“You know, if you're looking for something to do,” Devlin said. “I was considering redecorating the pool house.”
“I suppose working on my tan would help cover these bruises,” Leighton said, sounding a bit more like her old self.
He squeezed her shoulder and she smiled up at him, the moment personal enough that I felt like an intruder. I stepped out into the hallway to give them privacy while still maintaining a presence at the door.
A few minutes later, the butler appeared at the end of the hallway, followed by two rather serious-looking men. Rutherford gave me a nod and then stepped to the side so the men could pass.
“ID,” I said, blocking the door.
The taller of the two men seemed annoyed by my request, but the other one gave me a nod.
“I'm Detective Travis,” the shorter one said as he held up his shield. “And this is Detective Branson.”
I studied both IDs for a moment, and then nodded, opening the door behind me.
“The detectives are here.” I was careful not to look at Leighton as I spoke. I had to remain professional through all of this, and looking at her made things difficult.
“Have a seat, gentleman,” Devlin said, motioning toward two chairs across from the love-seat where he was now sitting.
Detective Travis introduced himself and his partner again. Travis looked to be a few years older than Branson and was clearly the one taking point. That was good. I didn't like the way Branson was looking at me or at Leighton.
“Mr. Pope, Ms. Machus, let me first say, on behalf of the LAPD, we will do everything in our power to bring those responsible for this to justice.” Travis pulled out an old-fashioned notepad and looked directly at Leighton. “Now, Ms. Machus, let's start with what you remember the night you were taken.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her chin up, expression set. “I don't really remember anything about being taken from the club. I was...intoxicated at the time.”
“And where was your bodyguard when all this happened?” Detective Branson asked.
“In Kansas with his family,” Devlin answered for me.
“Vacation?” Detective Travis looked less approving of me than he had before.
“My sister had complications with her pregnancy,” I said.
“The airport can confirm that?” Detective Branson asked.
“He flew out in my private plane,” Devlin said. “But I'm happy to give you the names of the flight staff, and we filed the appropriate flight plan.”
“And you can speak with anyone in my family, as well as the hospital staff where my sister was.” I had to force myself to stay polite.
“Convenient,” Detective Branson muttered.
Devlin leaned forward, eyes flashing. “Are you insinuating that Haze had something to do with my granddaughter's kidnapping?”
His voice was level, but the dangerous edge to it made me want to take a step back.
He continued, “I have not been impressed with the way your department works. The way I see it, this happened because you fucked up when I first brought these threats to you months ago. Haze is the one who tracked Leighton down and saved her before your department even started looking.”
The short tirade rolled off of Detective Travis. He turned to me. “And exactly how did you track her down, Mr. Welch?”
I kept things matter-of-fact and honest. “I questioned the nightclub bouncers in order to get the name of a photographer who'd been one of the last people to see Ms. Machus that night. He allowed me to look through his photographs and I determined that the bartender had disappeared from the party at the same time as Ms. Machus. From there, I tracked down security camera footage from a nearby business. Footage that revealed a rented van. The rental company had been bribed to turn off the low jack in the van, but I persuaded them to turn it back on and then tracked the van to the industrial park. Once there, I followed footprints into one of the buildings where I subdued an assailant – the bartender – and found Ms. Machus.”
“So you're admitting to intimidation, breaking and entering, and threats of bodily harm?” Detective Branson looked smug. “You're lucky we aren't filing charges against you for that, as well as obstruction.”
I didn't take his threat as bait, but I was curious. “Obstruction?”
“The LAPD follows strict regulations when it comes to collecting evidence. Regulations that were blatantly disregarded by one overzealous vigilante.” Detective Branson turned to Devlin. “Real detectives are retracing your bodyguard's clumsy steps as we speak.”
“Good for you,” Devlin snapped. “If I'd waited around for you to get your heads out of your asses, my granddaughter would still be out there, subject to...” His voice trailed off for a moment, and then came back, stronger than before. “I understand you care about your evidence, and I do too. I want the men who did this to pay, but getting Leighton back meant more to me than anything else.”
“The man I tied up,” I cut in. “That's a citizen's arrest. Completely legal as you should know.”
Detective Branson gave a derisive snort and shook his head. “As for the claim that one of the assailants was subdued, no one was found in the building where Ms. Machus was allegedly held.”
I swallowed a barrage of foul language, divided equally between the implication that Leighton hadn't really been held captive and over the loss of the fake bartender. The other kidnapper must've come back to the warehouse before the police had gotten there and let the other guy go.
“Allegedly?” Devlin's eyes narrowed and I wondered if I would have to protect Branson from my employer.
I intervened before that became an issue. “You have the report from Dr. Bellamy regarding Ms. Machus' injuries?”
Detective Travis nodded. “Unconventional not to go to a hospital after such an ordeal.”
“Unconventional, but not illegal,” I countered. I took a step forward and both detectives stood. They were tall, but I was taller. “I believe Ms. Machus has been through enough, and I'm sure you can continue your investigation without further upsetting her. If you need to speak with her again, I suggest you contact the family's attorney to schedule an appointment.”
