Unexpected Trouble (The Unexpected Series Book 3)

by Stacy Eaton

  Mrs. Tompkins dead cat was one of them. I’d been nine, and I found her half-decayed cat in the woods behind the house. The image had burned into my mind, and I’d had nightmares for a year. To this day, I still couldn’t be around a cat without shuddering.

  I was able to zip through the interview rather quickly, and then they had a sketch artist come in and work with me. I enjoyed doing that part. I wasn’t artistic in the slightest bit. I couldn’t even draw a straight line with a ruler, but with my comprehensive details and the detective’s computer program, we blew out the composite in short order.

  We were heading to his desk when I spied Greg with a cup of coffee, and my mouth began to water. I’d been jonesing for one since eight this morning. The brew was kind of gross and very bitter, but it was coffee and contained much-needed caffeine, so I practically sucked it down in seconds.

  Detective Highmore and I were almost done with the final touches to the composite when I felt a hand on my lower back and was getting ready to swing around and punch someone for being so brazen with their contact—but found it was Greg. I wasn’t sure that I should allow him to have such intimate contact either, but at least it was better than a stranger.

  I wasn’t surprised that Greg didn’t remember my ability to recall details. Back in high school, I hadn’t said much about it. People were always jealous because I could remember things so easily, and I usually just shrugged it off. No one in their teenage years wanted to be different than their friends. Nope, that could get you ostracized even faster than not dating the right guy or wearing the right clothes.

  Of course, I’d dated the right guy—until he left me—wore the right clothes, had all the proper friends, and hid my abilities from everyone. Every once in a while, I even purposely screwed up on a test or an assignment so people wouldn’t get suspicious.

  Of course, once I went into journalism, I found that my knack for remembering details after only seeing or hearing them for a moment was a blessing and helped gain me high honors in my classes, and a job. Sadly, the position wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it had gotten me in the door.

  I had learned that no matter where you worked, you had to start at the bottom and work your way up. While in Atlanta, I had done well for myself, and I was finally reporting serious news. I didn’t get many articles on the front page, but I was at least in the front section and not buried in the back of the paper. I had even started to get more of a following when we finally went digital, and I was able to track my links and shares on my articles.

  I had hoped another year or two, and I would have been in the running for the headlines. Only my mother got sick, and I decided to come home. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t help her? A few of my friends in Atlanta had told me to put her in a nursing home and let them take care of her, but I couldn’t do that. She had given everything of herself to me, been there for me every step of my life, so how could I not do the same for her when she needed me—especially with the fact that her faculties were diminishing.

  Now, there were full days that she didn’t know who I was. The first time I realized that she didn’t know me was a karate kick to the solar plexus. I had quietly reminded her that I was her daughter, Maggie, and then I had kept on talking. When I had finally stepped away from her, I had sunk to the floor and sobbed into my hands. I was used to it now, but somedays it still hurt a lot.

  “So, Ms. Valor, would you say that this is a correct representation of the man you saw in front of the jewelry store?”

  “Yes, that is the man I saw.”

  “Alright.” He grinned. “We will put this in front of Chuck and see what he says. Maybe knowing that we have a photograph of him, he might be more willing to give him up. He’s got to know that we’ll find him sooner or later.”

  “Until you do, should I be worried?”

  The detective stood. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sure he is trying to get out of the area. He’s going to want to sell those diamonds as quickly as he can, and he won’t be able to do that anywhere local.”

  “So, you don’t think that I should be worried that he has my address? All of our addresses?”

  “No, he’s not going to do anything. If the guy is smart, and I have to think that he has a few brain cells in that skull with the way he disappeared, he’s long gone from here. He probably hightailed it out of town within an hour of leaving the coffee shop.” I glanced at Greg and wondered if he agreed. “I appreciate you both coming down. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get this approved and out to patrol and then start my next interview. I’ll call you if we hear anything, or once we have the guy in custody.”

  Greg and I both shook his hand, and then Greg led me from the area and to the hallway that led to the front. At the counter, he stepped away. “Did someone drop off keys for Gregory Blaire?”

  “Yes, sir.” He tossed them to him, and Greg thanked him as we left. We found his truck, and he helped me into the passenger side. I found myself glancing in the back to make sure there were no car seats back there. He must have noticed because he chuckled and shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s your address?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to take you home.”

  “I don’t want to go home. I need to go to work. My boss was already pissed at me this morning about my latest column; I’m sure he wants my head on a silver platter now since I haven’t been to work yet, and it’s—holy crap! It’s almost two in the afternoon. No wonder I’m starving.”

  “Want to grab a bite to eat on the way to your office?”

  “No, I keep snack bars in my desk drawer. That will have to do today. I have to get the next three articles written.”

  “Do you know what those are going to be about?”

  “Yes, they will continue today’s subject: ten ways to tell he is the one.” He chuckled. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing, I never imagined you writing an advice column, especially about romance. I figured you’d be knee-deep in politics.”

