Guarding Jenna: Brotherhood Protectors World

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Guarding Jenna: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 10

by Holt, Desiree


  She drew in a deep breath to settle herself, let it out, and nodded.

  “Let’s do it.”

  They drove back to the cabin to pick up Jenna’s SUV. Then, just in case anyone was watching, they drove off in their own vehicles, meeting up outside of town after they were sure no one was watching them. Scot had found a place to stash his truck. Then they put the seat down in Jenna’s SUV, he climbed in, checked his Glock 19, and curled up beneath a blanket.

  She pulled away, having set the location on the GPS on her phone, and followed the directions. She hoped whatever happened took place at her first stop. Not that she was anxious for the confrontation. More to the point, she wanted to just get it over with. Catch whoever showed up, make him tell if Bartell was involved, and turn everything over to the state police, which was what Hank had told Scot they’d do.

  The spot she came to was a heavy grove of trees along the side of the road, one that went several yards back. It was isolated, on a highway without much traffic. And where it would take days, as it had, for the body to be discovered. She parked in a space between some of the trees, grabbed her phone, and headed into the woods. Many of the trunks were thick enough to conceal someone, so she looked carefully around as she walked to the small clearing where the bodies had been found.

  She had just started taking pictures when she heard a twig snap behind her and turned to find Sheriff Bartell standing there, a look of rage on his face. He grabbed her camera with one hand and her hair with the other.

  “You just had to stick your fucking nose in my business, didn’t you,” he growled.

  He was pulling her hair so hard, Jenna had to stand on tiptoe to relieve the pain.

  “Whoever you are covering for deserves to be revealed and arrested. Rape is one of the worst crimes you can commit.”

  “It’s not a crime if you enjoy it.” The look on his face chilled her blood.

  “I hope whoever this is pays you a lot of money for all the lives they’ve destroyed all these years.” Scot’s voice was edged with rage. “ Now, let go of her damn hair.”

  The sheriff released her, and Jenna stepped far away from him, rubbing her head.

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” Bartell asked. “It wasn’t just one person. It was six of us. Yes, us,” he added when she gasped. “We all had the same cravings. It’s how we took our pleasure all these years.”

  “ But you won’t be taking it anymore.” Like a ghost materializing out of nowhere, Scot appeared behind Bartell and shoved his gun in the sheriff’s back. “Let go of her hair if you don’t want a bullet in your spine.”

  “You won’t pull that trigger.” Bartell’s voice was edged with bravado.

  “Don’t bet on it. I was a sniper with the SEALs. I killed bad guys for a living.”

  “And so did I.” Another man appeared from the trees. “Scot, keep your gun on him while I truss him up. Then we’ll toss him in the back of the truck and haul him to the highway patrol. Their headquarters is in Helena, and Hank’s already contacted them so they’re expecting us.”

  They frog-marched Bartell to the other agent’s pickup, but before he tossed him in, Scot got up close and personal with him.

  “Without you and your playmates exposed. I’d venture to say a lot more people will be coming forward.”

  “They’ll keep their fucking mouths shut or else,” Bartell spat.

  “Or else what? A real law officer will be taking statements now. This whole disgusting game just fell apart.”

  “You ready now?” the other man asked Scot.

  “I am. Oh, and Jenna? Say hello to Charlie Zero.”

  “Sorry we had to meet like this,” Charlie said. “Scot, you help me get this asshole tied down real good in the truck before I take off. I’m going to call Hank so he can have the highway patrol send a car to escort me. You take your lady home. She looks like she’s had a quite a day.”

  “Hi, Charlie.” She was proud she’d managed to keep herself together. “Thanks for helping.”

  “It’s what we do.”

  Jenna managed to keep herself together while Charlie drove off and then when Scot followed her back to the cabin. But once inside, she collapsed on the floor, and the tears she’d been holding back for years fell as if they’d never stop. Scot picked her up off the floor and sat on the couch with her on his lap, holding her against his chest and murmuring soothing sounds to her.

