Accidental Protector: A Marriage Mistake Romance Page 16

  “Who was that?” Aunt Judy asks.

  “Fred Wilson.” I’d thought saying his name would be better than saying his occupation. However, the moment I’d said it, I realize my mistake.

  “Oh, your lawyer,” Aunt Judy says with a nod.

  She has a memory for names and people. Probably remembers I’d worked with him to get my Nevada license. There was also a time I had to use his services when I chased a cheating fuck across the California line into Nevada.

  The man was more than a simple coward two-timing his old lady. He'd been armed, dangerous, and extremely pissed off that I'd caught photos of him with his mistress, while he also had an open bag full of coke.

  I'd made several local papers, bringing him down for the police. Too bad the fuck tried to turn around and sue me for assault, after I'd knocked out two of his teeth, getting him in handcuffs. Since it happened in Nevada jurisdiction, I needed Fred.

  The new license, I'd needed more recently. At the time, Cesare hadn’t completely gotten his claws in Jess. Aunt Judy was naturally curious why I wanted a Nevada license.

  I hadn’t told her about my gut instincts, how I was already looking into who Cesare Lucient was, and what he wanted.

  Lucky hasn’t said a word, and isn’t eating the rest of her food, either. She just picks at her rice glumly.

  She, too, now knows exactly who Fred is, and why I’d contacted him. This chick isn't stupid.

  We can’t stay married, so a divorce is our only option, yet...I’m not as excited about the idea as I should be.

  “Anybody want some sopapillas or fried ice cream?” I ask. “Damn good ones here.”

  “No, thanks. I’m stuffed.” Lucky picks up her second margarita. “Still have this to finish, too.”

  “Oh, we almost forgot!” Aunt Judy says, picking up her glass, waiting. “Cheers.”

  Just to pacify her, I lift my glass so we can clink all three together, once again wondering how deep of a hole I’m digging for myself.

  After leaving the restaurant, we stop at a super store for a few groceries. I also pick up an extra set of sheets, blanket, and pillows. Last night, while sleeping on the couch, I hadn’t needed any of those, but will need them with Aunt Judy spending the night.

  Back at the condo, I help Lucky put away the groceries while Aunt Judy carries the package of new sheets to the bathroom and the stackable washer-dryer combo in there, claiming new sheets are always too stiff for anyone to sleep comfortably.

  “So, what did your lawyer have to say about the divorce?” Lucky asks when we're alone.

  I could tell that was on her mind ever since Fred left our table. “He hasn’t said anything yet. Just emailed him this morning.”

  “When?”

  “This morning,” I repeat.

  “Before or after the storm?”

  My jaw pinches.

  It shouldn’t matter, but I can tell that it does to her. As confident and bold as she can be, in some ways, she’s as soft as a kitten. Vulnerable.

  “Before.” Lifting her chin with one finger, I lean in closer. “Happy?”

  Her eyes take on a glow even as she tries not to smile. I try to avoid it, too, and lean in close enough for our lips to touch.

  I’m not sure what I expected to happen and should've known the reaction I’d have to our lips meeting.

  The total instinct I’d gone with this morning returns with a vengeance. I harbor very few regrets, and kissing isn’t one of them. Neither is what happened this morning, or how the memories hitting right now make me want her all over again.

  I could easily regret knowing this has to end, but I’m not about to let that take over right now.

  Her arms curl around my neck, and I pull her closer, feeling the heat of her body merging with mine as our tongues play a seductive game of hide and seek.

  I could get used to this, and it hits me then that I’ve never played this game before. I don’t know the rules.

  In normal circumstances, she’d be completely off limits.

  I’ve purposefully stayed away from women like her. The kind that would make me want to take them home, introduce them to my family, go on real dates, and get me thinking about the future in ways that I’d long ago determined weren't in the cards.

  It’s still not in the cards. I’ve already defined what I need.

  That’s why I became a PI and then a bounty hunter. Neither are nine to five, married family man occupations. Iraq left me restless, too shocked and awed for the blandness of slow civilian life.

