NC-17

by Larissa Reinhart

  “Now?” I glanced around for cameras.

  “I know your rules. Does it look like I’d be filming? I’m on my way to a workout.”

  I eyeballed her for a hidden mike. Impossible to hide in a unitard. “Then why aren’t you managing Giulio’s career?”

  “Oh, him.” She waved a hand. “I must get to my workout. I have a meeting later.”

  “Him is your fiancé. God knows why. He’s upset with the way you’ve been treating him.”

  “Giulio’s Italian. He’s always upset.” She rose and the chiffon made a pretty swirl around the unitard. “He’s also young. He’ll get over it.”

  “That’s not fair to Giulio. Marriage is more than a contract, Vicki. It means something to him.” What, I wasn’t sure. Possibly more screen time, but I’d give Giulio the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it wasn’t the point. She shouldn’t be using sacred vows for career strategy.

  “Really, Maizie. I’d think you were jealous. Choose one, make your move, and get on with it.” Striding off, she called over her shoulder. “Text me when you get your new phone.”

  “What does that mean? Choose one?” Did she want me to make a play for Giulio? Or Oliver? And why the hey?

  Never mind. I was getting on with it. To the one I had chosen. In the hospital.

  Thirty-Seven

  #OtherWomaning #BedsideConfessions

  It was dinner time. My stomach seemed to know it before I saw the trays of Jello rolling by on carts. On Nash’s floor, my smile to the nurses felt superficial and guilty. They’d probably seen Jolene with him all day and wondered why I had previously claimed his non-visiting-hours time with such urgency.

  I was the other woman. A character I had never played, although I’d been offered the role in real life a few times.

  And never accepted, by the way.

  At Nash’s room, I knocked quietly before peeking inside. His dinner tray sat on the swing table near his bed. His monitors beeped in a soothing regular rhythm. The TV ran muted sports news. Nash slept once again. His bed had been lowered. His breathing was even and steady, no post-traumatic stress stirring his slumber. His large shoulders still strained the hospital gown, but they looked more relaxed than before. More alive. Less…cadaver-ish.

  Speaking of stiffs, no Jolene, either.

  I let out the breath I had been holding, entered the room, and sank on the chair next to his bed. Looked around for Steve. Found him on the floor. Grabbing the stuffed armadillo, I placed him at the foot of Nash’s bed. Then moved him to the crook of his arm. Now that I knew he was truly awake, I could no longer touch Nash, but it felt better knowing Steve could give him some physical comfort.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. A lot has happened since I last talked to you. I shouldn’t upset you, but I thought you’d rather know what’s happened with the Price case.”

  This was harder than I thought. The scent of food drifted into the room as a cart squeaked down the hall, but I was no longer hungry. I felt chilled and squeezed my arms across my chest.

  Just say it, Maizie. He’s not even awake.

  “I…well, in all honesty, Leslie Price asked for my help and I did nothing. And now she’s been murdered. I’m pretty sure I know who did it. Or at least I’ve seen the men. They threatened me and took Lucky. They’ve been following me. Watching my house and poisoned one of our dogs. Remi…” I choked back a sob. “I put Remi in danger. I moved out of my house. I wanted to stay at the office, but Ian Mowry said it wasn’t safe. I moved into the Wellspring Center.”

  Swallowing hard, I lowered my gaze. “I screwed up royally, Nash. I never found Chandler. I’ve let down the teens. I’ve put my family and the kids in danger. Didn’t save a woman from murder. And I haven’t saved your business. Although if Lamar uses the flyers I made, we might get a lot of calls. Probably not for PI work, though.”

  “What do you mean they threatened you?” He croaked.

  I jerked my head up. “Mr. Nash?”

  His eyes fluttered open. “Slow down, Miss Albright. They’ve got me on heavy pain meds and I can’t catch all you’re saying.”

  His hands patted the blanket and finding the remote, pressed a button. An engine whirred and his bed slowly brought him to an upright position. He picked Steve off the crook of his arm, looked at him, and smiled. “Remi?”