  They sat that was for a long time as she burrowed into his warmth and the safety of his arms.

  It was dark out by the time her emotions finally settled down. Scot insisted on giving her a hot shower and bundling her in her thick robe. Then he made her some hot soup, and a cup of tea liberally laced with bourbon.

  “We won’t talk about this anymore tonight,” he ordered. “I want to help you sleep. Then, tomorrow, we’ll find out what’s going on. Okay?”

  She nodded, apparently incapable of speech.

  And that was what they did. He held her in his arms until she finally drifted off to sleep, for once without nightmares.

  * * *

  “It’s a nine days’ wonder,” Scot said as he disconnected a call on his phone. “Apparently Bartell tried calling his friends to have one of them get a lawyer for him. When everyone hung upon him, he decided to see what kind of deal he could get if he gave everyone up.”

  “So there really was a group doing this? Not just one man?”

  Scot nodded. “Bartell was cozy with the others—the ones you thought might be involved, by the way—and in civilian clothes handled security at their big parties. They were sitting in someone’s den after one of the shindigs. Someone—no one wants to admit who—complained about his wife being an ice cube and wouldn’t it be great to get a taste of young flesh for a change.”

  “So they thought it would be wonderful to have this good-old-boys club raping virgins so they could get their rocks off?” Jenna thought she might throw up.

  “So it seems. People like that make me sick.”

  “Who killed the girls who came forward?”

  “The highway patrol thinks it was Bartell. They found the pictures of the dead girls with fingerprints on their neck and they’re comparing them. Can you believe he kept those pictures all these years?”

  “I can believe anything at this point,” she said in a sad voice.

  “Hank will keep us up to date over the next few weeks as things unfold. And he’s hoping you’ll do not just a series on this but also another book. Get the word out, so to speak. Let other women and girls know how dangerous men who abuse power can be.”

  “I had that in the back of my mind. But what I’d really like is to put all of this away for a couple of weeks and just enjoy finally being free of that nightmare.”

  “Funny you should say that.” He carried a mug of fresh coffee to the table for her and sat down next to her. “Hank asked me if I’d like a couple of weeks off after this, even though it was a short stint and not really taxing.”

  Her heart did a double-time beat. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I either wanted to take someone sightseeing in the Crazies or sit on a boat in Florida on the Gulf of Mexico.” He grinned. “I guess that depends on which you like better.”

  She stared at him. “You want to spend it with me?”

  “Didn’t we say when this was over we’d see where it could go?”

  “Yes, but—” She bit her lower lip.

  “But you weren’t sure I meant it?”

  She nodded.

  “Jenna. I’ve never meant anything more. I feel the kind of connection with you I’ve been looking for the past two years. Are you all in?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “Yes, I am. So where do we start? Montana or Florida?”

  “We can talk about that later. I know where I want it to start right now.”

  He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, pulling her down on the bed with him.

  And then there was no more talking.
>
  Hidden Danger

  DESIREE HOLT

  USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  Turn the page for a taste of Hidden Danger, my first book for Brotherhood Protectors

  Chapter 1

  I’m going to make him sit down and listen to me. If this was a mistake, I need to know that now and move on. Maybe that’s what I get for grasping at straws.

  With that whirling in her mind, Alix Bonner exited the interstate and turned onto the two-lane highway that led to the ranch-style mausoleum she called home. Her stomach was knotted with a combination of anger and anxiety. She had hoped the weekend at the Vanity Fair Spa would relax her and help her put her life in perspective. But nothing had been able to push the thoughts out of her mind that had been spinning around there since her whirlwind marriage to Lee Bonner.

  What’s wrong between us, Lee? I wanted to use this weekend to find out. Why has business suddenly become more important?

