“That’s adorable,” Bronwyn said, standing on tiptoe in her bare feet to kiss Jaq. “I can picture you as a kid in the summer with your nose buried in a honeysuckle thicket.”
“That’s about right.” Jaq smiled.
“What else do I smell? Is that lavender?”
Jaq led her around the corner from where they’d come in to the east wall, where dozens of terra-cotta pots were mounted between pallet slats on the walls. Thyme and oregano fell over the sides, and lavender was dotted among the herbs, surrounded by sweet basil, lemongrass, cilantro, and spearmint.
“It’s getting a bit late in the season for these, but apparently when it gets too cold they move the pots to the greenhouse in the back.” Jaq rounded the next corner to the wall opposite the entrance. A small greenhouse, just big enough for two or three people to stand in, sat there in the last of the fading light.
“I love this,” Bronwyn said, looking around. “I never would have guessed it’s here, but when you open the rooftop door suddenly it’s like walking out into an English country garden.”
Jaq glanced back around the side of the wall, then led Bronwyn between it and the greenhouse, pressing her hard against the stone wall. It was one of those times Jaq was almost rough, when she pushed Bronwyn against the wall with a sudden urgency, as if she couldn’t breathe unless every inch of her body touched hers. The first time, Bronwyn had tensed until she realized Jaq had wrapped her hands around the back of her head, taking the impact with her arm as they hit the wall.
Jaq buried her face in Bronwyn’s neck, her mouth warm and insistent. “There’s only so long I can go without kissing you, Bella.”
Bronwyn melted into her arms, instantly wet when she felt Jaq’s thigh between hers. Jaq slid her hand around Bronwyn’s neck, thumb holding her chin up to let her bite gently down her neck and across her shoulder, then bring Bronwyn’s mouth back to her hers. Bronwyn pressed into her, untucking Jaq’s shirt and sliding her hands under it and around her waist.
That’s when she felt it. She leaned back, her hand falling between their bodies, looking up at Jaq.
“I’m strapped on, Bella,” Jaq said, her eyes heavy with desire. “But I don’t have to be. Just tell me what you want.”
Bronwyn never dropped her eyes, just loosened her belt, unfastening the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. Jaq unzipped her own trousers and took Bronwyn’s hand, wrapped it around the length of the shaft, then held her hand over Bronwyn’s, her breath deep and hard. Bronwyn leaned her head against Jaq’s chest, sliding her fingers slowly down the shaft and back up, memorizing the feel of it, still warm from Jaq’s body. Jaq watched her, looking for any sign it was too much, but Bronwyn just looked up at her, then slid her jeans down her hips and off. Jaq dropped to her knees, sliding her panties down and folding them into the pocket of her jacket. She sank her mouth into the heat of her, working Bronwyn’s clit, holding her hips hard, her thumbs pressed just inside her hipbones. She knew something about that spot took her breath away; it had since Jaq found it the first time in her bed at Stratford, right before Bronwyn arched her hips hard and came into her mouth, her thighs trembling and tight around Jaq’s face.
Jaq stood and picked Bronwyn up easily, wrapping her legs around her waist. She held her against the wall, Bronwyn’s fingers light and hesitant at the back of her neck.
“You have to ask me for it if you want it, baby.”
Bronwyn’s tongue slid over hers, whispering please into her mouth as Jaq guided the tip into her then dropped her body down just enough to slide the rest of the way inside her. Bronwyn moaned, arching her back and tightening her legs around Jaq’s waist. Jaq’s hands slid to her ass, pulling her hard onto the shaft, then letting her go only to pull her back again, over and over, until Bronwyn’s nails dug into her shoulders.
Jaq tipped her hips forward, pulling Bronwyn’s body closer into the smooth front of the harness, holding her there and grinding it into her clit as she thrust deeper inside her. She held her tight against her hips, stayed deep, kept her clit slicked against the leather harness, until Bronwyn arched her back and cried out, her hands behind her flat against the wall, spread and tight, Jaq’s still gripping her ass, trying like fuck not to come just watching her.
