Blade’s Edge, page 8
part #1 of L.A.S.T. Defense Series
I offer him a wobbly smile. “You can’t sleep on the floor all night.”
“If you had a couch, I wouldn’t be down here.”
“I live alone. What do I need a couch for? Besides, any couch big enough for you to sleep on wouldn’t fit in this apartment.” My thoughts are fracturing in real time, and if I don’t lie down again soon, I’m probably going to fall over. “Come on. My bed is big enough for both of us.”
“I’m fine out here,” he says, but the longing in his voice is hard to miss. “I won’t do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable.”
“What makes me uncomfortable is thinking of you out here on the floor.” I try to get up, but my body decides now is a good time for me to lose all sense of equilibrium. I pitch forward, landing sprawled across a set of powerful legs with my ass in the air.
Well, this is a great look.
“Emi, fucking hell. I’m taking you back to the hospital.” Jasper pulls me into his arms, brushing my hair away from my face. The concern in his blue eyes is something I should have been prepared for. But the intensity of it sends a ball of heat churning in my belly.
“No.” The heat turns to ice in a heartbeat. There’s no way I’d survive a whole night—even half of one—in the hospital. “I have a headache. I’m sore. But I’m fine. If you care about me getting any rest at all, you’ll…you’ll find my phone so I can plug it in, then come sleep in my room.”
He must understand just how not on board I am with any talk about going back to the hospital, because he sighs. “Don’t suppose I’d get very far anyway. Benny would ask how you’re doin’, you wouldn’t give him the code word, and he’d have my ass arrested. That sound about right?”
I almost laugh again, but I remember how well that worked out for me the last time, so I try for a sweet smile instead. “You were a highly decorated Ranger, Jasper. You wouldn’t spend more than a few hours in lockup.”
“Fuck me.” He shifts me gently off his lap and onto one of the chairs. “I’d never hear the end of it either.”
“Then get up. I’m exhausted, and I won’t sleep knowing you’re out here on the floor.” In truth, I’ll pass out the second I close my eyes, but Jasper doesn’t need to know that. “Oh, and I need my phone or it’ll be dead by morning. Where did you put my purse?”
Jasper lumbers to his feet with a groan. Lines of pain tighten around his lips. He limps over to my small table, retrieves my bag, and sets it next to me. “How bad’s the headache? Scale of one to ten?”
“Three.” That’s a bald-faced lie, but with my head bent rummaging through my purse, hopefully he won’t notice my flushed cheeks. Five or six would be closer to the truth. My fingers close around my phone, and I check the screen, but it’s too blurry for me to see much of anything. Shit. That’s probably not a good sign.
“Emi, look at me.” The command in his tone is impossible to ignore. His eyes are bloodshot, and there’s a small cut over his left brow. “Follow my finger.”
I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t afraid I’d pitch over from the motion. So I do what he asks. After I’ve recited the days of the week—backwards—told him what I ordered when we met at the sports bar, and confirmed my ears weren’t ringing, he holds out his hand.
“Back to bed with you.” I should refuse his help, but tucked against his side, I feel safe in a way I haven’t since the Fowler story first hit the air. When he tries to tuck me in, though, I point to the other side of the bed.
“You’re not the only one whose mama raised them to be hospitable. I don’t have anything big enough to fit you, but as long as you’re not going commando, you don’t need to sleep in your jeans or t-shirt. We’re both adults.”
I sink back against the pillows and stifle a yawn. Jasper sheds his jeans and t-shirt. Damn. In only a pair of black boxer briefs, he’s sexy as hell. Too bad I’m so tired I could cry.
Once he’s under the covers, I let myself relax. But despite how exhausted I am, sleep doesn’t steal me away. I try a couple different positions, but each one aggravates one bruise or another.
“Emi, if you don’t stop wrigglin’, I’m gonna have a problem I can’t do nothin’ about,” Jasper manages when my ass brushes his hip.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize how banged up I was.” Curling on my side facing him, I shove a hand under my pillow. “Or how big you were, apparently.”
