The part about the accident that almost cost me full use of my hand and fingers that no one really talked about was that it wasn’t actually anaccident. After investigating why the engine was nonoperational, the evidence pointed to someone sabotaging the helicopter engine, which was why I was working on it when it crushed my hand. That’s why Langston was giving me the no-nonsense glare—which was sexy as hell, if you asked me—and on board with Hudson calling his FBI contact.
Most people would think his getting this worked up meant he felt more about me than he let on, that we were more than friends who fucked when tensions were high and we both needed an outlet. One thing was certain, though: No one fucked with his family, blood or forged, or they would see a side of Langston that even I was slightly scared of.
That dangerous side turned me on in a disturbingly dark way.
What could I say? I had issues—a whole fuckload of them.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” Langston asked, resting his tattooed forearms on the table.
I met his stare, letting him see all the dark, dirty thoughts now swirling through my mind after that sexy display of “touch him and die.”
Arching one dark brow, he pointed at me. “Careful,” he commanded in that tone that had my dick twitching.
“This is the shit I’m talking about.” Hudson gestured between me and Langston. “Enough.”
“What shit?” I asked, breaking off Langston’s heated glare that had him grunting in annoyance.
“Nothing,” Langston cut in. “I vote he calls this FBI contact?—”
“And maybe his wife too,” Hudson added, staring at the far wall. “Rain’s a medical examiner and helps their profiling teamwith tough cases. She could review the autopsy results on the body we found off the trail and Jasper’s, plus the others. If anyone can find new clues, it’s her. And her husband, Jameson, the FBI profiler can help us get into the mind of the fucker terrorizing Anchor Bay.”
“Maybe even help with a motive and what the hell he’s doing with the missing women,” Brandon mused, rubbing at his jaw. He paused for a moment before dipping his chin in agreement. “Do it. If they need an invitation from the local police force, I’m sure Oliver will help with that.”
“Why the hell would you know that?” I asked, running my good hand over my shaved head. It still felt strange not having hair, but the upkeep was fucking amazing compared to how long and thick it was before.
Brandon’s lips curled in a slow smile. “Our Amy loves that showCriminal Mindsand mentioned the ‘invitation from the local police’ technicality during an episode once. I assume it came from some writer’s research and not something they randomly made up.”
“I’ll reach out to Jameson today, get his thoughts on all this and ask about Rain’s help,” Hudson said. “Until then, I’m waiting on the autopsy results from the woman Memphis, Baylee, and Liam found in the woods and will keep digging into Jasper’s life. Maybe he got too close to something since he’s the one who told us about Caroline’s missing journal and how she was attempting to connect the recent missing women cases to those from years ago. He could’ve found something that got him killed.”
With a clipped nod to Brandon, Hudson left, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving just me, Langston, and Brandon.
“Now.” Brandon shuffled some papers around on his desk and pulled a Post-it free. “On to why I needed to talk to you both.” Between two fingers, he held up the yellow note.“I received a call requesting transportation from Anchorage to here for a couple. They called instead of booking online because they didn’t want to alert the very person they’re coming here to surprise.”
Hell, that could be any of us—well, except me. No one outside of this community would come see me, much less as a surprise. The fact that I didn’t have any family used to weigh me down when I thought about it, but not anymore. Not since coming to Anchor Bay and finding a genuine family working with Uplift.
My thoughts crept down a dark path, memories of my childhood and years on the street doing whatever was necessary to survive, only to be ripped back to the present when Brandon mentioned who the mystery couple wanted to see.
“They grew up with Juno and want to surprise her in person with some kind of good news.”
Suspicion mixed with dread sat heavy in my gut as Langston and I shared a confused look. Clearing my throat, I twisted in my seat to face Brandon, not wanting to piss him off by questioning him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, boss, but that sounds shady as shit,” I stated bluntly. “Right?” I turned to Langston, hoping he’d back me up.
His nod was slow, as though unsure if agreeing with me conflicted with his feelings about Juno. “She hasn’t mentioned a single person—hell, any details about her life before coming here.” He adjusted his backward ball cap, his tell when he was agitated.
“And how would you know that?” Brandon asked, trying and failing to hide a smirk.
“Research,” Langston grumbled. He paused and looked at me with a wince, telling me I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “Shady or not, it would give us insight into her past.”
I smacked a palm on the table. “A past she clearly doesn’t want to mix with what she’s building here,” I stated. The demanding tone in my voice had both men staring at me, clearly surprised by my outburst.
Out of the many dominant, aggressive, and overprotective assholes employed by Uplift and its owners, I was the least assertive of us all. Not that I was a pushover or passive, just not as “I’ll prove my point with a fist to your throat” or “let’s see you say that to my gun” like the others.Allthe others. So that bit of bite in my tone no doubt took them off guard, because that wasn’t me.
But whatwasme was understanding her desire to leave the past exactly where it should stay—buried in the back of your fucking head where it couldn’t taint the good you were currently living. Cutting everyone off and leaving it all for a clean start was what some of us needed in order to move the fuck on from the trauma and hate that darkened our past like an ink splotch seeping through a sheet of white paper.
Hopefully, Juno’s past wasn’t as dark as mine. My good hand curled into a fist beneath the table just thinking of her scared or hurting with no one to rely on or turn to for help. A surge of protectiveness swelled in my chest, burning through my veins unlike anything I’d felt before.
Breathing deeply through my nose, I tried to calm down, slow my heart rate to a non-stroke-inducing level. Damn, was this how the other guys felt all the time, this need to kill anything or anyone who dared harm someone they cared about? No wonder all my friends were tense as hell if they constantly fought this urge to wipe out the existence of anyone who even remotely hurt or upset their girl.