  “Oh, I wish I were, but jobs in journalism are tough to come by around here. Maybe if I were still in Atlanta—”

  He peered my way. “Did your divorce send you back this way?”

  “My divorce? Um, no. I came back to take care of my mom.”

  That grabbed his attention; he had always liked my mom. He thought she was cool. Probably because she didn’t give him grief about hanging out in my bedroom for hours at a time. She might have even known what we were doing, but she never said anything. She had been a cool mom.

  “Is your mom okay?”

  I sighed. “No, she has early-onset dementia. She was diagnosed seven years ago. I came home to take care of her then.”

  “Does she live with you?”

  “Actually, I live with her in my childhood home. When I moved back, I knocked down the wall between my bedroom and my father’s old office and made it all one big room; it even has a door to the bathroom. It’s not perfect, but I’m close to her, and I can help her.”

  “What does she do during the day when you are working? Is she well enough to be home alone?”

  “She goes to day care.” I frowned. “I hate saying that; it makes it sound like she’s a child, but in many ways she is. She forgets things, sometimes doesn’t know who I am, and gets confused on simple tasks. She gets picked up every morning by their bus and brought home at night. If I have to work late, I have a couple of neighbors that I can call to come over and sit with her.”

  “Wow, I can only imagine how difficult that is.”

  “It has its moments. I’m lucky that Mom has been stable for the last few years, and the treatment that we have her on slowed the progression, until recently. Her doctors say that she is in the next phase, and things are going to move quickly again. I’ve been thinking that it might be time for a home, but I don’t know. She still has good days, and I don’t want to miss out on that time.”

  “Take advantage of that, Mags.
That is one thing I regret, not having extra time with my parents in the end.”

  “Your parents have passed?”

  “Yeah, Mom about six years ago, and Dad three. Mom had breast cancer; Dad stopped taking care of himself after she passed, and he ended up with diabetes. He refused to follow the treatment plan the doctors gave him, and it ended up killing him. To be honest, I think he just wanted to go so he could be with her.”

  “I’m sorry, Greg. I remember how close your parents were.”

  “Thanks. I got the notice of his death a week before I was set to come home on leave. Leave was pushed up, and I returned for his funeral instead.”

  “Where are you living now?”

  He grinned my way. “At my old childhood home.”

  I laughed. “How funny that we both came back to our childhood homes. If you had asked me fifteen years ago if I ever saw myself doing that, I would have laughed at you. I was just getting married and had plans of grandeur and traveling the globe, reporting the news with my husband.”

  “He was a reporter?”

  I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to talk about my ex-husband, but I had brought it up. “Yes, he was, and we got divorced because we should never have gotten married in the first place. I knew it, he knew it, and his inability to stay faithful was just the added proof; eighteen months after we married, we joint filed.”

  His jaw went slack as he turned toward me. “You’re shitting me? He cheated on you?”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Why do you seem surprised by that? People cheat all the time.”

  He compressed his lips tightly. “Because I can’t believe someone would cheat on you. I mean, look at you.”

  I snorted in laughter. “Oh, come on, Greg. You make it sound like I’m something special. I’m just a woman, and he liked women. He liked lots of women, and he liked to do some damn kinky things with them, too.”

  His brows spiked high. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I saw pictures and videos. He liked to keep a record of them.”

  He turned his head slowly toward me. “He made sex tapes of other women and kept them?”

  “And a couple men, too.”

  He choked slightly, and his mouth opened and closed before he finally spit the words out. “Are you serious?”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “No, I made that up. Yes, he liked women; yes, he made tapes. He never asked to tie me up or spank me or use crazy toys, but he did with other people. I think he might have married me to keep up a certain persona. When I found the tapes and confronted him, he almost passed out. I told him he would give me a nice amicable divorce, and I would not destroy him in our social circle.”

  He chuckled. “You are nicer than I am.”

  “Oh, that is for sure.”

  He was stopped at a traffic light and turned to me. “Why do you make that sound like I’m a terrible guy?”

  “You are. I’m still not over you breaking my heart.”

  “Mags, that was nineteen years ago, almost twenty now. I never took you for a woman who held a grudge.”

  “I don’t, but I guess seeing you again has brought back memories.”

  He flipped his blinker on and pulled into the parking lot at the paper. He parked his truck and then turned to me, reaching for my hand. “Maggie, I’m sorry for hurting you. I truly am. Believe it or not, it hurt me too, and I missed you like crazy when I went overseas, but I made the right decision. I’ve never been interested in getting married, having a family, staying home, and building that kind of life. I have always had one foot out the door, ready to go, ready to fight, ready to do what was needed.”

  “And now, Greg? Is that the kind of life that you still want?”

  He swallowed and squeezed my hand. “That is who I am, Mags. It is who I always will be.”

  Chapter Nine

  Gregory

  Should I feel guilty for saying that to her? Maybe, but I couldn’t feel guilty because it was the truth. If I couldn’t be truthful to myself, who could I be honest with?

