Page 29 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

HOW DID SHE explain this? The polite thing to do would be to introduce Porter, except…

Who was he? She couldn’t go into detail.

The fewer people who knew her connection to Porter, the better.

If she went the other way… dropping Roxie in it wouldn’t be fair.

So who was, Porter, their surprise guest, supposed to be exactly… ?

“Uh…”

“Mom—”

“What a thing to wake up to…” Roxie’s voice cut Breck’s off and got everyone’s attention. “I’ve told you, Porter, how many times, you have to get over me. We’re over. You’re poor. Move on…”

That could be meant as a joke… or not. Breck had stepped in valiantly, which was a testament to his honor because, as far as she knew, the two men had never met. His attempts to introduce Porter would be more strained than hers.

Roxie had joined them at exactly the right moment. In a man’s shirt, legs bare, the brunette scooped up her tousled hair to toss it down her back.

“RoRo—”

“Do we need to have another conversation?” Roxie marched on over to grab Porter’s cuff. He wasn’t wearing a tie. If Porter didn’t need a tie, why did Breck? “Come with me and don’t say another word.”

Good. Roxie saved the day. And that was a stretch of friendship. The beauty dragged Porter back the way she’d come and, presumably, into her bedroom. Not somewhere an affianced woman should be taking an ex-boyfriend only a day after the groom-to-be was accused of having his own affair.

“Oh, that poor man,” Carolyn said like she was buying it. “He must love her dearly.”

“Not easy for any man to compete with Zairn Lomond.”

Was Alice duped too? It didn’t feel nice to misdirect such a kind and generous woman.

Her eyes met Breck’s.

“I should go and check they’re okay.”

Her feet were already taking her backwards. Breck didn’t say anything; what could he say? What she wanted him to do was get rid of the matriarchs. How exactly could she request he do that without offending them or tantalizing suspicions?

Backwards, backwards. At the last second, she spun to hurry into the hallway to Roxie’s bedroom.

“…crazy person showing up here…” Roxie’s voice snapped her trajectory to the closet. “What did you think that was going to achieve?”

“I was told to come here.”

Porter was just inside the closet while Roxie was further inside dragging a comb through her lush hair.

“Who told you to come here, Porter?” Sequoia asked, incidentally announcing her presence with the question.

“Do you mean to California or specifically up to the suite? You can’t do that, show up where I am.

People don’t know we know each other. Haven’t you ever heard of discretion?

It’s something a man in your profession should understand. ”

Roxie waved the comb in agreement. “See, listen to the woman, that’s what I said.”

“Even if you didn’t care about blowing my cover, what about Roxie?” she asked Porter. “Did you even consider what Zairn would think?”

The comb dropped to Roxie’s side. “Zairn? Why would he care?”

“We used to sleep together, you know,” Porter said like Roxie had to be reminded. The brunette’s expression morphed to enjoyment, no concern for miles. “I think she’s implying this rendezvous could be a rekindling of the flame, RoRo.”

“You think he might be threatened by you? By any man? Have you met Zairn Lomond? My Casanova?”

“The guy was accused of having his own affair yesterday.”

Turning around, Roxie propped herself against the vanity.

“So you think maybe you saw your chance and showed up to win me back? Oh, or that I called you to come here and get revenge?” Roxie perked up so bright, she bounced on her tiptoes.

“Oh my God, that’s what the press will think…

How exciting!” Looking this way and that, the woman didn’t find whatever she sought.

“We’re in LA, we need Crosby. Where’s Tripp’s cellphone? ”

“With Tripp, probably,” Porter said. “And I already talked to Zairn. He’s the only guy I know still working at that time like it’s four in the afternoon.

Do you think I was getting on a plane without checking this was for real?

Don’t get many calls at four a.m. demanding I get my ass on a plane to LA.

I wasn’t going anywhere without verification. ”

“Instead of calling me, the woman you used to screw, you called my lover?”

“Says the woman attempting to steal other men’s cellphones. How was I supposed to get in touch with the woman I used to screw when she doesn’t have a working number?”

Good point. “Borrowing other men’s cellphones. Borrowing ,” Roxie insisted. “I can’t believe my Casanova chose now to be all about discretion. We talked like ten minutes ago; he didn’t tell me you’d be showing up.”

“Surprise!” he sold it deadpan. “But I’m not here to see you, RoRo.”

“Why are you here?” she asked because the fundamental reason was important. “How did you know where we were?”