He chuckles. “I’ll go back out to the living room—”
“No. Stay.” I snag his arm, his skin so warm against my fingers. “Please.”
“On one condition.” He turns so he can study me in the semi-darkness. “You tell me why you hate hospitals so much that you’d check out against medical advice.”
Of course, he’d ask me about the one thing I don’t share with anybody. I could deflect. I should tell him I’m tired and we’ll talk in the morning. But he could have been seriously hurt tonight because of me. I won’t lie to him again.
“When I was seventeen, I started feeling…weird. Nauseous and exhausted all the time. My periods were really irregular, and my boyfriend and I had only done it once, so I didn’t even think…” He stiffens, and I worry this is a very bad idea. But I’m committed now. “I was a little over three months along when I started bleeding.”
Jasper doesn’t say a word, thank God, but he does cover my hand with his.
“I didn’t tell anyone for two days. But by then, I was in so much pain, I couldn’t hide it anymore. My mother took me to the doctor. He was old school. You know the type—small town, family values…” A bone-weary sigh parts my lips. “He said I needed to let nature take its course.” My voice wobbles. I twine my fingers with Jasper’s and hold on tight. “I stayed home from school the next day. I don’t remember much, but my mom found me unconscious around four. Uterine hemorrhage. Sepsis. They had to…” Tears well in my eyes, trailing across my nose and down my temple. “I spent a week hooked up to so many machines, I could barely move. And seventeen is way too young for a hysterectomy.”
“Fuck, sweetheart.” Jasper scoots closer, and I can’t help it. I let him put his arms around me and rest my head on his chest. “What do you need? Right now.”
“Just…hold me,” I whisper, suddenly so tired, I can barely get the words out.
“Yes, ma’am.” He shifts slightly, and one hand strokes gently up and down my back. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Maybe it’s the warmth of his touch, or sharing my deepest secret, but the tension drains from my body by degrees. “That’s why I couldn’t stay in the hospital.” The words slip over my tongue before I can stop them.
My throat burns with unshed tears, the way it always does when I think about what could’ve been. It’s not that I have a strong desire to have kids, but knowing the choice was taken from me…that was a violation. A crime. A tragedy.
For a long moment, Jasper is still, and I wonder if I’ve said too much. Or maybe he thinks I’m less now that he knows the truth. Less of a woman. Less of a person. Not worth his time.
Stop it.
I make a move to wriggle free, but he tightens his grip. “I’m so fucking sorry, Emi.”
The emotion in his tone tells me everything he can’t say. Because there are no words. Not for this.
My eyes, flutter shut, and a tear splashes my cheek, following the invisible path etched onto my skin from years of mourning this pain. “Me too.”
Chapter Ten
Jasper
The first rays of the morning sun hit my face. Fuck. Emi is wrapped in my arms with her head tucked under my chin. She barely stirred all night, but I couldn’t sleep a wink. Not with her warm, soft body pressed up against me.
I laid awake for hours watching her. She was too damn young to go through something like that. Too damn innocent.
And so fucking brave to share her pain with me.
If I don’t move—and soon—she’ll wake up with my dick pressed up against her ass, and I’ll catch hell for it. I’ve seen several sides of Emmylou Marsh the past week. Determined. Polished. Excited. Even a little scared. But angry? I’m not sure I’d survive angry.
Carefully, I ease her onto her back. The bruise over her left eye looks ten times worse this morning. Dammit. I should have insisted she put some ice on it last night. Half a dozen small scratches mar her cheeks and forehead. If she’d been any closer to the car, she could have been seriously hurt. Or worse.
Tugging on my Wranglers and t-shirt, I shuffle out into Emi’s living room. My phone battery is down to ten percent, but that should be enough to get some information out of my brother.
Jasper: Car bomb went off at the Ninth and Molder Stop-N-Shop last night at 9:17 p.m. I need you to look into the case. I think someone tried to kill Emmylou Marsh.
AJ better not blow me off. I know he’s going through an ocean of shit, but he’s still a goddamned Ranger.
