“Trashed your studio, did she?”
“Oh, yeah, though I didn’t know at the time who it could have been, who would do such a thing. I called the police to report both incidents, of course.”
“And they chalked it up to desperate people looking for drugs or money?”
“More or less. And then.” Oh boy, just remembering how close she’d come to getting killed gave her shivers.
“That’s it.” Greg reached down, picked her up, and then sat in her chair with her on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her. “Go on, baby. Finish your story. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you. Those were the same words she’d heard him say to Cody through their bedroom door that first night. Somehow, she thought Greg Benedict was the kind of man who would always say, and mean, “I’ve got you.”
“A few days before I was scheduled to leave town, I was on my way to have lunch with friends. We were to meet at a trendy restaurant—O’Malley’s, where they serve great lobster. I looked both ways when I stepped off the sidewalk, of course. No one was coming. But a car pulled out from the curb, about a half a block up the street. I heard a squeal of tires and looked up. I recognized the woman behind the wheel from the gallery in a split second. I thought I was going to die, but at the last minute a man I didn’t even know yanked me back, out of harm’s way.”
“Jesus.”
“Fuck.”
Greg and Cody had spoken at the same time. Adam looked over at Cody, concern on his face.
“You all right, there, Harper?”
Cody had gone a whiter shade of pale. Since he still had her hand, she also had his. She covered their hands with her other one and squeezed.
Cody said, “Me? I’m fine. I guess being a photographer, I’m better than most at picturing things.” Then he raised her hands and kissed the back of one. “We have to find out who your Good Samaritan is and send him a thank-you gift.”
Rebecca wanted to challenge Cody’s assertion that he was all right. But she understood the male ego better, she bet, than the average woman did. So she said, “I believe the police have his name.”
“I’m going to contact the Seattle police department and have a chat with the man working the case,” Adam said.
Like I didn’t know that one was coming. “His name is Detective Dwyer, and he’s with the homicide department. After questioning me, and then looking into Brady’s death, they’ve reconsidered and ruled it murder. When I left, they hadn’t yet identified the woman, but I did leave him my cell number. I haven’t heard from him for a while.”
“Ah, maybe because you went and stayed at the cabin where the reception is zilch.” Greg didn’t sound very happy with her.
Finally, something positive she could say. “Actually, the Town Trust put in a new cell tower out at the airfield a month ago. The cabin is no longer cut off that way.”
“Good.” Greg nodded once. To Adam he said, “We’ll be staying with Becca, of course. We’d appreciate it if you kept us up to date. Before we leave, Cody and I will give you our cell phone numbers.”
“Will do. I’m glad you’re home,” Adam said then, “and not just because you brought Rebecca in here to tell me about her stalker chick.”
“Crazy stalker chick. Why can’t anyone get that straight?”
Adam just gave her a smile that made her want to slug him in the arm.
“You’ve been through the wringer yourselves,” he said, addressing Greg and Cody. “I’m glad to see you’re recovered from your ordeal.”
When Cody looked confused, Adam said, “It was all over the national news, about your being kidnapped. In fact, just hours before ANN broke in with the news of your release, some New York publisher had issued a press release saying they were afraid you’d been killed.”
Cody snorted, and Rebecca found she was kind of getting attached to that derisive sound of his. “What was it Twain said? ‘The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’” Then Cody shrugged. “I can hardly blame my publisher. As I have tried to convince Greg, Drummond Pierce, my companion in misadventure, likely believed I was dead—as I believed the same, myself.”
“But you’re not. And I aim to do all I can to keep it that way. Which is why we’re on our way, next, to the clinic.”
“Speaking of that”—Rebecca sat forward, well, at least as much as Greg’s possessive hold would allow—“there’s no need to tell Robert about this little thing, is there, Adam?”
Behind her, Matthew snorted. “She calls being the target of a stalker chick a little thing.”
“Crazy stalker chick!”
This time, Cody and Greg said the words with her.
“Sorry, Becca.” Matt didn’t sound sorry at all, damn his hide. He sounded vastly amused.
Adam clearly fought the urge to laugh. Then he looked at Cody, and Greg, before meeting her gaze. “There’s no need for Robert to know about your crazy stalker chick problem, now.”
His message was clear to her, and it did surprise her some that her feminist genes didn’t rise up even a little in protest.
As far as Adam Kendall was concerned, she’d been spoken for by Greg and Cody. They were her men, and because they were, they, and not her brother, were now in charge of her safety.
* * * *
She was very good at being overlooked, and very good at getting what she wanted, eventually.
Naomi Lake had learned a long time ago that what she’d cursed about herself for her first fourteen years on this earth—being so plain as to almost melt right into a wall—came in very handy from time to time.
Now was one of those times. With a little help from some simple, dollar store props, she was as plain as plain could be.
That boyfriend-stealing whore had left town before Naomi could make an example of her. Did she think running away was going to save her?
