to take. And it had paid off in spades.
Chase slid his arm free and let her leg fall back to the mattress. Slowly, slowly he slipped out of her body before rolling to his side with a groan.
Parts of her ached. Parts that hadn’t ached in a very long time. Jane quietly stretched, listening to her muscles sing. Oh, yeah.
“Jane?” Chase whispered.
She tilted her head toward him.
“Damn. That was… Damn.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
Well, on top of everything else he was polite.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. Hungry? Before she could shake her head, he nodded. “I’m starving. I’m going to jump in the shower and then I’ll make us a snack. Stay there.”
Jane felt a twinge of stark regret. She didn’t want to get up yet. Her muscles were still warm and melting. And Chase was being surprisingly…sweet.
He pushed up from the bed and walked toward the bathroom.
“Chase?”
He tossed a smile over his tattooed shoulder. “Yeah?”
What could she say? You’re amazing? You’re wonderful? I’m sorry for what I’m about to do? Jane cleared her throat. “Thanks for celebrating my birthday with me.”
Chase winked. “You’re pretty fucking welcome. I’ll be right back and we can celebrate again if you want.”
Letting her head sink to the mattress, Jane sighed. Where did he get so much energy? She’d never seen a guy so wide-awake after sex, and he was putting a crimp in her plan.
The shower started. The bathroom echoed with the sound of his whistling. Whistling? Jane frowned at the ceiling. He should have just rolled off her and started snoring. Then she could have gotten out of here without the guilt that was twisting through her chest.
“Crud,” Jane groused, but as soon as she heard the shower door thud closed, she got up, pulled on her clothes and walked out.
“Thank you, Chase,” she whispered as she closed the door. It had been a lovely fantasy, but now she had to get back to her real life. Or her fake life. Whatever it was, Chase didn’t fit into it.
THERE WAS NO QUESTION about it. Her real life sucked donkeys. And her brother was an asshole.
She winced at the uncharitable, vulgar thought about the little boy she’d spent countless hours babysitting. He’d been a sweet kid. Too sweet. Their mother had let him get away with murder, hiding his transgressions from his father.
But apparently the police didn’t think he was cute. He hadn’t been released. And on top of that, Jane was spending her Saturday at her parents’ house, watching the sheriff serve a search warrant.
She snuck a peek at her stepfather, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking as if he didn’t want to be in his own home.
If her mother had made Mac aware, he wouldn’t have let Jessie get away with things like shoplifting gum from the gas station or lying to his teachers about why he hadn’t done his homework.
But Mom had always loved bad boys, of course. And her enabling love had let Jessie grow up into a slacker who figured he could charm his way out of anything. If it wasn’t for the large and very intimidating presence of his father, Jessie probably would have been a complete waste. As it was, he at least pretended to try to find a job.
But now the deputies were getting ready to search Jessie’s room and the rest of the basement. They hadn’t gotten access to the rest of the house, anyway, and that just might save her stepdad’s sanity.
Mac crossed his arms, face red and eyes narrowed. He’d backed into the kitchen, separating himself from everyone to help control his temper, a gesture Jane recognized. His appearance was frightening and his temper was real, but he’d spent the past twenty years doing everything he could to stay out of prison. His quiet anger filled the room, but he didn’t give it a voice.
Her mom, on the other hand, cried loudly, hands clutching the warrant. “But he didn’t do anything!” Her conviction was incredibly real considering she had no idea why the cops were there.
They were from the county sheriff’s department, but the warrant had come from Aspen. At least the family knew where Jessie was being held now—right in Jane’s backyard.
“All right,” Jane said to the female deputy keeping her company, the one making sure she didn’t destroy any evidence. Her mother had her own personal keeper and the biggest deputy was stationed near the kitchen, eyes on Mac. “Please tell me what he’s been charged with.”
“He was arrested by the Aspen P.D., ma’am. You’ll have to contact them.”
“Of course,” she muttered. “Mom, let me see the warrant.”
A crash sounded from the basement, and Jane threw a concerned glance at Mac, who took a deep breath and turned to face the wall. Her mother sobbed.
“Mom, please keep it down. Dad is upset enough, all right?”
Her mom nodded and sniffed hard, trying to control herself.
“I’m going to read the warrant, and then I’m going to try to get in touch with someone at the Aspen police department, okay? Now that we know where he is, we’ll be able to find out the charges, no problem. It’s all public record. And they must have set bail already.”
“I know.” Her mom sighed. Of course she did. They were all well versed in the ins and outs of the justice system.
The warrant was enlightening. The police were searching for stolen goods that related to an ongoing investigation. The belongings of two women were listed: purses, credit cards, cash and licenses.
Crud. An ongoing investigation. Not good. Jane looked at the hunched shoulders of her stepfather and cringed. Mac was going to be past furious.
“Do you know about the stolen-goods investigation?” Jane asked the deputy.
The woman gave her an impassive look. “You’ll need to contact the Aspen P.D., ma’am.”
“Yes, I got that, thanks.”
She waded through the last of the scarce information in the warrant before shaking her head. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Jessie’s no thief.”
As if on cue, a deputy emerged from the basement staircase with a big plastic bag. It wasn’t empty.
Mac’s mouth tightened. “Call Aspen,” he growled, causing his guard to shift nervously. Mac’s brown hair was peppered with gray, but he still looked dangerous as hell. His green eyes shot daggers at the cop, and his big arms warned that he could back his rage up with power. The blue-black stains of the tattoos on his arms gave a warning, too—one any cop would recognize. Here was a man who’d spent a good part of his life in prison.
Jane dialed information and turned to face the corner for a small sense of privacy. The black lacquer end table was polished to a shine and reflected her own anxious face back at her.
She’d lost her adventurous side over the course of the past few hours. Now she was pale and plain again, her mouth pinched, her forehead creased with worry. She looked like a woman who’d never enjoyed so much as a decadent dessert, much less a big animal of a man.
As she spoke to the receptionist at the police department and then got transferred to another desk and then another, Jane watched her own face grow tighter, her features twisting into fear as she talked.
By the time she hung up, her reflection had