Detective Branson opened his mouth and I knew he planned to say something that would sorely tempt me to punch him, but Detective Travis spoke first.
“We'll do that.”
“Rutherford will show you out,” Devlin said.
He didn't get up from the couch as I moved to open the door for the detectives. When I glanced behind me, I saw Leighton pressing her face against her grandfather's shoulder as he held her. Taking that as my cue, I followed the detectives out of the office.
Chapter 8
Leighton
I was happy to be home. And I did finally think of it as home. Where my grandfather's mansion had sometimes felt like a prison, it now felt like a safe haven. When the spinning flashes of memory hit me, it was easy to find something comforting. My room was bright and comfortable, the garden a riot of colors, the kitchen warm and inviting.
That's where I was now, perched on the edge of a stool, chatting with Shandra. When it came to everyone else in the household, she wielded knives more often than words, but she'd always had a soft spot for me.
Since I'd...gotten back, she'd gone out of her way to make all my favorite foods. Better than that, she didn't ask questions about what happened to me. She just let me talk about what I wanted to talk about, or she'd talk about random things while I sat silently.
“What's with the shadow?” she asked.
I jumped at the sound of her voice, startled from my thoughts. She jabbed a knifepoint toward Haze who was standing on the patio. I chuckled at her words, but there wasn't much humor in the sound.
She was right in her description of him. Everywhere I'd gone over the last few days, Haze was there. I couldn't even begin to guess when he slept or ate or did anything like that. He was there. He didn't talk unless someone addressed him, and he didn't move unless I did.
I looked at him again and felt a familiar dull ache in my chest. My bruises were healing, but the thought of Haze still hurt. He'd made it clear that our relationship would be strictly professional the moment he'd put on the bodyguard uniform I'd chosen. He hadn't worn it in weeks, but I couldn't even enjoy it. He looked gorgeous, of course, but cold. Distant.
He didn't even change into something cooler or lighter when I moved to the pool. I lounged on the pool deck and willed the sun to cover my bruises with a nice bronze tan. The best part about being out here though was that the dark memories couldn't take hold in the bright sunshine. I was feeling relaxed and good. The only thing marring it was Haze's stoic face.
How could he just stand there?
Behind my sunglasses, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. His hair shone in the sun, bleached and a bit longer than it had been when he'd first arrived. The tight shirt showed off every chiseled muscle in his wide chest and shoulders, hinted at his tattoos.
My mind wandered to what those shoulders felt like braced above me, the strength of his arms holding my body against him. It was a welcome change from the fading trauma of the kidnapping, but I couldn't deny that there was an irritation there as well. Irritation at the thought that Haze didn't feel the same.
Irritation turned to frustration, and it made me want to do something, anything, to get him to react. I stood up and stretched, my tiny black bikini barely clinging to my breasts as I raised my hands above my head. It was impossible to tell if Haze watched me behind his reflective sunglasses, but I knew he was always aware of me.
I refused to be satisfied with aware anymore. I sauntered past him, purposefully putting some extra swing into my hips. I mounted the diving board, slowly, deliberately. Just the idea of his eyes on me was enough to make my nipples tighten. I bounced on the board for a moment, ignoring the pain in my ribs, before I launched myself into the cool water.
Even though I hadn't planned it, the dive tugged my bikini top free, and I surfaced not knowing where it had gone. I took my time finding and then retrieving it, not bothering to hide anything. At some point during the dive, Haze had moved to the other end of the pool, so I swam toward him now and stood up, my top still in my hand. His jaw clenched, but he didn't move or say anything.
I could almost feel his disgust at my behavior.
“I'm going to change,” I said, embarrassment flooding through me.
I stormed past him, furious at myself. Maybe I'd misunderstood all of it. Maybe every time Haze and I had been together, he'd only been indulging the whims of a spoiled rich girl.
I slammed the pool house door and scowled.
Spoiled rich girl.
I sighed and ran my hands through my wet curls. I needed a distraction.
I looked around, my eyes taking in my surroundings. My grandfather was right, I thought. The interior was outdated and largely untouched. Redecorating it would work as well as anything else to keep my mind busy.
I dropped my wet bikini top on a nearby table and wandered around the dusty room, imagining what I could do with the space. I peeled back the sheet covering one of the wide sofas and chuckled at the blaze orange floral print. How long had this stuff been here?
My laugh turned to a scream as an enormous spider skittered out from beneath the sheet and dashed across the floor to the far corner.
Within seconds, one of Haze's iron arms was around my bare waist, thankfully under my ribs, and he pulled me tight to his side as he turned his body to keep himself between me and the danger.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes searching the room.
Shit.
“It was just a spider,” I said, now utterly embarrassed by my over-reaction.
His body relaxed, then tensed again as he looked down.
Fuck.
I'd been so caught up in the spider that I'd forgotten that the only thing I was wearing was a thin scrap of bikini bottom. Now, I followed his eyes and saw my bare breasts moving up and down with each breath, my nipples tight.