  “Yes. She wants Steve back, but only when you’re out of the hospital.”

  “Start from the beginning. No crying. And speak slowly, for mercy’s sake,” he rasped. “You look like hell, by the way. I want to know what’s done this to you.”

  Pinching my thumb, I began with the teens, Bigfoot, and missing Chandler Jonson. Routed him through Chandler’s brother, the boot, the rock thrower, and the motorcyclist’s attacks on Lucky. Glazed over Oliver, but told him about the Wellspring Center, the ramped-up security, spooky Everett Lawson, and the missing videos. Then hopped back to Mrs. Price’s check and my run-in with the bearded dudes. “I’ve been reporting to the ATF and Ian Mowry all along.”

  “Jolene’s secretary tried to shoot you, too?”

  I shrugged. “She might have trouble contextualizing sarcasm.”

  He frowned. “Roger Price had at least two accomplices. How did we not see that?” He rubbed his scruffy beard. “I want to shave. It’s driving me nuts.”

  “I can help you with that,” I said, then dampened my enthusiasm. “Like, get the nurse for you.”

  He waved a hand, refocusing on the case. “Your gaming theory is interesting. They could have used coded messages. Didn’t we have the downloaded scripts from Roger’s games? Did ATF take them?”

  “I gave everything to Agent Langtry, but I made copies.”

  “Bring them to me. At least it’s something I can do while I’m in here.”

  “The accomplices would have to be local. Maybe not Black Pine, but definitely not foreign. Close enough to be still hanging around and terrorizing Roger’s mother.”

  “They probably use a VPN to route their IP address to a different location than where they actually live. It’d take the ATF time to track them down.”

  “The two guys looked local. They look like any guy you’d see at Tractor Supply.”

  “We could’ve missed them during our surveillance.” Nash closed his eyes and winced. “Let me think about this missing person case, too. It’s interesting. I understand why the police moved on. There’s not a lot of quality evidence.”

  I chewed my lip. “I kind of suck at finding evidence.”

  He opened his eyes to give me a hard look. “But the circumstantial evidence is compelling. And unlike the cops, we’re not building a case for court, so it’s okay to focus on the circumstantial if it leads somewhere. I agree it doesn’t make sense that he’d leave the kids at the campsite. Why go with them to the campsite in the first place? And why did he continue to camp in the same spot near the Wellspring Center?”

  “The kids had a theory about it being an old chicken farm.”

  “For a TV show, wouldn’t staying in the same spot get boring? And it sounds like Chandler knew what he was doing when it came to promoting and running that show.”

  “Yes.” I moved to the edge of my chair. “And he was the star even though he didn’t come off as a diva.”

  “There must have been a reason for him to continue returning to the area near the Wellspring Center. It’s hinky. From what you tell me, sounds like Chandler is obsessive but smart.” Nash shifted in bed and moaned.

  “It must be hard for you to do this in bed.”

  “Do what?” He stopped moving and gave me an inscrutable look.

  “Normally you pace while you sort your thoughts.”

  “Oh.” He eyed me then scratched his beard. “That’s true enough. I’m too dizzy to walk. And too damn weak. It’s miserable.”

  “Can I do anything for you? I brought you clothes. From the office. And a shaving kit.”

  He looked down at Steve. Picked him up and turned him over. “Thank you, Miss
Albright. That was considerate.”

  “I’ve been visiting you mostly at night or early in the morning. Lamar would come during the day.”

  “That’s…” He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t been here.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that.”

  I swallowed. “You wouldn’t?”

  He dropped Steve and leveled me with a look that penetrated through my insecurities. Yet still left me uncertain. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Because this morning, I…I don’t want to interfere with…anything. You’ve been through enough. And…Lamar and I’ve been trying to keep the business…running. We…” An unchecked tear squeezed out. I tried blinking it away. Pinched the skin between my thumb and pointer.

  “No crying, Miss Albright. Especially for me and my crap situation.”

  I sniffled. “It’s my crap situation, too.”

  “Come here, Maizie.” He held out an arm.

  “Rule number two. No hugging?”

