Burn It Up(42)

He had two phones on him this morning—his relatively public one that the Desert Dogs and Abilene had the number for, then the shady untraceable one that Emily and his other bygone business contacts—and now James Ware—had. And he knew which was ringing now from the mere pitch of the buzzing at his hip. If it was Ware, the guy had one f*cking massive nerve on him.

Casey swerved to a hairy stop at the shoulder of the quiet highway and killed his engine, whipped the phone out. Private, as always.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Ware. I’m ready to talk.”

Casey laughed into the bright morning light, steam rising. “Oh, are you? That’s f*cking hilarious, considering how shy you got last night.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Who told you where she was staying?”

“Listen, Grossier, I got no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just following your f*cking orders here. You going to facilitate this shit or what?”

“You tell me which motherf*cker told you where she’s at, and maybe we’ll find out.”

“Listen,” Ware said again, voice jabbing like a finger in the sternum. “I got f*ck-all clue what you think I got up to last night, but whatever it is, you’ve got it wrong. Now, you tell me how this is going to work, and I’ll play by your rules. Just let me talk to her. I’m way better at threats than begging, but hey, I’ll pucker up and kiss your ass and say pretty please, if that’s what it’s going to goddamn take.”

Casey frowned, a touch upended. Stay cool. Don’t f*ck up. Don’t mention the ranch. “Fine. A phone call. You call this number at nine o’clock sharp, tonight, and I’ll have her there.” Arguing with the guy himself wasn’t getting anybody any closer to figuring out his game, anyhow.

“Fine,” Ware spat. “Nine o’clock.”

“Fine,” Casey echoed, and ended the call. He bellowed a cuss up into the blue sky, resisted the urge to slam that f*cking phone down against the asphalt.





Chapter 12


The sky outside the guest room was bright blue as Abilene’s eyes blinked open, the day already in full swing. Her stomach rumbled. Best to get herself fed before the baby got the same idea.

She dressed Mercy in a fleece onesie and lugged her out onto the landing, smelling bacon. No doubt any leftovers would be cold by now, any eggs already devoured, but a cup of coffee and some toast would be welcome. And some company.

Casey had woken her when he’d risen at five, but she’d pretended to be asleep. She’d strained for a muttered cuss, for any tiny sign that he might have regretted waking up in her bed, but nothing. He’d just slipped out quietly to take care of his errands, leaving an all-too-fleeting warm patch on his side of the mattress.

She smiled to herself as she came down the steps. Coffee was nice, toast was good, but neither held the skinniest little stump of a birthday candle to the feel of a warm man hugging you through the night. She wouldn’t get attached to the sensation, but if ever in her life she’d needed to feel that, this week was the time.

“Hey.” The voice made her jump as she passed through the den, and Casey sat up on the couch, revealing himself. Her shock must’ve shown. “Sorry. Morning.”

“Morning. You done with all your stuff you had to do?”

He stood, nodded. Man, that body already looked different—already felt like hers, calling to her from these few paces away. He closed the distance, stroking his hand over the baby’s head. Abilene knew exactly what that rough palm felt like, and yearned for a little taste of contact. Just a whisper of his fingertips across her cheek. Anything. Junkie.

“Glad you got to sleep in,” he said. “You ready for breakfast?”

“Coffee, for sure.”

He waved an arm to tell her to go ahead of him, and she did, feeling shy.

“Sit tight.” He gestured toward the kitchen table. “I’ll make it. Cream and three sugars.”

She smiled at his back, chanced flirtation. “Can’t resist a man who knows how I take my coffee.”

“You think that now, but I’m about to wreck your day.”

Her smile wilted. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply. He came back with a mug and set it at her elbow. Then he sat himself, his cool expression casting that warm glow right out of her, like a blanket yanked from her shoulders.

A million awful scenarios rushed through her mind, the worst of them undoubtedly being that he was about to tell her she needed to go somewhere else. Far from this lovely old oasis of a house, maybe even far from Casey. Maybe into an actual safe house, into protective custody, where no doubt some authorities would be wanting to know more about her identity and her past than she was willing to share.

“What? Tell me.”

Casey rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. Sighed. “He called.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, not after last night. Talk about gall. “What did he have to say?”

“He denied coming by, no surprise. I wanted to tell him to forget it all. Forget getting to see you after that—” He caught whatever cuss would’ve followed just in time. “After what he pulled last night. But I had to calm myself down. Remember that nothing about this is going to get any better until we know where he stands. And the fact is, he’s likely to be straight with you, not any of us.”