Not fucking likely. Miss Fancy Pants Artist would soon learn that no one crossed Naomi Lake and lived to tell about it.
At least not for long.
Naomi had spent the last month staying in someone else’s house, someone she’d never met but who she knew was out of town. This wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing, just the latest time. She’d left that morning, knowing she would never return. She’d given the place a thorough cleaning, of course, making sure everything was exactly as it had been when she arrived.
Cell phone cameras were very useful devices.
It was never hard to find a place to stay when one had to leave a current address. There were agencies all over, in every city, which specialized in either subletting temporarily unoccupied places, or maintaining empty places as a service to those who traveled. There were several agencies in this city that provide both services.
Naomi had posed as a prospective client at a couple of them, asking about the opportunity for the former, and while at the second agency, had managed to steal a list of the addresses of the latter—addresses where there would be no one in residence for a time.
It was easy to then make use of such a house, because inevitably the “caretaker” agency did very little other than test the locks to make sure they were engaged.
These agencies had all the necessary info in their computer files, files that were easy to hack into if one knew how. The homeowner’s travel schedule, alleged care-taking schedule, and even the in-house security codes were right there, ripe for the plucking.
Naomi would then choose her address—not too exclusive, and not too poor—pick the regular lock, disarm the security system—as if she was the caretaker who’d arrived to take care—and then she’d keep herself out of sight when the actual caretaker would arrive.
She was careful and kept her going out and thus coming back in to a minimum. There were twenty-four-hour groceries, and she was content to hunker down for a time and lie low.
She didn’t worry really overmuch about the neighbors spotting her, though she took care not to be seen. Most people didn’t give a rat’s ass about other people, anyway. It w
as all easy, breezy, and Naomi Lake had brand-new digs.
She’d used her time wisely over the last month. She’d used the Internet at her new address—since the residents didn’t password protect their computers—to do some research, and to keep abreast of the investigation into the death of that cheating bastard, Brady Alexander.
She supposed if she’d gone after that whore using a different weapon, the cops would still think Brady’s death had been an accident. So the fact that they now knew differently and that she had to leave her cute little apartment was her just desserts for poor planning.
Daddy had always said that planning and timing were everything. As a matter of fact, I do believe he said that right before he had me sent to that boarding school. He was just afraid I would tell on him. Faithless bastard. Cheating on momma that way. He was afraid I would tell momma, and so he had me sent away.
Of course, momma had been no angel, either. She’d likely known what he was doing to her, and she’d let him.
She’d let him!
They both deserved what they got.
And Naomi deserved to be happy. She’d been so certain Brady was the one—the one who would make her happy. How could she have been so wrong?
Faithless bastard. He deserved what he got, too.
But it wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over until that whore got what she deserved.
Just like momma.
Naomi smiled even as she considered how well the brown wig and fake glasses disguised her. She knew how to blend in and she knew how to get the information she needed. Planning and timing. It had been long enough, now, that her mission would seem sincere. She knew how to act like the plain little mouse and elicit sympathy when she needed to.
Of course, she’d seen so many whores close up, she could pretend to be one of those, too, if she had to. But she’d rather not.
No, plain brown mouse worried about an acquaintance was what would do the trick. She’d choose her mark carefully, too.
They wouldn’t even know what she’d done. Not ever. She was such a clever little girl. Daddy always said so!
Naomi looked up at the marble and glass building with the words Seattle Police Headquarters above the doors.
She knew how to get the information she needed, and she would have that information very, very soon. She would know where Rebecca Jessop had run to by the time she left this building again.
And then she would finally give that whore what she deserved.
Chapter 8
“Your wound has healed remarkably well, all things considered,” Robert Jessop said. “It looks good.”
Greg hadn’t fully understood until that moment exactly how tense he’d been. He trusted those doctors in Turkey, of course.
But he trusted family more.
“I’ve always been a fast healer.” Cody shrugged, and then slipped his shirt back on. Instead of a huge square pad of gauze, Robert had replaced the bandage with a much smaller square.
“You might want to keep it covered under your clothing for a while yet to prevent chafing,” he said. “But you can shower, or bathe, without worry. And likely, just cover it for another week when dressed. If you’ll pop back in next week, I’ll look at it again.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Just Robert.”
Greg said, “I want to say thanks, too, for an entirely different reason.” Since Rebecca had opted to stay out and chat with her sister-in-law—Robert’s pretty wife Jillian—Greg figured he was free to chat man-to-man with his “cousin.”
He didn’t have to say anything more. Robert clearly understood that Greg was referring to the fact that Robert had set Greg up with his sister.
“You’re welcome,” Robert said. “Just see that I don’t ever regret giving you this opportunity.”
Greg looked at Cody, before turning back to his cousin. “You do understand that I’m bisexual.”
“Well who didn’t know that? I’ve got news for you, cousin. We’ve all pretty much understood that you were bisexual, the same as we’ve all always known Jordan was. If you think that makes a difference to any of us as to how we feel about you, then you don’t know us very well at all.”
