by Lori Foster
Therman did indeed know the brothers and dismissed them as harmless. He claimed they were peculiar but not psychopathic, despite the weird presentation. Jack decided to withhold judgment until he toured their basement.
But first... “You mentioned a job?”
“They’re stalling.” Ronnie grabbed a third cookie. “That’s what they do when they know I won’t like it.”
A flush bloomed on Drake’s pale cheeks. “It’s true, you might grumble.”
“You know how you love to grumble, Ronnie.” Drew turned to Jack, saying with dead-seriousness, “She’s very good at it.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Ronnie ignored that. “Details?”
“Marge called. She has a bargain for us.”
Disgusted, Jack briefly closed his eyes.
But Ronnie asked, “What’s she selling now?”
“A necklace.” Drew nodded. “That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Eyeing them both, she sipped her coffee. “What’s the significance?”
The brothers shared a look. It was Drake who cleared his throat. “Do you remember the story in the news about the woman who was used as bait to catch men?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
Jack said, “Whoa. What’s this?”
Instantly more animated, Drew picked up the tale. “She would sit on the side of the road, appearing abused and lost, but when men would stop to help her, her boyfriend would attack.”
“She wasn’t really beat up,” Ronnie explained. “Crazy broad was in on it with her nut sweetie. They hurt a few men, killed another, but one guy that they kept locked up for a week finally got away. He led the cops back to where they lived.”
Jesus. “What does the necklace have to do with it?”
“It was hers.” Drake touched his own throat. “Her name was Ginny Musak and the necklace belonged to her. The man wrestled with her when she came into his cell to feed him. He ended up with the necklace in his fist.”
“And this necklace is odd, how?” It sounded more like something Therman would want, since it was linked with a crime.
“It’s a little glass vial, and it held some of her boyfriend’s blood.”
“Jesus.” Never, not in a million years would Jack understand the fascination. He looked at Ronnie, but she just quirked her mouth and waited to see what he would say.
Knowing she wanted to take the job, he resigned himself to it. “When?”
“Next Friday, early evening.” Drew searched his face, anxiously hoping for agreement. “Will that be a problem?”
“No problem,” Ronnie said, but then tacked on, “As long as Jack’s okay with it.”
He could almost hear the brothers’ collective shock. Deferring to him was a huge concession on her part. Just yesterday she’d have told him what she was doing, and he could have gone along or not. It felt like a major milestone.
“Marge isn’t holding a grudge?” He seriously didn’t want to expose Ronnie—or hell, himself—to that again.
“Not at all,” Drake assured him. “I hesitated also, but she swore she’s interested in making money, nothing else.”
Jack turned to Ronnie. “You believe her?”
“She does like her green.”
“Fine.” Jack finished off his coffee. “Now, how about you take me on a tour? I’d like to see what happens with the...items you collect.”
Ronnie stood with a grin. “Oh, by all means, let me lead the way.” She gestured for the kitchen. “You’re in for a treat.”
Behind him, the brothers beamed in excitement.
Fucking crazy, that’s what they were.
But again, he’d trust Ronnie, and if anything, she seemed fond of them.
So how bad could they be?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RONNIE HAD TO ADMIT, it was nice having some time off. In the week since they’d seen the twins, her worry had melted away. Nothing else happened to put her on guard.
But plenty happened to nourish that scary, elusive hope.
Sleeping with Jack every night, having nearly nonstop sex—usually at least twice a day—sharing meals and the shower...the whole relationship thing worked better for her than she’d ever imagined.
The sex aspect alone was enough to win her over. So far, Jack hadn’t given her a chance to do all the things to him that she wanted, mostly because he spent so much time doing things to her, and during those times, she couldn’t think straight. He’d already shown her a dozen different ways to enjoy herself. And oh, she did.
But her favorite, by far, remained good old missionary, face-to-face with Jack, seeing every nuance of his release, watching his thick lashes lower and the clench of his jaw, feeling the tension coil in his big body until his release came in a vibrating groan. She shivered just thinking about it.
The way he looked at her in those moments made her feel more connected to him, as if she were the only woman in existence. It was a link she hadn’t known was missing from her life, and now that she did, she dreaded the day she’d lose it.
While she waited for more work from the brothers, she got to show off her skill to Jack. He set up targets in his backyard, both for shooting and knife throwing. She was a decent shot, though he was better.
When it came to her knife, though, she was every bit as good as him. He might have more power behind a throw, but she more than equaled him in accuracy and speed.
To her surprise, instead of viewing it like a competition, he enjoyed her accomplishments. She’d never received as much praise as he heaped on her. Better still, it always felt genuine. Jack even asked her to show him a few things, and God love the man, it meant the world to her.
She also accompanied Jack on other private deliveries arranged by Charlotte. Some were mundane deliveries of important papers and such. Others, though, were more fascinating, like delivering a replacement wedding cake while the bride and groom waited, because their own cake had been dropped.
She still laughed over the woman who’d paid Jack to deliver a bag of sand to her ex, a symbol of the vacation property she’d won in a divorce after the dude had ditched her for another woman.
