His honest but harsh words stole the breath from her chest.
"Sorry. I should have sugarcoated that," he said, reading her expression.
"No. I want you to be honest, and you're right. They're already worrying about what I know. That’s why they tried to run me off the road tonight. If they get an opportunity to silence me, they will."
"I won't let that happen."
"I like your confidence," she murmured.
"I'm going to remind you of that next time you think I'm taking over."
"I said confidence, not controlling attitude."
"I'm afraid they go together. Go to bed, Haley. I promise you'll be safe tonight."
She got to her feet. "Okay, thanks for staying. But if you have to leave, if you get a call or something, or you're just too uncomfortable and you need to go home, can you tell me before you go? I'd rather wake up and be told you're leaving than just find you gone in the morning." It was the closest she'd come to sharing that particular fear with anyone. Hopefully, he would relate it only to the extreme circumstances they were in and nothing else.
"I won't leave without telling you. You can count on that."
"Thank you. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket," she said as she headed into the bedroom. She'd stopped counting on people a long time ago, but maybe tonight she would let herself count on him.
ChapterTen
Matt woke up Saturday morning to the sound of coffee brewing and the soft shuffle of bare feet on hardwood floors. For a moment, he forgot where he was, then the events of the previous day came rushing back. Haley's couch was about as comfortable as advertised—which was to say, not at all—but it wasn't the lumpy cushions that had kept him awake. It was Haley.
After reading through her notes on her brother's death, he'd finally gone to sleep around two, having developed an even greater appreciation for her investigative skills and also her fierce love for her brother. He hated that law enforcement had let her down. He hated that it had taken six years for someone to try to get information to Haley, only to be killed before she could do that.
More than anything, he hated the way Haley had grown up—her father dead by suicide, her mother's descent into alcohol and drugs—leaving Haley to raise herself and her brother. She had a strength that had been forged in fire, but there was still a vulnerability to her that made him want to protect her. He'd seen that last night when she'd asked him to tell her if he had to leave. She hadn't wanted him to disappear, probably because too many people in her life had vanished without a word. It had taken courage for her to express that thought. He'd seen the shame in her eyes and had wanted to tell her it was okay. But it had seemed better to just assure her he would be there and hope she would believe him.
She'd definitely had it rough growing up, far worse than he had. And it made him realize how lucky he'd been to have two parents who, while rarely focused on him, had made sure he had a place to live, plenty of food, and money to take care of his needs. But Haley had been the one to give all that to her brother.
Knowing what he knew now, he felt even more determined to help her get the truth about her brother's death, because he didn't believe it was an accident any more than she did. It was time for law enforcement to step it up, and he intended to do just that. He just had to make sure she was safe while they were unraveling the truth, which meant he should try to get her into a safehouse. She'd balk at the idea, but she'd almost lost her life last night. If he hadn't been right behind her, he didn't know what would have happened.
Thankfully, he'd been there to save her, to hold her in his arms, to comfort her. And that memory reminded him of the dreams he'd had about her last night—dreams that were definitely not appropriate for an FBI agent to have about a witness in an active investigation. Haley Kenton was brave and beautiful, but she was also vulnerable and directly connected to his case. He couldn't forget that.
Taking a breath, he opened his eyes, knowing he needed reality to chase away the lingering dream images. Turning his head, he saw Haley walking toward him with two mugs of coffee in her hands, a bright smile on her face and light in her striking blue eyes, and his resolve to keep her at a distance immediately fled. She'd put on worn jeans and a tank top that clung to her curves, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which emphasized her natural beauty. He was instantly attracted.
"Do you want coffee, Matt? It's black, but I can add creamer if you want, or a touch of vanilla."
"Black is fine." He desperately needed a shot of caffeine to clear his head. He sat up, swinging his legs to the floor, and accepted the mug with a grateful smile. "Thanks."
"I also made breakfast. Nothing fancy—just scrambled eggs and toast." She settled into the chair across from him. "I thought you might be hungry. There's also leftover pizza if you prefer that."
"The eggs are fine. You didn't have to cook for me."
"You didn't have to stay and protect me. Breakfast was the least I could do." She sipped her coffee. "Did you look through my files?"
He was grateful for the question, for the opportunity to think about something other than how much he wanted to kiss her. Clearing his throat, he said, "I did look through them. They were certainly more detailed than the file we got from the police."
"Did anything jump out at you?"
"No, but your notes about Brooke definitely make me want to talk to her."
"I actually looked online for her this morning. Brooke works for a marketing firm owned by Jill Adler."
"Of course she does," he said dryly. "The Westbridge grads like to hire their own. What does their client list look like?"
"Companies with Westbridge grads in the CEO chair. Not all, but a lot."