Well, hell. I always thought it was my big secret.
Greg decided to go for full disclosure. “Cody and I are lovers.”
“That’s not news, either, Einstein. Did you not realize that when ANN interrupted their regular programming with the breaking news that photojournalist Cody Harper had been rescued from his kidnappers in Syria, they showed you helping to get him settled onto the gurney and then getting into the ambulance with him? For those of us here, we knew when we saw the look on your face that he was yours.” Then Robert proved that he was Rebecca’s brother after all. “Is Becca okay with this?”
Greg and Cody exchanged a look and it was all Greg could do not to burst out laughing. He could see Cody was thinking about that moment on the porch.
I’d better not tell Robbie his sister had an orgasm watching us kiss.
“She says she is, and I believe her.”
“No, she wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Robert said. “And frankly, I wouldn’t have expected her to be otherwise.”
“We’d know if her acceptance of us wasn’t genuine,” Cody said.
Robert looked at him. “Have you talked to anyone yet about what happened to you in Syria?”
Oh, he’s good.
Cody shrugged, but Greg could see the change in topic threw him off-balance. “I spoke to a psychiatrist before I left the hospital in Turkey,” he said finally. “I’m fine.”
“If you need to talk to someone, talk to Greg. Or you can come here and talk to me.”
“Thanks, I will. But like I said, I’m fine.”
Yeah, right. Greg was more than a little concerned, because although Cody kept repeating that he was “fine, the truth of the matter was just the opposite.
Greg had seen flashes of the old Cody, but he’d changed, and Greg didn’t know if those changes were permanent, or not. He didn’t know if Cody was just in denial, or if the experience had fundamentally altered him.
Greg understood that living life changed people. How could it be otherwise? And if that was all that had happened, then that was okay. He loved Cody, and a few changes in attitude wouldn’t affect that.
But if Cody was, in fact, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, then Greg wanted him to get help.
If he didn’t, the situation would not get better, it would get worse. Cody’s nightmares would get worse.
“What about you, Greg?”
“Pardon?” Oh, that sneaky, sneaky doctor. Who knew that cousins could be so damned sneaky?
“Someone you love has been through hell. How are you handling it?”
Greg very nearly brushed Robert off. He wanted to ask the man what right he had asking him a question like that when it was Cody who’d been kidnapped, Cody who’d been shot and had nearly died.
And then he got it. Trust Robert to dig back for one of the principles upon which they’d been raised. His dads—and everyone else’s dads, too, for that matter—always said, “You don’t lead by telling others what to do. You lead by example.”
Greg didn’t share easily. He always held his emotions close to the vest.
That kind of behavior was fine as long as I was a lone wolf. But now I’m a man with a lover—potentially two lovers—and if I want to build lasting relationships with them, I have to learn how to share.
“I was scared out of my mind. I was a basket case.” He looked over at Cody. “When I got word that you’d been taken, it was like the Boxing Day Tsunami all over again.” He looked at Robert. “I lost someone I loved then—remember how I was home for that Christmas? 2004? We’d had a fight, Daniel and I. We were supposed to have gone to England together, to visit his family for Christmas. But we’d had a fight, and I came home alone instead.” Greg sighed. “Daniel, being Daniel, decided to stay in Jakarta and work. He was a doctor, and working
a term in Indonesia with Doctors Without Borders. The day before the disaster, he was called in to assist with an emergency on the north end of Sumatra.”
“Where the worst damage was,” Robert said. “Christ, Greg, I never knew.”
“How could you? I never told anyone.” Greg thought about that for a moment. “I never told anyone, and I suffered for it for a long, long time.” He looked at Cody. “I was alone for a long time, and was going to stay that way until you came into my life. Hell, I’d even decided to not pursue the only woman I’d ever loved, too.” Because he believed he didn’t have a right. He let himself cling to the guilt he felt because he’d taken her when he was still technically committed to Daniel.
“It’s not the same thing,” Cody said. “I was kidnapped, and yeah, I got shot during that part of it. And I was scared. But then your friends found me and brought me out of that. I was scared again when I got so sick in the hospital, but you were there then and it was better. I’m better.”
Greg met Cody’s gaze, and then looked at Robert. “So I guess to answer your question, we’re both okay.”
Robert nodded slowly, and Greg, who’d never considered himself particularly insightful, realized something important.
Neither he nor Robert fully believed Cody. And neither one of them could do anything about that little thing.
* * * *
“That’s probably the only pass you’re going to get from me, Cody Harper,” Rebecca said. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Rebecca turned and waved good-bye to Jillian. After a short discussion, they’d decided to walk the few blocks to Lusty Appetites.
Before leaving the clinic, Greg had tried to call his parents, but they were in Houston for the day. There was no answer at the twins’ ranch, so he left a message. He did manage to track the triplets down—they were also in Houston—and he’d called Julia.
Love Under Two Adventurers [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8