  “I’m glad that you know what you want, Greg.” Her words were laced with an edge of sadness that made my heart ache.

  “And I’m sorry that you haven’t found the right man.” Perhaps I should have said that someday she would, but would that be another lie for her to throw back in my face? What if she didn’t have a soulmate out there that she would one day find? What if she never fell in love again, or had someone love her back?

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Greg. It was good seeing you again.” She leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I turned my face to hers, so close that our breath mingled, and I could see the flecks of lighter blue in her eyes that always made me smile.

  I had the sudden urge to pull her over the console and rest her on my lap. Maybe toss her in the back seat and join her there. It wouldn’t be the first time that we had sex in a truck. Her pretty blue eyes searched my face, pausing on my lips as her hand touched my cheek. Her fingers traced down the line of my jaw, and then she ran a finger over my bottom lip. Damn, if I didn’t want to nip it with my teeth and suck it into my mouth.

  “Bye, Greg.”

  “Bye, Maggie.”

  Her eyes held mine again as if she were daring me to lean forward, to kiss her just once. Nope, not going to happen. I was pretty sure if I kissed her once, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I wasn’t going to do that after what I’d just said to her. She wanted more, and I couldn’t give her more.

  I heard her soft sigh as she shifted away from me and climbed out of the truck, never looking back—kind of like what I did when I said goodbye to her nineteen years ago. I had broken up with her all those years ago to protect her, to allow her to find love, to have happiness, and to achieve all she ever dreamed out of life.

  It pissed me off that she never accomplished those things. That she didn’t have the family she had once talked about, didn’t have a man who treasured her more than life itself. She deserved that. Hell, she was worthy of a lot more than that.

  I watched her head into the building from over my shoulder. Once she disappeared inside, I pulled out and headed to my office. It had been nice to see her again, but I needed to get focused and forget about the past.

  I hit a deli and grabbed a sandwich before I parked in the parking garage behind our office building and made my way up to the office.

  Alice was on the phone when I stepped in and put her hand up to stop me from disappearing. As I studied her, I found myself comparing Maggie with Alice.

  Total. Opposites.

  Alice had dark-black hair, an olive complexion, and dark, mysterious eyes. Maggie was fair, blond, and had those damn beautiful smoky-blue irises that could be seductive as hell one moment and so damn sweet the next that you could get a cavity staring into them.

  I growled to myself as I whispered, “I’ll be right back.” I went back to my desk, dropped my food bag, and then hit the head before I returned to the reception desk again.

  “You have three messages, and Jake wants you to call him the moment you get back in the office.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He had to run out to a job; that’s why he wants you to call him.”

  “Alright, I’ll give him a call.”

  I started to turn away, and she leaned forward, causing me to pause. “So tell me about her?”

  “Who?”

  “Maggie Valor. I thought you were joking when you said you knew her, but I saw you two on television hugging. You really do know her, don’t you?”

  “What news?”

  “The local, you fool. The paper has a picture of you two on their website, with a link to the television station.”

  “I’ll check it out,” I told her as I started to leave again.

  “Wait! Why didn’t you tell me you two were a thing? I want you to hook me up with her. I have some questions.”

  “About what? Me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “About her column, Blaire.
Who cares about you?”

  “Nice, Alice.” I laughed as she stuck her tongue out at me playfully and then answered the now ringing phone.

  Back at my desk, I started logging into my computer and then pulled out my hoagie, unrolling it from the paper wrapping as my stomach growled. I took a massive bite from the sandwich before I logged on to the internet and searched the paper.

  Right there on the front page was an article about the incident and a photograph beside it with the heading, “Local reporter taken hostage along with eighteen others.” I stared at the photo of us. I had an arm around her waist, and my hand cupped her cheek. I was leaning toward her like I was about to kiss her; behind us, a few cops watched. “Well, crap.”

  “Greg,” Alice yelled back to me. “Take your phone off do not disturb; I have Jake on the line for you.”

  “Okay,” I called around my mouthful and hit the button. A second later, the phone on my desk began to ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Why didn’t you call me? I told Alice to have you call me as soon as you got in.”

  “Jake, man, I’ve been in the office for less than five minutes, and I’m trying to eat my sandwich. I haven’t had anything to eat all damn day.”

  He sighed. “Fine. You’re going to need the fuel. You have exactly five to finish what you are eating, and then you need to grab your go-bag and meet me at the airport.”

  I was chewing as he spoke and asked my next question around another mouthful. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to get down to Washington and explain why we have to oversee that damn shipment. They think they can just send those relief medical supplies over there and no one will mess with it. They are stupid fucking bureaucrats that only think about saving a buck to line their own damn pockets.”

  “You can’t go alone?”

  “No, I can’t. This is your job. I’m going because it’s my company, but you’re the one that has been overseeing this entire project, so finish stuffing your face and get your ass in gear. Alice has the details. I’ll see you at the gate.” He hung up before I could even give him a Roger.