Page 19 of Blade’s Edge (L.A.S.T. Defense #1)
Jasper
It’s a three-hour drive, and Emi doesn’t stir once. Not even when I stop the car to unlock the security gate.
The cabins at Lake Livingston aren’t what most folks expect. No one comes up here to “get away from it all” anymore. Most places have high-speed internet and satellite television. There’s a gourmet grocery store five miles back, and a Michelin-starred restaurant twenty minutes away.
Fifty years ago, Grandpappy Blade built this place himself. Back then, the cabin had two rooms and an outhouse. Now? More than once I’ve thought about moving up here permanently. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than my apartment.
I let Emi sleep until I’ve unlocked the front door and disarmed the security system.
A soft moan escapes her lips as I slide an arm under her thighs. “Shh, sweetheart. We’re here. Don’t worry.”
“What…time is it?” she slurs.
“A little after 2:00 a.m. I’ll have you in bed in a hot minute.” I nudge the SUV’s door closed with my elbow and carry Emi inside.
She settles her head against my shoulder with a little sigh. “We’re safe here?”
“As safe as we can be. We’re three hours from Austin and no one knows about this place but me and AJ. Well, and our mama, but she’s on a Caribbean cruise for the next week.” Emi shivers as I set her down on the bed. “Get under the covers. I’ll have the heat goin’ in a minute or two.”
“And…then you’ll come back. Right?” She peers up at me, her eyes bloodshot, the bags underneath them twice the size they were when we left Austin.
Fuck me. Less than four hours ago, we were on a date. I thought we’d be naked in her bed right now. But she’s too vulnerable. Too scared. In too much pain for me to do anything but sleep on the couch tonight.
“I’ll come check on you. But after that, I’ll be in the living room.” I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. “You need to rest.”
“I’ll sleep—if you’re with me.” She grabs my hands, twining our fingers. “I don’t want to be alone, Jasper. And we had this same fight yesterday. Turn on the heat, then come to bed.”
My dick strains against my zipper. This woman is perfect. Strong. Confident. Yet still vulnerable. And sexy as fuck wrapped in my leather jacket. I’d like to see her in that—and nothing else.
“I need to lock up and get our bags. There’s a security fence all around the property, along with motion lights, cameras, and alarms. No one’s gettin’ in here without us knowin’ about it.”
The worry pinching her features fades slightly, and she sinks against the pillows. “Okay. If you’re sure we’re safe…”
“I am. And I’ll be back in two shakes.” I slide my fingers into her hair, tip her head back, and claim her lips. Her cool hand cups my neck, holding me close long enough to sweep her tongue against mine.
“I’ll be counting.”
Walking away from her is actively painful. By the time I bring in our bags, turn on the heat, and arm the security system, my own exhaustion has caught up with me. Along with the agony setting fire to my hip. Hell, my whole damn leg feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.
Emi’s shoes peek out from under the bed, and in the bathroom, one of the new toothbrushes from the cabinet is unwrapped.
Good. She made herself at home. I tear the plastic off a second brush and try to scrub the disgusting gas station coffee off my tongue. I hated leaving her for even a minute, but it was either that or drive us into a ditch outside of College Station.
Just one more thing to do. The safe in the closet holds enough firepower to defend against a small army. I find a SIG P320, snap the loaded magazine into place, and set it on the nightstand. The revolver from my ankle holster slides between the mattress and the headboard.
This cabin might have every modern convenience, but I won’t take any chances with Emi’s life. Not after tonight. Because in only a week, she’s gone from a complete stranger to someone I’m falling for.
This shouldn’t happen. Love at first sight—or almost first sight—is romance novel-type shit. Sure, AJ and Grace found it. But they lived a charmed life until Grace disappeared.
I never believed in true love. But now? I might need to change my tune. If the past couple of years have taught me and AJ anything, it’s that life is too fucking short to wait around when you know what you want.
Emi doesn’t stir when I shed my jeans and button-down shirt. Sleeping next to her in just my boxer briefs again? This could end…badly. Because I’m going to pull her against me and hold her all night long.
AJ and I each keep a couple of changes of clothes in the closet and dresser. I find a pair of checkered flannel pajama pants and tug them on. These will have to do. For now.
