Break for Me (10 page)

“Not really.” She held up the sweats to her waist, eyeing them narrowly. “I’m going
to swim in these.”

“You can always put on the wet jeans.”

“No, thanks.” She wrinkled her nose and pulled them on, watching Dean as he gathered
up the clothes strewn across the floor. Looking down at herself, she pointed out the
obvious. “I’ve got your clothes on. It’s after ten. It’s going to be kind of obvious
what’s going on here.”

He lifted a brow. “That a problem?”

“Not for me.” She pushed her hair back, hoping it fell into some kind of order before
sliding him a look. Her belly jumped around while her heart started to slam against
her ribs.
Nervous,
she realized.
I’m
nervous.
Over a guy
. “Is it going to be for you? Your brother or your folks?”

“They aren’t sleeping with you. I am.”

Sleeping with you.
It sounded kind of … well, maybe not permanent, but like there was a relationship
thing there. She liked it. “So we’re not trying to hide this.”

He opened a door and she watched as he put her jeans and shirt into a dryer, started
it. As the machine started, he closed the door behind him. There was a queer look
in his eyes, intense, watchful.
Possessive
. “I have no desire to hide it.” His arms shot up, caging her in against the island.
He bent down, caught her lower lip between his teeth. “Do you?”

“No. I’m not really sure what
this
is, but … no.”

“Good.” His mouth slanted over hers, hungry, demanding and she felt the strength drain
out of her, replaced by loose, limpid desire. She wanted to curl herself around him
and take giant, greedy bites out of him. Because she thought she just might do that,
she gripped the island at her back.

She was already tempted to lean against him. Hide
behind
him, maybe.

When he lifted his head, she licked her lips, tasting him there.

“We can figure out what this is as it develops.” He cupped her face in his hands.
“Just … just don’t pull away from me. Not now.”

“I can handle that.” She turned her head, pressed a kiss to his palm. “No pulling
away. Although I might end up trying to hide behind you, once I hear whatever your
brother has to say.”

“Like you’d let yourself take the easy way.” He rubbed his thumb over her lip, then
dipped his head, pressed his brow to hers. “I’ll be right here, Jensen. No matter
what.”

Staring into his eyes, she let herself take a little bit of comfort in that. Slowly,
needing to touch him, needing that connection, she reached out and curved her hands
over his lean hips. “I’m not ready for this. I’ve waited for this for so long, and
now I’m not ready.”

“No matter what happens, Jensen, I’m here.” For a minute, just a minute, the world
was nothing but them. “I’m right here.”

*   *   *

When the doorbell rang just a few minutes later, Jensen flinched. Dean hugged her
against him and wished he could just take her away from here, but that wasn’t going
to fix the hurt inside her.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, “Remember. I’m right here.”

She nodded and when he held out his hand, she reached out and grabbed it, squeezing
convulsively.

Ty didn’t knock again.

He was patient.

Then again, he’d always been.

Ty was what his folks had called an old soul. Genius intellect. Patient and calm.

He knew Dean was in there and he’d just wait at the door, for an hour, if that was
what it took.

When Dean opened the door, Ty had his head averted, staring off into the night.

“Ty.”

His younger brother swung his head around and looked first at him, then his gaze shifted
to Jensen.

He didn’t look at all surprised to see her there, didn’t look at all surprised to
see her wearing clothes that obviously belonged to Dean. He just nodded, and although
he hid it well, Dean saw the sorrow in his brother’s gaze.

This was going to be bad.

*   *   *

“It’s going to be hard to make a conclusive case here. I hope you understand that,”
Ty said, his voice low and gentle, like he was talking to a wild animal.

Or a woman who’d spent half her life searching for what she’d lost.

Jensen lifted her eyes and stared at the other man.

He and Dean shared the same eyes, she thought. The shape of the mouth was the same,
the shape of their hands.

Both had a way of acting, carrying themselves that set people at ease. And they were
both smarter than people really had a right to be.

