How ignorant was that?
Evidently she’d knocked him senseless when she’d felled him, Jay thought.
And the idea that she’d played him, that she might not be as intrigued and lit up as he was...
Jay growled under his breath and made himself focus on the task at hand. Irritatingly, he’d gotten a summons this morning to Andrew Betterworth’s townhouse on the French Broad River and was reluctantly making his way there now. Honestly, it felt like a monumental waste of time. He’d been regularly emailing Andrew with updates, but coming over here was stupid and drew him away from time better spent in pursuit of the dognappers.
That was what Charlie was doing, he thought, annoyed all over again. Who knew what sort of clues she was going to find while he wasn’t watching her? What sort of advantage she’d gamer?
He located the right house number, noting the fancy sports car in the driveway. It was red with black racing stripes and the vanity plate read Eat It.
Nice.
He hadn’t met Andrew yet and already hated him. Determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, Jay made his way to the door and knocked.
A curvy blonde with a black eye answered the door. She kept her head turned to limit his view and pulled a hank of hair over the offending bruise.
Jay’s blood boiled and he felt his fingers tighten.
“Is that him?” an obnoxious male voice shouted from somewhere deep in the house. “Bitch, I’m talking to you! Is that him?”
The woman flinched and shot him an apologetic look. Upon closer inspection she couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that. “Are you Jay Weatherford?”
“I am.”
“It is,” she called over her shoulder.
“Then let the man in the door, dumbass,” he sneered. “And get us something to drink.”
By the time Jay had crossed the threshold he was ready to pummel the hell out of his so-called employer. Though he knew he’d been this mad before, he didn’t think he’d ever felt so dangerous, so on the verge of making a critical tactical error.
The house looked as though it had been decorated by a pimp who only recognized animal prints. Jay had never seen so much zebra in his life. Dozens of candles littered the room, all of them burning with different scents, and a fire blazed on the hearth.
“Ah,” Andrew Betterworth drawled as Jay came into view, tearing his gaze away from the flames. “My own personal badass. You’re late.”
If Andrew seriously thought he was going to be able to intimidate him, he had another think coming. Jay nonchalantly checked his watch. “No, I’m not. I’m two minutes early. And this is a waste of my time.”
Evidently unaccustomed to anyone daring to defy him, Andrew looked him over and smirked. “Since I’m the one paying for it, it’s my place to say what is or what isn’t a waste of your time, isn’t it?”
“You’re paying me to do a job and preventing me from doing it. That’s stupid,” Jay said baldly. He pulled a lazy shrug and dropped into a chair without being asked. “But when you’re dumb you’ve got to be tough. And in your case, poor to boot. I’m here. What did you want?”
“A more respectful attitude would be a good start.”
“I don’t respect bullies,” Jay said through clenched teeth as the young blonde came back into the room. “And my respect isn’t for sale.”
Her legs were bruised as well, he noted, particularly the insides of her thighs. Bile rose in his throat. Jesus. She set a tray of drinks on the coffee table, but Andrew snagged her arm before she could go and dragged her down into his lap. “Stay,” he said, as though commanding a dog.
She looked terrified, mortified and utterly cowed. “I’d like a status update on the case,” Andrew said, leveling a look at Jay while he casually—sickeningly—stroked the girl’s arm.
“I emailed that to you this morning. The ransom instructions arrived earlier.” Much as he hated to do it, he explained the terms.
“It sounds quite foolproof.”
“Well, it’s not, Andrew,” Jay told him, seriously ashamed that this was the man he was working for. Aggie had been right. There was no concern for the animal his aunt had loved, nothing but greed and a nasty, soulless temperament.
Andrew squeezed his eyes tightly shut and when he looked up he was angrily exasperated. The girl didn’t so much as move a muscle, had gone as still as a rabbit who had picked up the scent of a wolf.
“It’s On-drew. On-drew! Why can’t any of you inbred hicks get it right?”
Jay blinked. “I’m sorry?”
His client heaved a long-suffering sigh, as though this were an explanation he’d grown weary of making. “My name is pronounced On-drew. Not Andrew.” He said it slowly, as though he were instructing a half-wit.
Jay felt his lips twitch. It was just too damned ridiculous. Too pretentious. “Right. Got it.”
Ondrew’s thin nostrils flared with irritation. “You think this is funny? That my name is a joke?”
“Not at all.” He smothered another laugh. Evidently, that was the last straw. Andrew bolted up from the chair, dumping the blonde onto the floor in the process.
“Hey!” Jay shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Andrew gave her a hard kick in the ribs. “Get out of my way, you stupid cow,” he growled, trying to go around her.
Jay saw red. Literally.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d laid Andrew out flat, blood pouring from his undoubtedly broken nose.
The girl screamed while Andrew’s nasal profanities filled the air. Jay looked at the blonde. “Do you want to stay here?”
She gave her head an emphatic shake. “No.”
“Bitch, you’d better not leave me!” Andrew spat. “I’m warning you. You leave and you can forget your modeling career. No more photo shoots! No more designer labels!”
Showing the first bit of spunk, the girl drew her foot back and kicked him right in the groin. He grunted, wheezed and his face turned purple. “I lied,” she said. “It is little.”
