Dream Huntress (A Dreamseeker novel) (Entangled Ignite) (4 page)

There. That should settle it. Even Mr. Arrogant couldn’t have missed
that
subtle goodbye. Or so she thought. Damned if he didn’t cuff a hand around her arm as though she’d melt to the ground at any moment.

She stopped at the flight of stairs that led to her apartment on the second floor. Was it possible that the number of steps had doubled since that morning?

Before her brain could process the move, Ty swept her up.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

He left her no choice but to grab hold. With her head so close to his chest and her arms locked around him, it was impossible not to breathe him in. God, he smelled good. A shocking tightening of muscles clenched low in her stomach.

She trembled as he put her down at the top of the stairs.

“Ty, really, I know I owe you big for all you’ve done”—she put her key in the deadbolt, but didn’t turn it—“but you need to go.”

He laid his hand on top of hers and twisted the key, then pushed the door open and stepped inside. “You’re gonna owe me bigger by tomorrow. If I can’t leave you alone for twenty-four hours, you better have cable. Or some other way to keep me entertained.”

Jordan heard the suggestive grin in his voice. She flipped on the lights.

After another five or six steps inside the door, he stopped abruptly, as if he’d hit an invisible brick wall. He looked around the one-bedroom apartment in much the same way she had when she first stepped inside.

A ninety-two-year-old woman had passed away a few weeks earlier. The apartment manager offered the place fully furnished, claiming the older woman’s family didn’t want her personal items. It didn’t take long for Jordan to figure out why. The apartment’s color scheme was avocado green and burnt orange. The colors had apparently been popular decades ago, and this place had never progressed with the times.

The television looked like an antique. So did the mattress and the giant, rust-colored couch. But at least the couch was comfortable—if you could get past the smell of Pine-Sol and pot roast. Despite the mildly strange aroma, she slept on it most nights to avoid the lumps and broken springs of the mattress.

The old woman had also collected roosters. Big roosters. Little roosters. Rooster clocks. Rooster canisters. Rooster bookends. Rooster coasters.

Jordan had died and gone to rooster hell.

To steady herself, she put a hand against a wall and kicked off her shoes. She shrugged out of the jacket he’d put around her. “You’re probably a nice guy, and I get that you feel some sort of misguided responsibility for bringing me home, but I’m not comfortable having you stay here. I just need to rest.”

Turning toward him, she caught his gaze traveling up her body. His intense stare scorched her as effectively as a branding iron. From her ankles to her eyes, her skin flushed hot.

For several long heartbeats, silent heat radiated between them. It was entirely possible that her breathing had stopped altogether. Just when she thought her legs might give out, he whipped his head in the opposite direction, turning his interest to a rooster cuckoo clock hanging on the wall.

He scratched his forehead and turned back to her. The sexy mischief in his eyes made her stomach tumble again. “Look, the nurse said someone needs to be here to check on you. I know you’re uncomfortable having a man you don’t know well in your…um…
place
.”

He poked his tongue at his cheek, no doubt trying to control his amusement as he took in the crappy furnishings. “But I’m not comfortable being the guy who took you to the ER and ignored very specific instructions not to leave you alone.”

The jerk was all but laughing at her, or at least her roosters. It would never have been the kind of place featured in
Better Homes and Gardens
, but it was spotless and functional.
Mostly
. He didn’t need to be rude.

“I hate to break it to you, cowboy, but you staying here was never in the cards. I only told the nurse that so she wouldn’t give me any trouble about leaving the hospital.”

“You put it in the cards when you said I’d take care of you. If something happens, I’m responsible. It’ll take someone in town about two minutes to finger me as the guy who took you home. If you have a girlfriend you can call to come over, then I’ll go.” He plopped down on her couch. “Otherwise, I’m staying.”

Man, she wanted to stick a pin in his over-inflated ego.
No
, she didn’t have a girlfriend to call, nor did she want one while she was on a job. Bahan was enough of a pain in the ass.

