Exposure

by Ember Dante

  “Okay.” She inched over and snuggled against me. “I don’t even know her and I can’t stand her.”

  I draped an arm around her. “If I had known how crazy she is, I never would have gotten mixed up with her. Parker and I will take care of this, and then she’ll be out of our lives.”

  She pressed her lips against the pulse in my neck. “I love you.”

  Sweeter words had never graced my ears. I tightened my hold, wondering once again what I’d done to have her in my life. “I love you too, baby.” I gave her another squeeze. “Are you ready to get moving? We can grab lunch on the way.”

  Emmy’s smile lit up her face. She was so fucking beautiful. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

  “Well, get up, lazy bones.” I laughed.

  She climbed over me, stopping for a kiss. “You’re one to talk, Mr. I Didn’t Realize I Went Back to Sleep.”

  My eyebrows lifted in surprise and I swatted her on the ass, sending her scurrying into the bathroom with a squeal. Jumping out of bed, I stalked after her, following the steady stream of giggles that drifted toward me as she turned on the water and backed into the shower. I pressed her against the slate wall, encouraging her to wrap her arms around my neck as I bent to kiss her. My hands slid down to her thighs, lifting her so I could thrust into her. Every time with her felt like the first time, and I knew there was no way I’d ever get enough of her. I couldn’t fuck things up. I needed her too damn much.

  16

  Emmy

  The rain started around noon and was expected to continue throughout the holiday weekend. After a leisurely lunch and a few necessary stops, we finally arrived at Ian’s house in Southlake around three o’clock—before the deluge hit. Not even the rain could dull the beauty of the meticulously landscaped yard and sprawling red brick structure. Several large oaks dotted the velvety green grass, flanking the paved driveway.

  Ian parked beneath a porte cochère that separated the main house from the three-car garage and killed the engine.

  “Oh gawd, Ian. This is amazing.”

  “Wanna check it out?” He chuckled.

  Gaping, I nodded and hopped out of the Tahoe to follow Ian inside. He disabled the alarm and stood aside, giving me the first look at the interior. The main living area was warm and inviting with tall ceilings and an open concept layout. Black granite countertops and white cabinets complemented the neutral color scheme of the kitchen and dining nook while a breakfast bar served as a barrier to the living area. Several large windows lined the back wall, giving a clear view of an expansive veranda and pool area. From what I could tell, the backyard was just as well maintained as the front. It looked like a true oasis.

  I walked farther into the house and craned my neck to peer into the room beyond the living area before turning back to Ian.

  “How big is this place?”

  “A little over 3,000 square feet.” He tossed his keys onto the kitchen island.

  “Feel free to explore all you like. I’ll grab the bags from the car.”

  Shaking myself from my daze, I turned to follow.

  “I’ll help.”

  It took two trips to carry everything inside, but we made quick work of putting it all away. After we finished, Ian gave me a brief tour that ended where we began. The rest of the house was just as nice and fully furnished, but it felt staged as if it were a showroom rather than a home.

  “How often do you come here?” I asked.

  “Not very. I’ve considered selling it because I really don’t need it.”

  I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

  He smiled and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m happy you like it. We can come back any time you want.”

  “You’re going to spoil me if you’re not careful.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  The weather precluded any outdoor activities, so we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cuddled on the couch watching Netflix.

  “So why did you buy this place if you don’t spend much time here?” I asked, reclining against Ian, my back to his front. His hand rested under the hem of my shirt, caressing my waist.

  “You really want to hear this story?” he asked, releasing a heavy sigh that ruffled my hair.

  I rolled my eyes before turning my head toward him. “Duh.”

  He laughed and pinched my side.

  “I inherited some money from my grandmother, and my father insisted I invest some of it in real estate.”

  “And you picked this dump?” I teased.

  “Smart-ass,” he murmured. “He thought I should grab some land around Prosper, or farther south near Cedar Hill. He would have even preferred I buy a house near him and Mom.”

  “But you couldn’t do that.”

  “Nope.” He sighed again. “I know you don’t understand—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “But I think I get it. I do.”

  “Anyway, I figured I’d keep it for a while, then sell it. Maybe make a few bucks off it.”

  “Not a bad plan,” I shrugged.

  “But now I’m thinking…”

  I turned my head again and leaned closer to him. “What?”

  “Maybe I need to hang onto it.”

  My heart beat a staccato rhythm behind my ribs. “Yeah?”

  He shifted our positions so I was flat on my back and he was leaning over me slightly, the hand that was under my shirt moved to cup my jaw, holding me in place. Our gazes locked and I didn’t need him to tell me how he felt—I could see it.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Our lips met, and I was no longer aware of anything else. Neither the raging weather nor the rapid-fire dialogue from the television. On that grey, rainy Saturday, all that mattered was that we were together. And we were making out on the sofa like a couple of teenagers.

  17

  Ian

  The weather cleared off around one Sunday afternoon, giving us a welcome break and warming things up again.