She loved working on his house with him. Doing her small part, seeing sections come together, was oddly satisfying. She’d never been great with her hands, or so she’d thought, but Jack gave such simple instruction, he made it seem easy.
Didn’t matter if she was sanding a wall, painting trim, or holding a board so he could cut it. It worked, maybe because she and Jack worked.
As a couple.
Short-term, she reminded herself, unwilling to jump the gun. All good things came to an end. She wouldn’t let herself forget that.
Jack had handled her freak-out with compassion, a touch of humor, and a lot of understanding. How long could that last? So far, she hadn’t had another occurrence, but she would. She always did.
Likely she’d have them for the rest of her life. She didn’t think he’d accept having his sleep disrupted in the long-term.
“You’re too quiet,” Jack said suddenly, glancing at her. “Something wrong?”
Ronnie smiled. Jack always read her so easily, sometimes knowing her better than she knew herself.
Giving him a partial truth, she asked, “Will you miss them?” She reached into the back seat to stroke Howler’s muzzle.
It was their last day with the animals. Brodie and Mary had returned the night before and now they were joining them at the office.
Grinning, Jack parked in his usual spot near the entry doors. “You’ll see them often, honey. Brodie rarely leaves Howler behind, you know that. When he does, Charlotte or I are the sitters, which means the dog is still around.”
“And since he and Peanut are inseparable—”
“Where Howler goes, Peanut goes.”
It wouldn’t be
the same, though. For a little while, they’d felt like...what? A family? She nearly snorted at her own absurdity. Some family person she’d make. For her to even try would be the joke of the year.
Predictably, Howler went completely bananas at seeing Brodie. He wanted out of the car, now, and made it known with howls and barks and whimpers.
Brodie wasn’t much better. He was in the yard waiting, and his face lit up when he saw them drive in.
The two of them had really missed each other.
What would it be like to have anyone, or anything, love her that much?
As soon as he parked, Jack released the dog. Howler leaped out, practically doing flips in berserk excitement. To greet him, Brodie knelt, opened his arms, and ended up flat on his back in the dirt while the dog climbed over him, licked his entire face and neck, barked in glee, and finally stretched out over him, panting.
Brodie grinned ear to ear, hugging Howler and saying, “I missed you, bud.”
Crazy, but Ronnie felt tears sting her eyes. That’s why she should never have shed the first tear. One tear always led to more and God knew, if weakness found a crack in her armor, it could bring down her whole foundation of defenses. She’d worked too damn hard to rebuild herself to let that happen.
To avoid the emotional overload, she went inside, joining Charlotte and Ros in the breakroom. It was past the lunch hour, but they sat at the round table sharing colas together.
“Hey, honey,” Ros said, standing to greet her with a hug.
She did that often, even when Ronnie only stiffened. Sometimes, like now, when Ros was so very nice and welcoming, it made Ronnie miss her own mother even more.
That, too, couldn’t happen. She’d given up on a reunion. At some point she’d found her backbone and realized that chasing that particular dream only led to frustration and hurt, that if anyone wanted to see her, they’d have come to her.
And they hadn’t.
Over Ros’s shoulder, Ronnie saw Charlotte’s grin.
“You may as well get used to it,” Charlotte said. “Ros is a hugger. The whole family is. They already converted me, then Mary, and now they’ll wear you down, too.”
“Nothing wrong with a good hug,” Ros said, squeezing her a little tighter.
Jack’s mother always smelled of flowers, something Ronnie couldn’t help noticing. Not perfume but maybe floral shampoo, or lotion. She was soft, in a warm, gentle way—though her hugs were always fierce. They stood close to the same height, but Ros had much more generous curves. The brisk fall wind had lightly tangled her hair, which she wore loose today.
She was extremely pretty, in a very natural way, with Jack’s and Brodie’s incredible bedroom eyes.
Whenever Ronnie found herself in this position, she didn’t know what to say or do. Awkwardly, she returned Ros’s hug, but without as much enthusiasm.
Ros finally released her and held her back to say, “I just love your hair and makeup. Whenever I see you, you always look so striking.”
Mary, with Howler now trailing her, joined them. “It’s like an art, right? I can do my regular old makeup, mostly to hide my freckles and flaws, but if I tried your eyeliner, I’d botch it for sure.”
Ros said, “I happen to know Brodie adores your freckles—and so do I.”
Laughing, Mary took a seat. “Brodie claims to adore everything, so he doesn’t count. And you’re always sweet.”
Ros started to protest that, but Charlotte chimed in with, “I love your whole look, Ronnie.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never quite got the knack for any of it. Whenever I try makeup, I look like a clown.”
“You don’t need makeup,” Brodie said as he and Jack strolled in. He paused to kiss Charlotte on the top of the head, then dropped into a chair next to Mary.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Right. Because you think I’m still a teenager.”
“You’re pretty enough without it,” Jack corrected, and he took the seat next to Ronnie.
Honestly, she didn’t think anything of that comment. Charlotte was pretty in a wholesome, young and innocent way.
