“Soon,” he replied. “Take your time. If I’m not here when you get back...”
She pulled the door open with one hand and brushed her teeth with the other.
“Whoa.” Blake stepped back. “What are you, Houdini?”
She’d dressed hastily in her chosen outfit and raked a brush through her hair, still slightly damp from last night’s shower. Marissa lifted a finger into the air and turned to the sink to rinse her mouth. “You’re not leaving without me.”
“There’s nothing you can do right now,” he said, drifting closer to the open bathroom door. “My goal is to keep you safe and out of sight.” His gaze slid over the multicolored bruising on her cheek, jaw and throat.
Her hand went to the aching spots on instinct. She’d tried not to look too long at her battered reflection when she’d driven a lip gloss wand along her bottom lip. The thick line across her cheekbone hurt, but it was nothing like the infernal sting where her face had collided with the tree, leaving heavy rows of scratches from the tree’s bark.
“I’m coming.” She grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from her bag on the floor and pulled the strings until welts left by Nash’s fingers were no longer visible. The marks had raised and darkened overnight, leaving distinct imprints of his hands like shadows clasped around her throat. She didn’t need everyone she saw today looking at her the way Blake was looking at her now.
Blake stepped into the doorway, blocking her view of the small crowd in the suite’s front room. He searched her top to bottom with cautious eyes before lingering his gaze on her cheek. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He stepped aside, opening one arm to direct her out. “We’ll take my truck to the station. West says the sketch artist will be there soon. He was bringing her to you, but I’ll let him know there’s no need.”
“A sketch artist?” Marissa grabbed the new phone from her nightstand. “I didn’t see the face of the man who grabbed me.”
“Anything you can tell her will help. I know this is Nash, but I need more than my gut to prove I’m right. Tell her what you remember, and whatever it is, it’ll be enough.”
“I don’t see how.”
Blake stopped to retrieve his badge and sidearm from the table. He signed his name to something, then whisked her out the door and into the cab of his truck.
“Last chance,” he said, slipping the shifter into Reverse. “You can still stay if you’d like. There’s lots of qualified personnel who could look out for you in there. West can still bring the sketch artist up here.”
“No. It’s good for me to get out. I feel like a sitting duck in there.”
“Fair enough.” Blake guided his truck away from the hideout and down the winding country road back to town.
Warm autumn winds rattled the trees and speckled the pavement with brightly colored leaves. It was hard to believe something as ugly as Nash Barclay could exist in a place as beautiful and peaceful as this one. Harder still to believe Nash wanted her. What had she done to gain his attention? How close was he to finding her again?
Blake stared at Marissa as he took the next right. “You look ready to jump.”
She loosened her grip on the seat’s edge. “I usually run to blow off steam. Now, I’ve got more to worry about than I ever have and no way to work out the tension.” Her cheeks heated as numerous ideas for burning energy with Blake came to mind. “How do you do it?” she asked, desperate to redirect the images in her mind. Another minute of those thoughts, and she’d need to crack a window for air.
Blake lifted and dropped one shoulder. “I run.”
“You run?” A smile broke over her face. “Really?”
“Well, don’t act so surprised. I don’t do it in the wilderness or up a cliff at five a.m. like you, but yeah. I run.”
Marissa faced forward, her smile set in place. She could feel his eyes on her cheek. There was no logical reason for the pleasure coursing through her, but the fact they shared a hobby made her happy.
“When you grow up with three younger brothers, like I did, you’ll do anything for an hour alone.”
What would life have been like for Marissa with two more little sisters?
“It was always just Kara and me. We did everything with our folks. You think I’m outdoorsy. You should meet my family. Especially Kara. She’s a leaf on the wind. She never stops moving, and she only comes inside when she has to.”
“I’d love to meet them someday.”
Marissa turned to face Blake. She’d like that, too, and she knew why. Dumb as it was, she liked Blake’s company a little too much. But why would he want to meet her family? She examined the lines around his eyes and mouth for signs he was joking, or lying. Though, she had no idea how to tell the latter.
She turned her eyes back to the road with an internal groan. Blake was a nice guy and a good agent who was just doing his job. He probably said whatever he thought would make the people in his care feel most at ease.
She had to admit he was good. At his side, it was easy to forget they were in danger.
A little while later, Blake held the door as Marissa entered the bustling station. She recognized the members of her local sheriff’s department. She’d grown up with most of them in one capacity or another. The FBI agents were easy enough to identify as well. Though she only knew Blake, the agents were dressed in slacks and jackets like the ones Blake had on when they’d met.
Small groups of official-looking men and women huddled around every desk, discussing the scattered contents of file folders or taking a call on speakerphone. Marissa’s name was on the lips of a dozen local protectors at once.
Blake’s warm
