Caught Up in You (2 page)

Wyatt glanced at the clock on the wall. He hadn’t shown up this late for work in longer
than he could remember. His assistant was probably all aflutter, wondering if he was
dead on the highway or something. Mr. Routine had deviated. Call the press! His phone
was on vibrate in his laptop bag, but he had no doubt there’d be messages.

But right when he was about to pull his gaze away from Kelsey and grab his cell out
of his bag’s pocket, she halted mid-step, panic freezing her features. Wyatt followed
her line of sight to the man who’d walked into the diner. Stocky and spiky-haired
with a mean set to his mouth, the guy looked like a human version of a hyena. Kelsey
turned quickly toward the kitchen, the tray in her hand wobbling, but the hyena had
already locked his sights on her and was making his way in her direction.

A cold feeling crawled up the back of Wyatt’s neck, his protective instincts going
on full alert. This man meant trouble. Without moving his attention away from the
guy, Wyatt gathered his papers and laptop and tucked them in the bag, preparing in
case he needed to intervene.

Kelsey was on a hasty path to the kitchen, but before she could slip behind the counter,
the guy laid a hand on her upper arm—a grab, really—and leaned next to her ear to
whisper something. For a casual onlooker, the gesture would probably appear friendly,
like someone she knew giving her a message. But even from behind, Wyatt could see
her body go ramrod straight, could see that she didn’t want this person near her.
He had the instant urge to break the guy’s nubby little fingers for daring to touch
her.

She nodded stiffly and set her tray down on the counter. The guy nudged her toward
the back end of the restaurant. She ventured a quick glance toward the kitchen as
she took a step away from the counter, but the kid manning the griddle didn’t seem
to notice anything was going on. Wyatt was already on his feet though, heading in
that direction. He didn’t want to make a scene if this was, perish the thought, a
lovers’ squabble or something. But he’d learned to follow his instincts in business
and they never let him down, so he wasn’t going to distrust them in a situation like
this.

The man was moving at a casual pace, but he was clearly guiding a reluctant Kelsey
to the back exit. Wyatt let them stay a few steps ahead, so he wouldn’t be noticed.
But if the two slipped out the back door, he was going to have to get involved. No
way was he letting that punk get Kelsey alone in the alley.

“Mr. Austin! Wait!”

Wyatt turned, the instinct to respond to his name automatic, and the other waitress
was waving a hand at him and holding his bag. “You forgot your things.”

“Put them behind the counter for me. I’ll be right back.” He quickly turned back toward
the exit, but the heavy door was already closed. “Fuck.”

No longer caring who saw him, he jogged toward the door and shoved it open, blinking
for a second so his eyes could adjust to the sunlight. “Kelsey.”

A small gasp.

He turned to the left to find Kelsey pressed up against the dirty wall and hyena-man
looming over her, his arms braced on each side of her. Trapping her.

“It’s all right, man. Go back inside. I’m just having a little chat with my girlfriend,”
the guy said, his easy tone not matching the spark of menace in his dark eyes.

Red leaked into Wyatt’s vision. “Get your fucking hands off her, or we’re going to
have a problem.”

“Oh, really, GQ? What are you going to do?” He moved one hand off the wall and grabbed
a knife from his waistband. “You going to choke me with your necktie?”

Kelsey’s gaze darted to Wyatt’s—but where he expected to see fear, he saw rage. He
had only a split second to figure out she didn’t plan to stand by and let him handle
things. “Kelsey, d—”

But before he got his words out, Kelsey jerked her knee upward, hitting the guy square
in the nuts. The howl of pain echoed down the alley as the guy doubled over, and Kelsey
ducked and juked left out of trajectory. Acting on pure adrenaline, Wyatt launched
himself at the guy linebacker style, going straight for the arm wielding the knife,
and slammed the guy’s hand against the wall. The knife clattered to the ground, but
the guy swung at him with the other fist.

