Jared laughed. “Are you really in the best position to judge?”
She chuckled. “No.” She got up and attempted to take their empty glasses into the kitchen, colliding with the walls as she went. She snorted. Jared followed her in and took the glasses from her before she could break them.
“I’m afraid I’ve had too much to drive. May I encroach on your hospitality a little more and sleep on your couch?”
“Of course. I’ll get you a blanket.”
Zea pulled the linen closet open and retrieved what she needed. Closing the door, she yelped. Jared was standing behind it.
“Sorry.” He smiled and took the blanket from her. “Are you all right?”
She caught her breath and grinned. “Yes. You know where everything is; just help yourself.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in and kissed her quick, at the side of her mouth. “Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
She opened her eyes. Breathing. Not hers. She froze. Then there was nothing. She steeled herself and sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. The room was empty. She slid out of bed and checked the bathroom. Empty. Her bedroom door was ajar. She padded out into the hallway. The house was silent.
“Jared?”
Nothing. She cleared her throat.
“Jared?” Louder.
She heard him now, shuffling from the living room to the hallway, hair on end, half asleep. She relaxed. He gave her a dopey smile, looking much younger than he usually did.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean to wake you. I got spooked, is all. Thought I heard something.”
“Do you want me to check?”
“No, no, please. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
Jared gave her a wave and disappeared. Zea shook her head. Stupid, paranoid woman. She went back into her bedroom and got into bed.
Outside Zea’s apartment, Flynt Newlan stared up at her window. His face was expressionless, his eyes hooded and distant. After a moment, he got back into his car and started the engine, revving it.
She has someone else.
Flynt’s jaw clenched. He didn’t get involved; it was his number one rule … but there was something about this woman. Her dark, dusky looks, the promise of a fiery temper that could blow any minute. The feel of her soft wet cunt as he fucked her … damn.
But the fact that she had another man in her apartment—well. That answered his question for him. Don’t get involved, man. That way lies madness.
Flynt gunned the engine and sped out of the city. He was a lone wolf, always had been, always would be.
Just because thinking about Zea is keeping you up nights, that don’t mean squat, Flynt, man.
She was just another girl.
Despite her protestations, Emory was glad Luca had persuaded her to let him stay with her. “We need to let things settle down, baby.”
Emory turned away from the window now. Nighttime was both her pleasure—when she and Luca really did shut the world out—and her fear. Because Ray was out there and she knew that one day, he would come for her.
And when he did, Emory wasn’t certain which one of them would make it out alive.
Ray Grace had seen the light in the trees at the back of the apartment for two nights now. He turned out the lamps in the living room and used his camera lens to focus in on it. It was just after ten o’clock and the late summer sun had been set for an hour. In the gloom, he could see the light moving toward the apartment, the paved area at the back. It stopped at the tree line.
He brought the camera up to his eye and zoomed. He started to laugh to himself. So the billionaire had someone spying on him. Moron. His smile faded. Luca Saffran was a fly to be swatted, not a big problem, but still a nuisance—he was getting in the way of Ray killing his ex-wife, and that was no use. Still, he’d think of a way to distract him and then Emory would be his.
Ray put his camera away, checking the equipment was stored properly. He lay down on the bed. He thought about the last time he’d seen Emory, the time he’d tried to choke her to death. He was glad now he had failed; it would have been too easy a death for her. He wanted to feel her blood on his hands. He turned over and lay on his side, sliding his hand down his underwear to stroke his cock.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself as David Azano, thrusting a blade into Emory over and over. Except Azano had been an amateur. He, Ray, would have sought her out first, put a bullet into that beautiful body of hers, somewhere where it would take her time to die. Ray grunted as his hard-on grew painful at the thought of it. Azano’s knife driving into her soft abdomen, her gasp of agony—God, he would have given anything to have been there.
