Trusting Lucas Read online

  “And you knew about this?” Chloe asked Lucas.

  “I’ve known about the system; I’ve been installing it in the bunkers and tunnels at New Hope, but I only found out today that Zane had installed the same system here.”

  “Would you have ever told me?” Chloe asked, shooting a glare at her domineering and exasperating as hell brother. They were right back to him handling her. Worse, she was the last to know.

  She could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that the answer was no. Now to see if he had enough respect for her to admit it. She could forgive him if he was just honest with her.

  “No, I wouldn’t have told you,” he admitted.

  The air whooshed out of her lungs, and she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Chloe—”

  She closed her eyes and held up a hand, unable to look at him just yet since she was still counting to ten. “You don’t need to explain, and don’t tell the kids. Just like New Hope, I don’t want them to feel like they’re living in a prison.”

  Zane, Kinsley, and Lucas all glanced around at one another, their expressions saying a whole lot without a single sound.

  Maybe she’d just go ahead and count to one hundred. “What? Just tell me. I won’t break, dammit.”

  “Something’s up with the DEA. I don’t know what yet, but Vic—my former supervisor—he’s leery. This isn’t a guy who rushes to judgment. Chances are if he says something isn’t right, it’s not,” Lucas said from where he leaned against the wall.

  “But Aaron’s in prison. So’s that guy you were after. What’s his name?” she said, snapping her fingers.

  Lucas locked eyes with her. Those cool-blue eyes icy and hard. Assessing. “Aaron’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “He was killed in prison. I don’t know the details, but between Vic’s unease and Aaron’s death, we need to take precautions,” Lucas said.

  She shook her head and backed away as the truth closed in on her. The nightmare wasn’t over. She wasn’t safe. None of them were. “The kids. I told them there would be no more bad men. I promised.”

  “And there won’t be,” Lucas said, taking her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him. “Zane and I thought you could check with your parents. See how they’d feel about taking their grandkids on a trip for a couple of weeks.”

  “I don’t know. They don’t know them all that well, and my parents haven’t really been around kids—”

  Zane blinked up at her. “They raised us. I’m pretty sure they can handle Brielle and Tyler for a while.”

  “But they’re in school…”

  “We can talk to the principal and get it all worked out. It’s grade school. I don’t think it will be a problem,” Kinsley reassured her.

  “Why can’t you guys take them for a couple weeks?”

  “You were kidnapped from my front door. If anyone is watching, I’m on their radar, and so is Kinsley.”

  “This can’t be happening. I’ve done everything. Everything I was supposed to do. I’m in therapy. I got a job. I’m supporting those kids. I tuck them in every night. We eat every dinner at that table in there, talking about our day. I didn’t let another man into my house. And now you’re telling me none of it was enough. That they’re going to be uprooted again,” she said in a harsh whisper, struggling not to howl in sheer frustration.

  “They won’t know they’re being uprooted. Only the adults will. They’ll just think they’re going on a cool vacation with Grandma and Grandpa. Shit, they can take them to Orlando for a couple of weeks. Do the Disney thing. Universal Studios. Sea World. The kids will think it’s a great big adventure,” Zane said.

  Chloe whirled on him. “And what happens when two weeks is up, and this isn’t resolved?”

  “We’ll get it contained one way or another,” Zane said quietly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The authorities will get a handle on the situation, or we’ll step in,” Zane said.

  “There’s no other way, is there? I’m going to lose my babies again.”

  Lucas reached out, grasping her biceps.

  “I keep losing them. Even when I do the right thing.”

  “No, you’re not. I promise you, Chloe. You’re not going to lose them, even if keeping you all safe is the last thing I do.”

  She buried her face against his chest and held on to those hard arms of his, and that same sense of peace filled her. She dug her nails into his skin, wishing like hell she didn’t have to let go. That she never had to let go. But there was work to do, and he wasn’t staying in her house. He wasn’t sliding into her bed with her kids in the rooms just down the hall. She’d do things differently this time. For her kids. For herself.

  Because they mattered.

  One more time, Chloe. Find the courage to fight just one more time.

  “So now what?” she muttered, taking one last deep breath, breathing in his heat, his strength.

  She pulled out of his arms and found her brother staring at them, his face unreadable. Well, if the guy had something to say about her choice in men this time, too bad. It didn’t get better than a guy like Lucas. Someone willing to do anything, risk anything, to help those who couldn’t help themselves.

  “I can call Mom and Dad if you want,” Zane offered.

  Chloe shook her head. “I’ll do that part.”

  “They might think you’re in trouble again.”

  “And I’m not?” she asked.

  “You know what I mean. They’ll think that you brought it on yourself.”

  “Well, they’d be right. I got into this mess a long time ago by not trusting my first gut instinct. And I thought it was over, but it’s not. So, I’ll call Mom and Dad. But if you want to offer to pay the tab for Orlando for the time being, I’d be eternally grateful. And I’d pay you back.”