The resemblance ended there, though. Where Dean was all sleek and lean elegance, Ty
was massive, tall and broad through the shoulders. There was no extra flesh on him
that she could tell, but his hands were huge, his shoulders strained against the cloth
of the shirt he wore. She had a hard time picturing him in some sterile lab.

Had a hard time picturing him gentling her through the explanation he had trapped
inside him.

She had a hard time being gentled, anyway.

“Would you just get it over with, Ty?” she said, trying to keep the edge out of her
voice. “Whatever it is … I just need to
know
.”

His lashes swept down, ridiculously long lashes, thick and curled. He blew out a careful
breath and lifted his hands, steepling them in front of his face for a moment and
then he nodded.

He pulled a file out of the bag he carried and opened it. “I’ve got a preliminary
report for you, Dean. If you decide you want me to consult, just let me know and I’ll
get a full report put together. But for now…” He flipped the report over and revealed
the pictures.

They’d been enlarged and he pulled a laser pointer from his bag.

Her mouth went dry.

She was looking at a femur.

It was just a femur. A subject. Unidentified—

Mom
—

“There’s damage to the femur. A fracture. Some fragments are missing.”

She nodded and watched as he placed another image in front of her. “This is part of
the pelvis. They may find more of it as they finish going through the car, but again,
as you can see…” Ty said, his voice slow and easy. “There’s considerable damage, and
it’s not damage we’d see from being submerged in water.”

“It looks fractured. Could she have been hit by a car?” Jensen asked. Her voice sounded
so calm. So level.

Ty blew out a breath. “I don’t think that’s the case. There’s the injury to her skull.”

He pulled out the next set of pictures. “I’d be able to give a better report if I
could actually examine her myself.” He placed each image in front of them and then
folded his hands. “These are crush injuries, Jensen.”

She slowly lifted her eyes. “Crush injuries.”

“I know it’s been a long, long time … but do you remember if there were any big dogs
in the area, Jensen?” Ty asked, watching her. “It would have to be a dog of substantial
size, but—”

Dean barely caught her as she bolted off the couch.

*   *   *

“That man is going to drive that dog to kill somebody, Doug.”

Jensen sat at the table, doing her homework and watching as her mother slammed the
phone down.

“We just need to make sure you all stay away,” Dad said, scrubbing the grease from
his hands. “The fence is high and he keeps him chained.”

“I’m not so worried about
us
,” Mom said, snapping. “We raised the kids not to mess with strange dogs and they
know not to go messing around the Miller house. Guy is welcome here, anytime he wants
to be here and he knows that. But that damn dog…”

Jensen looked up.

Mom caught her glance and smiled. “You pay attention to your homework, toots. I’m
just irritated.”

“He beats his dog,” she said, not looking back down at the paper. Scowling, she shifted
in her chair as something hot and angry moved through her. “He doesn’t just beat him,
either. He makes him fight. I saw…”

“You saw what, baby?”

She flicked her parents a glance and then looked away.

“I think I saw Mr. Miller take another dog in there once. Through the gate. It was
that old gray stray that we used to feed sometimes.”

Doug blew out a breath and turned away from the sink, reaching for a towel to dry
his hands. “When was this, Jensen?”

“A couple months ago.” She bent her head over the table, feeling a little sick inside.
“I … I meant to say something. But he saw me. The way he looked at me scared me. I
was spending the night at Trina’s house and I guess I didn’t want to think about it,
then I forgot.”

Mom put her Coke down and came to settle in the seat next to her. “You didn’t do anything
wrong, sweetheart.” She sighed and reached out to brush Jensen’s hair back, but Jensen
jerked back.

Hadn’t she?

What had happened to that old dog?

Because it was easier to be mad at something else, anybody else, she just glared at
her mom. “Why doesn’t anybody stop him? Don’t people
care
?”

