The McCullagh Inn in Maine (4 page)

Later that night,
I was on a ladder, shoving a pry bar between the last of the wood paneling in the living room, when headlights hit my window. I sighed and shoved harder, successfully knocking down a portion of the dated wood, sending a puff of dust flying through the air in the process. I let out an exasperated breath, because I had no doubt who had just pulled into my driveway.

It had to be Jeremy.

Clearly, my warning to stay away hadn't taken.

I hopped off the ladder and removed my dust mask, heading for the door. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the upside-down bucket and uncapped it, swallowing a mouthful before setting it back down. My body still hummed from the orgasm he'd given me. Even though I wanted him to stay away from me and the danger surrounding me, my traitorous heart sped up at the thought of seeing him.

No matter how logically I looked at the situation, one thing wouldn't change: My body remembered Jeremy Holland, and it wanted more of his touch.

Much more
.

A girl could only save a guy from herself so many times before she stopped trying.

Being a good person didn't come naturally to me, and resisting temptation wasn't my strong suit. Eventually, I'd stop pushing him away.

And then he'd be in as much danger as I was.

Footsteps sounded on the porch as I swung the door open. “You just can't take no for an—” I broke off, the words choking me, because it wasn't Jeremy on my doorstep this time.

It was a cop.

Oh, shit. They
knew
. They found me.

“Chelsea Adams?”

“Wh—?” I blinked. Chelsea Adams…?
Paul
. He'd come through. “Y-yes?”

“I'm Officer North. I'm afraid your brother has been attacked.” He removed his hat. “He told an officer you're his sister, and his emergency contact.”

Paul. Oh God.

Paul was the only family I had left who wasn't behind bars, and I couldn't lose him. “What happened? Where is he?”

“He was jumped outside his office, on his way to come see you.” The officer fiddled with his hat, as if unsure where to look or how to act around me. “He's in pretty bad shape, but he should recover. I can take you to him, miss, and the doctors can tell you more.”

“I'll drive myself,” I said quickly, reaching for my keys.

“Ma'am?” He leaned in, locking eyes with me. I stiffened, because I didn't need him all up in my face. “I can smell the whiskey from here. I think it's best I drive.”

My cheeks flushed and I nodded, ducking my head down. In my worry, I'd completely forgotten about that. That wasn't like me. Then again, I'd done a lot of uncharacteristic things these past few days…my behavior with Jeremy was just the most recent example. “Right. Thank you.”

The ride in the cop car was filled with awkward silence. For a moment I reveled in the novelty of riding in the front for a change. Then I started quietly panicking. Paul had just been attacked, and the timing was a coincidence, right? My brother had his fair share of enemies. I shouldn't jump to the conclusion that this was the work of the people after me.

But when I walked in the room and saw Paul lying in the hospital bed, I knew. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and parts of his head were shaved, with thick bandages covering wounds. A thin white blanket concealed most of his body, but I could see that both of Paul's thumbs were splinted. I knew what that meant.

They were here.

Jeremy pushed through
the doors of the hospital, his heart racing as he dodged an old guy in a wheelchair. Nurses in colorful scrubs walked the halls, some clearly at the beginning of their shift, others obviously at the end. One of them, someone he vaguely recognized from high school, smiled at him as she passed, so he nodded back politely. People sat in those horrible plastic chairs in cramped waiting rooms, waiting to find out if they were losing someone they loved today.

He hated hospitals.

They reeked of desperation and death.

When he'd heard of the attack on Paul, his stomach had sunk. This wasn't supposed to be
happening,
damn it. He pushed the elevator button harder than necessary, tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently.
“Come on,”
he growled.

He needed to see her in one piece.

With his own eyes.

The second the doors started to open, he slipped through the crack, hitting the button for the third floor before anyone could join him. Paul had already been admitted, and word was that he'd be in the hospital for a good couple of weeks.

Paul had been beaten and tortured.

It was a miracle he was still alive.

The only reason Paul was still breathing: He was a message. A warning. One intended for his sister, and one
Jeremy
intended to take very seriously.

