“It’s been a minute. I could use a nap.”
“Chase, I…” she whispered, her eyes filling with more tears. Her mouth opened and closed and opened. “I used your toothbrush.”
He chuckled. “I noticed it was wet when I brushed my teeth.”
She padded back to the bacon on the stove, and he sliced the tomatoes. After placing the crispy strips on a plate, she set it beside the tomatoes. Then, returning to the refrigerator, she brought mayonnaise to the island. Retrieving the toast, she put it on two plates and took a seat beside him. She put the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches together and handed him one. They were both hungry and finished their BLTs. She said she was stuffed but fixed Chase a second one. As he ate, despite his protests, she tidied up the kitchen.
“I want to make something clear,” she said, sitting back down beside him.
His gut tightened, and he placed the last bite of his BLT on his plate. “Go for it.”
“My life is in shambles. I have no job, no home, no phone, and, come to think of it, no car. I have nothing to offer you, and you owe me nothing.”
“Trust me, we’ll get your car back,” Chase said, keeping his outrage at the Spatafores under control. “We’ll get your belongings out of that house too. You’re welcome to store your furniture in the barn and stay here with me. A new phone is easy enough to get.”
She pinched her tee shirt on both sides of the Triple C logo and lifted it away from her body. “You have this ranch to run. It’s branding season.” Letting go of the shirt, she said, “You don’t need me and my problems.”
“I can handle my ranch andyou.”
“You’ve been shot, and your Hummer is riddled with bullet holes because of me.”
“It’s not riddled. Just a couple of holes.” He winked and popped the last bite of his BLT into his mouth. “With luck, the bullet that grazed me is buried inside the Hummer.”
“I’ll pay to have your Hummer repaired,” Jade said.
“Like hell you will.” He shook his head. “But if I can find that bullet, the cops may be able to match it to Franco’s popgun.”
Jade wrung her hands. “Everything that has happened is my word against theirs. I have no proof they abducted me or drugged me or kept me against my will.”
“I have no proof they shot first. It’s my word against theirs as to why I plowed through their gate.”
“Chase. You can’t risk anything else because of me,” she said seriously.
“I’m sure as hell not letting them get away with any of this.” With his touch of humor in this unfunny situation, he said, “It isn’t the first crime rodeo for the Spatafores.”
“What?” Her expression was a mixture of horror and shock. “How do you know?”
Sobering again, he told her about the arrest reports he’d found on the Internet. “The Spatafores are predators, Jade. Obviously, they’re dangerous.”
“Exactly!” Sliding off the barstool, Jade said, “The quicker I’m gone, the safer you’ll be.”
With a sigh, Chase pulled her between his thighs and into his arms. “Pain?”
“No, but…” She shivered and whispered, “We both know I have to leave.”
“Let’s sleep on it.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Having slept on it, Chase had said he didn’t want her to leave, no matter the danger to him. He did, however, agree to let Teresa close the gunshot wound with four stitches. Three nights later now, Jade lay awake next to him. Her troubled mind wouldn’t let her fall asleep. As she’d done the previous two nights, Jade faced away from Chase, staring into the darkness. She had ruled out amnesia, as her symptoms didn’t suggest she’d suffered a blow to the head. But a puzzle piece was missing only she could find. So she silently began searching for it. Again.
After the BLTs, she and Chase had gone to his bedroom. She knew Chase was exhausted, and almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow, his even breathing said he was sound asleep. As for her, it was nice to drift off naturally, not because of whatever drug Franco had slipped her.
Her memory of Chase had begun its return as soon as she saw him at the Spatafores’ compound. In Chase’s shower, she had cried happy tears at being back with him on his ranch. However, there was a downside, and it was a paralyzing one. She’d admitted to herself while drying her hair, the so-called trauma Franco had refused to discuss was triggered whenever Chase touched her. In addition to the pain, distorted images had flashed before her eyes the second Chase had placed his hands over hers on the Spatafores’ gate. Breaking contact stopped the pain but not the hazy images. With each touch, those visuals had sharpened until the focus had become terrifyingly clear.
Devastated, she had crumpled to the floor in Chase’s bathroom. She had let him think her collapse was due to the fact she’d had nothing to wear. He’d picked her up, and as painful as it was, she stayed in his arms. When the false pain couldn’t beat the muscular cowboy, it subsided and thus vanished—not to return. Chase was completely unaware of the visuals, and she didn’t know how to tell him. When he’d asked her, after the BLTs, if she felt pain, she’d truthfully said no—but the images were slamming her with brutal force.
Every time she and Chase made contact, her brain screamed danger and attacked her with the images. As long as he didn’t touch her, she felt safe enough to share his bed. They’d not made love, but as it happened, she was able to honestly use the excuse of it being her time of the month. Even so, there was no cuddling, no hugging, and no spooning as they fell asleep. With her period over now, she desperately wanted their closeness back. But she couldn’t see how.