  I pull out of the kiss while I can. While I can listen to sanity.

  The pinkish splash on Lucky’s cheeks as she looks over my shoulder tells me I’ve just dug my hole deeper. Fuck.

  And Aunt Judy must be paying attention again. She's been watching us the whole time, a glad, longing smile on her face.

  Lucky turns around to empty another bag. Without a word, or backward glance, I help her empty it and put everything away, and then haul the trash out to the garbage chute at the end of the hallway near the elevator.

  I take my time with the chore. Contemplating what I can and should do about Lucky’s involvement in my life. It’s deep. Simply sending her back to Scottsdale isn’t an option.

  Cesare would find her.

  That’s why I brought her here, so I can keep an eye on her twenty-four seven. So I can keep her safe.

  It's a damn roller coaster, isn't it? One that's out of control and about to fly off its track.

  For the first time since this entire escapade began, I have an overwhelming urge to blame Jess.

  Then I get angry at my own stupid ass.

  I can’t do that. Won’t.

  She has no fault in this. None.

  She wouldn't get involved in something so dangerous that others could get hurt. Not willingly. She'd just been slow to realize the danger. Which is why this whole thing has been so damnable, so confounding, from the start.

  It makes no sense. She disappeared without a trace, a different woman, who should've known better.

  “Damn it, Jess,” I whisper. “What the hell were you thinking? What's really behind all this?”

  I need answers. None of this will ever end till they're mine.

  I hear my phone ringing as I open the door to the condo and head straight for the counter where I’d set it down along with the bags of groceries. My stomach tightens even though I highly doubt it’s Cesare calling.

  It’s too soon.

  He likes to make people wait. Sweat it out a bit. That gives him more control. A classic textbook sociopath.

  “That’s the second time,” Lucky says from the sofa where she and Aunt Judy are sitting. “It went off earlier, while you were hauling trash.”

  Eli’s name is lit up and that surprises me. I figured finding Charlie would be a simple feat for him.

  Relieved, I slide a finger across the answer icon. “Hey, didn’t expect a call.”

  “Didn’t feel like typing all I have to tell you,” Eli says. “How you doing, dude?”

  “Good,” I say, making my way across the room so I can step out on the balcony for privacy. “You?”

  “Living the dream, Bud, living the dream. You ever going to make it down here or not?”

  “Someday.”

  Eli laughs. “Bullshit. You won’t want to go home when you do. I guarantee it. Are you free to talk?”

  “I am now,” I say, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind me, appreciating his instincts.

  “Well, I found the little pencil dick you emailed me about.”

  I hadn’t said much in my email, but I'm not surprised by Eli’s crude description. I smile because it's accurate.

  “He’s living it up, man. Sitting real pretty with an all-tits-and-no-brains blonde babe, and hitting on every woman at the resort when she's snoozing by the pool,” Eli says. “I’m emailing you a dump of pics as we speak. Whoever wants evidence of infidelity, they've got it. Wait. Don’t tell me...this idiot is married, isn'
t he? Poor fucking girl, but how didn't she know? I can’t imagine anyone that stupid. Not with this dude walking around with his cock hanging out.”

  My first instinct is to defend Lucky, and it burns as I swallow it.

  “No. He’s not married,” I say. “The pictures are to make sure it stays that way.”

  Eli laughs. “What the hell, Bernard? Is your client his girlfriend’s father, or what? Some old fart who wants to make sure his little girl doesn’t get burned?”

  “Something like that,” I lie.

  “Smart man,” Eli says, chuckling again. “Can't trust a man who throws his money around in front of the ladies. Hope he teaches her a big ol' lesson, before somebody gets burned.”

  Lucky’s the smart one. Even though I’ve never met them, I wonder about her family.

  Why they wouldn’t want her to marry someone worthy of their daughter? Why they didn't see right through Charlie boy and his crap?

