Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) (16 page)

“Stay with me.”

“What? I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because . . . just because, Micah. That’s crazy.”

“What’s crazy is you have an abusive ex out to get you and you wanna argue about staying with me and letting me take care of you.”

“Is that what you want? To take care of me?”

“Fuck, yes. More than anything.” God, it was true. I had a burning, aching need to wrap this woman up in whatever warmth and protection I could provide. It was primal, but no less real.

“Will we still be doing the baby steps, being together thing, or is that on hold now?”

I gazed into her eerily green eyes. “Whatever you want.”

“You sure I won’t be intruding?”

“Jesus, baby. You
not
being there would be worse. Just say yes.”

“Okay. Yes. But only for a little while.”

I agreed even though I knew it would be over my dead body she would be alone with that guy still on the loose.

While she packed up her essentials, I called Blake at the shop and gave a cursory explanation, telling him I wouldn’t be in today.

“She’s all right, man?” he asked, obviously concerned for his wife’s cousin.

“She’s fine. And she’s going to stay that way. That’s a promise.”

“Thanks, Micah.”

“No need to thank me. It’s my job.” I ended the call before he could question me and faced Jewel when she walked in, suitcase in hand.

She glanced at the phone in my hand and I wondered how much of that call she’d heard. “I packed what I could. Guess I can come back later if I need something else.”

I hefted the suitcase and led her to the Jeep, my eyes peeled around the parking lot for the blue sedan she’d described. Nothing. No sign of anyone following us either.

Back at my apartment, she stood in the doorway, her face painted with uncertainty. “You’re really sure about this?”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I ushered her inside and down the hall to the guestroom. I placed her suitcase on the bed and offered her the best smile I could, though I was still simmering with emotional muck.

“Do you still have to work today?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I called in after . . .”

“Me, too.”

Her eyes flew to mine. “You did?”

“You didn’t actually think I’d leave you here alone, did you?”

“Well, I’m not sure what to think, honestly.”

I brushed her bottom lip with my thumb. “Just unpack, make yourself at home. I’ll go work on some stuff for the shop on the computer and give you some time to get settled in.”

I pried myself away from her and planted myself with my laptop at the dining room table. I booted it up and sorted through my emails first. An unopened email from Sergeant Dempsey dated the day after we had lunch sat at the top.

I finally clicked it open.

Hey, Corporal.

Thanks for meeting me for lunch. It was great to see you again. Fishing was great with my dad, landed a 200lb Marlin. Pretty badass.

Hope you thought on what we talked about. It’s time to leave the past in the past and move on. For all of us. Here are the email and physical addresses for Mr. and Mrs. Martinez and Franks’ grandma, who raised him.

It’ll be okay, Micah.

Take care of yourself.

Wyatt

(Sarg to you!)

I glanced up when I heard the shower hiss to life in the guest bathroom. I hoped Jewel would be comfortable with me. I wasn’t known to be the best roommate. I turned back to Dempsey’s email and the addresses in Ohio and Maine he’d provided. Could I do it? What would it solve?

I shut down my email and booted up the bookkeeping stuff for the shop to divert the ugly thoughts already starting to crowd my brain.

I worked for a while before I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from Jewel since the shower cut off over an hour ago. I stood and padded down the hall. Her bedroom door was cracked so I peeked in. She was curled up on her side, sound asleep. Her mouth was parted slightly as she breathed, long lashes fanned her cheeks, golden hair was spread across the navy blue pillowcase like the sun streaking over the ocean.

I quietly slipped in and covered her with a throw blanket before closing her door behind me to let her rest. I was well aware how exhausting trauma could be.

I sat back at my computer, the cursor blinking at me. I couldn’t concentrate. Between what happened with Jewel this morning and Dempsey’s email, I was at a loss. Frozen in indecision.

Unable to do anything else, I opened a blank page to compose an email. I started with the parents of my closest friend.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Martinez,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write to you. Honestly, I haven’t known what to say and I don’t want to cause you more pain. Juan was my best friend in Afghanistan and he talked about you a lot. I can almost taste your tamales because he talked about those almost as much.

Juan’s death has tortured me since that day. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. Please know, if there was any way I could take it all back, erase it or take his place, I would in a heartbeat. I killed your son. I killed my best friend, and I’ll go to my grave regretting it . . .

I dropped my head into my hand. I could never send this letter.

“You okay?”

I snapped up at Jewel’s soft words and quickly closed my laptop. “Yeah.” I cleared the emotion from my throat. “Get a good nap?”

She pulled out the chair next to mine and sat. “Yes. Thanks.”

I bit my lip and studied her face. “Can I do anything for you? Do you need anything at all?”

Her smile grew like a flower blossoming, timid at first, then emboldened. “You are a sweetheart, Micah Christian.”

I shifted, uncomfortable.

“What are your thoughts on seafood?” she finally asked.

“Seafood?”

“Yeah. Shrimp? Crab? Fish? Do you like it?”

“Sure.”

“If you take me to the store, I’ll buy stuff and cook for you tonight.”

