by J. Kenner
“Sure.” I get up to get it while she continues.
“He got in touch with Randall and told him. I guess he thought it might soothe Randall’s grief to know I was out there. But Randall never contacted me. And Daddy said they never talked again. But before the ambulance got there, he told me I was in danger.”
“Danger, how?”
She shakes her head. “He didn’t say. You have to understand that I’m cleaning this conversation up. He was in pain. In and out of consciousness. He was talking, but a lot of it was nonsense. I think the only thing keeping him going was worry about me. It was hard to figure what he was saying. And I was scared and woozy, too. But a couple of things stood out. He said that Randall had a private attorney. A friend. And that I needed to talk to him. He said it was vital. He even used that word.”
“What’s his name?”
“He never said.”
I return with the water, then sit on the arm of Ryan’s chair.
She takes a sip before continuing. “I asked over and over, but…well, I don’t think he could remember. He only said I had to talk to the lawyer. And that I had to be careful. And he said that I should find you,” she adds to Ryan. “That you’d do for me what you did for Felicia. And then…and then he was gone.”
A single tear tracks down her cheek, and she closes her eyes before continuing. “I had no idea how to find you, so I started with Google. And it wasn’t hard. You were there. And the really wild thing was that I learned you two were married,” she adds, with a nod to me. “I found Nikki’s number and called her and said I wanted to surprise you. And I asked for Ryan’s work number so I could set up this fake surprise through him.”
“Why not call me?” I ask.
“It was such a weird coincidence that I guess I felt awkward. It’s been a lot of years. Plus, I’d seen online that Ryan was in London, and I was here, too. I’d come over after the accident because I figured whoever had run us off the road wouldn’t expect me to hide all the way across the ocean.”
She downs the rest of her water. “Also, I wanted to see where I was born.”
“You went to Randall’s townhouse,” Ryan says, and it’s not a question. “Did you talk to your uncle?”
“I wanted to. I thought about it. But I chickened out.”
I nod in understanding, then try to get us back on thread. “So you got Ryan’s work number from Nikki and sent a text, right?”
“Right. I’d gotten spooked. I was sure someone was following me, and when there was a break-in at the B&B I was staying at, I completely freaked out. I switched to a cheap hotel, and that’s when I got up the nerve to text Ryan.” She shrugs. “I only knew that it was a work line. I didn’t know if a text would even go through. But I tried that first because I was too scared to actually call.”
She looks between me and Ryan. “But you answered, and I was incredibly relieved. And we were going to meet at that pub.”
“In the text, you told me that I’d helped you before. Why?”
“I didn’t think you’d show for a stranger. And if you thought I was Felicia when you first saw me, I figured you’d at least stay.”
“But you never showed.”
She swallows. “I chickened out.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because of what Daddy said. About how you’d do the same for me as you did for Felicia. I—he’d told me the story about how you went down there and married her and tried to save her. But he was messed up. He was really bad. There was so much blood…”
We both give her a moment to collect herself, then I gently say, “Go on.”
“I was afraid. His last words were find the lawyer, find Felicia’s husband, be careful. And I was confused because before he’d said you’d helped her. Maybe I’d misunderstood and he was trying to warn me away. Because what if you’d hurt Felicia? What if you were the one who wanted to hurt me?”
“That’s why you didn’t show,” Ryan says.
“I left a note.” She shrugs. “Later, I called Nikki back and that’s when I learned that Jamie was coming in. And I figured I could get with Jamie and get a sense of you. Of whether you’d help me.”
“Except you’re forgetting about how you tried to get me back to the pub. The same day you met Jamie. Why did you pull another no-show? And why did you sign that text with an F for Felicia?”
Gabby’s brow furrows. “But—what? I didn’t.”
“Do not fuck with me,” Ryan says, then pulls out his phone. He swipes to the text I saw—the one that sent me over the edge—and he shoves the phone at her.
Her eyes widen as she reads, then she looks between both of us, hunching in on herself so that she seems like a terrified rabbit. “I didn’t send that,” she says. “I swear.” She grapples for the small backpack she probably uses as a purse. “Here. You can look for yourself. I—oh. I forgot. This one’s new.”
“Nice try,” Ryan says. “But we have your old one.” He pulls it out of his interior pocket and opens the texting app and the burner app.
“You texted Jamie from the primary phone number. You texted me from a virtual number.”
She nods. “Yes. So? I told you. I was being careful. What’s wrong?” she asks, and I turn to look at Ryan, who’s scrolling through the phone.
“It’s not here. The other texts between us are, but not that one. I…” He trails off and then lifts his head, looking right at her. “You could have deleted it before you tossed the phone.”
“I don’t even know what it is,” she counters, but I don’t think he hears her. He’s working something out, and he’s entirely in his own head.
It takes a moment, but he finally looks up. “Earlier today, in our texts, I called you Felicia.”
She nods.
“Why didn’t you correct me?”
“You texted me first. I didn’t want to go off on that tangent. I just wanted to know if you were going to help me. I regretted running when I saw you. But I was unprepared then.”
