Jason (Blue Halo Book 2)
Jason: Chapter 1

Courtney’s heels clicked in even beats against the polished concrete floors, the long hallway otherwise quiet. She couldn’t repress a wide smile.

She’d just finished an interview with the Mountain Media Radio Station. Eep. She’d sat there and talked about her little coffee shop, The Grind, to hundreds of listeners for almost half an hour.

Someone needed to pinch her, because she had to be dreaming. The Grind was her baby, her seedling, grown from the ground up on nothing but sheer courage and hard work. Oh, and every last dollar she’d had. It could have sunk. It could have easily drained her savings. Killed her dream. It hadn’t.

If possible, her smile widened.

Idaho’s Most Unique Coffee Shop. Yep, that was the honor she’d won, awarded to her by Living in Idaho Today Magazine… and God, but it was everything. And it just went to show that hard work did pay off. Taking big, scary, I-might-lose-everything-but-I’m-doing-it-anyway chances could turn out great.

She turned a corner, smiling at a man who passed her.

Since the article had run, the shop had been beyond busy. It seemed like everyone in Idaho wanted to visit. Heck, everyone everywhere. The article being shared on most social media platforms hadn’t hurt either.

Shaking her head, she turned the next corner. Her gaze zeroed in on the end of the hall—and her feet came to an abrupt halt.

No entry, maintenance in progress.

The sign sat in front of the staircase she’d used to reach the eighth floor.

What the heck? She’d just walked those stairs less than an hour ago.

Her steps slowed as she drew closer. She tried the knob. Locked.

Crap. Not good. Not for her, anyway.

Nibbling her bottom lip, she looked around. There was an elevator back the way she’d come. A small elevator that fit four, maybe five people, tops. She’d seen it on the way in, had almost stepped inside, but then her stomach had convulsed, sweat beading her brow.

Heck, she’d felt like she was on the verge of a mini panic attack.

Claustrophobia. It was new to her… and she had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

All because of what had happened to her less than a month ago.

She swallowed at the memory. She’d been locked in a walk-in freezer at The Grind, with a reporter’s dead body beside her. Freezing. Unable to get out. The guy who had locked her in there had wanted her phone. He’d then proceeded to use that phone to hurt her friend Grace.

The man was now dead, but what he’d done to her was something she’d never forget.

She didn’t want to get in the elevator. She didn’t even want to look at the small space. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t just camp out by the stairwell like a weirdo, waiting for whoever had locked the door to unlock it.

Could she?

No. Knowing her luck, one of the radio hosts would walk past and boom, her new phobia would be splashed all over the next talk segment.

Argh. Turning, she headed toward the elevator, every step feeling heavier than the last.

Come on, Courtney. Don’t be dramatic.

It was an elevator, for Pete’s sake. She’d traveled in the things her entire life. She should not be feeling like she was walking to her impending death.

When the elevator came into view, her breath actually halted in her throat. For a moment, she needed to work hard to get the air flowing again.

You’ve. Got. This.

Straightening her spine, she stopped at the doors, jabbing the button just a bit too aggressively. The doors slid open, and she tried to step in, but her feet wouldn’t move. Hell, they might as well have been super-glued to the concrete floor.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. When she opened them again, it was to see the doors closing.

Crap! Her arm shot out, stopping them in their tracks. Then, refusing to allow her ridiculous mind to prevent her from doing a completely normal, everyday task, she stepped inside and pressed the button for the first floor.

Good. This was good. Progress.

That thought lasted for about half a second. Then the door closed. Suddenly, her heart catapulted into her throat. Sweat beaded on her brow again, and for a second, she thought she might pass out right there and then.

Scrunching her eyes closed, she began to babble to herself.

“You’re okay, Courtney. It’s just an elevator. It’s just eight floors. You’re almost—”

The entire car jolted to a stop. Her bag slipped off her shoulder, and her ankles wobbled as the elevator shuddered. It wasn’t a let’s-pick-more-people-up stop, and it definitely wasn’t a you’ve-reached-the-first-floor stop.

No. This was different. Wrong.

For a second, everything stilled. Her heart. Her breathing. Every thought in her head. Everything except her insides, which were twisting and turning. Then walls started to close in, the room shrinking before her eyes.

Oh, God. This wasn’t good.

When she finally sucked in a breath, she could have sworn she smelled the same thing she had that day. The day when she’d been locked in the walk-in freezer…

The smell of Nicole’s rotting body.

The reporter had been dead for days. And her body had lain right beside Courtney for over an hour… until the freezer had finally been opened.

Glancing up, she noticed she’d only just passed the sixth floor. Still so high…

She touched the blue gem hanging around her neck. A gem that had been passed down in her family for generations that she was rarely caught without. Usually, it calmed her. This time, it didn’t.

She pressed against the wall and slid to the floor, then fumbled through her bag.

Phone. She needed her phone. Where the heck was it?

When her fingers slid over cold metal, she yanked it out, dialing the office where she’d just had her interview. The call immediately went to voicemail.

Oh, sweet Jesus. This could not be happening.

After leaving a quick message that she prayed was at least partially comprehensible, Courtney hung up. She sat there for a solid twenty seconds, trying not to pass out. Trying not to let the nausea that was stewing in her stomach crawl up her throat.

Grace. She needed Grace. Not only was the woman a good friend, she was also a therapist. If anyone could talk her down from near hysteria, it was her.

The phone rang three times before Grace picked up. “Courtney! How’d the interview go?”

“Grace. I need help.” And maybe an oxygen tank. She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m trapped. I can barely breathe!”

