by Lori Foster
“Take your pick.” Ronnie could pretend otherwise, but they both knew everything was tied together—and that it started and ended with her. “If we could figure out what he wants, maybe we could track it back to him.” And then Jack would put an end to the bastard.
“I think we need to visit Drake and Drew. They could know the names of other collectors who lost out, especially any who were bitter about it.”
Jack agreed.
They were busy making notes of the weirder pieces to ask about when Mary breezed in. She struck a pose in the doorway and batted her eyes.
Wow. Jack wasn’t sure how Ronnie had done it, but Mary looked even more amazing than usual.
He elbowed his brother to get his attention.
Brodie glanced up, then did a double take, which wasn’t an uncommon result to seeing his voluptuous wife. This time, though, Brodie couldn’t even manage to blink.
Jack watched as he very slowly stood from his chair.
Smiling, Mary said, “I take it you like the look?”
Skirting around the desk, Brodie headed for her, his intent clear.
Laughing, Jack reminded him, “Not the time, Brodie.”
Brodie pulled up short and growled a low curse.
Cocking a brow, Mary said, “Okay, I get it. It looks better, but don’t act like I was a hag before.”
“You’re always beautiful,” Jack promised.
Nodding, Brodie agreed. “Always.” He studied her face. “You do look different now, though.” Then he rushed to add, his tone low, “But you know my favorite is when you’re fresh from the shower, still naked—”
Mary smashed a hand over his mouth. “Ronnie said that instead of trying to hide flaws—”
“You don’t have any flaws,” Brodie said around her fingers.
“—I should play up my assets.” She batted her eyelashes again. “I’m actually wearing less makeup, but it does look terrific.”
Wrapping a hand around her waist, Brodie drew her close for a kiss. “I’ll show you tonight just how gorgeous you are, with or without makeup.”
Mary laughed and ducked away. “Return to whatever you’re doing. I’m heading back to the kitchen so I don’t miss anything.”
On her way out, Brodie stroked her behind, making her laugh and skip a step to get out of reach.
“Letch,” Jack accused.
“She loves it.” Brodie reseated himself. “So when can we visit them?”
“The brothers?” Jack sat back, considering. “I’ll give them a call.”
On the first ring, Drew’s disembodied voice asked, “Is everything okay with Ronnie?”
“Everyone is fine,” Jack promised. It struck him again how much the brothers cared for her. “I’m just trying to pin down who’s bothering her and you might be able to help me. Do you document your collection with dates and sellers?”
“Dates, always. Sellers, when we can. It’s how we secure authenticity.”
“Although that’s not always possible,” Drake added, explaining, “And sometimes not even necessary when something is too fun to pass up.”
“Great.” Fun was not a word Jack would ever associate with their hobby, but he understood Drake’s meaning. “Would you mind if we visited to go over everything?”
“We would do anything to help.”
A thought occurred to Jack, prompting him to ask, “Why did you decide she needed a driver? Before you hired me, she took care of things on her own, right?”
“Yes, but after that incident...” Drew cleared his throat, and the ethereal tone leeched from his voice. “We couldn’t bear the idea of her being alone.”
“She’s very important to us,” Drake stated.
“Incident?” Jack stiffened. His gaze clashed with Brodie’s, seeing his brother on alert. Bracing himself, for what he didn’t know, Jack put the phone on speaker so Brodie could listen in, and then calmly asked, “What incident?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT MIGHT HAVE been nothing,” Drew hedged, and for once he sounded only like a man. An uncertain man. “That’s what Ronnie claims. That we’re overreacting. It’s just that she’s been so good to us, so understanding of our...quirks.”
Drake said, “We didn’t want to take any chances.”
“I understand.” Ronnie cut out most people, but for the eccentric brothers, she’d opened up, accepting them—because they’d accepted her.
“And still all this has happened,” Drew moaned with a return of a dark croon. “Drake and I discussed letting her go—”
“Not a great idea.” Jack knew part of what sustained Ronnie was her work, staying busy, taking pride in a job accomplished. It would devastate her to be fired.
“We came to the same conclusion.”
“Good.” Relieved on that much, anyway, Jack asked, “Can you tell me what happened? What first alarmed you?”
“She was in Cincinnati for a purchase. We don’t know if it’s related, but there’d been a string of grisly murders in the area. Three I think. No one was ever arrested, but around the same time, we were contacted about a lock of hair.”
“A lock of hair?” Holding the phone to his ear with one hand, Jack grabbed the mouse in the other and scrolled up the screen until he found the silly photo of Ronnie.
He and Brodie shared a look. “Dark hair? You posted it on your Facebook?”
“Yes, that’s it. You probably can’t tell from the photo, but it’s too coarse to be a child’s hair, and it’s clumped together with a drop of thick glue at one end, so clearly someone meant to keep it.”
“Did it belong to someone famous?” Brodie asked.
“We don’t know,” Drew said. “But it’s creepy, don’t you think?”
“An oddity to be sure,” Drake noted.
Jack did his best to hide his impatience. “What happened to Ronnie?”
