Zoey 101: An Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 4

Goddamn, but she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Chase wasn’t one to wax poetic, but when he looked at Zoey, all he could think was that her naturally red lips looked as sweet as ripe cherries, and her long semi-curly blonde hair resembled yellow satin, and her petite curvy body could make a centerfold weep with jealousy. She was Helen of Troy and Aphrodite and—

And he needed to get away from her. As soon as possible.

"That’s what he wants, right?" Zoey said, her sapphire brown eyes filling with panic. "To kill me, the way he believes my dad killed his daughter."

"Unless his need for vengeance disappeared sometime in the last 2 years," Chase said, his flat tone revealing his thoughts on the matter.

Twain Kuyper had not lost his thirst for revenge, Chase would bet his life on that. The man’s hatred for Max Brooks had run too deep. Zoey's father had been the surgeon who’d operated on Kuyper's daughter Delia's after she’d been badly injured in a car accident. Brooks had given Kuyper hope before the surgery, but not until they’d opened Delia up had they seen the extent of the damage. Nearly every organ in Delia Twain’s body had been crushed. She died on the table.

The death of one’s thirteen–year–old daughter would tear up any man, but for Kuyper, the heartache hadn’t ended there. His wife committed suicide two months later, and the man simply snapped. Apparently he’d always had a history of mental illness, but the deaths of his wife and daughter had promptly driven him over the edge, and so he’d turned his grief–turned–hatred onto the man who’d promised to save his daughter and failed.

"He killed my parents," Zoey murmured. "An eye for an eye, that’s what he said in court, remember? But they weren’t his only target. He wanted me dead."

And the only reason she was still alive was because of last–minute dinner plans with her girlfriends. Even years after the fact, Chase still thanked God that Zoey hadn’t been killed that night. But she had arrived home in time to see Kuyper fleeing through the front door, a gun in his hand. She’d been in a car full of friends, which was probably the only reason Kuyper had jumped into his own car and sped off without taking a shot at her.

"Well, he’s not going to finish the job," Chase said gruffly. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, mainly because his arms tingled with the urge to hold the woman in front of him. Hold her, and comfort her, and kiss her senseless.

Control yourself, Matthews, Nothing’s changed.

Yep, that was true, wasn’t it? Nothing had changed. Sure, Zoey was twenty– three now, no longer a grieving daughter. But those weren’t the only reasons he’d walked away from her all those years ago.

Truth was, even then she’d been too good for him.

"We’re going to keep you safe," he said.

Zoey shook her head. "If you’re talking protective custody, a safe house somewhere, I can’t do it. I’ve got two weeks to finish three paintings for my upcoming show."

For the first time since walking into the studio, Chase allowed himself to look around and what he saw stole his breath. Man, she was talented. Canvases filled the large loft, hanging on the walls, stacked up, sitting on easels. Each painting displayed bursts of color, fascinating abstract landscapes, random splashes of paint, some portraits that showed she was skilled in more than just abstraction. Her work was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

And, as usual, stubborn as hell.

"Is a show more important than your own safety?" he said, hearing the testiness in his voice.

"Of course not, but I’m not going to hide away like a scared rabbit." Her delicate chin lifted in resolve. "I lived in fear of this man once already. I won’t do it again."

Despite himself, he wanted to smile. This was the Zoey he remembered. Strong. Fearless. Charging into battle instead of running away. Her strength had awed him when he’d first met her. Not many other teenagers would have possessed the courage to sit in the same courtroom as a killer and finger him as the man who’d murdered her parents. Any of the other girls in the car that night could have identified Kuyper in court, but Zoey had insisted she needed to testify.

The day she’d stepped into the courtroom, he’d been so proud of her, his chest had almost burst.

"I figured you’d say that," he said wryly. "Which is why I’ve arranged for a bodyguard and put two patrols outside your house. Until Kuyper is caught, the guard is going to be your shadow. Wherever you go, he goes."

Zoey looked as though she was about to nod in agreement, then glanced at him sharply, an indefinable flicker in her Brown eyes. She studied him for a moment, as if weighing something in her mind, like a potential buyer appraising a new car.

Finally, she said, "No."

Chase didn’t bother hiding his surprise. "No to what?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, an action that drew her dark green shirt tighter over her delectable breasts. He swallowed and averted his eyes.

"No to the bodyguard," she elaborated.

A sigh lodged in his chest. "Are you serious? There’s a good chance Kuyper will come after you. You can’t be left unprotected."

"Who said I’ll be unprotected?" she answered with a faint smile.

Wariness climbed up his throat. Oh, boy. Why did he have a feeling he knew exactly where this was going?

"Zoey—" he started.

"You," she cut in. "I want you to protect me, Chase. And I won’t settle for anyone else."