Jason (Blue Halo Book 2)
Jason: Chapter 22

“Jason, I can’t move. I think you’re going to have to carry me up the stairs.”

He could even throw her over his shoulder firefighter-style for all she cared, as long as it required no effort on her part.

Her muscles groaned as she climbed out of the car. It had been a long week of daily self-defense lessons. A week of muscle pain, dead limbs and zero energy. How long did fitness take to build up? Whatever the answer was, it was too dang long.

She moved slowly to the backseat, lifting the casserole. Good Lord, even that was an effort. Her quads protested. Her biceps screamed. Maybe the self-defense life wasn’t for her.

She’d barely straightened when she was whipped off her feet. Courtney yelped as her side pressed into Jason’s chest. The casserole dish only just remained horizontal in her hands.

She looked down, noticing the heavy bag of dog food was hanging from one of his wrists. And his muscles weren’t even straining.

“Jason, I was joking.” At least, she was pretty sure she was.

“I don’t mind.” He pressed a peck to her forehead as he walked inside the apartment building. She was relieved when he bypassed the elevator and took the stairs. All four flights of them with her in his arms.

“Hm, so if I told you I needed to be carried around all day—”

“Then I guess you’d be stuck in my arms like superglue.”

Superglue? More like Lois and Superman. And she might just be able to get used to that. “You wouldn’t care about people looking at us like we’re lunatics?”

“Not one bit.”

Ha. In that case, on the way back down to the car, she might just pop her hands behind her head, cross her feet and relax.

Jason stepped onto the fourth floor, and carried her all the way to Helen’s apartment before depositing her on her feet.

Courtney had been bringing her neighbor food regularly since she’d been released from the hospital. She’d also been picking up her specially ordered dog food and treats. She’d continue doing so for a while. At least until the older woman’s ribs healed, but more likely until Courtney’s guilt subsided… so forever and always.

Jason had changed all the locks in Helen’s apartment and installed an alarm system. If her apartment was breached, Jason’s team would be directly notified.

He knocked. Barking immediately sounded from inside the apartment. Poor Bernie. He’d recovered a lot quicker than his owner, but had stayed at the vet until she’d returned home.

Helen opened the door, Bernie in her arms. “Hello, dear.” Then her eyes softened, a smile touching her lips as she looked up at Jason. The older woman loved the guy since he’d helped make her apartment more secure. “Jason. Come in.”

Courtney barely held in her chuckle. “We made you chicken casserole.” And it really was a “we” situation. Truth be told, Jason had probably done more than her.

She headed into the kitchen and set it on the stove.

Helen’s apartment was almost a mirror of her own. Only where Courtney had filled her place with color and patterns and modern decor, Helen was more a fan of beiges and whites. Not to mention the dog figurines. So many dog figurines.

“I’ve told you, Courtney, you don’t need to cook for me.” Helen walked into the kitchen, filling the kettle and switching it on. “Bernie and I are quite capable.”

Courtney crossed her arms. “I know, but I want to make your life just a little easier.” She wasn’t a good cook. Like, at all. But for Helen, and with the help of Jason, she was putting in the effort.

The older woman sighed, placing Bernie on the ground before opening a cupboard and pulling out three mugs. She did this every time they visited. Made them all tea with a dollop of honey. She was pretty sure Jason hated the stuff—it was pretty sweet, even for her—but he always drank it, God bless his polite soul.

Bernie came over and started sniffing her feet. She lifted him, giving him a cuddle. “And I’d still like to pay for Bernie’s vet bill, if that’s okay?”

She shook her head. “No need, dear. I have money and we both have insurance. And it’s not like I have anything to spend my money on other than Bernie.”

“But—”

“No. Courtney, you didn’t ask that man to come into my apartment and attack me.” Courtney grimaced. “You didn’t ask him to hurt poor Bernie or ruin your apartment or chase you into your bathroom. If anyone should pay, it’s those no-good criminals.”

They were in agreement about that. Unfortunately, the chance of that happening was looking more and more like zero.

Helen placed tea bags into the cups before filling them up with hot water.

“Would you feel safer having one of my guys watch your apartment?” Jason asked.

He’d offered before, but Special Agent Peters had insisted on having one of his guys watch the building, and Helen had flat-out refused two guards.

“Goodness, no, that would just be too much. That guy only wanted somewhere to wait for Courtney. Now that she’s gone, I don’t see him coming back for me. Plus, with the FBI out front, and that new swanky lock and security system, I’m safer than I was before.” Helen took the tea bags out of the cups. Courtney put Bernie back on the floor as the older woman handed a mug to her and the other to Jason. “And that agent told me the same thing—that I’m safe.”

Courtney frowned as they moved into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.

“When he questioned you at the hospital?” Jason asked.

The older woman took a sip of her tea. “Yes, then. And also when he came over earlier today.”

Courtney watched as the tea stilled halfway to Jason’s lips. “Peters came to see you today?”

“He did indeed, and he had some questions about Courtney.”

Courtney was careful to keep her features neutral. “What kind of questions?”

Helen stirred her tea, brows tugging together as her eyes went to the ceiling. “Let’s see. He asked if you’d ever spoken about a woman called Jessica. I told him the truth, that I’d never heard her name come out of your mouth. He also asked if you’d ever had any other visitors like the man who attacked me.”