  “There’s no need—”

  “Zane, don’t make me keep telling you that I need to do this on my own. It’s a loan. I’d tell you to put it in writing, but I don’t want any sort of paper evidence for where I’ve put the kids. So, I count on you guys as witnesses,” Chloe said, aiming her index finger at Kinsley, then Lucas, putting them both on notice.

  “Done,” Kinsley said with a sweet smile.

  “I’ve already talked to Tex. He’s going to do a bit of dabbling in the DEA system and see what he can find for us. No ETA on that information yet.”

  “But he’s fast,” Lucas reassured her.

  “That’s it for tonight. Do me a favor,” Zane said, pushing to his feet. “Use this to call Mom and Dad. Just in case. Don’t discuss any of this on your cell.” He handed her a cheap, black flip phone.

  “It’s that serious already?” she asked.

  “It might be. So we’re not going to take a chance,” Zane said.

  “Are we safe here tonight?” she asked.

  “Yes, Cole is keeping surveillance outside tonight. His wife Josie talked to her dad, the police chief; he’s going to have extra units in the area indefinitely,” Zane said.

  She could close her eyes tonight. Tomorrow night, when she was alone, well, she’d figure that out later. She didn’t expect it to be pretty, but at least there wouldn’t be witnesses. “Good, then get out of here. My ice cream is melting, and I was about to watch a movie.”

  “You sure you’re okay alone?” Kinsley asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “She won’t be alone,” Lucas said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  “Oh, yes, I will. You’re going too.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We haven’t even been on a real date. And I promised my kids. Now scoot,” she said, giving his shoulder a shove in the direction of the door.

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Lucas asked, turning back to her from the doorway.

  “I’ve got butter pecan and Heath Ledger. I’ll be fine.”

  “The minute the kids are with your parents, we need to talk.”

  “Just remember talking involves words, not body parts,” she said, trying to be funny when she was feeling anything but. Just thirty more seconds and she could drop the confident act.

  Thirty. More. Seconds.

  “I’ll try to remember that. Come here,” he said, tugging at the neck of her pajama top. Slanting his mouth over hers, this wasn’t the polite kiss like from before; this was a deep, hot promise that they would be doing something about this slow burn between them. It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter 7

  Lucas rolled up to the curb in front of Chloe’s house and stared at the dark Spanish Style ranch. She’d sent her kids with her parents three days ago.

  The last time anyone had actually spoken to her.

  Word had it she’d shown up for work, but she hadn’t seen Zane or Kinsley in days.

  Or Lucas.

  The eyes on her house, often Cole, sometimes Slyder, could confirm she’d left for work and arrived home, but other than that, nada. Even the shades she’d once left open all the time had been shuttered.

  She’d handled the news well. She’d taken it all with resilience and still had been stubborn enough to even kick him out when all was said and done so she could go back to her movie and ice cream.

  But had she…or had she sat in the silence of her living room counting minutes until she knew she’d have to let her kids go.

  That darkness was back. He could feel it. And if she was battling, he was the one person who could understand and help her through it.

  He knocked on her door and waited. A thick silence was his only answer.

  Cole watched him out of the car window, his avid gaze watching the surroundings. The guy was good. He had a smart mouth and a warped sense of humor and used both to mask just how much he picked up.

  Lucas knocked again, this time calling her name. When minutes later the same silence loomed, he went to plan B. Zane hadn’t been happy to do it, and Chloe was going to have more than a few words to say about it when she found out, but on Kinsley’s suggestion, Zane had given Lucas everything he needed to get in.

  The key and the code to disable the standard security.

  He slid the key in the lock and pushed the door open to find the standard security panel disarmed. He glanced around and spotted her shoes in the middle of the floor, one flat, the other tilted on its side. Every time she’d head for the kitchen, she’d have to step over them.

  A buzzing filled his ears, and his hands reached for the holder clipped to the back of his belt. The feel of cool steel in his hands dragged him back to undercover DEA days, to the constant threat of death breathing along the back of his neck. The shifty eyes, the sinister smiles.

  As fucked up as it was, Chloe had been a bright spot in the pit of a miserable underworld of soulless monsters all craving power with fervor that bordered on mania and lunacy.

  Falling into the depths of crime was easy when one worked undercover, but Chloe had kept him tethered on the side of the good guys.

  He took two steps toward the kitchen and heard it.

  Chloe’s soft cry, not the tears of a woman who missed her kids, but the broken anguish he recognized as an addict.

  Still instinct insisted he keep his gun ready until he knew for sure, in case his own experiences, fears, and darkness inside were just manipulating him. Keeping his back along the wall, he moved sideways down the hall, following the sound. Crossing into her room, her bathroom door partially open, he hesitated.

  A sopping wet sponge flew across the doorway, slapped against the wall, and splattered against the floor.

  Silence.

  Still silence.

  How many times had he gotten to that place and wanted to end it? But who would he be doing it for? His sister didn’t speak to him. His mother was gone. His dad had taken off before he’d even gone to his first day of school. Who bore the burden of his existence?

  Only him.

