With careful steps, I enter her bedroom and let out a breath when she eyes me owlishly. Her phone call did two things—scared the shit out of me and elated me. It gave me a way in and saved me from making up a crap excuse to talk to her. But the panic that struck me when I heard her fragile voice was unexpected.
I study her and wish I could take away the pain. She looks so damned cute—all mussed hair and sleepy eyes. I like her without the dark make up. Jess doesn’t look like the hot vixen I want to pin down and fuck but her pale lashes and delicate skin make me want to grab her and protect her from everything.
I bite back a sigh. Really don’t need to be thinking like this. It’s got to be an act. Why can’t I keep my head together?
Maybe because just looking at her makes me hard.
“Hey,” I say as I sit on the bed and hand over the pills. I glance around and realize she doesn’t have anything to take them with so I race to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water after fumbling around in the couple of cabinets. She owns only two glasses. This girl is nuts.
Protectiveness burgeons in my chest when I hand over the water. Mam used to say I had a hero complex. It was why I wanted to be a bodyguard. I wanted to be Kevin Costner, until I realized the job was too dull for me. Even as a kid I’d take in stray animals and even stray kids. I was bigger than most so if I saw someone being picked on, I’d be straight in there. I chuckle to myself. It did mean I spent a lot of time fighting.
Now that damned hero complex is rising up again. It hit me last night and it’s what forced me to come to her today. I can’t resist a person in need. Still, it’s given me a way back into her life. Jess doesn’t seem averse to me playing her saviour. Hopefully she’ll be grateful and give me the chance to find out where the money is. Then I’ll pay my bills, save Mam’s house and my business and say goodbye to the mess that is Jess.
Her weak mumble of thanks strikes me in the gut. You ain’t going to be thanking me soon, princess. Not when I hand her over to her stepfather. I’ve just got to be charming enough to get close without getting too close. That way I won’t be breaking her heart too.
Not that I care.
“Got you the strongest ones.” I shrug. “At least the pharmacist said these are the best.”
Popping the pills, she swallows them, drawing my attention to her fragile neck and smiles. “These are great, thank you.” She slumps against the bright bedding—a sort silky green fabric. The only thing in this place that looks remotely new. Even with bags under her eyes, she looks fantastic against the colour.
“Can I get you anything else?”
She shakes her head. “I just need to sleep for a bit. I’ve got to work tonight.”
The temptation to skim my fingers over her cheeks as she burrows against the pillow forces me to curl a hand. Instead, I make a show of readjusting the bedding around her.
“Thank you, Hunter.”
My name, a mere whisper on her lips, spirals deep inside and summons more desire than any other word has. God knows I’ve had some girlfriends who liked to talk dirty but they never had this kind of effect on me.
Before I can do anything foolish, I retreat out of the room and pull the door to, leaving just enough gap so I can check on her without disturbing her. I slump onto the creaky couch and shove my fingers into my hair. What do I do now? Am I really going to hang around and wait for her to wake up?
Yeah, I guess I am. I can’t afford to lose this chance. I chuckle. I sure didn’t expect to be nursing a sick woman when I took on this job. I fish my phone out of my pocket and catch up on a few emails while I wait. After half an hour, I give up waiting. She’s definitely asleep now. In her small apartment I can hear her steady breaths and the occasional mumble. It’s far too endearing.
I glance around and stand. Can’t miss the opportunity. The couch squeaks and I freeze. Nothing but the sound of people in the apartment above, traffic outside and Jess sleeping. Hands on my hips, I consider the room. I get the feeling I’m going to find fuck all but I’ve got to try. I doubt it will be as easy as finding a bank statement but I can always hope. Perhaps I can even leave before she wakes up and she’ll be none the wiser. I’ll get out of her life and forget her.
The tiny T.V. sits on a battered wooden unit and I kneel and pull open the drawers, careful to remain quiet. I shake my head in disbelief. A T.V. remote, two DVDs—some chick flicks with women in bonnets on or something—and a tatty set of playing cards. I take them out of the sleeve. They appear old but tell me nothing.
On her windowsill are several well-read paperbacks so I give up my search of the unit and pick through the books. A Jane Austen, a spy novel I don’t recognize and an old fashioned romance book with a painted cover of a woman with windswept hair. The Jane Austen catches my eye. It’s leather bound and looks better cared for than the others. Inside is a bookplate with an illustration of a fairy and her name scrawled under the ‘This Book Belongs To’ part. The childish handwriting makes my gut clench.