Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3)

by Tamra Baumann

  Sara loosened her grip, but only slightly. “Seriously. Why are you here? Did something go wrong at home? Are Mom and Mario okay?”

  Dani peeled the arms cutting off her airway from her neck. “We’re all here to celebrate Christmas with you.” Her sister struck an Annalisa Botelli movie star pose. “Botellis are always together at Christmas. Even if it’s almost New Year’s.” Her sister’s impersonation of their mom was spot-on. “It’s rule number fifteen from the How To Be An Acceptable Daughter handbook. Did you lose your copy? If so, I’ll get you another.”

  Sara laughed. Her sister could take that act on the road, it was so good. “Did Grams come too?”

  “Yes. And a few others you’ll be happy to see.” Dani took Sara’s hands and pulled her off the bed. “But not until you get showered and changed. You’re disgusting.”

  While being dragged to the bath, Sara asked, “But that many people could compromise our location, right? I thought only Mom and Jake were supposed to know where this place is.”

  Dani nodded. “Mom has another secret place like this somewhere in the world too, apparently. She couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone for Christmas. So it was worth the compromise. And you’ll probably be moving again soon.”

  “Great.” Sara unbuttoned her shirt and stepped out of her jeans.

  Dani turned on the water all the way to hot. “Might need to steam-clean you after four days.”

  “I’m not interested in being boiled like a lobster, thank you very much.” She turned the lever to the middle and then stepped inside. She didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t help herself. “Do you know if Brent’s okay?”

  “Brent’s fine. Not that you care, of course.” Dani slapped the shower door closed. “Hurry up. I’m dying to open presents.”

  “It might take a while. It’s actually been five days since I showered. Brent dragged me to the station before I could get cleaned up,” she called out as she leaned her head back and let the warm water sluice over her.

  “Thanks for oversharing, Typhoid Mary. Hurry, or all the food will be gone.”

  “’Kay.” How amazing was it that her whole family had come to be with her? It should make her happy to her core, but then, why was she crying, dammit? She opened her eyes and found the body wash.

  As she rubbed the floral scent all over, she let her mind go where she hadn’t allowed it to for days.

  She might forgive Brent one day for dragging her to the station and putting her life in danger. But it hadn’t happened yet. And she might even be able to forgive him for putting his job before her because of his messed-up priorities.

  She rinsed off and then reached for the shampoo.

  But in the end, they’d never work. She and Brent were just too different. People who’d never see eye to eye on fundamental parts of life. Like her fame. He’d never be able to do another undercover job that he so dearly hoped to do if he was with her. The cameras were everywhere in her life. And Brent made it clear by his actions that his job came first.

  She poured conditioner into her hand. It was her usual brand. Her mother thought of everything.

  Back to Brent. Money. That was where the crux of the problem lay with them. He was obsessed with it, and she couldn’t care less if she lived in a tiny apartment the rest of her life. Fundamental beliefs. People didn’t change those unless they made huge efforts to make that happen. And she was finally happy with who she was, so Brent could just go his own way and live in his bubble on the beach.

  She rinsed her hair clean and turned off the tap. She grabbed a big fluffy towel that hung on a rack nearby and dried off as she walked to the closet. She’d bet a dollar it was filled with clothes her size.

  After wiping the last tears from her eyes, and determined to block any more thoughts of Brent, she slid the mirrored door back, and voila! Designer labels in her size abounded. “Even on a remote tropical island where no one was supposed to see me, Mom? Geez.” She chose a dark green top and black silk pants, and then crossed to the dresser. It was filled with expensive lingerie. “Who was this for? John?” Her mother believed that women should always wear nice things underneath no matter what they wore on the outside. Not in case of a car accident like other moms feared. Her mom meant that one should always be prepared in case they run into a handsome man they’d like to sleep with.

  After changing into her new clothes and finding a pair of black flats, she grabbed a blow dryer from a hook on the bathroom wall. One nice thing about having short hair was how fast she could get ready. Brent had done such a great job of cutting layers that she could style her new do with only the dryer and her fingers. So okay, that was something she’d probably miss about him. His ability to cut hair. And the way he teased her. And the way he made love— Stop. No more. There was going to be no missing Brent. It was counterproductive to her mood and her sanity.

  But being depressed over him helped her catch up on her sleep, apparently. There was always a silver lining in a storm cloud if one looked hard enough. Another of her mother’s sayings.

  God, help her. She was turning into her mother. She’d be naming coconuts and volleyballs next, left all alone on her mom’s island. But safe. She hoped Brent stayed safe too.

  See? She could have a civil thought about him. Must already be over the guy. The threatening tears again were happy tears at the prospect of seeing her family. That was all.

  Sara switched off the blow dryer and headed toward the great room. The sound of voices quickened her step. Was that Zoila’s cute accent she’d heard? And Justin too? Yes! It was going to be a great Christmas after all!

  After a fun day of celebrations, Sara cuddled up next to Grams and Mittens on the couch and watched the Christmas lights twinkle on the crooked little tree. “That was the best Christmas ever.”

  Dani had stayed up after their island holiday celebration too and said, “It was. But I’m ready to go home tomorrow. I miss Michael and the girls.”

