Meet Your Mate

by Donna Michaels

  Jack rounded on him. “That's what we'd like to know! Any idea how your meal managed to hop off the plate?"

  "No. I prepared chicken cordon bleu not frogs-a-la-hopping.” He shook his head and backed up. “This is a travesty! The entrées were fine when I covered the plate and placed it on the counter for the servers to bring in."

  "You'd better show me where.” Jack headed for the swinging kitchen door.

  "Jack, wait!” Rodriguez rushed in from the hall, his expression bleak. “You need to see this."

  Brielle's heart hit the roof of her mouth. Now what?

  "What is it?” Jack asked as they hurried into the hallway, then stopped dead. “Shit!"

  A black strapless Jimmy Choo heel lay next to a turned-over plant. Brielle drew in a deep breath and approached the scene. No blood, no other signs of a struggle except for a discarded shoe and knocked-over ficus.

  "That's Mandy's shoe,” Matthew said from behind. “Where is she?"

  Brielle turned and watched his gaze dart around the foyer. Her heart squeezed. She wished her gut had a happy answer.

  Sophia placed a hand on his arm. “I remember she'd spilled her drink. She's probably in the bathroom washing it off."

  Matthew frowned. “Without her shoe?” He shook his head and stepped toward the bathroom.

  "Don't bother. Mandy's not in the bathroom.” She hated this part of the job.

  Matthew stopped and turned to her, his brows knitted together. “How do you know?"

  All eyes focused on Brielle.

  "Because of this.” She toed a speck of yellow peeping from under the mound of spilled potting soil.

  "Oh, God, no! Not another threat.” Pale, Matthew stumbled back.

  Jack clenched his fist and cursed. “The frogs were a distraction.” His angry expression turned puzzled. “But how did the perpetrator know Mandy would come out here?"

  "Distraction? She was grabbed? What do you mean? By whom? Who grabbed her?” Matthew rounded on Jack, his eyes wild.

  "I don't know, Matthew. Let me do my job, and I'll find out.” Jack placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

  "Maybe the note will shed some light,” Brielle suggested.

  "Yes, that's right.” Thin-lipped, Matthew bent down. “Let's see what the freak has to say."

  "No, Matthew! Don't!” They cried, but it was too late. He'd already tainted the evidence by grabbing the note. With the flick of his wrist, dirt fell to the floor and the paper unfolded.

  Roses are red and so is her dress, if you want Mandy back, then it's time to confess.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Confess?” Brielle repeated with a frown. These notes got weirder every time.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack turned to Matthew, his eyes narrowed. “Is there something you need to share?"

  "No!” Matthew shook his head, thrusting a hand through his hair. “I don't know what this means. He's nuts!"

  "Or she,” Jack stated, glancing around the foyer now filled with production crew. “Okay, this circus is hereby canceled. Everyone in the dining room, now!"

  Brielle strode into the room to extract the gun from her purse. This investigation just took a definite turn. It had gone from bothersome to dangerous. She reached the table and stopped dead.

  It was gone.

  Mandy's purse, Sophia's purse, and a frog-filled vase sat on the table ... but no sign of Brielle's gun-concealing purse.

  Don't panic, she told herself, and looked around as people filed into the room. Maybe the kitchen staff moved it when they cleared the plates from the table.

  "Rodriguez, I want this building secured. Got it?” She heard Jack bark while her eyes searched the floor for her purse. Maybe it had fallen.

  "Yes, sir!"

  "I want two men to stay here and guard this room; the rest will help search this house.” Jack spun around to include the production crew. “No one leaves!"

  Brielle swallowed, wondering how she should tell Jack about her gun. This created a dangerous complication.

  "I'm going with you,” Matthew stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Her mouth opened but Jack answered first. “No, you're not. You stay with the group under guard.” Jack cocked his head and glowered. “That's an order, Matthew. We don't know what we're dealing with other than someone obsessed with you."