Okay, so the guy really didn’t trust her. Why? What had she ever done to earn any kind of distrust?

She glanced at Jason. His jaw was so tight it looked carved from granite. He already thought Peters was hiding information and spending too much time questioning her instead of looking for Lima. She was starting to agree.

They remained for another fifteen minutes, Jason barely saying a thing. Courtney nodded and smiled at Helen as she spoke about Bernie and her potted plants.

When they stepped into the hall, Courtney snuck a peek up at him for the first time in a while. Yep. Still looked about as hard as Michelangelo’s “David”.

“Are you okay?”

When he took her hand, his touch was gentle, in complete contrast to what the rest of him looked like. “I’m okay.”

They stepped over to her apartment door, and Courtney pulled out her key. They’d both agreed it was important for her to continue living with him, for a while at least, so she needed to grab more of her things. The few shirts, pairs of jeans and a couple of dresses just weren’t going to cut it long-term.

Jason took the key from her fingers, unlocking the doors. She tried to step inside but he placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her. Then waited.

He was still as he listened. A nervous trickle crawled over her skin. She almost expected someone to jump out of her place and for Jason to transform into deadly protector mode.

Another beat of silence passed, then finally he lowered his hand. She breathed a sigh of relief, trailing him inside.

No big terminator fights. Not today.

She went straight to her bedroom, grabbing a suitcase from under her bed and unzipping it. She started with her top drawer.

“What do you want me to do?”

She grinned at his question. “You can stand there and look pretty. I won’t be long.” She grabbed a handful of tops, moving back to the bed and dumping them inside.

Jason laughed. It was the first smile he’d cracked since entering the apartment building. She liked it. “You aren’t going to fold anything?”

“Do I look like a folder?” She shook her head. No. No she didn’t. “Life’s too short to fold clothes into a suitcase. Especially when said clothes are going to be in there for, what, ten minutes?” If even.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

She went back to the drawer, grabbing handfuls of socks and underwear.

Jason leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “That would be true, if you planned to unpack immediately. Do you plan to unpack immediately?”

Crap, the man was onto her. She should probably be offended. If he wasn’t so dang accurate, she would be.

“Maybe.” Probably not… definitely not.

Another chuckle.

She smiled, moving on to her jeans’ drawer. After adding some to the suitcase, she was just turning toward her closet when she stopped, gaze zeroing in on the framed photo of her and Jessica that sat on a bedside table.

She swallowed, looking across to the other nightstand and back.

“Have you been in here since we left?” she asked, not turning.

“No.” She heard his footsteps as he drew closer. “Why?”

“I keep the photo of Jessica and me on the right side, not the left.” Always had. She might not be super tidy, but all the important stuff had its place. And Jessica’s picture lived on the right side of the bed. The side Courtney slept on.

“Everyone pitched in to help us clean up the night of the break-in. Maybe they put it in the wrong spot.”

She shook her head. “No. I picked it up and put it where it needed to go.”

She drew closer, lifting the frame and turning it around. Small goose bumps rose across her skin. “And someone opened it.”

His voice came from right behind her. “How do you know?”

“I only ever close two of the clips.” She specifically remembered checking them on instinct, the night they’d tidied the apartment. Her fingers grazed over the four that were now shut.

Why would someone open it? To look for something inside? To hide something? A bug maybe?

Jason reached over, taking it from her fingers and unclasping the clips. He studied every inch of the thing. No bug.

So they’d been searching for something.

When she looked up, it was to see Jason looking around shrewdly. “Is there anything else different or out of place?” he asked.

She opened the first drawer of her bedside table. She’d straightened most of her bedroom, while Jason’s team had helped with the common areas.

“This drawer is neater than usual.” Like, way neater. Someone had even gone to the effort to place the books in a neat pile. They were usually a mess. In fact, she remembered just shoving them in there, in such a rush to clear the floor after her space had been violated.

She moved into the bathroom, opening the drawers. “Everything’s too tidy.”

As if things had been taken out and placed back in the perfect spots.

Courtney moved into the living room, noticing everything there was also placed to perfection. Frames at exactly the right angle. Canisters in the kitchen perfect distances from each other.

“Someone’s been in here.” Her skin prickled.

Was it the Mafia? It didn’t look like them. Heck, they’d messed up and destroyed almost every item they could get their hands on. But who else could it be? She didn’t have any enemies…

“Let’s finish packing your bag.” There was a deadly quiet to the way he spoke the words.

She moved back into the bedroom, packing quickly, no longer feeling comfortable in her home. Everything felt… tarnished. Touched.

When they stepped into the hall, Jason placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her downstairs. It wasn’t until they were in his car that she broke the silence.

“Do you think it was the Mafia?”

“No. They wouldn’t have left the place so clean,” he said, confirming her thoughts.

When he didn’t continue, Courtney pushed. “What should we do?”

He started the car. “I’ll contact my team. We’ll check for bugs. We’ll also check for prints and send them to Wyatt. He can hack government systems, and if the prints are in there, he’ll find them. Maybe if they put everything back and assumed you wouldn’t notice, they weren’t wearing gloves.”

Government systems. That could mean criminals, or…

“You think it was Peters?”

Anger. It flashed through his eyes, dark and stormy. He pulled onto the street and immediately reached out, threading his fingers through hers. “I think the guy doesn’t trust you and is putting too much time into investigating the wrong person, and not enough into protecting you.”

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