Tall, Dark and Deadly Books 1 - 4

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I… knew that.”

  “So you know she was murdered.”

  Her heart clenched. “Yes.”

  His head jerked around, his gaze piercing hers, even in the darkness of the vehicle. “If Royce had asked me if he should have come clean with you, I wouldn’t have told him ‘no’ but ‘hell no’. You would have done what you did tonight. You would have pushed him away and made it damn near impossible for him to protect you. And you don’t take risks with someone’s life, especially not someone you care about the way he cares about you. You risk their anger, their inability to forgive you, but you don’t let them die.”

  She could barely breathe with his words. “You blame yourself. You think you compromised on something that cost her life.”

  “I know I did,” he said. “I let her die. He’s been a wreck, worried you would hate him, worried about protecting you. And that woman on the machine was nothing to him, Lauren. Nothing. You are. He has a past, but so do you. We’re going upstairs and you aren’t staying with me. You’re staying with him. If you want to sleep in the guest room, then so be it, but you need to be with him, so you two can try and work this out.”

  She started to cry, the second time in two days and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried before that. She hadn’t even cried when she’d found Roger in bed with his bimbo. Mad at her weakness, she swiped the tears, and shoved the door open.

  Blake met her at the bed of the truck, and they walked in silence to the elevator and then the apartment. She waited for him to search the apartment, and then joined him. She stood inside the door, trying to decide what to do, unsure how she felt. No, she wasn’t unsure. She hurt. She hurt like she’d never hurt before.

  Blake sat down on the couch and she walked into Royce’s room, ignoring the rumpled sheets and the spicy male scent of the man she knew she loved, the man she’d always known would break her heart, and gathered as many of her things as would fit in a bag. She needed space, she needed to think. She needed trust.

  She walked out of the bedroom, heading to the spare room down a hallway to the left of the master. Blake was watching the news, and he didn’t look up, but when she was about to turn down the hall, the television went off.

  “Lauren.”

  She paused without turning. “I meant it when I said ‘what if’ destroys. It’s the bitch of all bitches. Don’t give her a chance to destroy you, or my brother.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lauren’s cell phone alarm buzzed near her head and her lashes shot open. She’d dozed off and on, but true deep sleep had never come. She turned off the alarm, emotion swelling insider her. Royce hadn’t come to her, and it hurt, which confused her. She had told him to stay away. She wanted him to stay away. She sat up. Oh God. What if something had happened? What if he never came home? She shot to her feet, tugging her long pajama top to her knees as she hurried down the hall and rounded the wall, to stop dead in her tracks. Royce and Blake were both there, fully dressed and sleeping, the two chairs they occupied reclined back, the television on mute.

  Lauren stared at Royce, his long hair half out of the clasp at his neck, the long, dark strands brushing his handsome, tension etched face. She inhaled and started to tiptoe to his bedroom, where she’d realized last night she’d left her purse and makeup, and pretty much everything she needed to get ready for work. She crept into his room, gently eased the door shut and then rushed to the bathroom.

  Minutes later, she stepped into the shower, the hot water pouring relief into her stiff, tired muscles. She lingered, taking her time, not eager to get out and face the day, most likely filled with police and news people.

  Finally, she forced herself to turn off the shower and pulled the curtain back. Royce sat on the toilet. Lauren jumped and let out a tiny yelp. He handed her a towel, his eyes lowered. She accepted it and wrapped it around herself.

  His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes so blue, so tormented, they stole her breath. “I couldn’t go to bed knowing you weren’t there.”

  She squeezed her lashes shut, water dripping down her cheeks, off her hair. “I can’t do this now. Not before I go to work.” She stepped out of the tub and he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. “I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you. I wasn’t about to let your father hold this over my head for the rest of our lives. I-”

  She shoved away from him, suddenly furious. This was about her father. “Right. You wouldn’t want my father to hold this over your head.” She pointed at the door. “I know this is your bathroom but please leave and let me get dressed. Please. I need to be alone.”

  “You took that wrong. You didn’t-”

  “I don’t want to hear this now, Royce. I want to go to work and do what I do far better than relationships. I put criminals behind bars.”

  He studied her a long moment and then scrubbed his heavily stubbled jaw and stood up, towering over her. His eyes pierced hers, lingering on her face for several tense seconds, before he turned and walked away. She stood there, unable to move, in a puddle of water, and then something snapped inside her. She ran after him, rounding the bathroom door at the same moment he reached for the bedroom door.

  “Consider yourself fired.”

  He turned to look at her. “You can’t fire me. You didn’t hire me and neither did your father, Lauren. I promised to check out a threat. I fell in love. The end.” He turned and yanked open the door and left, slamming it behind him.

  Lauren sank down on the floor and damn it, she was flipping crying again. He didn’t love her. No. And saying he did was manipulative and mean. She was so damn tired of the men in her life using her like some sort of token. She swiped angrily at the stupid tears she should be above and forced herself to stand up. It was time she took a real lesson from Julie, that she separated sex from relationships, accepted that the relationship part was better left for people who liked heartache, because she didn’t.