The other women, though, all glared at Jack.
“What?” he asked, the perfect face of innocence.
Ronnie was curious about their reaction, too.
“I wear makeup,” Mary said. “Are you saying I’m not pretty without it?”
Jack paused. “What? No.” He glanced at Brodie for help, then back to Mary. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your makeup, but I’m sure you look great regardless.”
Brodie muttered, “Nice save.”
“You said Charlotte was pretty enough without it. You think women only wear makeup because they’re unattractive without it?”
Jack blinked. “Honestly, hon, I have no idea why women wear it.”
“Sometimes,” Ros said, “it’s just fun to get all dolled up.”
“How would you know?” Brodie asked her. “You don’t wear it.”
There was a thump under the table, and Brodie yelped, grabbing for his leg.
“I don’t either,” Charlotte said. “But I want to try Ronnie’s look.” Mutinous, she turned to Ronnie. “Do you think you could show me?”
Ronnie blanched as all eyes turned to her. “Um...”
The men were strangely still and silent, as if afraid to speak.
Mary eyed them with censure, then linked arms with Charlotte. “Perhaps you could show us both. I’d love to spruce up my look a little.”
Brodie looked pained, Jack exasperated.
“Me, too,” Ros said, after shooting her sons a killing glare. “We’ll make a girls’ day of it.” She reached out and put a hand on Ronnie’s arm. “How fun will that be?”
Fun? Ronnie almost strangled on her surprise.
“Mom,” Jack warned.
“Hush it,” she replied. “You’ll be working on your house. We’ll stay out of your way, no worries.”
Excited now, Mary grinned. “Tell us what we should buy. We’ll all bring makeup. Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Brodie groused.
“Agreed.” Jack sat back in his chair, his arms crossed.
With the women watching her expectantly, Ronnie’s temper started a slow rise. At first she hadn’t realized the insult, but now she got it.
Tucking in her chin, she stared at Jack. “So tell me why, exactly, I shouldn’t do their makeup?” Not that she particularly wanted to, but did he think she’d somehow defile his family? “You told me you liked my look.”
Harried, Jack said, “On you it’s sexy as hell.” He gestured at the other women. “But it’d be different for them.”
Brodie nodded dumbly.
“If Ronnie is sexy, that makes me what?” Mary demanded.
“Already too hot for words,” Brodie said easily, his gaze roving over her in a way that showed he meant it.
Jack’s brother did that a lot, saying overly sexual things about Mary, eyeing her as if she was the most gorgeous woman in the world. Ronnie would write it off as them being newlyweds, but she had a feeling it had more to do with Brodie being himself than anything else. He clearly loved Mary and had no problem sharing that love with the world.
“Then what about me?” Charlotte asked. “Neither of you would ever describe me as sexy.”
The brothers looked horrified by the very idea.
Brodie said, “You’re pretty.”
“And sweet,” Jack added.
“Pretty and sweet,” Charlotte sneered, as if those were insults. “I’m also single, you know, so I need all the help I can get.”
Ros laughed. “They’d both like nothing more than for you to remain single.”
Mary nodded. “Honestly, though, Charlotte, you know that’s a choice. You get plenty of interest, you’re just picky.”
B
rodie choked. “Look who’s talking!”
“Nothing wrong with being picky,” Jack added.
“True.” Mary smiled at her new husband. “Look where it got me.”
The homey little spat made Ronnie feel very much like an outsider, which she was. “They’re grown women,” she pointed out. “Charlotte included. She can make her own decisions about her look.”
“Fine.” Jack opened his arms in a gesture of magnanimity. “Knock yourselves out.”
“Oh, son.” Ros shook her head in a pitying way. “No one was asking your permission.”
Brodie laughed. “Get used to it.”
After slanting a look at Ronnie, Jack cracked a smile. “Believe me, I hope to.”
Oh crap, what did that mean? He hoped to...get used to her being around? Butting into a family discussion? What?
Her lungs refused to function, especially with everyone now smiling at her in such a knowing way.
“So, uh...sure.” God, she felt conspicuous. “Long as I’m not working—”
“Great, then it’s settled,” Mary announced.
The women chatted about what they’d need and when they could get together, and so it was that Ronnie found herself drawn into plans for a girls’ adventure...when she had no idea what it even meant.
It wasn’t until some minutes later, when Brodie spoke to Jack, that they got off the subject of makeup.
Thankfully.
“You finally met the brothers, right? What did you think? Therman’s description of them was...colorful.”
“They’re kooks,” Jack replied simply.
Ronnie shoved him with her shoulder. “They’re just eccentric.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “if by eccentric you mean a display room in the basement with the walls, ceiling, and floors painted dark, with only a few lights arranged to selectively highlight their bizarre goods. I almost tripped over a bookshelf that looked like it was made with the legs of a wolf.”
Charlotte covered her mouth with a hand.
“It just looks that way!” Ronnie pushed Jack’s shoulder for misleading them. “They’re molded plastic.”
“Worse than that,” Jack continued, “is their creepy-ass doll collection.”