“Just having a little fun with my girl. Publicity for her upcoming show,” Jason said.
“It’s all over InstaDirt. There’s a video of you catching her on the sidewalk.”
“We were reenacting a fireman’s rescue for her Cocky Heroes line.” Jason took the opportunity to embellish the story. It figured some bystander had called the police after spotting them climbing down the fire escape, rather than the Leaches who would not have wanted to draw police attention.
Thank God for small favors.
“What’s up?” Blade asked. “I know you’re on leave, and you’re not supposed to be butting in, but you must be calling me for a favor.”
“I am. I need you to back me up at the fashion show. I’m substituting for one of the models, so I need another pair of eyes on the guests.”
“I heard Avery kicked out the firefighter, Brando’s friend. What was the reason?”
“We’re eliminating any models or staff who were at the show last year. One of the models, José Perez, was found dead after the after-party.”
“And you suspect one of the others?” Blade asked.
“Not necessarily. But I want to keep Avery safe, and if she was the target last year and not Brando, then it makes sense to eliminate any repeat models.”
“How about audience members, photographers, and guests?” Blade pointed out.
“I can’t control that variable,” Jason said. “That’s why I need another set of eyes.”
“Heard The Garden is out after the bomb threat,” Blade remarked. “Haven’t heard where the show will take place.”
“I can’t tell you until closer in,” Jason said. “Everyone will be brought to the location right before the show starts. Also, you can’t be armed. The president’s daughter is back in the show, and Secret Service will be involved.”
“Can I bring a partner to back me up?”
“It’s unlikely you can get anyone cleared by Secret Service this close to the show,” Jason said. “I’ll text you the contact person.”
“Sure thing. It’s worth a try. Anything specific you want me to watch for?”
“Keep your eyes on Larry Leach, if he shows up. Also, Alida Adams, Matt Swanson, Richie Overton, and Avery’s guests, her parents, the General and Mrs. Cockburn, and Mrs. Bonet, Brando’s mother.”
“Are they suspects or in need of protection?”
“Both, with the exception of Mrs. Bonet. I can’t imagine she’d hire anyone to kill her son.”
“Who do you suspect?” Blade sounded like he was quizzing him.
“All of them and a couple of people who are not attending the show. The barista, Saul Guillory, Avery’s model wrangler, Ivanna Chu, Larry’s brother, Harv, and his father Orson. Oh, and follow up on Tatiana Renzi. Be careful. The chief is cozy with her.”
Blade whistled a long descending pitch. “That’s a lot to keep my eye on. And here I thought I’d enjoy watching you strut down the runway.”
“It’ll be over quick. I appreciate it, man.”
“Can’t you tell me the venue? Don’t hold out on me.”
“Sorry, no can do. I’ll text you the meeting place tomorrow. Limos will ferry everyone to the show. There will be metal detectors and explosive-detecting dogs, so don’t even bring a hunting knife.”
“Wish you’d let me know so I can scout it out ahead of time.”
“Just keep an eye on the people I mentioned. Secret Service will take care of the rest.”
As he hung up, Jason wondered why Blade was so insistent on knowing where the fashion show would be held.
Chapter Forty-Three
Gino himself delivered the pizza, along with breadsticks, wings, and a Caesar salad to the hunting cabin. While Avery wanted to be alone, Gino’s gentle teasing and the obvious affection he had for Jason rubbed off on her.
She sipped on the Chianti and laughed along at the stories he told—mostly embarrassing ones about Jason’s childhood. Jason endured the ribbing good-naturedly, and Avery could tell he was itching to go back to the city and dive into the investigation.
He’d shown her the bugging equipment sewn into the sexy swimming suit. The setup was expensive and designed to make the wires look like underwire for the suit and therefore intentional. What was Tatiana up to? Avery wished she could have spoken privately with her, but at the same time, she couldn’t be trusted.
Was she on Larry’s side or working on her own?
While Jason and Gino talked sports, she’d snuck a text message to Mrs. Bonet asking if she’d seen Tatiana recently.
The answer was no, not since the previous weekend.
She’d asked Joan to text her if she saw Tatiana return, and when Joan asked if everything was okay, she assured her she was safe and would have dinner with her before the show—the same timeslot Alida wanted her to be seen with Matt. Humpf, the three of them would have a date for the media. See what they’d make of that!
“I wish you a good evening.” Gino kissed her on his way out. “The show will go great. I’ll even put in an order for the Brando Fedora.”
“You’ll look dashing.” She hugged him. “It’ll be a gift from me. Just text Jason your hat size.”
“Wow, thanks. Make sure you sign the hatband.”
She and Jason stood on the porch listening to the night bugs chirp. Despite the food and wine and the company, she was still jittery and uptight, and her nerves jumped higher with each crunch of Gino’s tires receding down the road.
“Hey, you’re safe here. I won’t leave you.” Jason put his arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t you have to keep investigating?” she asked, twisting her hands together. “I texted Joan, and she says Tatiana hasn’t been home since the weekend.”
“She won’t answer the door without a warrant,” Jason said. “I know you’re exhausted, and you have a big day tomorrow.”
