The Last Execution (15 page)

“It’s either me or your dad. We made a pact.” He spread his hands out like the scales of blind justice, moving them up and down. “It doesn’t have to be a disaster.”

Shit.
She’d spoken those words out loud. She absolutely had to control herself. Her dad and J.T. had discussed her as if she had no choice. Being left out of the decision-making pissed her off. The irony of J.T. as her bodyguard and Leland McBride agreeing to the plan was laughable. Somewhere in there, she saw a smidgen of logic in their idea.

“So this is why Mom or Dad didn’t insist I go home with them. Where was I when you
men
had this summit meeting?”

“There you go getting pissy. Again.” J.T sat on the couch and folded his arms across his chest. “Your dad was in a state, muttering all day about what he wanted to do to Carrington. I convinced him I’d protect you.”

“That’s twice you’ve accused me of getting ‘pissy’ today.” She purposefully narrowed her eyes and returned his scowl. Her pride wanted to tell him she could take care of herself. Her bruises said he was right.

“Must mean there’s merit to my accusation.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“No, it doesn’t and don’t you laugh at me. I don’t disagree with the solution. Who knows what the rat-bastard is going to do next. Doesn’t mean the two of you shouldn’t have consulted me.”

J.T. lifted a shoulder. “Then all’s left is for you to choose where to sleep. Either way, we make a run to my place for clean clothes.”

She saw right through his bulging biceps and frown. “Folding your arms over your chest and staring grimly probably scares criminals, old ladies, and small children. Doesn’t work on me.” Sleeping in J.T.’s house had her hormones screwing with her normally logical thinking. “Relax. You and Dad won this round.”

“Just as well. He needed a break from the tension. He mumbled something about how he wished he’d killed the SOB. If he’s going to, and I’d understand if he did, he probably shouldn’t mention his plans around an FBI agent.”

“He’s being an overprotective parent. He’d never hurt anybody. I’ll have to tell him to be more careful what he says. He tends to ramble when he was frustrated and can’t solve the problem himself.”

Dad sure didn’t need to slip and tell J.T. about the rape. It would serve no purpose and nothing good could come from him knowing. She’d had enough of people’s pity and condemnation. She didn’t want that from him.
What you want, you can’t have.

“As long as you’re being cooperative, my bed’s more comfortable than your couch.” He stood and rubbed his lower back. “And Ethan’s looks to be about a foot too short.”

“Exactly how big is your place?”

“There’s two bedrooms, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’ll get an overnight bag.”

Leigh closed the bedroom door behind her, leaning her head back against the cool wood. Jason almost destroyed her life once before. She’d gone through hell and been rewarded with a reason to live. The love of her life, Ethan. Her resolve was stronger after last night. She’d never allow Jason near her son. His time in prison had made him meaner, crueler, and more cunning. She had to put him back behind bars for the rest of his sentence. Her fear for Ethan last night rushed through her system like wildfire. If she proved he was behind her recent attack, he’d be gone for an extra long time.

Pulling herself back to the job at hand, she pulled a bag from the closet. She covered her bruised breast with her hand when that simple movement caused an explosion of lightning strikes. Should’ve been more careful, should’ve remembered how hugging Ethan goodbye had brought tears to her eyes. Carefully, she filled the suitcase and then rejoined J.T. in the living room.

“I could’ve come after this, if you’d called me.” He took the roller bag from her, pushed the handle down, and picked it up. He raised and lowered his arm a couple of times. “Damn. You plan on staying a long time?”

“My gun lock box is in there.” She chuckled on the way to the car. Laughing felt good, but having that pistol within reach felt better.

****

Sunday, May 2, 10:30 p.m.

Jason shifted in the seat and met Vick’s gaze. “He wore the cologne?”

“Yeah. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust anybody. I need details.”

Vick breathed out, filling the car with a disgusting odor. “He knocked the shit out of her a couple of times before he choked her.” Vick snorted a laugh. “Tried to pop her nipple like a pimple.”

“Damn, I’ll bet that hurt.” Jason got hard listening to the events of last night’s visit.

“Yeah.” Vick’s voice got low and husky. “I used the same move on him later.”

Jason shivered in the dark. His dick went down faster than the Titanic. “Don’t talk that shit around me.” He’d had enough of Vick’s perversions in prison. Which was one of the reasons Jason would enjoy killing the ex-con. “Tell me what else you learned about Leigh then get out of my car. I hate Woodland Park and this part of town.”

Vick cracked his knuckles. The sound echoed through the car and sent ice shards up Jason’s spine. The habit telegraphed a warning Vick’s nerves were on edge. People usually got hurt when he was frustrated. Emotionally or sexually.

“We can meet at your fancy apartment.”

Ignoring the wisecrack, Jason asked, “How long did you watch her place today?”

“Off and on, four hours. I moved around, parked in different places. Didn’t take long for the guy to change out her locks, maybe a couple of hours. The old couple spent the day with her. Her boyfriend was there this morning when I made my first pass. They left together. I got a look at him when he carried a suitcase out to his car. Big fella.” Vick drew a line down his cheek. “Scar.”

“You followed, right?” Jason’s blood stirred, heated inside his veins. So she thought she’d sneak off and hide. Let her try. “Find out everything you can about this bastard.”

“I got his license plate number and address of the building. You want ’em?”

Jason barely kept his cool. Damn, he wanted to tell the dumb bastard how stupid he was. “Of course.” He held out an envelope filled with cash and traded for a crumpled piece of paper. “You took care of the guy who broke in Leigh’s house?”

“He won’t be a problem.”

“Is he fuckin’ dead or not?”

“Not yet. What do you care when he dies? He can’t be tied back to you.”