I stare at Emi’s fancy coffee machine for five full minutes. There are so many buttons, I’m afraid I’ll somehow launch a nuke if I’m not careful. But fuck, I need caffeine.
My phone buzzes on the counter before I find a mug.
AJ: The case is with Austin PD. Give me one good reason why I should call in a chit for this.
Jasper: Because I asked you to, asshole. And because I doubt Officer Devlin’s been out of the academy more than a month.
AJ: Give me an hour. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.
That makes two of us. I’ve gotta figure out how this damn machine works. It’s either that or sneak out before Emi wakes up. But if I did that, I couldn’t lock her door. Even with Benny downstairs—if he’s still on shift—I can’t take that chance.
Five tries—and one mess of spilled coffee later—I have a cup. The jolt fuels me enough, I find a travel mug in Emi’s cabinet and fumble my way through making what I think is an almond milk cappuccino.
Careful not to spill either cup, I shuffle down the hall and back into her bedroom. She’s still asleep. Easing my hip onto the edge of the mattress, I brush her hair away from her face. “Emi? Sweetheart I need you to wake up for me.”
She groans, her eyes opening to slits. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight. Do you know where you are?”
That riles her enough to glare at me. “Of course I know where I am. I told you last night—err, this morning—I was fine.” Her nose wrinkles, and suddenly, she’s not angry anymore. “You made coffee.”
As if she’s only now seeing the mug in my hand, she sits up and reaches for it.
“This one’s mine,” I say with a chuckle and pass her the travel mug. “But I made you a cappuccino. I think.“
Her eyelids flutter with her first sip. “God, I would not make it in this world without coffee.”
“Is it okay?” I ask. “Your machine is…somethin’.”
Emi snorts, and the sound is so light, feminine, and real, my heart jumps in my chest.
“Best money I’ve ever spent,” she says and takes another sip from the travel mug. Then her eyes narrow. “It’s all push button. Did you have trouble with it?”
“Uh…” Fire licks up the back of my neck. “No. Not…much.”
“Jasper!” She laughs but winces a moment later. “Shit. That hurts.”
Instantly on alert, I take the mug from her and set it on the nightstand. “Tell me.”
“Stand down, Ranger. I’m sore. Everywhere. But I’ll be okay.” She stares pointedly at me—at where I’m sitting on the edge of her bed. “I need my phone. Nelson is probably having a coronary. I should have texted him when we got here last night. Mind moving so I can get it off the dresser?”
“You stay right there. I’ll get it for you.”
Emi bristles at the command in my tone but then huffs and picks up the travel mug again. “Fine. But I’m not an invalid, Jasper. You took care of me last night and made me coffee this morning. I can handle things from here.”
“We’ll see about that,” I mutter once I’ve handed her the phone. “I texted AJ a bit ago. I’m waitin’ to see what he finds out from Austin PD. Until I can guarantee your safety, I ain’t leaving.”
With her phone in her hand, Emi snaps her gaze to mine. “Oh, hell no. I’m an adult. I can get myself to Channel 5. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but it’s time for you to go.”
Emi throws back the blanket, gets to her feet, and sways. She only makes it two steps in my direction before one of her knees buckles. I haul her against me, and she melts into my embrace.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until we know there’s no one after you. And definitely not with you falling over like that.” I smooth a hand along her shoulder, and let it come to rest at the small of her back. She’s so fucking beautiful, even with her hair mussed from sleep and that damn purple bruise on her forehead.
Emi tips her head back to meet my gaze. The need in her eyes sends all the blood shooting straight to my dick. These Wranglers are unbearably tight, and if she looks down, she’ll see how much I want her.
“Jasper,” she whispers. “I’m…”
I take a chance and press my lips to hers. She doesn’t protest. A little moan vibrates in her chest. If she keeps that up, I’ll come in my pants like a fucking teenager.
Stroking my tongue along the seam of her mouth, I beg her to open for me, and she does. Oh, God. She tastes of coffee, smells like jasmine, and feels so very right in my arms.