“Fine,” she said. “Suit yourself. But if you’re staying”—she gestured to the kitchen—“I need coffee.”

Half an hour later, they sat on opposite ends of the sofa, sipping coffee, but Ty’s voice had lost most of the good-natured charm it held earlier. Perfect. With exhaustion closing in on both of them despite the caffeine, it wouldn’t be long until she convinced him to leave.

“You’ve been really nice, but I’m fine. Go home and get some rest. Don’t you have to work or something?”

He exhaled. “This is not the most flattering admission, but I’m in between careers right now. When I was a cop in Longdale, my chief and I didn’t see eye to eye. Long story, but I’m moving on.”

She glanced at him. Mr. Controlling had walked out on a police career with no backup plan? Must’ve been one hell of a fight with his chief. Or he was lying. She let the silence hang between them. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Sorry. I know it can be frustrating, especially financially, being unemployed.”

“Well, I’m good there. My whole family lives in town, so I’m not planning on living out of a cardboard box anytime soon.” He grinned, but his finger tapped nervously on the arm of the sofa. “I’ll always have a roof over my head. But to answer your question, I don’t have anywhere to be. How ’bout you? What do you do when you’re not serving drinks?”

“I’m a business student at Lincoln U in Cooper.”

“A student?” He smiled and shook his head. “I hadn’t pictured you the number-crunching type.”

No kidding
. She couldn’t picture it, either. Eager to ignore his insight, she said, “So, do you hang out at Buck’s much?”

“Not really. It wouldn’t be my first choice of places to hang out.” He fidgeted and turned to face her.

Something was off; his eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers. He was working up the nerve to say something, she’d lay money on it.

His jaw clenched. He raked a hand back through his hair, and his eyes went flat. “I realize you don’t know me well, but I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and…well…you need to reconsider working at Buck’s. Especially after last night. It’s not a good place for a woman like you.”

Geez, she must have been playing the part well, because he thought she was an idiot. “Ty, despite what happened, I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless. It’s a fine place for a woman like me.”

“It’s not. You need to get the hell out, the sooner, the better.”

She tilted her head and studied him. No gentle persuasion in his voice. No polite suggestion, just anger. Hmm. Interesting. And then it hit her
.

He knew something.

The devastatingly handsome guy who almost passed for caring and noble fucking
knew
something.

It was those eyes that had slipped right under her radar. She’d been trying to figure out why he sent her composure into a tailspin, but now all the red flags made sense. He was a cop—ex-cop—who’d worked for the Longdale Police Department and hung at Buck’s. The FBI suspected the local cops were in league with Buck. Could Tyler McGee be one of Buck’s protectors?

Her chest ached at the thought of him involved with a drug ring. He’d been so kind, so caring, but she had to push. “Okay, I’ll bite.” She sat her coffee mug down and shifted to face him. “Exactly what kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Damn it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Frustrated. Nervous. Angry. It was all there. How the hell had she missed it?

“The people who hang out and work at Buck’s? Let’s just say it’s a rough crowd.” He stood and started pacing her tiny apartment. “Have you taken a good look around there? The place is nothing but trouble.”

“Why? Because the women strip? Since I wear a bikini top, I must have asked for what happened tonight?”

“I’m a man, Jordan. I’ve got no problem seeing a beautiful woman wearing a bikini top and waiting tables. Or dancing, for that matter. But surely you’re not naive enough to think Buck’s control ends when your shift does.”

What did this guy know? He was trying to warn her about something. His anger was palpable; she could feel it as sharply as the pain radiating through her back.

“Is that how you want everyone in town to see you? As one of”—he made quote signs in the air—“Buck’s girls?”

“I haven’t been there long, but most of”—she imitated his finger quotes—“Buck’s girls are pretty nice women. Some maybe have a few problems, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“I’m not saying they’re bad people,” he corrected. “I’m saying Buck has sucked them in. One way or another, he owns them like property. That’s what he does. First, he pretends to be a friend. Gives them money, drugs, anything that will indebt them to him. Then the threats come.”