“The seller had advertised the piece and apparently we weren’t the only ones interested. As Ronnie drove from the neighborhood, another car tried to run her off the road.”
Jack sat back in the chair, in his mind, seeing it unfold and wishing he could have been there with her.
“She’s an excellent driver, slick when necessary, but her hatchback isn’t meant for maneuvers.”
“A more aggressive car,” Drake predicted with ominous overtones, “would have overtaken her.”
“And God only knows what would have happened to her,” Drew said.
Ronnie was a slick driver? She’d never said anything to him, although of course she’d touted her overall capability plenty of times.
“How did it end?” Jack asked.
“She managed to avoid a collision, and she said once she made the highway, she lost the other driver.”
“Of course, for us,” Drew said, “it was a wake-up call.”
Drake cleared his throat. “We felt she needed a man with her, someone big enough to be intimidating—although we didn’t tell her that part.”
If the brothers were within arm’s reach, Jack would hug them both. “She’d have had you for breakfast.”
“Yes, well.” Drew swallowed. “We chose you because you’re rather large, and your brother is highly praised by Therman Ritter.”
“You did the right thing.” And now that Jack knew her, he never wanted to let her go.
Drew asked, “When did you want to go through our records?”
“Just a second.” After covering the phone, he said to Brodie, “I’m not sure we need to look beyond the details surrounding that lock of hair, and Drew could just send that to me in an email.”
“True,” Brodie said. “But I get the feeling Ronnie isn’t used to being cooped up so much. She could use a day away, especially if it helps her feel proactive in dealing with this shit.”
Jack rubbed the back of his nec
k, undecided.
“I’ll follow again,” Brodie promised. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”
“I’m not sure she’d wait behind anyway.” Truthfully, Jack was equal parts worried about someone getting to her, and her leaving him out of some misguided idea of protecting him.
Jack had just finished setting up a meeting with the twins when his mother sashayed in like a beauty queen.
Jack disconnected with Drew and turned to grin at her. “Well, look at you.” Ronnie clearly had a knack for this sort of thing.
With her hair in the usual ponytail, and dressed in a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, fancy makeup would have looked out of place. Ronnie must have realized that, too, because his mom just looked like herself, only more so.
Brodie closed out the screen and stood. “If Dad could see you now,” he teased, “he’d be crying at your feet.”
“Oh shush,” she replied, laughing.
Jack scowled at his brother. “No matter how she looks, Dad would still be a cheating, thoughtless dick.”
“That, too,” Brodie said easily, arching a brow at him.
Belatedly realizing how he’d blundered, Jack added, “You look great, Mom.”
Brodie gave him a shove. “She always looks great.”
“I look greater,” she stressed, “but thank you both.” She folded her arms in a pose that Jack knew he and Brodie had probably learned from her. “Now, about your dad—”
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face, then glared at Brodie. “I’m sorry he brought him up.”
“But you know it’s true,” Brodie insisted. “Every time Dad is around, he starts slathering after her.”
“Doesn’t make it a good idea,” Jack stated.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Ahem.” Ros gave them both the look, and it rendered each of them instantly mute. “Just so we’re clear here, your father will look at me like that until we’re old and gray, and probably then, too. It has absolutely nothing to do with actual appreciation. It’s more like a habit for him.”
Brodie protested. “We can all agree he’s a jerk, most especially to you, but Mom, you have to know how pretty you are. Everyone says so.”
She preened. “Thank you.”
“You’re too good for him all the way around,” Jack stated.
“I certainly thought so, or I wouldn’t have divorced him.” She winked at Jack. “I don’t want you boys to ever think I’m swayed by your dad one way or the other. His compliments aren’t real compliments at all, and his disregard has nothing to do with me. Actually, it has nothing to do with any of us. Those are his shortcomings, and he’s the one who will have to suffer them, probably alone.”
Jack frowned as the reality of that landed like a brick on his head. For the first time that he could ever remember, he almost felt sorry for his father. The man would be all alone, when he could have had an absolutely amazing wife. One day he’d realize it, and then he’d be alone—and miserable.
Standing, Jack pulled her into a hug. “Just so you know, Mom, even when you think you’re a mess, you’re still pretty damn awesome.”
She laughed and squeezed him tight—until Brodie stole her away for his own hug. “I kind of like it whenever I see the regret in Dad’s eyes. He has no one but himself to blame for messing it up, but that doesn’t mean he’s blind or stupid. He knows what he lost.”
“Sadly,” Ros said, “it never taught him a lesson.” She stepped back. “Maybe neither of you will believe this, but I’d like to see him find someone special, a woman who’d inspire him to change his ways and settle down. You should both wish that for him, too.”
Jack and Brodie shared another look. Yeah, fat chance.
Suddenly Charlotte cleared her throat. Loudly.
Jack looked up and there she was, posed against the door, Ronnie right behind her.
Not only did she wear makeup, but her hair was different, too, loose and... Jack eyed it. Fluffier? Sort of... Fuck.
It was sexy.