  He had been so edgy the past couple of weeks she’d had to tiptoe around him. Something was wrong, and she was determined to find out what it was. Her plans to stay home this weekend and try to work this out between them were torpedoed when Lee announced he had business meetings. She was beginning to get sick of all the damn business meetings. When was there time for the two of them?

  After the first week of their hasty marriage, she had the feeling Lee had relegated her to the sidelines. The only thing he seemed to have time for with her was hot sex, which wasn’t so hot anymore, and to show her off at dinners and events with business people. He was generous with money, but she was beginning feel as if he’d bought and paid for her. And she had no idea why. Something was very wrong, but she had no idea what it was.

  And, yesterday, he’d been particularly uptight.

  “Couldn’t we spend the weekend doing something together?” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “Maybe it could relieve some of your stress.”

  “Not possible. This is important.” Then, as if it occurred to him he might be angering or upsetting her, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and moved her hand. “Maybe next weekend, okay? For now, go to the spa. Enjoy yourself. Spend the weekend there.”

  She was still trying to decide if he’d been encouraging or just trying to get her out of the house.

  When her cell phone rang, she checked the screen, hoping it was Lee telling her his meetings were over. No such luck. Not Lee, but Gina McMasters, her closest friend in Houston.

  “Hello, lady of the manor.” Gina’s voice was bright, as usual. “How goes life in the mountains?”

  “It’s not exactly in the mountains, but close.”

  “Just checking up on life with the gorgeous hunk.”

  Gina had been there when she met Lee at a hotel event and probably would have run away with him herself if she’d been the one he had his eye on.

  “Life is…fine.” She put a deliberate smile in her voice. “It’s great, in fact.”

  Liar.

  “Better than Houston,” Gina pointed out.

  “Yes,” she said. No way would she let Gina know what her situation had turned into. “Much better. Listen, I have to go but I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Alix? You okay?” Concern edged Gina’s voice.

  “Yes. Fine. Call you later.”

  She thought she’d had a nice life in Houston, with a great job as event coordinator at one of the major hotels and a relationship with what she’d thought was a great guy. If the sex wasn’t off the charts, so what? Maybe her expectations were too high. Then the roof fell in on her. A mega chain bought the hotel, and someone was brought in to replace her. She’d had her eyes on the prize, but the new owners took the prize away. How stupid she was not to have seen that coming.

  And Barry, the long-term relationship she’d invested so much in, had given her a shock she still couldn’t fully accept. She’d wanted to kill him when she discovered he was one of the attorneys handling the hotel deal. And that the deal had been in the works for two years, and he’d used their so-called relationship to get as much inside information as he could. Talk about feeling like the village idiot. It didn’t say a whole hell of a lot about her ability to pick a man, or about her intelligence.

  She had to recognize the fact that Lee Bonner had swept into her life at a low point, dazzled her, and waltzed her into a hasty wedding. But now it appeared like he was strike two in her choosing-a-man department. What had happened to her brain? Her smarts?

  Maybe she should have a T-shirt that said Stupid.

  She turned onto the highway leading to their house outside Eagle Rock.

  Almost home.

  She knew money wasn’t the problem with Lee. Generous was too mild a word for her husband. But the situation at home had niggled at her from the minute she’d left the house yesterday. Had she made a mistake falling into this whirlwind marriage? Was he sorry, now, after barely three months, that he’d married her? The thought nagged at her more and more.

  She’d begun to wonder if all Lee had been searching for was a great hostess for the parties he loved to throw and an acceptable wife on his arm for the events they attended. When had everything begun to deteriorate? Was she even in love with him anymore? Had she really ever been, or had she just anxious to get out of Houston?

  Maybe she needed to find a job to occupy her when he was gone so much on business. How would Lee react to that? And was there even a place in Eagle Rock that could use her skills?