  Grams nodded. “You’re going to be the best stepmom ever. They already love you.” Then she turned Sara’s way. “I hope your Brent will makes things right again so you can go home soon too, honey. But now Mittens and I are pooped. See you both in the morning.” She lifted up the cat and headed for bed.

  “Night, Grams,” they said in unison before Dani turned to Sara. “And how about you? Missing your Brent?”

  “Nope.” She’d tried her best not to think about him all evening. But something he’d said to her wouldn’t stop niggling at her brain. “Can you believe he accused me of wanting to take a low-paying job—helping others, I might add—to atone for being born into wealth?”

  Her sister shook her head. “You don’t have anything to atone for. You do amazing things for the shelter. We’re all proud of you for it.”

  “Thanks. But Brent said because some might recognize me as my parents’ daughter, they won’t take me seriously.” She hated that the most. “And then he said if I really want to help the most people, I should use my fame to raise money rather than be a counselor who no one will listen to.”

  Dani frowned. “He said no one would listen to you?”

  “Well, no. But that’s what he meant.”

  “What he meant? You have prophetic powers too all of a sudden?” Dani grinned and got up from the chair she’d been sitting in and moved to the couch too.

  “No. He thinks I’m not owning up to a privilege that was handed to me on a silver platter. Like it’s so easy to not only be Annalisa’s daughter but Holden’s too? It’s a double whammy in the face. Dodging the press is a huge annoyance. Hardly a privilege.”

  “Sounds like Brent was simply pointing out the obvious. You have fame whether you like it or not.”

  “I realize that. But it’s annoying, not something I’d want to make worse by calling press conferences like Mom does.”

  “Mom tried to shield us from it by living in Albuquerque, but you went and moved smack dab into the middle of the spotlight. The press follows you because you’re
always dressed in Mom’s preapproved astronomically priced outfits, you drive a cool car, and you have fancy friends. You seem to live the life every twenty-six-year-old dreams of. And dreams are what sells a story. Not the good work you do. Move back home and be a counselor there if you don’t want all the attention in LA. Or use your fame as Brent suggested.”

  An arrow to her heart. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

  Her sister took her hand. “Of course, I understand. But you need to know that your father is part of the biggest scandal to hit Hollywood in years. He recruited a lot of celebrities to invest in Miller’s fraudulent corporations. It’s all coming out in bits and pieces, and each day, it gets worse. Brace yourself for the press when you get home, because it’s nasty. But maybe it could be an opportunity if you make it one. You’re so amazing with the paparazzi and more patient with them than I’ll ever be. I admire that about you.”

  Praise from her sister was nice, but she was more worried about her dad. “My father’s being painted as the villain?”

  Dani shrugged. “His PR team is spinning it as more duped by Miller. But the chances of him getting a commercial or a movie anytime soon aren’t so good.”

  How was her dad going to pay back all the money? “Wait. I just realized that the shelter might have to give back the money I gave them from my account!”

  “Then maybe you’ll have to get busy raising more money when you get home. I’m going to bed too. Night, Sara.”

  “Night.” Way to ruin her Christmas spirit. “Hey, Dani. Wait a second.” She got up and caught up with her sister. “Remember all the things you told me about in your dreams? The Jeep, the three cactuses and stuff?”

  Dani nodded. “What about them?”

  “I found all of them except the pay phone. What was that about?”

  Her sister’s face lit with a knowing grin. “That’s going to be interesting. The decision you make will affect the rest of your life. I hope you’ll choose to be happy. Sweet dreams, Sara.”

  She threw her hands up in exasperation and then headed for bed too. The Botellis and their damn dreams. They all got such perverse pleasure knowing stuff that she’d have to wait to find out. How could a call on a pay phone affect her life in such a big way? Well, it wouldn’t take much. The last week or so had pretty much left her life a disaster.

  Brent stood with his hands in his jean pockets in front of the blue wooden door to the beach house he hoped to own one day, debating with himself. Should he ask Zach the question that’d been bothering him for days or not? Did he want to hear the answer he was afraid he already knew?

  When he realized he was mirroring the exact stance in Eva’s dream, in the same location, he quickly took his hands out of his pockets and rang the bell. He didn’t believe in psychic crap. But it still didn’t make any sense how Eva had known about Zach’s house. There had to be a logical explanation. He just didn’t know what it was.

  When the door swung open, Zach appeared with a big smile. “There’s the man of the hour. Come have a beer on the back deck and tell me all about it.”

  Brent stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He followed Zach through the living room and to the rear deck. The waves crashing against the shore and the salty ocean breeze usually brought a sense of calm over him, but not today.

  Zach circled the outdoor bar. “Have a seat.” He grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one over. “Did Miller’s location come to you in a dream or something?”

  Dreams. Again. He was sick of thinking about strange dreams. “No. After you left the other night, I kept thinking about if I were Miller, where would I hide? I had a few hours of mindless cleaning to do, so I ran the possibilities through my head. Miller would have had a hard time leaving the country or maybe even the state with everyone, including the media, looking for him, so why not hide in plain sight until things cooled off?”

