Chapter 6
Jess watched Mason open the door to his apartment with extreme caution. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. The reality of just how much danger she was in washed over her like ice cold water.
Who the hell was this guy she had shot?
Killed…
The idea she had taken a life still made her stomach roil. In her head she knew there had been no other way—he was prepared to kill her. She saw his murderous intent in the dark storms that brewed in his eyes. But it still bothered her that she had killed him.
Colonel Holt walked into the room and extended his hand to her. “How are you feeling today, Ms. Baylor? Did you get some rest?”
She ran her hands over her thighs, thankful for the yoga pants and pullover, before shaking his hand. “Some,” she said. “And please, call me Jess.”
“I believe you’ve met Riley already?”
“Yes, nice to see you again,” Jess said to the woman.
“The clothes fit, I see.”
Jess nodded.
“Jess, this is Lieutenant Colonel Ritt Knight,” Holt said.
A man about the same height as Mason--but with much less mass—and piercing blue eyes, shook her hand. He was good-looking, but was way too intense for Jess. He seemed angry, but she couldn’t imagine what she had done that pissed him off. “Everyone calls me Lance.”
Did everyone have a nickname in this group?
“Shall we sit?” Holt asked, and walked to one of the chairs next to the couch.
Mason sat on the couch next to Jess, but not too close. Geez, she got the impression that he thought she had some sort of disease and didn’t want to risk catching it. She knew it was a huge imposition to stay at his apartment, but none of this had been her idea. If she could suck it up and deal, why couldn’t he?
“I know you must have a lot of questions—and you’ve been very patient with us, so far…I need you to be patient just a little bit longer. I promise, once we get through all our questions, we will let you know what is going on, and try to answer any of your questions. Okay?” Holt asked. He was older than the other three. His black hair had a few streaks of gray, which just made him look distinguished. He was built similar to Lance, but had a darker shade of blue eyes, and a smile that calmed her. He reminded her of her father, but younger.
God, she missed her father. If he were alive, he’d know what to do…he’d protect her.
She pushed down the sudden grief that threatened to strangle her whenever she thought about her father. Now was not the time.
Jess nodded. “Yes, okay.”
“When we talked last night, you said you had never met Daniel Forrester before, but what about the three men at the table with him?”
“I didn’t really look at them too closely, but I don’t think I recognized any of them,” Jess said.
“Did Forrester happen to mention any of their names?”
“No, he was more interested in talking about him…and me. Like I told you last night, it wasn’t a very long conversation. I left pretty quickly after he refused to take the hint that I wasn’t interested.”
Jess glanced at Riley who gave her a slight head nod. Jess appreciated another woman being there. Not just to counter balance the high level of testosterone in the room, but because Riley offered some support of what all women go through when they’re single. Men assuming all women are interested in them.
“Did the three men come over to your table with Forrester?” Lance asked.
Jess wagged her head back and forth. “Just him. The other three stayed at their table.”
Riley set a file folder on the coffee table in front of her. “Would you recognize the men if you saw them in pictures?” she asked.
“I might…I really didn’t get a good look at them, and it was dark in the bar.”
Riley handed her a stack of photos. Jess flipped through them. The third picture looked like on of them. She tossed it on the table. Same with the fifth picture in the stack, and the ninth. “Those look like the men I saw.”
Riley picked up the photos, and passed them off to Lance, who was standing next to her.
After Holt had looked at the pictures, he handed them to Mason. “Do you know a man named Yurik Stepanov?”
Jess thought for a moment. “No.”
“Could he be a client of your design firm?” Riley asked.
“If he is, I don’t recognize the name.”
“Would you know the clients?” Lance asked. His eyes drilled into her as if he could see the answers before she spoke. It was unnerving as hell.
“If I worked with the clients—yes, but I didn’t know all the clients in the firm. Some would go to the other graphic artists and I wouldn’t have any contact with them.”
“I’m going to go through a list of names,” Holt said. “I want you to tell me if you recognize any of them.”
Jess took a deep breath and nodded.
“Andrew Kelly?”
Jess shook her head. “It’s sort of common, but I don’t recall knowing anyone by that name.”
“Alrick Orlov?”
“No.”
“Grigory Petrov?”
She shook her head. What’s with all the Russian names?
“What about William Hutton?”
Jess thought for a moment. The name sounded familiar…where had she heard it? Was he in the news? “Is he the senator that was arrested a few weeks ago?”
“What do you know about that case?” Lance asked.
“Just what I’ve seen on the news. Some issue with his charity giving money to terrorists—I think his trial is coming up soon—but, honestly, I didn’t pay that much attention to it.”
“Have you ever donated money to The Hutton Foundation?” Riley asked.
“No. I’d never heard of it before he was arrested.”
“Ever traveled to Russia?” Lance asked. Why did the guy make her feel like she was guilty of something? Did he think she hadn’t been justified in killing Forrester?