Because he’d dreamed of that moment a million times during their marriage. Even when they were happy—or at least when they thought they were happy—he would sometimes fantasize about killing her. They’d be in the kitchen, preparing supper, and he would pick up a knife and just for a split second, imagine pushing her back against a wall and driving it into her.
Ray groaned and came, thick spurts of semen covering himself and the sheets. He showered after and it was in the shower when the idea came to him. God, it was so simple, so ridiculously simple, that he laughed out loud.
He knew exactly how to get to Emory. Exactly …
Flynt Newlan was the first customer in the diner the next morning. Teresa goggled at him. “Flynt Newlan is up before noon? Is it Christmas? Or is it a Zombie Apocalypse?”
Flynt groaned, and she could see he was hungover. “Don’t bust my balls, bubba.”
“Rough night?”
He merely grunted, and Teresa grinned. She ordered his usual hangover breakfast—four eggs, sunny-side-up, and half a sourdough loaf, sliced and toasted until almost burnt. Flynt looked at her gratefully as she dumped the laden plate in front of him and topped off his black coffee. Flynt fell onto his food while Teresa slid a large glass of cold water next to his plate.
Flynt ate for a few minutes then glanced at Teresa. “Zea in today?”
Teresa rolled her eyes. She knew Flynt’s reputation, had grown up with him. “You leave that girl alone. She doesn’t need someone like you to mess her up. I think that one has had it hard; don’t ask me how I know. I just sensed it about her.”
Flynt muttered something about ‘mad psychic’ and Teresa flicked a dishcloth at him, chuckling.
She looked up and saw Zea pushing open the diner door, laughing and chatting with the man who’d come to see her a few days ago. Zea’s eyes flicked to Flynt and Teresa saw her cheeks flush a little. She sighed inside. Goddamn. Flynt had already gotten to her young friend.
Zea introduced Jared to Teresa, telling her he was an old friend. She ignored Flynt, who was staring at the newcomer.
“Hey,” he said, nodding at Jared, so Zea was forced to introduce Flynt to him. The two men shook hands.
“Good to meet you.” Jared smiled at Flynt, who grunted and went back to his food. Zea glared at the back of his head.
“Anyways, we just came in to say hello,” she said to Teresa, who rolled her eyes at Flynt, then smiled at Zea.
Zea and Jared didn’t stay long, and when they had gone, Teresa decided to rib Flynt a little. Served him right for messing with Zea’s head.
“So, he seems nice. Wonder if they’re dating?”
Flynt muttered to himself. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I don’t like the way he looks at her.”
Teresa’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s this? Flynt Newlan … have you fallen for a woman, at last? Didn’t think you had it in ya.”
Flynt made a disgusted noise. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just saying. The guy looks like a creep to me.”
Teresa studied him. “Flynt … I mean this … Zea is not a woman built for your kind of crap. She needs a grown-up. You ready for that?”
Flynt grimaced. “Did I come here for a lecture?”
Teresa sighed. As long as she ha
d known him, she still knew very little about him, apart from that he was a woman’s worst nightmare. Drop-dead gorgeous with that swagger of his, never committed, never gave anything away. Nightmare. But even she could see the appeal of him—unless you fell for him, and by the way Zea had tried to studiously avoid him, something had happened between them.
“Have you slept with Zea?”
Flynt grinned. “I don’t know about sleeping…”
“God, I knew it. I’m warning you now, Flynt Newlan—you break that girl’s heart, and you’ll answer to me.”
Flynt wiped his mouth. “You don’t need to worry about that, Terry. Looks like she’s got someone else to occupy her now.”
“Your boyfriend’s back.”
Flynt shouldered his way into the small kitchen, carrying a tray of dirty cups. Zea looked at him in amazement. Since she’d introduced him to Jared a week ago, she hadn’t seen him at all. Her brain told her that was a good thing, but her body craved his touch.
“You work here now?”
Flynt dumped the crockery into the sink and cranked the faucet. He squeezed some soap into the water and started to wash the cups.
