If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (24 page)

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

A grin curled her lips. “Hi, gorgeous.”

It hit him, even after all these months, a punch in the gut—love, lust, need, amazement. She was his. He was hers. She loved him … he’d found her. The woman meant for him, only him …

Shaking his head at the direction of his thoughts, he made his way to her.

Her mouth tightened, a concerned frown. “Your leg’s bothering you.”

“Nah,” he muttered, reaching up to pull her glasses off. “It’s fine.”

She might have said something else—
would
have said something else, but he didn’t want to hear it. Before she could, he kissed her, tilting her face back and covering her mouth with his, listening as she sighed, satisfaction rolling through him as she opened for him.

He pulled back a minute later, his heart pounding heavy in his chest, lust a pleasant, heavy ache in his groin. Lena hummed and licked her lips.

Then she sighed and said, “Nice distraction … but your leg is still bothering you.”

“Not so much now.” Sliding a hand around her waist, he tugged her closer, tucked her hips against his. “Something else is bothering me now.”

“Pervert.” She grinned at him and then eased back. “I’m on the clock.”

“Then take a break. We can slip into the pantry.”

“Pervert. And I think that violates health codes.” She snorted. “Give me my glasses.”

Sighing, he pushed them into her hands and watched as she slid them back on. Leaning a hip against the counter, he studied the island. It was mostly quiet in the kitchen for now, but it wouldn’t be for long. The rest of the help would be showing up any minute now. If he could just stall …

“So, what are you doing out here?”

Shit.

“Maybe I missed you. You usually don’t work on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice try.”

“What … you saying I can’t be missing you?”

She just waited expectantly.

“Okay. Things are just running a little slow, so I left work early. Now I’m just killing time,” he hedged. “I’m going to take you home tonight.”

Dark red brows arched high. Her mouth firmed out. “Oh, really.”

She’d been in the process of getting back to work, but now she faced him again, crossing her arms over her chest. “And just why would that be, Sheriff?”

He popped his neck, staring out the window. “I just felt like driving my wife home. There a problem with that?”

“Not unless you spend the entire day loitering around my place of employment,” she replied, her voice dry. She moved closer, lifted a hand.

Reaching out, he caught it. Pressing a kiss to her palm, he stared at her face.

He couldn’t talk about this with her here, not now. Not here.

“What’s going on, Ezra?” she asked quietly. Then she stiffened and sighed.

He heard it a second later—the buzz of voices and laughter. The rest of the kitchen staff.

“Well, you just lucked out, I think, didn’t you?” she muttered.

Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly, ignoring the noise as the door opened and several of the employees joined them.

“Yeah.”

He’d damn well make sure of that.

Her bike was there, parked in front of Nia’s cabin. But she wasn’t.

He knew, because he’d seen her over at Reilly’s, along with her cop escorts.

Breaking in during the day was a risky move, but he wanted to act now while he knew she was still shaken. He went through the place from top to bottom, dumping her clothes in a heap on the floor, cutting them to ribbons as he went. Then using a bottle of black spray paint—the generic kind anybody could buy at Walmart—he sprayed a huge
X
over the mirrors in the bathroom and over the bureau, as well as the TV and along the walls.

He used his knife to slash up the bed.

He was in and out in under five minutes, going through the back door.

It opened up onto a lovely, rather private little balcony—made it so much more convenient for him. He’d been able to muffle the sound of the glass he’d broken on the back door simply by wrapping a rock in the small towel he’d stashed in his pocket.

He left the glass alone, his only concern now to get as far away from the little cabin as he could. Perhaps he’d pop into the Inn’s lounge, have a drink. Talk to people. It was close to dinnertime. It wasn’t unusual for him to be seen there. The Inn was a popular place, much like the bar where he’d seen Nia Hollister that first night.

He didn’t want to deviate from his regular routine or anything.

As he circled around the property, he was smiling, rather pleased with himself.

She’d be freaked out. Probably pissed. She wasn’t a coward, he knew that.