Maybe they had lied to her last night and Forrester was in the military. She really should’ve asked for a lawyer or something.
“Never been outside the U.S.—not even to Mexico or Canada.”
“Have any knowledge of a group known as the Russian Revolutionary Army?”
What the hell? Why would he think she knew all these Russians and some Russian Whatever Army?
“Never heard of it.” She shifted in her seat. If there were many more questions, she was going to insist on legal representation. All of this was making her very uncomfortable.
Holt smiled. “Okay, that’s it for our questions—for now,” he grinned at her. “I can’t promise we won’t have any follow-ons in the future.” He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees and inhaled deeply. “Unfortunately, Jess, we believe the man you shot may have been part of a terrorist organization.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you mean—you believe he may be part of it?”
“The man we believe is his father is one of the leaders of a Russian terrorist organization.” Lance said.
“The one you mentioned?” Jess asked.
“Yes,” Holt confirmed. “And it seems he is very interested in finding you.”
“Why?”
“He’s not happy you killed his son and is looking for payback,” Mason said. It was the first time he had spoken since they sat down, and his voice caught her off-guard.
“Wait—are you saying he wants to kill me because I killed his son?”
“He’s made threats and we want to make sure he doesn’t follow through on any of them,” Holt tried to reassure her.
“So, what does this mean? Will I have to go into like a witness protection program or something?”
“We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that, but it is a possibility. For now, we’ll keep you here—safe—and flush out Mr. Stepanov before he can find you. It’s imperative, however, that you not have any contact with anyone from your past.”
“So, I can’t go to work?”
“No,” Holt said.
“What about my friends?”
“You won’t be able to contact them for a while, I’m afraid.”
“But they’ll worry about me. What if they go to the police?”
“We’ll worry about that when and if we need to,” Riley said. “What’s most important is for you to remain safe. We need you to try to remember anything you can—that you may have missed—about the night in the bar. The more information we have, the sooner this will all be over.”
“But your safety is our top priority right now,” Lance said. It was the first time he had spoken with any sort of compassion in his voice.
Jess still wasn’t sure how she felt about him, though, and thought she’d just as soon stay away from him. She guessed it was a good thing he was on her side, because he didn’t look like he ever had a sunny disposition.
Hell, neither did Mason, for that matter. The only male that seemed agreeable was Colonel Holt.
Jess slumped back into the couch. The weight of what she’d just learned sat heavy on her shoulders. No contact with friends…no going to work…unable to be around people she knew and loved for god only knew how long.
This sucks…
“Wait—what about my friends? Caribbean and Laura were at the bar, too? Are they okay?” Panic rose in her chest and fire lit through her veins.
“They both gave statements at the police station and left without incident.”
Mason placed his hand on her shoulder. “Stepanov only seems to be interested in you, Jess.”
Warmth spread through her, easing some of the tension, and providing more comfort than she’d had since she shot Forrester. She met Mason’s eyes and found it hard to look away. Some connection clicked into place between them. She felt as if he would do anything to make sure she was safe.
How could one touch tell her so much about the man?
* * *
Mason made his way back up the stairs to his apartment after walking Holt, Lance, and Riley out to their cars. They all agreed that Jess had no involvement with the RRA or any of the members. She was an unfortunate soul that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And killed the wrong person.
Now her life as she knew it would had ended. Even if she managed to stay alive—and Mason was damned determined that would happen—she would never be able to go back to her old life. Jess Baylor essentially died when she shot Daniel Forrester.
Mason felt bad for her. And his compassion mixed with bewilderment. In less than forty-eight hours, she had been attacked, forced to kill a man, taken into custody, was being held by people she had never met before, and was still able to function as a normal human being. Too many people Mason had met would’ve been curled in the corner, rocking themselves, and sucking a thumb.
But nothing had shocked him more than when he touched her. Literally. A bolt of electricity hit him square in the chest, and sent fire through his veins. He worried that others may have felt the shift in the air, because he certainly had a hard time breathing after that, but no one seemed to notice.
Had Jess felt it too?
She seemed to be a little more relaxed after that, but it was hard to tell. She may just be settling into the fact that she was going to be his roommate for a while longer. The day before, that had pissed Mason off.
What a difference a day makes. He was actually happy—relieved, even—she was going to be around for a little longer.
He found Jess in the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets. “Whatcha looking for?” Mason asked.
“Anything I can use to make dinner,” she said, opened, then almost immediately closed the refrigerator door, and spun toward him. “You have nothing here.”
“I know.”
“Do you eat?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t get to be my size without eating a whole lotta calories per day.”
“Touche,” she said and chuckled. “What do you eat?”
“Whatever I grab while I’m out.” He shrugged when she scrunched up her nose. “I don’t cook.”
