Wild Irish (Book 1 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  “Not yet,” she said, evading him, motioning for him to sit on the edge of the bed. The music he’d put on earlier still played, its sensuous rhythm filled the room. She swayed her hips to the song and untied the belt to her robe as she danced away from him. He sat on the bed and watched, seeing her from both sides as she danced in front of the mirror on his dresser.

  His heart rate kicked faster. She wasn’t a practiced stripper, but her eager desire to please him and the allure of her own sensuality was more erotic than any professional dancer could be. His erection swelled. Any hotter and he was sure he’d self-destruct like a Roman Candle gone awry. Leaving the robe to hang open just enough to give him teasing glimpses of the peach satin panties, heels, and her naked breasts, she took the silk tie and looped it over his head. Then she dropped one end and pulled on the other, letting the cool silk ease across his neck and over his shoulder before she pulled it free.

  “Let me see you,” he asked softly. “Let me see your breasts move as you dance.”

  She smiled as she let the robe fall to the floor. He didn’t think he could get any more turned on than he already was, but he did as she turned around, swaying seductively, arching her back just enough to make her bottom and breasts seem as if they begged for him. With the mirror behind her, he could see all of her as she moved. She wore a thong and the heels. He thought he’d go crazy when she slid the silky tie of her robe along the length of his erection and rubbed it back and forth as she shimmied her breasts at him.

  He grabbed the tie from her and stood, deciding two could play this teasing game. He urged her to face the mirror and moved in behind her. Taking the silk tie, he looped it over her. Beginning at her shoulders and inching down to her breasts, he slid the tie back and forth until her nipples puckered and she arched into his touch, deliberately pressing her bottom against his erection. She watched his face in the mirror and he watched hers as he eased the tie downward and between her legs. There he used the same technique, soft quick strokes over her satin thong until he heard her breath catch. She hadn’t come yet but she was getting closer to the edge. Moving with her over to the dresser, he placed her hands on its polished surface and set a condom next to her.

  “Brace yourself and spread your legs, Lex.” He kneeled behind her, taking hold of her hips and kissing the soft globes of her bottom, squeezing and kneading her, relishing in the silkiness of her perfumed skin.

  “You are so beautiful, so hot and female, everywhere.” He ran his finger back and forth over the satin covered grove of her bottom before nudging her legs wider and kissing the insides of her thighs and her legs all the way down to her come on shoes. She shivered and groaned in response.

  She was hot and ready. Now he wanted her wet and begging. “Step out of this and lean over more.” He slid the thong down. “Now spread your legs even wider.” She did as he asked, but he needed more. “Bend more so I can reach your sweet sex.” She rested her elbows on the dresser and bent until her breasts brushed the polished wood. “Now watch your face in the mirror. Watch yourself come.”

  He spread the lips of her sex and dipped his tongue into her vagina. The nectar of her arousal was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Sliding a finger around to rub her clitoris, he kept darting his tongue in and out of her vagina. Just a soft feather-like penetration as he kept her hot spot captive to his caress. Her muscles tensed, her breathing hitched, and just as he sensed she was on the verge, he ran another finger along the sensitive nerves of the cleft of her bottom. Her hips jerked and she screamed out his name.

  When she’d stilled, her release complete, he stood, saw her flushed face in the mirror and the hard points of her nipples jutting upward, and couldn’t wait to get inside of her. He tore open the condom, slid it on, and then moving in behind her, he drove into her hot wet heat. “Give me more, Lexi. I want to feel you come again.”

  “Yes,” she said, rising up to press herself against him. “Yes.” He wound one hand around to her breasts and slid his other hand down to her clitoris. She gasped, shivered, and he set a driving rhythm, pumping himself into her. She matched his every stroke of her hot spot with a backward thrust. She was the hottest, sweetest, most responsive woman he’d ever been with and he couldn’t get deep enough into her. He went wild, shouting her name as an orgasm ripped through him. Hardly able to stand, he stumbled back to the bed dragging her with him. They fell onto the covers and he wrapped her in his arms.

  Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Alexi whispered to herself. She couldn’t say his name enough. Couldn’t get close enough to him. Aftershocks of pleasure continued to wash over her and tears rushed to her eyes. I love him. She ran her fingertips over the warm chiseled contours of his face and body, memorizing every line. She kissed his lips, drew deep breaths of his scent, and watched him drift off into sleep, committing every nuance to memory. Then quietly, she dressed and left.

  * * *

  Jesse awoke to the dimness of evening shadows around him and the distant sound of waves crashing in from the Atlantic. He sat up with a jerk. He was naked, and alone on the bed. Alexi’s peach robe, thong, and come on black shoes lay on the floor. He smiled, remembering their recent romp and got up to find her, everything was going to be fine. This sex thing was still going great. Walking naked from the bedroom, he wandered into the living room. "Hey, Lexi. How about we hit the hot tub and then order pizza.”

  He met with silence. “Alexi?” He checked both decks and then hurried into the kitchen. When he saw the note on the fridge, he cursed. It didn’t do any damn good for him to look out for her safety if she ran around without him. He yanked the note down, read it, froze, his stomach plummeting.

  Sorry, I can’t stay any longer with you. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe. Thanks for the best sex ever. Alexi.

  Rushing to the bedroom, he saw that the suitcase she’d set by the bedroom door was gone. Within minutes he’d dressed and had begun searching. A check of the last number dialed on his house phone showed that she had dialed Nan’s number. Jesse called Nan’s apartment and got no answer. Then he called the hospital only to learn Nan had left work just minutes before, which told him that Alexi couldn’t be with Nan.

  He grabbed the yellow pages and called taxis, making zero progress with the first five companies. No pickups had been made from his address. Before he dialed again, the doorbell rang.

  Alexi! He didn’t even realize he’d been actually praying that she’d be on his doorstep until he opened the door and saw a man, fiftyish, who seemed to have as much starch in his blue uniform as he had extra pounds around his middle. Coke bottle glasses magnified watery blue eyes. “Mr. Jesse Weldon?”

  The man sounded like Mr. Jeeves.com. “Who’s asking?”

  The man made a starched step to the side and pointed to a limo at the end of his drive. “Ahem…Ms. Jordan wants to see you.” The man coughed as he spoke.

  “She does, does she?” Somehow he hadn’t pictured Alexi being the type of woman to play games. So what in the hell was up with this? He marched out of the house, ready to cart her right back to his bed. This was not the least bit funny. It wasn’t until the window rolled down and he met the stony stare of Alexi’s grandmother that he realized the man had said Mrs. Jordan and not Miss Jordan. Somehow the starched driver bent enough to fit into the car.

  Katherine Jordan didn’t even glance at her driver; she kept glaring at him. “Is my granddaughter in your bed?”

  Jesse shook his head. Some things never changed and Katherine Jordan’s view of a Weldon’s worth was just one of those things. Though he knew Katherine Jordan was asking a general question, Jesse chose to answer it specifically. “No.”

  “Good. At least she has more sense that I thought.” Katherine Jordan imperiously tossed a duffel bag out the window. “See that she stays out of it. That should settle the problem.” Then she closed the mirrored window and the driver took off.

  “What the hell?” Jesse ate exhaust as he picked up the damn bag wondering if he was about to be blown u
p. It hit him then, as he stood there, glaring at the disappearing limo. Could Alexi’s own grandmother be behind the petty events? She could have hired someone to do the dirty work. Maybe the incidents had been scare tactics to make Alexi feel insecure enough to move back home. Jesse opened up the duffel bag. It was full of money. Alexi’s grandmother shot to the top of his suspect list and he knew just who to ask.

  He went inside and grabbed his keys. The phone rang. Hoping for Alexi, he rushed to answer it.

  “Jesse! Where’s Alexi. Please tell me she’s with you.”

  “Nan? She’s not here. What is it?”

  “Oh my God. Where is she? You aren’t going to believe—”

  “What’s happened, Nan?”

  “Her room. I mean the room she sleeps in whenever she stays with me has been trashed. I can’t even tell you how bad it is. You can’t bring Alexi to see it. It would totally freak her out. I’m freaked and I’m not even the target.”