The doors to the elevator opened and he took a left, heading toward Paul's room. They hadn't spoken much over the years, but Jeremy had kept tabs on him. As he approached the room he slowed, walking lightly when he heard the sound of Chelsea's voice. He stopped just short of the door, where he could see them without being seen.

She spoke again and her voice washed over him like the first warm spring rain after a long, cold winter. Creeping closer, he stole a quick peek. She sat beside Paul, resting her hand on his arm gently, talking so quietly he had to struggle to hear her words. He was taken back to a time when he'd gotten his appendix out and she hadn't left his side as he recovered. Why hadn't he understood what she meant to him back then? How could he have been such a fool to lose her?

History wouldn't repeat itself this time.

“…and that's why you were attacked tonight. They're trying to flush me out.”

“Shit, Chels,” Paul growled.

Jeremy couldn't see her face, but her shoulders were drooped, and her head was as low as her voice. “I'm sorry. I never intended for this to happen, for you to get dragged into my fight. If I'd known they would do this…”

“I know.” Paul stared at her, his bruised face looking like a sick artistic interpretation of a face rather than the real thing. “How are we going to get out of this mess?”

“There's no we, just me—” She stopped midsentence, stiffening. He held his breath. Something told him she'd discovered his presence. Or rather, sensed
someone
standing there, listening. Now she would clam up. “How did they get the drop on you?”

“What? Why—” Paul stared at her, then nodded once, glancing toward the door. I stepped back quickly, heart racing. Damn them and their silent communication. “I was leaving the DMV—” He broke off, wincing. “They came out of nowhere.”

She nodded, smoothing his hair out of his face tenderly. “Criminals are good at that.”

Footsteps approached, so Jeremy slid into the empty room next to Paul's, holding his breath. After a moment, the door to Paul's room shut, and he heard Chelsea say, “They're gone.”

Jeremy pressed his ear to the thin wall.

“Assholes,” Paul said. “How did you get mixed up with those guys anyway?”

“It's not like I meant to,” she practically whispered.

“They were trying to find out if I knew where you were. I told them the truth, that we hadn't talked in years. That last I heard, you were some kind of hotshot lawyer down in Miami. I think they bought it, but you should leave, Chels. They might have someone watching the hospital.”

“Shit,” Chelsea said after a long pause. Jeremy could picture her sitting there, covering her face, looking exhausted as hell.

“Yeah. ‘Shit' is right. The cartels don't mess around. And with what you did, they might never stop looking.”

She sighed loud enough for Jeremy to hear it through the wall. “I did what I had to do, Paul. But you know what, it doesn't matter. You're right, I need to leave. Find someplace else to hide out.”

Anger rushed through Jeremy's veins and he balled his hands at his sides. No.
Hell, no
. He didn't come back from Bangor for her only to watch her skip town.

She was right where he needed her to be.

After Paul drifted
off into a morphine-induced sleep, I sat by the bed in the white room with fluorescent lights overhead, watching over him with dry, weary eyes. This was on
me
. I had assumed they would be too busy dealing with the mess I'd left behind to chase after me already. Paul had paid the price for my mistake. It was my duty to make sure it didn't happen again.

At least three people had stopped by to check on him, so news was traveling fast. After the third drop-in, I requested that no one else be allowed in, so Paul could rest.

“Chels?” Jeremy said from behind me.

I stiffened, closed my eyes, and prayed for the patience the good Lord had never given me. “How many times do I have to tell you to
leave me alone
before you finally listen?”

“Is he okay?” he asked me, coming into the room and completely ignoring my words…as usual. Sometimes I wondered if he even heard them. “What happened?”

“Some punks jumped him outside his office,” I said quickly, sticking close enough to the truth. While I thought I was an excellent liar, Jeremy did always have an uncanny knack for knowing when I was stretching the truth. “It wasn't enough to just mug him, they had to beat him, too. Assholes.”

Jeremy came up beside me, staring at Paul with a furrowed brow. His hands were in his pockets, and his jaw was hard. “Some street kids took the time to break his thumbs?”