****
Eventually they found Bronwyn’s clothes and made it back to the flat, where the groceries had been delivered to the door.
“I’m going to guess since I can see lettuce on the top that the box has something to do with you?”
“Good guess, Detective Bailey,” she teased. “Hungry yet?”
“Oh my God,” Jaq said. “I was hoping you were going to ask that. I’m starving.”
Jaq picked up the box and unlocked the door, holding it open for Bronwyn.
“I might fancy a shower before I start dinner,” she said. “Do you have time to put those away for me?”
“I’m on it,” Jaq said, pulling a pint of cream out of the box and looking at it. “What are you making?”
“Just spaghetti bolognese with béchamel; it’s really quick to put together,” she said as she pulled the pencil out of the twist of hair at the back of her head and headed for the bathroom.
Jaq rounded the corner from the kitchen and pulled her close before she went further, resting her forehead on Bronwyn’s. It was a moment before she spoke.
“No one has ever cooked for me like you do.”
Bronwyn kissed her cheek and held her face to hers.
The water was hot almost instantly when Bronwyn turned it on and she stepped in, letting it run over her face and shoulders. Every day, it was harder to think about going home to her empty house. She loved everything about being here with her. Jaq’s hungry little face always made her laugh, she loved how all she had to do was walk into the kitchen in the morning and a mug of steaming coffee appeared in her hand, and Christ, the sex. The explosive sex that took her breath away every time she thought about it, erasing the memory of anyone she’d ever known before Jaq.
She pulled on her silk shorts and one of Jaq’s hoodies after her shower and pressed the water from her hair with a towel. She needed to start the mirepoix for the sauce and leave it to simmer in some stock before she went back to dry her hair.
As she rounded the corner from the hall, Jaq was standing by the box the groceries had been in.
“Come here, baby.”
Bronwyn’s stomach dropped. She knew by now when Jaq was worried, and this was it.
“What’s wrong?”
Jaq nodded at the box and Bronwyn looked inside; there was a small black envelope lying at the bottom with her name on the front, typed on a small piece of white paper.
“Jesus.”
“I was hoping you’d know what that is?” Jaq studied her face.
“No idea.” But she did know, the second she saw it. It was Ian’s stationary.
Jaq pulled on a pair of latex gloves from the counter. “Do I have your permission to open it? I won’t read anything in it; I just need to make sure there’s nothing hazardous inside.”
Bronwyn nodded and Jaq slid her finger under the seal that popped open easily. There was no note inside, but Bronwyn could tell from Jaq’s face that whatever it was wasn’t good. Jaq held up her engagement ring.
“Fuck,” Bronwyn said, sinking back against the counter. “How does he know where I am?”
Jaq just shook her head. “The only people that know where I live wouldn’t give that information to anyone, like Moira and your father.” She paused. “Does your mother know where you are?”
“I don’t think so; she’d have no reason to think I’m not still at the house, and even if she did, there’s no way Dad would tell her anything.” She paused, suddenly remembering what her dad had told her that morning. “She’s on an extended stay at a spa in the Alps for a couple months, anyway.”
Jaq looked up. “She’s what?”
“That’s British for rehab.”
She smiled. “Okay, do you remember
where you left it in the house?”
“I left it on the hall table in an envelope. If he came back into the house, I wanted him to see it, and that was the only place I was sure he’d see it as he came in. I went back to the house when you were at work and left it there.”
Jaq dropped the ring back into the envelope and sighed, setting it on the counter.
****
“Sorry to call you so early,” Jaq said, opening the door for Terry the next morning. “I was hoping to catch you on the way to the office.” She looked down then and tried not to laugh. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers.”
“They’re for Bronwyn, smart ass,” he said. “Our anniversary date was amazing. The wife is still thanking me.”
