She crossed her arms. “If you or Brock wants to help Jason out, that would be the right thing to do.”
“So you’re counting on our good will?”
She shrugged. “I’m trying to follow Tayra’s dying wishes. She wanted you guys called—so I called. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some sleep, and you should be heading for your motel, if you want to make it tonight. ”
A cold chill crept down Slade’s back. He had the feeling that his too quick research on this area had been a little too cursory. “Hotel? Isn’t there a bed and breakfast in town?”
***
Bethany’s jaw slackened, but she kept her mouth from falling open. She wanted to let out a laugh, but she held that back, too. “Mrs. Sutter’s B&B is not a place you’d want to stay. She’s eighty-five, and won’t hire anyone to do her cleaning—even the raccoons won’t go into her place anymore. The nearest motel is fifty miles away, and if you didn’t make reservations, good luck. We’re in prime fishing season, and the motel’s next to a lake.”
His face tightened—annoyance, Bethany thought—but he lifted a shoulder as if it didn’t matter. Or, as if he could handle anything. “Won’t be the first time I’ve slept in my car. I’ll wish you a good night.” He turned and headed for the front door.
Let him go, she told herself. But she knew how cold it could get at night, even in the summer, and with the streetlights glaring overhead, and…and what would Jason say tomorrow when Slade appeared rumpled and looking like five miles of bad road?
“Slade?” she called out. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and half turned. She waved at the short hallway. “This place has a guest room. I’ve been sleeping in Tayra’s old room—it shares a bath with Jason’s room, so it’s easy enough to keep an eye on him at night.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts?” he asked, his mouth curving in that irritatingly attractive smile.
She ignored the question. “You can stay the night, but I’d like you gone tomorrow.” Turning, she headed for the bedroom that had been Tayra’s.
Was she nuts to let him stay? She knew next to nothing about him, but Slade Security did have a reputation as the go-to people for dealing with threats or potential threats. Jason had said he was a good guy. She smiled at herself, shook her head, and changed into a baggy Blazers T-shirt that she used for sleeping. She also checked the Colt she kept in the nightstand. Slade might be a good guy, but she still believed in back up plans.
She was also hoping he’d read the dang agreement and take it with him to get Brock to sign it.
***
Slade glanced into the guest room. It held a single bed, a dresser, and impersonal décor with feminine pastel colors and floral touches. He decided he’d try the couch. It wasn’t long enough for him, but not much was—he’d had his bed custom made. He also pulled up the Internet on his smart phone and made a few purchases. Bethany Simmons might want him here and gone again, but he wasn’t leaving until he unraveled a few mysteries.
Why had Tayra wanted him and Brock here as a dying wish? Why had she lied to her own sister about the boy? Was Bethany on the level about what she wanted? He really wanted to believe in her—but he’d known Tayra, and she hadn’t been someone to trust.
Restless, he toed off his shoes and took a quick tour of the house. A half bath stood off of the guest room. The room Bethany had gone into had a closed door, but Jason’s door stood ajar. He glanced in.
The moon had risen and the boy lay sleeping with one hand wrapped around a stuffed teddy bear. He frowned. He’d seen that bear before. Brock had brought it home from China for Tayra, carried it tucked inside his go-to bag on the extraction from a covert mission. He shook his head. She’d cared for Brock—had loved him maybe, in her own way. But she’d bailed on him. Why hadn’t she been able to stick it out?
He backed out of the room, headed back to the couch. He took off his shirt—no sense wrinkling it and he had on a wife-beater underneath. Shutting off the lights, he spent an hour handling email, catching up on reports, and making sure the business could deal with him being away for a few days. He started to yawn, so he shut down his phone and stretched out.
A soft sobbing woke him. He came awake in an instant and lay still—assess, then act. Those were the habits drilled into him. He wondered if it was Jason, but the sound was coming from the kitchen. He sat up and rose, keeping the movements slow enough to be silent. He crossed the floor, keeping his weight light and balanced on the balls of his feet.
Bethany stood in the kitchen, leaning on the kitchen sink as she had earlier, except now she had her hands over her face. Soft sobs leaked from her fingers. Dawn brightened the sky, spilling a soft light over her curls and giving her skin a pale glow. He could see a flash of bare thigh, a shoulder half revealed by the baggy, rust-colored T-shirt she wore.
He couldn’t stand the misery in her sobs.
He reached out and touched her shoulder.
She pulled back with a jerk. He ignored that and gathered her into his arms. She stiffened, but he held on and whispered, “It’s okay. Let it go. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 6
I’ve got you.
What a stupid thing to say, but Slade’s arm closed around her, and she couldn’t imagine anything better. She’d always suffered from nightmares—terrors really. Vivid dreams that left her sweaty and shivering with her heart pounding. Stress made them worse. It was one reason she’d chosen freelance work over the corporate world—she hadn’t been able to handle the stress of a high tech job.
But Slade felt like a rock—no, way better. He was solid and big and warm. He held her close, not so tightly that she couldn’t breathe, but supporting her, as if she’d never be able to fall. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her.
He smelled of something musky that reminded her of hot summer nights. She could hear his breathing—steady and even, and her cheek was pressed against his chest, where his heart thudded in a regular rhythm.
She knew the instant the hug changed from comfort to something else.