by Lora Leigh
Jaci could tolerate him hitting Richard, she decided with a smile. She'd cheer him on. Hell, she'd help him.
As she pulled out of the Sinclair estate, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief and headed to Moriah's apartment on the other side of the city.
It was almost over. She should be relieved. Instead, she couldn't seem to stamp back the heavy feeling of dread growing inside her gut. She had been poised on the edge of this for too long. She had fought for it for too long. Now that the end was so near, she couldn't seem to convince herself it was going to work.
She had planned it meticulously. She had laid all the groundwork, she had made herself hold back, kept her silence when she wanted nothing more than to inform the world of the depravity of those two, each time they or one of their friends sliced at her.
She wasn't a woman to sit back and take everything someone wanted to dish out to her. Doing so had torn at her pride more than once. But she'd had a plan. A plan that had formed the moment she realized the Robertses had managed to nearly destroy her reputation.
She could have told Cam. She probably should have told Cam. But she knew him. He would have insisted on handling it his way and taking over. He would have beat the hell out of Richard and probably terrified Annalee. He would have had the satisfaction, Jaci wouldn't have. And she needed it.
She pulled her cell phone from the clip on her jeans and turned it off before placing it in her purse.
Before she entered Moriah's apartment, she'd set it to record. A backup. Insurance, just in case.
She trusted Moriah implicitly, but the other girl was too nervous, too shaky. There was always the chance that she could have miscued the video recorder, or that the Robertses were smart enough to find it.
Backup was always a good plan, her father had told her once. And on her desk was the letter she had left for Cam just before she left. Why the hell she had written it she couldn't figure out. She had been compelled to leave something, though. To prove she trusted him? She wasn't certain.
She gripped the steering wheel, breathed in slowly, and forced back that edge of panic. This was going to work. She had no choice but to make it work.
Image
Cam charged into his office and faced his brother with an edge of irritation. Chase had demanded he drop the scheduled interview he and Ian had with the first line of the punitive committee for the club.
Even Ian was unaware of who the exact members of that committee were. Every three years the membership elected a prosecutor to the committee, as well as a defender. Those two would investigate the charges and take their findings to the committee.
He was neutralizing the Robertses one way or the other. He'd be damned, after last night, if he would allow anything else to hinder his and Jaci's life. He'd take care of the Robertses' threats to her reputation, then he would try, God help him, he would try to be honest with her. As much as he could be.
Losing her wasn't an option. Something inside him unclenched a little more every day that she was back in his life. There was a sense of newness, of life now, and he wasn't losing that.
And if that meant involving the club, then that was what the hell he would do. He couldn't kill a congressman, no matter how much he wanted to; besides, that was guaranteed to piss Jaci off.
"What the hell is going on? We've been working for hours to get this meeting with Obermeyer, and you cancel at the last minute?"
"This is what the hell is going on."
Papers spilled from the printer as Chase jerked a small stack from the tray and slapped them on the table.
"I was looking in the wrong fucking place, Cam. Son of a bitch, I fucked up."
Cam took the sheaf of papers, gave his brother a long, hard look, and began to scan them. As he read, he felt his blood chill in his veins.
England, Italy, New York, and Cancun. All four locations, and one person had been there each time.
Someone Jaci shouldn't have even known at the time.
"Why?" he asked.
"That was the hard part." Chase shook his head wearily. "I've spent last night and most of the day today trying to figure that one out. I finally found a source, though. An ex-lover. It's all because of Annalee. A love for Annalee. And Jaci somehow had threatened the Robertses enough that she triggered a psychotic need to defend the congressman's wife."
Cam stared at the information, laid it on the desk, and braced his hand beside it as he used the other to go through each page.
This explained the bungled attempts to hurt Jaci, to kill her. There was no strength here, no experience; there was only emotion and fear.
"I missed it." Chase's voice was filled with disgust. "I looked right the fuck over it."
"You're not the only one." Cam could feel rage icing inside of him now. "I went over the same information, Chase. I missed it, too."
This particular area had been Chase's. The division of the investigation, the years they required to go back on anyone, required that they divide certain portions. This one hadn't been Cam's responsibility, but he had still gone over it, checked it. Hell, he had double-checked it. And he had missed this.
"What now?" Chase moved behind him, his voice hard, furious.
Chase was burning with the anger, Cam was icy with it. He couldn't allow himself to burn right now. He would burn after he talked to Jaci, after he figured out the best course of action to take to protect her.
Because there was no doubt there were going to be problems here.
"The psychiatrist's report is in there, too," Chase revealed. "I might have had to do a little hacking to get that. It's not pretty, Cam."
No, it wasn't. He found it even as Chase spoke, and the records of the meetings sent a chill racing down Cam's spine. He was certain the psychiatrist had felt that same chill, if her comments were any indication.
It wasn't pretty at all. It was a life of petty hatreds, of uncertainties and fears and paranoia. It was a mind that had somehow lost its grasp on reality, until one person had found a way to reach inside the fears and connect with it.
A gentle hand. A woman who had shown compassion, sympathy, and—strangely enough—affection.
