THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

“If you’re hungry, I make a mean hot turkey, pastrami and Swiss sandwich.” Jake had his head in the fridge. There wasn’t much else to offer. A cold beer wasn’t exactly what a freezing woman should drink. He didn’t even have frozen dinners left to heat and serve. He’d been guzzling the coffee swill at the department for a week, avoiding the grocery store, occasionally getting a good cup from a diner.

Bree’s soggy shoes squeaked on the worn linoleum. “Are you certain staying here long enough to eat is a good idea? They said they’d be watching us until we had the money. I don’t think stopping off for a change of clothes and a hot sandwich is what they had in mind.”

He checked his watch, eight o’clock. He hoped MacMahan could get the gear together in two hours. He needed a list and a moment alone. That’s all the time they could spare before they should be on the road. “I have to make a quick call.”

“When can I call my family?”

“It might not be a brilliant idea, but we both stink to high heaven because of that lake dunking. I don’t plan to ride in that truck with you for five or six hours in these clothes. Now, are you hungry? I happen to be starved.” He pulled the sandwich stuff from the shelf, then pulled the skillet from the dish drain, keeping an eye on his frustrated prisoner.

Bree Watkins glared at him as she crossed her arms and headed toward a kitchen chair. “Dallas and I don’t have a problem with the smell.”

Dipping the knife in the butter, he acknowledged that she wouldn’t let the call to her family wait for long. He also realized an exasperated sigh had come from him. Her family could be in danger or they could be the ones behind everything. He had no way of knowing and needed time to weigh his options. Time to think of a plan instead of react to the problem.

He’d ignore the request for a phone call until he made a decision. Turning from the bread, he pointed the butter tub in Bree’s direction. “I’m in charge and I do have a problem with smell. That’s a brand-new truck sitting out there. And we really do stink. Now strip.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her shock erupted as a nervous giggle.

The same cute sound from early that morning that had been so damn attractive.
Stow it, marine.
One more time, he debated sharing why it was important to wait on the supplies he needed. He’d be prepared this time.

“I’ll wash your clothes while you shower. How did you think we were going to clean up?”

“I... That can’t possibly be a good idea. What if they come here and I’m—”

“Soapy?” He laughed, unable to stop himself. The look on her face was priceless. “We weren’t followed. Promise. If you’re worried about getting on the road, you should probably get moving.”

She stood and Dallas jumped off the couch to follow. Bree picked her up and Jake held out his hands to take her.

“I’m serious about the stench. The paramedics warned me about an infection.” He pointed to his bullet graze. “Do it for me. After all, I did save your life.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to guilt me into compliance. Oh, my gosh! Hanging around here can’t be a good idea.” His “prisoner” huffed down the short hallway. He and Dallas followed close behind. He got his hand on the door, stopping her from closing it. Guilty conscience or not, it seemed to do the trick.

“What now?” she asked, facing him, trying to close the door. “You are not coming in this bathroom with me.”

“I need your clothes and you aren’t locking me out.”

“In your dreams, Detective. I am not taking my clothes off in front of you.” Her words were commanding, but she took a step in retreat when he cupped his hand around the door.

“You can hop behind the curtain and hand them to me before you turn the water on. Nothing lecherous about that.”

“I, um, I’m not sure I trust you that much.”

He crossed his arms like she had in the kitchen and made himself comfortable leaning against the doorjamb, keeping the door open with his foot. Hoping that he looked innocent, with no ulterior motive. In reality his thoughts were just like any other red-blooded marine when confronted with the possibility of a naked woman. To make the situation worse, he’d been attracted to Bree since the first shy giggle drawing his attention to the corner of the diner.

If today hadn’t happened, finding her would be a primary objective. But right now, his objective was to get them cleaned up, gather some gear and be gone.

Bree toed off her wet shoes. Funny, he was supposed to be a detective and hadn’t noticed that she’d been wearing a tight-fitting sweater all day. Purple, close to the color of her eyes. Granted, she’d been in a heavy coat most of the time. But in the bathroom light, her eyes were the deep amethyst he’d admired first thing.