Andrew glared daggers at Jay. “You’ll pay for this,” he said brokenly.
“Ask me if I care, Andrew.” He looked at the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Josie.”
He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.” The minute he got in the car he dialed Ranger Security and asked for Payne. “We’ve got a problem,” he said grimly.
“What?”
Jay shifted into Drive and aimed the car toward the Betterworth estate. “I just decked Andrew Betterworth and left with his girlfriend. Be on standby to make my bail.”
Chapter 10
Because the lettering on the newest note seemed so familiar, Charlie had made a copy and kept reviewing it. Presently, she’d returned to the house after a futile search for additional clues around the perimeter of the estate.
Predictably, she’d found nothing.
It was as though Truffles had vanished into thin air. She rolled her eyes. As though he’d been plucked from the sky by one of Burt’s UFOs. Something niggled in the back of her mind, a fleeting realization that would never fully form, then retreated annoyingly to the ether.
“Are you sure I can’t make you anything else?” Jasmine wanted to know.
The girl was thin and dark, with large almond- shaped eyes and multiple piercings in her ears, nose and eyebrows. Hat tip to Ms. Aggie for hiring her, Charlie thought. Typically, Jasmine was the sort of girl that wealthy people wouldn’t want around. She didn’t look dangerous, but she did look different and that, oftentimes, would be enough to make her an outcast.
“No, thanks,” Charlie told her. “The panini was wonderful. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“I used to work at the Rose and Dove out on the French Broad. We made lots of specialty sandwiches and salads. I enjoyed it. Pairing unexpected flavors and such.” She wiped down the kitchen counters. “Ms. Aggie isn’t much of an eater, really. She makes her own breakfast—” she shot Charlie
a covert smile over her shoulder “—for her and Mr. Smokey, but she doesn’t know that I know that, so don’t mention it.”
Charlie grinned. Ms. Aggie and Smokey? Seriously. Wow. She paused, allowing the couple to gel in her mind, and realized that they matched. Ms. Aggie was open and warm and Smokey seemed wise and reserved. “How do you know that?”
“She leaves the dishes in the sink,” Jasmine told her. “At first I thought she was inviting Burt in and feeding him—” a fleeting scowl raced across her face “—but when I asked him about it, Burt didn’t know what I was talking about”
Charlie had noticed that Jasmine seemed to have a soft spot for the eccentric Burt. She’d put extra helpings on his plate at lunch and had made him an Oreo cupcake for his dessert. For whatever reason, Charlie’s spidey senses were tingling. “Burt’s quite a character,” she said.
“He reminds me of my father,” Jasmine remarked thoughtfully, staring out the window. She had a perfect uninterrupted view of the backyard, Charlie realized.
“Oh? How so?”
She sighed. “Like Burt, he was passionate about something people didn’t understand.”
“Then he must have been a very courageous man. It takes guts to be passionate about things other people ridicule.”
Jasmine turned then, her expression one of delighted surprise. “That’s true,” she said wonderingly. “I’d never thought of it that way before.” She nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “He was courageous. And he was a good man. Undervalued, but good.”
Undervalued? Like Burt? Or was it because Burt was into UFOs? “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s been a long time,” she said. “He died when I was fifteen.”
That was certainly an impressionable age. Charlie was dying to know what Jasmine’s father had been so passionate about, but since the girl hadn’t shared that information, she didn’t see how she could ask without being callous or prying.
A chime sounded, indicating a car was coming up the driveway, and Charlie’s heart gave a little kick of hopefulness at the idea that it could be Jay. He’d left earlier this morning—none too happily—to go and see Andrew Betterworth.
She didn’t understand why his client would want him to take time away from the case. Though she’d appreciated the time to do a little poking around without him looking over her shoulder, inexplicably... she’d missed him.
Not good.
How in the world could she possibly miss someone she’d just met? How could she care about where he was or what he was doing when, beyond this case, he wasn’t going to be part of her life? He was The Enemy. Her nemesis. The bane of her recent existence. And yet...
She wanted him to make her scream.
Loudly.
A shudder of need shivered over her shoulders at the thought, and she resisted the urge to bite her fist as desire wended its way through her once more. Just thinking about him—about his lips against hers, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her ass—made something hot and achy slither through her.
Furthermore, he was every bit as crafty as she was. The dental-floss-tied-to-the-toothpaste trick had been friggin’ ingenious. She wished she’d thought of it and had been trying to come up with ways to replicate the alarm herself. No doubt he’d be doing his own snooping around the house tonight, just to prove to her that he could.
Another night with no sleep.
But that wasn’t what was important. Getting the dog back was the main goal here. And thankfully, that goal coincided with beating Jay, so she was all good on that score. For the first time in her life, she wished that she could be different, that she could look at this assignment without seeing it as a competition...but she couldn’t.
She knew that Jay Weatherford was a kick-ass soldier and that he was undoubtedly just as qualified for the job at Ranger Security as she’d been. But she genuinely believed that she brought a different skill set to the team that should have put her a hairsbreadth ahead of him. For whatever reason, she suspected that her hacking skills were going to be the key to unraveling who had taken Ms. Aggie’s dear dog.