“Voluntary service. I’m bored. Anyhow, as I was saying, the creepy brother-in-law’s back again. What is that—the third time this week?”
“Fourth. And have you been spying on me, Flynt Newlan? That’s just sad.” Zea peered through the round window in the kitchen door. She saw Jared, waiting patiently at the counter. “And he’s not creepy,” she added, after seeing Flynt’s disbelieving face. “Hey, we’re getting to know one another; be nice.”
Flynt snorted. Zea ignored him and took some freshly baked muffins from the oven. Burning her fingers and wincing, she popped them from the tin and arranged them on the cake rack to cool. Bringing a rush of cool air and rain in with her, Teresa came through the back door, ready for her shift.
“Hey, kids.” She shrugged off her coat and hung it up, casting an eye over Flynt’s handiwork. “Am I dreaming?”
Flynt blew her a sarcastic kiss and Zea laughed.
“Hey, girlie, can you take over here? Apparently, I’ve got a visitor.” Teresa shot a glance at Flynt, who pulled a face.
“Again?”
“Uh-huh.”
Zea ignored them both and went out to greet Jared, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
“Hey, Jared.” She noticed how formal he was, sitting almost ramrod straight on the counter stool. His spotless, ever-present suit and tie, gray today, with a lighter gray shirt. His blue eyes were clear but narrowed. Jared, Zea decided of late, had the bad luck to look permanently suspicious—one of the ways he differed from David.
“Hello, Zea. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. Same as yesterday.” She smiled, but there was an edge to her voice. “Don’t you have anything else to do but hang out in here?” She checked herself. “Sorry, that was rude. I meant to say, don’t you get bored?” She poured him a black coffee, and he raised his cup.
“Of your company, never. Hello.”
Zea turned to see Flynt behind her. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.
“I was wondering if I could take you to lunch. I would like to talk to you … in private.” Jared’s voice was hard.
He cut his eyes to Flynt and Teresa, who had sidled from the kitchen, and who were both openly and unashamedly listening to their conversation. Zea sensed them behind her but didn’t turn.
“I’m sorry, Jared, I have to work all day for the next couple of days. It’s our busiest time of the week. How about I show you around on…” She turned to look at the calendar, moving a smirking Flynt out of the way. She turned back to Jared, managing to get in a little punch to Flynt’s kidney. He laughed. Jared stared at him in dislike. “Thursday? Holly is in that day, so I can skip out early. Come to my apartment around six?”
“Fine.” He gave her a quick smile and left as quickly as he’d arrived.
“Freak.”
Zea ignored Flynt and went to clear a table. When she came back, she eyed him. “Have you got a job, Flynt?”
He grinned. “I protect the staff of this fine diner from rapscallions and vagabonds. It’s tiring work.”
She sniggered. “Rapscallions?”
“Yes, rapscallions. Also,” he paused to kiss her cheek before backing away with a mischievous look on his face, “from creepy brothers-in-law. Oooooooo.”
Zea shook her head, laughing. “Fool. Go on, scram.”
Teresa stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Is the foreplay over? Is it safe to come out now?”
Zea grinned at her. “You were right about that one,” she said regretfully. “Trouble.”
Teresa studied her. “You’ve fallen for him.”
“Hell, no,” Zea said firmly, but inside, she knew she wasn’t telling the entire truth.
Emory felt sick. Another day, another news story making up lies about her. Now they were saying she’d faked her injuries. That David Azano was obsessed with her. That she was the reason he went insane and killed eleven people. That she was a femme fatale.
That she was a whore.
God.
Luca couldn’t make her feel better—in fact, she’d asked for some time alone. “Just for an hour or two, baby,” she’d said to him, and he’d understood. God, she was crazy about this man, but she needed that time to cry and yell and get it out.
She did all those things in the luxury apartment that Luca had provided for her. How did I get here? she wondered, as she calmed down. What the hell is my life now?
She heard the key in the door and turned, expecting to see Luca.
