Retribution Boxed Set (Books One and Two) (28 page)

“I didn’t realize you’d be here to eat.” She
sounded repentant, but she’d also thrown a shield between them.

“It’s not a biggie.” He hated that he was having
such a hard time communicating with her. She could laugh with Christian, but
held him at a cold distance.

She stood. “I need to make a phone call.”

The thought made him nervous. “Don’t tell anyone
where you are.”

“I’m not irresponsible, detective. But I do need
to let my old job know I won’t be coming back any time soon. I’ll tell them I
had an emergency that took me out of town, okay?”

He nodded. Damn. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d
done to incur her wrath, but he was definitely incurring it.

He watched her as she headed out of the room, her
hips swaying in her tight jeans. He sighed and claimed her seat.

“Geez, dude. What did you do to piss her off? Christian
left his chair and took their dishes to the sink.

“I don’t know. She wanted information about our
group last night, and I was a little cryptic, but I didn’t think I pissed her
off that bad.”

He chuckled. “You might want to make friends with
her. She’s a heck of a cook.”

“I’m trying.” He sure as hell didn’t want to be
her enemy. Sam regarded his friend through a jealous haze. “You, however, seem
to be hitting it off.”

“She’s nice.”

“Yeah. Nice looking, too.” He tossed the thinly
veiled hint at his friend.

“Listen, man. It’s not my fault she likes me
better than you.”

“You’re admitting it?”

“I’m not admitting anything.” Christian narrowed
his gaze. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a jealous bitch.”

God. He was. “I don’t know.” He leaned forward on
the counter. “I feel protective of her. I can’t explain it.”

“We all do. We all want what’s best for the
innocent. You can’t let her get to you.”

“You’re right. I need to remember she’s just a
job.” He knew from his years in the police force that an officer who became
emotionally involved in his cases was subject to losing his edge. If it
happened often, loss of the officer’s sanity became an issue.

He grabbed his keys off the counter, his
irritation concealed. “Since you ate all the good food and since Janie seems to
be doing well, I’ll grab something on the way back to the precinct.”

Christian nodded. “Don’t forget groceries on your
way home. If she’s willing to cook for
me
, I don’t want to miss out on
the opportunity.”

Sam didn’t fail to notice his emphasis on the word
“me”, but he’d be damned if he’d let Christian goad him again.

Janie stayed in her bedroom until long after she
heard Sam leave. She hadn’t meant to come across as rude. Truly, she was
grateful for what he’d done for her. But the intensity of her attraction to him
had caught her off guard, and it was one thing she couldn’t deal with at the
moment.

While she’d waited, she’d called her former job
and then the restaurant in San Antonio, only to be told they were still
reviewing applications and would get back to her later. She plopped onto her
bed and turned on the TV, mechanically flipping through the channels. Even the
cooking channel didn’t interest her today.

She stood and looked out her window, sunlight
cascading through the trees onto the lawn. It would be a beautiful day to be outside.
Unfortunately, she was hesitant to leave the house. She needed to find
something though. Solitude and lethargy were her enemies. She needed to be
busy, or her fearful thoughts would drive her crazy.

What she needed was to cook. Cooking calmed her.

She wandered into the kitchen finding it and the
attached living room deserted. She didn’t know why, but she felt like she
needed to ask permission to use the kitchen. Must be leftover from the days she’d
had to ask her mother before she could heat up a can of soup.

The sounds of rock music wafted up from the
basement, and she headed down the stairs in search of Christian. She found him
in a brightly lit room with a weight bench, treadmill, and a punching bag. He
was currently engaged in a deathly battle with the sandbag. She watched
silently from the doorway as he punched, twisted and gave the heavy bag a swift
kick, sending his foe swinging.

He must have sensed her for his gaze suddenly
shifted to hers and she startled, realizing she’d been gawking. “Sorry. I
didn’t mean to intrude.”

Christian grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and
wiped his brow. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She glanced from him to the bag and back
again, a new thought taking seed. “Is there any way I could train with you? She’d
started taking self-defense classes, but hadn’t had enough time to perfect any
skills before Paul had attacked her. If she’d had, she wouldn’t have needed a
knife.

“You want to learn how to fight? Sure. I can
help.” He glanced pointedly at her clothes. “You’re going to want something you
can move in easier, though, and I don’t know if you should be exercising with
that gash on your head.”

She touched her hand to the bandage above her
brow. “It’s better than yesterday.” And she wasn’t about to let it stop her
from getting stronger. “I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want to miss this opportunity.
“I’m going to go change.”

She hurried to her bedroom and donned her yoga
pants and sports bra. Running had been her escape in the past, but now she was
limited to the inside of a house until she left town. Punching a bag would
teach her how to fight along with the added benefit of relieving her stress.