Though it was incredibly hard for Cam to find proof of affection inside Annalee Roberts, still, by all accounts it had been her efforts that had soothed the increasing erratic psychotic impulses that had been showing themselves.
He turned and stared back at Chase, seeing the heavy regret in his expression, the pain that the knowledge brought.
"The committee has to know about this," he stated. "It's a risk to the club, Chase. We can't allow it."
Chase's gaze flickered with demons. They weren't as shadowed as Cam knew his own often were. Chase had demons that walked with him, he had for years, and they burned in his eyes now.
"At least it won't be the punitive committee." Chase sighed. "Do you think there's even enough sanity there to understand punishment?" His hand waved to the report. "God, Cam. How does someone like that move in the world without giving themselves away? Without at least arousing suspicion?"
Cam shook his head. He couldn't imagine it. A combination of drugs and fear, he knew, could do amazing things. And come to think of it, the public appearances were few. And, he guessed, only during the more lucid moments.
"Jaci didn't know," he finally said. "She has no idea anyone has been trying to kill her."
"No fucking wonder," Chase snarled. "With those bungling attempts, they looked like nothing but accidents."
"She's stubborn, not stupid." Cam shook his head sadly, knowing how this was going to hurt Jaci. "If she thought her life was in danger, she would have come to me."
He knew that now. She had waited until she thought she was strong enough to stand with him, to stand on her own two feet. But she was smart enough to know she was in no position to protect herself against a psychotic killer.
"Annalee's reputation means everything to her." Chase sighed. "Nothing else matters. Being beli
eved to be a bitch is a strength to her. No one sees the other side. She strikes out at potential enemies first. She's protecting that reputation. Protecting her public life."
Cam shook his head at that. "Jaci's going to have to see this." And he hated that. Taking this to her, seeing the hurt, the disillusionment in her eyes, was going to kill him.
"Courtney as well," Chase warned him. "They're both in danger here, Cam. Courtney's loyalty is as fierce as Jaci's. She'll have to see the proof of this."
"It's a hell of a mess, Cam," he said. "I'm not looking forward to taking this to Jaci. Or Courtney. It's going to break their hearts."
"But it'll save their lives." Cam turned back to him, that ice hardening inside him. "Take this to Ian. I'm going to find Jaci and get her ready to go home. I don't want to tell her this here."
Home. It was home now. It wasn't just the house or the apartment. It was a home with Jaci there.
Hell, he'd had plans tonight. Candlelight and soft music. A bed of roses and Jaci sweet and hot. He hadn't figured betrayal and tears into the equation.
He moved from the office, rubbing at his jaw as he tried to fight back the rage. He would kill for her, but he'd sure as hell prefer not to have to deal with the mess in this situation. Killing someone could barely distinguish fantasy from reality, even with the aid of drugs, wouldn't be a pleasant experience.
Richard Roberts, well, he had a beating coming. There was no doubt of it. Cam had had the chance to read the account in the psychiatrist's report of what had supposedly happened the night Jaci had left the Robertses' mansion, that night years before.
The Robertses' certainty that she would enjoy being a plaything. What was the comment? They were only trying to love her. They wanted to love her and she just wanted to run and hurt them. Like a child.
Hell.
He moved downstairs before turning and heading to the back hall and the offices there. As he turned into the well-lit hall, he met Matthew coming out of his own office.
"Hello, Cameron," Matthew greeted him in his precise, formal tone. "I gather you're not joining Miss Wright for lunch?"
Cam paused. "I'm heading to her office now."
Matthew paused. "Miss Wright has already left for her engagement. She left in the BMW approximately thirty minutes ago."
Cam didn't wait to question him. He moved quickly to the door of her office and jerked it open, striding inside, his gaze moving around the room. She wouldn't have left without telling him. She knew they had plans tonight. She wouldn't have gone out this late in the day without telling him when she would return.
His gaze swept over the desk, his eyes catching the note laying there. He moved to it, jerked the paper up, and read it as pure terror began to race through him.
No. Ah, fuck. No. He wouldn't lose her like this. He couldn't.
"Chase!" He raced into the hall, aware of his raised voice, the pure shaking terror in it, and the sound of feet racing from upstairs.
He slid into the foyer as Chase and Ian rushed down the stairs and Courtney paused at the door to the formal living room.
"She's gone!"
"She had a lunch date," Matthew objected.
"She's meeting with Moriah and the Robertses." His gaze connected with Chase's as he handed him the paper.
I'm taking care of this situation with the Robertses today, Cam. I'll be at Moriah Brockheim's, meeting with them. Don't worry. We both know they're not dangerous, just irritating. I'll explain everything tonight.
The note had pure terror and rage burning through the ice now.
"Moriah will be there. What's the big deal, Cam?" Courtney snapped. "Jaci's a big girl. Let her deal with this."
Cam stared at her in disbelief before he and Chase both tore back upstairs. They raced to their office.
Weapons. They needed weapons.
Shoulder holsters were strapped quickly around their torsos, Glocks shoved into the holsters beneath their arms. Backup at their ankles was strapped on.
"Matthew, call Detective Allen at the Alexandria PD, and have him meet us at Moriah Brockheim's apartment in Alexandria. Tell him to come in quietly, we have a potential situation."
