“The more I think about it, the more you walking into the sheriff’s department feels antagonistic,” Jenna said. Her gut twisted with nerves as they neared their destination, and despite her words, she wanted Jon beside her. But she did also believe what she’d said. She didn’t see how things ended well for them if Jon walked into that building.
He’d never been able to resist Drew’s provocations in the past, and Lord knew Drew was still bastard enough to purposefully poke the proverbial bear.
“Trying to ditch me now, huh?” Jon teased.
She was going to have to think fast if she actually wanted to sell her idea. Which was when she finally remembered the text message she’d completely forgotten to respond to, like the amazing friend she was. It was amazing Lynnette talked to her at all sometimes.
Aloud, Jenna said, “I was thinking more ‘divide and conquer’.” That sounded good, right? “You’ve got so many things piling up thatonlyyou can do. This doesn’t have to be one of them.” Her hands were flying as she talked, taking up more space in the truck cab than the rest of her. “Let’s bypass the department, youdrop me at my place, and I’ll rendezvous with Martha. Touch base one more time. Meanwhile, I’ll get ahold of my friend—she works in the city and I almost never see her, but she texted early this morning that she’s off for the afternoon. She’s a total boss. Drew can’t push her around, so I’ll bring her with me.”
Jon was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel by the time she finished. The sign for the intersection that would determine their destination rolled by like a tangible weight.
Even Jenna could see it was an imperfect plan. But to her mind, it defended from the most egregious threats they were aware of. She was already outside the age-range of the recent slew of missing women, but should that not matter as much as anyone thought, there was strength in numbers. And while Jenna knew the absolute bare-minimum about self-defense—she knew how to form a fist and could throw a punch if her life depended on it, but that would never be her reflex—Lynnette was a city girl. And she knew Krav Maga.
“I don’t like it.”
Jenna frowned.
Jon kept talking. “But you do make a point, and time is of the essence.” His fingers flexed on the wheel. “Call your friend.”
She blinked. “What?”
He slowed the truck and eased onto the shoulder, the exit that would take them in the direction of the sheriff’s department straight ahead. He cut the engine, killing the ambient rumble, and twisted to face her. “Call your friend and see if she’s really available, and even remotely interested, in being dragged into this. It was your idea so you can explain it to her. But if she can’t make it, then no deal.”
“Jon, we need—”
“We need to get the law straightened out,” he continued. “We need to find Steph and whoever the fuck is kidnapping these women. I agree.” He reached over and planted his big, warm,strong hand on her thigh. His touch burned into her skin as if she weren’t wearing denim at all. With his fingers splayed, his pinky was mere inches from the apex of her thighs, and suddenly her body didn’t give a shit about responsibilities. He squeezed.
Her head snapped up and she realized she’d been staring at where he held her. And she had no defendable reason for that stupid response.
Jon lowered his voice, but he didn’t soften his tone. “Beyond all of that,mytop priority is keeping you safe. So, theonlyway we split up right now is if you have someone else you can one hundred percent trust, someone with a degree of sense and a couple vertebrae in their spine, keeping you company in the meantime. Do you understand?”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest, competing with and somehow enhancing the other feeling that continued to build a little lower. “Trust, sense, and a strong spine? If those are your qualifications, I think you’ll like this friend.” She forced herself to reach for her purse, and her phone, rather than Jon and the belt of his pants.
When was the last timethathad been a struggle?
Phone in-hand, she said, “Now that I think about it, you might like her so well I start to get jealous. Maybe Ishouldn’tintroduce you.”
Jon grunted, released his seatbelt, and crowded her space as he leaned close. Her seatbelt slid awkwardly across her body in its retreat and he raised one arm to brace his weight, his other hand curving around her hip to pull her toward him. “You don’t have a damn fucking thing to be jealous of, baby. It doesn’t matter how well I get along with anyone else. The only thighs I’ll be dreaming about wrapping around my hips”—he dragged his hand downward, at an angle, and recaptured her thigh in a firm grip as he spoke—“are right here. Never doubt that.”
Sweet Jesus.It was not fair the way he just turned that on—turnedheron—so swiftly.
Jenna left her phone in her lap to dance her hands up his chest. “I don’t honestly know what to say to that, other than I kind of hate you for talking like that when we’re on the side of a road and very much pressed for time.”
He smirked. “If you need to get off, I’m happy to help.”
She pouted. “That’s the whole problem!”
He responded with a low chuckle, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and retreated into his seat. His touch disappeared. “You’re right, we’re taking too much time as it is.” His dark gaze was heated as he let it rove over her. “Unfortunately.”
Jenna squirmed. She didn’t even know how to define what they were, let alone whatever was rapidly building between them, and it was a problem. A problem she was increasingly less certain she could avoid. She curled her fingers around her phone and said, “Let me ask you a question…”
Jon hooked an elbow over the steering wheel, facing her. “Anything.”
I need to know.It was nowhere near the most important thing going on, but she felt like she had the nerve in the moment. So, she sucked in a breath and met his patient stare. “Does this mean you’re staying, then? This”—she motioned awkwardly toward where he’d tossed the metal box in the back—“all of this, does it mean you plan to stay home?”
His brow pinched faintly and Jon reached out, brushing his fingers over her cheek. She didn’t have any stray whisps of hair, he was just … choosing to touch her. And he wasn’t looking away. “Jenna,” he finally said, “I wouldn’t have come home if I wasn’t prepared to stay. It’s only ever been a matter of the exact street address.”
The breath rushed from her lungs and she slumped against her seat, inadvertently retreating from his touch.Yes, then.He was staying. Jon was staying.
