Chapter 14

14

Cold sweat popped along the back of Grace's neck as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips, searching for the right words amidst the weight of Caleb's expectant gaze. "It's complicated."

He forked some pie and chewed slowly. Waiting for more.

The clinking of cutlery and murmured conversations filled the cozy diner, reminding her of how far outside normal life she had drifted. She didn't even know how she would find her way back.

She twisted a paper napkin between her trembling fingers. "I don't want to pull you into this." Her voice wavered. "You could get hurt. You've already been so kind, gone out of your way. If something happened to you or your family…" God, just thinking about baby Ellie made her throat ache.

His expression softened as he reached across the table, prying the shredded napkin from her grip and taking both her hands in his. "I was a SEAL before I joined the Coast Guard. I can see how frightened you are. You're permanently on edge, wound so tight." He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, making her pulse leap. "I've seen this kind of trauma reaction before."

A SEAL. It explained so much—the way he held himself with a quiet confidence, the economy of movement that spoke of rigorous training, the calm, measured way he approached everything.

"I left my boyfriend. Partner, whatever. Richard. Things were difficult. I couldn't stay any longer." She swallowed hard. Despite the weight of her own fears pressing down on her, there was real comfort in his presence, as though his mere existence offered a shield against Richard. But that was her hormones talking, right?

Her skin cooled as he released her hand. Was it wrong to wish she could hold on to that fleeting connection a little while longer?

"Did he hit you?"

"Hit me?"

"The marks on your cheek."

She touched them with self conscious fingers, remembering the crack of wood hitting her cheek as she escaped from the FBI's alleged safe house. "This wasn't him…or at least not directly."

"But there were other times?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Caleb blew out a breath, spreading his fingers wide on the table. He had such capable looking hands, with callouses on his fingers. Dark hairs peeped out from under his leather watch strap. Desire, a long forgotten emotion, looped lazily in her belly. What would those hands feel like on my skin?

"You're running?"

Heat scorched her cheeks as she got her mutinous thoughts back under control. "I needed a fresh start, but he's… Richard is finding it hard to let go."

"The men in the forest?"

She nodded. "They work for him."

"Have you spoken to the police?"

For all the good it did me. She forced a brittle smile onto her face. "The police are aware, yes."

"You got a restraining order?"

"That doesn't work with Richard." She stifled a painful laugh. "As far as he's concerned, I belong to him. I don't have a say in the matter."

Caleb's hands contracted into fists, his knuckles blanching as he swore under his breath. His eyes darkened from smoky to granite. He looked away, scanning the diner for a moment before he met her gaze again. "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you while I'm around."

God, she wanted to believe him. So much.

"That's sweet but…" Knots coiled in her belly. "No one can guarantee that." Images crowded her mind. Miller, the dead detective at the safe house. The side of his head turned inside out like some alien flower, and blood so black she thought she'd fallen into hell.

"What I said stands."

He sounded so sure of himself. Confident. She wanted to trust him, to share the burden she carried.

"Whatever happened before now doesn't matter. What counts now is you're here." His voice was firm.

She stared at the pitted wood of the table. "This is bigger than I can explain. Dangerous. Not just for me, but for anyone who might try to help me. I can't put you in that position."

Staying on the move was the only solution.

Caleb swung his head in a definite no. "That doesn't change what I'm saying, and my past gives me confidence about what I say."

"Because you were a SEAL?"

"Yes."

The diner door chimed and instinct won. Grace checked over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn't.

A tall woman in a sheriff's uniform strode into the diner, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, a male police officer trotting after her.

Shit. Police. Richard had contacts everywhere.

She faced front again, her heart rate escalating. How long to the emergency exit on the far side of the diner? Or would out through the kitchen be faster?

Grace snuck another peek. The Sheriff and deputy approached the counter. Louisa was plating pie, but she'd stopped to chat to them. Grace heard Caleb's name, and the Sheriff looked over to their table.

She's looking directly at me.

A tremor of intimidation rolled through her under the officer's assessing gaze. Grace resisted the urge to avert her eyes guiltily, feeling as if this fierce-looking woman could somehow see straight into her troubled history if she looked too closely.

The sheriff left her deputy at the counter and walked toward their table. Her steps were fluid, hinting at excellent physical fitness. Grace didn't doubt that in this remote corner of Alaska, this woman was a formidable presence, a force to be reckoned with.

Hell.

She tensed her legs, preparing to bolt. It was all over. It made perfect sense Richard would reach out through law enforcement, use their greater surveillance capacity to track her down.

The sheriff stopped at their table, her weight shifting to one hip. Her gaze was steady, bleeding strength into the air. "Hi."