  ***

  Royce showered in the spare bathroom and changed into jeans and a black t-shirt he’d left in his dryer, and was pulling on a leather jacket when the bedroom door opened. Lauren emerged, dressed in a cream colored suit that grabbed the highlights in her long, brown hair and turned them to sunshine. Hair he knew smelled like honey and vanilla. God, he had it bad for this woman and she hated him. He was pathetic, the kind of pathetic he would have called foolish in any other man.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “You’re taking me?”

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” he said, and there was a bite to his voice he couldn’t hide. She had a fist around his heart and just kept squeezing. “You’re stuck with me until I catch your would-be killer. Then you can kick me to the curb.”

  She stared at him a long moment and then cut her gaze, her shoulders folding in slightly, that sunshine hair hiding her face. Emotion rolled off of her and punched him in the gut, twisting him in guilty knots.

  “Lauren,” he said softly.

  Her gaze lifted to his. “Yes?”

  “Truce, baby. Today is going to be hell. Let’s be on the same team so we can get this SOB and make him pay.”

  “Yes,” she said, a slight tremble to her voice. “Yes, okay.” She walked toward him but they didn’t speak.

  They walked to the truck in silence, the tension between them so thick it might as well have been concrete. He helped her into the vehicle, their glances catching, the awareness between them crackling in the air. She still cared about him; he saw that in her eyes and determination filled him. He was going to make things right.

  Fifteen minutes later, he parked at a meter in front of her office. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Aren’t you just dropping me off?”

  “Not today. Whoever this is saw us fight last night, or I’ll gamble that he did, which means we need to send a clear message. I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to walk you in and I’m going to kiss you goodbye in public.”

  “That’s�
� that’s not necessary.”

  He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Lauren. I have since the moment I met you. I can’t be mad at your father for bringing us together.”

  She dropped her head to his chest. “I’m afraid to believe you.”

  He tilted her chin up, gently forced her to look at him. “Then I’ll show you and tell you until you do.”

  And when he expected her to push him away, she whispered. “Promise?”

  Relief washed over him and he kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss and it took everything inside him to end it. “I promise.”

  “I’m not going to tell you I love you now,” she said.

  “Now?”

  “Not now.”

  “If there’s a later, I can live with that.” He wiped smudged lipstick from her cheek. “The police aren’t involved. I used my FBI contacts and they claimed jurisdiction and sealed the file. No press, and I have a guy over there working this already. He’s simply no longer doing it off the books. He’s a good man. This will be kept quiet.”

  Tension rushed from her body. “Thank you, Royce.”

  “Thank me by being safe. It’s Tuesday. Your jury selection is still scheduled for tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then I’m going to work through the evidence from last night before tomorrow. I have a feeling our guy will show up for that. I have three men on the building. I’m one phone call away. If you feel even a tiny bit uncomfortable, you call and I’m here. I’ll take you home.”

  Her phone rang, she dug it out of her purse and he watched her hit ‘ignore’. She glanced up at him. “My father. According to his five messages, he wants me to drop this case before I get ‘everyone killed.’”

  For once he was beginning to agree with the senator, and for his own selfish reasons. He wanted Lauren safe. “I’ll walk you upstairs and I’ll pick you up inside your office.”

  ***

  Several hours later Lauren had finally managed to focus on her work, and was deep in concentration when the buzzer on her desk made her jump. She hit the button.

  “Lauren?”

  “Oh God, I know that tone to your voice. Who is here that I don’t want to see?”

  “Mommie Dearest,” she whispered.

  “What? Why in the world… Sharon is here?”

  “Oh yes.”

  This was odd and unexpected. “Fine. Send her in.”

  “Good luck.”

  Yeah, I’ll need it, Lauren thought. Obviously Sharon wanted something. It was the only time she heard from the woman. Dropping her pen on the desk, she leaned back in her chair, hands settling on the arms rests.

  Dressed from head to toe in Chanel, her skirt short and fitted, her perfume obnoxious, Sharon sashayed into the office.

  “Hello, darling,” she purred. ”How is my favorite stepdaughter?”

  “I’m your only stepdaughter,” Lauren reminded her.

  “Yes, dear, and that makes it even more special now, doesn’t it?” She set her purse on a nearby chair, and moved to a decorative mirror on Lauren’s wall, inspecting her appearance.

  “What is it you want, Sharon?” Lauren asked without any effort to hide her impatience. “I have a lot on my plate today.”

  Dabbing at her lipstick first, obviously in no hurry, Sharon turned with a heavy sigh. “I want to talk about Brad.”

  “Brad. The house had a bomb in it last night and you want to talk about Brad.”

  “I want to talk about getting your life back on track. Clearly, you’re spinning out of control and taking the rest of us with you.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “And it seems to me that now, right after you almost got us all killed, is the perfect time to talk about real change. Quit this fool’s game you play in this place and get serious about a bigger picture. Your father is being urged to run for the Republic presidential card again this term. He’s seriously considering it, but to get the backing he needs, and that will be a massive cash influx, we must be solid as a family. This is a greater calling, a way to change the world. We all must make sacrifices, which means you have to stop this thing you do here and now. Battered women deserve sympathy, not the electric chair. You are making your father look bad.”