  Matthew clenched his fists. “But I want to help find Mandy. Look, Jack, Brielle, I know I'm not qualified, but that girl means a lot to me, and if anything has happened to her because of me—"

  "Don't,” Brielle cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. “Don't even go down that road, Matthew. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me?” He nodded and looked at his shoes. “Listen to your brother. The sooner you're safe, the sooner we can start searching."

  She met Jack's gaze. He stared at her. Brielle held her breath. For a brief moment, she thought Jack was going to deny her permission to search, but he apparently realized he needed all the help he could get and nodded. She just hoped he felt that way when she told him about her missing gun.

  "All right,” Matthew said, lifting his gaze. “Please find her."

  "We will.” The confidence in Jack's voice even made a believer out of Brielle, and she knew their chances were only as good as the culprit would allow.

  Bill walked toward them. “Look, Jack, I understand, you're doing your job, but you have to understand, I need to do mine, too."

  "No."

  "Yes. Now, hear me out.” Bill's hands shot up in a stop position as Jack advanced. “Just take one cameraman with you, just one."

  "No. I don't have time to babysit your crew. We've got a girl missing, here,” Jack snapped, clenching his fists. “I don't give a—"

  "Jack.” Brielle stepped between them, not to save Bill, but to stop Jack from finishing his sentence. She completely agreed with him, but thought it best to interfere, knowing the cameras were still rolling. “We'll take one. We'll take Phil."

  "But—"

  She turned to Jack and shrugged. “You never know what they may catch.” And she didn't trust that cameraman. Better to have him near to keep an eye on him and far away from Matthew.

  Reluctance entered Jack's eyes. “Fine, just Phil, but I'm not responsible for his safety. The rest of you stay here and do as my men say.” Arms folded across his chest, his stance meant business, and Brielle's pulse jumped despite the dour circumstances.

  He looked so darn sexy taking charge with his firm voice and flashing eyes. She turned and strode into the kitchen to break that train of thought. Nodding to the men already investigating, she refocused and started searching for her purse. “Please be in here."

  "Do you always wish out loud in an investigation?” Jack asked from behind.

  She stiffened, then turned around. Please don't kill me. She swallowed. “Only when my gun turns up missing."

  His eyes narrowed. “Your gun is missing?” Deathly quiet, his tone sent shivers down her arms.

  "Yes."

  His palm smacked the counter. “How the hell could you let that happen?"

  All movement in the room ceased as his men looked in their direction.

  "I didn't let that happen,” she argued, drawing herself up to her full height. “I was forced to carry my Glock in—"

  "Glock?” he interrupted, then cursed when she nodded. “Why the hell couldn't you just be a contestant?"

  Her lips twitched. “Me? A little Miss Librarian from Maine?” She laughed. “Sorry, I'm a gun-toting security specialist with black belts in Tae Kwon Do and Kung Fu and a degree in Criminal Justice."

  Jack's brows rose and so did her temper when he spoke. “Then tell me how someone as smart as you could lose their gun?"

  She opened her mouth, then closed it and counted to ten. Now wasn't the time to speak her mind. They needed to find Mandy. “As I was explaining before you interrupted me, I normally strap my gun here.” She hiked up her skirt and pointed to her thigh.

  An appr
eciative gleam entered Jack's gaze before his mask of cool indifference fell into place along with her dress.

  "Get back to work,” he snapped at his men watching their exchange. “Haven't you ever seen a woman's leg before?” He turned back to her and sighed. “Look, Brielle, we're wasting time. Where are you going with this?"

  "I'm trying to tell you that whoever took my gun ... knew about it.” She watched him curse. “I never carry my weapon in a purse but was forced to tonight because my garter holster mysteriously vanished, hence the running of fingerprints from my dresser."

  "So you're saying someone who knows you use a thigh holster deliberately took it to get you to put your gun in a purse tonight?"

  "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying, Jack.” She stepped closer. “I came in here hoping that it had gotten cleared from the table with the plates, but as you can see, it hasn't.” She waved to their cold dinner littering the counter. “I just find it odd that mine's the only purse missing. Mandy's and your mother's are still on the table."

