“You got eyes or do I have to explain all you saw the last ten minutes?” Deke asked.
Chace pressed his lips together, not pissed, trying not to smile.
That made Deke pissed.
“Is this the time to do this?” Deke asked.
“Just keep an eye,” Chace returned, getting a lock on it. “We need to get Victims Assistance to her, give us a call. And make that call, Deke. She was attacked, beaten and from what she reports, strangled to the point that it was a seriously close call. And keep your shit about that too,” he said the last quickly, a good cop, a smart man, not missing any of Deke’s responses from the minute he saw him to that second in the hall. “She’s here. She’s gonna be fine. And you gotta help her be fine if she needs someone to lay it out for who she doesn’t fear is gonna go out on a mission of vengeance and wreak havoc across the United States until he finds that for her.”
Deke didn’t think he was funny.
What he did do was grunt, “I hear you.”
Chace stood aside and said, “Go.”
Deke didn’t hesitate.
He went.
* * * * *
“Right, Lieutenant Keaton.” Pause. “Okay, thanks, uh…Chace.” Pause. “Right. I’ll let you know. Thanks again.” Another pause. “Right, good-bye.”
Jussy hung up, kept at her phone, thumb sliding over the screen and Deke knew she was checking texts since it seemed like a hundred of them came while she’d been talking to Chace.
She finished with that and lifted her big brown eyes to Deke.
She was sitting cross-legged on his couch. She’d left the station with the windbreaker but the minute he got her up in his trailer, he found a flannel shirt of his and made her switch it out.
The cops didn’t fuck around processing her phone so they could give it to her before they left and she didn’t fuck around making her calls while Deke made her instant coffee, gave her aspirin, made his own calls to his crew and changed the sheets on his bed.
Now she was on his couch and Deke was hips to his kitchen counter.
“Well, you heard most of it but don’t know the texts so let me sum up,” she announced then launched right in, “Lieutenant Keaton is now Chace to me and he’s fully briefed. I’ve called Joss and Dana and they lost their minds. I got through to Lacey and she lost her mind. I think I talked Joss and Dana out of dropping everything and flying out here because my mom can be dramatic and I don’t need that. And Dana is sensitive, she’d take one look at me and lose it and I don’t need that either.”
She drew in a huge breath, winced through it, and kept talking in that grainy voice that was getting better but still pissed him way the fuck off.
“I thought I talked Lacey out of canceling gigs, getting in her private jet and hauling ass out here. I also thought I’d talked her out of showing on Sunday. But Jiggy, her manager, just texted and said she’s back on that rant. He also shared that they’ve not had any threats or seen anyone creepy or, I should say, anyone creepier than some of the usual creepy that follows Lacey around. But he’s beefing up her security because I told him that I figure that asshole meant Lacey when he said ‘the other one.’ And I told Jig to keep her away because we don’t need to make things easier for that guy with both Lacey and me right here.”
She stopped talking and Deke gritted his teeth, holding himself back, giving her space until it looked like she’d crumble under the weight of her words taking her back where she was just a few hours earlier with that fucking guy.
If she started to crumble, he’d go to her.
Just like Jussy, she pulled it together so he stood where he was.
“Jiggy assured me he’d talk her out of showing here, even on Sunday,” she continued. “Lacey’s a bona fide spitfire so he might or might not be able to do that. Mr. T, however,” she lifted her phone and shook it, “doesn’t get talked out of anything he doesn’t want to get talked out of. He’s texted that he’s already booked his flights and will be here early this evening in order to ‘oversee the investigation’…his words. I gave Chace a heads up about that too.”
It was awesome, though not surprising, she had people who cared so much about her.
And it would be interesting (read: funny) to watch Chace work under the thumb of whoever this Mr. T guy was.
Carefully, Deke noted, “You didn’t call your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother,” she shot back.
He only lifted his chin slightly and said softly, “Your call, gypsy.”
She looked away, swallowed like it was painful, Deke again beat back what seeing that made him feel then she looked back to him.
“Mr. T has also activated my publicist,” she shared. “I don’t use her often but she’s on retainer. She’s going to be contacting Chace in order to coordinate anything that needs to be done in case any of this leaks.”
“Chace promised me he’d keep a lid on it and the man’s a friend, Jussy. Know him well, through good times and seriously bad. So I can tell you he’s a damn fine man and a really good cop. He makes that promise, he’ll put all he’s got into keeping it,” he assured her.
“Good to know,” she mumbled.
Deke studied her, knowing from what he saw that Chace was pushy about the ice because her face was fucked up but the swelling wasn’t as bad as it could have been so it could have looked a helluva lot worse.
He just hoped it could have felt a helluva lot worse and now didn’t.