Caught Up Read online

  Clint spit blood. “Not if he finds you first.”

  Jase twisted and stood as Clint scrambled to his knees. When the light flooding out of the open door hit Jase’s face, her fingers dug into the doorframe.

  “Oh my God …” she breathed, taking in the effects of the fight he’d just had with his brother. A stream of blood trickled from his left brow and smeared across his cheekbone. Worse than that was the look on his face. She’d never seen a man so angry and sad at the same time.

  Jase took the steps in two strides and wrapped one hand around the door, the other around her arm. Without a backward glance, he pushed her inside and shut his brother out. Collapsing his weight against the door, he pulled her tight, breathing hard.

  Cassie wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry.”

  “Didn’t do anything, babe.”

  “That was your brother…” She couldn’t imagine fighting with her own blood like that, and she didn’t know if she could continue living in their world, even for a while. Even for Jase.

  “Yeah, it was.” He released her and strode toward the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head.

  She might have stumbled when she saw the tattoo covering his back. “Don’t Tread on Me” was scrawled across his lower back under a South Texas version of the coiled viper. The rattlesnake—wicked, fangs exposed, ready to strike—sent a chill down her spine and a tingling sensation straight southward. It wasn’t just the design that hit her between the legs. The way it rippled across his broad, tapering back as he bunched his shirt in his hands made her weak and hungry, both at the same time.

  He disappeared up the short steps, and she just stood there like an idiot, trying to find her wits. She heard the shower come on and retreated to the couch where she retrieved her wayward bra before curling into a ball.

  What just happened?

  Jase’s response to Clint’s lease slut comment hadn’t been surprising. His taking the lease to an attorney had been. But Clint hadn’t known about her or the lease prior to this evening. So what brought him here?

  You burned it down!

  She bolted into a sitting position.

  Had Jase set the house in the woods on fire? If so, she had done something to cause the fight. She’d trespassed. She’d angered him by telling him what she’d seen there. She’d…provoked him into arson? But was it arson if committed on your own property? And what had she seen at that house that caused him to leave her stunned that night, to bring his brother here tonight, spoiling for a fight?

  The shower stopped, and she turned those questions over and over until he came down the steps, wet-headed, bare-chested, and wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms.

  Cassie rose as he approached the couch. “Are you okay?”

  That was about the stupidest thing she could have asked.

  “I will be,” he said, stilling the hand she reached toward the bruise blooming along his jaw.

  “I should go.” And that might be best. His tattoo might have made her weak, but the sight of him now, wet and a little beat-up, damn near killed her. She wanted to plant kisses down that cleft between his pecs, trace the long, thin scar across his chest, ask him about the jagged, wicked one across his rippled abdomen. And were those others…bullet wounds?

  Jesus.

  “You need rest.”

  He hugged her to his damp chest. “I just got in a fistfight with my brother. What I need is your body against mine on this couch.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  Cassie’s breath fled as he spun and fell onto the couch with her clutched to his chest. She lifted her head in protest, but he pressed it down, just beneath his jaw.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered, un-pausing the movie. “They just made it to Lothlorien.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kyle scooted into one of the hard yellow booths, unable to contain himself any longer. “Soooo…”

  “Soooo what?” she asked, opening a bag of jalapeño potato chips. To preserve her jiggle.

  Kyle cocked an all too dramatic eyebrow. “Your car wasn’t at the motel this morning.”

  Actually, it had been—long enough to shower and change before picking up the signed and notarized Peterson lease at the law offices of Kramer and Calhoun. Her belly had fluttered when she’d walked in, remembering Jase’s lease was there also. She didn’t know what had changed, but she knew, in some way, that she’d been a part of it. The rest of her morning had consisted of dodging smirks from her coworkers and making some follow-up calls regarding the few leases she still had out. “I asked you to lunch so I can ask you some title questions, not account for my whereabouts between the hours of—”

  “Evading the question?”

