She engaged him in a stare-down that would’ve ended in a stalemate if Jason hadn’t come back into the room, gripping two longnecks in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other.
“Your fridge needs a serious makeover,” he teased, handing Greer the glass of water and Chase a bottle of beer. They touched bottles in a toast.
“I know it’s rather bare.”
“It’s beyond bare,” Jason countered. “All you have is bottled water, beer, a single egg and a half stick of butter.”
Chase nodded. “Now you see why I eat at Stella’s. I’d planned to go the supermarket tomorrow but, about two minutes before you guys drove up, I got a call from a buddy to come and hang out with him for a couple weeks. He has a hunting lodge in Idaho overlooking a lake where we fly-fish, cook our catch over an open fire and watch sports channels 24/7.”
“Fishing is something I never got into,” Jason admitted.
Greer smiled at him. “I’ll have to teach you.”
“You fly-fish?” Jason questioned.
“Yes,” she said proudly. “My uncle taught me.”
Chase angled his head. “Maybe one of these days you’ll join us. The lodge sleeps twelve.”
Greer studied their host when Chase sat on the sofa, looping one denim-covered leg over the other. His jeans had been washed so much they were threadbare, and his faded navy-blue sweatshirt was equally shabby. Even his footwear had seen better days. The leather moccasins were torn and faded. He really intrigued her. He lived in a multimillion-dollar gated community, ate at a local no-frills restaurant and dressed as if he were homeless.
She took a sip of water, then set the glass down on the coaster on a side table. It was time to end the farce. “Chase, I’d love to see your house. Would you mind giving me a tour?”
Chase set down his beer on a matching coaster on the coffee table. “I’d love to, if your boyfriend doesn’t mind me monopolizing you for a few minutes.”
Nothing in Jason’s expression revealed his inner thoughts. “Greer is her own woman, and she doesn’t need my permission to do whatever she wants to do.”
A smile parted Chase’s lips. “That’s what I like. A man who is secure enough to trust his woman with another man.”
Jason glared at his friend. “It has nothing to do with being secure. It’s all about trust.”
Greer felt the rising tension and the posturing between the two men. Jason knew how she felt about Chase even if he hadn’t known she’d suspected his friend of selling illegal firearms.
“Jason’s right,” she said in defense of the man with whom she found herself fighting her feelings every second they shared the same space. She didn’t want to believe it, had fought the pull, but to no avail. She was falling in love with Jason. “We trust each other unconditionally.” She stood up, both men rising with her. “I would like that tour before it gets any later.”
Chase offered his arm, and she looped hers through his, feeling the heat of Jason’s gaze on her back as they walked out of the living room to a flight of stairs leading to the second level.
“I like that most houses in this development are different architectural styles,” she said, climbing the staircase. Greer felt she had to say something, anything to pretend she was interested in seeing Chase’s house, which she wasn’t in the least. Perhaps she would’ve been if he hadn’t mentioned them working for the same uncle. It didn’t take the intelligence of a genius to know he was talking about the federal government and perhaps the department of justice.
Chase led Greer down a long hallway to a room at the end. Pushing open the door, he stepped aside to allow her to enter first. She knew instantly it was his bedroom. It was wholly masculine with heavy dark furniture and a leather seating group. He indicated a chair near a window.
“Please sit down.” She complied as he sat on a bench at the foot of the large bed. “I’m going to make this quick, so listen carefully. I’m going away tomorrow for at least a month, and I want you to stick close to Jason.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I know who you are and what you do.” Chase held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Don’t say anything until I’m finished.” It wasn’t a request but a directive. “I know why you’re in Mission Grove. And please don’t ask me how I know.”
“Who the hell are you?” Greer asked, disobeying his demand.
“I’m someone who doesn’t exist, ATF Special Agent Evans. I’m what is referred to as a ghost.”