  “Nan, please tell me you aren’t there alone. Have you called the police? Did you call Paul?”

  “I’m calling from the apartment next door. The police are on the way and yes I’ve called Paul. He’s coming. I tried you first, didn’t get an answer, called him, then called you again.”

  He’d been outside with Alexi’s grandmother. “Nan. I’m on my way.” Jesse disconnected, not waiting for a response. Grabbing his cell phone and the money, he left.

  As soon as he hit asphalt, he called Paul. “I’m on my way to Nan’s,” Paul said, not bothering with a hello.

  “So am I. My big question is where is Holstead?”

  “I followed him after work. He ate at a fancy seafood place on the water then went back to his house. An hour later the crew that cleans his house showed up and that’s it.”

  “Shit. There has to be something we’re missing. I’ve got big trouble. Alexi is gone.”

  “What do you mean gone?”

  “Hell. What else does gone mean? She left my place earlier this evening and I don’t know where she is.”

  “Shit.”

  “I already said that. I’ll see you at Nan’s.” Jesse disconnected and dialed his brother’s number.

  “What?” Jackson didn’t like for people to call. He liked to keep everybody shut out. After two years, Jesse was still waiting for his brother to rejoin the living.

  “I need help,” Jesse said.

  All he heard back was silence. “Did you hear me?” Jesse felt compelled to ask though he knew Jackson had heard.

  “Yes. What makes you think I can help?”

  “Because somewhere inside you is my freaking brother and I need him now. Alexi is missing and I need another man in my corner. You can start by calling any and every taxi service in the area and find out if they had any scheduled pickups from my house. Skip the first five. I’ve already covered them. Call me as soon as you find anything out, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” Jesse tossed the phone in the passenger seat and pressed the gas pedal almost to the floor. His greatest fear was that Alexi had made it to Nan’s and that the destruction there was because the son of a bitch after her got to her.

  The police, Paul, and Nan were at Nan’s when he arrived.

  “The red splatters are paint. Just so you’re prepared.”

  The look on Paul’s face told Jesse that this wasn’t a mild prank. As soon as Jesse saw the room his heart came to a complete stop then started back at a slow, dreading beat. Everything inside the room had been completely destroyed by an axe. Red droplets splattered everything in the room. Across one wall the words AJ is a bitch had been written in red. The letters were blurred as if they’d been written in blood and had dripped down the wall. Jesse’s stomach turned.

  Nan came up. She looked terrified and confused, her eyes haunted. “Jesse. Where’s Alexi?”

  Jesse gritted his teeth. “I don’t know where she is Nan. She left.”

  Nan grabbed his arm. “She left? What did you do…I mean where did she go? When?”

  “I don’t know where. As for when…” Jesse played back the afternoon’s time line. They’d left her father’s office about four-thirty. By the time they arrived home, Alexi showered and they’d made love, the earliest she could have left would have been seven-thirty. He’d awakened less than an hour later. “It can’t have been more than an hour and a half ago.”

  Nan sagged with relief. “Then she didn’t come here. Whoever did this didn’t get her here.”

  Jesse caught Nan’s shoulders. “How do you know?”

  “Shakespeare,” Nan said. “My neighbor found Shakespeare at six-thirty with red paint on him. At first my neighbor thought he was hurt. She bundled him up and brought him to my apartment. She found the door open and when I didn’t answer, she peeked inside, didn’t see anyone. So she figured I’d accidentally left the door open. She locked it and took Shakespeare home with her. Whoever did this was gone by six-thirty.”

  Paul walked up, sneezing. “The neighbor just told the police that no one came near Nan’s apartment after six-thirty. She said she kept an eagle eye, looking for Nan.”

  “Then Alexi didn’t come here.” Jesse felt as if he might be able to breathe. Seeing that room had sucked all the oxygen from him. “Maybe she’s gone back to the family home. What’s the number?”

  He dialed the number Nan gave him. But only the answering machine picked up. “I’m going over there.”

  “I’ll stay here with Nan until the police are through,” Paul said and sneezed.