She didn’t miss the look of appreciation when she
rejoined Christian, but she chose to ignore it. Right now, she wasn’t interested
in a man. She was purely there to kick some ass.

For the next hour, he showed Janie how to throw a
punch and how to block one. He let her punch on the bag for a while as he
guided her technique.

“Ready to learn how to spar?”

“Sure.” She wiped sweat from her brow. “Anything
that helps me get stronger is a good thing.”

“Good attitude. I know Sam has boxing gloves here
somewhere.” He rummaged through the closet in the room. “Found ‘em. We can
practice the basic moves. Just don’t clock me in the head, okay? He handed a
pair to her, and she stuffed her hands inside.

“Okay.” She laughed and held up her hands. “Are
these the same moves I’d make if someone attacked me?”

“They’ll strengthen your upper body and stamina,
and sharpen your reflexive abilities.”

Good enough for her.

They practiced in slow motion until she got the
hang of things. Then he started going faster. She did her best to keep up, but
his skills were far beyond hers. She got in a few good shots, but it mostly
wore her out.

“You’re killing me,” she said with a frustrated
laugh.

“I know.” He smiled. “Tell you what, I’ll only
block. That will give you some good chances to hit.”

“Deal.” She started punching, and true to his
word, he didn’t fight back. She caught him once on the chin, and he stepped back.
She pressed on until she had him up against a wall.

She laughed though her heart thundered in her
chest. “You let me do that.”

“Maybe.” He smiled. He opened his mouth to say
something else and stopped, his gaze jumping to something behind her. “Sam.”

“What are you doing? Sam didn’t sound
particularly happy.

Janie turned so she could see him. He didn’t look
at her, but stared at Christian as though trying to convey an unspoken message.

“She wanted to learn how to fight.” Christian slipped
from her grasp and went to grab a towel.

Her gaze connected with Sam’s as a trickle of
sweat ran down her neck and into the valley between her breasts. He glanced
down as though he followed the tracks, and her temperature increased twenty
degrees. As much as she hated the chemistry between them, there wasn’t much she
could do at the moment.

Except leave.

She headed toward him and the doorway. “Excuse me.
I’m going to shower.” She pushed past him without waiting for him to move. Her
elbow brushed his jacket, her skin burning from the contact.

She could feel his gaze on her as she hurried
away.

At some point, she’d have to learn to handle the
awkwardness with Sam if she was going to share a house with him for the next
few days. But not right now.

Back in her room, she checked her phone before
climbing into the shower, dismayed to find she hadn’t received a callback from
the restaurant.

The waiting was killing her. She wanted to forget
the charges against Paul and get the hell out of there. Maybe she should head
to San Antonio regardless. In a city that size, she could certainly find some
kind of a job until a better one came along.

*        *        *

Paul sipped water from the hospital cup, trying
to ignore the burning pain in his chest. Normally, he was all for a good dose
of drugs, especially ones administered directly into his bloodstream, but he
needed his wits right now.

Janie had betrayed him.

That hurt almost as much as the fucking hole in
his chest. He’d lucked out that her knife hadn’t killed him. A couple of broken
ribs and a punctured lung were bad enough, but he’d survived.

Unfortunately, the longer he stayed in that
hospital bed, the more likely she’d turn traitor and start spilling to the cops.
The tense hours of waiting and wondering when or if the cops would arrive ate
at him. He was nearly certain she hadn’t ratted him out yet, or they’d be
slapping his ass with some charges besides the assault ones they’d already laid
on him.

Wasn’t that a joke? He was the one in the fucking
hospital, and yet the cops busted his balls. She was the lethal bitch with the
knife. He should be suing her ass instead.

He needed to get out and find her. A low growl
rumbled from his throat as he slammed his head back into his pillow in
frustration.

Never in a million years would he have believed
his little Janie would have stabbed him. He’d only been messing with her with
the shower thing. Although he couldn’t stand the thought of that pig’s hands on
his woman. But he wouldn’t have burned her. He loved her. She just needed to
understand her place. That was all.

His hospital door creaked open, and a
greasy-haired kid with bangs hanging limp in his face peeked in. Paul nodded
for him to enter.

“Hey man.” Brent looked back into the hall as
though checking for threats before he fully entered and shut the door behind
him. “How you doing?”

“Fucking great. How does it look like I’m doing? If
the kid hadn’t helped him out on numerous occasions, providing him with
valuable information besides being a regular customer, he would have told the
punk to hit the road. He didn’t need shit like him hanging around.

The kid’s gaze jumped from his I.V. to his face,
and it was obvious he was in the early stages of withdrawal. If they’d have
been in Paul’s apartment, he’d have taken pity and given the kid a hit.

“I gotta say, you’ve looked better.”