He cursed softly and then dove down, claiming my mouth. His free hand swept down my bare back, then further down to cup my ass and pull me against him. I slid my tongue along his and he groaned, dragging a hand under my thigh. As he lifted my leg to pull it around his waist, I leaned against him, my nipples hard points against his chest. I reached up, crying out as my ribs flared, and wound my arms around his neck, eager to move things along.
And then he broke the kiss and I knew nothing had changed.
“We can't.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “We can't do this.”
“You don't want this?” I asked, managing to keep my tone even.
He pulled my arms from his neck and stepped away from me. Tension radiated from his body, but his words betrayed none of it. “We're just not right for each other. We need to stop pretending otherwise.”
Without another word, he turned and left. Well, not completely, because he took his job too seriously. I knew he was just outside. But I didn't want him to be outside. I wanted him in here. With me.
I picked up the tiki-shaped lamp next to me and flung it across the room. It thudded against the wall, and then cracked as it fell, not giving me the satisfaction I had hoped.
Gutting the room, getting rid of all the outdated and unwanted furniture was just the distraction I needed. I'd start right away.
Well, right after I put on my top and retrieved my sundress from where I'd left it.
Once I'd dressed, I began hauling out tiki-lamps, rattan chairs, and everything I could lift, piling it up outside the pool house. I didn’t care how much it hurt. In fact, I welcomed the pain. Haze watched from the opposite side of the pool, but it still wasn't far enough.
I knew exactly how he saw me, even if I was sweaty and dirty from carting shit around. I piled up the old furniture and knick knacks as I thought of all the ways we weren't right for each other. I'd barely finished high school because I'd been more concerned with having fun. I had no career path or ambition. I wasn't generous with my time or money, and I didn't know how to put other people first. I was everything Haze wasn't, and not in a good way.
If only I could overhaul myself.
“Need any help?” Grandfather asked.
The sight of him in a short-sleeved polo shirt shocked me into stopping, mid-step. Devlin Pope without a power suit wasn't something I was accustomed to seeing. In fact, I didn't think I'd ever seen him in anything but a suit. And he didn't have his phone with him. Now that I thought about it, he hadn't been on the phone much since I'd come back. Not one of our conversations had been interrupted by a business call.
“No.” I smiled at him as I straightened. “I'm actually liking it. Cathartic.”
“Well, I don't want to interrupt you then, but I was hoping I could convince you to make your first public appearance at my upcoming premiere,” he said.
“The one with your new superstar?” I asked, trying to remember.
“I know action-suspense might not be your kind of movie right now, but I thought it might be a good place for you to step out again.”
I glanced at Haze standing in the shadows. I'd have to leave my grandfather's mansion some time and face the paparazzi that had been flocking outside our gates non-stop since my kidnapping. Maybe the red carpet would be the perfect place to reinvent myself.
When I came back out of my bedroom minutes later, Haze was making his way down the back staircase, but turned around as soon as he heard me. I kept my eyes on his charcoal gray shirt as he came to stand in front of me. Without the reflective sunglasses, it was too hard to look him in the face.
“I need a dress for Grandfather's movie premiere. I made an appointment at La Pomme. It's very exclusive and has its own security,” I said it all in one big rush of air and then waited for him to say no.
“When would you like to go?”
I blinked. “What?”
“I checked it out already,” Haze said. “It's good.”
“When?” I crossed m
y arms across my chest and tried not to be annoyed.
“I saw the premiere on your grandfather's calendar, and assumed you'd be going. Devlin, I mean your grandfather, knew where you'd gotten formal dresses before, so I checked it out,” Haze said.
I resisted the urge to stamp my foot like a child. “You two discussed it and gave it a stamp of approval before I was even invited to the event?”
“I wanted to be prepared,” he said calmly.
“Well, why don't you prepare by bringing the car around,” I said, all too aware of the snarky tone in my voice.
“If you're sure you'd rather do that than bring stylists here...”
“Just get the car,” I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word. Instead, he turned and went downstairs, leaving me in the hallway, my breathing fast, my cheeks hot. He thought I was too scared to leave the house. Things made more sense now. That was why my grandfather hadn't been working. He thought I was frightened, and had taken time off to coddle me.
To hell with both of them.
I stomped down the stairs and out the front door. When Haze pulled up in the car, I barely waited for him to stop before I got in and slammed the door behind me.
Nothing had changed. I'd survived being kidnapped and beaten, and I hadn't panicked. I'd kept my head, hadn't screamed or begged. In fact, I'd been trying to figure out how I could escape when Haze found me.
But all anyone could see was a spoiled princess.
Frustration simmered under my skin, and I didn't wait for the valet to open the door at La Pomme. I also didn't wait for Haze to follow. I knew he would. I also knew I was safe in the two feet that existed between the car door and the boutique.
The head stylist, Mia Downs, beamed at me as I entered. “Ah, such fire! I'm seeing black, femme fatale. Beautiful!” Her accent was faint, just enough to give her an exotic sound.
I sighed and managed a smile for her. “Mia, I'm sorry. Just a little problem with my staff.” I took a slow, deep breath. “But a few seconds in this paradise and I already feel better.”
Hero Book 3 - The Battle: Military Romance Page 6