Long Road Home(15)

The Jules who had left, the ready-to-take-on-the-world girl who wanted to do and see it all, was a far cry from the wounded woman he now faced.

He mixed the batter, adding the ingredients mechanically. At his side, his cell phone vibrated. Wiping his hands, he stole a quick glance at Jules before backing toward the pantry where he would be out of her sight. He snapped up the phone. “Make it quick,” he said in a low voice.

“You get to the cabin yet?”

“Yeah, we’re here.”

“You want what info I have now, or you want to call me back later?”

Manuel expelled a long rush of air. “Let me call you back. I want to hear what she has to say first.”

“Okay, give me a holler when you’re ready.”

“Is it bad?” Manuel asked, suddenly aware that he was holding his breath.

Silence settled over the line. “It ain’t exactly good,” Tony finally said. “By the way. A heads-up. Sanderson is going to give you a call in a few. He wants to know what the hell is going on. I’ve played dumb, but I know he’s not buying it.”

Manuel quietly ended the call and stuck the phone back in his pocket. Why it was so important that he hear it from Jules he wasn’t sure. But it had to come from her. He wanted to be looking her in the face when he found out what the hell had happened three years ago. And maybe he wanted to see how honest she would be with him.

On cue, the phone rang again. Manuel saw it was Sanderson and answered.

His boss cut straight to the point. “Manuel, what do you have to report?”

“Nothing yet, sir. I’m still in Denver.”

“Do you need more agents on this?” Sanderson asked.

Panic crept up Manuel’s spine. “No, sir. I want to do this. I need to. I’ll find her.”

“All right. Keep me posted. You’ve got three days, Manuel. Then I call in backup.”

The phone went dead, and Manuel cursed vividly under his breath. Three days. It wasn’t much time to cover three years. He shoved his phone in his pocket and went in search of Jules.

“Soup’s on,” he called, rounding the corner into the living room. He looked at the empty sofa. Fuck! He glanced around the room, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her standing by the fireplace.

“Jules?” He crossed the floor and put a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around, her eyes flaring for a moment.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. Your pancakes are ready.”

She flashed a smile that didn’t reach any higher than the corners of her mouth. “Can’t wait.”

She followed him back and sat down at the table. He put a plate heaped high with pancakes in front of her then took a seat across from her.

He watched as she picked at the food, nibbling a few bites. She looked away most of the time, never at him, never meeting his gaze. Perhaps she knew the time had come.

Still, he waited. He wanted her to eat and relax her guard before they bared their souls. And truth be known, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what had happened to her. How cowardly of him to be so afraid to know what she had been forced to endure.

If she had been forced.

Her last words to him echoed in his mind, the phone call, the last time he’d spoken to her. Her fear, her terror. It ate at him. Had eaten at him for the last three years. He’d imagined the most awful scenarios, and he prayed that none of them were true.

When she finally shoved the plate away, she looked up at him, and he locked gazes with her. “You know it’s time for us to talk.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

He reached over and took her hand. “Don’t be frightened, Jules. You don’t ever have to be afraid again.”

Still holding her hand, he helped her up and led her into the living room. “Sit down. I’ll build us a fire.”

He quickly stacked wood from the box over a few pieces of kindling then struck a match. In a few seconds, a steady flame licked up over the logs.

Returning to Jules, he settled beside her, his gaze sweeping over her face. She was so fragile-looking he feared touching her. She looked poised to break into a million tiny pieces, and he wondered not for the first time how hard he should press.

He pushed a strand of hair over her ear and let his palm rest against her cheek. “Talk to me, baby.”

Her eyes were enormous in her face. Fear, fatigue, apprehension. They all crowded to the front.

Wanting to put her at ease, he pulled her against him, feeling her heart beat frantically against his chest. He stroked her hair then moved his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

Her arms crept around him, and his chest tightened uncomfortably. How long he had waited for this moment. For her to be in his arms where she belonged.

Jules tentatively burrowed into his embrace, seeking comfort she’d long been denied. His broad chest cradled her cheek, and she nuzzled deeper into his muscled hardness. She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to unleash her tightly held demons.

She’d held them close for so long, they clawed at her, seeking release. If she hated herself so much, how could everyone else not do the same?

His warm hand cupped her chin and slowly forced her to look up at him. “I can’t help myself,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.

But the past was burning too brightly in her mind. All she saw were the shadows closing in around her. Frightening images. Suffocating memories.