Page 10

Riley

“ S he’s infuriating. ” I run both hands over my face while Elliot tries hard not to laugh. “Seriously, you should’ve seen how she looked down her nose at the guest bedroom.”

“Well, to be fair, you don’t have the greatest decorating skills.”

“I bet she saw all his books and it freaked her out,” Tucker interjects.

“You guys are hilarious.” I cross my arms. The monitors in Tucker’s office are all on, and from them, I can see my place. So far, there’s been no activity whatsoever, and since Jules was in her bedroom when I left, I’m assuming she must be napping.

“I honestly can’t wait to actually meet the woman who has our dear Riley all in knots,” Elliot says.

I glare at him. “I am not in knots.”

“I’d argue that point,” Tucker replies.

“And you’d lose. I just don’t appreciate someone who thinks she’s better than me just because her grandfather was an actor.”

“An incredibly famous actor,” Tucker corrects.

“Fine. But she wasn’t.”

“No,” Elliot says. “But she has been through a lot, so maybe cutting her some slack wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Need I remind you—she looked at my house like it was one gust of wind away from blowing over.”

“Or, consider this, you misread the situation because you’ve already made up your mind about who she is as a person.”

I glare at Elliot. “You know, it wasn’t that long ago you’d shut Nova out.”

“And I realized my mistake. That’s how I can offer you brotherly advice now.” He grins. “And how I can see that you are in knots.”

As much as I love a debate, this isn’t one I’ll win. I turn to Tucker. “I need to get back, and you guys are not being helpful.”

“So sorry, little brother,” Elliot says. “Tell us how we can help you.”

“Find the guy who killed Jules’s grandfather and tried to kill her so I can get this woman out of my house and move on with my life.”

“I’ve got nothing new so far,” Tucker says. “I checked in with Loyotta earlier, and he said he sent a team to handle the motel room and survey the area for any witnesses. No luck. All the cameras in that area were a bust, too. Our guy knew how to avoid them.”

“Of course he did.” I check my watch, noting that it’s nearly five forty and I’ve been here for over an hour. “I need to go pick Jules up. Are you guys coming to dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Elliot replies.

“I’ll be there too,” Tucker adds.

Both of them are grinning like idiots. “You guys are taking way too much pleasure in my misery.” My cell rings before they can answer, and I note Odie Landers’s name on the screen. “Fantastic. Hunt,” I answer as I wave to my brothers and head out of Tucker’s office.

“Since my sister was spotted getting off of a private plane in Texas two nights ago, I’m assuming you did find her?” His tone drips with anger. “You forget that you’re not the only one who was looking for her.”

Great. “She didn’t want you aware of her location because she doesn’t want you coming to get her.”

“So you lied to me. You work for me, Mr. Hunt. Not my sister. I should have been notified the moment you found her.” Gone is the sympathy-seeking charm he’d used when we first met. Now, I have a feeling I’m getting a look at the real Odie.

“Actually, I’m a contractor who works for no one.

Your sister had a concern for your safety, and since I’m actively investigating the man who killed your grandfather and very nearly succeeded in gutting your sister two nights ago, I decided it was safer for everyone involved if I kept her location a secret. ”

He’s quiet a moment. Should I have said “gutted”? Probably not. It’s a bit more colorful than I like to be, but this guy is grating against my nerves.

“She was hurt?”

“She nearly died,” I reply. “I managed to get there in time, but she’s clearly in danger.”

“But she’s safe now?”

“She is.”

“Where are you keeping her?”

“Close,” I reply. “At her request,” I add, so he can’t come at me for outrageous kidnapping charges.

“I want to talk to her.”

“Then I’ll have her call you.”

“No. Now. Hand her the phone. You said she’s close, so hand it over.”

I climb into my truck. “I’ll have her call you back,” I say again, this time hardening my tone so he understands he won’t be ordering me around.

I try to have understanding, to look at it from his point of view—a worried brother who just wants to know his sister’s safe.

“I’m not with her at the moment, but she is being protected,” I assure him.

“As soon as I get back to her, I’ll have her call you, okay? ”

He sighs. “I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

“I can understand that. I promise you that she is.”

“When is this going to just be over?” he asks into the phone. “Have her call me, please. I know she can be stubborn, too, so do what you can to make her call. Please?”

“You have my word, Mr. Landers.”

“Thank you.”

I turn on the truck, and a few seconds later, it switches the call to Bluetooth. “Did you check your grandfather’s emails?” I ask as I pull out of the drive.

“I did. There was no mention of an Ian Fletcher. But I did find some emails to his publisher that were concerning.”