“I care.” Mom sighed and reached up to brush Jensen’s hair back but Jensen scowled
and pulled her head back. She wasn’t a little baby like Chrissie. “Baby, it’s not
the first we’ve heard rumors about something like this. Maybe this will be enough
to get the cops out there, though. I’ve called before, but without evidence…” Her
mouth twisted and her eyes were angry. “They need evidence. Unless somebody actually
catches him…”

“Nobody wants to get close enough to catch him. Butcher is scary.”

Mom smiled sadly. “I don’t think the dog is really to blame. That monster starves
him, beats him. But yeah. Butcher is scary. So you do what you’re told. Stay away.
I feel bad for the dog and I’ll keep trying to get help out there, but I don’t want
him hurting you. Becky Henry thinks he got ahold of her cat. If he’d hurt another
animal, he might hurt a child, too. We’re not taking the chance. If you saw him take
another dog in there, maybe that will be enough this time.”

Jensen gripped her pencil so tightly her fingers went bloodless.

“What would happen if the dog got out, Mama?”

*   *   *

Bent over the toilet, Jensen gripped the edges, waiting for the shaking to pass.

She’d emptied everything in her stomach.

The stink of vomit filled the air and it wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, either.

“Here.”

Looking up, she saw a cold washcloth dangling near her head.

She could barely move to grab it. “Water?”

She nodded and took the bottle, rinsed her mouth out. Flushing the toilet, she went
to ease back from the commode, but her arms and legs didn’t want to work.

Dean, under the pretense of settling down next to her, shifted her away. She swiped
the rag over her face, her fingers trembling.

“There was a dog, wasn’t there?” he asked.

“Yes.” Dully, she stared at the pretty, brick-red walls, the soft golden globes of
the lights. “There was a dog.”

He curled an arm around her shoulders and tucked her closer. Resting his chin on her
head, he held her as she slid her arms around him and clung tight. “I’m sorry, Jensen.”

Chapter Nine

The man in front of her was a friend.

Jensen tried to tell herself that as she led Dean into his office.

Guy Miller was a friend.

His father was a fucking scumbag, but Guy wasn’t to blame for that.

You sure you want to handle it this way?
Dean had asked her on the way into the sheriff’s department early the next morning.

It wasn’t exactly procedure.

She knew that.

She couldn’t be involved in the case that would have to be built. She
couldn’t
be.

But she knew Guy. He was a decent man, a good cop.

There was no way in hell he knew anything about her mom’s death. He’d spent too many
nights going over the case with her. Going over reports for her brother.

And lending Chrissie a shoulder.

He thought people hadn’t noticed, and when they said stuff, he just brushed it all
off as being a friend. Jensen knew better.

Guy was shitfaced in love with Chrissie and this was going to make all of this even
harder on him.

No. He didn’t know anything about their mom’s death.

But yeah, there had been a dog. A mean, big-ass dog by the name of Butcher. Then one
night, sometime during the summer her mother had gone missing, Butcher just wasn’t
there anymore.

Theo claimed the dog had gotten loose and run away a few nights before her mother
had disappeared. There was even a hole in the fence and a broken chain to prove it.

Guy looked up, his black hair cut short, his gray eyes tired. Signs of a sleepless
night showed on his face as he gave her a distracted smile. “Hey, Jensen. How are
you holding—” Then he frowned, his attention shifting to Dean, then the taller man
at their back. “Well. We’ll discuss that later. What can I do for you?”

*   *   *

Guy knew the second she introduced the quiet, big man at her back that there was a
problem. He knew the name. Dean’s brother had made quite a name for himself down in
Lexington.

Young, brilliant, had a thing for bones.

This was one of those times where he could almost thank the evil son of a bitch who’d
fathered him, because he’d learned at a young age that he had to hide everything he
thought, everything he felt.

Leaning back in his chair, he kept his hands flat on the arms, watching Jensen. She
had her cop face on. He knew that face. But she couldn’t quite mask the look in her
eyes. Not quite. “So what’s going on, Jensen?”

She opened her mouth, but seconds ticked away and finally, she just looked at Dean.