Chapter Seventeen
Jedidiah and Trevordidn’t spend every night together—just damn near. But for the last few nights Jedidiah had stayed at her place. She knew why, though she didn’t think Trevor did. She needed some distance between them. This was the first time since Noah that she’d been with a man so much. Or at all recently, other than for work. Now, she not only spent the days with Trevor, working, it seemed to her that she was spending nights with him more and more often. Too often. Jedidiah didn’t want to become too dependent on Trevor. She didn’t want to feel as if something was missing if they didn’t spend the night together.
She and Noah hadn’t lived together. They hadn’t even spent that many nights together until that final mission. And that hadn’t exactly been fun and relaxing since the whole case was fraught with danger. Noah had dealt with it better than she had, but then he’d been undercover a lot more than she had.
Jedidiah valued her independence. She enjoyed being with Trevor. But she wasn’t ready for a big commitment. Even if she had fallen in love with him, she wasn’t ready for more. Not that Trevor had mentioned the L word. She was borrowing trouble, as she had a tendency to do.
You’re in love with him. You just keep trying to talk yourself out of it. Which isn’t easy when you spend all your days and most of your nights with him.
“You’re about a million miles away,” Trevor said.
“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
“I said I was hungry and did you want to get a pizza delivered.”
She almost begged off but then she realized she was starving and leaving just to prove a point—to herself—was just dumb. “All right. But I’m going home after we eat.”
“Okay.” He sent her a speculative look but didn’t say anything else.
“Moore’s trial is set for a week from today,” Trevor told her as they ate pizza in his kitchen.
“That’s quick, isn’t it? I thought those cases usually take a long time to get to court.”
“They do. But Johnny Gamble took Ricky’s case and he managed to get it moved up.”
Trevor had said he thought he could get Johnny to take Ricky’s case. One of Whiskey River’s best-known and excellent lawyers, he was very much in demand. “How can Ricky afford his fee?”
“He can’t. Johnny’s doing it pro bono.”
“How did you swing that? Do you know Johnny Gamble?”
“Yeah, he’s an old friend of mine. He didn’t take much convincing once I told him Ricky’s story.”
She didn’t ask if he was still planning to ride with BFK and escort Ricky to court. She knew he was. The trial would take place in the Blanco County Courthouse in Johnson City, not very far from Whiskey River.
“Sure you can’t stay for a while?” Trevor asked after they cleaned up. Luckily, cleanup consisted of throwing away the box the pizza came in and the paper plates they’d used. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jedidiah couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
He began stringing kisses along her jaw. One hand pressed against her bottom, urging her closer. Jedidiah angled her head to give him access to her neck. If she didn’t go soon she’d say to hell with it and wind up staying and making crazy love with him.
And that would be bad, why?
His Ring doorbell chimed and there was a loud crash and sounds of glass breaking. They sprang apart. “What the hell was that?” Trevor asked.
“I don’t know but it didn’t sound good.” They ran into the living room. A brick sat on the floor in front of the big window, which was shattered. Fortunately the brick had missed the computers but it had missed a tablet by a hair. Trevor picked up the brick and read the note attached to it.
“What does it say?”
He handed her the note. She read it aloud. “You think BFK is a BFD but it’s not. You and your buddies need to butt out. You’ll be sorry if you don’t. The brat will be even sorrier.”
*
“So much foryour contention that nothing bad was going to happen,” Jedidiah said, handing back the note.
Well, shit. “It’s a threat. That doesn’t mean they’ll follow through. Besides, I can’t imagine what they think they can do.” He called up the camera to see if he could tell who’d done it.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, sarcasm dripping. “Maybe they’ll decide to kill you. Or Ricky. Or his new foster parents.”