“How so?” I turn down the road that will take me back to my house.

“He was trying to buy out his publishing contract.”

“Why would he do that?” I park in front of my house but don’t turn off the engine.

“I have no clue. Being published was a goalpost for him, but he’d been trying to terminate the contract, and they were requesting he repay the advance plus ten percent for damages.”

“How much was the advance?”

“Two million dollars.”

“Two million dollars?” I repeat. Surely I heard him wrong. Granted, I don’t know what a typical book deal goes for, but that seems insanely high.

He sighs. “It’s a lot of money, and it makes absolutely no sense why he was trying to get out of it.”

“Will you send me those emails? As well as a copy of the contract.”

“Don’t you think that’s something the police should handle?”

“Do you want to find out what happened to your grandfather soon or wait until all the red tape is cut through?”

“I’ll send it over as soon as we’re off the call.”

“Great. I’ll talk to Jules and have her call you back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hunt.”

“Yeah. Talk soon.” I end the call and take a deep breath as I prepare for the fight I’m likely about to walk into. She’s going to be furious that he knows she was found and that he wants her to call him back.

And speaking of—I tap on Jesper’s contact information. “What can I do for you?” he asks when he answers on the second ring.

“Someone saw us on that tarmac and identified the woman who was with me. I want to know who it was.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He ends the call, so I climb out of the truck and head inside.

The moment I step into my house, I feel a shift. A delicate floral scent clings to the air, and the bathroom door is open. The place already smells like her, and it’s only been a few hours.

She pops her head out of the bathroom. “I’m ready,” she says quickly before shutting off the light and stepping out in a pale pink dress that falls below her knees.

Her blonde hair falls to just below her shoulders in smooth waves, and she’s painted something delicate and pink on her lips as well as dusted her cheeks in blush.

She’s wearing sandals on her feet, and I can see the tips of toes that were probably painted before she was attacked, given there are some chips in the blue polish.

My heart jumps at the sight of her, which infuriates me.

I cannot be attracted to her.

She’s a client.

And I’ve sworn off any kind of romantic attachment for—well—forever.

So, even as I desperately want to tell her how beautiful she looks, I ignore the urge and go the proverbial ice-cold bucket of water on this moment route. “Your brother called. He knows you’re here.”

Her expression falls, and the light that had been in her eyes fades. “How? You said you wouldn’t tell him.”

“I didn’t. Someone saw us when we got off of the plane. I have someone looking into it.”

She closes her eyes tightly. Does she realize just how much the very air around her changes when Odie is mentioned? “Is he coming out?”

“He wants to talk to you.” I reach into my pocket and withdraw my phone then hold it out.

She reaches out and takes the phone, fingers brushing my palm when she does. “We need to leave for dinner.”

“Call him on the way.” Turning, I head for the door, and she follows me, all the while holding the phone as though it’s a bomb about to blow. I open the door then close it as soon as she’s inside my truck.

By the time I get into the truck, she’s already tapped his contact, and the phone is ringing.

The truck kicks the phone over to Bluetooth right as he answers, “Hello?”

She clings to the phone but doesn’t say anything.

“Jules?” he says, tone shifting to one of concern. “Is that you?”

“Hey, Odie.”

“Jules.” He breathes a sigh of relief that echoes through the speakers of my truck. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve put me through?” he asks. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I’m sorry. I—” She sets the cell aside and toys with her fingers in her lap.

“Grandpa is dead . Can you imagine how I felt when I saw his body but you were gone? I thought you might have been responsible!”

She turns to stare out the window, and I watch as she completely shuts down. I can’t even get myself to put the truck into Drive because I’m so focused on her response to him. Aside from abuse victims, I’ve never seen anyone shut down like this.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I’m sorry you were worried, Odie. I was scared. I made a bad choice.”

“Your life seems to be one bad choice after the other,” he scolds. “But running away from this was a low point, even for you. How much have you had to drink since he died? Are you even sober now?”

I can’t listen to this anymore. “This conversation ends now. You know she’s safe. But I didn’t have her call you so you could sit here and berate her.”

He’s silent. “I didn’t realize she was on speakerphone.”

“Which only makes it worse. Send me what I asked for, and we’ll check back in as soon as we have something.” I press the End Call button on the steering wheel.

Jules is sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she replies, turning to face me.

There are no tears in her eyes, no anger in her expression.

She’s beat down. So used to being broken that the shards have formed new edges.

Scar tissue on her heart. Ragged and impenetrable.

“We’re late for dinner,” she says, shifting her attention back away from me and out the window.