Kaleidoscope (Colorado Mountain #6)(57)

“Okay,” she said on a sigh.

“No phones, Emme,” he warned. “Your cell only if you know who’s callin’. But other than that, your dad or someone else mans the phones. You good with that?”

“Don’t you think Dane has enough problems, imminently losing his job being another one, that he won’t be thinking about bothering me?”

She just wouldn’t get this. Then again, she’d twisted in her head that the whackjob who snatched her from a playground at school was a good, kind guy.

But he saw the photos of her with McFarland. She was affectionate and enjoyed affection. He was over the top. He gave her a stolen ring to press his suit. He’d used his one phone call to phone her, not an attorney, not a relative, not anyone who could do something for him, but Emme to talk about whatever the f**k he wanted to discuss with her, being incarcerated and knowing she knew he gave her a stolen ring.

This guy was bad news. Deck felt it in his gut. He was not the ringleader of that crazy shit. But he was stupid enough to get pulled in. And stupid enough to do something for a woman he was gagging for that would bring them all down.

The rest of that crew, they found out about the ring, if they didn’t already know, were going to be pretty f**king angry.

He needed McFarland’s focus off Emme and he needed to be certain no other focus turned to her.

Shit like this went warped in a blink of an eye, and people like Emme got caught up in it in ways no one would imagine if someone didn’t pay attention.

He stopped at his door of his truck, hand on the handle but turned his sole attention on her.

“I get you don’t want to think bad things about anybody, about bad shit that may be comin’ your way or about a guy you spent time with, baby,” he said quietly. “But I’m asking you if we can end this go-round we got goin’ about this guy, and to do that, I’m askin’ you to trust me. Be safe and be safe by lettin’ me keep you safe however I gotta do that. Now, do you trust me?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before she said, “I’m sorry, honey. I’m being obstinate about this and I don’t know why. Maybe denial.”

“How about you don’t think about it, let me think about it, and you just go about your day. Yeah?”

“It’s… it’s… this is really cool of you, Jacob,” she said, her voice now soft. “We just started. We should be about fun stuff, not you having Dane always in your face. This is a pain and—”

“Babe, just starting or not, this isn’t a pain. You’re in my life, when it comes to you, this is my job. You get a good man, he’ll think of it that way. And he won’t give a f**k it’s a pain.”

To that he got nothing.

So he called, “Emme?”

“I really like you,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes as her words made his blood heat.

He opened them and yanked open his door.

“I really like you too,” he replied.

“I’m glad.” She was still whispering.

“Go talk to your dad,” he ordered.

“Okay, honey. When are you coming ’round and are you bringing Buford or going back for him after dinner?”

“Your dad know I’m spending the night?”

“Yes, and please don’t worry about that. I’m thirty-four. He’s not stupid. He’s got three other kids older than me and has been through this before prior to them being seriously dressed up in a church. Not to mention, he thinks you can draw up the plans in your mind for a spaceship that can get us to Mars in four hours not four years at the same time go three rounds with Mike Tyson and best him. He’s not got a problem with you spending the night.”

As she was speaking, he’d angled in his truck and closed the door.

Well before she was done, he was smiling at his steering wheel.

“Good to know,” he murmured then said, “Don’t want Buford ambling around your house alone first time he’s there. Also don’t want him to sit in a cold truck while we’re eatin’. I’ll swing back by my house after dinner and get him.”

“All right.”

“Gonna let you go.”

“Okay, honey. Talk to you later.”

“I’ll be at your house around four thirty.”

“Works for me.”

“Good, baby. See you then.”

“Okay, Jacob. ’Bye.”

“Later, honey.”

He disconnected with a smile still on his lips and he was about to toss his cell on the seat beside him when it rang.

The display said “Lee Nightingale calling.”

He put the phone to his ear. “Lee.”

“Yo, Deck. You got time to talk?” Lee replied.

“Yeah,” Deck answered, settling back, eyes scanning the area outside his windshield, attention on the phone.

“Did what you asked, set Hector on it, got a verbal report this morning,” Lee told him.

“Give it to me,” Deck invited.

“Harvey Feldman. Sixty-one years of age. Did a nickel for kidnapping, refused to be considered for parole. Did the whole run, his decision. Got out, did his stint in a halfway house. Got a job. Got a house. House paid in full now. Car paid in full. Bills paid on time. Taxes filed on time. Goes to work on time. No sick days. Stellar performance evaluations. Well liked at work. Not a loner. Goes out for drinks with the boys. Looks after his neighbor’s cat when she’s on vacation. Mows his other neighbor’s yard ’cause she’s eighty-nine and refuses to go into a nursing home. Described as kind of quiet, but friendly, and kind. Although not a loner, never remarried. No one’s ever seen him even datin’. Puts money in a 401K that’ll mean his retirement will be comfortable but he won’t be in the lap of luxury.”