Feeling Hot (35 page)

“Did you still want to stop by your apartment before we head home?” Annabelle exited the off-ramp and sped toward San Diego’s city center.

“If you don’t mind. I really need that spare power adapter.” Her laptop charger had died last night, but she hadn’t felt like driving all the way to her place to pick up the extra one she kept there.

“When are you moving out of Cash’s?”

Jen shrugged. “A couple of days, probably.”

“Why bother? I’m sure Hot Stuff will love it if you moved in with him.” There was a playful twinkle in Annabelle’s eyes.

“Yeah, but I doubt Matt will. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready for that,” she admitted. “We’ve only been together a month.”

“And living together,” Annabelle pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was out of necessity.” And now that her crazy ex was out of the picture, it was time to return to her own place. She loved Cash, but it was too early for them to officially live together, especially since she now had a brand-new career to focus on.

A few minutes later, Annabelle parked the car in front of Jen’s building. “Want me to come up with you?”

“No, I’ll only be a minute,” Jen said as she opened the door.

Grabbing her purse, she dashed toward the entrance and hurried into the building. Her kitten heels clicked on the lobby floor as she walked to the elevator. She rode it up to the fifth floor, fishing her keys from her purse as she strode down the frayed carpet in the hallway.

The moment she entered her apartment, she experienced a sense of disorientation. Everything looked exactly the same—tiny living room, blue carpeting, mismatched furniture, sticky notes all over the place—yet it felt like a lifetime since she’d been here rather than a mere three weeks.

She went to the bedroom and got the laptop charger from the bottom drawer of her desk. She coiled the cord and tucked the adapter into her purse, then strode back to the living room just as a knock sounded on the door.

She frowned for a moment, before realizing Annabelle had probably come up to use the washroom or something.

“Sorry, I locked the door,” she called as she unlocked the deadbolt. “It’s become a habit ever since—” Her breath caught in a startled gasp when she laid eyes on her ex. “Brendan?”

Chapter Fourteen

After one long moment of motionless shock, Jen snapped into action. She didn’t give Brendan a chance to say a word. With a jolt of panic and a burst of energy, she slammed the door, only for Brendan to stick his foot out and wedge it in the doorframe.

“Let me in, Jen,” he begged.

Shit, what the hell was he even
doing
here?
 

A pair of brown eyes pierced into her, glittering with a mixture of anger and wild desperation. Brendan’s face was as handsome as ever, except his nose had clearly been broken during that fight with Cash—bruised, swollen and slightly off-center.

“Go away,” Jen snapped. “You’re violating the restraining order.”

She kicked at his foot, then rammed her shoulder into the door to try to slam it, but he got both palms on the door and pushed hard, sending her careening backward. Jen stumbled and lost her balance, and as her butt collided with the carpet, fear pounded into her like a pair of fists.

Looming over her, her ex extended his hand. “Come on, let me help you up.”

Fuck. She should’ve known the restraining order wouldn’t do shit.

Scrambling to her feet, Jen held up her palms in a don’t-come-any-closer pose. “You can’t be here, Brendan,” she said quietly. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”

His eyes flashed. “Stop being so melodramatic. I only came to talk.”

“You’re supposed to be in Oakland.”

“I was.” Desperation flooded his face. “But I had to come back. I couldn’t just move to another fucking city without talking to you first. Without convincing you to come with me.”

He took a step toward her.

She took a step back.

“I’m not moving to Oakland with you,” she retorted. “I want you to leave. Now.”

Her gaze darted down to the floor, where she’d dropped her purse when she’d fallen. If she bent to pick it up, she’d have to take her eyes off her ex, who didn’t look very calm at the moment. Indignation had darkened his eyes, and he was shifting on his feet, his body language agitated and a little frightening.

Fuck
. Talk about falling into a false state of security. She’d foolishly assumed Brendan would leave her alone once he left town, but clearly she’d underestimated his level of craziness. Why had she come up here alone, damn it? She should have continued to take precautions and brought Annabelle.

“I can’t go,” Brendan said, sounding miserable. “I can’t leave until we work this out.”

“There’s nothing to work out. It’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be! Come to Oakland with me, sweetie. Please, you know we can be happy together.”

She glanced at her purse again, then at the kitchen doorway. If she made a run for the kitchen, she could probably grab the cordless and dial 911 faster than if she tried fishing her cell phone out of her purse.

“Jen. Look at me!”

She reluctantly moved her gaze back to him. “I want you to leave, Brendan.”

“Shit! I just keep doing everything wrong,” he burst out. “But it’s all because I love you. I
know
we can be good together. We had something amazing, and it hurts that you were so quick to throw it away.”

He came at her again, and this time, Jen didn’t back up. Fueled by a wave of anger and frustration, she brought her knee up and struck him in the groin, eliciting an outraged cry from his mouth.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “I just want to be with you!”

Her elbow shot up at the same time Brendan’s fist came at her face, bringing a sting of pain and a rush of moisture to her left eye.

Blinking through the pain, Jen drove the heel of her hand into his nose and heard the bone crunch.

“You
bitch
!”

Blood erupted from Brendan’s nostrils, and as he cursed in pain, Jen ducked out of his grip and raced toward the kitchen. The cordless phone was on the counter, as was the butcher block full of knives, but she didn’t make it in time.

She heard footsteps, felt Brendan’s hot breath on the nape of her neck, and then he fisted the back of her blouse and yanked her backward.

Sticky wetness stained her cheeks—blood, dripping down Brendan’s clean-shaven chin. Jen struggled, trying to wiggle out of his grip, using the fingers of one hand to try and gouge at his eyes. “Get off me,” she grunted.

He got an arm around her from behind and dug his elbow into her windpipe. “How long were you sleeping with that muscle head?” he demanded. “Were you cheating on me the entire time we were together?”

