by M. S. Parker
The letter sender had taken longer to get started, but it wasn’t that easy to figure out how to get in touch with Carly Prince. It wasn’t like her address was listed in the white pages. They’d tracked down her publicist instead.
Her publicist had advised firing me. Strongly.
Carly had fired her publicist instead.
She liked her new publicist more anyway. I did, too. The guy was flamboyant, flirting with anything and everything – me included – but I’d gotten used to it once I realized that was just him.
A few days after that realization, I’d met Max’s husband – who just happened to be a pro wrestler who could’ve turned me inside out without breaking a sweat. I didn’t play that side, and both Max and his husband knew it. Max’s husband also knew what a flirt Max was, so we didn’t have any issues there.
At the moment, however, I felt like kicking the hound-dog’s skinny ass. I’d told him to let me know if more letters came. I didn’t want Carly knowing about them. She’d worry, and that was the last thing she needed right now.
The second letter was more of the same.
Is she next? Will you kill her like you killed Derrell?
Disgusted, I flipped to the next one, and then stopped in the middle of the hall.
The message was simple, but to the point.
Do you believe in a life for a life?
Blood started to roar in my ears and my heart jumped up into my throat.
It wasn’t fear for myself that did it to me. It really wasn’t. I’d looked death in the face more than once, and I’d figured out a long time ago that there were worse things.
That was what worried me, that this was one of those worse things.
Whose life was this talking about?
Mind made up, I left my cabin and headed up to the big house. I was going to hunt Ryan down and figure out what in the hell was going on.
I found him in the security room.
He took a look at my face and shook his head. “Nothing I can do about the will, Bobby. You can’t argue with a dead man.”
I just stared at him, my breathing ragged.
After a few more seconds, he turned his head and looked at me, caution bleeding into his eyes. “Bobby? You in there?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at the letter and read it again. Then I shoved it in Ryan’s direction.
He came out of his seat and approached, taking the letter, still watching me warily. His breath hissed out between his teeth after he’d read it.
“When did you get this?” He shot me a look. “Are there more?”
“Yeah. Two of them.” I bared my teeth at him. “Ridley brought them to me. He said Carly is getting them. What the fuck, Ryan?”
“It’s procedure.” Ryan’s voice was flat. “You know that. Max gets everything that’s sent to this address and to Carly’s fan club. He then sorts it out.”
“Procedure, yeah, that it go to his office, but not that he open my fucking mail!” I bellowed at him.
Ryan took a step toward me. “Would you have told us about the letters if you’d gotten them directly?”
The expression on my face answered for me.
“Exactly.”
It hit me then. “You told him to do it.”
“Damn right I did. I’m not letting your ego get someone hurt.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“Don’t like it,” he said, voice smooth. “Then quit.”
“What’s going on?”
Both of us turned as Carly moved into the hall.
The sight of her was like a dull knife cutting into me, sawing through the half-dead meat that was my heart. Gruesome, yeah, but what I was feeling wasn’t pretty. And judging by how she looked, she wasn’t in the best shape either. Her eyes looked bruised, tired from crying. She was pale, her curls restrained in a simple braid. And she was still beautiful. Maybe the media frenzy that followed her wouldn’t think so, but to me, she was always beautiful.
“Carly,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You’re back early.”
She gave me a polite, blank look and I wanted to shake her.
“I was tired,” she said. Then she looked at Ryan. “What’s going on?” Before he could respond though, she glanced at the letters and her mouth went tight. “Let me see.” She held out a hand.
Fuck.
I tried to snatch the letters away, but Ryan held them out of my reach.
“I want to see,” she said, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
“It’s my problem!” I snapped.
“Oh, of course.” She rolled her eyes and for the first time in months, the façade she wore around me cracked. “Everything is somebody else’s problem. Let’s not bother poor Carly with anything! She might not be able to handle it because she’s so fucking fragile!”
Temper sparked in her eyes and she took a step closer to me. My head started to spin because this was the closest she’d been to me in weeks – no, longer. Probably in over a month. Up until Jake had started going downhill, I’d been the one who’d been on personal detail, but after, she went back to having Ace at her side for the most part. It had hurt like hell, but it had also made it easier to keep my hands to myself.
Now, with her standing so close, it made it a lot harder not to reach out and touch her, grab her. Hold her. Kiss her.
My gaze dropped to her mouth.
Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath.
A second later, my head snapped to the side. My cheek flamed where she slapped me.
Hard.
“Alright. That’s it.” Ryan muscled between us and shoved me back.
I went willingly, not bothering to reach up and touch my stinging cheek. I just stared at Carly, unable to believe what she’d done. Not that I thought she hadn’t been capable of it, but that it finally happened.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” Ryan asked.
She sniffed. “Yes.” Her voice cracked. “It’s because...” The words were more sobs than anything else now. “He’s a...he’s...a...a...fucking ass!” She took off as soon as she shouted the last two words.
Ryan blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing at me. “Are you going after her? Or am I?”