  Jack closed his eyes and groaned.

  "I think you'd better warn your men,” she said, fighting her trepidation.

  Opening his eyes, Jack pulled out his phone and spoke into the radio feature. “Be advised, perpetrator may be armed. Repeat, perpetrator may be armed."

  "Copy that,” crackled through several times.

  Jack slipped the phone into his pocket and turned to her. “Maybe you'd better stay with Matthew and my parents."

  She blinked, surprised by the concern in his voice and eyes. “No. I've got to find Mandy and my gun."

  "All right. Fine. Let's go. We've wasted too much time already,” he said, heading for the hall.

  "I know.” Keeping her anxiety for the blonde in check, she followed him from the kitchen. Worry for the victim had no place in this type of investigation. She needed a level head.

  "Rodriguez, what's the status?” Jack asked when they approached the man in the foyer.

  "Nothing so far, sir. We've got this floor covered and part of the west wing upstairs."

  Jack nodded. “We'll go up and start in the east wing. Keep me posted."

  "Yes, sir."

  Stopping in front of the first door in their hall, Jack motioned for her to go low. He went high and they burst into the room.

  Several minutes later, she let out a frustrated groan. They'd swept through five rooms already with no sign of the blonde. “Where can Mandy be?"

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know. But she's still in this house."

  "How do you know?” She moved toward him from the corner of the recreation room they were searching.

  "Because, the alarm is still on, and only I have the code to disarm it.” His chin rose. “That call I got earlier was from Rodriguez informing me the place was secured. So, I left the Gathering Room to reset the code, then came back."

  "And gave Mandy her second scr...” Brielle paused to clear her throat. “Drink."

  Jack's lips twitched. “Yes."

  "I hope she's okay, Jack.” Brielle closed her eyes and swallowed. “If anything happens to her with my gun...” Her voice trailed off, too sickened to continue.

  "Hey, look at me.” Warm fingers cupped her face. “She'll be fine."

  Brielle wanted to believe him, but knew the variables were too many. Anything could happen. “Thank you.” She touched his hand before he nodded and pulled away. “I can't believe I let myself be separated from my gun like some rookie.” She stomped to the door.

  "Don't be too hard on yourself,” Jack said, following her to the next room. “Seems to me someone knew exactly how to get your weapon."

  She stopped and shook her head. “That's what scares me. Who? I don't think the other contestants were aware I was packing a gun under my dresses on this show."

  "Hell, even I didn't know that.” He turned to her with a frown. “You didn't have one on the night we..."

  She swallowed. “I left it in my room before I snuck up to dance."

  "Oh.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Her breath caught. She longed to reach out and touch him—to clear the air, to taste him.

  "We need to keep searching.” He hastened to the next door.

  Swallowing down desire and disappointment, she discovered when mixed, they tasted bitter. She couldn't take much more of his swinging moods. They were hell on her already frayed emotions.

  "Ready?” He asked when she took up position next to him. “This is Matthew's make-shift studio."

  Nodding, she swept inside when he opened the door. Several unfinished paintings on easels met her gaze as she worked her way around the room. She marveled at Matthew's talent. Even unfinished, the paintings were incredible.

  "Wow, Matthew's something else,” she said, eyeing a portrait of Mandy. The love on the blonde's face and with which the portrait was painted, brought tears to Brielle's eyes. She blinked them away, then checked behind the long curtains adorning the windows. Nothing. She twisted around to survey the room and gasped at the lone painting in the back row.

  "That's ... us.” Her hand flew to her heart-filled throat.

  "What is it?” Jack rushed to her side. “Oh."

  Hot tears burned her eyes. Matthew had captured everything she'd felt for Jack. Everything. Brielle swiped at her wet cheeks and looked at Jack's painted face, longing to touch his portrait but didn't for fear the paint would smear.

  He held her in his arms and gazed down at her with all the passion that had flowed through them that night. She sniffed. That had been before she'd lost Jack's trust.

