Dangerous Obsession. Jessica R. Patch

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СКАЧАТЬ to Cosette and left Dad, she’d still be alive. But she was the textbook case of an abused wife. Cosette’s training and begging hadn’t been enough to save her—to convince her she could walk away.

      Her phone rang. Her dad’s lawyer calling again. She ignored every single one. She didn’t care what he had to say. The phone beeped notifying her that she had a voice mail. She promptly deleted it without listening, as she had all of them in the past few months. She’d never forgive her father for what he’d done. Never betray her mother in that way.

      The scripture that encouraged loving and forgiving your enemies needled her, but she ignored it.

       Sorry, Lord, this one is too hard.

      Wilder returned and Amy stood. “Back to work.”

      He reclaimed his uninvited spot. “Okay, what time are we leaving Friday?”

      Cosette snorted and sifted through a few ads, folding the ones she wanted and tucking them into her purse. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

      “Other than the crew coming out to go Karate Kid on the house, I’m dead-free.”

      “Painters or they’re kicking it down?”

      Wilder didn’t bother to answer. He checked his phone. Sent a text. “Time?”

      He wasn’t going to let it go. Why wasn’t he going to let it go?

      Because she was a terrible liar. She knew all the tricks and she still stank at it. She was a fraud through and through, and Wilder was onto her. His intuition was practically perfect. Like some kind of otherworldly power. Probably what kept him alive on so many tours and SEAL missions. Too bad her intuition wasn’t that spot-on. She might never have been involved with Jeffrey—or numerous others before him.

      The more she protested, the worse it would become. Wilder’s obsessive tendencies wouldn’t allow him to let up. But he wasn’t a sociopath or a narcissist. Actually, he was the only man she felt truly, completely safe with—physically. She didn’t trust her heart to anyone but herself these days. No getting out of this. Looked like she was stuck attending the reunion.

      “Do we fly or drive?” she asked.

      “Do we want to get there in less than two hours or less than seven?”

      She didn’t want to get there at all. But if she was going to visit Mama’s grave, this was her sliver of opportunity. “Less than two. I’ll book a flight. Festivities start at seven.”

      Wilder stood and lightly brushed her shoulder as he leaned down. “Wear your dancin’ shoes, darlin’,” he murmured, drawing out the endearment like he always did in a soft, Southern purr, then he left the café. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms.

      This was a stupid and dangerous idea on so many levels.

      * * *

      Wilder didn’t believe a word that came out of the French Cajun’s mouth. A very kissable mouth coated in cherry red. Something in that stack of mail the other day had wigged her out and in the three years Wilder had known Cosette, very little scared her. He admired that—her strength and bravery. Her cool head and soothing voice, unless she had her dander up and then she’d go to town jabbering in French Cajun—not one word understandable, but he sure enjoyed watching it. Enjoyed watching her in general. Graceful. Poised. That long, brunette hair wavy and wild down her back. But that’s all he could do—admire and appreciate.

      He didn’t date team members. But that wasn’t the main reason he couldn’t pursue his attraction to her. An attraction that had almost kept him from hiring her altogether. In that initial interview, there had been desperation in her eyes—like that of a wounded animal, horror-struck and terrified. Like she needed to come under his sheltering wings. So he’d said yes. Her credentials were top-shelf, but the pull toward her...that was visceral and scary. Wilder didn’t have the luxury of falling in love.

      He had his people to protect and lead.

      Clients who needed his attention.

      And mostly, if he gave his heart away, he’d have to give it all, which meant transparency and honesty about his past. That was something he wasn’t willing to give. If Cosette knew the deep secrets he harbored, she’d lose all respect for him. All trust. That terrified him more than his attraction to her. So he kept her at arm’s length. But it wasn’t easy. And this weekend was a dumb idea, but something had her rattled and she’d barely spoken on the flight to New Orleans. Not taking two weekends off sent a red flag flying; she’d made sure she was at her mother’s grave every Mother’s Day since she’d taken the job. Had noted in her interview that it was important to her. She’d rather go to her reunion and swing by the gravesite a week early? Nope. He hadn’t bought it. Too bad he hadn’t gotten his hands on her mail. Federal offense, but Wilder wasn’t above crossing lines if it meant protecting the people he cared about.

      She’d said to meet him in the hotel lobby at six. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and headed that way. She sat on a bar stool drinking a soda and looking absolutely stunning. Glad not to be wearing a tie, he felt choked already. He leaned against the bar and tapped her shoulder, startling her. Her head was somewhere else. Fear coursed through those coffee-bean-colored eyes. Her smile didn’t reach them.

      But he’d let it go. For now.

      “You ready, Miss LaCroix?” He extended his elbow and she accepted and slid off the stool, reaching him at chin-level in her sleek red heels. “You look incredible.”

      She snorted and adjusted her snug but not too revealing dress. “Puh-leeze.”

      Cosette wasn’t what he’d call model thin, but then he thought those women needed a roast beef sandwich. He liked her curves.

      They drove to a nearby park. The pavilion had been decorated in strands of twinkling white lights and a live band played. Cosette opted out of name tags. Newspaper stretched across a long table and mounds of crawfish, corn on the cob, shrimp and baby potatoes spilled from one end to the other. Wilder’s mouth watered.

      Cosette filled her plate, but she wasn’t herself. Nervous. Fidgety. Distracted. Head down, making zero eye contact with people.

      Wilder didn’t like it. Didn’t like that worry and fear in her eyes. He scanned the scene. Booze flowed and smoke drifted on the warm Southern air. His instincts went on high alert. Something eerie wafted with the laughter and Cajun spices.

      “You want to sit over at that picnic table?” he asked.

      “Sure.”

      A few women stopped her and chatted. Typical female jest. They grinned, but sized one another up. Who’d gained more weight? Who had the better job? The better man? As if it wasn’t obvious. He was a man and could see it. Women. Wilder shook his head, but smiled as Cosette introduced him.

      They gawked at his hair.

      He ought to cut it. But he had to admit—to himself and no one else alive—he loved his hair. No reason. Just did.

      They moseyed to the table as the New Orleans jazz band played. People whirled on the gazebo dance floor. But Cosette was not into this night. “So how bad did you hate high school?” he asked.

      She СКАЧАТЬ