This was a first for me. “Yeah?”

“It’s the least I can do since you’re letting me stay here.”

“Okay.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll need you to take me to pick up my truck, too, when you have time.”

“I don’t mind.”

We picked up her truck and a few items at her apartment she’d forgotten, drove it all back to my place, then headed to the store. I had no idea what an adventure I was in for.

We spent probably twenty minutes perusing every single selection in the seafood department before she finally settled on salmon and sides she deemed “healthy enough.” I laughed at her attempts to decide if pasta counted.

“Whole wheat is still a carb, right?” she asked, her face serious.

I tossed the package in the basket. “It’s fine. Remember, balance.”

“Right.” She moved on to the veggies and I followed, enjoying the view.

“Jewel?”

I was at attention in a nanosecond at the man’s voice behind us, putting myself between them. I spun, fists already clenched, only to find a tall guy wearing a police uniform. She glanced between us, taking note of my protective stance with a frown.

“Hey, Officer Varga,” she said behind me.

“Everything all right? Curry said he got called out to your place this morning.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine now.”

I caught her out of the corner of my eye as she stepped forward, but I was relieved when she unconsciously kept close to my side. I made a mental note to keep teaching her more than what we covered in self-defense class. I couldn’t be around all the time and I wanted her to be able to protect herself.

Officer Varga chatted her up a couple more minutes then finally moved on. I frowned at his back, trying to decide if he’d hit on her. He was subtle, but I caught definite flirty overtones.

“You date him?” I asked, my voice low.

“No.”

I faced her. “Good.”

She was grinning as we moved on toward the produce. “Are you jealous, Micah?”

“No.”

She laughed. “Okay.” She only laughed harder when I narrowed my eyes at her over the display of avocadoes. “You are an adorable liar. I’m flattered.”

I grabbed a ripe avocado and tossed it to her to put in the cart. “Just so we’re clear, you have no plans to go out with him in the future either, right?”

She grabbed a bag for a bunch of celery. “Nope.” She glanced my way. “Why?”

“Call me selfish, but I don’t share, Jewel. If we’re doing this thing, we do it together. No one else.”

She was close enough I could smell her honeysuckle scent as she gazed up at me. “That goes both ways?”

“Of course.” What kind of question was that?

Right there, in front of God, the tomatoes, and everybody, she speared her fingers through my hair and drug me close. “Together.”

“Together,” I echoed as her lips closed over mine. Her kiss was soft and sweet then fierce and fast. Just like my feelings for her.

She drew back with a sigh. “What are you doing to me?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Hell if I know, darlin’. Probably the same thing you’re doing to me.”

Jewel

I
cooked Micah dinner and it turned out reasonably well. We ate and grilled each other with more questions. Favorite alcoholic drinks. Childhood toys. Sports teams we loved. Foods, colors, movies, music, cars, art, books . . . on and on, long into the night.

I’d broken down my walls and let him in, telling him the truth about Nolan, and he didn’t seem to treat me any different. If anything, he’d become more protective and sweet. I, of course, asked him about Afghanistan again, but he passed. Again. I wanted him to be ready, but I was beginning to wonder if he ever would be.

Before we went to bed, I reluctantly agreed to let him drive me to work for a while. Hopefully Nolan would go away or do something stupid and get caught soon and this would finally be over. It just scared me what he’d have to do to get arrested. I knew what he was capable of, but for once, I was strong enough to fight back.

I snuggled under the covers of Micah’s guest bed and tried to read, but all I could think about was that he was just across the hall. I wondered what he slept in, what it would feel like to lay in his arms in bed. To make love with him.

I would’ve never thought someone like him could ever be attracted to someone like me, but he was proving it to me a little more every day in a thousand tiny ways. The heated glimpses from his deep, dark, endless eyes. The way he’d smile only for me. How open he was with his life. How he wanted to protect me. The way he kissed me like I was made just for him.

Giving up, I put my book away, shut off the light, and curled up to try and sleep. The new sounds of his home at night kept me up for a while, but I eventually drifted.

Moments later, my eyes snapped open and I stared into utter darkness, searching for my bearings. Why was my heart fighting to leap from my chest? I rolled over and listened for what had woken me.

A low, keening cry drifted through my door.

Was that a child? A wounded animal?

I threw off my covers and padded cautiously to the door, cracking it to peek out into the dark hallway. Nothing moved.

Just as my heartrate began to slow, it came again, louder this time. The primal noise of agony ripped at my heart.

Micah.

I ran to his door then froze, debating whether I should knock or not. Something was obviously very wrong, but I didn’t want to invade his privacy uninvited.

“No!” His voice cracked like it was coated in tears. Or fear.

Without another thought, I opened his door, thankful he hadn’t locked it. His dark form was huddled under the covers, thrashing and moaning as a nightmare consumed him.

I watched over him a moment, unsure what to do. I’d heard somewhere you shouldn’t wake someone up in the middle of a dream, especially a veteran who suffered PTSD. It was painfully clear to me that was what was happening, and I hated I hadn’t put that together before now. I understood nightmares better than most.