Dallas sat on the floor between them. He picked her up and took a long sniff of the puppy. “You smell terrible. That lake water left all of us stinky grimy. You have to clean up, too, girl. Now don’t look at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. It won’t be so bad.”

“It’s completely embarrassing and wrong. I haven’t known you twenty-four hours and this is... I’d never do this.”

“You’re taking a shower and we’re doing nothing improper. I’ll keep my eyes closed. See?” He clamped his eyes shut, concentrating on sounds.

The shower curtain holders slid opened and closed. Her body shifted. Even if he opened his eyes, he’d only see her silhouette behind his cheap blue curtain. He assumed the wet jean material was being peeled from each slender thigh and tiny foot. Yeah, she had feet the appropriate size for someone of her short height. The plastic shifted again, a plop on the bath mat. Then the purple sweater dropped from over the rod.

It would be wrong to open his eyes and watch the rest.

What’s wrong were the images in his head. Actually, there was nothing wrong with the images there. After being loyal to his wife and being stationed overseas for six years, his imagination was pretty darn good. Naked, sleek muscles with water droplets hugging every curve...

Eyes open, he put the pup on the floor and bent to scoop her clothes into a pile, immediately wishing he could throw them away instead of wasting time in the wash cycle. The shower came on. His body reacted. A woman he was attracted to was on the other side of that curtain.

She’s my prisoner. Sort of my prisoner. I’m not a cop anymore.

He couldn’t lie. He wanted Sabrina Watkins with a fierce part of himself he hadn’t dealt with in a very long time.

The curtain moved again. The pup had nudged it aside. He saw the outline of Bree bend at the waist to help her inside the tub.

“So you decided on a bath, too? Good girl.”

“Clean towel is on the hanger.” He pointed to the rod over the toilet. “My robe’s on the back of the door when you’re done.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Great.”

There wasn’t a window in the bathroom and probably no way for Bree to escape while his back was turned— especially naked—but he couldn’t risk it. She had managed to get past him twice today, not including the abduction. He marched to the kitchen, dropped the stinky clothes and obtained a screwdriver from under the sink, where he kept a small tool kit.

Removing the doorknob only took a couple of minutes. He was silent enough that he didn’t think Bree heard him. Bright laughter from the shower in spite of the desperate way she must feel made him wish she really was the first
woman
in his shower instead of the first prisoner.

As soon as she finished in the shower, he’d start the washer. He got everything ready, and noticed how tattered the sweater was. Unlike the jeans, which looked barely worn. It didn’t make sense.
Dammit.
She’d said he’d cut the coat off. He’d sliced her sweater and she hadn’t said a thing.

Not one word. And he’d forced her into a shower without thinking about any possible trauma she might be suffering from the abduction. He dialed a number he hadn’t been able to dial in months.

Mac had been a marine specialist and a good friend who mustered out three months before him. Jake didn’t know if he’d answer with only an exchange of phone numbers over the past two years.

“Hey, Craig, buddy. Where have you been keeping your lonesome self?”

“It has been a while, Mac. I’m texting you a shopping list.”

“For girls? I’ve been waiting for this. I heard you got divorced.” His friend laughed.

“Afraid you’re going to continue to wait for that party. You still in private security and able to supply friends?” He walked to the bathroom, wanting to push the door open and...and what? The shower was still running. He could hear a few words addressed to the dog.

“How long do I have to fill the order?” Mac asked.

Jake pivoted to the kitchen, away from Bree. “ASAP. I’d like wheels up by 2200.”

“You’ll be limited to what I have on hand and how long it takes me to get to wherever you live. You need a clean vehicle?”

“I’m good on that front. Something’s better than nothing. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thought you had a whole police force at your back, man.”

“Yeah, not so much. The quicker the better.” Bree’s clothes were pretty ruined. His blood boiled. The rips in the back of her sweater were probably from that psycho cutting her coat off. And he’d seen the small wounds on her right arm.
Son of a bitch.

“One more thing, Mac. There are a few items for a friend. No laughing. No questions. Shop anywhere that’s open.”