  “He’s part of the ink pen convention happening at the resort next to mine,” Eli says. “Can you believe that? An ink pen convention? Dudes who sell nothing but ink pens for a living. No joke. The fucked up thing is, they must do damn-well at it, considering the amount of money they're forking out for this place. Plus the hookers, drinks, and blow. I’m thinking the government has to be behind it at some level. Ink isn’t that fucking expensive. Neither is plastic. It's gotta be money laundering, or a black project budget funneling money through the system.”

  It's my turn to chuckle. “Nah, Eli. No conspiracies here.”

  “You're shittin' me. Pens are more boring than whatever paper pusher job Perez got himself. How's he doing anyway? You talk to him recently?”

  “Too busy.”

  I shake my head. I haven't said much about what Perez does for a living, the gig he landed with the Drug Enforcement Agency a couple years ago.

  All the time Eli spent in the Army stoked some wild ideas of secret Illuminati corruption. I learned years ago that there's more than one way of looking at things, and every direction is usually murky in its own right.

  Last time I talked to Perez, it was feeling him out for deeper contacts, intel we traded on Jess' case. I didn't expect much, and he couldn't help me. One more reason I don't want to dwell on Brad.

  “Getting the pictures was easy,” Eli says. “This Charlie guy can’t keep his dick zipped up. He and his bimbo are going at it hot and heavy whenever and wherever. They’ve already been warned by the poor kids running the pool, several times, so you tell me what you want? One word from me, and the powers that be will have this little prick and his girlie on the next flight back to the States.”

  “No,” I say, probably too fast, but the last thing I need is Charlie coming to Reno to hunt down Lucky. Not in the middle of everything else, Cesare and a make-believe wedding story for Aunt Judy.

  “Keep him there. Whatever you have to do, keep him there.”

  “Okay, still digging up dirt on him, are you?” Eli says. “Let me know if I can do more. Some assholes, you just love to see get what they deserve.”

  “Will do,” I say. “If you want to do me a favor, send him that shit while I look it over. Use proxies. Tell him he's got one last chance before it goes to his mama. We'll see if he's got a shred of sense left. And thanks for sending over the pictures. Appreciate it, Eli.”

  “Be warned, bro, some are graphic. Totally worth an upload to those sites where dudes like to choke their chickens, if you know what I mean. Except, ya know, he's like a little troll with the supermodels. Maybe some dudes like it that way, I dunno.”

  If it weren't for the rage prickling through my veins, I'd laugh.

  What a fucking snake.

  More than before, I’m glad Lucky found a way to get away from him when she did. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “No problem, man, and you think about making a trip down here soon. We have it all. Sun. Seas. Fun. Matty will enjoy meeting you. I’ve told her all about you.”

  “Congrats,” I say. “Now I’ll never make it to Aruba.” Matilda, his girl, is the very reason Eli needed my help a while ago. They’d had a falling out and he’d needed help finding her, after she ran off to Vegas.

  For reasons he doesn’t want to divulge, he’s not comfortable returning to the States. Might be his beef with the government, or something more. Either way, it’s not my business and I’ve never pressed him. I’d found his Matty, without her knowing, and he’d convinced her to return to Aruba.

  Eli laughs. “It’s all been good, Bud. All good. No more drama.”

  “I’ll think about it, then,” I say. “You take care.”

  “You, too, Bud.”

  I click off and pull open the balcony door. I expect to have two sets of eyes on me, figuring they'd both be curious who I was talking to.

  Neither Lucky or Aunt Judy are looking my way. They're staring at the TV.

  As I approach the sofa, Lucky looks up at me and smiles. “We’ve been watching the same series and a new season just started up.”

  “It’s set in England and it's absolutely addicting,” Judy adds. “Join us.”

  I have work to do, but I sit down next to Lucky instead. It’s good to see Aunt Judy smiling.

  She’s lost weight these past couple of months and aged. I’ve tried to protect her from the truth as much as possible, but there are limits to what I can do. The police keep in regular contact, anytime they think they might have a lead on Jess' whereabouts, but there haven’t been many.

