Page 26 of Defending You
“But I don’tworkthere.” Asher acknowledged that with a nod. “I was in the back room, on the phone with Forbes, but something didn’t sound right. I peeked through the opening and saw the guard—the bald guy at the train station—standing near the door. And then I saw the older man strangle Mr. D until he collapsed. At that point, I grabbed the bag and ran out the back.”
“You call the cops?”
“They directed me to the nearest precinct. But somehow the two men were waiting for me there. That’s when I called Forbes again, and he sent you.” Recalling the events had her hands trembling. She wrapped them around her mug, the warmth grounding her.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Maybe the man was tied to the original theft.”
“The smooth talker,” she said. “That’s what I assume. But why kill Mr. D? Why burn the store?”
“Loose ends. They didn’t expect you to take the necklace and run. Now they’re after you—and it.” He tapped his fingers on his mug, thinking.
“Even if I hadn’t taken it, they’d be after me, right? Because I was a witness?”
“We need to assume so, yeah. At this point, we need to get you and the necklace to Forbes and let him and the FBI sort it out. Between them and your dad, they’ll be able to keep you safe.”
She nodded, the weight of it settling deeper. “I just wanted to get it back to him. It’s his family’s, you know? And after everything Brooklynn and Forbes went through…”
“How did they get together, anyway?”
“That’s a long story.” Brooklynn had seen something she shouldn’t have. If not for Forbes, she’d probably have been killed.
Weird, the similarities to what Cici was going through. If not for Asher, she doubted she’d still be breathing. The difference was obvious, though. In the end, Forbes and Brooklynn had fallen in love.
Whereas Asher couldn’t wait to be rid of Cici.
He finished his coffee, setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Good breakfast. Thanks.”
His simple compliment heated her more than the coffee had. “Anytime.”
A low rumble broke the quiet—tires on gravel. Asher was up in an instant, moving to the window. He peeled back the curtain. “Vehicle’s here.”
She stood, grabbing their plates. “Guess breakfast is over.”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at her, that unreadable look flickering again. “Can you be ready in ten?”
“Even faster.” She rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher before starting it.
After returning the jewelry to the velvet bag, then the bag to her purse, she grabbed her suitcase from the bedroom and met Asher at the front door. He and the driver—a wiry guy in a ballcap—traded a few words. Then the guy handed Asher a key fob and headed for the stolen sedan.
Asher turned to her. “You ready?”
She checked her purse to make sure the jewels were there. “Yup.”
Asher took her suitcase and tossed it and his duffel into the new ride, a blue SUV.
She climbed into the passenger seat and stole a glance at Asher as he started the engine. Maybe he’d misjudged her family, but she’d misjudged him too—once upon a time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Asher gripped the wheel of the SUV, the engine’s low hum blending with the crunch of tires on the back roads north of Sturbridge. The morning sun slanted through the trees, dappling the asphalt in gold and shadow. It was beautiful, but his mind kept circling back to that moment in the kitchen—the air warm with the scent of coffee, Cici flipping eggs and buttering toast. Her strawberry-blond hair was damp and messy, the clean scent of her soap cutting through the grease, and that soft-green T-shirt that hugged her just right.Beautifuldidn’t cover it. She’d looked…vibrant and innocent.
The snapshot had hit him square in the chest.
It was everything he’d ever wanted—a home, a family, that quiet security he’d chased since he was a kid staring through restaurant windows at lives he could never hope to have. And there she was, serving it up in the form of an egg sandwich, all casual competence and grace.
For a second, he’d let himself imagine it—her, him, a life like that.
As if.