“Yeah,” Paul answered in a no-shit tone of voice.
“Fucking bitch tried to kill me.”

Brent shoved his hands in his pockets and then
removed them, rocking on his feet. “I saw her at your place after they took you
away. She was grabbing her stuff.”

“Bitch better run.” When he found her, she had a
hell of a price to pay. She knew too much information and could no longer be
trusted. She might not have told the police anything yet, but it was only a
matter of time. “And she better not have taken anything that’s mine.”

“I think she just took clothes.” He paused as
though judging whether or not to impart his next words. “She had a cop with her.
He went all ape-shit crazy when I showed up, pulling a gun on me.”

A cop? “What did he look like?”

Brent glanced to the sides as though someone
might have snuck up behind him. “I’ve seen him before. He was in on that bust
against Tony. Blond-haired dude. Thinks he’s God’s gift to the police.”

Damn it. It had to be that fucker Holden. “Did
they search the place? Did they find anything? He didn’t keep a ton of stuff at
his house. He wasn’t
that
dumb. But he did have his hidden reserves. Hopefully,
the couple of joints he’d planted as a decoy nearby would make the cops think
that’s all there was. Jesus. He didn’t need this kind of stress.

“I don’t think so. Like I said, it looked like
they were just getting her stuff. A couple of suitcases. One of those teapot
things. That’s all.”

So, Holden was after his woman. Other than her
gorgeous body, what use would he have for her except to extract information
about him? He had to find her and now. “I want you to get a hold of Lou for me.
Have him
call
me. I don’t want him to show up here in case anyone is
watching me.”

Brent shot up straight from his slump at those
words. “Are they watching?”

What an idiot. “No. I’m pretty sure they can’t
see you standing here in my room. Is there a detective outside? Maybe.”

“Fuck.” His reply slid out in a long whisper. “I
was going to hit you up for some…”

“Jesus.” Paul leveled an incredulous look at the
kid. “You think I have that shit here?”

“I just…” He shrugged and gave a little twitch.

“God. Just go.” If the cops said one word to
Brent, he’d confess everything. It seemed everyone was becoming a liability. “Ask
Lou when you talk to him. Jesus.” Paul turned away, hoping the kid would leave
before he had to kill him right then and there.

When the door shut behind him, Paul picked up his
phone and dialed his attorney. He couldn’t sit there in bed and not do
anything.

*        *        *

Several days passed with pretty much the same
routine. Sam would come home from work to find Janie enjoying Christian’s
company. She’d take one look at Sam and retreat to her bedroom with any number
of excuses. She needed a shower. She wanted to read. She was tired and was
going to bed early. Christian would head to his bar, and Sam would spend the
rest of the night alone. Sometimes, she’d come out and grab a snack, but she
never stayed.

There had been no news regarding Paul until today,
no specific reason to talk to Janie, so he’d left her alone, figuring she
needed some time to sort things out.

But three nights was ridiculous, and her
avoidance was starting to feel personal.

Tonight, he waited until nearly seven before he
conceded Janie wasn’t coming out for dinner, and she certainly wasn’t going to
cook for him. He wasn’t sure what the hell he’d done to make her so angry or
annoyed or whatever she was, but for some reason, she didn’t want anything to
do with him. But enough was enough. They weren’t enemies. Hell, he’d saved her
ass. She could at least talk to him.

He threw together some grilled cheese sandwiches
and tomato soup before he went looking for her.

He knocked on her door. When she answered, he
shoved the tray of food at her, forcing her to take it or drop it.

“When you’ve decided you’re grown up enough to
talk about whatever’s bugging you, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

The chair made a grating sound as he moved it
away from the table and fell into it alone. He dunked a corner of his sandwich
into the soup and had it halfway to his mouth when she walked into the kitchen,
tray in hand. She eyed him with an unreadable gaze, and he half expected her to
shove the food at him and walk away.

He hadn’t been nice, and maybe he deserved it. But
she hadn’t been nice, either.

She set the tray on the table near him and began
unloading her dinner. When she finished, she sat in the chair next to him.

“I’m sorry.” She stared at her soup bowl for a
moment and then met his gaze. Anxiety flickered in her beautiful blue eyes, but
she didn’t glance away.

This was what he’d hoped for, but he hadn’t
expected it would really work. A smile built inside him, but he didn’t let it
show. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I do. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I’ve
treated you badly.” She picked up her spoon and stirred her soup before lifting
it to her lips. “It’s good.”

He chuckled, grateful the tension between them
had disappeared. “It’s from a can.”

She smiled, her expression brightening his world,
making him warm from the inside out. “It’s still good. Thank you. I haven’t had
someone cook for me in a long time.”

“No problem.” He dunked his sandwich again and
took a bite. He hated to ruin their suddenly good evening, but they needed to
talk. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”