She closed her eyes, digesting this information. The FBI employed ghost agents whenever they wanted to keep surveillance on other agents they suspected of espionage. “Which agency?”
“It’s been eight years since I was connected to an agency. Right now I’m somewhat of a corporate warrior.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a professional mercenary.”
He smiled and removed the glasses with the tinted lenses. “Actually I prefer the term professional security expert.” Chase rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, then replaced the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did Jason tell you about the ongoing feud between Serenity and Slow Wyne Records?”
“No.”
“Ana signed Justin Glover to a recording contract in a bidding war with L.A.-based Slow Wyne Records. Although she’d come in with a much lower bid, it was the terms in Serenity’s contract that Glover’s agent felt were more advantageous to his client’s long-term career. Unfortunately Basil Irvine didn’t take kindly to being usurped by, what he referred to as, a little girl. In the end he was the one who wound up in the ground.”
Greer leaned forward. “What does this have to do with Jason?”
“There are people who believe he has replaced his sister as a target for Slow Wyne retaliation.”
“Who are these people?”
“I can’t tell you that. They’ve hired me to keep an eye on him. He’s safe as long as he’s behind the walls at Bear Ridge or at Stella’s. Fortunately he spends most of his time at home and the restaurant. But it’s when he’s out and about that he becomes a sitting duck. I have a few of my people watching him—”
“So you know that he’s been to my home,” she said, cutting Chase off.
He nodded. “And I know you’ve spent the night at his house. I’ve been paid very well to look after Jason because he’s more than a client. He’s a friend. I come to Stella’s before he arrives, and I always leave before he does. Most times he has no idea that he’s under surveillance. Unfortunately I’ve been called away on another assignment, and that’s where you come in.”
Greer was still trying to digest what Chase had just revealed. “Are your people still watching him?”
“Yes. I had someone place a tracking device under his Range Rover. What I need is for you to provide additional protection.”
Shock after shock slapped Greer. Vendettas, tracking devices and hit men were the elements in a televised movie-of-the-week thriller. “That’s not going to be that easy. I’m here on assignment.”
“I know that. Hanging out with Jason isn’t going to compromise that. If you help me out with this, I’m certain I’ll be able to repay the favor. My people are also ghosts, and I’m certain they’ll be able to ferret out who has been stealing and selling guns illegally.”
“How do you know so much about me when I can’t even pull up a file on you?”
“Connections.” Chase pushed off the bench. “Let me show you the other rooms before Jason sends out a search party for you. Does he know about your ex-husband?”
Greer rose to her feet. “Yes, I told him.”
“He knows about your ex, but not that you’re a special agent.”
“I can’t tell him, even if I want to.”
“Be ready for the fallout when he does find out,” Chase warne
d. “If you were any other woman, I don’t think it would bother him. But you’re different, Greer, because the man’s in love with you.”
Her jaw dropped. “He can’t be.”
“Why not? Only a blind person wouldn’t see what went on between you and Jason when you’re on stage together. More than half the men in Stella’s wanted to change places with him. Yours truly included,” he added with a sheepish expression. “What shocked me is that he didn’t bat an eye when I told him I wanted to ask you out.”
Greer laughed, the sound low and throaty. “That’s because I told him that you are not my type.”
Chase smiled. “So that’s why he’s so smug. All I can say is you have a good man.”
Greer agreed with Chase. Jason was a good man. One she knew she could eventually trust with her secret life. Chase had asked her to look out for his friend and client, a client unaware of his protective surveillance. Jason was also unaware that she never ventured outdoors without her leather tote that contained her badge and a Glock 26, 9 mm Luger semiautomatic handgun with three 10-round magazines. When at Stella’s she secured the pistol in her uncle’s safe where she kept the government-issued laptop; at home it was locked in a drawer in the cabinet where Bobby stored his rifles. Even if Chase hadn’t told her about the probable threat on Jason’s life, she knew she would step in to protect him if the occasion arose.