Emi sighs and snuggles up to me as soon as I lie down. She’s wearing a tank top and panties—but nothing else—and her soft curves feel so right against me. When we’re safe again, I’m askin’ Emmylou Marsh out on a second date. I hope to all that’s holy in this world, she says yes.
A little after nine, Emi shuffles out into the cabin’s main room, yawning the whole way. She’s back in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Damn. I’m almost disappointed.
“There’s coffee?” she asks.
“Instant. But it’ll do.” I set my mug down and start the electric kettle. Emi joins me, leaning her hip against the counter to stare out at the glassy water.
“It’s so quiet here. I bet it’s hopping over the summer.”
I give her coffee a stir, then press the cup into her hands. “My grandfather got lucky when he bought this place. The lot is twice as big as most of the others. This late in the season, the vacation rentals drop off, and the only folks left are the retirees who live up here full time.”
Emi’s eyelids flutter at the first sip of coffee. “I don’t think I’ve slept that hard in ages.”
Sliding my arm around her back, I pull her close and press a kiss to her forehead. “You needed it. Still do, I reckon.”
She sighs against me. “I’m fine, Jasper. Just sore. And hungry. Is there anything to eat?”
Reluctantly, I release her and move to the cabinet next to the stove. “Oatmeal. We keep the freezer stocked, but I didn’t think to take out any bacon last night.”
After I refill the kettle, I grab the tin of oatmeal and a couple of bowls. “Sit down, sweetheart. AJ got us burner phones, so you can call your news director—or anyone else you need—after you eat.”
She chews on her lip for a moment, then shuffles over to the table and pulls out one of the chairs.
“I’m worried about Kyle. My cameraman,” she clarifies.
“He wasn’t mentioned in any of the death threats, but he was worried enough to transfer to Midday.
I’m sure Nelson has updated his security detail, but I should still check on him. ”
“Tell me about the death threats. And why you weren’t worried about them before the other night.” It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been off the job. I fall back into the role easily. I miss it. Though I’d give anything not to need these skills right now.
Emi takes another sip of coffee, then sighs.
“I used to work for the biggest news station in Los Angeles, Jasper. Death threats were a rite of passage. Once you got your first, you were a legit reporter. I was covering national news back then. Government corruption, politics, serial killers. Austin local news is small potatoes.”
“What did the threats say? Do you remember?” Despite how little sleep I got last night, I’m wide awake now. And then it hits me. I went to bed stone cold sober for the second night in a row. My leg aches like a sombitch, but it’s manageable.
I’ve been a borderline alcoholic for months now. I never blacked out. Never craved a beer. But I used it to dull the pain. Every damn day. Until Emi needed me.
“Jasper? Are you even listening?” Emi asks, curling her fingers around my wrist. The contact sends a spark of electricity racing up my arm.
“Shit. Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize I was so hungry. Go on.” I mix up two bowls of oatmeal, then carry them back to the table. She follows, but eyes me suspiciously. “Promise,” I say after I wash my first bite of nearly flavorless paste down with another swig of coffee. “That’s all it was.”
From her expression, she’s not convinced, but she runs a hand through her hair and turns her gaze to the window.
“The first one was almost comical. ‘Leave Eugene Fowler alone.’” She tries for a chuckle, but her shoulders are hiked up close to her ears.
“Like we were bullying him in the school yard or something. We got dozens like that the first day, but only one of them from an anonymous email account with no name attached to it.”
She scrapes up a bit of her own oatmeal, stares at it for a beat, then sets the spoon down. “The network’s social media accounts were being hammered nonstop.”
“The story ran for three nights?” I ask.
With a nod, Emi stirs her oatmeal. She still hasn’t taken a bite.
“Everything went sideways when the second segment aired. I found evidence of Fowler’s corruption back in Chicago.
One of the construction workers who worked on the Filagree Tower Hotel sent me a picture of Fowler meeting with a member of the Ricci crime family.
The guy claimed more than half of the crew on that project was non-union, and I was able to confirm that the Texas Laborers union had only sent twenty of their members to the Empress job, but there are at least fifty people on the payroll.
The threats started getting a lot more…explicit after that.
Calling me a whore, saying they were going to come down to the station and show me how a woman was supposed to act… ”
Anger tightens a vise grip around my heart. I clench my fists and shove them under the table before I say—or do—something I’ll regret. Like tell Emi there’s no way she’s ever goin’ on the air again. I know that’s not the right answer. But it’s the only one I’ve got at the moment.