“Well, for starters, everyone knows where RoRo is because she’s a fricking media tornado wherever she goes.”

With the comb back in her hair, Roxie checked Porter’s reflection in the mirror. “Jealous? I could be a congressperson right now, if it wasn’t for the whole politics thing… I have presence. Appeal. I’m a popular woman.”

“So popular your ex couldn’t keep away.”

“It’s an excellent reason for him to be here in LA,” Roxie said. “This will play so well. It’s exactly the hype we need before the wedding. To remind everyone, you know, how glamorous and torrid our lives are.”

“My life’s just fine without torrid and glamorous, thanks,” Porter said. “I’m so damn happy you’re on another man’s plate, I’ll happily walk you down the aisle with your father and pay Zairn to take you off our hands.”

“Ha-ha,” Roxie drolled and tossed the comb to the counter. “Ah!” An apparent epiphany. “Tripp’s phone is in my bed.”

With purpose, Roxie marched between both of them to return to the bedroom and search the covers for a phone.

“Why is his phone in your bed?”

“How else was I going to talk to Zairn?”

“Yeah, shocking anyone might consider you have your own means of communication.”

“I do have my own, though I don’t know where it is. I have a lot of them. Astrid has the original… I think, maybe.”

“And Astrid is…?”

“In New York,” Roxie said, dialing the phone. “Now, shh, I need to have a private conversation. You two should figure this out.”

Roxie went back into the closet and closed the door. A few seconds later, the shower went on in the bathroom beyond. Maybe Tripp would be minus his own phone soon. Minus as in the thing would get waterlogged, when it came to ownership, he’d already lost that. For now anyway.

In the ensuing calm, she reoriented herself to focus on the Chicago ADA.

“You got a call?” she asked. “At four a.m.?” It didn’t make sense. “Who called you at four in the morning?”

What could be so urgent that they couldn’t wait for business hours? Or even semi-respectable hours?

“My boss.”

“The State’s Attorney? Why would a Chicago—”

“Because there’s a case here. Something hot that needs to be nailed down. Orders from the top.”

She didn’t follow. “The top?”

“Ackley,” Breck said, flipping her around on the spot. Where had he come from? Her guy was more interested in the ADA beyond than her. “He wants you in this meeting.”

“Porter Clement, meet—”

“Rankin Breckenridge,” the prosecutor interrupted and was already striding on by her, hand outstretched to Breck. “I know who you are, sir.” He got a sir? “Was that your mother I saw—”

“Yes, and she knows nothing about the situation.” Breck’s stern air wasn’t one to be messed with. See when he did that, and with the tie… Yum. He wasn’t playing fair. “Sequoia trusted you and you almost compromised her.”

“It wasn’t my intention. I believed Sequoia knew what was going on.”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know. I have no details.”

When Breck’s eyes met hers, she heard his silent request. Yes, he was still doing angry eyes, and he was happy to be the bad guy, if necessary.

Such a strong man with means far beyond hers, in every way, not only financial, and he was asking for direction.

That was how much she mattered to him. Whatever light she had, it would always reinforce his.

“We have a meeting downstairs with Ackley,” she said, gaze still on Breck’s. “If Ackley wants Porter in this meeting, he must’ve found something…”

“Related to Chicago,” Porter said. “My boss did tell me to act with absolute authority.”

“Suggesting Ackley’s interested in giving you something.”

“What could he have?” she asked, going just an inch closer. “Something he didn’t have yesterday? Something he didn’t have when we met with him.”

“Not necessarily,” Breck said, still disregarding Porter. The guy’s hand was at his side again, having never been graced by Breck’s. “Maybe he didn’t want to trust you until he could be sure he could trust you.”

So Ackley withheld something? That wouldn’t do much to ingratiate him or encourage her to further loosen her tongue.

“If LA can help Chicago prosecute my father, I support that,” she said, edging toward a decision. “But I don’t like men acting in concert, excluding the only woman—”

“I don’t think it was meant that way.”

“Don’t talk over her,” Breck said, maintaining his intimidating air. “You want to prove you respect her, then show her respect.”

Porter blanched, his hairline retreated as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to… I have great respect for Sequoia. I have great respect for you.”

“Breck understands the seriousness of the situation.” Playing almost mediator, she didn’t mind having a defender in her corner.

One much stauncher than Bastian; one who had no boundaries when it came to shielding her.

“He understands why I value the outcome so much. It’s extremely important to both of us.

Perhaps if you tell us more about your conversation this morning… ”