Trusting His Instincts, page 15
“The chain wasn’t on the door,” Raelynn says. “He was worried about Nash comin’ here. Stands to reckon he wouldn’t be careless with his own security.”
“Do you really think someone…killed him?” I’d just started to believe Hidden Agenda could protect me. That I’d be able to stay in Seattle—with Raelynn. But if Duncan was murdered…I’m not safe here. And neither is she.
Ryker rubs his palm over the back of his head. “I’d lay odds at 50-50. But we’re not going to get any answers standing around here.”
“What’s the plan, boss?” Raelynn brushes her hand against mine, and I link our fingers. The strength of her grip is the reassurance I need to tamp down the panic threatening to pull me under.
Ryker and West exchange a look. One that says they’ve had this conversation—or one just like it—before. “We call it in. Pretend to be on the housekeeping staff and report a dead body. I’ll find someone in the Medical Examiner’s office to pay off so they expedite the autopsy and notify next of kin.”
A bribe? Fuck. I don’t want to owe this man—or Raelynn—anything. But I have all of a thousand dollars to my name, and I’m pretty sure Ryker’s going to need a lot more than that. “I’ll pay you back.”
He’s repacking the suitcase, and though I wasn’t paying attention earlier, he clearly was as he puts everything back exactly as it was. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dropping Raelynn’s hand, I straighten my shoulders and try to look even a tenth as threatening as the man in front of me.
“I mean ‘no.’” He doesn’t elaborate.
Raelynn touches my back. “Let’s get out of here. Ry and West will have an easier time wipin’ the room if we’re not takin’ up space.”
“No. Not until he tells me—”
West steps between me and Ryker, and the intensity in his gaze has the protest dying in my throat. “This is what we do, Nash. Ry’s not going to go bankrupt for helping you. Or even notice the dent in his bank account. K&R isn’t…cheap. We do okay.”
“And Rip is a genius with investments,” Raelynn adds. “Damn helpful, since my house is a goddamn money pit.”
Pulling a thick, white cloth from his backpack, West starts to swipe it over the bedside table. “If someone did this, we’ll find them. You two head back to Raelynn’s. Stay inside and check in every few hours. We’ll know more soon.”
It’s an hour before we make it back to her place. Raelynn’s careful, winding through half a dozen neighborhoods, backtracking more than once to make sure no one can follow us.
We don’t say a word on the drive, though she steals glances at me from time to time. I’m numb. Shocked at Duncan’s death. Overwhelmed by how easily this group of people I just met accepted me, and how quickly they jumped into action to help. Terrified I’ll have to say goodbye to this woman I’m falling for.
Kiki comes running as soon as we walk into the house, meowing the whole way. Raelynn drops to her knees and scratches the cat behind the ears. “You’re a needy little thing. But you sure are cute. I’ll get you some food in a few minutes.”
Her smile lights up her entire face. When Kiki turns his attention to me, circling my ankles and butting his head against my shins, I set my backpack on the floor and join them.
“How’d you know?” Raelynn asks. With the cat flopped on his side between us, and the look in her eyes as she stares at him, I don’t need to ask what she means.
“Five or six years ago, I did a stint in Rio Vista, California. Small town, maybe ten thousand people.”
Her eyes light up. “I was stationed at Travis for six months. Way before your time. There was a burger place in Rio Vista with bottomless fries. Until my squadron discovered them.” She laughs, the sound almost wistful. “They stopped offerin’ refills after a couple of weeks. Probably for the best. We would’ve put them out of business.”
“One of the guys working at the hostel told me about them. He’d grown up there. Said he and his friends wanted to cry when they changed the menu.” Shaking my head, I wonder if there were other times our paths almost crossed over the years. “Some places, it’s easy to find work. Others…not so much. I needed something to do while I put up my flyers, and I started volunteering at the animal shelter. They’ll take almost anyone, and they don’t require a background check.” I shrug, unable to meet her gaze. There’s still so much of my life I haven’t shared with her. Kiki rolls over and starts licking my hand. “You can tell which dogs and cats have been there the longest. They look at every potential adopter with such hope in their eyes. I wanted to take them all home with me. But…when you don’t have a home to go to…”
“And Kiki had that same look?” she asks.
