“Mandy, they’re ready for you over there.” She met the blonde’s nervous look with what she hoped was a reassuring gaze.
“Okay. It was nice talking to you,” Mandy said to Mr. Anderson, then headed across the room, her half-finished drink in hand.
“I guess you make…I guess you give…” Brielle paused to find the correct phrase as she held Jack’s gaze. “You’re a good bartender.”
“Yeah, he must be. That’s Mandy’s second one,” Don said with a grin.
Brielle gulped her wine and ordered her funny bone not to respond. It didn’t listen. With her emotions and anxiety making her silly, she smiled at Jack and opened her mouth.
“Don’t say it, Brielle,” he warned, blue eyes torn between amusement and annoyance.
That made it worse. Her lips burned to speak. Hoping a change of subject would be the cure, she sipped her wine and turned to his father. “So, did my uncle tell you anything to pass on to me?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.” Don set his glass down to pull a notepad from the inside of his jacket pocket. “Franco said the results on the fingerprint you lifted from the monitor were his.”
She shook her head in disgust. “Shoot. We never catch a break. What about the fingerprint on my dresser?”
Mr. Anderson’s eyebrows furrowed as he studied his notes. “That turned out to be…Carla’s.”
Brielle sighed. “That’s not surprising since she was sent up there to get my bathing suit the other day.”
“What’s going on? When did you get these prints?” Jack’s gaze bounced between them.
“While you were in Aspen, enjoying the snow,” Brielle replied. “The crew and I went through both mansions—found a few prints, but nothing else.” She leaned her hip against the bar and turned to his father. “What about the audio feed? Did Uncle Franco get that cleaned up?”
Jack frowned. “Feed from what?”
“From the bugs I planted on the yacht,” she said, keeping emotion from her voice. “There were some questionable noises in the lounge earlier on that day we played the card game, but I couldn’t make it out.”
His chin lifted and a glimmer of admiration filled his eyes. Her heart tripped. She’d gotten used to the guarded look. What did she do with this one? They stared at each other a moment before his gaze lowered to his drink.
“Franco said to tell you it was Matthew.” Don’s voice grabbed her attention. “And that the Jet Ski was clean.” He glanced at the notepad, then put it away. “That’s it.”
“Wonderful. Nothing.” She finished her wine. Why did they keep hitting these dead ends? She placed her glass on the bar by Jack’s arm. “Back to square one.”
“This is getting out of hand,” he said, refilling her glass. “I’ll be glad when this damn show is over. Then I can do some straight work and not have to stop to please producers.”
She held her glass up in a mock toast. “I heard that. Monday can’t come soon enough.” Fighting a sigh, she sipped her wine, then glanced at Jack and blinked. His intense stare dried her mouth. He looked as if he…as if he didn’t want to see her go.
Hope woke the butterflies in her belly.
“So, Brielle, were you bored while we were in Aspen?” Matthew asked from behind.
She watched Jack’s guarded expression slip back into place and her pulse returned to normal. His little reveal did lessen the tightness in her chest, though. Breathing easier, she turned to Matthew and found him standing behind her with his mother and Mandy on each arm.
“Yes, I was bored out of my skull,” she lied through a smile.
“Ah, poor thing. What did you do?” he asked, depositing his mother at his father’s side while keeping Mandy’s hand firmly on his arm.
“I watched a lot of videos,” she replied with a grin. Way too much video. She took another sip of her wine.
Mandy’s blue eyes rounded. “Did you watch Jack’s pirate movie?”
The wine burned a new path down Brielle’s throat. She coughed, and after regaining the ability to speak, glanced at Jack. “I wasn’t aware he was in one.”
“Yeah, I made several. Maybe you’ve heard of them?” He smiled, refilling his mother’s glass. “Jack the Shipper, Jack’s Revenge, and my personal favorite, The Empire Strikes Jack.”