The punch landed against Wyatt’s jaw, almost knocking his glasses off his face, but
the pain barely registered because the desire to maim, torture, and annihilate was
burning like a bonfire in him. This scumbag had threatened Kelsey. Sweet, beautiful
Kelsey. He grabbed the guy by the throat and smashed him against the wall again, using
the extra inches of height he had on the guy to his full advantage. “You want to hit
me again, asshole? Try it. Swing at me and give me a reason to choke you.”

Hyena’s eyes flooded with challenge. “Empty fucking threat. You know that bitch piece
of ass isn’t worth getting a lifetime in jail.”

Wyatt’s grip tightened. He’d never thought himself capable of killing another person,
but in that moment, he would’ve enjoyed ridding the world of this trash. He bared
his teeth as he pressed just a little harder against the guy’s windpipe. “Oh, really?
You’re going to count on that? I have lawyers so good that I could choke you right
in the middle of the fucking restaurant and be lauded in the papers as a hero. So
don’t. Fucking. Tempt. Me.”

The guy’s eyes bugged a bit at that, whether from the threat or the pressure on his
throat, Wyatt didn’t care. Hyena wet his lips, and his voice came out hoarse. “Fine.
Just let go, man.”

Police sirens wailed in the background, echoing against the buildings.

Wyatt eased the pressure and smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that. In a minute.”

The guy closed his eyes, sagging in Wyatt’s grip.

An hour and an ice pack later, Wyatt sat on the back steps outside the restaurant,
watching as the last cop car pulled away. He’d asked them to make sure to not release
details of the event. The last thing he needed was the press picking this up. His
father would love that. Kelsey, who’d been standing at the end of the alley, turned
around. She had her arms wrapped around herself and carried a hollow look in her eyes.

When she got close, he lowered the ice pack and saw the tears that shimmered in her
eyes. “I am so sorry, Mr. Austin. Is it bad?”

He set the ice pack aside, pushed himself to stand, and dusted off his slacks. “Please,
I think we’ve moved on to the stage where you can call me Wyatt. And I’m fine. I’m
more worried about you. Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head and a thousand responses seemed to touch her lips in rapid time,
her mouth twitching. But after a few too many failed attempts at speaking, she simply
flung herself at him, stunning him with a hug. His arms went out to his sides as if
they’d forgotten the proper response to being embraced, and he looked down his body
at the woman he’d so often imagined touching.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his shirt.

God, she was warm. And her scent . . . Who’d have ever thought bacon and maple syrup
could smell so goddamned perfect on a woman? The thought that anyone would want to
harm her had his rage firing up anew.

Unable to hold back any longer, he gave into the urge and wrapped his arms around
her, holding her against him as she let the adrenaline and the emotions drain out
of her.

The back door of the restaurant cracked open, and the kid from the kitchen peeked
out, concern weighing heavy on his boyish features. He’d come outside a few times
to check on Kelsey, and Wyatt had instantly liked him. “You okay, baby girl?”

Kelsey stepped out of Wyatt’s embrace with an apologetic smile and swiped at her face.
“I’m fine, Nathan. Thanks for checking on me. And for calling the cops.”

“I’ve only got an hour left on my shift. Want me to give you a ride home after?” Nathan
asked, looking between her and Wyatt.

“I—”

“I’ve got her,” Wyatt said, cutting her off.

Kelsey’s head whipped around. “Mr. Au— Wyatt, you don’t have to do that.”

“You worked all night and you’ve had a hell of a morning. You don’t need to be waiting
around here. I want you in bed.”

Nathan’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his shaggy bangs.

“Resting,” Wyatt clarified.

Kelsey actually gave him a half smile on that one, some of the color coming back into
her cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

He should’ve told her to drop the sir. But for reasons he’d rather not examine at
the moment, he wasn’t in a hurry to stop hearing that little gem roll off her lips.

He pressed his hand to the small of her back to lead her back up the stairs, reciting
in his head:
Too young. Too sweet. Too messy.