“You never sent any texts specifically saying you’re Felicia?”
“I swear, no.” Her eyes are wide. She looks completely earnest. And I hold my breath, unsure where any of this is going. “I don’t know how you got that text, but—”
“It’s okay,” he says, looking straight at Gabby. “I do.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You do?” Jamie asked, staring at him. “How?”
“Someone either cloned her phone or is spoofing a number. Wouldn’t be too hard.”
“Really?” Gabby said, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I figured you could track me—because of your job, I mean—but I never thought of that. You honestly think so?”
“If someone is trying to hurt you, I think you’re always better off assuming that they have a lot of resources. You’ve been lucky.”
“But here’s the real question,” Jamie said. “Why?”
Gabby shrugged. “I wish I knew, and God knows I’ve thought about it nine ways from Sunday because once I knew someone was trying to kill me, I was desperate to figure out why. I mean, hey. I read a lot of mystery novels.”
Jamie pointed at her. “And that is the Gabby I remember. Smarts mixed with a dash of snark.”
“I haven’t been feeling too snarky lately. But I knew that Randall was worth a fortune, and I knew that money makes people crazy. But money would be a stupid motive, because I didn’t inherit anything. Believe me, I would know if I was suddenly swimming in millions.”
“Any other motives come to mind?” Ryan asked.
She looked at him—straight at him—and then nodded. “Yeah. And I’m sorry about this one. It’s probably crazy and I don’t mean to bring back memories, but I wondered if someone from the past thinks I’m Felicia—and is annoyed because she’s supposed to be dead. Crazy, I know, but I also read a lot of thrillers.”
Ryan glanced sideways at Jamie, who was grinning right back.
“What?” Gabby asked.
“Not crazy,” Jamie said. �
��Been there.”
“And you ruled it out?”
Jamie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then she raised a brow, as if handing the question off to him.
“That means you haven’t ruled it out,” Gabby said.
“We mostly have,” Ryan countered. “But not completely. I’m not ruling anything out completely. Not yet.”
She looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed. “Was my sister a spy?”
“No,” Ryan said. “At least I never thought so until I met you. She was a sweet girl with a sharp wit. I liked her.” He smiled, remembering. “I liked her a lot. For whatever that’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot, actually.” Her voice was soft, her smile a little watery. “Thank you.”
“I don’t know what we’re going to find out in the long run,” Ryan said. “But the woman I knew was nothing but kind.”
Gabby nodded, then sighed. “It’s weird. I’m not sure if I want the reason behind this to be me or her. If it’s her, it probably means she wasn’t the kind of woman I’d want as my sister. But at least this might end when whoever is hunting her realizes the mistake. If it’s me, I have a perpetual target on my back.”
She stood and stretched. “Can I use your restroom?”
Jamie pointed it out to her, then moved from the arm of his chair to the coffee table so that she was facing him straight on.
“You believe her,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I do.”
“Good. So do I.”
“Pass me her backpack.”
“What?”
“I believe her,” he said. “But I’m not being stupid.”
“Ryan, come on. I—”
“No argument, Jamie. Someone drugged you. And if she’s staying here, I want to be certain.”
She picked up the backpack and tossed it to him. “She’s staying here?”
“If we send her back to a hotel and something happens, neither one of us will forgive ourselves. That’s why I’m looking.” He put the backpack down beside the table. “But I’ll at least do her the courtesy of asking her.”
“Thanks,” Jamie said, then brushed a sweet kiss over his cheek. “I love you.”
“I know.”
A moment later, Gabby came back, her eyes a little red, a little puffy.
“Hey,” Jamie said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Will it?”
“Ryan believes you.”
“Yeah, but he still wants to check my stuff. Go ahead.” She nodded toward the backpack. “Weird acoustics in this place.”
He laughed, but he still checked. Then he handed it to her. “I had to be sure.”
“It’s okay. I like that you’re thorough. Especially if you’re on my side.”
“We are,” Jamie said firmly.
“I’m glad. Because whoever is doing this will just keep coming after me, right?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ryan said. “And here’s the bad news. I think it’s you. Not Felicia. I think whatever’s going on is all about you.”
“Ryan!”
He reached over and squeezed Jamie’s hand. “I know, but it makes the most sense.”
“Why?” Gabby asked. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about Felicia. Really thinking about her, and really looking at you. I don’t think she duped anyone. Maybe it was a fair guess before I knew you were you, but now? No. Holding on to the delusion that she’s a spy…” He trailed off with a shrug.
“But—” Jamie cut herself off with a nervous glance toward Gabby.
“What?” Gabby looked between the two of them. “What’s wrong?”
Jamie’s brow furrowed as she looked at Ryan. “But then why did they leave you on the train? You said that supported the theory that the train attack was an extraction.”
“Supported,” he agreed. “But it doesn’t prove anything. And the more I think about it, the more I think I was just lucky. The train was almost across the bridge and definitely over the border by then. And, hell, maybe they wanted a survivor. Someone to go back to Randall and pour salt in his wound. Maybe they were just lazy and thought I’d bleed out.”