  “I taught you well. That one is overlooked far too often.” Zach tapped his bottle against Brent’s. “Good for you. Go on.”

  “It took me a while, but then I remembered a real estate contract Holden had in his house that I’d found. The contract stated that the home wasn’t set to close until next month, but the renters had vacated the property already. And guess who had the keys?”

  “Miller.”

  “Yep.” Brent took a drink from his bottle. “I drove out to the house and talked to the neighbors. The couple next door said they’d seen a truck deliver some of those fancy beds. The ones that you can choose the stiffness of the mattress and track sleep.”

  Zach’s grin grew wide. “You went to the mattress store, confirmed the delivery, and then called your boss?”

  “Yeah. They got permission to look into the database that records sleep info for people’s apps and then confirmed all the beds were slept on the previous night. Later that evening, we waited until all the men were tucked in and snoozing, because the beds can tell when someone is asleep, and then a team went in to extract them. But Miller and his men were heavily armed. They intended to go down with a fight, and they did. They were all killed. Later, when the lab got ahold of their electronics, they showed Miller and his top henchmen were arranging for fake passports to leave the country. It was just dumb luck we got to them before they got their paperwork.”

  Zach said, “More like smart luck. They give you your badge back after all that?”

  “Nope.” Brent picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Still being punished for insubordination. But that’s okay. I didn’t do it to get my badge back. I found him to protect Sara.”

  A corner of Zach’s mouth twitched. “No matter the reason, you did good, son. I’m proud of you.”

  Brent’s heart swelled embarrassingly at the praise. He wasn’t used to it. “Thanks. But talking about my case wasn’t why I came today. I wanted to ask you which type of student you had me pegged as?”

  “Which do you think you were?” Zach grabbed a bag of potato chips from under the bar and ripped it open. He leaned the bag Brent’s way.

  After taking a handful, he said, “I initially thought the lone wolf.”

  “But then you went and solved a case for a woman instead of for your badge. So now which do you think you are?”

  Dammit. He hated how Zach always saw right through him. “A runner?”

  Zach grinned and tapped his nose. “It takes one to know one. That’s why I wanted to give you a good deal on this house. To give you roots. And I hoped it’d give you a goal to work toward. And when you reached it, as I’ve never doubted you will, I hope you’ll fill this house with a wife and some kids. And just be happy for a change. Because these beautiful old bones have never housed a happy family.”

  That was what Zach must’ve been running from. “What do you think I’m running from?”

  “You’re the only one who knows for sure, but if I had to guess, you’re afraid to be happy. Like if you allow yourself to feel happy, it’ll hurt ten times worse when someone or something comes along and steals it from you. So rather than pursuing it, you avoid it. Like people who love dogs, but after losing one, won’t get another because of the future heartbreak when the new one will inevitably die. Me? I’d rather enjoy the new dog for as long as I can and be grateful for it.”

  “And yet, you don’t have a dog.”

  “Right. Like I said, takes one to know one. Don’t wait until you’re old to figure all this crap out like I did. Go get Sara back.”

  “I blew it with her.”

  “Agreed. I made that same mistake once and still regret it. But what hurt worse? Losing your badge or losing Sara?”

  “Sara.” He’d been in a living hell ever since he’d seen Sara last. But he didn’t know how to fix things with her. He’d done the right thing in the end. But she’d made it clear she’d never forgive him for it. And he’d been so hurt by her betrayal that he’d said some hurtful things that hadn’t been any of his business.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

>   Brent threw their empty bottles away then grabbed two more from the fridge. “Don’t know. She pretty much hates me right now. Says I love my job more than her. And that I’m afraid to live the best life that I can.”

  “What does ‘afraid to live your best life’ even mean?” Zach circled the bar and sat on a barstool too.

  “She thinks I’m settling by staying with the FBI for the benefits. That I should find a job that makes me happy to go to work each day. Who’s happy to go to work every day? No one I know.”

  “Yeah. That’s a tall order. But after cracking a case no one else could, it’s doubtful they’ll ever let you out of your cubical again. You’re going to be the go to numbers man, my friend. Can you live with that for thirty more years?”

  Can I?

  Zach held up a finger. “Wait. Before you answer, are you more afraid of dying or being broke?”

  “Being broke, hands down. Once you’re dead, it’s only hard on the ones who loved you. And there aren’t very many of those in my case.”

  “Morbid, but okay, then let’s pretend that I gifted my house to you and gave you one of my trust funds worth millions. You’d be set for life. If that were to happen, would you still work for the FBI?”

  He laughed. “That’s exactly what you did.”

  “We’re not talking about me. I don’t have a woman I need to win back. And I’m not as dense as you. Answer the question.” Zach grabbed another handful of chips and chomped them down.

  “How do I know? Is there a point to this? And could you get to it before I’m as old as you, please?”

  “My point is that apologizing to Sara obviously won’t work. Actions speak louder than words. The only way to get her back and make my house happy too is to change your actions going forward. Show Sara you’re not obsessed with money and your job and that you trust in your abilities enough to throw caution to the wind for a change. Live your best life.”

  “My best life is a financially secure one.”

  “And one with Sara in it.”

  “Yeah.” She made him happy. That was for sure.