TWO

Kelsey stared out the side window of Wyatt’s BMW, try
ing to get her skin to stop crawling and her heart to stop its attempt to bust out
of her chest. When Howie Miller had stepped into the restaurant, it was like being
yanked back eighteen months—her life rewinding and then hitting the play button at
the shittiest part.

Well, almost the shittiest part.

She’d been so careful. Had picked up and moved her whole life to a completely new
area. She’d even registered her apartment and all her utilities under another name.
And the cops had said they would never reveal that she’d been the informant. But the
look in Howie’s eyes when he’d pushed her against the wall had said he knew exactly
whose information had put his brother in jail. If Wyatt hadn’t followed her out there
and distracted him . . . She didn’t even want to think about it. In that world, being
a snitch was a capital offense. And Howie had looked more than ready to mete out her
punishment.

Wyatt, who’d been quiet for the last few miles, glanced over at her. The lingering
anger over what Howie had done hovered there in the tense lines of his face and his
grip on the wheel. He looked as if he wanted to beat up the guy all over again. “What
did that punk want with you? I’m guessing it wasn’t a random attack.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, turning back toward the window, wishing she didn’t have
to have this conversation with Wyatt. Wyatt, who only knew her as the chatty waitress
and his brother’s friend. Nothing else. None of the ugly stuff. She’d hoped it could
remain that way.

“Was he an ex or something?”

She grimaced, the idea making her stomach turn. “God, no.”

Wyatt blew out a breath like that was the best news he’d heard all day. “Then what?”

She glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the silver bracelet she’d treated herself
to when she’d celebrated her first year sober. That day had felt like such a fresh
start, like a new life was there for the taking. But apparently the dregs of her past
were determined to stir up and muddy everything again. “I helped put his brother in
jail a while back. He wasn’t supposed to know it was me, but I guess he figured it
out and was coming to pay me back.”

“Christ,” he said under his breath as he took the turn toward her apartment complex.
“Thank God he’s going to be behind bars now, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts,” she said dryly.

Wyatt flexed his fingers against the steering wheel again, those big, beautiful hands
of his knotted with tension. “You need to file a restraining order on him when you
get home. Just to be safe.”

She had to fight back the scoff that wanted to jump out of her throat. Restraining
orders were worth about as much as the ink used to sign them. In her experience, they
usually just served to instigate the person further—like waving a flag at a crazed
bull. “Sure. Will do. My building’s the one there on the right.”

“You’re humoring me,” he said, displeasure coloring his tone as he swung the car into
a parking space.

“I’m sorry,” she said, letting her head fall back against the seat, exhaustion setting
in now that the adrenaline had left her system. How long had it been since she’d slept?
She couldn’t quite remember. “I’m not trying to be flip. I just—everything was going
so well and now I have this to deal with. I want to throttle that asshole.” She opened
her eyes, staring forward. “Is it supposed to be this hard to live a drama-free life?”

She caught his smirk in her peripheral vision. “Some people would call drama-free
boring.”

She turned her head toward him. “Boring sounds
amazing
.”

He smiled fully now. His jaw was still a little swollen from the punch, but that didn’t
reduce the impact of the expression. God, he was gorgeous when he let that grin slip
through, lighting up all those dark features and revealing the dimples hidden beneath.
He smiled so infrequently that it felt like a gift each time it happened, like she’d
won some secret contest.

She stayed where she was, enjoying the close-up view of him too much to look away.
But in the small space of the car, the ocean blue of his eyes darkened behind his
glasses the longer she sat there, his humor morphing into something decidedly more
intense. Heat seeped through her in a slow roll, the playful fantasizing about her
fictional boyfriend becoming more of a desperate itch for the real thing.

Wyatt reached out, his large palm cradling the side of her face. “You’re too young
and too sweet to have so much history in those eyes.”

She wet her lips, her cheek tingling beneath his touch. “I’m not that young, Wyatt.
Or that sweet.”