My phone vibrates in my front pocket, and the sensation forces us apart. I should ignore it. But…what if it’s AJ?
Emi’s cheeks turn a bright shade of crimson, and she wriggles out of my embrace. “I…need to shower. And charge my phone. And…um…brush my teeth.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. Shit. I didn’t even think about morning breath. My phone buzzes again. “I’ll be out in the living room. If you feel dizzy at all, you call for me. No tryin’ to manage on your own, you hear?”
After a huff, she nods. “Fine. But once you talk to your brother, you need to go home.”
I shut her bedroom door with a quiet click and mutter under my breath, “We’ll see about that.”
Emi
I lean my back against the door. My cheeks are on fire. Jasper is a fantastic kisser. And he’s in my living room. With a hard-on. I couldn’t ignore the bulge in his jeans as he held me. And if it weren’t for his over-the-top protectiveness, I probably wouldn’t have made it home from the hospital.
I could march right out into the living room and demand he kiss me again. I would, if I weren’t on the biggest story of my career. Or if I hadn’t made a fool of myself at 2:00 a.m. telling him about the time I almost died. My hand flutters over my stomach, skimming the scar I’ll bear for the rest of my life. I made my peace with what happened. Having kids was never in my plan—even as a teenager. But Jasper probably wants them.
Stop it. He kissed you, remember? After you told him everything. And he’s still here.
I don’t know what this is between us—other than a kiss that set me on fire and his obsession with keeping me safe—but I can’t dwell on it now. In my addled state last night, I set my phone next to the charging pad rather than on it, so the damn thing is deader than dead. After I make sure it’s charging, I sneak into the bathroom.
At least in here, I can lock the door and engage in the time-honored tradition of overthinking everything in the shower. Fowler, my burned-out car, Jasper, that kiss, my future…
The hot water feels like heaven cascading down my back. Until I try to run my fingers through my hair. I find at least three separate bruises on my head, and see stars every time I hit one of them untangling my unruly locks.
By the time I wrap myself in a towel and tiptoe back to my bedroom, though, I feel almost human again.
My usual wardrobe isn’t going to cut it today, so I opt for a pair of black yoga pants and my favorite purple sweater. My face, however, is a lost cause. There isn’t enough makeup in the whole country to hide the bruises, scrapes, and dark circles under my eyes.
My phone buzzes on the charger. Snagging it, I sink down onto my bed. Shit. Thirty-seven missed text messages and six calls—all with voicemail.
This can’t be good. Four of the calls are from Nelson. Those can wait. The other two…a Detective Mitchell from Austin PD.
Glancing over at the closed door, I wonder if I should get Jasper. He’ll want to listen in. Except…if there’s even a shred of evidence someone purposely blew up my car, he’ll never let me out of his sight again. And probably demand I go into hiding.
I press play on the first message.
“Ms. Marsh, this is Detective Nolan Mitchell with the Austin Police Department. You spoke to my colleague, Officer Devlin, last night after your car exploded. I’d like you to come into the station this morning so we can give you an update. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”
Well, if that isn’t the vaguest message in the history of vague messages. The second is no better. If anything, it’s worse.
I try calling the detective back, but it goes to voicemail, and Nelson texts me again before the greeting finishes playing. This day is getting on my last nerve and it’s only just started. If I don’t respond, I’m afraid he’ll send out a search party—or at least that bodyguard he keeps talking about.
Emi: I’ll be in a little after noon today. I’m fine. Just sore. Once I talk to the police, I’ll know if I need five minutes in the A block tonight.
Nelson: Five minutes? I thought your piece on Fowler was done for the week.
Emi: I thought so too. Until my car blew up. You wanted me to take the death threats seriously. Now, I might have to. I’ll see you after lunch.
I hope Nelson understands that’s my way of telling him to stop texting me every ten minutes. My head hurts too much to handle him when he’s this intense.
Because now, I need to deal with someone who makes Nelson look like the chillest man on the planet.
Jasper.
Chapter Eleven