I nod, unsure how to tell her that the cat wasn’t the only one who needed love. Raelynn leans in and brushes her lips to mine.
She knows.
We all needed each other.
Raelynn
Pushing my empty breakfast plate away, I watch Nash work on his second helping of migas. “I’m gonna need to go shoppin’ this afternoon. Not used to cookin’ for two.”
“This,” he scoops up a forkful of eggs, “is amazing.”
“Ain’t nothin’ special.”
The way this man looks at me, it’s like I’ve given him the world. Not a haphazard skillet of eggs, salsa, cheese, and crushed tortilla chips.
“Raelynn.” He reaches across the corner of the table to take my hand. “Everything I own fits in one duffel bag. I’ve never had a bank account. Or a credit card. When I cook, it’s ramen, mac and cheese, and whatever fruits and vegetables I can scavenge out of the grocery store dumpster.”
I don’t know what to say. In all of our conversations, everything we’ve shared over the past two weeks, he’s never been this raw. This honest.
“Believe it or not, I like cookin’. I’ll run through all my mama’s recipes for you. As long as you do the dishes.”
“Deal,” he says quietly and scoops up the last bite of eggs.
“Tell me about your life, darlin’. Not the polished version you’ve been feedin’ me. The real one.”
He stares at the empty plate for a full minute before taking a long drag on his coffee.
“When Frank was alive, things were…more normal. We’d move to a new town, rent an old house or a halfway decent apartment for a year, and…live. My clothes came from Goodwill, but I had a cell phone. A second-hand computer. Basic cable. At least until I turned twenty-three.”
“What happened then?” I’m not sure I want to know.
“I left.” He runs a hand through his thick hair. A few wisps of gray catch the light amid the brown. “Frank moved us to Reno. It was hot and dry and I was so fucking sick of not being in control of my own destiny. I thought…” Squeezing his eyes shut, he sighs. “Pretty sure everyone’s an idiot at twenty-three.”
Nash picks up our plates and carries them into the kitchen. I follow, leaning against the counter when he turns on the faucet.
“Even after…I did okay for a while. We had a joint bank account. Frank saved every penny, so if I needed money, I had somewhere to go. Until he got sick. Cancer’s fucking expensive when you don’t have insurance.”
His shoulders slump, and I reach over and turn off the water. “Nash, look at me.”
In his gaze, I find a mirror to my own sorrow. But his goes deeper.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a flattened penny. “Frank used to call me the luckiest kid on the planet. I never believed him. It’s not lucky to lose everyone you love. Everyone who loves you.” The penny tumbles from one finger to another, the move so practiced, he can probably do it in his sleep. “I’ve been running so long, I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You ain’t alone anymore, darlin’.” He wraps his arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “You can find a home here.”
“Not if Duncan—”
Drawing back, I grip his shoulders. “Even if Duncan’s death wasn’t an accident. Ryker don’t give up, and neither do I.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “So, what happens now?”
“We wait.” The answer doesn’t sit well—with either of us—but there ain’t much else we can do. “Tank and Graham are takin’ turns sittin’ on Broadcast in case Diego comes back. Ry has a contact at the M.E.’s office, but they still need to complete the autopsy.”
Nash flinches. Shit. He might not have known Duncan well, but the man was the last connection to his family.
“We’ll know more this afternoon, darlin’. Until then…”
A hint of a spark flashes in his eyes. “Again? I’m game if you are, but, we’re going to need to hydrate first.”
We both laugh. I’m about to reach for him when Kiki bounds into the kitchen and leaps onto the counter. With laser focus, he starts cleaning the last bits of egg and cheese off one of the plates.
“Nope. That shit ain’t gonna fly here, you little monster. Off.” Scooping him up, I give him a firm “no” and set him on the floor. Kiki meows once, expressing his displeasure, and flounces back into the living room.