  “Near-death overrides rule number two, don’t you think?”

  I shot out of the chair. He pulled me into an awkward lean against his shoulder and held me, while I cried and made his thin gown wet. Then I pulled away to stare into the cool blue eyes I’d missed seeing.

  “I’m supposed to comfort you, not the other way around.”

  He attempted a smile. “Listen, Mrs. Price’s death is not your fault. Yes, you could have handled that situation differently, but so could she. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s her son’s.”

  “I’m visiting Roger tomorrow. I want answers.”

  “You might not get them.” The hand that lay on my back slid to the nape of my neck. He closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. “Sometimes you can’t solve the mystery.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll figure out the business and the bills. Jolene and I are discussing what to do.” He yawned and slid his fingers into my hair to gently rub my scalp. “You and Lamar have done enough. He’s got a business to run. You have a missing person to find.”

  Jolene. My stomach felt hollow and another lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t make myself touch that subject. Not with his fingers in my hair and his confidence in my ability to find Chandler. It was too confusing.

  “You’re not going to tell me to drop the case and hide somewhere?”

  “Your hair is so soft.” His eyes looked unfocused and he blinked. “Sorry. Are you carrying your .38? Taking safety precautions?”

  Not really, but I skipped that question to thank the universe for Olaplex treatments. Then felt guilty about Tiffany and Rhonda. But set that aside to focus on his fingers in my hair. Maybe he and Jolene held hands when they worked on business arrangements. Maybe I should just ask him to clarify the current state of his feelings for Jolene.

  Or not. He just woke from a coma. I should probably give him a minute.

  Maybe I should kiss him.

  Tears prickled my eyes. “I really missed you.”

  The fingers slipped from my scalp to my shoulder. I tossed Steve and sat on the side of his bed. I cupped his face, stroking his beard with my fingers. His arm dropped from my shoulders to settle on my hip. Leaning forward, I pressed my body against his and tilted my face, hovering above his lips.

  “Nash,” I murmured, then pulled back to study him. His eyes were closed and a faint smile had settled on his lips. “Nash?”

  His chest rose and relaxed. I felt his hand jerk against my hip.

  Okay. He had a head injury. He needed his sleep. Probably used up his energy listening to my long, drawn-out story about Chandler and Mrs. Price.

  Hells, why had I used all his awake time on that?

  OMG. What if he was just doped up and it didn’t mean anything? When Jolene was here, he was completely awake while they held hands.

  It’s not like he had said much other than my hair was soft. Which was more of a fact than opinion.

  A knock on the door startled me. I hopped from the bed and spun around.

  Oliver filled the doorway. “There you are.”

  “Yes, here I am.” My heart thudded inside my chest. “This is Mr. Nash. My boss. From Nash Security Solutions.”

  “Poor guy.” Oliver ambled into the room. “How are you doing? It must be hard, seeing him like this.”

  “I’m—” I wasn’t sure what I was. Confused, mostly. “He’s awake. Or at least he was a little while ago. No longer in a coma.”

  “Great news.” Oliver shook his head. “He must be in a lot of pain. He looks so uncomfortable.”

  “I suppose. He’s pretty drugged up right now.”

  “I’ll give you more time.” Oliver’s smile didn’t reach his sorrowful eyes. “I came to pick you up. Wellspring’s driver returned and told me where you had gone. You need to be more cautious, Maizie.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. I know it’s not easy for you. To be in a hospital.”

  Oliver opened his mouth. Closed it, then said, “Yes, well. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  I lowered the bed, hoping the noise and motion wouldn’t wake Nash. It didn’t.

  “I’m ready. We talked,” I said. “Tired him out.”

  “Poor guy,” Oliver said again, holding the door open for me.

  Allowing Jolene to step through.

  Thirty-Eight

  #TheOtherOtherWoman #HotShot

  Jolene still wore the blue sheath dress, looking as fresh as she did earlier that morning. Her auburn locks cascaded down her back. Her makeup was on point. She also held a Styrofoam box that smelled of ribs, collard greens, and cornbread.