“There’s still so much to do.” She fluttered her hands, and her pulse spiked with panic at how few hours remained.
“Didn’t you tell me Kerry has everything under control? Finn’s a hit with the models, and his Army discipline and logistics experience has everyone ready to deploy.”
“True. We did finish most of the accessories and do the alterations. I feel bad that everyone won’t be doing the animal fur, fins, and spikes. We just didn’t have time to recreate everything after Ivanna was hurt.”
“It’s for the better,” Jason said. “You don’t want to dilute the Brando Heroic theme. Somehow, brave firemen don’t match with feathers, wings, and scales.”
“I can see your point, except Alida will be disappointed with the lack of social media shares.”
“You don’t need gimmicks to get real fans. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing spiked quills.” He ran his hand over the top of his hair. “I’m not as prickly as you think.”
“You’re disappointing.” She elbowed him in a playful manner. “And here I thought you’re impossible to live with.”
“I am impossible, but in a good way.” He turned her around and planted a kiss on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.”
Even though Jason sounded innocent, the deep, sexy burr of his voice licked fire over her every tingling nerve, arousing her and making her writhe with a sudden surge of desire.
She was ready to forget everything in the throes of orgasm and let the flames of lust burn her anxiety to ashes. Could he compartmentalize what he’d learned about her and let it go, at least in the throes of passion?
Kissing and clutching him, she stumbled with him back into the cabin. He pressed her against the door, raising her hands above her head while his skillful mouth assaulted her lips, neck, and teased her expectant nipples.
Who needed to talk when bodies were sparking with passion and desire? Besides, Jason might still be feeling the lingering effects of the meth. It was unlikely, but she wasn’t about to miss out on throwing him into a higher high.
Unfortunately, when he wrestled her onto the bed where she wanted to be, he roll
ed off her and held her hand. “Before we do anything, I want to apologize.”
“You, apologize?” she gasped, still trying to catch her breath from the sudden transition. “I thought you wanted to, you know, sleep with me.”
He pinched her heated cheek lightly. “I do want to sleep with you, but I want you to trust me more.”
“I already trust you.”
“That’s your horniness speaking.” He flashed her a knowing grin. “When people are aroused, they lower their standards.”
“Not me.”
He put his finger over her lips. “You’ve already lowered your standards.”
“How so?”
“Don’t argue with a man who’s trying to say he’s sorry,” he grunted. “Especially when he never says he’s sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“For treating you like you don’t matter.” His eyes were large and solemn. “It took being forced onto leave of absence to make me realize that chasing a case comes second to taking care of the victim.”
“Are you referring to me?”
“I know I’m all business with a one-track mind. When that cab hit the curb, I jumped over you to chase the perp. The morning after, I cut you off to answer the phone. It’s been burning me up knowing I disregarded your feelings.”
“You had work to do.”
“Nothing that couldn’t have waited a few minutes.” He squeezed the hand he held, caressing her palm with his thumb. “I promised myself I’d never hurt you. I’d rather let the killer go than stomp over your feelings.”
“I’d rather you nailed the killer.”
“I’ll do both. Nail the killer and show you how precious you are.”
She swallowed hard, wondering if he was only saying it as a reaction to what was revealed at the professor’s place. “How can you say I’m precious when I disgust you?”
“Are you reading my mind?” He quirked an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. “How can I judge you for anything you did before you met me?”
“Oh, so it’s all about you, isn’t it?” She tried to keep her voice light, even though she’d never heard anyone express himself that way. Did it mean she could have killed someone and he wouldn’t judge? Not that she had.
“No, it’s all about what evil people did to you. My anger and disgust are directed at them, the same way I blame my father for abusing my mom.”
She bit her lip, realizing how he was opening his heart with that admission. Some people might have blamed their mother for not walking away. Some people would definitely call her a slut for doing the acts.
Was she truly blameless? She didn’t want to play the victim card because it would mean she was helpless.
“I’m partially responsible. It wasn’t just the men like Orson. He didn’t exactly force me to do the private shows. I got benefits too.”
“Not exactly a fair trade, Avery.” His voice lowered in a way that warned her he was on the verge of exploding. “You’re talented. You didn’t need his help to get into the big shows.”
“Everyone’s talented. There are so many who love clothes, can match style with emotion, create moods and dazzle. Art is subjective.”
He slapped the mattress. “Okay, fine, you don’t want to be a victim, but you didn’t exactly ask for this. You were a kid, and they took advantage of you. The junk they gave you wasn’t worth what they did to your soul. It was coercion, and you couldn’t exactly have walked away.”
“I didn’t try.” She almost asked if his mother had tried to walk away. “My ambition was too strong, and my morals were too weak. I recognize that. I’m partially to blame. Worst of all, I even dragged my precious Brando into it.”
This, to her, was her biggest failing. She’d wanted that debut show at Manhattan Fashion Week so badly—hottest new designer honor—that she’d involved a man who had the highest moral code—one who’d never done wrong.