“You need any help with this op, Jake?”

“Not this go-round, man. This is something I have to do on my own.” He couldn’t let anyone else risk anything. He didn’t know why he thought he could trust this woman, but he couldn’t ask anyone else to.

“Okay, but you’ll owe me a favor sometime and you better plan on departing at 2230.”

“Not ever a problem. Thanks, Mac.” He disconnected and texted the list he’d been mentally preparing. He also flipped on the Weather Channel, hoping they’d rotate through what the weather was like in the Texas Panhandle. The snow front had come from the northwest all week, but he hadn’t heard anything about the forecast.

“Jake, I need you.” She couldn’t mean what first entered his mind.

He dropped the phone and sprinted to the bathroom, curious. The wet dog aroma hit him as soon as he entered the misty shower and he knew why she’d called for help. Bree contained a shivering Dallas next to her in the tub.

It was hard to concentrate on anything other than her creamy skin that had a dozen or so freckles. She had excellent muscle tone. Just right for a woman, proving that she worked out somewhere. Wishing that was all he could see, he focused on the squirming dog with a paw on the edge of the tub instead of the perfect derriere covered by one layer of terry cloth.

“She’s through playing, but I still need to rinse my hair. You forgot to leave extra towels.”

Bree was wrapped in one of the four that he owned. He held his hands out but was met with a vigorous shake of dog and tiny shocked squeal from Bree. He needed to act fast, before that corner holding her towel in place became unsecured and he could see more than he needed. Or should.

“Are you going to wrap her in your dirty shirt?” Her perfect lips raised in a clever smile. “You wouldn’t want her to get
stinky
again. Would you?”

“Just a sec.” The clean towels were still in the dryer. He grabbed them and got back in the tiny bath just as Dallas jumped from the tub and began shaking.

He dropped the towel on top of the pup and rubbed. “What’s the idea?”

“I had to set her down. My towel was slipping. Then she jumped. Watch out, she’s slippery when wet.”

Slippery tile was much easier to handle than the slippery slope that would happen if he caught a glimpse of more than bare shoulders and knees. There’s no telling where he—or they—might fall.

Bed was the most probable conclusion.

Chapter Twelve

Bree stared at Jake’s king-size bed. It looked inviting and absolutely huge. Since he’d barely let her out of his sight, she was stuck standing in the hall alternating her view between bed and bath. It was either envying Dallas, sound asleep and curled in the middle of a large mattress with soft pillows, or Jake’s jean-clad backside as he dried the tile with a washcloth since he was out of towels.

Sometimes the bath view made her forget she was in trouble or that the man on his knees had threatened to turn her in to the police. Duh, he
was
the police. He’d changed his dirty slacks for an old pair of work jeans. Slung low on his hips, frayed holes in both knees and, of course, no shirt.

She tightened the belt around her only garment and switched to staring at the bed. His fluffy robe was nice and warm for all of her body except her feet. Those were covered with a pair of his woolen socks that looked and felt like marine issue.

“Don’t you have a pair of sweats I could put on? You could shower and we could be on our way in fifteen minutes instead of a couple of hours waiting on clothes.”

“I told you—”

“I know, you’ve got it covered. Just be patient.”
Easier said than done.
“Dallas seems to love your bed.” Tired and dead on her feet, she wanted to sink onto that pillow top, dive under the heavy comforter and not move for three days. She’d go without food to just lie in one spot and not have to think about anything.

“You ready?”

She must have phased out leaning on the door frame because Jake stood in the hall holding a sofa cushion in one hand and pointing toward the bathroom with the other. “Aren’t you going to shower?”

“Yep. And if you think I’m letting you wander the apartment...forget it.” He pulled his handcuffs from his back pocket.

“Now, come on, Jake. Where do you think I can run dressed like this?”

“I turned my back on you twice and you disappeared on me. Twice. It’s not happening again. Have a seat.” He dropped the cushion in the doorway. She tried to pass and he took her left wrist gently, stroking the scratches she’d received while trying to free herself at the warehouse. “I wish I could keep it loose, Bree, but I’m afraid they don’t work that way.”