  Nash’s favorite meal. In my estimation that made her even more attractive.

  Well played, Jolene.

  The tight feeling in my chest returned and guilt spanked my cheeks with a flush to match the scrape on my forehead.

  “Why are you here again? Wyatt shouldn’t be stressed. No new cases.” She glanced at Oliver. “Who’s this?”

  Oliver stuck his hand out. “Oliver Fraser. I manage the Wellspring Center. Maizie’s friend from LA.”

  Jolene backtracked on the bitchiness to simper for a potential client. Particularly for one who’d meet her financial and hotness requirements. “Jolene Sweeney of Sweeney Realty. Did you just move here from California, Oliver? I assist most of our new residents with searches for their homes and businesses.”

  “Are you also Jolene of Sweeney Security Solutions?” said Oliver.

  Smiling, she placed her free hand on her chest and drawled a “Well, yes, I am.”

  Oliver drew himself up to tower over her. “How dare you endanger Maizie, other clients, and your young staff with firearms. I can’t even fathom the kind of person who’d tell a child to shoot a woman for entering her office.”

  Jolene’s mouth was not so pretty when it hung open. She snapped it shut. “Is that what Maizie told you? You must have misunderstood.”

  “That’s what I saw with my own eyes when I was in your office. And immediately withdrew our business.”

  Jolene set her tone to briskly apologetic. “I’m sorry you experienced that. We do keep firearms in the office. It’s a security business, after all. But Sienna must have misconstrued my orders. I didn’t tell her to shoot Maizie. That pea shooter is not even loaded. Sienna’s only supposed to make it clear that Maizie doesn’t belong in my office. As a competitor. Poaching is an issue in our industry.”

  She shot me a venomous look.

  Guess Jolene had heard about my circular file rescue.

  “It’s okay, Oliver. Guns are kind of thing in Black Pine.” I laid a hand on his arm.

  “It’s reckless and irresponsible.” Oliver grabbed my hand. “You should sue her.”

  “I don’t want to get Sienna in trouble.”

  “Excuse me, but I need to get to my husband.” Jolene moved around Oliver. “Have your argument somewhere that’s not a hospital. Wyatt needs his rest.”

  “You’re ma
rried to Mr. Nash?” said Oliver.

  “Divorced, last I heard,” I said.

  Jolene gave me another fierce glance, then pushed past me to Nash’s bed. She laid the to-go box on the swinging table, tossed Steve on the floor, and stroked Nash’s cheek.

  “Poor Steve,” I said. “Come on, Oliver. Let's go.”

  As I walked down the hall with Oliver, I felt some relief. But also plenty of shame for throwing myself at Nash when he’d only offered a shoulder to cry on. I didn’t want to fight Jolene for Nash. They had a history. A history I did not understand. At. All. But I refused to play the role of homewrecker.

  Sometimes histories were hard to overcome.

  I looked up at Oliver, then realized my hand was still in his. Talk about histories. I slipped it from his grasp. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

  “Of course,” he said. “She seems like a horrible woman. No wonder your boss divorced her.”

  “I don’t know why they divorced. He never talks about it.”

  I wasn’t really sure about anything.

  * * *

  I convinced Oliver to take me to the office before returning to the Wellspring Center. I wanted to get the gaming transcripts to Nash despite what Jolene had said. I couldn’t make much sense of them, but maybe he could find hidden bank robbery lingo among the “Kill! Kill! Kill’s” and “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat’s.” I also wanted to check in with Lamar, whom I hadn’t seen in ages although it had only been since the afternoon.

  This was what insomnia did to you. Hours seemed like days. Days stretched like weeks. It hadn’t even been a full week since Roger blew up the bank and it felt like a year.

  “I should see Tiffany and Rhonda, too, but maybe after I see Roger Price,” I said.

  “You shouldn’t talk to him,” said Oliver. “We shouldn’t be at your office either. It’s too dangerous.”

  He was right. Which reminded me my .38 Special was in the office gun safe. I hated carrying it, which was why I left it in the gun cabinet. But Nash had made the request and he was still my boss.