He stared at her, that blue gaze boring into her with the precision of surgeon’s knife,
and she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her. She wanted him to. Even though
she knew it was a ridiculously bad idea, knew that the minute she crossed that boundary
with him, she’d be just another woman he’d bedded. She was well aware of the score
with guys like him. Had tripped down that path a few too many times in the past. Wealthy
men didn’t date women like her—they entertained themselves with them.

But all Wyatt did was brush a thumb over her mouth, swiping the moisture she’d left
there, and then lowered his hand with a softly expelled breath. “Come on. I’ll walk
you up. You need rest.”

She blinked, the loss of his touch like a cold wind against her face, and tried to
drag herself back to reality. “Oh. Um, don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine.”

But he was already opening his door. “I’ll feel better if I see you safely inside.
I rarely get the opportunity to feel chivalrous.”

She laughed, breaking some of the tension that’d been thrumming through her body from
the imagined almost kiss, and pushed her door open to climb out. “Is there a white
horse to ride up the stairs?”

“Nah, he’s in the shop.” He offered a little bow and a bent elbow. “Will my arm suffice,
fair lady?”

She tilted her chin up in her best imitation of haughtiness. “I guess that will do.”

He smiled and took her hand, linking it around his arm. “Lead the way.”

If Wyatt had any opinions about her modest apartment complex and its peeling paint
or sagging stairs, he kept the judgment off his face. She knew he’d probably never
spent a night in anything with less than five-star accommodations, but she wasn’t
going to bother being embarrassed about where she lived. She’d worked hard to get
her own place on the decent side of town and even if it wasn’t much, it was hers.

She guided him to her door and reluctantly released herself from his hold to slide
the key into the lock. There was a note taped above the doorknob, and she suspected
it was the landlord telling her rent was a day overdue. She grabbed it and turned
the knob, stepping inside.

She expected Wyatt to follow, but when she turned around, she found him leaning against
the doorjamb like a vampire who needed permission to cross the threshold. “You can
come in if you want.”

His mouth lifted at the corner. “Probably better I don’t. Leaving the car was hard
enough.”

So she hadn’t imagined the almost kiss. She set her purse down on the breakfast bar,
debating whether or not to push the issue. Even nudging a toe down this road was a
bad idea. But she couldn’t help herself. The question that had been hovering in her
mind ever since that first week he’d started coming to the restaurant spilled out.
“Why do you come to the cafe every morning? Jace told me where your building is. It’s
not convenient.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I like you.”

She absorbed that for a second, the matter-of-fact way he said it. The answer didn’t
shock her exactly. He wasn’t one of those guys to throw lines at her and shamelessly
flirt, but she could tell when he looked at her that he wasn’t just concerned about
getting her attention for a coffee refill. However, mixed in with that subtle interest,
she always sensed some underlying layer of distance. Like he was watching her from
the other side of bulletproof glass. “So why didn’t you kiss me in the car?”

He pushed himself off the doorframe and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Same reason.”

“Right.” At least he was honest. Message, loud and clear. If they slept together,
she would never seen him again. “You don’t date.”

“No, I don’t. Not very dateable, I’m afraid.”

“Sure, with the good looks, your own company, and the penchant to save waitresses
in dark alleys, women must run away in horror,” she teased. “Come on, you know you
could have your own season of
The Bachelor
and fill Texas Stadium with the contestant casting call.”

His curving lips had an edge of resignation to them this time. “Women like me on paper.
But the reality isn’t as bearable. I work from seven in the morning to past ten most
nights. I’m a control freak in all aspects of my life. And my social graces leave
a lot to be desired.”

“Meaning, you can be an asshole.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “My tolerance for others is limited.”

She had already gathered that about him. The glare he’d sent that customer who’d interrupted
them today could’ve bent the silverware. “Yet you visit me every morning.”