She knew and understood his dilemma. He rubbed a thumb across her pulse point, where the same handcuffs had rubbed her raw. The soothing circles of his fingers worked magic, but all too soon he put his arm around her and helped her sit. Then reaching behind her shoulders, his warm breath caressed her ear as he leaned to connect the second handcuff to the pipe under the sink.

The tickle made her tweak her neck close enough to the hero of the day she could kiss him. She wanted to. It would be the most natural thing in the world to lean just a bit forward...

Her eyes fluttered open as she caught her movement. Jake had met her halfway and their lips explored each other. Excitement mixed with longing and wonder, then an “oh, no, what am I doing” moment took over.

Their kiss was everything the connection she’d shared with him in the coffee shop had promised. And then some.

The sound of the handcuffs closing around the sink’s drain caused her to pull back too far and bump her head on the wall. How embarrassing. She’d kissed him and he’d cuffed her.

“Ah...am I supposed to cover my eyes when you undress? Don’t you feel a little awkward?” She wasn’t clear if she spoke about the upcoming shower or the rising anticipation his touch had caused. She didn’t close her eyes, keeping them completely open and noticing the day’s growth of stubble on his jaw.

The lines etched into his face—were they from smiles or worries? His closeness made her curious to know which. His nearness mixed with a simple desire to want anything other than what was actually happening to her.

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I’ve been showering with other people for eight years. Six of those years were in a tent in the desert. Sharing a shower with one person is super easy.”

He stood and unbuttoned the top button to his jeans as if she was another soldier. Her free hand smacked her eyes she covered them so quickly. She wanted to be casual about watching. If he weren’t so darn cute or hadn’t just kissed her and moved on like it was nothing, maybe it would be easier to watch him undress. She heard the loose jeans fall to the floor, the hamper lid as it dropped shut, the tub curtain pulled to the side and swished back into place. She was glad one of them didn’t have a problem showering in front of others and wished she’d been brave enough to peek. She dropped her hand but kept her eyes shut, leaning her head against the hard wall.

Someone calling her name brought her back from the edge of a nightmare starring Larry in his black ski mask. His knife was about to cut more than her sweater.

“You were snoozing hard and fast there. Sorry to wake you, Sleeping Beauty, but can you toss me that towel on the sink? I can get it, but I’d be in my altogether.”

Bree could see more through the opaque curtain than she’d imagined possible. The outline of his tall, lean body for one. She reached above her head for the towel and tossed it in his general direction. She’d seen his shoulders while he walked around bare chested. Well, not completely bare—it had the cutest amount of hair right where there should be.

“Thanks for taking such a quick shower.” She gulped.

“No choice. All the hot water was gone.” Behind the plain curtain, Jake shook the water from his hair, much like Dallas had earlier.

Bree admired his outline as he gingerly dabbed at the spot above his ear where he’d been shot. She was very grateful he wasn’t asking her to answer questions. She was certain she’d forgotten how to speak.

Oh, my goodness.
He stepped over the side of the tub with the towel splitting open across his thigh. Her eyes had to be popping from their sockets. She couldn’t force them to close, her free hand refused to rise to her face and she was definitely no longer sleepy.

“I decided to save time and live with the stubble.” He scratched his sexy jaw with his nails, creating a sound only stubble on a man’s chin can make. She knew what his stubble against her cheek felt like, and darn it, she wanted to feel it there again.

Water droplets still clung to his tanned, hard chest. How could a man be so tan in the middle of winter? She wanted to know more about him. Why had he left the marine corps and how could he be so darn confident putting a plan into action to help her?

“I’ll be back in a sec to unlock you.”

There wasn’t much space in the doorway. As tempting as he was to look at, she shifted and practically hugged the pipe with both arms. He passed behind her and she began to relax a little.

Then his towel shot over her head, landing in the tub. She dropped her face in her hands and heard roaring laughter behind her from his bedroom. He didn’t shut the door.

Holy moly.