're just friends. I volunteered to drive her down here. To see her friend.”

The police officer nodded.

“So,” Josh said, clapping his hands together. “How much longer will you need me?”

Thirty minutes later, Josh pulled into the hotel garage, put his truck in park, and glanced down at his phone. Midnight. He should call Big Buck's and fill Noah, Dominic, and whoever else was at the bar in on what had happened tonight. But instead, he climbed out of his truck and pocketed his phone.

Later, he decided. First, he needed to see Caroline, hold her, and make damn sure she was all right. He bypassed the hotel's elevator bank in favor of the stairs. He took them two at a time until he reached the door to the fourth floor. It had been hard to get away from the cops and their questions or he would have been here before now to reassure her that he hadn't shared her name or her secret.

He'd lied for her. And he would maintain the charade, here and at home, whatever she needed to feel safe and stay in his life. He wouldn't lose her. Not to her past or anything else. They could pretend and lie to the rest of the world—­in his heart he knew the truth.

He slipped his card key into the door and opened it to the room. “It's Josh,” he announced as he stepped inside. He spotted Helena in the black desk chair. She held a tiny bottle of wine that looked as if it had come from the room's mini-­fridge. Another bottle sat on the desk, empty.

“Celebrating?” he asked as he glanced to the bathroom door. It was open. But there was no sign of Caroline.

“She left,” Helena said.

“Caroline went out?” He turned back to the woman they'd helped. He wouldn't say ‘rescued' because Caroline had been right, Helena had saved herself. “If I'd known you ladies were hungry, I would have stopped and picked something up on my way back.”

Helena pressed her lips together. She'd scrubbed off the makeup and looked years younger and a lot more vulnerable. “No, she called a cab. But she wrote you a note.”

Numbness descended. His body felt as if he'd been plunged into the Pacific's icy waters without a wet suit. But he managed to walk across the hotel room, past the spot where Caroline had . . .

Fuck, he couldn't picture her on her knees. He couldn't go backward through the memories, searching for a clue until he knew what the hell was going on. He took the folded piece of paper from the tipsy Helena and turned his back to her.

Flipping it open, he started to read. And shit, one sentence in and he needed a shot of something—­whiskey, vodka, or liquid rage—­anything to dull the damn pain of his heart shattering.

Dear Josh,

By the time you get this, I will be at the police station
.

Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . He'd been dodging failure, trying to navigate their complicated relationship like it was a damn minefield from the beginning. He'd worried her problems were too big and he'd been right.

He looked down at the paper and forced himself to keep reading.

It's time that I turned myself in and faced the consequences for running away from my duty to serve. Until I do, I will never have a chance at getting my life back on track. I can't ask you to love me and lie for me without dooming our relationship. You said something always happens next. And this is what's next for me.

I'm ready now to face my punishment. I will return to my unit if I have to, accept a demotion or serve my time in prison. But I will not let anyone make me feel like I need to be less ever again. I know now what happens when I push past ‘impossible.'

I fall in love.

I love you, Josh Summers. But don't you dare wait for me. Go back to Oregon and build your house. Take another chance on finding happiness. I'd hate to think we're limited to two shots. If we are, then I'
ve used mine up. And that, more than anything, feels impossible.

Love,

Caroline

PS: Take care of Helena. Try to talk her into the rape kit. The police need all the evidence they can get. Then bring her back to Forever. And when you get there, tell Noah I said thank you, but this time I needed to break free from my past on my own.

Josh stared at the note and read it through a second time, then a third. And the silence in the room, the lack of laughter and of Caroline's wry humor, the too-­serious tone of the letter—­it all added up to one sad truth. She was really gone.

He'd let a woman walk out of his life once before. Sure, he'd been a kid then. But he'd never tried to find his mom. He'd given up, accepted the hit, and moved on.

Not this time.

“When did she leave?” he demanded, turning to Helena.

“One bottle of wine before you returned?” Helena held up the empty minibar bottle that he'd spotted on the desk.

Shit.

“Can you stay here?” he asked. “Will you stay
right here
and wait for me to go get her?”

She nodded. “I might pass out.”

“The bed's all yours. Just whatever you do, don't run.” After this, after he found Caroline, he was done chasing women.

J
OSH PULLED INTO
the police station parking lot. He'd tried the one closest to the hotel first, but she wasn't there. He'd run into Officer Peters, the lead detective from their earlier adventure at Helena's house. He'd lied to the man earlier, but he didn't stop to explain that now. He'd begged the officer, who looked a helluva lot like Josie's dad, to find out if an AWOL Marine had turned herself in tonight.

The minutes had ticked by, but Officer Peters had made a few calls and learned that another station had contacted the military police. A fugitive was being transferred from civilian to military custody tonight.

Josh hugged the man and bolted from the station. He'd sped across town, hanging on his phone's every instruction, and hoping like hell he got there in time. The one-­story station house had a small, mostly empty parking lot. A black, unmarked sedan idled out front, but he didn't see signs of a Humvee. And that's what the military drove, not unmarked black cars sent out in the middle of the night . . .

But as he climbed down from his truck, the door to the station swung open. Two men in uniform—­one short, maybe five-­six in his boots, and another tall and built like a tank that refueled on fried food and sugar—­marched through the door. They each had one hand on a petite woman with long dark hair. Even with her hands behind her back and her head down, she looked like she had that first night in the Oregon woods—­a little wild and very fierce.

“Caroline,” he called. He spotted a third driver now, ready and waiting to take her away. He broke into an all-­out run. “Caroline, please!”