When he spoke, his voice was sweet but weirdly sad.
“Sweetheart, as much as it kil s me to admit it, you aren’t done. And it’s his story to tel .” I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head. “It’s his to tel , Stel a. It isn’t pretty and if he didn’t share it with you, he didn’t for a reason. But I got no doubt he’d planned to get around to it eventual y, the time’s got to be right for that kind of shit. The time isn’t right when you find a good woman. You don’t want to lay your shit on her up front and freak her out.”
This made sense.
And any story that involved a jerky asshole of a father and a kidnapped and murdered sister was definitely shit you didn’t want to lay on anyone, good woman or not.
I was already freaked out and I didn’t know what the ef happened!
What I did know was that I would have known because Mace was going to tel me that morning.
I closed my eyes and turned my head away from Eric.
“I’m such an idiot,” I whispered.
Eric moved, stretching to lie by me ful out on the couch.
His arms moved around me to pul me ful frontal, his legs tangled with mine and I pressed my face into his chest.
After a few minutes of holding me, Eric asked, “You want me to take you back to him?”
I did.
I definitely did.
And I definitely knew that I’d been wrong about Eric.
He was a good guy.
A good guy I was using and another good guy I’d never have because I was thinking I was exactly as stupid as Preston Mason thought I was.
I answered, “Mace and I are over.”
Eric’s arms got tighter and his voice got lower and I could swear I heard a hint of anger when he asked, “What did Preston Mason do to you in that car?”
“Nothing.”
“Bul shit.”
I tipped my head back to look at him. “Seriously, Eric,” I lied through my teeth. “Nothing. We just talked.” At least that last part wasn’t a lie.
He wasn’t buying it. “Preston Mason doesn’t make a move without an ulterior motive. He didn’t kidnap you from a gig to have a chat.”
“I’m not saying it was a pleasant chat, I’m just saying he didn’t do anything to me.”
Eric’s brows drew together. “Stel a, you’re keepin’
something from me.”
“No, I’m not. You know I didn’t want to be back together with Mace. I just decided to make it clear,” I lied.
Yes, I lied.
Yes, again.
And no, I didn’t mind going to hel . It couldn’t be much worse than my life was at that very moment.
Eric watched me again. It did, of course, occur to me that he was a federal agent and likely could read the body language and facial expressions of much more accomplished liars than myself but at that moment I was too tired to care.
“I need to sleep,” I told him.
“You need to eat then you need to sleep,” Eric returned.
“I’m not hungry.”
He pushed up, rol ed over me, got to his feet and then pul ed me to mine.
“Then you get a bowl of cereal,” he decided.
“Eric.”
“No argument.S">“NoGy His voice was firm, so was his grip on my hand which led me straight to the kitchen.
*
Eric
Eric forced a bowl of cereal on Stel a.
Then he sat on the couch and watched a movie with her which she fel asleep halfway through.
Then he carried her to his bed, pul ed a blanket over her stil -clothed body, left the room, closed the door and walked into the living room.
He made a couple of cal s and got the number he needed.
Then he dialed Lee Nightingale’s cel .
“Yeah?” Nightingale answered.
“It’s Special Agent Turner.”
Lee’s voice went on alert. “Stel a?”
“She’s fine,” Eric responded. “You stil got that boy wonder at your computers?”
Lee didn’t reply.
“You do, you get him to work on Preston Mason and whatever the fuck he’s holding over Stel a. Something happened in that car. She’s not talkin’. There’s gotta be a link.”
“We’re already on it,” Lee responded.
“She doesn’t know about Caitlin Mason,” Eric went on.
“I know,” Lee replied. “You said ‘doesn’t’, you didn’t share?”
“Not my place.”