“Stop right there. I don’t want any details,” Jaq said, holding up one hand and taking the bright yellow roses wrapped in brown paper with the other. “It’s bad enough that people actually have heterosexual sex, I don’t want to hear about it.”
Terry laughed, giving Jaq’s shoulder a playful shove as he came in. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
He looked around suddenly, remembering why he was there. “What did you need to show me, by the way?”
Jaq pulled on a glove and held up the envelope. “This arrived last night in the bottom of a grocery delivery box.” She shook the ring out into her hand. “It’s Bronwyn’s engagement ring.”
Terry looked at it and then at Jaq. “Let me guess; it was in the house.”
“Bingo.”
He leaned back against the counter. “I got your message about the light on in the attic as well. I went over every bit of that footage myself afterwards. There’s no one on it. And the light is off now.”
“What the hell?”
“I have no idea,” Terry said, “But I do know that bastard is playing with us. What bothers me is that it’s clearly aimed at Bronwyn and I feel like it’s going to get worse.”
“What do we do at this point?’
“There’s not a lot we can do until he gets sloppy somehow,” Terry said, “Except bust our asses to stay ahead of him or catch him with the contents of the closet. Preferably both.”
Jaq tapped her thumb on the counter, her face set. “I have a bad feeling.”
“You and me both. We need to step up our game here.”
Jaq looked toward the hall when she heard a door open, then poured coffee into a cup on the counter with sugar and milk already in it. She’d just stirred it when Bronwyn rounded the corner, barefoot and rubbing her eyes. She was wearing the shirt Jaq had worn to the office the previous day. It was wrinkled and buttoned wrong not quite halfway up, falling off one shoulder. She took the steaming mug from Jaq’s hand and kissed her cheek, then turned and walked back down the hall to the bedroom.
“Sorry about that.” Jaq smiled. “She didn’t even see you.”
“Bloody hell,” Terry said, shaking his head and looking at the floor, not even trying not to smile. “I’m not even going to comment on that.”
“You’re telling me,” Jaq said, putting the coffee pot back on the counter. “It’s been difficult to get work done with her here, to say the least.”
“Spare me, mate.” Terry laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’m finding it difficult to work up any pity over here.” He pulled on a glove from his pocket and picked up the envelope. “Let’s get to the office and see what forensics can lift from this.”
****
It was a long day from that point. There was nothing on the tapes, no forensics on the envelope, and no way to connect Ian to anything. They knew where he was, but unless they could pin something on him, it was useless to pick him up. They might as well just haul him in just to tell him that he’d won. The ring was a statement, about not only the broken engagement, but also that Ian knew she was at Jaq’s flat, which clearly he could reach anytime with no problem. Ian was putting himself in a position of power. It was just a matter of time before he used it.
Chapter Fourteen
Hello, love, I think it’s about time we talked, don’t you?” Ian’s voice was even and calm, as if he was speaking to a child. “Let’s have one last meal at the house together. I’ll make your favorite curry, and we’ll put this whole ugly situation behind us.” He paused, then went on. “I’ll expect you at seven p.m. Friday evening.”
Then, nothing. His phone clicked off, and the message on Bronwyn’s voice mail ended. She’d picked it up to call Moira when she saw that he’d called; she hadn’t even heard it ring.
“Hi, Terry, I asked security to call your secretary for clearance; do you have a moment to talk?” Bronwyn said as she stuck her head into Terry’s office early that evening, just as he was furiously trying to shake the sticky side of a nicotine patch off the tips of his fingers. “Do you have a moment?”
“Absolutely,” Terry said.
Bronwyn slid into one of the chairs across from his desk and took the patch off his fingers, pulling the other half of the backing off easily. Terry stuck out his arm, and she smoothed it on, tossing the paper into the trash. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way; they were gorgeous.”
“Do we need to get Jaq down here?”
The look on her face told him it wasn’t good news. She nodded as he picked up his phone and asked his secretary to find Jaq.