  Jesse looked at Nan. “You aren’t staying here tonight.”

  Nan shivered. “No. I’m staying with my neighbor. Tomorrow I’m moving to a place with a security system.”

  “Good.”

  “Call me when you find her. Did you try the gallery?”

  Jesse smacked himself upside the head. He was losing it. He was a professional and he’d completely lost all of his objectivity. What in the hell was wrong with him? If anything happened to her, he had no one to blame but himself.

  Paul slapped Jesse shoulder. “You aren’t God, Boss. So don’t go hanging yourself for having feelings. You go to her house and I’ll hit the gallery then come back here.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything. He turned on his heel and left. But Paul’s line about feelings dug deep and Jesse had to face the fact that Alexi meant more to him than just a fling. That thought was hell, because he knew without a doubt that he totally sucked at relationships. He only knew one more thing. He had to find her and he had to find her quick.

  * * *

  Jesse’s cell phone rang as he pulled into the drive of Alexi’s family home. It was Jackson. “SweetWater Taxi picked her up from your place at eight and drove her to the airport.”

  She’d left fifteen minutes before he’d awakened.

  “Yes. James, Jared, and I are on our way there now. The place is small enough to see her or find someone who has.”

  Jesse exhaled a breath of relief. Maybe he could hold onto the hope that Alexi wasn’t in immediate danger, but he still had to get to her before the maniac after her did. He slid out of his car and grabbed the duffel bag of money. Just from a glance, there was probably over fifty thousand in the bag--a lot of loose change to be throwing around. Alexi’s father or grandmother had to have an idea of where she would go.

  A maid, a female version of the starched driver, answered the door and led Jesse into a dark-paneled room that had probably only changed moth balls since the eighteen hundreds. “I’ll let Mr. Jordan know you are here to see him, Mr. Weldon.”

  Jesse didn’t bother to sit on the antique furniture made for midgets. He paced. Fortunately, Robert Jordan appeared quickly. Unfortunately he wasn’t alone. Benny Whitaker, with a drink in his hand, was with him. Though large, something about the formal manner of Jordan and Whitaker fit the room in a way Jesse never would, and that was a good thing.

  “Well, Weldon? What brings you here?”

  “Your daughter’s life,” Jesse
said. “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but she’s been the target in acts of vandalism and those acts are escalating in their violence.”

  Robert Jordan paled. “What in God’s name are you talking about? Alexi in danger? Where is she?”

  Jesse sucked in air. “I have reason to believe that she’s taken a flight somewhere. I don’t know where, but I’m damn well going to find out. Twice since she walked out on her wedding, a room she was either supposed to stay in, or has stayed in, has been destroyed. Today the message written in red paint on the wall at Nan’s apartment was a direct slur against Alexi.”

  “Good Lord,” Benny said nearly spilling his drink. “You can’t be serious.”

  Jesse glared at the man. “This is no joke. If you don’t believe me you can go see the police at Nan’s.”

  “Hey.” Benny held up his hand. “I believe you. It’s just a bit much to take. No one would want to harm Alexi.”

  “Maybe,” Jesse said slowly. “Then again maybe you know someone who would.”

  Benny shot up out of his seat. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Exactly what I said. None of this started happening until her aborted wedding day. You’re friends with the jilted groom. Do you think he’s trying to terrorize Alexi?”

  “Roger? You’re actually accusing Roger of being a psycho?” Benny eased back into his seat and laughed, shaking his head at Alexi’s father. “Do you believe this, guy, Robert? He’s accusing Roger.”

  Robert Jordan frowned and cleared his throat. “Benny, I hate to say it, but something is seriously wrong here. Roger did seem to take being left at the altar rather hard.”

  “If we’re talking red paint I’d look at some of her artists. They walk the weird side if you ask me. But surely you can’t think Roger capable.”

  “I’m not sure what to think.” Robert Jordan turned and Jesse made a mental note about the red paint, but that seemed way too obvious. If he was an artist committing a crime he sure as hell wouldn’t use a self-damning medium. But we were talking whacko here. Jesse felt Alexi’s father’s hard scrutiny.