  Lauren stood up. “This conversation is over.”

  Sharon didn’t get up. “I’ve talked to a consultant who thinks you and Brad being pulled together by family tragedy, the loss of your mother, of course, would be a story that warms hearts. It would show love found in the midst of pain. It would talk to the public.”

  “Are you crazy? Is your consultant crazy? That’s practically incest.”

  Sharon waved that away. “You lived in the same household for a flutter of a moment and you are not blood related. It’s a fairy tale.”

  “Does my father know this?”

  “Of course not. He is too stressed. I told him I’d do everything. I’d clear the path to the oval office and find the money. All he has to do is focus on his political strategy.”

  “This ridiculous, insane conversation is over. I truly think you’ve finally proven to me you are not completely of this world, Sharon.”

  “Sit down, Lauren,” she said sharply. “We are not done. Not even close.”

  Lauren glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with my boss in ten minutes. I need to freshen up and get going.” Grabbing her purse, Lauren waved toward the door. “I’ll walk you out on my way to the washroom.”

  Sharon drew in a breath, her eyes blazing fire. “Fine. I’ll talk to your father. Expect his call.” She turned and marched for the door.

  Lauren followed her to the door and watched her leave. “Queen Bitch,” Alice mumbled, standing up and fluffing her gray hair. “I’m going to the mail room. That new supervisor needs to ask me a question.”

  Lauren smiled weakly, aware of Alice’s crush. “Enjoy. I’m headed to my meeting.” She followed Alice to the hallway and then stopped in the bathroom, happy to find it empty. She paused at the mirror, her fingers trailing over her lips, her mind replaying Royce’s kiss, his words. I love you, Lauren.

  She was just told to stop fighting for what she cared about, for what she thought was right and wrong in this world. Last night, this morning, she’d almost done that with Royce. The one person, other than his brothers, who had told her to keep going, who believed in what she did, in who she was. He felt right. He felt worth the risk. And he already had her heart. There was no sense trying to protect it. “I love you, too,” she whispered, unable to deny the truth.

  Feeling remarkably better considering the threats, the bomb, and a stepmother who was probably mentally ill, she headed for the door when the fire alarm went off. Oh good grief, not again. These test runs the building did disrupted everything. She reached for the door and then frowned. It didn’t open. She tried again and it didn’t move. Dropping her purse to the ground she tugged with two hands. Nothing.

  Suddenly, the alarm became a part of a new nightmare. What if the building really was on fire? Oh, God, it was. There was a fire, and she was going to die. She grabbed her purse and scrambled for her phone, then hit auto-dial for Royce. No signal. She hit every auto-dial he’d put in her phone. Nothing. She was trapped in a burning building.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Royce had barely made it back to his building and sat down at his desk in the Walker office when Blake sauntered in, his long hair damp and slicked back, his stubble dark and unattended.

  “Nice shave,” Royce commented.

  “I showered. I changed. I’m staying here today. This is as good as it gets.” He sat down at one of the four steel desks in the office, directly across from Royce, leaned back in his chair, and kicked his boots up on the top.

  “Morning, angels,” Luke said, shoving through the door, his short hair neatly groomed, his face clean shaven.

  Blake glanced over his shoulder at him. “Oh, yes. Morning, angel. Kiss, kiss, and cheery sunshine happiness to you.” He grumbled something under
his breath and then said, “I just heard from my ATF contact.”

  “And?” Royce and Luke asked at the same time, as Luke sat down on the edge of Blake’s desk.

  “You know from last night that the package had an amateur grade explosive device,” Blake said. “The interesting part though, is that it had a timer. It’s possible that it went off at the incorrect hour with a malfunction. But,” he sat up, “think about this. A package that went off in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep. A snake that wasn’t poisonous. And this bomb wasn’t directed at Lauren.”

  “Two days before she starts jury selection,” Royce commented.

  “Right,” Luke said. “She hasn’t scared off yet, so the pressure increases.”

  “This doesn’t mean she’s not in danger,” Blake said. “This could be some sadistic bastard who wants to torment her before he kills her.”

  Royce shot him a glowering look. “Thanks for the ice water in the face.”

  “Anytime, bro,” Blake said.

  “Could be a sick obsession with her,” Luke said. “This guy-”

  “Or woman,” Royce inserted. “It could be a woman.”

  “Either way,” Luke said, going back to his prior thought. “He filmed her. He followed her. He watched her.”

  Royce pushed to his feet and walked to the glass door of the small office, the only window to the street, staring out at the people passing by without seeing them. The clear way this person was stalking Lauren was eating him alive. “And we have nothing but a long list of suspects,” Royce murmured, half to himself, before turning. “We need an end game, damn it. We need it now.”

  “We know he, or she, is after Lauren,” Blake said. “Make her bait. Set her up in the open in a way that doesn’t seem planned and bring him to her.”

  “Oh, what the fuck, Blake?” Royce said, stepping toward him, anger curling inside him ready to explode.

  Blake jumped to his feet and met Royce toe-to-toe. “End this, Royce. End it before this SOB ends it for her and us.”

  Luke stepped between them, hands on both of their chest. “Enough. This does us no good.”