On Charlotte.
The job Ronnie did on his mother and sister-in-law was subtle and subdued, but for Charlotte, it was somehow more. Not garish, but instead of Charlotte looking like an innocent teenager—which was how Jack preferred to think of her—she appeared very much a woman.
Brodie muttered, “Holy fuck,” and received a whack on the shoulder from their mother.
“Well?” Charlotte prompted. She tipped up her chin.
Jack wasn’t sure if that was an affectation she copied from Ronnie, or if she did it so they could better examine her eyes—which now looked even bigger, softer and more inviting.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Mary prompted.
Ronnie narrowed her eyes.
Jack found his voice before Brodie. “You are, Charlotte. You look...more than beautiful.”
“I’ll have to make a trip around town to issue warnings,” Brodie growled. When his wife snickered, he snapped, “It’s not funny.”
“Puh-lease,” Ros countered. “It’s hilarious.”
“You can’t keep thinking she’s a kid,” Mary said, her tone soft as if she sympathized. “Men are going to notice her.”
God, Jack didn’t even want to think about it. Charlotte had been a part of their family for so long, she might as well have been a sister. He couldn’t love her more if they did share blood. But she was so tenderhearted, in some ways—in most ways—so innocent. “It’ll take some getting used to.”
“So.” Charlotte gave them both a glare. “What was I before? Butt ugly?”
Ronnie said, “You were sweet and young. That’s all.” She glanced at Jack. “Though you’re only two years younger than me.”
Two years—and a world of attitude. Jack tried to joke, saying, “I’ll be more restrained than Brodie—”
“Aren’t you always?” Charlotte asked.
“—but a few warnings wouldn’t hurt.” Jack reached out to snag Ronnie and pull her into his side. She looked uncertain, and therefore combative. She was stiff against him, but he pretended not to notice when he kissed her temple. “You have a knack.”
Her gaze turned up to him. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Taking beautiful women and making them more so.”
To that, the women pretended to lift a glass and said, “Hear, hear,” with enough enthusiasm to make her blush.
Brodie still just stared at Charlotte in bemused shock.
* * *
CRAZY HOW EXCITED Ronnie was about doing something, anything, other than waiting for another sign of trouble. It was a cold morning, a dusting of fresh snow leaving the world sparkling. Her breath had frosted as they’d stepped outside, and she wondered if she needed a new, thicker coat.
Once in Jack’s car, he turned up the heat and within minutes it was cozy. And familiar.
Ronnie loved doing this, going places with Jack, riding shotgun as he drove. Talking, listening. Sharing.
She liked returning home with him, too, but that wouldn’t last much longer. If the twins had the information they needed, she might be able to put an end to the drama. Then she’d move back to her own place, maybe get back to her old life. What would happen with her and Jack, she didn’t know. And honestly, she didn’t want to think about it. Not now.
They’d just about reached their destination when she found her curiosity from the day before too much to contain. “So.”
Jack didn’t exactly smile, but a line bracketed his mouth, telling her he was on the verge. “So?”
“Yesterday—”
He immediately reached for her hand. “You did an amazing job. Charlotte was...transformed. It was a shocker.” Jack shook his head. “A nice shock, but still, it’s just a tricky thing, knowing what to say. If I went on too much about how good they looked, I’d get accused of thinking they weren’t pretty
enough to begin with.”
“True story.” Ronnie couldn’t help but grin at his plight. She’d witnessed that dual reaction herself and didn’t entirely understand it either. Visiting with the women, though, had prompted a weird sort of kinship, and she found herself saying, “Consider how they felt. Women don’t want to wear makeup all the time, but it’s nice to know it’s appreciated when they spruce up.”
“Some women,” he countered, “don’t want to wear makeup at all. Mom rarely has, and until yesterday, Charlotte hadn’t.”
“But you approve of the look?”
“That’s a trick question, right? Because regardless of whether I say I do or I don’t, you’ll tell me my approval isn’t required.”
The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but it sounded like something Ros or Mary would say, so she shrugged. “I’m just curious what you thought.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I think you took someone who I wrongly considered a girl, and made it impossible to deny that she’s a woman.”
Ronnie gave that some thought, decided it was a compliment, and grinned. “Actually, that’s not even what I wanted to talk about.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I overheard what your mom was saying about your dad.”
“Oh.” Scowling a little, Jack released her hand as he slowed and turned a corner.
“The things your mom said... Do you feel sorry for your dad?”
Very carefully, Jack asked, “Should I?”
She twisted in the seat, leaning closer to him. “Probably. I mean, look at what he’s missing! You guys are so great as a family. It’s nice. Really nice.”
“Agreed.”
“He could have been a part of that, but because he can’t get his act together, he’s more of an outsider. It’s sad, don’t you think? For him, I mean. Whatever he has, it can’t be as good as all of you.”
Jack pulled up to the house where they would again visit with the twins. He stayed quiet as he turned off the car and took off his seat belt. After a very brief pause where he stared through the windshield at nothing particular, he unhooked hers, too.