“Yeah, it really looks like she wants to talk to me.” I gestured to my cheek.
Ryan sighed and shook his head. “You don’t know shit about women.”
13
“If I may point your attention...”
The voice droned on and on. I was pretty sure that if I had to continue sitting here listening to him for much longer, I’d fall asleep.
And then...
“This particular clause affects one Robert E. Cantrell.”
“Bobby,” I corrected automatically, jerking my head up. The lawyer didn’t look happy to have been interrupted and I grinned at him. It wasn’t a nice grin though. I wasn’t happy he’d interrupted my near nap.
Mr. Theodore S. Edelson cleared his throat. “Yes, shall we?” And then he continued on to the clause that affected me, Robert E. Cantrell.
“I bequeath my house, located at...”
My head started to roar.
“And the entirety of its contents, including the library, the shed and its contents, and my car, a 1964 Mustang.”
The weird banging noise I heard had to be my jaw as it hit the floor.
The lawyer droned on.
Or he would have, but I finally stuttered out, “Stop.”
“Mr. Cantrell, that’s your bequest, in its entirety.”
“He can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “He couldn’t have left me all of that. His house? His car? I just wanted a couple of books!”
“Sir, I assure you, there is nothing else–”
Next to me, Ryan started to chuckle. Carly, after a second, giggled. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh in ages.
“I think you got the books, man,” Ryan said, and then he started to laugh.
I glared at all of
them. “This isn’t funny! He left me a house! What am I going to do with a house? And his car? Was he crazy?”
Carly laughed harder.
Ryan struggled to get it under control.
“This isn’t funny.” My face burned. Everyone was staring at me, their expressions ranged from amused to pissed. Carly was the former, Ridley the latter.
Cameo – the newest addition to the crew, and the only woman – rolled her eyes at me. “Robert, you’d think he’d given you a case of syphilis, not a house and an awesome car.”
“Bobby,” I said.
She lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. It was clear she was still feeling everyone out. “I don’t see what the problem is. If I’d been left a house, I’d be doing backflips.”
Carly was almost crying now. No...check that. She was crying.
Ryan started toward her, but I beat him there.
I didn’t know what drove me – or at least didn’t want to admit what it was – but I caught her in my arms just as her legs gave out. I sat and eased her into my lap. We ended up on the couch, and at first she pushed me away, shoved at me. I didn’t move, knowing that if she’d truly wanted me away, Ryan would’ve intervened. Then, finally, she clung to me. My chest tightened as she pressed her face into it, her sobs tearing at my heart.
“He’s gone, Bobby. He’s really gone.”
I stroked her hair and murmured her name. I didn’t say anything else though. What could I say? She’d lost a man who’d essentially been her only parent, and I knew all too well the hole that left behind. The best I could offer her wasn’t much, but it was all I had.
“I understand you’ve recently come into a sizable, well, inheritance?”
I met the dark, sharp eyes of Julia Espinosa. When I’d moved to California, the first order of business had been meeting with my new parole officer. An ex-convict out on parole has a shitload of rules to follow to keep from being sent back to prison. Detoine had been fine with the request to move, but I knew a lot of that had been thanks to Carly, Ryan and Jake. I didn’t, however, get to go without a PO at all. So, I’d ended up with the slightly scary Espinosa tugging my leash.
As she waited for my answer, I resisted the urge to slump in the chair and act like a horse’s ass. Instead, I jerked a shoulder and said, “Jake left me his house.”
“And a car, if I understand right.” She folded her hands on her desk, pinning me with a look. “Why would he do that?”
That was easy to answer. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure that out myself.”
Something that might have been a smile flickered across her eyes for the briefest moment. It was gone just as fast as it came. She flipped open a folder and withdrew something, studying it with pursed lips before turning it face down on her military neat desk.
“Tell me about the letters.”
I was going to kill Max. Or possibly Ryan.
“Don’t lie, either,” she warned. “That will get you in some serious trouble, Bobby. I find myself liking you. Don’t make me not like you by lying to me, and causing us both grief.”
“I don’t see why the letters are any concern of yours,” I said. Even I heard the fuck off in my voice. Not the best idea, but I couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Your general well-being is a concern of mine.” She picked up the top paper and held it out to me. It was a copy of the letters I’d shown Ryan the other day. “This sounds like a threat to me. Can you say otherwise?”
A life for a life...
The words mocked me.
“Somebody is just being an asshole,” I said.
“It’s possible,” Julia said after a moment. She picked up a pen and started to tap it on the arm of her chair as she studied me. “You know, a few years ago, people could probably say you were an asshole. Then you went and did something decent, and another asshole came after you. The two of you fought, and you killed him. Probably before he could kill you–”
“Probably?” I cut her off. Sweat gathered at the base of my spine and neck while my hands bunched into fists, but I managed not to growl. “I can guarantee you that Derrell Mitchell wasn’t looking to discuss the merits of our continued employment with a drug dealer, Ms. Espinosa.”
