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Sasha: I’m so sorry. There was an incident, but I swear I’m all right. I’ll call tomorrow and tell you everything.
Ted: I just drove by your house. Where are you? I’m picking you up.
“He wants to come get me.” The awkward exchange they’d shared on her patio was still fresh in her mind. It wasn’t like she wanted to leave Gus, but the more time she spent with him, the more she cared for him. Maybe it was past time she dealt with her intimacy issues, the fear of emotionally connecting with someone else she might lose. She was afraid, though, it was the only way to protect herself.
“Like hell,” he ground out, a growl erupting from his throat.
She met his eyes and raised a brow. “I’m an adult. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”
He blew out a sharp breath. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. If you want to go home, that’s fine, I’ll take you. But Sasha, Ted could very well be a suspect. He’s known you since the beginning. Saw the impact losing your family had on you. He’s in love with you. That’s one hell of a motivator.”
“Of course, he loves me. He’s my best friend.” She set down the phone and tried to rub away the chill that had gooseflesh spreading down her arms. How could she have been blind to Ted’s romantic feelings, and how long had he felt that way? There was no way Ted was a killer. When he caught a spider inside the house, he carefully deposited it outside. Her fear wasn’t for his innocence, it was how much she was going to hurt him when she didn’t return his feelings. And worse, there was another man monopolizing her thoughts, and he was staring at her with a penetrating gaze that roused every fiber of her being.
“I saw the way he looked at you,” Gus said, clenching his jaw. “He doesn’t want to be in the friend zone. You were almost killed yesterday. On the surface, it looks like I was the target and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what if someone suspected we’d leave together? Someone who’s been watching you, has taken note of my car parked in your driveway overnight?”
“Ted is not some kind of scorned lover. He probably only suggested moving in together because he was scared for me after what happened to Melissa Fletcher so close to my home.”
Gus’s eyes narrowed. She’d never told him exactly what Ted had said. The red letters scrawled over the linens at the hotel flashed behind her eyes. Had he somehow figured out that she’d slept with Gus and been enraged enough to ruin her work, to call her a whore? She shook her head. No. Just no. Considering Ted as a suspect was ridiculous. The metallic tang of blood trickled into her mouth. She’d been worrying at her lip with her teeth.
“Don’t tell him where you are. Please. Let us do our jobs and look at this thing from all angles. I know it’s not comfortable thinking of those close to you, and I swear it has nothing to do with being jealous of what he has with you.”
“You’re … jealous? Of what?” Her heart beat double time. A reckless part of her was desperate to hear him say that once this was all over, he’d still want her. To see where things went. The other part dreaded that moment because she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to try or if the fear of something happening to him would feed her panic anxiety. More attacks, more medicine. More feeling out of control and helpless.
Gus cleared his throat, and for a moment, she wondered if he’d answer her question. “He’s close to you. You trust him.” His eyes darkened, flashed with something that made her knees weak, even though she was sitting down. How could one look make her hormones snap and kindle, while her insides pooled like melted wax? A flush warmed her cheeks, and suddenly, her clothes were too tight, the fabric agitating her sensitive skin. The only thing she wanted covering her was Gus. He was still watching her, but his eyes closed, and he swore under his breath. Gus stood and stalked to the picture window and looked out. His broad, muscled back was tight and tense.
After a moment, she stood and walked over to the window. Touched her hand to his back. “I do trust you. With my life.” His muscles bunched beneath his shirt, knuckles blanching against the sill.
“Get some rest. First door on the left. Use anything you want in the en-suite. There’s shampoo and soap, and probably an unopened toothbrush in the closet. I put a clean shirt and some sleep pants on the bed for you.” His voice was toneless, and it was obvious he was fighting some kind of moral battle.
“What about you?” she tested. Probably not the best idea to poke a wound-up bear, but she wanted him. She released a breath, shocked by her selfishness. Gus was the one who had put his career on the line by being intimate with her. If he lost his job or was demoted, what would that mean for the life he’d built for himself and Julie? She was the one who would benefit and risk nothing if he gave in.
“Work. There are a few things I need to research.” He was shutting her out, not only physically, but emotionally. Pain stabbed into the base of her throat like a knife. Gus didn’t owe her a shred of emotional intimacy when she could only return the physical.
This distance was for the best, even though she hated it. “Thank you. For sheltering me from the bomb. For putting my safety before your own. You’re a good man. I hope you never doubt that.” She removed her hand from his back and turned to find the first door on the left.
Chapter Fourteen
Gus didn’t relax until his bedroom door closed with a light click. If he’d looked at her, his resolve would’ve snapped, and he would be devouring her beneath the sheets. He drew in a slow breath and tried to keep his mind off how she would look in his clothes. Ones that would be hanging off her petite, athletic frame. He stood like that, looking out the sink window, pretending the antidote for the longing coursing through him like poison wasn’t sleeping a few steps away. Her hair would be spread across his pillows, her body against his sheets. He hoped to God they would still smell like her in the morning, even though it would be a rare form of torture.
He couldn’t get his train of thought off Sasha, and it chafed his nerves. The more he distanced himself, the more the fear in his gut inflated. What if she started to close herself off? That was what needed to happen, but nothing could guarantee that she’d open up to him again. Every decision he made to be honorable mocked him as he imagined her slipping away. If he didn’t do this though, his conscience would never forget it. He wouldn’t be the man he’d worked so hard to become, and not the man that Sasha deserved.
He stalked to the living room and grabbed his laptop. The couch would be more comfortable for his research, and if he started to doze off, he could relocate to the spare room that they’d turned into an office. He focused on the VP of Finance first, going through articles, his social media pages, anything he could find. Then focused on the other recent homicide victims. It was three o’clock in the morning before he rested his head on a pillow and drifted off.
****
“You look like hell, Lambert.” He glanced up from his desk to see Wright crossing the worn carpet—probably the original from when the barracks opened. “Like someone who was caught in an explosion forty-eight hours ago, and then decides to do overtime at”—she made a show of checking her watch—“six in the morning.” She leaned her hip against the desk, wearing dress pants and a collared shirt even though she wasn’t on duty. Her short sandy hair was pulled back into a spiky ponytail, and she looked at him with her brows raised.
“Six thirty,” he grumbled and took a sip of the bitter black coffee sitting on his desk.
She dismissed his statement with a wave of her hand. “What’s going on?”
“I stayed up late researching, wanted to get in here to—”
She let out an impatient huff. “No. Not the case. You. We’ve worked alongside each other since we graduated from the academy. You had my back when the other guys gave me shit and told me to go back to princess camp. I can tell something’s up.”
“It’s complicated.” He looked off to the side, not wanting to meet her eyes. Wright was a few years younger than him, and she’d told him before that she looked up to him. He’d let her down.
“Well, you have twenty minutes until the loudmouths on first shift come in, so spill.” Wright glanced around. They were the only two people in the office area. “It’s Sasha Frost,” she said with a decisive nod. There was no way to deny it. Wright was a friend and she was a sealed vault when it came to secrets. He should’ve known better than to assume she’d be disgusted by his immoral actions. She never judged or joined in departmental gossip. Would never say something about someone that she wouldn’t say to their face.