He met her eyes. “The truth is, I’ll never know why I survived. Maybe because I was meant to find you,” he added, brushing his thumb over Jamie’s cheek. “In the end the only thing I know for sure is that I did fail Felicia. And holding on to a cobbled-together story that she was a spy is—well, it’s just a bullshit way for me to shed a little guilt.”
He stood up, then shoved his hands in his pockets as he gathered his thoughts. “Maybe anybody else in the job would have failed her too, but I was the guy at the front lines, and I didn’t get it done. With you, Gabby, I will get it done. That’s a promise.”
He turned and met Jamie’s eyes. “And I keep my promises, don’t I, Kitten?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking at him with so much love. “You do.”
“Thank you,” Gabby said, wiping away a tear. “And not to put a damper on that awesome speech, but would you mind telling me how?”
* * * *
“I swear to God, I’m going to find out who the hell is behind this,” Ryan told Jamie. “Even if I didn’t like Gabby, I feel like I owe it to Felicia to take care of the sister she didn’t know she had.”
He’d just shut the door behind Baxter and Gabby. Ryan had intended to send Baxter alone to get the rolling suitcase she’d left at her hotel, but Gabby had insisted on going too.
“I’m glad you believe her,” Jamie said.
“I do,” he assured her. “You never doubted.”
“Blind faith,” Jamie said. “And I doubted a little. I just didn’t like that I did.” She glanced behind her at the door. “They will be okay, right?”
“They will. I have a feeling Baxter will stick close.”
“And then she’ll stay in the suite with us until we can figure this out.”
“That is also the plan,” Ryan said. They’d just finished talking about it. How Gabby would stay with them for the next few days. How Baxter and Ryan would do everything in their power to trace the threat—and eradicate it.
He’d had to call Damien, too, of course. He and Baxter had both come to London to oversee various security related issues at the London Stark Tower and at the hotel. And protecting Gabby was decidedly not on that particular Stark International agenda. Ryan hadn’t expected his friend to object, and he’d been right. Both Ryan and Baxter could still oversee the work. And at the same time, hopefully, they would save an innocent woman.
“What?” he asked, noticing the way Jamie was looking at him, her head cocked as she ran her teeth over her lower lip.
“Nothing.” She held out her hand, and he eyed her warily.
“What?” he repeated, and she just thrust her hand out more forcefully until he conceded and took it.
“Good man,” she said, then turned and tugged him toward the balcony, then pointed to the outdoor sofa. “Sit.”
“I do love a woman who knows what she wants.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” she said, then stood in front of him as she slowly pulled off the T-shirt she wore. She dropped it on the tiled balcony, then grinned at him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which he knew, but seeing her now, with her jeans hugging her curves and her nipples tight and her face full of mischief and longing…well, it just about undid him.
“What are you doing, Kitten?”
“We’re alone. You’ve had a long and stressful day and it’s not even dinnertime. I thought a little de-stressing was in order.”
“Is that what you thought?” he asked, stretching his arms out so they rested on the back of the sofa.
“Uh-huh,” she said. But it was more than that, of course. This was about guilt. About Jamie seeing inside him and knowing what he was battling. There was no way she could fix the past, but she could give him this in the present.
And damned if he didn’t love her for it.
But even that view seemed shabby compared to the woman herself.
She came closer and pressed her fingertip over his lips, silently ordering him to stay quiet. Then she reached down and unfastened his slacks so she could free his already steel-hard cock. She stroked him slowly, her eyes on his, as the ever-present embers between them grew to a full-fledged blaze.
He started to speak, but she shook her head. She took her hand away, then straddled him, holding his shoulders as she moved back and forth, her slick pussy stroking his cock in a way that was taking him closer and closer to the edge.
She kept that motion up as she lifted her hands from his shoulders to her tits. She tugged on her nipples, making the hottest fucking sounds while she teased and played, and he grew harder, as if that were even possible.
And then, God help him, she slid one hand down to stroke her clit. She started slow, in time with the rocking motion of her hips. But then she moved faster, making those noises he loved and arching back as she rocked and touched in a frenzy of motion until she was bringing both of them right to the edge, so close he knew that he was going to lose it any second, and although he wanted to fuck her so damn badly, this felt incredible.
“That’s it,” she said. “I want you to come like this. I want to take you there.” As she spoke, her hand closed over the base of his cock and with only two more strokes, he was gone. The heavens opened up, he arched back, and he exploded all over her ass and his own goddamn pants.
It was fucking bliss, especially when she dropped to her knees and licked his cock clean before looking up at him impishly. And there, naked on her knees with his come on her chin, she grinned and said, “Sometimes I like to be the one in charge.”
Damn, but he loved this woman.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as Baxter and Gabby return, Hunter gets them set up in our newly expanded room. It turns out that the connecting room is one of those middle rooms for when a group wants one large suite—in the case of the penthouse, one even larger suite. It’s huge, with a kitchen, a seating area that includes a sofa bed, and a giant table that can be used for conferences or large dinners.