  “You made a statement.”

  Kyle cleared his throat. “Semantics.”

  “I fell asleep on his couch.” And awoke to a note and a hot pot of coffee.

  Got called out to the rig. Dropped an extra key in your purse. Lock up when you leave.

  See you tonight.

  Jase

  Kyle chuckled. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “It was kind of a rough night.” She filled him in on Clint’s little visit and the ensuing brawl while she unwrapped her sub.

  “Holy shit. Those two fighting?”

  “It wasn’t sexy.” Though she had to suppress a shudder at the memory of Jase’s big, wet body afterward.

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Seriously, Kyle, the stuff they were saying… I think Jase burned that house down.”

  “Well.” He swallowed a bite. “There’s only one way to find out…”

  “No. Hell, no. Besides, going out there won’t really explain anything.”

  Kyle spoke over her shoulder. “Damn, I’d kill for that face.”

  Cassie turned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Were none of Marian’s dining establishments safe?

  “I’m serious, she’s really pretty.”

  Of course she was. Daphne looked fresh as the dawn walking into Subway with one of her girls. And Kyle was acting like he’d just spotted a celebrity. Fighting back what felt like betrayal at his unabashed fascination, Cassie took a long sip of tea before bursting her best friend’s Awed Smurf bubble. “That’s Jase’s ex.”

  “Oh, shit, which one?”

  “The pretty one, dumb-ass.”

  Kyle about choked on a chip and hastily reached for his drink.

  Daphne’s girl was pretty, too. She just didn’t glow. The larger of the two from the other night, she wore a lot less makeup and looked worlds better without it. She wasn’t all that hefty, either, Cassie noticed; she just looked big next to Daphne. Hell, anyone would. Images of Jase and Daphne sprang to her mind—images of him towering over her, a protector, of him sprawled atop her, a lover. Cassie threw her half-eaten sandwich down and brushed her hands together.

  “Jealous?” Kyle asked.

  She gave him a look that could only be described as glowering. She also couldn’t help sneaking a few glances at the sandwich line, hoping Zen Daphne was simply out for a pleasant lunch with one of her girls. The cutting looks she received in return, and the way Daphne leaned that bobbed head into her friend, whispering, made Cassie think not.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when the pair slid into an adjacent booth.

  “…caught my man with another woman on his lap, I would’ve beat the shit outta her then moved on to him.”

  A voice like freaking wind chimes answered. “You know it’s not like that with me and Jase. I know he’s just having fun. He always comes back.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. The women didn’t notice this because they’d strategically chosen to sit at her back—the better for her to hear them but not see them.

  “Bitches roll into town acting like they own shit that ain’t theirs? No, girl, you gotta send a message.”

  Cassie leaned across the table, whispering to Kyle, “Have I mentioned that Marian has a junior high graduation problem?”

 
“Often.”

  She jerked her head back. “Case in point, A and B.”

  Kyle sat back in the booth, crossed his arms, and studied her quizzically. “I wonder what Jase is making you for dinner tonight.”

  She could’ve killed him, right then and there. Was he in freaking junior high, too?

  “And I wonder,” Cassie heard behind her, “what Jase is gonna get his son for his birthday.”

  Kyle’s eyes rounded.

  Cassie shook her head and mouthed, “Not his.” She had no proof and didn’t know why she believed it, but she did. Maybe she just wanted to.

  Kyle shrugged. “Maybe get him a paternity test?”

  Damn it. She chuckled, and her body shook as she tried to stifle it. Then she heard the chuckle mimicked—that juvenile response people resort to when they can’t come up with something witty. It disgusted her. And she was pretty disgusted at herself for participating in the bathroom-stall shit-talk to the extent she had. She crumpled her trash and stuffed it in the plastic Subway bag. “I’m done.”

  “Oh, you’re done, bitch.”

  Daphne’s tinkling voice was edged with ire, and Cassie pictured one of those dark faeries with sharp teeth. This time, her body didn’t shake with mirth.