Greer tugged at her left earlobe. “I’d like you to answer two questions for me.”
“What is it?” Chase asked, sobering quickly.
“Were you Special Forces?”
Chase shook his head.
“Army Ranger or Navy SEAL?”
“The latter.”
“Is Charles Bromleigh Jr. your legal name?”
“No.”
“What—”
Chase held up a hand. “You said two questions, not three. Come on, let’s finish the tour so you and Jason can go home and do whatever it is you two do together.”
Greer was glad the darkness of the hallway hid the flush in her face as she followed Chase out of the master bedroom and into three smaller bedrooms that were twice the size of the one she occupied at her uncle’s house. The furnishings were indelibly American eclectic with Chippendale-style beds, chests and chairs. Each room contained an alcove with a sitting area near narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. All of the beds were covered with quilts and mounds of pillows in differing shapes and sizes matching white eyelet dust ruffles. Chase’s house did not have the more dramatic flair of Jason’s. It was the home of a man which, when he opened the door and walked into the house, was welcoming and cutoff from the world of danger where he floated in and out of like a specter.
She walked into the living room, stopping short. Jason had fallen asleep, his head at an odd angle, the half-empty bottle of beer on the table. It was obvious they were going to spend the night at his house rather than hers.
Shaking him gently, she waited for him to wake up. He opened his eyes, staring at her for several seconds before recognition dawned. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Come on, baby. Give me your keys. We’re going home.”
“You’re welcome to spend the night here,” Chase volunteered.
Greer shook her head. “That’s all right. I’ll drive. Besides, you’re leaving in the morning.”
“It’s already morning,” Jason slurred as he struggled to stand. “Damn! I must be more tired than I thought.” Rolling his head on his shoulders, he tried easing the tightness in his neck. He stumbled, but Chase caught him under the shoulder, bearing most of Jason’s weight.
“That does it. The two of you are staying over. It’s raining too hard for you to try and navigate the roads back to Jason’s house. I’ll show you to your bedroom. There are towels on a shelf and toothbrushes under the vanity in the bathroom. I’ll probably be gone by the time you get up.” He stared directly at Greer. “Jason knows where I keep an extra set of keys. Just lock the front door when you leave. The security system will activate automatically within forty-five seconds.”
Greer wanted to tell Chase that, although she’d spent the night at Jason’s, they hadn’t slept together. The only relief tonight was that he was too exhausted to do anything except sleep. He probably didn’t average more than four hours of sleep each night.
“Help me get him upstairs and into bed without him falling and cracking his noggin.”
Chase’s response was to hoist Jason over his shoulder as if he weighed two pounds rather than what she estimated to be two hundred. The corporate warrior, or mercenary as she thought of them, was several inches shorter than Jason and wiry. He’d admitted to being former Navy SEAL, and, as one, he had the intelligence, mental and physical toughness to withstand and overcome extreme conditions and situations. Picking up her tote, she followed Chase up the staircase and into the bedroom, pulling back the quilt and top sheet as Chase laid Jason on the crisp sheets.
“I’m sorry about not having anything in the refrigerator.”
Greer busied herself removing Jason’s socks. “That’s okay. Jason needs sleep not food. Tomorrow...I mean, today, is Sunday, so that means he can sleep in.” Turning she faced Chase, seeing the solitary man in a whole new light. Now she knew why he kept to himself. “Thank you for putting us up.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “There’s no need to thank me. Jason would do the same for me.” He took a quick glance at his sleeping friend. “I meant what I said about helping you once I get back.”
Greer nodded. As soon as she wrapped up this assignment, she had to decide whether or not to take her uncle up on his offer to run Stella’s. “Do you have a T-shirt I can use?” She had no intention of sleeping nude.
“Check the chest of drawers. My sister sleeps in this room when she comes to visit. She’s about your size, so I’m certain there’s something that will fit you.”
“Thank you again, Chase.”
