CHAPTER EIGHT
TARA DECIDED NOT to question Jeff’s offer. She thought she’d be a distraction, but maybe he needed one. And she’d feel safer out of town with him than at a hotel by herself. Simple as that.
Liar.
An hour later, after a quick breakfast and coffee, they exited the Target store in Stafford, just off I-95, carrying bags full of groceries and some new clothes for Taratoward the camper parked at the back of the lot. They’d left Jeff’s Forerunner in a storage facility in Manassas so they wouldn’t have to tow it.
Once inside the RV, Tara tore the tags from everything. She was ready to get out of the dress and heels she’d had to wear again this morning, and to be warm from head to toe.
“All yours.” He gestured to the room. “You good if I get us on the road?”
“Absolutely.” She dashed into the bedroom with her purchases and shut the door behind her.
Everything had that freshly dyed smell, but she couldn’t care less. No more rumpled dress or heels, or ridiculously oversized sweats. Within minutes, she’d donned new underwear—boring, but functional—a red V-neck T, a thick black sweater, jeans, socks, and running shoes.
Topping it off with a new skijacket and gloves, she grabbed her old clothes and shoved them into one of the empty shopping bags along with her ripped pea coat.
“Feeling better?” Jeff asked when she joined him in the front and buckled in.
“Yes.” She held her palms in front of the heat vents, sighing with relief at the warm air. “So much. Thank you.”
Once they were back on 95, Jeff was in a constant fight with the crosswindsbuffeting the RV. Loath to distract him, Tara stared out the window.
She couldn’t stop the questions swirling in her head about who wanted her dead anymore than she could banish the vision of Jeff standing half-naked in the kitchen. Holy crap, she’d nearly choked on her coffee when she turned and saw him there, still damp from his shower, dark hair sticking up in clumps. He was tall and leanfrom his sculpted shoulders to his sinewy calves. She’d wanted to smooth his goosebumps with her hands and mouth, toy with the hair lightly covering his solid chest, trail her lips down his flat abs to the edge of the towel slung low around narrow hips…
Her body throbbed with want, and suddenly heat wasn’t a problem. Would it be so bad to break her celibate streak with a man like that?
Yes. He made her feel too much. No one since Colin had inspired such strong desire, the kind that made her crazy, made her forget that she deserved more than a few hours of pleasure without strings. She’d made too much progress over the last four years to throw it away just because Jeff stirred her long-neglected libido.
Assuming he even returned her interest. The guy had a few things on his mindthese days. Like his missing son. Not to mention whoever was after Tara—and probably him by extension at this point.
Sex would only complicate things, and when their lives returned to normal, he had other priorities. Better to focus on getting her own shit in order.
She removed her jacket, finally not shivering, and tried to ignore the warm, clean scent of the man sitting next to her. Tuckingher feet up into a cross-legged position, she succumbed to the urge to study his profile. High forehead, sunglasses perched on his long straight nose, solid chin, thin lips that rarely curved into a smile.
Jesus, stop. Time to figure out why she was a target.
She forced her gaze back to her new phone. Procrastinating, she texted Jenna and Mick with her new number in case Jenna went into laborearly. Not wanting to alarm either of them, she said she’d explain the change later. She did the same with Kurt.
And then she really had no excuse for getting to work.
With Mars dead, it didn’t make sense that anyone he might have hired would still be after her. If he’d already paid part of an assassin’s fee before his death, he wasn’t around to pony up even if they finished the job, so wherewas the incentive? It could be one of his friends or family looking for revenge, but that seemed far-fetched.
The only thing she could think of that made sense to her were the missing pictures. She didn’t believe for a second that Mars’s tumble into the camera had been an accident. The police hadn’t found the media card with the photos on it, so he’d either managed to hide or destroy it beforehis arrest. But Tara had seen the pictures.
And Mars had known that.
What if he’d told someone?
Her money was on the guy with the tattoo, because all the other images had been of some society event or individual photo shoots. Who else would have a motive? The only lead she had was the lion tattoo and the vague feeling that she’d seen it before.
A shudder ran through her. What some peopledid in their private moments…
She started by searching for celebrity tattoos. Chances were good she didn’t actually know the guy, she’d probably just read about him inPeople MagazineorUs. Which would also explain why he’d be worried about being recognized.
Forty-five minutes later, after countless combinations of search criteria and a numb butt, she found him on someone’s old social mediafeed from college.
Gregory Luciano.