They all laughed except for Mandy. Her blue eyes grew even wider. “I didn’t know you made three? Why didn’t someone tell me? Danni said you didn’t make any.”
Sobering, they stared at each other, silently deciding who should clue the girl in when Bill spoke up from the cluster of production people off camera.
“It’s time for dinner,” he announced, waiting for them to move.
Brielle grabbed her purse from the bar and took Matthew’s offered arm as he escorted her and Mandy from the room. Jack and his parents followed. Close. Real close. A slow burn tingled down her spine. Dammit. Why did he have to be so intoxicating? Need and longing combusted, spreading like wildfire through her body, until cold reality doused the newfound flames. She knew better than to read anything into his non-hostile behavior. They had a lot to talk about before heat came into play. If ever. But, heaven help her, she want to play.
“If you’ll have a seat, the food will be brought out shortly,” Bill told them before settling out of view.
Candlelight set a romantic mood, flickering from one of the smaller oval tables, adorned with white linen and fresh roses. Matthew walked them to that table.
“I hope everyone’s hungry.”
He pulled out one of the six chairs for Mandy while Jack pulled out one for her across from the blonde and next to his mother.
Careful not to brush any part of him, Brielle settled in her seat, and when she glanced up to thank him, she caught another of his unguarded expressions.
Regret.
She blinked, not expecting to see that emotion up close. Or at all. They stared at each other for a long beat. And when he opened his mouth as if to say something, her pulse kicked up, pounding heavily in her ears. But then he closed his mouth again, and the hooded gaze slipping into place blew her fluttering heart right into a brick wall. Not unlike the size of Rodriguez.
Fighting an unexpected sting of tears, she set her purse next to Sophia’s on the table and watched Jack take his seat between his parents. Emotions bubbled into a tremor, and she hid her trembling under the action of shaking out her napkin before placing it on her lap.
Damn Jack and his mixed signals.
She wondered briefly if she could feign a headache to get out of dinner. Feign? She rubbed her temple and grimaced. There’d be no feigning. Her head really did ache.
Whatever happened to Brielle Chapman, the unruffled professional? She glanced at Jack and swallowed. Seems this show produced a former Ranger capable of knocking the no-nonsense out of her.
Several white-jacketed servers carrying covered dishes entered through the swinging kitchen door. Their arrival eased her ache. At least now she had something else to concentrate on.
“Mmm, smells good.” Mandy smiled at the men.
The aroma of chicken filled Brielle’s nostrils as a server placed hers and Sophia’s dishes on the table and, with a flourish, lifted their lids to reveal chicken cordon bleu…with a topping of live frog.
The startled server dropped the lids and stepped back while Brielle and Sophia jumped to their feet.
“Ack,” Mandy screamed, spilling her drink as she scurried from the table. “Ah, great. Now I have to go wash this off.”
“What’s going on here?” Don frowned, looking at the table of frogs.
“I doubt it’s a new delicacy.” Brielle lunged forward and caught the airborne amphibian sailing toward Sophia’s slight frame. She held the frog up to look into his bulging eyes. “At least, not in this state.”
“Eew.” Sophia grimaced, backing further from the table.
“Brielle, what are you doing?” Jack rushed to her, face full of concern. “They may be poisonous,”
Wa
rmed by that sentiment, she smiled. “Relax, Jack. They’re just common tree frogs.” Removing the roses from the centerpiece with one hand, she dropped the creature inside. “They’re harmless. In fact, we’re more harm to them.” She caught two more, marveling at their slick feel as she released them into the vase. “The oils on our skin aren’t good for them. Kind of like that lotion to Carla’s snake.”
“How do you know all this?” Matthew asked, managing to smile and frown at the same time.
“I worked at Bob’s Reptile Land after school and on weekends,” she replied and bent to save another frog from the perils of the floor.
That job hadn’t crossed her mind in years. Creatures like these had filled the void after she’d lost her parents. They needed her, depended on her, and Brielle thrived on their reliance. It instilled her insatiable need to help people.