“I imagine he wasn’t.” She tapped the pen harder. “As I was saying, the two of you fought. He’s dead. You’re not. While there were extenuating circumstances, a lot of this started because you were an asshole. Since then, it seems like you decided there were other things you could be besides an asshole, but if anybody knows what things a person is capable of, it should be you.”
A dull, heavy weight formed in the pit of my stomach.
When I didn’t say anything, she tossed the pen on her desk and leaned forward. “I’m not going to claim any major insight on these notes, Bobby, but I don’t like them. They make me itchy. I know your boss doesn’t like them either, does he?”
Technically, I could argue that Carly was my boss, but in the end, it was Ryan who handled everything now that Jake was gone.
And both of us didn’t like anything about this.
It had taken determination to track me down, even if it had only been done via Carly’s agent. And whoever this was hadn’t done it just once. He kept sending the notes. There weren’t any prints. The postmarks all varied. Lexington, DC, Nashville, Detroit. He wasn’t stupid, which meant he was even more dangerous.
“What exactly do you want me to say?” Instead of looking at her, I stared at one of the framed prints on Espinosa’s wall. Her office was a lot nicer than Detoine’s had been. “You want to hear that whoever this asshole is has gotten under my skin? All right. He has.”
“I hope he has. He’s sending notes to Ms. Prince, too, if I recall correctly.”
I sighed. I really didn’t like the polite dance she did. Even though I appreciated her not treating me like shit, I preferred people just coming out and saying what they meant.
Especially when I already had enough shit to deal with.
“Why don’t you just get to whatever point you’re trying to make?”
Julia sighed this time. Then, catching me completely by surprise, she tugged her glasses off and put them on the desk. She looked younger without them, and I realized, with a start, that she was pretty. Not that it mattered. Even if I wasn’t already lost over Carly, and even if I was stupid enough to feel some tug of attraction to a woman who held that much control over me, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to even attempt to flirt with Julia. She’d slice my balls off and hand them to me.
Of course, I thought, so could Carly. Maybe I was more of an idiot than I realized.
She glanced up at me, and as though she’d followed my line of thinking, she frowned. “You’re enough to give a woman a headache, you know that?”
I managed not to smile. “I’ve been told that.”
“Hmmm.” She nodded slowly. “I bet you have.”
I shrugged. I could bullshit over this a lot easier than I could bullshit over other things, at least with Julia. “You don’t really see Carly as somebody who stands with a lot of formality, do you?”
“I couldn’t say.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never met her, and I grew up in this town. I’m not dazzled by the stars. And I don’t follow any of the gossip rags either.”
Normally, I would’ve agreed with her on all points. It wasn’t any kind of star that dazzled me. It was just Carly. But there was nothing ‘just’ about Carly.
“Well, trust me. She’s not big on formality. If I called her anything but Carly, she wouldn’t much like it.”
I couldn’t tell if Julia bought the casual routine or not.
“There’s a lot of speculation about the two of you.”
Giving her a partial smile, I asked, “How would you know about any of that bullshit if you don’t follow that sort of thing?”
“Because I’ve got plenty of co-workers who do follow that sort of thing,” she replied, her tone wry. “Any of the bullshit out there on the money?�
�
“Well, PEOPLE reported that Carly Prince has a convicted killer working for her. I cannot tell a lie. They are right.” I paused and then added in a deadpan voice, “It’s a shame about Ryan, really.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t seem to be truly annoyed. “You’re cute, Bobby.”
“So they tell me.” A look at the clock on her wall told me I still had a good ten minutes in here. “What else do you need to know, Ms. Espinosa? I’m being a good boy. I’ve kept my nose clean, and even if people try to pick a fight with me, I keep out of trouble. I’m taking online college courses.” Then I snorted and added, “For all the good they’ll do me. I’ll end up with a masters in business in a year or two and still, people won’t want anything to do with me.”
“Apparently Carly Prince does. Ryan Harmon has nothing but praise for you. Most of your co-workers couldn’t speak any more highly of you.” She paused and then added, “Although it seems a Mr. Ridley doesn’t care for you. He claims we should ship you back to Kentucky so they can lock your ‘redneck ass back up.’”
She managed to get Ridley’s Bronx accent right on key.
Smirking, I asked, “Is that all he had to say?”
“My point is, you have a number of people who think you have a lot to offer society. You’re working in personal security, and that’s a fair amount of trust for a man with your background.” Julia watched me.
She had an unnerving way about her. Worse than a lawyer, just as bad as a cop. Since I didn’t know what she wanted me to say, I said nothing.
A faint exhalation escaped her. She was pushing for something, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. A few more seconds passed, and then she placed something in front of me.
The words made sense in a disjointed sort of way. I recognized the font, the style of writing.
Except this one wasn’t directed at me.
You know his secrets. You still support him. That makes you equally guilty.
14
I spent the time driving back to the estate to pull my temper under control.
While I’d been behind bars, I’d been required to take all kinds of anger management courses, one of which had been about healthy ways of expressing anger.