Page 57 of At Last

“Any leads on the black SUV?” I ask. Monotone. Business-like. Drained.

“Houdini’s gonna die,” is his only response.

Eventually exhaustion carries me under. Thankfully, I don’t dream. A welcome reprieve from the heartache to heal, even if just for a night. When I wake, Duke’s side of the bed is cold. Jade plays with her Barbies scattered all over the rug on the living room floor, and Hero sits on my blue jean sectional watching a program on the television.

How had my sectional ended up here?

Before I can ask, Hero beats me to it. “Since Duke’s sofa broke, we brought it over this morning. You want some coffee?” He asks.

Coffee. Yes. I look down at my feet, and that’s when I realize how I must appear. Still wearing the black sundress from yesterday. My hair and face must look a fright. “Yes, please.” I answer him, then turn for Jade’s bathroom.

Sure enough, mascara tracks have dried in streaks down my face and my hair, a frizzy mess, sticks out all over from the once pretty bun.

Using one of Jade’s moisturizing wet wipes, I scrub at the makeup until I can pass for human again. And I’m able to pick out the hairpins holding my disheveled bun in place. But the dress, I can’t do the zipper. And I need help with the shower.

“Where’s Duke?” I ask when I make my way back out to the kitchen where there’s a steaming mug of coffee, sandy blond, on the island. I raise an eyebrow at Hero. “How’d you know?”

“Before he left, he told me you like the crème brûlée, and it should be sandy blond. So I guessed.” But I’ll note, he doesn’t tell me where Duke is.

“You draw the short straw?” I ask, then.

He cocks his head, face wearing his puzzlement.

“Guard duty,” I finish.

“Volunteered.” He counters.

What?“Why on earth would you do that? Jesse’s dead.”

“And that would be why. You and Jade need protection. I don’t have an old lady, but if I did, I’d hope a brother would step up to help protect her when I couldn’t be around. And our prez has enough to worry about. So here I am.”

“Elise loves you,” I blurt. “She says if she hadn’t met Boss first, that she’d have gone stalker over you.”

He laughs at my assessment of the situation. “Yeah, so she’s said. But as she did meet Boss first, and those two are head over heels for each other, I won’t get my ass handed to me for you saying that. Did she tell you before or after you and Duke hooked up?”

“After. When I told her I had a crush on…” I exhale slowly. Bringing his name into the conversation hurts. “Jesse.”

His face falls, and we both remain quiet for a minute before I voice what needs to be voiced. “I should leave here, shouldn’t I?”

“Excuse my language, butfuck no. Duke needs you here. I wasn’t around when his wife was alive, but from what the brothers say, you’ve changed him. Given him back something he was missing in his life.”

Of course, I open my mouth to dispute him, but am once again cut off by a sexy biker.

“And before you argue, one thing we know about Houdini, if he’s got a taste for you, he’ll hunt you down. Learned the hard way with Liv and Elise. Especially Elise. Your ass needs to stay put where we can protect you. None of us knew how he was gonna strike, so he took us off guard. That was his one chance. One.”

“But maybe—” I protest.

“One, Caity.” He cuts me off.

Because I know he expects me to, I nod once. Though the jury is still out if I exactly believe him or not. I mean, weren’t they already supposed to be vigilant? So how did he take them off guard? Yet somehow now I’ve got a psychopath after my daughter, and he tried to kill us.

And if that isn’t enough reason to grab my girl and run away, to a different continent if necessary… or have a nervous breakdown, hell maybe just be out-of-it drunk for a month or two, there’s yet another problem to deal with as a result of this hopeless situation.

“I’m going to lose all my patients,” I tell Hero, holding up my casted wrists so he gets the gist of what I mean. But it’s not just that. After having to take that week off after Jade’s injury, I was back for a week before the accident, and my subsequent week stay in the hospital. And still recovering, I haven’t been cleared to go back to work. Not that I could with casted wrists.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.” He offers with a knowing smile as he rounds the island, mug in hand and stops in front of the coffee pot. He pours himself a refill, then turns to lean his bottom against the edge of the counter, feet crossed at the ankles and an arm across his stomach. With the other, he lifts the mug to his lips, takes a sip and winces because it’s hot coffee, then goes on. “Not if all the flowers and cards dropped by the front gate or all the casseroles from those brave enough to approach Duke mean anything.”

To prove his point, he leans over and pulls open the door to the refrigerator. The completely full refrigerator. Every shelf stacked with glass or aluminum casserole dishes. Then to really drive his point home, he opens the freezer.

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