  Parker and I stood on the veranda, each with a beer in hand, neither wanting to be the first to bring up the sore subject of Blaire. My gaze was directed through the plate glass window, toward the kitchen where Emmy and Jules quaffed margaritas and prepped food for lunch.

  “How are things?” asked Parker, nodding toward the girls, a shit-eating grin on his face. He never could pass up a chance to bust my balls.

  “Things are just fine.”

  The corners of his mouth drew into a droll expression. “The only reason I ask is that it seems you’re in uncharted territory.” He shrugged before raising the bottle to his lips. “This isn’t like you. You know, sleepovers at your place, bringing chicks here, whatnot.”

  I turned my face toward him, giving him my undivided attention. “What do you want to know, Park?”

  Turning serious, he shifted his weight equally to both feet and fixed me with a heavy stare. “Is Emmy the real deal? Or is she one of those women you’re gonna get bored with in a few months? Is she another Caitlin?”

  “The fuck?” I slammed my bottle on the table and faced him, arms akimbo.

  He set down his own bottle and held his hands out, palms facing me. “No need to get riled up. I’m just having a friendly conversation.”

  “No, you’re pissing me off.”

  Parker tilted his head to the side and arched an eyebrow in a silent dare. His voice was low and gruff, the tone you’d use with an errant child. “Answer my question.”

  “Yes, she’s the real deal, and no, I’m not going to get bored with her in a few months.” I clenched my jaw, pissed at my reaction as much as I was at him. “You know damn well she’s nothing like Caitlin.”

  “Oh, I know she isn’t like Caitlin. I asked if she was another Caitlin meaning is there a reason you’re with her? Daddy push you into this or something?”

  I turned away from him, rage brewing inside, and stared across the backyard, willing myself to calm down. My eyes focused on the small fountain dumping wate
r into the pool, sending ripples across the surface. When Parker started down a path, there was usually a reason, and he never gave in easily. He only did it when he wanted me to see the truth or make a difficult decision. Fucker.

  “Ace?” His voice was surprisingly soft, all traces of cockiness gone.

  I stayed where I was, but turned my head toward him. “I love her.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, and he lifted his beer for another sip. “Alrighty then.” He tipped the bottle toward the girls. “She know that?”

  The sudden anger-infused rush of adrenaline faded, making my fingers tremble as I reached for my own drink. “Yeah. I told her Friday night after Blaire pulled her little stunt at the gallery.”

  “This shit with Blaire is gonna get ugly. You know that, right?”

  Nodding, I turned to face him once again. “So why were you pushing me about Emmy? You could have just asked me how I feel about her.”

  “Aw, c’mon, man. We don’t talk about shit like that.” He laughed, then turned serious again. “I wanted to push you, make sure you weren’t lying to me—or to yourself. You need to stay on your toes around Blaire, and be ready for anything. Now that she knows you have a girlfriend—”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Just making sure.”

  My attention was drawn back to the kitchen. The girls were laughing as Jules bounced up and down on her toes a few times, then pulled Emmy into a tight hug. Smiling at the simple gesture, I turned back to Parker who wore an expectant expression.

  “Got time to talk business, Ace?”

  “Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Spit it out. What can you tell me about Blaire?”

  “For starters, the business is in trouble. Turns out she’s not bringing in as much money as she used to.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. She constantly remodels the place. Last time I was there, I heard her talking about buying the building next door and expanding.”

  “Right. She’s getting money from somewhere and it’s going unreported. She obviously has a primo CPA, because so far she’s managed to avoid an audit.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No. Remember, I don’t have all the details, and I need you to keep mum about this. Don’t even tell Emmy what I’m about to tell you. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I scoffed, offended. I’d never violated his confidence before, and I wasn’t sure why he thought I would.

  “I have reason to believe she’s pimping out her female subs, and some of them are getting roughed up—more than would be expected during a scene.”

  “Prostitution?”

  He nodded. “But I can’t prove that—it’s just conjecture at this point. I’m having an easier time with the money trail. I don’t have names—the sly little minx has come up with a code I haven’t been able to decipher yet. She’s clever, I’ll give her that. Anyway, based on what I have uncovered, she’s extorting several prominent citizens—civilian as well as political.”

  “But you don’t have any idea whom?” I asked, my heart racing.

  Would it surprise me to learn my father was one of them? No. Did I think it likely? Not really. What possible tie could there be between Blaire and Connor? It went without saying I thought Connor Walsh was scum and would stoop to any level to get what he wanted, but how would he gain anything from involvement with Blaire?

  “No. I’ll admit a few key players came to mind, just from what I know about the Dallas social scene, but again, I have no proof, only conjecture.”

  “Okay. What about her background? There’s got to be a reason she’s so focused on me. It’s been long enough now, you’d think she’d get the hint I’m not interested.”