“Dishes first,” Nash says. “Fun later.”
Nash
Raelynn carries a piece of plywood into the living room. “This big enough for you?”
I nudge the sawhorses closer together. “Perfect. Since I can’t do this outside…”
“It ain’t safe. We talked about this…”
We position the wood to form a makeshift table before covering it with a drop cloth. “I know. I’m going to open the windows, though. Otherwise, the fumes could do us in.”
“It’s gonna be that bad?” She pushes up her sleeves, staring at the brushes and can of primer sitting against the wall.
“Depends. Your cabinet doors have so many layers of paint on them, it might take me a week to strip them first.”
Laying the first one on the plywood, I pass Raelynn a screwdriver. “You can start on the hinges.”
We work side-by-side for hours, talking about everything and nothing, regularly chasing Kiki from the room so he doesn’t eat the long strips of paint covering the floor, and planning…a future.
Nothing long term. Restaurants we’d like to try. Line dances to learn. How Nash Grace can get a legal social security number.
“Leave that to Wren and Ripper,” Raelynn says, picking up the broom and sweeping up the mess. “They gave Hope—Wyatt’s girl—a new identity just last month. She started workin’ as a freelance financial planner a couple of weeks ago.”
“Shit. Why did she need a new identity?”
“Her ex—her dead ex—ran one of the largest human trafficking rings on the west coast. Hope was his punchin’ bag for three years. He made her launder his money. We took down the organization—all the major players—but some of the low-level grunts could still be searchin’ for her.”
“Is she in danger?” I’ve never met the woman, and Wyatt still scares the shit out of me, but I have to know.
Raelynn scoops up the paint scraps and dumps them into a garbage bag. “It ain’t likely. But Ry owns the building Wyatt and Hope live in. Ripper and Cara have the unit on one side of them, with Graham and Q on the other. Hope’s safer there than anywhere else on earth.”
I lose my grip on the paint scraper, and the tool skips across the plywood. “Shit. This would be so much easier with my other blade. I don’t suppose I could get my car any time soon? My toolbox is still in the trunk.”
Raelynn glances at her phone. “Still no update from Ry or the coroner’s office. But I can swing by your place before I hit up the grocery store.”
“You have to go today?” The idea of her out there alone shouldn’t bother me. She can clearly take care of herself. But it does.
“If we want to eat, I do.” She slaps my ass, brushes her hands on her thighs, and pulls her hair into a low ponytail. “Chicken caesar salad tonight, but tomorrow, I’m makin’ brisket and cornbread.”
Sliding an arm around Raelynn’s waist, I pull her close. “It’s a good thing we’re getting so much exercise at night. I haven’t eaten this well in years.”
“Oh, just you wait, darlin’. Once we know you’re safe, I’m startin’ up my mornin’ runs again. Five miles, three days a week. And you’re comin’ with me.”
“Should I be scared? Or excited?”
“With the way you’re holdin’ me, the answer should be obvious.” Her fingers card through my hair, and she claims my lips with hers.
The scent of orange blossoms fills my nose. I could kiss Raelynn every day for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough. Whenever we touch, I want more.
Backing her up against the plywood, I’m about to pull up her shirt when she wriggles free from my grasp. “We do this, ain’t neither of us eatin’ tonight. I’ll be back in two hours. Stay inside, and keep your phone on. Call me if you need anythin’.”
One last, swift kiss, and she’s gone.
Kiki meows loudly at the front window. Raelynn texted a few minutes ago. The winds started before she left, and they’re causing a mess on the interstate. Traffic has slowed to a crawl, and it took her almost ninety minutes to make it to Broadcast.
I scratch the cat behind the ears. “She’ll be back…eventually. Don’t worry. I know where your food is.”
He stands up on his hind legs and paws at the glass for a full minute. Outside, leaves tumble down the street, but the rain hasn’t started yet. The lights flicker, then with a quiet pop, go out completely. Shit.