"Cam, dammit," Ian cursed as he weaponed up as well. "What the hell is going on?"
"We'll explain on the way." They headed out of the office at a run and Cam began to pray. Pray that he got there in time. That Jaci was safe. That he could hold back the rage building inside him enough to pull her out, to protect her, without shedding unnecessary blood.
She was his. And no one, but no one, threatened what was his. Not man, woman, or lunatic.
26
Jaci smoothed her hands down the snug jeans she wore as she reached Moriah's apartment door and roughly blew out a breath, telling herself once again that it was nearly over. She would finish this here, tape the Robertses' admission of what had happened the night she ran from their mansion, and use it to make certain neither of them harassed her again.
She didn't need her relationship with Cam overshadowed by this, and she wasn't going to have it overshadowed. She would stand on her own two feet, take care of herself, and end this now.
With a sharp nod at the thought, she lifted her hand and pressed the buzzer with the tip of her finger.
Moriah's upperclass, second-story, corner apartment overlooked a small flower-adorned park.
A second later the inside latch could be heard sliding free and the deadbolts releasing as Moriah opened the door. Jaci stared back at her somberly. Dressed in a pretty white-and-gold sundress, she looked young and sweet, with her shoulder-length hair framing her face.
Jaci stepped into Moriah's apartment, staring into the other girl's eyes and seeing the cold, hard resolve there.
"They're in the study." Her voice was faint, husky, as though with emotion.
There was something off with her demeanor, though—a cold, hard light was in her eyes that Jaci hadn't expected.
Jaci nodded, gripped her purse, and followed Moriah through the apartment to the study. There was a back door just through the hall in the kitchen. It led to an iron balcony and a fire escape to the alley. Just in case Annalee had brought her handy dandy little whip with her.
Jaci breathed in deeply as Moriah headed to the kitchen and she stepped into the study.
Annalee was as beautiful as ever. Long black hair that flowed to the middle of her back, gracefully arched brows and blue eyes. She was slender but not skinny. The soft, pale peach silk dress she wore emphasized the golden hue of her flesh. It also made her appear almost innocent. A far cry from the black leather, stilettos, and whip she had worn that night so long ago.
In contrast, Richard appeared confident, aloof. Almost aristocratic. The aristocracy was spoiled by the hint of nervousness in his eyes and the sheen of sweat on his brow.
"Margie isn't here?" Jaci looked around, wondering where their secretary was lurking. The one who had been sheened with sweat and sex that night, her dark eyes wild with lust.
"Margie isn't needed here." Annalee leaned against the desk at the side of the room, her hands braced on the walnut top behind her. "There was no sense in upsetting her. Margie can be delicate sometimes."
Margie was as delicate as a barracuda, but Jaci understood the other woman's hardness as she thought about Moriah's experience with the Robertses.
"Yeah, that happens when you mess with a kid's head," Jaci snapped. "Tell me, Annalee, did you choose Margie when she was a teenager, too?"
Annalee blinked at her in surprise. "Sorry, Jaci, but I don't do teenagers," she sneered. "Strange, I didn't expect you to resort to lies after all these years."
Jaci snorted at that. "I wouldn't dare try to fight you on those grounds, Annalee. I can accede to the fact that you're by far the best liar here. So I will stick to the truth. And if teenagers aren't your style, then how do you explain Moriah?"
Annalee looked to Richard with an expression of confusion. That look sent her stoma
ch sinking.
Something was off, either it was genuine confusion, or they had to know they were being taped. Had Moriah given the game away somehow?
"Moriah is an adult, Jaci, and a very good friend of Annalee's. There's a difference between a friend and a lover," Richard finally said. "And we're not here to discuss the whys and wherefores of our personal lives. If that's why you called this meeting, then we're all wasting our time."
Why she had called the meeting?
"What?" She stared at both of them in confusion. "I didn't call a damned thing."
"Look, Jaci," Annalee's delicate voice flowed over her protestation. "I regret we had to take the steps necessary to ensure that nothing you said against us was ever believed. I can understand it's been frustrating to you over the years. But we've always made certain to compliment your design abilities, to send clients your way. There are rules to the little skirmish we're involved in. Rules we've all had to abide by."
That flash of regret had to be a lie, Jaci thought as she watched the emotion wash through Annalee's eyes. Who the hell were these people, and what happened to Richard and Annalee Roberts?
"You two are certifiable." She shook her head at the sight before her. "Excuse me, Annalee, you've told everyone for years that I tried to steal from you, that I was a home wrecker, but you say you regret it?
Why don't I believe that?"
Richard breathed out heavily. "Because you don't understand the world you're stepping into," he told her impatiently. "We accept responsibility for the situation."
Well now, wasn't that just big of him?
"You tried to rape me, Richard. You, your wife, and your demented little secretary," Jaci snapped, her voice full of fury. "Excuse me, but that's a little more serious than you obviously want to accept."
She felt as though she had dropped into the twilight zone, and she didn't like it. She had come here with several certainties—one being that it was time for this "skirmish," as they called it, to end.