“Yeah.” I gripped my knees, staring at my brother's hands. Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back. Now wasn't the time or the place to lose it. “Sick, right?”

His mouth pressed into a thin, tight line. “Unbelievable.” After a few moments, he let out a long breath and put his hand on my shoulder. “Let me take you home.”

“I can manage on my own.”

“That wasn't a question. You're exhausted, and sitting here worrying isn't going to help Paul. You need to rest.”

“No.” I pulled free, my heart racing and my skin burning where Jeremy had touched me. His hand stayed open, palm up and empty between us. “I need to make sure they don't come back.”

“Why would a bunch of ‘punks' go to all the trouble of sneaking into a hospital to attack Paul again?” he asked, his perfect brown brow arching. I hated when he did that. “I feel there's something you're not telling me. Am I right?”

“Of course you'd think that,” I muttered, knowing I was skating on the edge of giving him information he didn't need to know. “No. I'm just being paranoid. I'm worried about my brother.”

“He has a police guard.” He pointed out the door and I looked. Sure enough, there was a uniform outside his door. Weird. Wouldn't Paul love to know that law enforcement was lurking? The officer waved at me and I blinked at him before I recognized him. His name was…uh…Harry? No,
Larry
. He'd asked me to prom. I'd gone with Jeremy. I should've gone with Larry instead. “Paul will be fine on his own tonight. I want to make sure you're okay.”

I crossed my arms, forcing my attention off the officer and back to Jeremy. Paul would have to deal with it, because having a police presence around was actually calming me. For once. “I love how you continue to think that I give a damn what you want these days.”

With that, I moved closer to Paul's side, intent on ignoring Jeremy. He'd get bored watching me watch Paul sleep soon enough.

“Fine. You want to stay?” He walked over to the other chair in the room. It had been in the corner, but he dragged it right next to mine and sat. “Then we'll stay.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, his heel brushing my thigh because he was so close, and leaned back as if he didn't have a worry in the whole world. “It's been ten years since we had a sleepover. And that last one was…
eye-opening,
to say the least.”

I still couldn't wrap my head around the chain of events that had led us here, or what it all meant. Jeremy had chosen me over Mary. He was still choosing me. I guess, in a way, he always had. His mother had hated me because of my father, but Jeremy had never cared, always keeping his bedroom window unlocked for me whenever I needed to get away from my family. He had loved me. Of course, he apparently didn't realize he was
in
love with me until I decided enough was enough and left. Jeremy was the love of my life.

But, man, he could be such a
guy
.

“Yeah, that night was definitely eye-opening.” I looked back at Paul for any signs of distress. He didn't so much as twitch. The beeping of his heart monitor remained slow and steady. “Despite, y'know, earlier, I have no interest in repeating history.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Glad we're on the same page.”

He leaned forward, resting a hand on my thigh. His brown hair fell on his forehead, and his piercing green eyes called for me to give him what he wanted—me. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, and his huge arms strained against the fabric of the shirt. He was so strong, so steady, and I ached to borrow some of that strength. To let him take care of me…

Again.

“You misunderstand me.” Hesitantly, he reached out, cupping my cheek. “I plan on kissing you again, but I have no intention of losing you this time, Chels.”

I stiffened, holding my breath, because having him here, touching me, made it oh-so-tempting to lean on him for support. Just like he wanted. Just like I
couldn't
. I wasn't that naïve girl who believed in love anymore. I lurched to my feet, shaking off his touch. If only it was as easy to lose the emotional hold he had on me. “What's it going to take to get rid of you?”

He smirked. “Easy. Let me take you home.”

“Done.” I grabbed my purse, checking to make sure the officer was still there. He was, and he looked a hell of a lot more alert than I felt. “And then you leave me the hell alone. Look forward, and leave the past where it belongs.”

Every moment I spent with him was another moment he crept closer to my heart and threatened the new beginning I was fighting so hard for. Every moment brought danger and risk to things I wasn't willing to lose.

Like his
life
.