But this would upset her.

How much before she got too unsettled?

That alone might be enough to help him out. If he got her unsettled, made her look a little less … steady … then if she
did
go to the sheriff, he’d be less likely to pay her any attention, and that could buy him the time he’d need to plan better.

Yes. He thought that could work.

Rounding the bend, turning that around in his head, he was only half paying attention to the cars in the parking lot. The sight of a familiar truck almost had him tripping on his feet.

That
truck hadn’t been here earlier—he hadn’t seen it.

Ezra’s truck.

Fuck.

What was the sheriff doing out here?

Then he took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Hell, his wife worked here. Maybe he was there to see her? Uneasy, he slowed a little as he circled the parking lot, still heading for the Inn.

He didn’t understand why, but the muscles in his neck and shoulders were damn tight now. Damn tight. The sight of Ezra’s truck had him uneasy. Fucking uneasy …

A drink.

He needed to get a drink. Get home. Get fucked.

Relax.

He was so worried he was going to screw up, if he wasn’t careful, he’d make his own self-fulfilling prophecy.

“What?”

Ezra stared into his glass of whiskey, debated on whether he should say it again.

But just when he was getting ready to, Lena shot up off the couch. Her face was cold and tight, her skin so pale. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out—I know I should have
said something sooner, baby.” He stared at her, his heart aching. “I just … hell. I was just trying to figure out the right way. Then Carson died, and it looked like the case was closed and it was just a freak accident. Now …”

He sighed, lifted his whiskey up, tossed it back. As it burned a path down to his stomach, he grimaced and set the glass aside.

“And now?” Lena echoed, her voice stiff.

“Now, I don’t know.”

She snorted. “Yeah, nice try.
Now
it looks like maybe some psychopath is out there targeting women who look like me and you’re deciding to tell me because maybe the killer isn’t dead—”

“Lena.”

She ignored him, talking over him, the words coming out so fast she was practically tripping over herself as she spoke.

Rising, he moved to her, catching her in his arms. “Lena. We don’t know that. At all. Hell, it’s not even
pointing
to that. It was
one
woman and trust me, I’ve been following up on any incident involving a woman who bears even a
resemblance
to you. I’m not finding any other connections here.”

He reached up, touched her cheek.

She turned her face away. “Damn it, Ezra.”

“Lena …”

A ragged breath escaped. It was followed by a sob. “Damn you. This was supposed to be
over
,” she whispered. She leaned against him, pressed her face against his chest.

“I know.” Cradling the back of her neck, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, cuddling her close. “I know. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

“You can’t be with me all the time, though, can you?
And shit, neither of us can stop speeding bullets or crazy shit like that …”

“Shhhh.” Capturing her chin in his hand, he tipped her head back, rubbed his lips over hers. “Stop thinking like that. And stop thinking I can’t take care of you—and hell, stop thinking
you
can’t take care of you. You’ve got better instincts than almost anybody I know. Just listen to them.”

Tucking her against his chest, he eyed the dog lying under the window. Puck stared at him, his eyes bright, intelligent.

Yeah. She had good instincts. She’d also have him watching her. As well as one big, mean dog who was already crazy protective of her. Besides, Ezra didn’t really see any reason why he couldn’t be with her all the time. Or practically. If he had to all but live in her back pocket, have Reilly or Hope here when he couldn’t be, or keep her at the Inn. As long as she wasn’t alone.

He could make that happen.

At least for a while …

“What do you mean, they don’t think Joe did it?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Remy wished he’d poured himself a drink before he’d sat down to talk to Hope about this. Shit. He didn’t even know exactly
what
he was talking about, either.

He’d understood the urgency in King’s voice, though, and that was enough.

Blowing out a breath, he reached out and caught Hope’s hand in his. Her engagement ring flashed in the light. “Angel, I don’t know exactly what’s going on just yet. Ezra said he’d explain more tomorrow. But apparently there are some things that aren’t adding up. He’s worried about Lena. So we’re going over there.”