  Shut up, Alix. Just find him and make him listen to you. If he won’t, you’ll have to think about walking away. Start fresh someplace else.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock. Three o’clock. At first, she’d thought about calling him from the spa, but she was afraid he’d tell her to stay there. Just going home was better. When she got there, she’d call his cell, hoping he answered, and coax him into coming home early. He didn’t like her calling when he was involved in business, but that was tough. This was important. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. But as soon as she turned into the long drive, the knots in her stomach tightened even more. Several cars were parked in the turnaround in front of the house. Lee never had business meetings at home, especially with this many people.

  She drove carefully around to the side of the house, surprised to see the garage door open as she pulled into her slot. Leaving the weekend bag she’d taken with her in the back seat, she entered the house quietly, surprised at the silence that greeted her. Then she heard the faint murmur of voices coming from Lee’s den, which he liked to call his cigar room. It was where he indulged in the hand-rolled Cuban cigars that were frequent merchandise on some of his trucks.

  Should she go knock on the door? Sit in the kitchen? Find something to do until whatever this gathering was ended? Lately, Lee had been so on edge, she often had no idea what would set him off.

  She took a tentative step into the living room…and stopped dead. The giant flat-screen television set was on, but the image paused on it didn’t come from any television show, she was sure. Instead, it held a montage of pictures of men’s faces or their bodies. The men in some of the pictures were obviously dead, and not so neatly, either. In the others, there was just a head shot, but she wouldn’t want to meet any of them on a dark night. Beneath each photo was the word Eliminated or Set up for Elimination.

  This couldn’t be some television show. The image was static, unmoving on the screen. Then she noticed the light for the DVD player was on. What kind of disc had something like this on it, and where had it come from? What did Lee have to do with it?

  For a moment, she was frozen in place, shocked. Panic surged through her, making her heart rate triple. Her stomach roiled, and she had to bite her lip to keep from throwing up. What in god’s name was Lee involved in? Why would he be killing people? He had a trucking empire that had made him uber wealthy. How did all this figure in? Did any of this explain Lee’s increasingly strange behavior for the past three months? And who were the men he was cl
oseted with?

  The boom of laughter sounded faintly in the den, and someone said in a loud voice, “Killing those fuckers was a pleasure.”

  Oh, god. Oh, Jesus.

  She needed to get the hell out of here before anyone knew she was home.

  Please don’t let me pass out. And don’t let me make a sound. If they find me, will they kill me, too?

  Then a tiny part of her brain kicked in.

  A record. Make a record of this.

  She pulled her cell phone from her purse, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it, and snapped a couple of pictures of the television screen. She was so panic-stricken she didn’t notice the spa receipt she’d stuffed into her purse fell onto the floor. As quietly as she could, she eased into the garage and climbed into her car. She prayed silently that the noise of the engine as she cranked it would not penetrate the thick walls of the house. She gave fervent thanks the garage was on the opposite side from Lee’s den.

  Heading down the driveway, she forced herself to maintain a low speed to minimize engine sound. But when she turned onto the highway, she hit the gas, and the car leaped forward. And fear leaped into her throat again. She kept checking her rearview mirror, terrified she’d been heard and Lee or someone would follow her. If they caught her, she’d be as good as dead. She knew it.

  What the hell is going on? Who were all those people marked Eliminated? What am I going to do? Where can I go?

  Her hands were shaking so badly she worried she’d steer the car into a ditch.

  She was pretty sure the bodies in the pictures were of dead people. What was Lee doing discussing dead bodies with whoever was at the house? Who was this man she’d married, that he could discuss killing people while smoking cigars? And who were the men with him?

  Then another thought stabbed at her—Lee would call the spa this evening. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he always called her at nine o’clock at night. For a long time, she thought how nice it was that he wanted to chat with her no matter where he was or what he was doing. Now, she wondered if he was checking up on her. But why? That heart-stopping scene in the living room was giving her an instant case of paranoia. How had she gotten herself into this situation? Lee Bonner had been so attentive, affectionate, and caring when he’d swept her off her feet and out of Houston. What had gone wrong? Or had she just not seen the real man?

 

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