Jason took a deep and exasperated breath. He mowed both hands over his head, raking his hair. “That must have been a doozy. How did he react when you asked him?”
Avery smiled wryly. But of course, the detective in Jason took over, and he’d already forgotten his resolution to put her first. “He didn’t like it, but he allowed me to molest him. He was angry and swore to the professor he’d never allow me to do this again. Of course, Orson only laughed and hinted at my big secret.”
“And then what?”
She shrugged, not wanting to relive the nightmare. “I thought he was going to break up with me after the show. He was sullen, quiet, and uncommunicative. The entire thing went against every moral fiber he held. He’s a good man, and I couldn’t see him attaching his good family name to someone like me.”
“But he planned on proposing?” Jason’s gaze was expectant, as if he were waiting for a surprise ending or a twist to the story.
“I don’t know. I talked myself into it when I saw him slip the ring box into his pocket. I thought he was on the verge of breaking up with me.” She extracted her hand from his and wiped her eyes. “To this day, I don’t know if he would have truly proposed or done it for the publicity—you know, make news and then take it back later?”
“I’m sure he intended to marry you.”
“Not if I had to go back and do a private show every year. After we did what we had to do, he dropped me off at The Manor and turned off his phone. I knew then and there that I disappointed him. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to see my face again. Thinking about it now, I degraded him and dragged him down to my level.”
She shocked herself at revealing so much to Jason. She’d never even admitted to herself that she’d degraded Brando and that he suffered a trauma because of it.
She covered her mouth and cried, “It must have felt like rape for him.”
Jason rubbed her back and cuddled her close. “He must have love you immensely.”
“Why didn’t he refuse?” She almost said, like you did, but she swallowed the words. She should never compare one man with the other. Brando wanted to please her, even when it came to sacrificing himself.
“He was probably shocked. How did you get him to walk with you at the fashion show? You must have impressed on him how important it was to you.” He made it sound like she was a master persuader or hypnotist.
She laid her forearm over her eyes, not wanting to see Jason’s expression. His voice was enough to nail her as the one at fault.
“I was on pins and needles, not hearing from him. He didn’t answer my texts or return my calls. He didn’t even meet his mother for dinner. I was sure he wasn’t showing up for the ramp walk, but right before we lined up the models, he appeared—dressed in the suit I made for him.” She closed her eyes at the memory, knowing that a faint smile graced her face. “He was like a dashing prince come to kiss sleeping beauty. I hoped it meant he’d forgiven me.”
“You trusted him to come through.”
“Yes, he always did. To the end.” Tears spurted from her eyes, and she choked on her sobs.
Jason didn’t say anything. He just held her; for how long, she wasn’t sure. The constant pressure of his hard, hot body against her and his strong, solid arms. He didn’t make tutting sounds or say words of comfort, didn’t tell her she was right or had no choice, didn’t lie and tell her everything would be okay. She had failed Brando at the crucial moment. She should have been the one who died—not him.
Instead, here she was, with another man’s steady presence. A man who had blood on his hands, even if it was in service to protecting the public, but a man who for whatever reason insisted on being her shelter in the storm.
The tears gave way to sheer and utter exhaustion. She’d been running on fumes just to get through the show.
Her face found a snuggly spot tucked in the junction of Jason’s chest and bicep, and she yawned. “Will you forgive me if all I want to do is sleep?”
“That’s exactly what I want.” Jason adjusted his body in a more comfortable position. “You to be
so trusting of me that you’d sleep in my arms, safe and protected. Knowing I’ll never hurt you and I’ll never let anyone else hurt you.”
Wow. She was knocked speechless. It sure sounded like he loved her, although she shouldn’t put words in his mouth. Could he truly settle for damaged goods like her?
“Do you want me because I’m easy pickings?” She put a joking lilt to her voice while trembling on the inside and dreading his disdain.
He feathered her lips with his and rubbed noses. “I don’t care if you’re easy or hard, as long as you let me be the one to protect you.”
“Who’ll protect you?” she asked, wanting to fold him into her arms and rest his head on her breasts. “Who’ll see to it that you won’t be hurt?”
His arrogant grin was back, splitting his rugged face wide open. “You just volunteered.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She rested her arm over his broad chest, as if it were a comforting shield. “I hereby solemnly swear that I will protect your heart with mine.”
She didn’t know if she could keep her promise, but then again, it was up to him to let it only go so far. She wouldn’t knowingly hurt him, but she didn’t have much left to give.
While Avery rested in his arms, Jason made a mental note to follow up on Brando’s state of mind after Avery manipulated him into performing for the professor’s lecherous pleasure.
Any man would have felt violated. Used. Betrayed. Angry enough to kill. Add to that the deep shame and utter disappointment. He must have wondered how a woman who professed to love him would put him in such a degrading position.
Had he made plans to avenge himself? Or did he drown his emotions with alcohol?
Had he considered reporting the professor to authorities? Or did he buy a gun and plan on hunting them down? Stalk the professor and run his van off the road?
Did he speak to someone about it?
Probably not his mother.
What if he’d made threats to the professor, and Larry hired someone to take him out?
Triggered by Love Page 32