“But what does this have to do with Joe?” she asked,
her voice shaking. Her green eyes were overbright and she had bitten her lip so hard, it looked bruised.

Pushing back from the table, he came around to kneel beside her. He captured her face in his hands, rubbed one thumb over her lip. “Hope, I just don’t know. We’ll have to go over. Talk to them. See what’s going on.” Then he kissed her, softly, slowly. “But stop looking so terrified … regardless, Carson’s
gone. He
can’t hurt you now.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“I know that. But if
he
didn’t do all that crazy, awful stuff … if he wasn’t the one who killed that girl, then maybe …” Her voice broke and she looked down.

He followed her gaze, found himself staring at the fading scars that lined one soft, pale wrist.

“If Joe didn’t do that, maybe he didn’t do
this
, either,” she whispered.

He kept his eyes down until he knew the fury he felt wouldn’t show on his face. Gently, he lifted her hand up, kissed the faded scars. Then he looked at her.

“If it wasn’t Joe, then we’ll find who is responsible. And whoever it was? We’ll get them. You were strong enough to face Joe, you’re strong enough for this,” he said flatly. “And I’m not going to let
anybody
hurt you.”

Not again, he swore as he pulled her against him. Never, ever again.

“Not that one,” he said softly, watching as she reached for a necklace.

He knew she liked it. He liked seeing it on her … and remembering.

But he didn’t want her wearing it. She pouted, her lip sticking out.

Climbing out of the bed, he came up to her and nipped her lip. “Wear the gold one … it looks better on you,
especially with the blue. And you know I love you in blue.”

Tugging the hem of her skirt up, he spread her thighs and nudged her with his cock. “I really love you in blue,” he teased.

As he’d expected, she stopped pouting … smiled. As she spread her thighs for him, she tossed the silver necklace down onto her dresser.

He needed to get rid of it. Hide it for now. Something. But first … tugging her thong aside, he opened her, pushed inside, watched her as they fucked.

“I love you,” she whispered to him.

“Hmmm … love you, too …”

Later, as she slipped out of the room, after a hurried shower, he tucked the necklace into his pocket. He’d just put it out of sight for now. She’d think she’d lost it, especially after this morning. He loved her, but she was a fucking ditz. Of course, that was part of why he loved her.

So much easier to do the things he did when she saw only what he wanted her to see. But she was a sweetheart, too. He liked that. It appealed to him, always had.

Sooner or later, this mess would blow over and he’d miraculously “find” her necklace for her. But until then, it was just best it stay out of sight. With that resolved, he started planning his day. He had errands to do, work he needed to get done—he was behind, but he’d been so distracted he hadn’t been able to think lately. He was
still
distracted.

So far he hadn’t heard anything about Nia Hollister’s latest visitor. But that could be because she hadn’t yet gone back to her cabin. If she was spending the night with Reilly … Well, that was the first order of the day. Figure that out.

Then he needed to get his own work done. He could
check out things with Nia on the way to get some coffee, though. Wouldn’t take too much time. And while he was working, he could try to figure out the next step. Because he suspected he hadn’t done enough. Not yet.

He didn’t know just what it would take with her. Oddly, though … for some reason, he found the idea sort of intriguing. Providing he didn’t get too involved … too close.

It was dangerous, he knew, even thinking about getting any more involved than he had. The only rational explanation was that it had just been too long since he’d had a decent challenge. Months since Chicago and he couldn’t even consider that a challenge. It had been a fuck, and a fuck
-up
, but not a challenge.

He needed one, needed the challenge, the thrill.

Think
, he told himself. He needed to think. And as much as he’d like to get more personally involved in removing Nia Hollister from the scene, he just couldn’t risk it, he knew.

Keeping his distance was crucial. It wasn’t like she was getting close to anything, really. Yeah, she’d been in the woods, but finding his place without knowing where it was would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Nobody could find those spots by accident—just wasn’t possible.