  "Brielle,” his hoarse voice shuddered through her.

  She didn't answer, didn't move—couldn't—until she collected herself.

  "Brielle,” he said again, stepping in front of her. His finger gently forced her to look up. “Is what Matthew painted ... true?"

  She blinked. “I ... what do you mean?"

  "Did you really feel that way about me?” His sapphire eyes searched hers, and she jumped at the chance to be honest with him.

  She touched his hand. “Yes. I never would've gotten involved with you if I hadn't or if I hadn't believed you felt the same way. Never!"

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. Taking a risk, she burrowed into him, then let out a small sob of relief when his arms closed around her.

  "I'm such a fool. I'm so sorry for doubting you—for not trusting you and my heart.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “It's just that I've been burned before, and trust is a big problem for me. Still, I should've trusted you. Can you forgive me?"

  She cupped his face. “Of course I forgive you.” Her smile spilled tears down her cheeks. “I know we should get back to work but I want you to know that I understand about the trust thing. Matthew told me about Caroline.” Her thumb skimmed his lip when he opened his mouth. “I had a similar experience with Brent.

  Jack stiffened, grabbing her hands. “Who's Brent?"

  "He's a jerk I foolishly got involved with on a somewhat similar case. Turns out he didn't care about me, only the combination to the jewel I had access to."

  "Then he was a jerk.” Jack wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close. “I can't believe he didn't realize you are the treasure."

  Another wave of tears rolled down her face. “That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.” She sniffed and held him tighter. “We've both been used, and that made us foolish. You were right. I should've told you my real identity. I'm so sorry."

  "No.” He shook his head and pulled away. “You were under orders, and I had no right to expect you to break them for me."

  "I should have."

  The lights went out, plunging them into darkness.

  "Shit, this isn't good.” Jack words echoed her thoughts. “Rodriguez? Rodriguez, are you there?” he said into the radio. The blue LCD face cast a small glow between them. “Rodriguez? Damn. Why isn't he answering?"

  "I don't like it.” Pulse thumping, she turned to where she'd las
t seen the cameraman. “Phil put your light on. I know you're operating off of a battery so we should be good."

  After a click, the room lit up. “I'd forgotten about that, Miss. Good thinking,” he said. “Now what?"

  "Now we go check on my family.” Jack grabbed her hand and they scrambled to the door. “Douse the light,” he called over his shoulder as they entered the hall.

  Giving their eyes a moment to adjust, they hurried to the stairs. The moon's soft glow spilled through the windows to reveal an empty foyer. She gave Jack the thumbs-up, and they scurried downstairs to his family. Stepping off the bottom step, she stilled when faint rustling sounds hit her ears.

  "Did you hear that?” He leaned in and whispered.

  "Yes, sounds like it's coming from the Gathering Room,” she replied in his ear and felt his roughened cheek brush hers in a nod. She slipped off her heels, then stealthily crossed the marbled floor, stopping outside the closed Gathering Room doors.

  "Briel—"a muffled cry came from inside.

  Her heart lurched. Damn it! I wish I had my gun.

  He stiffened and bent closer to whisper, “Once inside, you go left, I'll go right. Here, take my gun.” Cold steel touched her palm, but she shook her head.

  "No. I'll be all right. You keep it."

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “I don't need it. Honest."

  "Too bad. You're taking it,” he said, releasing the clip to check it. “Son-of-a-bitch."

  "What?"

  He gazed at the chamber. “It's empty."

  Her heart nearly pounded through her chest. “What is going on, Jack?"

  "I don't know, but I think it's high time we find out. You ready?” He searched her face for signs of reluctance.

  Brielle knew he wouldn't find any. She lifted her chin and nodded. “You bet."

  "Be careful and don't forget about the landing and stairs,” he reminded, holstering his gun.

  "Okay,” she whispered back, adrenaline rushing through her body. “On three. One. Two. Three."

  They opened the door and slipped inside the pitch-black room. Closed, the heavy drapes kept the moon's light outside. She couldn't see her own hands.