  She grabbed her purse and stood before looking down at Daphne. “You know, I actually felt sorry for you the other night. Now I know what you really are, and I feel sorry for you on a whole different level.”

  Daphne glared, those big doe-eyes dark behind lush lashes, and when she spoke, she did it slowly, deliberately. “What I am is your worst nightmare.”

  It rattled Cassie more than she’d like to admit, and she quickly looked away. Her nervous gaze settled on the other woman. “If you’re really her friend, get her some help. She probably needs medication.”

  Daphne lunged. “Bitch, I will—”

  Her friend shot a restraining arm across the table. Cassie sensed this wasn’t for her benefit but because of the scene they were beginning to cause. The malicious grin splitting Daphne’s friend’s face all but confirmed it.

  Nightmare indeed.

  She felt Kyle tugging at her arm and began slowly backing away, as if facing wild animals.

  Cassie spent the first half of the afternoon working on actual work and the second half working on a list of questions to ask Jase.

  Yes, she made a list. She had that many questions. And she didn’t know which ones he planned on answering, so she prepared a whole arsenal.

  Afterward, she hit the shower and spent an inordinate amount of time with her razor.

  Her preparations were for naught. The missed call and accompanying text she discovered once dried and lotioned-up revealed this.

  Jase: Gotta work tonight. Send me a text before you go to bed. Just want to know you’re okay.

  Well, that was sweet and all, but she’d been hoping for more than sweet. And her questions would have to wait. Again.

  What couldn’t wait was the phone call to the Twin Pines administrator. After filing a complaint about her mother’s slip in the shower, she dialed the direct line to her mother’s room. Even if she planned on moving her mother soon, that didn’t mean the rest of the residents didn’t deserve a more watchful eye.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Who’s this?” an unsteady voice answered.

  “It’s Cassie.”

  “Cassie?”

  Shit.

  She prayed a silent prayer that her mother was just tired, that her recent confusion and awkward conversations weren’t hinting at the early stages of dementia. Because the day her mother didn’t recognize her voice…well, that was going to hurt more than she could imagine.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you just left?”

  Oh God.

  Cassie fought back the tears and tried to speak without trembling. “I just wanted to check on you.”

  “That’s sweet, honey. You take such good care of me.”

  No, I don’t. But that’s about to change.

  “How’s your hip?”

  “You just saw it…” Her mother sounded unsure of herself now, and Cassie’s heart clenched.

  “Well, I’m just wanting it to heal up. That’s all.”

  Her mother’s voice wavered into the phone. “So tell me about work. I don’t think you…mentioned it earlier.” Again, Cassie detected a hint of unease in her mother’s voice, like she was as concerned about the odd conversation as her daughter was.

  Cassie glossed over the Lucas lease dilemma, and instead regaled her mother with Kyle’s latest and greatest escapades. She even mentioned running into Reid.

  “I knew that one was no good for you,” her mother said, confident this time. “You deserve better than a wannabe hotshot, Cass. You deserve the world.”

  All mothers believe that. She tried to laugh it off, but her mind kept spiraling back to Jase. To his hands on her body and his words in her ear. The way he’d worshipped her with both and expected nothing in return. He’d expressed concern about her mother, who he’d never met, and he understood her drive to protect her. He was fierce and protective in his own right, and he fought for what he believed in, even if it included arson.

  Yeah, she had a ton of questions for the man. And as she said goodbye to her mother, she wondered if his answers would change how she felt about him.

  Because, like it or not, there were definitely feelings involved.

  …

  Halfway through her morning beauty ritual, Jase appeared at the door. Thank God she’d already blown out her hair and finished her eyes, saving her from bed-head embarrassment and him from the truth about her wimpy eyelashes.

  She could have been sporting a Mohawk and war paint; Jase wouldn’t have noticed.