“Well, you’re in luck because I do.” She grabbed a pen and notepad from the built-in desk in the kitchen, and started writing on it. When she was done, she glanced up at him. “I’m assuming you won’t let me go to the grocery store?”
“Nope, too public. Too many cameras. We need to keep you under-wraps until we know more about what’s going on.”
“Thought so. Okay, well, here is a list of things I need.”
Mason looked at it, nervous he was going to have to purchase feminine hygiene products. “This is all food.”
“Yes, I know. I’m going to cook dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can order pizza. Or Chinese. Whatever you like.”
“I like to cook. It helps calm me down and unclutters my brain.”
A woman who loved to cook…I may be in love.
“Far be it for me to stand in the way of your mental health.” He grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed towards the door. “Do not open this for anyone. Period.”
“Not even you?” She asked and snorted. Her cheeks pinked, and the little ball of fire in Mason’s chest flared. Damn, she’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.
“I have keys,” he said, jingling them. When he got to the door, he turned around. “Almost forgot. If you have any issues, there’s a gun in the drawer.” He pointed to the table next to the couch. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
She paled, and he wished he could take back that joke.
Too soon, dumbass.
He opened the door and stepped outside. “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
Mason leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied groan. Jess had made beef stroganoff with roasted brussel sprouts. Normally, Mason would’ve turned up his nose at the little alien heads, but the way Jess made them—he was pretty sure they had moved to the top of his favorite vegetable list.
She chuckled as she set a plate of chocolate frosted brownies chock full of walnuts and chocolate chunks on the table. Mason took a bite of one and nearly had an orgasm. If he’d had a ring, he would’ve proposed to her on the spot.
“I’m ruined,” he said, picking up a second brownie. “You have ruined me for anyone else’s cooking.”
“Well, it’s the least I can do, since you’re putting me up…or putting up with me.” One corner of her mouth tipped up and her eyes shimmered.
Damn…she needs to stop looking as delectable as this brownie. A vision of her covered in frosting while Mason’s tongue licked every bit of it off gave him a hard-on.
Holy hell, I’m in trouble.
Popping the last morsel of brownie in his mouth, he stood picked up his plate, and grabbed Jess’s plate from her hands. “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said. “I’ll just see what’s on TV.”
He was actually amazed at how clean the kitchen was. Apparently, Jess cleaned up after herself as she went. The dishwasher was partially loaded, and Mason only had to add their dishes, and a couple of serving bowls. There hadn’t been any leftovers, so that eliminated having to put anything else away.
Turning the dishwasher on, he grabbed another brownie. “Hey, you want another brownie before I polish them off?”
Silence.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him over the sound of the dishwasher. He walked into the living room. “Yo, Jess, you want another—”
She sat on the couch, hand over her mouth, eyes as big as saucers, staring at the TV. He glanced at the screen. An exterior shot of an old Victorian house in a suburb of Providence. A good portion of the houses in that area were converted into apartments.
The camera went to a young male reporter with perfectly shellacked hair. “Earlier today, police were called to this apartment building in Fox Hill after reports of a gunshot being fired. A search of the property uncovered the body of a woman. According to police, Caribbean Meda, a local physical therapist, was shot in the chest. The medical examiner pronounced her dead at the scene. Interestingly, Ms. Meda was an acquaintance of Jess Baylor, who was involved in a shooting two nights ago outside a bar in downtown Providence. Ms. Baylor was released from police custody and cannot be located. Suffice it to say, the police are anxious to talk to her regarding this shooting, which is eerily similar to the death of Daniel Forrester.”
Fuck!
Tears streamed down Jess’s face, but she hadn’t moved since Mason entered the room. He slid next to her on the couch, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She was pale, and Mason was concerned she’d stopped breathing.
Jesus, they had assured her a few hours ago that her friends were okay. Now, one of them was dead. And it looked as if the police were content to blame it on Jess.
“Jess, I’m sorry.”
She stood, surprising the shit out of Mason. Unsteadily, she walked across the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He heard the door close with a soft click.
What now?
Mason had never been good at providing comfort and support. But his heart shredded at the thought of Jess in pain, and he wanted desperately to make everything okay.
He fished his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for Lance.
“Did you see the news?” Mason asked when Lance answered.
“Yeah, Riley and I were just watching it.”
“Why the fuck didn’t the police give us a heads up? They know Jess is with us.”
“The boss is trying to find that out as we speak.”
Good…Holt would grab them by the balls and twist until they begged for release.
“How’s Jess?” Lance asked.
“Not good. In fact, she hasn’t said a word. Just went into the bathroom. I need to go check on her.” Mason glanced down the hall at the bathroom door. “Hey, she’s going to ask me about her other friend. What am I supposed to tell her?”
“Let her know we have people on the way to Laura’s place to make sure she’s okay.”
“All right,” Mason said. “Keep me posted.”