“I don’t give a shit when or how...as long as it’s done.” Jason didn’t want to imagine the disgusting things Vick would do to the poor schlep before he put him out of his misery.

Wordlessly, the pervert got out and closed the door. Like clockwork, when Jason checked his rearview mirror, the crazy bastard had walked into the middle of the street. Standing straight as a sentry, watching.

****

Sunday, May 2, 11:00 p.m.

J.T. unlocked the door and let Leigh inside his apartment. The second she crossed his threshold, it hit him. She might’ve been right, having her here could turn into a disaster. Alone, without the kid around she was too much temptation. Smart and quick-witted. Beautiful and way too sexy. J.T. had nothing more to offer her except a good time, and she wasn’t the type to use for sex and then move on.

Not tonight though. Not in her condition. Not with her hurt and scared.

“Do you rent or own?”

“I bought during the market downturn. For an eighth-floor two-bedroom home in an old refurbished office building, the price was right. I repainted the interior. Saved a lot of money.”

“The view from the wall of windows makes the place.”

“Yeah. Sold me. Most of the furniture Nana donated from her storage shed.” That Leigh liked the place pleased him for some dumbass reason.

“I think I’d like a shower before we eat.”

“Me too.” He laughed at the widening of her eyes. “Relax. There’s two bathrooms.”

J.T. finished first, so he unpacked the barbeque they’d picked up, and then spread the Styrofoam containers across the breakfast counter. When she padded down the hall barefoot, dressed in warm-ups the same shade of blue as her eyes, his appetite spiked and not for food. Damp, her long blonde hair hung down her back in silky waves.
Jesus Christ.
Her satiny skin begged to be touched. She was completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

For the next couple of hours, they talked about work, never touching on anything personal, because when he broached the subject of her attack, she quickly changed the subject. Staying out of her personal business was getting difficult.

He stood and hit the light switch, throwing the room into darkness, so the city lights shined from below.

She quietly moved to stand beside him. “Ethan confessed he asked about your scar.”

“So much for the kid keeping a secret.”

“He thinks it’s cool to have a friend who survived a bomb blast. I hope he wasn’t rude.”

“He wasn’t.”

She raised her hand, and for a split second, J.T. feared she was about to touch his face. Part of him ached for her to reach for him. God only knew how he’d react if she did. Disappointment slid across him when she dropped her hand to her side. Odd, because normally he didn’t like people to touch that side of his face.

“Well, I apologize for his behavior. He knows better.”

She turned back to the window and away from him. J.T. had spent the last few years accepting his looks. So why did he wonder or care if the scar made her turn away? He administered a mental slap to his head.
Get real.
After what she’d just been through why was he even going down that road?

“The view’s breathtaking.”

“Yes, it is.” If she figured out he was referring to her, she ignored his remark.

“You ever been married?” Her gaze stayed on the horizon.

So she had known he’d commented on her beauty. She wanted to change the subject.

“No. Never wanted to.” He had to be honest with her. It wasn’t his intention to mislead her. The quick straightening of her back said she got the message.

“Never is a long time.”

“We Nobles are better left unwed.”

“I should turn in.” Her voice sounded distant and withdrawn. “We’ve got a sniper to catch tomorrow.”

She’d taken a couple of steps toward the hall when he realized how badly he wanted her to stay. “What about you? Any ex-husbands I should know about.”

Sweet Jesus.
She’d showered with his personal soap, and the scent filled the air behind her. The effect was more powerful than the usual hint of citrus in her hair. He rolled his fingers into a fist to keep from reaching out. She was hurt, and tonight she was vulnerable. Taking advantage of her fear and insecurity was out of the question. However, his dick had no conscience and hardened with need. He clamped his teeth down, ignoring his desire.

“No. I never married.” She stopped but didn’t face him. “When I was seventeen, my uncle was killed in a drive-by. Boys and dating didn’t seem so important afterward. His death helped me decide my major in college.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

What was she sorry for? Not getting married? Her uncle’s death? Or for walking away from him?

“Leigh.”

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes full of questions, sending his blood pressure over the moon.

“You’ll get through this.”

“I know. I have before.”

She crossed the wide expanse of the loft, hesitating at the turn long enough for him to hope she might come back. He held his breath. She moved, and seconds later, he heard the snick when the spare room door closed.

Another long fucking night.

Chapter Eleven

Monday, May 3, 8:45 a.m.

Casey held up a finger, keeping Leigh in her seat when the meeting ended and the team filed out. She’d explained the break-in and her bruised face, including her belief the attacker was an old boyfriend from years ago. Had her explanation not been enough? She’d left out the fact he was her son’s father. If Casey wanted her to confess more—too bad.

Cramps hit her stomach, rolling through in waves. After her prior conversation with him, he must’ve dug into her background. If so, he’d learned about the rape and trial. Was he going to send her back to CID? Was she being paranoid?

“Leigh.” His eyebrows dipped as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I have to consider—”

“No need to explain,” she interrupted. “I’ll give my notes to J.T. and leave right away.” She swallowed the knot wedged in her throat. She didn’t like his reasons for sending her back to CID, but she understood. Negative publicity could damage the Fed’s reputation.

“Did I say your assignment’s been terminated?” He stopped her from interrupting again with a wave of his hand. “I asked you to stay behind because I sensed you’re troubled. Telling the team about your attack was difficult. No need to deny it, your face told the real story.”

“I’m trying to protect my son.” Her temper flared. How could he not understand her motive? “No one here knows I was raped, or that I got pregnant, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Casey’s head moved back slightly. His eyes flashed with surprise. That expression quickly disappeared.

Shit.
Now what?

“You didn’t know.” Leigh sunk lower in her chair, drowning in her own stupidity. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.