“Is there anything that scares you?” Jack asked quietly, heat from his hand seeping into hers as they brushed while he placed the remaining two frogs in the vase.
She straightened and smiled. “Well, had these been spiders, not even a crow bar would’ve pried me from that chandelier.” She pointed to the elaborate crystal formation hanging above them.
“I see.”
He returned her smile, and a little thing called hope flickered to life. She stared at him, willing him to say something, yet half afraid to hear the words.
“Well, that’s all of them,” Matthew said, breaking the spell. “I wonder how they got there.”
Jack blinked. “Good question,” he said, then transferred his gaze to the nearest server. “Explain to me what the hell happened to dinner.” He folded his arms.
“I…I…don’t know,” the man stammered. “I was just told to take a plate and serve it.”
She glanced around the room. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson stood talking. The production crew scratched their heads and the servers appeared confused.
Matthew turned to the kitchen. “Where’s the cook? I’d like a word with him.”
“Me, too.” Jack’s face darkened.
“What’s all the commotion?” The chef rushed into the room, then stopped dead at the sight of his unfinished dishes and frogs swimming in the table’s centerpiece. “My meal! What happened to my meal?” he cried, grabbing his head as he stepped toward the table, disbelief slacking his jaw.
Jack rounded on him. “You tell me. Any idea how your meal managed to hop off the plate?”
“No. I prepared chicken cordon bleu not frogs-a-la-hopping.” The portly man glowered. “This is a travesty! The entrées were fine when I covered the plates and placed them on the counter for the servers to bring in.”
Jack shook his head and sighed. “You’d better show me where.”
He turned toward the swinging kitchen door, but didn’t get far as Rodriguez rushed in from the hall, his expression bleak.
“Wait,” his right hand man insisted, his face impassive, but there was an undercurrent of urgency to his tone. “You need to see this, sir.”
Brielle’s heart hit the roof of her mouth. Now what? She rushed out behind them into the hall, then stopped dead.
“Shit!” Breath hissed through Jack’s teeth.
A black, strapless Jimmy Choo heel lay next to an overturned plant. Brielle drew in a deep breath and approached the scene. No blood, no other signs of a struggle except for a discarded shoe and knocked-over ficus.
“That’s Mandy’s shoe,” Matthew said from behind. “Where is she?”
Brielle turned and watched his gaze dart around the foyer. For the first time since she’d met him, Matthew’s brown eyes held no trace of amusement. Apprehension and fear darkened the normally sparkling depths. Her heart squeezed. She wished her gut had a happy answer.
Sophia came up from behind and placed a hand on his arm. “I remember she’d spilled her drink. She’s probably in the bathroom washing it off.”
Matthew frowned. “Without her shoe?” He shook his head and stepped toward the bathroom.
But Brielle knew the woman wasn’t there. “Don’t bother,” she said, hating this part of the job.
Matthew stopped and turned to her, his brows knitted together. “Why not?”
All eyes focused on Brielle.
“Because of this.” She toed a speck of yellow peeping from under the mound of spilled potting soil.
Matthew paled and stumbled back. “Not another threat.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Jack clenched his fist and stepped closer. “The frogs were a distraction.” His angry expression turned puzzled. “But how did the perpetrator know Mandy would come out here?”
“Distraction? You mean she was grabbed?” Matthew rounded on Jack, his eyes wild. “By whom? Who grabbed her?”
“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t even know if she was grabbed.” Jack placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and spoke calmly. “Let me do my job, and I’ll find out.”
Not wanting to intrude on the brothers, but knowing time was of the essence, Brielle cleared her throat. “Maybe the note will shed some light.”
“Yes, that’s right. Let’s see what the freak has to say.” Thin-lipped, Matthew bent down.