  “I can’t answer why she’s fixated on you, other than it’s become a game to her. That’s why I’m asking you to continue playing it cool. She needs to believe it’s business as usual so I can keep digging. As far as her background…” He drained his beer and reached into the cooler for another. “I couldn’t find anything about her father—he was never in the picture. He’s not even listed on her birth certificate. Her mother committed suicide when Blaire was ten, and the grandmother took over raising Blaire and her older sister.”

  “I didn’t know Blaire had a sister. Where is she?”

  “Self-committed in a private hospital in Austin. I don’t have details about why the sister checked in, but get this—Blaire’s listed as the primary payer, but none of the checks have her name on them.”

  “Who’s paying the bills?”

  “A shell corporation called Cronus Capital. Don’t ask who owns it because I don’t know yet, but I’m going to call in a few favors this week and see if I can track that down. I think that’s going to be the key.”

  “Cronus?” I asked, more to myself than Parker.

  “Yeah. Greek Titan, father of Zeus, ate his own children until he was tricked by his wife, Gaia, and overthrown by Zeus.”

  The fact that Parker actually knew that much mythology was astounding.

  “Uh, yeah. There’s something familiar about that name, though. I just can’t put my finger on it…”

  “Well, if you figure it out, let me know. We’ll be that much closer to getting Blaire out of your life. If all goes well, she’ll be headed for a nice, long vacation, courtesy of the State.” Before I could respond, Parker cleared his throat and tipped his bottle toward the door to the kitchen. “We better table this conversation for now, Ace. Looks like this little party of yours is about to get underway.”

  Nodding in agreement, I turned to greet my brothers and prepared myself to play host for the afternoon. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop my brain from trying to solve the puzzle Parker presented it. He was right—it could be the key to the entire situation.

  18

  Emmy

  Our guests arrived in bursts, first Tyler and Avery, then Ian’s brothers with their significant others. After the initial introductions, the guys congregated outside by the grill, drinking beer and pretending to be masters of the universe. Mason’s wife, Bailey, stayed inside to help with the food. Open and friendly, she was an interesting combination of laid back and refined, obviously well-bred but not easily embarrassed by Jules’ bawdy humor. We liked her immediately.

  “So, Emmy,” Bailey began. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swished from side to side when she turned her head. “How did you meet Ian?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Jules’ amused snicker interrupted me, and I gave her a dark look while I made a virgin margarita for Bailey.

  “We met at the Glass Cactus a few weeks ago. I was there with friends, and I literally bumped into him on the way to the bathroom,” I said, launching into a very abbreviated version of our first meeting.

  Bailey scraped baked beans into a serving bowl. “It’s good to see him so happy. We were really concerned about him. He was down for a long time, and it’s nice to see the real Ian again.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, sharing a look with Jules. “What happened?”

  “The whole Caitlin incident really did a number on him.” She shrugged.

  “Who’s Caitlin?” asked Jules.

  “Ian’s ex-girlfriend.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So what’s the deal?”

  “Shit ... He’ll probably kick my ass for bringing it up. Well,” she began, her gaze darting between Jules and me, “I think Connor wanted them to get married, but Ian wasn’t having it.”

  “I’m sure,” I snorted. “What’s she like?”

  Hesitation painted her delicate features and her lips twisted in concern. “Um…”

  Jules and I exchanged a look.

  “What?” I asked.

  Bailey glanced at the guys, confirming she wouldn’t be heard, before returning her attention to us. My heart rate shot up. It couldn’t be good.

  “There was an accident, a pretty bad one, and she, um…” She took a deep breath, and her hand dropped to rub over her rounded belly. �
�She died.”

  “Oh my god,” I gasped.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ian’s going to be so pissed at me.”

  “So, what did she look like?” asked Jules.

  Yeah, that was the most important question. But I had to admit I was curious about that myself.

  Bailey motioned to Jules. “Can you hand me my phone?”

  Jules retrieved it from the opposite counter and handed it over. Bailey’s face twisted into an aggravated expression as her finger poked and swiped over the device. Finally finding what she wanted, she stepped closer to me and pointed to a Facebook post.

  “This was at our engagement party before they actually started dating.” Her fingers swiped again, enlarging the image. “That’s Caitlin.”

  The two girls, Bailey and Caitlin, were bookended by Mason and Ian. Caitlin stared longingly at Ian, while he and Mason looked at each other over the girls’ heads, caught in mid-laugh, perhaps sharing an inside joke. Bailey’s mouth gaped as she pointed at whomever was taking the photo. It was a truly happy moment frozen in time.

  I zeroed in on Caitlin and stared. Truthfully, I’d always considered myself more on the ‘cute’ side of pretty, but Caitlin was lovely. Maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was tall and willowy, doe-eyed with long brown hair. Gold highlights framed her heart-shaped face, perfect nose, and sensuous lips. She could have been a model. The longer I stared at the photo, the dowdier and less adequate I felt.

  “What happened exactly?” I asked, placing the phone in Bailey’s palm.

  “I don’t know all the details, so I’m not going to say any more about it,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Ian needs to be the one to tell you. All I know is that he never had any intention of marrying her, but whatever went down messed with his head.”