She made a conscious effort to play dumb. “Well, I don’t use drugs, and I haven’t borrowed any money from him, so I shouldn’t have a problem. I like it at Buck’s. School can be expensive. I make great tips, especially on weekend nights.”

“Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me. The money’s good enough to risk your safety? What do you think would’ve happened if Lewis grabbed you on the way to your car?”

Jordan stood and faced him. “I’d have protected myself. The way I’ve always done.”

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Like you did tonight? Naked and bleeding, face down on a strip club floor. Wake up, Jordan. Do you need me to draw you a picture of the danger inside that place?”

“You know, not everyone gets to quit their job and run home to Mommy and Daddy when things get rough.”

“Running home would be a lot better choice than the one you’ve made. Do your parents live around here? Do they have any idea what you’re doing to earn money?”

She drew back at the mention of her family. He’d struck the one nerve, even after all these years, that continued to be raw.

“My parents are dead. They’ve been dead for twenty years. So guess what? Nobody gets to tell me what I can do or where I can work. Least of all, you.”

He opened his mouth but obviously struggled with what to say. After a long, awkward moment, he said, “I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

She beat down the memories and faked composure. “Car crash.” She never wavered on the lie, never even blinked. But their conversation had turned in a direction that had become much too personal.

He stepped close and reached out his hand.

She moved back, throwing her own hands up to stop him. “My choices are all mine.” The last thing she needed was to feel the pity roll off of him when he touched her.

He dropped his arm but spoke softly. “I just want you to realize there are better choices out there.”

“I just want you to realize not everybody has the golden-boy, small-town upbringing you seem to have had. Not everybody has the safety net of family.”

“If this is about money, there are a few other places in town that I could check into—”

“Stop. You’ve only known me a few hours. I don’t need you to fix me. But you were right about one thing: I do need to rest. And you need to leave. Please lock the door on your way out.”

She hugged her arms close against her body and headed to the bedroom before her hard-won composure slipped, and the sting in her eyes betrayed her.

Shit!
She’d lost it. She’d never lost it on the job. Never. It was the headache and exhaustion and back pain that gave her such a stupid, irrational reaction.

The front door slammed. She jumped, but a huge wave of relief rolled through her.

Tomorrow she’d track him down and get back in his good graces. She could do that, right? Find him, talk to him. Figure out if he was connected to Buck in any way.

But tonight, all that she wanted was a few hours of sleep. “Screw it,” she murmured as she grabbed the aspirin bottle. She’d taken meds at the hospital, which meant her dreams were already likely to turn ugly. Might as well curb the pain if she was doomed anyway. And who knows, maybe she’d get lucky and just this once, there’d be no dreams.

…

A huge party. Hundreds of kids. Graduation decorations everywhere.

A beautiful girl twirls like a ballerina in the center of the room. Maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, with perhaps the longest, darkest hair in the world. Her smile glows almost as bright as her eyes.

She hasn’t graduated yet—not old enough—but some of her friends are graduating. A night filled with dancing and laughing and alcohol. A handsome guy in a ball cap hands her a beer. She laughs and bats her eyes at him, then flips her long, silken mane over her shoulder.

She walks past a group of boys, notices some are smoking. Others snort something through a small, clear straw.

The girl looks at the clock when it strikes midnight. She hugs a few friends and heads toward home.

Across the road.

Through the cornfield.

Up the stairs.

Her baby blue bedroom struggles between little girl and young lady. Dolls and teddy bears on the bed, but bras and panties litter the floor. Pennants hang on the wall with a cheerleading picture underneath them.

She smiles into the mirror, as if recognizing how perfect life is. Young enough to be a child. Old enough to drive a car.

Snuggled in bed, she barely hears the faint pinging at her window. Brushing the curtain back, she sees him: Mr. Handsome and his irresistible smile.

He must have followed her home. Now he stands in the shadows of moonlight and motions for her to come down.

She glances at the clock, then sneaks out to talk to him.