“You’re exceptionally tolerable,” he said, stepping inside finally and picking up
the note that must have fallen to the floor when she’d set her purse down.

His comment and having him only a pace away from her—in her apartment, alone—had her
thoughts disintegrating for a moment. To stop herself from moving even closer and
embarrassing herself, she went for the safety of humor. She tilted her head and batted
her eyelashes in her best southern belle impression. “Oh, Mr. Austin, you say the
sweetest things. You should write poetry.”

He chuckled and handed her the paper, his hand lingering against her fingers for a
few extra seconds. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. LeBreck. Try to stay out of trouble
until then.”

“Will do my best.” The loss of the skin-to-skin contact left her feeling even more
alone than she had a minute before. She looked down, unfolding the paper in her hand
to have something to do besides grabbing the lapels of his jacket and taking the kiss
for herself. “Thanks again for everything today. I’m really sorry you had to get inv—”

Her words stuck in her throat like a wad of taffy as she stared down at the drawing
on the page—a very familiar, distinctive
D
.

“Kelsey?” Wyatt’s voice filled with concern. When she didn’t respond, he came toward
her. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone white.”

She closed her eyes, a wave of nausea and raging anger rolling through her. A firm
hand grabbed her elbow, steadying her. She took in a deep breath through her nose,
trying to keep the temptation to lose her shit at bay. She’d been here before. She
could handle it.

Of course, before she could’ve taken a shot of whiskey and smoked a cigarette. But
neither of those options were available anymore. This time she was on her own in every
way.

“He came here first,” she said, her voice sounding flat.

Wyatt took the paper from her fingertips. “Who? Miller?”

She nodded, trying to regain her internal composure so that Wyatt didn’t notice how
she was running around and screaming on the inside. “I need to get out of here.”

“Wait, what?” Wyatt asked as she pulled away from him.

“Miller’s part of a much bigger operation—the D-Town Players.” She headed toward the
closet on the far side of the living room and yanked it open, a plan trying to form
in her swirling brain. How long had they been standing here talking? What if someone
was already heading this way? Where the fuck was her suitcase? “That note is letting
me know they know where I live.”

“Fuck, Kelsey,” Wyatt said, lines deepening around his mouth. “How involved is this?
Is it some sort of street gang?”

She shook her head, squatting down to move a few boxes at the bottom of the closet.
“They’re much more organized than that. I don’t exactly know how big it is. I was
never privy to that.” She dragged her overnight bag out of the back corner and turned
around. “I just . . . dated some prick who was a drug runner for them back when I
was too stupid to know better.”

She watched the distaste cross Wyatt’s face, and her heart died a little. One of the
things she loved most about her brief times with Wyatt was how he looked at her like
she really was the sweet, innocent thing he believed her to be. Like she was something
precious and fragile. Unlike everyone else she knew, he hadn’t looked at her through
the filter of her past and all the mistakes she’d made when she was using. Or through
the even darker glass of being a victim. Only a handful of people knew what she’d
endured at the hands of her mother’s murderer last year. But once someone knew, that
was all the person saw—assault victim. Now streaks of that ugliness were tainting
the bright little bubble of space between her and Wyatt.

“Where are you going to go?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him and bolting
it. “My company has corporate apartments we rent. You can stay in one of those if
you need a place.”

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was some handout. “Thanks, I appreciate
it, but I can stay at my sister and her fiancé’s place.”

That was a lie. She wasn’t going to put Brynn and Reid at risk on her behalf. Not
again. Reid had taken a bullet the last time he’d rescued Kelsey, and her sister had
almost ended up dead. But Kelsey couldn’t tell Wyatt where she was really heading.
He’d already found out enough of her secrets today. The last thing he needed to know
was what she did as her night job.

Wyatt frowned, obviously not thrilled with that plan, but he nodded. “Pack your bag,
and I’ll drive you.”

“I have a car downstairs. I just take the bus some days to work to save money on gas.”

“Then I’ll follow you there to make sure you’re safe.”