  It’s as if she disappeared into thin air. Nothing found. Not her purse or car. No activity on her credit cards or phone. Aunt Judy thinks they're good signs. I know better.

  The show is boring, slow moving, and doesn’t hold my attention.

  Not much could with the way Lucky’s subtle citrus perfume fills the air. The couch also reminds me of this morning and the pleasure we’d had. And the pleasure I won't be giving her tonight with my aunt here.

  Fuck.

  She’s sitting on the edge of the cushion, eyes glued to the screen. I run a finger up and down her spine, lifting a brow when she glances over at me. She smiles real sweet and lays a hand on my knee as she turns back to the screen.

  Her body is a damn magnet.

  I keep running my hand up and down her back, twirling a lock of hair around my finger every now and then. It’s a dangerous game because I’m growing harder every second, yet, like a little kid playing with fire, I can’t stop. I’m encouraged to continue by the way her hand inches up my leg, massaging my thigh. Turning my dick to diamond.

  By the time the credits roll, I’m more than ready to carry Lucky off to bed and lay her down, even though I know that won’t happen. Can’t happen. Not tonight.

  Aunt Judy fights a big yawn worthy of Rip Van Winkle.

  “Think I heard the dryer buzz,” Lucky says, standing and stretching. “I’ll go make up the bed for you.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t. I'm definitely not kicking you lovelies out of your own bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Aunt Judy pats the cushion. “It’s softer than my bed at home. I’m sure I’ll sleep like a baby.”

  I won’t.

  Not with the hellfire stroked into my blood, knowing there's no release with my aunt sleeping in the next room. As I watch Lucky disappear into the bedroom, I get an idea. “You and Mindy can sleep in the bed,” I say. “It's huge. Plenty of space for two. I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’ve already said no,” Aunt Judy says. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Noah Bernard.”

  Boom.

  There's no arguing after that. I’d heard it dozens of times growing up.

  Then I recognize the expression forming on her face. The love that shines in her eyes.

  “I'm so happy for you, Noah, I'll say it again. So very, very happy. Your Mindy's a doll. I couldn’t have found a better match for you if I’d picked one myself.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around me in one of her famous hugs. “I’m so proud of you.”

  She’s tol
d me that before, many times, and each instance means the world to me. She's the only mother I’ve ever known. My own couldn’t have loved me more or done more for me than this woman. I’m committed to repaying her for all she’s done, and part of it means not disappointing her.

  That thought hits me harder as Lucky reappears. My match.

  As insane as it is, knowing the truth, tonight it's almost natural.

  13

  Sweet Dreams (Mindy)

  I hear Noah brushing his teeth in the bathroom when I walk into the bedroom after getting Judy settled on the sofa.

  She's so sweet and kind. Getting to know her just increases my determination to find out what happened to her daughter. Which, somehow, has to be connected to why Noah and I were drugged.

  I dig a t-shirt and pair of shorts to sleep in out of my suitcase plus my cosmetic bag holding my toothbrush and toothpaste. Then it hits me.

  I'm actually sleeping next to Noah tonight. This time, a whole swarm of butterflies take flight in my belly.

  It’s not the sleeping part I’m thinking about. It’s all the other things that could happen in bed.

  Fun things. Sexy things. Amazing things.

  Things that can’t happen, of course, because his aunt is only a wall away.

  Apparently, Noah isn't nearly as anxious. He steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and I have to shift my thighs. The same furious heat in my blood coalesces in the dull throb between my legs, a hot, wet, delirious torture getting worse with every second I stare at him.

  God, what's wrong with me?

  I've never been so sex obsessed in my life.

  Or so alive.

  I can barely look at him without certain thoughts invading my head. And the way my body reacts to his...it'd be embarrassing if it weren't so freaking instinctual. So automatic. So intense.

  If I had my way, what happened on the couch earlier would be happening regularly.

  Like on the hour.

  “It’s all yours,” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, toward the bathroom.

  “Thanks. I got Aunt Judy settled in. She had a paperback in her purse, said she’s going to read for a bit.”