He took her hand, shook it. “Perfect, Ms. Standish.”
“Cal me Mil ie or Aunt Mil ie.” She offered him an arch look. “Only people who make me angry or who I don’t like have to cal me Ms. Standish.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She crooked a finger, and the IDs Chloe held zoomed into her hand. She tucked them and everything else into the satchel. Then she picked up the sheaf of paperwork and leafed through it. “I’ve rented or bought thirty-seven cabins, smal houses, and condos up and down the West Coast and into Idaho, Nevada, and Arizona. Plus, I had several similar properties I owned before. They are al available for your use, or not, as you see fit. My private jet wil be leaving Seattle in three hours and stopping at or near every one of these properties. Get off wherever you want, but there wil be witnesses who wil swear people matching your descriptions got off at every stop. This Smith person wil be able to track you down eventual y, but this should buy you some time.”
The slightly awed look didn’t sit wel on Merek’s features. “That’s more than I’d hoped for. Very clever, too.”
“Thank you, Aunt Mil ie.” Chloe scooted to the edge of the bed, ready to stand and get on board this runaway train. “For everything. For al of this. It’s—”
“That’s what family—and, in this case, family money—is for.” The older witch glided forward to sweep her into a hug, and it was just like the first time, when she’d come to claim her orphaned niece.
Chloe held on tight, letting herself cling for just a moment before she pul ed back. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Mil ie pushed her hair away from her face, the gesture tender and maternal.
“I’m not sure when I’l see you again, but I’l miss you like crazy.” Her throat closing and her heart contracting, Chloe refused to think that the answer to that might be never.
5
“I’l be out in just a minute.”
Merek just grunted and leaned back against the foot of the hospital bed. Everyone else had gone to take care of business, and Chloe had needed to get ready to leave. Merek had been married before, had had several long-term girlfriends in his life; he knew what “just a minute” translated to in woman-speak. He figured he had a half an hour wait on his hands, at least.
He shook his head, snorted a laugh.
He was insane. That was the official diagnosis. He was completely and utterly insane. Selina had agreed with that assessment when he’d cal ed her that morning to let her know he was going on extended and indefinite leave. She’d also laughed her smoky laugh that this was al over a woman who nul ified his precognition. Growling a few choice curse words at her had only made his partner laugh harder.
Hanging up on her would have been satisfying, but the truth was . . . she was right.
Forty-eight hours ago, he’d never have imagined anything could convince him to put his career aside.
Just two days ago, he was a cynical workaholic cop who survived on caffeine and had no real life to speak of. He hadn’t wanted one. He’d put al that aside when his wife died. His work had been the only thing that got him through every day, so much so that a lot of days he hadn’t even bothered to go home.
Then again, he’d made sure the apartment had been emptied of anything that reminded him of the past.
When he’d moved to Seattle from Chicago, he’d gotten rid of every memento of his wife and family. Sold what he could and stored what he couldn’t, and then his place had been devoid of anything that would . . .
encourage him to stay.
He worked. That was al he did, al he cared about. His whole life was a driving need to keep as many people from going through what he’d been through as possible. It helped with the guilt, the sense of failure.
Not a lot, but it helped. Nothing else did, so he went with what worked for him.
And that meant his job. He enjoyed the chal enge, liked pitting his mind, body, and abilities against people who were trying to get away with shit. The adrenaline rush beat just about everything but ful penetration sex.
Sex and work just circled him right back around to Chloe. The only woman he’d ever lost control with to have sex at work. The only woman he’d ever been wil ing to give up work for. Brutal honesty had gotten him through the days and months after his best friend’s death, his parents’ accident, then his wife’s murder, and he had to ask himself if he was simply giving up one obsession to replace it with another.
He couldn’t imagine getting the craving for Chloe out of his blood, hadn’t been able to get her out of his head for two months, hadn’t been able to stop himself from going after her the day before. For once, he was grateful to have lost control. It might even be the first time he’d been grateful for such a thing. But if he hadn’t, he might have lost her permanently.
No. Just no. That was not an option he was wil ing to consider. Not now, not ever. Chloe dead.
Not on his watch. And for better or worse, he’d made certain she was his responsibility. Temporarily.
Someone like her, someone blank to his clairvoyance, could never be al owed to stay in his life as anything more than a temporary duty. But while he had her, he would give up anything to defend her.
For a man who’d gone from having nothing but his work to hold his attention, he’d had some serious priority shifts in the last day. He now had an irresistible witch to protect, along with her familiar and her teenage werewolf godson. Without any aid from any other law enforcement agency or official. He—they— were on their own.
This was going to go great.
His bags were packed and loaded in his car. He’d done so without hesitation, the same way he’d looked up Chloe’s next of kin in her file and found Mildred Standish’s personal number. He’d cal ed and laid out the bare facts to the woman, hoping she had the same grit as her niece. From what he’d heard—and who hadn’t heard of Mil ie Standish?—he’d had a feeling Chloe was a chip off the old block. Seeing the women in the same room had only confirmed it for him. Without even trying, the women were a force of nature, sweeping in and changing everything in their path. Loyal, tough, smart, protective, and feisty as hel . It was a little scary that he could see exactly what Chloe would be like in a hundred years. It was even scarier that he liked the thought.
He didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“Al righty, then.” The door to the bathroom swung open, and Chloe stepped out, looking fresh and clean and so damn gorgeous he wanted to drag her to the floor, strip her naked, and take her hard until they were both panting. She grinned at him, smoothing a hand down the sleeve of her sweater. “What?”
“Nothing.” He checked his watch. Under ten minutes. And she’d even done her makeup. He was impressed. “You ready?”
“As I’l ever be. So, no. But since I don’t have a choice, let’s get this show on the road.” She dumped the used hospital gown on the bed. “Is al of my medical paperwork taken care of?”
“Yeah, you’ve been discharged. Mil ie handled it.”
Dimples flashed in Chloe’s cheeks. “Handy to have around, isn’t she?”
“You said it.” He shrugged and couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his lips. “That old witch is scary as hel , but as long as she likes me, I figure that’s just fine.”
“Yep.” Chloe scooped up her purse and led the way out of her room. “That’s the standard reaction to Mildred Standish. Until she decides she doesn’t like you. Then the correct reaction is to duck, cover, and run in a zigzag pattern as you try to escape the lightning bolts she sends shooting after you to fry your ass.”