“You’re an angel for setting up that dinner at Jamie’s restaurant.” Terry leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Not only did you save my ass, but he took the time to eat dessert with us at our table and chatted with my wife about foodie stuff until the restaurant closed. He sent her home with all the recipes he used written out by hand. She’s still smiling.”
“I’d love to meet her someday,” Bronwyn said. “Jaq told me she’s a sweetheart.”
“She is,” Terry said, looking at the family picture on his desk. “I completely don’t deserve her.”
Jaq rounded the corner, smiling when she saw Bronwyn. The smile faded when she saw her phone in the center of Terry’s desk.
“Great,” Jaq said, sinking down into the chair beside Bronwyn and unbuttoning her shirt at the collar. “Let me guess, Ian’s feeling chatty?”
Bronwyn pushed the button and played the recording. Jaq and Terry were silent as it finished, each of them looking at the other. Then Bronwyn jumped as Terry’s office phone rang. He was still looking at Jaq when he went to pick it up.
“What tells me this isn’t good news?”
He listened for what seemed like forever, then rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “You’re fucking kidding me with this, right?”
He clicked the phone over to the speaker and put down the receiver, walking over to shut the door of his office.
“No, sir, I’m not.” The male voice on the other end of the line hesitated. “We’ve had eyes on and in that house since this started. The only person in there was the owner, so I can’t tell you how it happened, but I just had an officer confirm it. The closet in the Charles residence is empty.”
Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath, and Terry watched the blood drain from her face as he hung up the phone.”
“How could that happen?” Jaq looked like someone had punched her in the gut. “So we have nothing on him now?”
Terry shook his head and Jaq saw he was angry. His face flamed to red in a matter of seconds when he was upset, even if he was controlled and calm on the outside.
“Terry,” Jaq said, “Do you have those pictures we took inside the closet?”
He nodded, shuffling the papers around on his desk until he found the small manila folder he’d put them in. Jaq pulled them out and spread them on the table, looking at each carefully.
“That attic is wired with more cameras than the White House,” she said, tapping one of the pictures with her fingers. “Yet nothing showed up on any of the tapes and we know Ian’s been in there because he got Bronwyn’s ring.”
Terry and Bronwyn sat silent, looking at Jaq. Jaq pushed one picture to the center of the desk and they leaned in towards it.
Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath. “The skylight.”
Terry looked up at her. “What? What skylight?”
“There used to be two skylights in the attic roof, one on either side before that space was used for storage. Dad always worried about them leaking so he had them both removed and shingled over years ago and just patched the inside ceiling with drywall.”
All three of them looked down at the barely visible small square, just wide enough for a person’s shoulders, just behind where they’d been standing looking at the shelves. It was only visible in one photo, the last photo they took before they locked everything back up. It was a wide shot of the entire closet interior from just inside the door. Terry and Jaq hadn’t seen it because it was behind them, on the portion of the ceiling opposite the shelves.
“So he just dropped himself through the ceiling from the roof and never had to set foot in the attic at all?”
“Yep,” Jaq said, raking her hand through her hair. “He bypassed every one of the cameras.”
All three of them sat in silence, staring at the photo.
“Wait,” Bronwyn said finally, tapping her nails on the arm of her chair. “We may not have anything on him at this point, but we can get it.”
She looked at her phone lying on Terry’s desk. Jaq and Terry both shook their heads at the same time.
“Hell no,” Terry said. “I’m not sending you in there with that bastard. He’ll have a gun with him for sure, and we won’t be able to get in there fast enough if he decides to use it.”
Jaq was still shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
Bronwyn looked at Terry. “Are we sure he even knows you’re onto him about the cocaine?”
“No, but—”
“Then it’s possible he has no idea that’s even a factor and he just wants to talk to me about my relationship with Jaq. But if I can get him to talk about the coke, you’ve got your evidence.”
“I don’t care, Bella,” Jaq said. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
London Page 17