Muffled male voices sounded in the background before Grace spoke again. “Where are you trapped and why can’t you breathe, Courtney? Are you okay?”

Okay? Was a person okay when they felt like they were suffocating in a perfectly well-ventilated steel deathtrap box? Or were they just plain crazy?

She tried to steady her voice, but Lord, it was hard. “I just finished my interview and went to take the stairs, but they were locked or under maintenance or something stupid, so I had to take the elevator.” Big breath in, big breath out. “I’ve been struggling with enclosed spaces since Kieran shut me in the freezer with… with Nicole’s body.”

Since he’d zip-tied the thing shut, plunging her into darkness. Freezing. Terrified. It had only been for an hour, but Heaven Almighty, it felt like a lifetime. The cold. The stench. And right now, her mind was trying to trick her into thinking she was living it all over again.

Courtney scrunched her eyes shut, trying to push the memory down.

More muffled male voices in the background. Logan, Grace’s boyfriend, and someone else. His friend Blake, maybe?

“Courtney, Logan’s calling Jason. He’s right around the corner from the radio station and might be able to go to you.”

Her eyes flew open. Jason? She couldn’t let him see her like this!

The guy was one of eight former military men who owned and ran Blue Halo Security together. He was also ridiculously attractive. And sweet. And caused her to get tongue-tied and nervous every time she was near him.

But she couldn’t give up help, either, not when she felt like she was seconds from suffering a heart attack.

“Courtney? Are you still with me?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, but nausea coiled in her belly, stealing her voice. Instead, Courtney nodded, knowing full well her friend couldn’t see her. “Mm-hm.”

“Logan’s already on the phone with him. He won’t be long. A couple minutes tops. Until he gets there, I want you to focus on your breathing, okay?”

Breathing. The one thing that should come so easily for her, but in this moment, she needed to relearn it. “Okay.”

“I want you to take a deep breath in with me.” She heard Grace suck in a large breath, and Courtney followed, filling her lungs. “Good. Hold the breath, two, three, four. Now breathe out, two, three, four.”

Courtney listened to her friend’s calming voice. It was the only thing keeping her stable at the moment. Each subsequent breath came easier. The anxiety was still there, trying to bubble to the surface, but Courtney used everything inside her to block it out. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

They remained like that for long minutes, and Courtney was just about in a trance when she heard a thud on the roof of the elevator. Her gaze shot up and she was momentarily pulled out of her calm. Reminded that she was in a cube. Four walls boxing her in.

Her breaths shortened again just as a hatch in the roof of the elevator opened and Jason jumped inside.

Well, if she thought the space looked small before, that was nothing compared to now. It was absolutely tiny. Scratch her earlier thoughts of four or five people fitting in here. If they were Jason’s size—super-soldier size—it would be two, max.

He stepped close to her, lowering to his haunches, his deep brown eyes studying every inch of her face. “Hey, Court. How you doing?”

Oh, boy. Even in the midst of terror, she could get lost in those eyes. “I’ve been better.”

The side of his mouth tugged up, showing off one of his ridiculously gorgeous dimples.

Grace sounded through the phone. “Jason?”

“Yep. I’ve got it from here.”

She sighed. “Good. Call me if you need me.”

“Will do.”

Grace hung up but Courtney continued to sit there, frozen, like one of those statues of a woman holding an urn, but her urn was a phone.

Jason reached out, gently sliding the cell from her hand. His fingers grazed hers, and for a moment, she was pulled out of her haze, pinged by a wave of electricity cascading down her arm.

She sucked in a quick breath.

Jason tilted his head to the side. “You want to get out of here?”

Heck, yes, she did. “I do. But… we’re not moving.”

This time, both sides of his mouth lifted, and good golly, but there was a rush of something magical in her belly.

“We aren’t. But if you want, I can lift us both through that hole up there.” He pointed up. “I already pried open the doors on the sixth floor. I would open these doors, but we’re between floors right now.”

Lift her? To the top of an elevator? It was an effort not to squeak like a scared mouse at his suggestion. She knew he was all kinds of strong, so much stronger than most men, and capable of things he shouldn’t be capable of. But the idea of trading this terrifying small space for another, darker one…

She opened her mouth to say yes, but the word caught.

He studied her for another beat, then, instead of urging her to stand, he sat beside her, so close that his heat penetrated her side. “How’d the interview go?”

Interview…? So, they were dropping the scale-the-elevator idea in exchange for chitchat?

“Good.” She wet her lips. “I spoke about my mugs.”

His deep chuckle skirted through her belly, causing little vibrations. Her lips almost tilted up.

“Did they ask which was your favorite?”

Had he shifted closer? Because he felt closer. “Yes. I said it would be like asking a mother to choose her favorite child. Impossible.”

Jason laughed again. Yep, another belly flip. She snuck a peek at him from below her lashes. “If they’d asked me, I would have said your ‘Bob’ mug.”

This time, it was Courtney who chuckled. The mug said This is Bob. Bob has no arms. There was a stick figure picture of Bob, then below, Knock, Knock. Who’s there? It isn’t Bob.

“You’re right. That’s a good one.”

There was a pause, and even though she was no longer looking at him, she could feel his eyes on her, like hot beams melting her insides.

“I like the new streaks in your hair,” he said quietly.

She absently touched the side of her head. There had been two streaks of bright pink in the blond the last time he’d seen her. Last night, she’d felt like a change and dyed the streaks purple. Mostly because she thought they’d match her new purple sneakers for work.

“Thank you. I felt like a change.”

“Good choice. You look beautiful.”

Okay. This time, it wasn’t just her stomach that vibrated at his words. It was all of her.

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