Instead, Bree Saffran stood in the doorway, staring at her.
Zea had worked since six a.m., and she was exhausted. Not only that, but her entire day had been ruined by the fact that on the front of every newspaper she’d seen, David’s face stared out at her. New lies, new revelations. She didn’t believe the stuff about Emory for a moment. She had known Emory and liked her immensely. The two women had been friendly, and she knew David had liked the other woman, but no way had he been obsessed with her. He’d felt sorry for her being married to that monster, Ray Grace.
Zea wondered if the man was behind this smearing of Emory’s character. Zea had met Ray Grace a few times and thought he was a loathsome creep—and wondered how the hell a bright and beautiful woman like Emory ever married him.
And then, on the walk home, using the evening air to try and clear her headache, Flynt had pulled up alongside her in his car and called out to her.
She turned and glared at him. “Does it hurt your knuckles when you drag them along the ground, you Neanderthal? Would it kill you to treat me as something other than a convenient hole?” She hated snapping, but Flynt was the only person around, and she had to vent at someone.
To her chagrin, Flynt just grinned. “Bad day, sweetheart?”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t. Don’t flatter yourself. See you around.”
Asshole. She stared after his car as he gunned the engine and took off. She hated that she felt guilty about being rude to him.
Sighing, she turned for home. I need an evening away from men … all the men in my life.
But she’d only been home for a half hour before the knock on the door came.
“Bree.” Emory felt breathless as the teenager gazed at her. There was hurt in the girl’s dark eyes, so like her father’s, and Emory could barely look at her. “Bree, I’m so sorry about this.”
Bree walked into the room, still wary. “It’s okay.”
Emory shook her head. “It’s not, Bree. It’s not okay at all.”
Bree hesitated, then sat down. Emory sat opposite her, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Protection against the onslaught.
But Bree was calm, and now Emory saw compassion in her eyes. Bree cleared her throat.
“I’m not mad at you, Em; how could I be? I told D
ad to go for it, and after all you’ve done for me, you are my blood. I’m mad at Dad. For handling it wrong, for not giving my mom a heads up. She deserves better.”
Emory relaxed her position a little. “Yes, she does, and I am sorry for my part in her distress, please believe me.”
“I do. And Mom knows that, too. She just rocked back, is all. She’s not over Dad.”
Emory could think of nothing to say to that. Bree half-smiled at her. “Do you love him?”
Slowly, Emory nodded, and Bree grinned. “Good. Then all this crap is worth it.”
She got up and came over to hug Emory. Emory felt like bursting into tears—a few escaped. Bree’s eyes were red, too.
“I’m really sorry about all this shit in the press, too.”
Emory sighed. “It’s my ex-husband’s doing.”
Bree shook her head, disbelieving. “How the hell were you married to him? All of us used to talk about it. It was like seeing Tinkerbell married to Hannibal Lecter.”
Emory burst out laughing. “That’s quite an image, and for what it’s worth, I wish I could remember what I was thinking when I married him. My mom had just died, and he was there for me. He appeared charming, and I was such a mess. It wasn’t long after the wedding that he revealed himself, but my confidence by then was rock-bottom.”
“Men.”
Emory grinned. “Men,” she agreed. “Listen, do you want to stay? We can get pizza and watch trashy TV.?”
Bree looked regretful. ’I would, but I’ve arranged to meet some friends. Raincheck?”
“You bet.”
Another knock at the door, louder. Zea sighed and got up. She walked slowly across the hallway, feeling the numbness creeping over her body. Her mind. She pulled the door open, and Jared smiled at her. “Hello again.”
Zea leaned against the doorframe. “Oh. Jared, I’m so sorry, I forgot our date. Do you mind if we make it another night? I’ve had a really rough day.” She looked up, and a chill ran through her. His expression was rigid, frozen. Fury. She balked. “I’m sorry, Jared, I really did forget. It’s been a bad day.”
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