“No problem.” He waved. “See you when I get back.”
Waiting until Chase walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, Greer shifted her attention to Jason sprawled on his back, snoring softly. Sleeping with Jason paled in comparison to what Chase had disclosed.
At first she didn’t want to believe him, thinking that he’d concocted a story to throw suspicion off himself. But Greer knew unequivocally that Chase was telling the truth. The secure government database—with names, addresses and birth dates of every documented person in the country and its territories—had listed Charles Bromleighs who were either too young or much too old to be the man everyone called Chase.
A shiver eddied up her body. Jason had become the target of someone bent on revenge. Feuds between rap artists, talk show hosts, athletes, actors and spurned reality stars were headline news for televised entertainment shows, magazines and supermarket tabloids. Now CEOs had waded into the same cesspool with the others. Greer would check her computer again. This time she would search for Slow Wyne Records.
Undressing Jason proved challenging. It was easier removing his sweater than his slacks. He was all muscle and dead weight. Greer left on his boxer-briefs. She found a nightgown, several packages of brand-new panties and a couple bras with the tags still attached. The panties were her size but not her style and the bras a cup size larger than her own.
It wasn’t important whether her borrowed garments would fit or not fit. Keeping her promise to Chase was.
Chapter 13
Jason woke disoriented. He knew he wasn’t in his bedroom because there were no skylights. That didn’t shock him as much as the soft warm body pressed against his side. Rising on an elbow, he stared at Greer. She was as lovely in sleep as in waking. His gaze moved slowly over her slightly parted lips, mussed hair clinging to her cheek and the rise and fall of firm breasts under a modest white cotton nightgown. He touched her hair, rubbing stran
ds between his fingers. Everything about her was fresh, natural. Watching her face in repose was short-lived when she shifted onto her right side.
Sliding back to the pillows cradling his shoulders and turning on his right, Jason rested an arm over Greer’s waist. He had to touch her, savor the warmth of her body and adore her openly.
Greer had accused him of wanting her for her voice, but he’d want her even if she sounded like a croaking frog. Jason admired not only her talent but also her strength, femininity and loyalty to her uncle. There was also her humility. She’d rejected the recording contract certain to bring her untold wealth and fame, and he’d engaged in an exercise of mental calisthenics as he had tried to come up with a plausible rationale as to why she wouldn’t accept his offer.
Jason knew his wanting to sign her up had everything to do with his ego. His father had established Serenity with the raison d’état of signing only new talent, and forty years later, he and Ana had continued the tradition.
He also didn’t want to believe he had slept with this woman and not made love to her. Unlike some of his college buddies and those with whom he’d maintained friendship from childhood, Jason had always been overly cautious as to whom he bedded. He had never engaged in one-night stands or slept with a woman until they’d dated for what he considered enough time to feel comfortable and/or to get to know her better. However, there was now one exception: Greer.
There was something inherently innate that told him she was the one. The one woman who could get him to consider changing his marital status to share his life and their future. He’d watched his twin sister with her new husband, and he saw something that hadn’t been apparent before. Ana was calmer, more reflective, as if she’d rid herself of the impulsivity that had been so much a part of her aggressive personality. If Ana was fire, then Jason was water. He would become her voice of reason—whenever she got into a snit while negotiating with a client’s agent, suggesting she step back and look at the deal from another angle. She’d accused him of being too soft and laid-back but Jason was quick to remind his sister and business partner that, although she’d earned a law degree, he was more than versed with the ins and outs of business. Degrees in music and an MBA had served him well when he’d taken over the reins of Serenity after she had gone into self-exile to escape the sniper who’d accidentally shot Tyler. He’d resented taking off his creative hat to replace it with the business one. Yet once he found himself holding staff meetings and making decisions that changed the business model for the company, the transition went smooth and the result was very effective. Even Ana had admitted he’d done a better job running Serenity than she had in the past.
Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) Page 16