She flung out her arm in search of something to grab onto. As Brendan pushed her against the stove, cursing and spitting out angry accusations, Jen fought to escape his grasp. When her hand collided with the metal handle of the cast-iron pan on the counter, triumph and relief exploded like fireworks in her gut. She gripped the handle, then swung the pan at Brendan’s head. It collided into his skull with a thud, stunning him enough that his grip slackened.

With Brendan momentarily disoriented, Jen raised the pan high in the air and sent it crashing into the back of his skull.

A second later, his unconscious body crumpled to the linoleum floor.

Gasping for air, she staggered backward, still clutching the pan like it was a life preserver and she was drowning at sea.

Jesus. Oh sweet Jesus.

Had she killed him?

No. No, she could see his chest rising and falling. He was breathing, then.

“Jen! What the hell is taking so—oh my God.”

She lifted her head to see Annabelle come to a dead stop in the doorway.
 

“So much for sticking to me like glue,” Jen said in a wry voice.

Annabelle glanced from Jen’s face to Brendan’s body slumped on the floor, then spoke in a brisk tone. “Did you call the police?”

“Not yet. I was too busy fighting him off.”

“Well, you did a good fucking job.” Annabelle’s gaze landed on Brendan again. “Carson would be proud.”

Jen felt downright shell-shocked as she watched Annabelle grab the phone and call 911. When the cops showed up fifteen minutes later, she relayed the events that had transpired with a measure of calm she certainly did not feel. Her heart continued to pound. Her hands shook. Lingering adrenaline coursed through her veins, making it impossible to focus on her surroundings or the people around her.

Brendan regained consciousness while one of the uniformed officers handcuffed him, but he remained oddly subdued as he was being carted away. He’d been arrested for assault and violating the restraining order, and Jen supposed she’d have to see him in court at some point, but she couldn’t think that far ahead at the moment.

What if she hadn’t grabbed that pan in time? What if Brendan had—had done what? She had no clue what he’d planned on doing. All she knew was she could have been seriously hurt. Or worse.

“You okay?” Annabelle murmured after the cops left.

Jen gave a tired nod. “I’m fine.”

“We should put some ice on that eye.”

Eye? Oh, right. It took her a second to remember that Brendan had struck her, and once she did, she registered the pain throbbing in her left eye. She reached up to touch it, and discovered that her eye was nearly swollen shut. Probably explained why half her vision was blurry.

Jen sank onto the couch and took an unsteady breath, then reached for her purse, which Annabelle had placed on the coffee table. She needed to call Cash and tell him what happened. Over voicemail, of course, because she knew his phone wouldn’t be on, but Lord, she longed to hear his voice. And she desperately wished he were here right now, holding her in his strong arms.

But he wasn’t here. He was…well, she didn’t know where he was.

God, she wanted him to come home. She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to think about what just happened with Brendan, or how differently the situation could’ve turned out if she hadn’t gained the upper hand.

Damn it, Cash. Come home.

Almost home.

Those two words had been buzzing in Cash’s head for the past seven hours, and he was so anxious for the chopper to land that he couldn’t stop tapping his foot relentlessly and drumming his fingers on his thighs. He’d seen Carson displaying that same jittery eagerness countless times before. Come to think of it, Becker, Ryan and Matt did the whole foot-tap/finger-drum thing too.

Was it a relationship thing? Because their single counterparts, Dylan, Seth and Jackson, looked perfectly at ease as they chatted over the din of the rotors. Cash hid a surprisingly smug smile at the realization that he was officially part of the no-longer-single camp.

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see Jen. He’d missed her something fierce the past three days.

He gazed out the window, his pulse racing as the San Diego skyline came into view. The sun hovered over the horizon line, filling the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange. Made for a damn pretty sight, and he wondered if Jen had ever seen the sunset from a helo. If not, he’d have to take her up sometime. After all, he did have that pilot’s license he hardly ever put to use.

“I’m serious, this girl is a royal pain in the ass,” Dylan was saying. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”

Cash shifted his gaze to the blond SEAL in the seat across from him. Dylan had been griping about his older brother’s new girlfriend for the past ten minutes, and Seth, who was sitting next to the guy, finally rolled his eyes and said, “We get it. She’s a shrew. For the love of God, can we talk about something else?”

“Fine. Let’s talk about the chick you had over last week,” Dylan said. He shot the other men in the chopper a grave look. “I slept with the door locked and a knife under my pillow. No joke—I seriously believed she might murder me in my sleep.”

Seth grinned. “Don’t be an ass. Lisa’s a cool girl.”

“She had a
face
tattoo, man. And out of curiosity, is there any part of her body that
isn’t
pierced?”

“Nope.”

Cash chuckled. Seth had the most eclectic tastes when it came to women. Sometimes he went for the shy, fragile ones, other times it was the hardcore Goths, and then he’d switch it up and date a supermodel, followed by a plain Jane. The guy had no problem sampling every dish on the menu.

As Seth and Dylan’s banter continued, Cash glanced at Carson, who’d been quiet for the entire flight. A helo ride without Carson’s sarcastic remarks was bizarre, but Cash understood why the lieutenant was so somber. As far as he knew, Holly still hadn’t moved back home, and Carson being gone for the past three days probably hadn’t helped the situation.

Twenty minutes later, after the chopper touched down on the base, Cash said goodbye to the others and practically sprinted to the parking lot, with Ryan hot on his heels. Since he’d left his car with Jen, he had to rely on Ryan to drop him at their building, but fortunately, Evans seemed as eager to get going as Cash did. They were on the road in five minutes flat, and while Ryan drove, Cash grabbed his cell phone from the glove compartment and turned it on. Probably made him a total pansy, but when he saw the missed call and message from Jen, his heart did a dumb little flip.