The electrical in this house is held together by bubble gum and a prayer.
After I find my flashlight, I check the breaker box in the basement, but everything looks good. The wind must have taken down a power line somewhere.
I’m stacking wood in the hearth when someone pounds on the front door. My gut clenches until a man’s voice carries from outside. “Raelynn? It’s your neighbor, Chip. I need help…my son. He…he fell. I can’t get to him.”
Through the small windows at the top of the door, I catch a glimpse of a tall man wearing a damp white t-shirt and jeans. He wrings his hands, then knocks again. “Raelynn? Please answer!”
I flip the lock and throw the door open. “She’s not here. What happ—”
The punch snaps my head back. There’s a small crack in the ceiling. Why is that suddenly all I can think about? My arms windmill, finding nothing but air.
Pain explodes across the back of my skull. The edge of the plywood looms over me. Along with a shadow. Two shadows.
Muffled voices. Dark hair. The man in the white t-shirt.
“Get him to the plane. We’ll find out what the woman knows.”
I roll onto my side. Can’t let them hurt Raelynn. The couch is so far away. Where are the lights? It’s getting darker. Quieter.
Stay awake!
I can smell blood. Mine, I think. Someone kicks my shoulder. I’m on my back again. Staring up at a face that’s not a face. Just two dark eyes and white teeth.
I take a swing at the hazy shape, but come up empty. A shoe slams down on my wrist, pinning it to the floor. “No…” The word sounds like I’m under water.
“Shut him up.”
A heavy weight straddles me. I should know what to do. But I can’t think.
The next punch splits my lip. Blood fills my mouth. I can’t hear anything but my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. Something tightens around my wrists, biting into my skin.
There’s a pinch to my neck. Then I’m on my feet. Stumbling. A man on either side of me.
Rain pelts my face, clearing the haze over my eyes. A black SUV idles at the curb. No. I can’t let them put me in the car. My arms and legs start to feel heavy. Cold.
Thrashing, I’m almost free when the one on the left jams something small and hard against my ribs. “Keep fighting, and we’ll torture that pretty thing for days before we let her die.”
My thoughts are almost clear. Enough to know they’ll hurt Raelynn anyway—if she doesn’t kill them first. I kick at him, but whatever’s wrong with my legs…it’s getting worse. I’m off balance. I crash into the other man, and he shoves me, hard. Laurel branches slice my cheek and neck. The large bush stops me from hitting the ground, but the two men grab me again. A third rounds the SUV. “Fucking idiots,” he mutters as they shove me face down into the back seat. “Someone’s going to see us.”
I try to push myself up, but my muscles won’t listen. I’m so tired. Why can’t I move? The door in front of me swings open. “He’s almost out,” a voice says. It sounds strange. Like my ears are filled with cotton.
My lower lip is swollen and still bleeding. I spit blood onto the floor mat. “Wh-what…do you…want…?” Each word is harder than the last. My eyelids are too heavy. Can’t keep them open.
I shouldn’t sleep. A tiny voice in my head tells me to stay awake, but I don’t listen. Raelynn. I need…Raelynn. Where…is…
Chapter Nineteen
Raelynn
By the time I make it home, it’s after six. I should have ordered a pizza and skipped the grocery store. The wind and rain turned the highway into a parking lot, and I’ve been in the car for over an hour.
The house is dark, along with half the others on my side of the street. Shit. The power goes out every time there’s a storm.
Warmth pools in my core. This is the perfect excuse to build a fire and spend the night curled up on the couch in Nash’s arms. Dinner by candlelight, maybe a glass of wine… I’m grinning like a fool before I get out of the car.
With a full bag of groceries balanced on my hip, I unlock the door and toe it open.
“Nash?”
The house is utterly silent. The trees cast flickering shadows across the room. The air feels wrong, but as I turn to shut the door, a solid weight slams into me from the side. Groceries scatter everywhere. I hit the plywood, losing my breath and knocking the sawhorses across the floor.