She wouldn’t claim that she was always going to be the better agent. But in this case, she thought she was. Arrogant? No doubt that’s what a man would say. But she liked to call it “honest.”
Furthermore, much as she hated to admit what she was contemplating—particularly considering the grace he’d shown her—the idea of hacking into the military files to take a peek at Jay’s history was becoming more and more appealing. Should she do it? No. But intuition told her that whatever had put that flash of fear in his eyes could be found in those files.
And she wanted to know what had caused it.
Kitty-Cat, he’d called her. Her lips twisted. Apropos, considering it was her curiosity that got her into trouble the majority of the time.
The door opened then and Charlie turned, curing the smile that had jumped instantly to her lips. It was Jay, of course. He had blood on his knuckles and shirt, and the girl with him was sporting a day-old black eye and bruises in various degrees of healing. She looked relieved, but frightened. Charlie had spent enough time in shelters to know what a battered woman looked like.
The question was, where the hell had Jay found her?
Charlie sprang up from her chair, offered a welcoming smile and extended her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The young woman looked at Jay for guidance, and at his nod, she offered a tentative smile. “I’m Josie,” she said. “Josie Miller.”
A muscle flexed in Jay’s jaw. “Josie is Andrew Betterworth’s former girlfriend. The blood on my shirt belongs to him. I’m certain I’m fired and almost as sure that I’ll be going to jail soon.”
Charlie couldn’t have been any more shocked if he’d announced that he’d given up personal security to be a ballet dancer. A thought struck and she inhaled sharply. “You didn’t—” She swallowed. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
Jay and Josie both blinked, then glanced at each other and started laughing. “No,” Jay told her. “I didn’t kill him. But his nose and his nuts are in bad shape. The nose is my fault.” He jerked his head in Josie’s direction, seemingly proud of her. “She’s responsible for the nut injury.”
The admiration in his tone made Josie stand a little straighten “He deserved it,” she said with a succinct nod.
Looking at all the abuse he’d heaped on this poor girl, Charlie imagined he deserved anything Jay and Josie had given him and more. Bastard.
“Did you kick him with the heel of your foot?” Charlie asked.
“Yes.”
She cocked her head. “Barefoot or with a shoe?”
“Barefoot.”
“Good. It’ll hurt longer.” Strictly speaking, Charlie didn’t know if this was true or not, but the pleasure that animated Josie’s battered face was worth the potential lie.
In her experience, women who had been abused typically wanted a bath—to wash their abuser away—and a soft, safe place to land for a while. She wasn’t sure what Ms. Aggie would say about taking in the young woman for a few days, but Charlie could certainly provide her with the temporary use of her en-suite bath and a few clothes until decisions were made about her future.
“Why don’t you come with me?” Charlie said. “And I’ll get you settled.”
By the time Josie was bathed, newly clothed and moved into her own room, the police had arrived and taken Jay into custody.
Andrew had pressed charges.
With any luck, he would get his own time behind bars, because Charlie was going to encourage Josie to press charges, as well. She’d been systematically mentally and physically abused. She was eighteen. A runaway whom Andrew had “saved,” dangling the idea of a modeling career in front of her. Josie wasn’t stupid—she was just a product of her circumstances. A drug-addict mother, a perverted stepfather. She’d fled at seventeen.
Charlie had heard it so many times before. Too many.
Even though she knew that Ranger Security was more than likely going to make a phone call and get Jay out of jail, Charlie nonetheless went down to see him. Predictably, bond had been set and paid and, when he walked out, he looked endearingly tired, unbelievably sexy and heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
He smiled when he saw her, his blue eyes crinkling at the comers. Her chest tightened to the point where she couldn’t breathe, and she grew lightheaded. She could feel her pulse thundering in her ears, the steady galug-galug-galug telling her something she didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to acknowledge.
This man had cold-cocked an abuser, rescued the abused women and forfeited his job in the process.
Would Ranger Security fire him? Certainly not. No doubt any one of them would have done the same thing when faced with the same dilemma. But he’d undoubtedly cost them a lot of money, a potential lawsuit and a headache of massive proportions. She was so full of emotion—pride and gratitude and happiness, of all things—she feared she’d burst.
And he hadn’t cared.
He smiled down at her, his gaze warm and surprised. “I could have called a cab, Kitty-Cat. What are you doing here?”
Charlie grabbed his shirt by the lapels and drew him down to her. She slid her nose along one side of his, nuzzling, breathing him in. “Giving you a hero’s welcome,” she murmured, before pressing her lips to his.
Chapter 11
“If you’re going to do this every time I hit someone, then the general population isn’t safe,” Jay told her, chuckling against her mouth. Like a match to dry tinder, need flamed inside him, singeing his veins, making his scalp prickle, his dick swell.
Catcalls, whoops and whistles eddied around them, reverberating off the cinder-block walls, but he couldn’t seem to care. As a rule, he’d never been much of a fan of PDAs, but he’d never been kissed like this before, and frankly, much like Rhett Butler, he simply didn’t give a damn.
Up In Flames (Ranger Security Book 3) Page 10