Jack, Brielle and Rodriguez all tried to stop him. “No, Matthew! Don’t!” They cried, but it was too late. He’d already tainted the evidence by grabbing the note. He stood, and with the flick of his wrist, dirt fell to the floor while the paper unfolded.
Roses are red and so is her dress, if you want Mandy back, then it’s time to confess.
Chapter Nineteen
Brielle had long ago given up on the notes making sense. The only constant was that they got weirder every time.
“Confess? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack turned to Matthew, eyes narrowed beneath a troubled brow. “Is there something you need to share?”
“No!” Matthew shook his head, thrusting a hand through his hair, shoving the note at Jack. “I don’t know what this means. He’s nuts!”
“Or she,” Jack stated, glancing from the yellow paper to the foyer now filled with production crew. “Okay, this circus is hereby canceled. Everyone in the dining room. Now!”
Brielle didn’t waste any time. She twisted around and rushed back into the room. They needed to get moving, and she needed to extract the gun from her purse. This investigation just took a definite turn. It had gone from bothersome to dangerous in the drop of a shoe. She reached the table and stopped dead.
It was gone.
Oh God. No. Nonononono. It can’t be gone. Her heart was back to beating outside her chest again as she glanced frantically around the room.
Mandy’s Prada, Sophia’s Dooney and Bourke, and a frog-filled vase sat on the table…but no sign of Brielle’s gun-concealing purse. Dammit!
Don’t panic, she told herself, and glanced around again as people filed into the room. Her gaze shot to the kitchen door. Maybe the staff moved it when they cleared the plates from the table.
“Rodriguez, secure the building.”
She heard Jack bark while her eyes searched the floor for the beaded clutch. Maybe it had fallen.
“Yes, sir.”
“Send someone to the security room to check the cameras for Mandy. I want two men to stay here and guard this room; the rest will help search the house.” Jack spun around to include the production crew in his gaze. “No one leaves.”
Brielle swallowed, wondering how in the world she was going to tell Jack about her gun. This created a dangerous complication.
“I’m going with you,” Matthew stated, crossing his arms over his chest in an uncharacteristic show of defiance.
Her mouth opened, but Jack answered first. “No, you’re not. You stay with the group under guard.” Jack narrowed a hard gaze on his brother. “That’s an order. We don’t know what we’re dealing with other than someone’s obsessed with you.”
Matthew clenched his fists. “But I want to help find Mandy. Look, Jack, Brielle, I know I’m not qualified, but that girl means a lot to me, and if an
ything has happened to her because of me—”
“Don’t,” Brielle cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t even go down that road, Matthew. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me?”
He gave a small nod and studied his shoes.
“Listen to your brother. The sooner you’re safe, the sooner we can start searching.”
She met Jack’s gaze and held it, along with her breath. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to deny her permission to search, but he apparently realized he needed all the help he could get and nodded. She just hoped he felt that way when she told him about her missing gun.
“All right.” Matthew let out a breath and grasped Jack’s shoulder. “Just, please find her.”
“We will.” The confidence in Jack’s voice even made a believer out of Brielle, and she knew their chances were only as good as the culprit would allow.
Eager to find answers, they turned, but before they reached the kitchen door, Bill intercepted them.
“Look, Jack, I understand you’re doing your job, but you have to understand, I need to do mine, too.”
“No.”
“Yes. Now, hear me out.” Bill’s hands shot up in a stop position as Jack advanced. “Just take one cameraman with you, just one.”
“No…Jesus, Bill. I don’t have time to babysit your crew. We’ve got a girl missing, here,” Jack snapped, clenching his fists. “I don’t give a—”
“Jack.” Brielle stepped between them, not to save Bill, but to stop Jack from finishing his sentence. She completely agreed with him, but had a thought. “We’ll take one. We’ll take Phil.”
“But—”
She turned to Jack and leveled him a look. “You never know what they may catch.” And she didn’t trust that cameraman. Better to have him near to keep an eye on him…and far away from Matthew.
She Does Know Jack Page 28