  And deep down, he believed he deserved to suffer.

  What if Chloe were in there right now, ready to hasten the end to spare her kids, her parents, her brother any more turmoil and pain.

  Panic spiked from the pit of his belly into his throat. If he was right—no. No. He strode across the tile, no longer attempting to keep quiet. Smacking his arm against the door, he swung it wide and froze.

  Chloe shot upright in the water, her wild eyes meeting his. Arm straight, she aimed a 9mm right at him. Strong, but on the edge, she kept her hand steady.

  He raised his arms in surrender, clicked the safety on his weapon, and eased it onto the bathroom counter where she could see it. “Where did you get the gun?”

  Eyes red from crying made her pale skin stand out in sharp contrast as the only spot of color. “I bought it.”

  He took a small step toward her, his arms still raised. “And never learned how to use it.”

  “I did,” she said, the gun still aimed right at him.

  “Then they would have told you never to put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire.”

  “Who says I wasn’t ready?” she said on a thin thread of panicked defiance.

  He stopped, blinked, and blinked again, having absolutely no reply.

  He’d never once considered the fact that she’d turned. Not into something evil and sinister, but into someone who had tipped over the edge into his world where she’d do anything to wrestle control over her circumstances, even if that meant taking a life.

  He didn’t want that for her. Taking life, even if evil to the core, it left a stain that no amount of scrubbing could scour away completely. It became part of you. Leeched into your cells where it regenerated over and over, haunting you until the very end.

  But then, the red, raw spot on her inner elbow told him that she might already know the pain of what couldn’t be washed away.

  “Chloe,” he whispered, reaching for the barrel, trusting that she wouldn’t put a hole in his chest. And hell, if she did, he was no big loss, but he didn’t want that sitting on her conscience. She had enough to torture herself with for the rest of her life without adding him to the list.

  The minute he took the gun from her slim hand, her shoulders slumped.

  Curled into a ball in the center of a garden tub that dwarfed her, making her look like a small island in a turbulent sea, she buried her face in her hands, and a sob tore from her throat, raw and heartbreaking.

  He couldn’t stand by and watch this. How the hell could he sit there while explosive emotions bled from her?

  With three flicks, he released his first boot, and then the other. Keeping his movements slow and easy, he climbed into the tepid water. Settling in behind her, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed his face against the damp tangle of her hair.

  “Hold on and ride it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

  Her nails dug into his forearms.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered next to the shell of her ear peeking out from the dark, damp strands. “You think they won, but they didn’t. We’re here to feel the pain because they didn’t break us.” He kissed her shoulder. “You hear me? They didn’t break us.”

  She shivered in his arms and held on to him even tighter. “I hate them.”

  He squeezed her tighter against the chill in the air. “Good. You hold on to that.”

  “They took everything from me,” she whispered, that sound of despair from minutes before taking on a hard edge of defiance. “Every time I see that spot on my arm, I’m reminded just what they took from me.”

  He trailed his finger over the angry skin there, gripped her arm, and partially turned her in his lap to press his lips to the spot. He’d do it every day, so many times a day, until her only memory was of his lips—of his love.

  “And I see someone who shouldn’t have survived but did,” he said, sliding away a lock of hair that fell before her eyes. “I see a mother who returned to her kids no matter what, just like she swore she would. I see a powerful woman who never once gave up.”

  “She’s not always strong,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

  “Who is?”

  “You.”

  “No, I’m not. I can’t tell you how many times I sat with my gun in my hands, convinced I should suffer the way I’ve made others suffer. Knowing my life should be payment for the lives I’ve taken.”

  “They were bad.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t start out that way.” He cupped her head and searched her face, needing to make her understand. “At one time, they rode their bikes after school with their friends. They played video games. They snuck candy behind their mother’s backs. They did homework and had bedtimes. They were human once. They loved and were loved. And I ended it all.”

  “You’re not like them, Lucas. The difference between you and becoming the monsters they were is that you care about what you took.”

  “I’m a killer and a junkie, Chloe. Don’t try to make me out to be a hero.”

  “You’re mine.” Resting her palms against his soaked T-shirt, she pushed up, her lips right there, hovering over his.

  The air between their mingled breaths electrified, the energy shift bringing an acute awareness. His senses exploded. Sensations that would never otherwise register came alive. The water of the tap lapping at his forearms with every shift of their bodies, lifting the hair on his arms before laying it back down over his skin.

  The tightening of his muscles as tension filled him.

  His palm curled around Chloe’s ribs, his fingers digging into her slick, naked skin with every ragged breath she took.

  The room once weighted down with helplessness flared to life with intimate awareness and a craving so strong, it rivaled any high he’d experienced.

  Her plump, pink lips drew his gaze. He wanted to touch, to taste, but he wasn’t the vulnerable one. It had to be up to her. And before they went one step further, words burned in his heart, longing to be said. Now, while they couldn’t be dismissed as sex fueled words of lust.

  “I’ll never let you fall again,” he promised her with a harsh whisper.

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