  He barged into her room, looking around like she’d stashed another man under the bed. “You didn’t text me.”

  “I fell asleep reading.” And she’d awoken around three o’clock after a very—ahem—good dream, Jase lingering in her mind, along with the fact that she’d forgotten to text. But she hadn’t known if he was still at work or passed out from exhaustion. She’d hoped the latter and let it go. Judging by the grease-stained T-shirt, he’d been working. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his stubble approached beard territory. That scowl, though…

  “You don’t think about me before you go to sleep?” he asked. Usually, yes. For extended periods of time. “Because I go to sleep every night with my head wrapped around you and my hand wrapped around…something else.”

  Her insides turned to complete mush at his revelation. “Me, too,” she admitted softy. “Not the, um…you know, the same part, but…the equivalent?”

  Jase stepped toward her and his scowl melted into a lustful glare. “Pack your shit.”

  “My shit?” she asked, completely tuning out the “pack” part.

  “Yeah, start packing it.”

  She crossed her arms. “And where am I going?”

  “The motel section of the Tee-Pee.”

  Right. She’d tried to score one of the conical, pictogram-covered bungalows upon arriving in Marian and, to no avail, for several weeks thereafter. “I’m not moving motels just to be told we’re clearing out of town in three days.” It happened that fast. Jase’s bruised face turned to stone, but she ignored it, not ready to go there herself despite her threats. “Besides, the Tee-Pee is always full.”

  “I’ll talk to Otis, make sure the next opening is yours. You can stay with me in the meantime.”

  Oh, really? “I like spending time with you, but this might be moving a little fast for—”

  “Have you looked outside?”

  She eased to the window, wary of what she’d discover.

  “Every one of your tires is flat. Slashed.”

  No, girl, you gotta send a message. “No she didn’t…” But there it was, plain as day—all four rims surrounded by flattened rubber.

  “Who?”

  She spun on him. “Your ex-girlfriend. I ran into her yesterday, and
we had words.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing I haven’t already heard, although she said it in a much different manner.” She paused as Jase swiped an angry hand through his hair. “And I seriously doubt moving into your RV park is going to make the situation any better. In fact, it will probably make it worse.”

  “You’ll be safer there.”

  “Safer? My property may not be, but I’m perfectly safe here.”

  Jase drew her away from the window. “Close the door and lock it behind me,” he said stepping outside.

  “What?”

  “Close the door and lock it!”

  Her skeptical gaze remained fixed on his until the door closed. Then, she turned the deadbolt and slid the chain.

  “Locked?” he called through the door.

  “Yes.”

  After two kicks and what she assumed to be a shoulder, Jase stood in the room with her. He’d splintered the doorframe. She didn’t know which left her more stunned: that he’d been able to bust through her door or the fact that her door was ruined and now she’d have to move. Even so…“I seriously doubt Daphne is capable of that.”

  “Won’t be her kicking in the door.”

  “One of her minions?” she asked, wondering if Little Miss Pixie had a troll in her service.

  “No. Someone trying to get to me through you.”

  Plummeting stomachs are usually a good indicator of unwelcome explanations, but she had to know. “What are you talking about?”

  “These doors aren’t secure. They weren’t six months ago, and aren’t now.”

  “Six months ago?” A chill crawled across her flesh. “That was you…” She’d heard it all, even from several doors down. Banging, yelling, cops, the whole nine yards.

  “Yeah, and anyone who really wanted in here could do the same.”

  “What happened?”

  “Not now. We’ve gotta get you packed.” Jase turned his back to survey her “shit.”

  “Answer me. Why did you kick in a door?”

  He twisted his head over his shoulder. “Daphne was here with another man.”

  Whoa. Hadn’t they…hadn’t they broken up way before then? Her jaw snapped closed. Then it opened. Finally acknowledging her jealousy and the fact that she didn’t own the monopoly on Jase’s territorial instincts, she unleashed one of the questions burning a hole in her brain.