Tri Me (Primrose, Minnesota, Book 4)

by Mia Dymond

  “Besides,” Dara continued, “you wouldn’t be so agreeable about calling him if you didn’t.”

  Dara was good. Real good.

  Still, she stood behind her reserve. “I suppose I could just file a police report.”

  “Yeah, let me know how that works for you.” Dara cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West as she gestured with her head across the lot. “I’m parked over there. Give me a minute then lead the way.”

  Once seated in her car behind tinted windows and locked doors, Alex managed to relax somewhat as she grasped the steering wheel with one hand and jammed the key into the ignition and turned it with the other. As the engine roared to life, she gazed out the windshield into the dark Minnesota sky and tossed her decision to call Jackson back and forth in her mind. Detective or not, the sexy, dark-haired knight wouldn’t hesitate to come to her defense with his steel sword poised to kill – and what an impressive sword he sported.

  That thought made her pause. Since when did she ever refer to Jackson as sexy? More importantly, what did his sword have to do with anything? She released a long, irritated sigh and shook her head as if worms squirmed in her ears. At least she hadn’t voiced the thought aloud when Dara interrogated her.

  She had been totally honest when she agreed with Dara about seeking his help. Even so, there were things about him her girls did not know; things she was not ready to disclose.

  The sound of a honking horn caused her to jump as she glanced into her rearview mirror. Bright headlights nearly blinded her as they flashed from low to high several times. Her cell phone rang.

  With shaking hands she palmed the phone, immensely relieved to see Dara’s number displayed on the screen. She barely had a chance to connect the call before her friend spoke.

  “Get the lead out! There’s a killer loose!”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” she mumbled.

  “Any time. Now, let’s go!”

  Alex disconnected and tossed the phone back into the passenger seat, annoyed that she’d allowed this anonymous she-devil to toy with her emotions. No way would it happen again. She refused to become a victim and if her stalker had a problem with that, Alex wouldn’t hesitate to show her just how very good she was at proving a point. She’d aced Intimidation 101 and the numerous people who attempted to cross her could vouch for her expertise. No, psycho-woman didn’t stand a chance.

  She shifted the car into gear and then drove out of the parking lot with Dara’s car almost glued to her bumper. Thankfully, the three-minute drive took just that and she parked in the driveway, safe and sound. She left the car to see Dara parked at the curb in front with the driver’s window down.

  “I’ll watch you go inside. Do you have your phone in your hand?”

  She held up her hand to show her friend that, yes, the phone was present.

  “What about your stun gun?”

  “Dara, please.” She released a hearty laugh. “You’ve done way too much research.”

  The petite brunette shook her head while her green eyes glowed. “Nuh-huh. Get the weapon, Alex.”

  Knowing that her friend happened to be almost as stubborn as she, Alex reached into her purse, branded the weapon and then activated the charge. The rapid succession of click-click-click filled the silence that surrounded them.

  “Good.” Dara nodded at the house. “Call me from inside.”

  “Dara—”

  “Or I’ll call Jackson myself.”

  “Okay, okay.” Alex raised her hands in surrender then turned and walked the distance from the driveway to the front door. The absolute last thing she needed was an angry Jackson and his posse of testosterone-driven alpha minions knocking down her front door, demanding an explanation of why she wasn’t the one to make the call.

  She jammed her key into the lock and pushed open the door, the comforting ringing of the alarm system welcoming her home. She punched in the security code to quiet the alarm, closed the door, engaged the deadbolt, and dialed Dara.

  “I’m in, Tonto.”

  Her friend’s giggle provided even more comfort. “Okay, Lone Ranger. Call Jackson. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  Alex disconnected the call and then slid a finger across the phone’s screen to locate Jackson’s number. Her finger shook slightly as she held it just above the digits. Maybe she could get around Dara’s threat – surely the other woman wouldn’t call Jackson just to make sure she followed through. Would she? She scoffed at that ridiculous thought; of course Dara would rat her out. With good intentions, of course.

  With a hard sigh, she pressed the link for Jackson’s number and waited for him to answer.

  “Stewart.”

  “Jackson, I need help.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes Jackson, it’s Alex. Do I need to formally introduce myself next time?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been marked for murder.”

  ***

  She tapped her freshly-manicured fingernails against the steering wheel, angry that an opportunity to confront her target had evaded her yet again. She didn’t expect girls’ night out to end earlier than usual. Impatience made her tap harder. Previous observation revealed Alex led a rather boring life, Thursday nights at Hannigan’s the obvious highlight. So, how did the crafty witch manage a secret rendezvous?

  She squeezed the wheel harder with both hands. Although the answer wasn’t entirely clear, evidence proved Alex was a participant in the sordid love triangle. It had actually been quite easy to discover her identity; the numerous phone calls provided just the information she needed. One short search on Google and an anonymous phone call of her own gave her an arsenal of ammunition. Yet, rather than charge in like a raging bull, she decided to use a different strategy. Wait her out.

  Alex wouldn’t win this time. No, she’d worked too long and hard to cement her current position and Alex was far from woman enough to take it away. She glanced out the windshield at the two women walking across the parking lot and swallowed the bad taste in her mouth. Alex had managed one more night of freedom but time was ticking and the odds were not in her favor.

  ***

  Jackson parked his truck alongside Alex’s car in the driveway, practically sprinted to the front door, and came to a screeching stop seconds before she opened the door.

  “Nice of you to run right over,” she drawled as she gestured him inside with a shaking hand.

  He pushed the door closed then pulled her into his arms and trapped her in the depths of his embrace.

  “Jackson, what are you doing?” She wiggled in his hold, her words muffled against his chest.

  “Comforting you.”

  “Turn me loose before you need comfort.”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  He squeezed her against him, fully anticipating an argumentative struggle. Instead, she released a heavy sigh and gave him the requested time – just barely.

  She finally slipped out of his trap and glared. “Feel better?”

  “No.” He sat in a nearby recliner with his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled. “Explain.”

  “I’m not sure it’s worth explaining.”

  “You mentioned murder, Alex.”

  “My mistake,” she mumbled.

  He simply leaned back against the cushioned pillow and waited. He knew better. Alex wouldn’t have summoned him out of error. No, she’d thought twice, three times, and maybe even four before she called.

  “How about a beer?” she said finally.

  He gave a slight nod of agreement and practiced patience. She would crack, but only on her terms. She gave him one last green-eyed glare before she turned and left the room. He smirked. Her aggravation was directed at herself just as much as at him.

  In less than a minute she returned and handed him a cold bottle.

  “Thanks.” He took a long swallow while she sat on the sofa and lifted a wine glass. He watched as she drew the liquid across her lips and then swallowed before resting the
glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “I’ve received some strange voicemail messages.”

  “Some?”

  “Three.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Someone wants to kill me.”

  Incredible fear settled in his gut. Alex Jennings was not a typical panicky female; if what she claimed was true, she was in serious danger. “Who?”

  “I have no idea.” She grabbed her cell phone from the coffee table and handed it to him. “I saved them. I’m sure you know how to access the mailbox.”

  He took the phone from her and punched the appropriate numbers until the first message played. His stomach churned as he listened and by the end of the third, his beer didn’t interest him. “You don’t recognize the voice?”

  She shook her head in the negative.

  “When did you get the last one?”

  “This morning.”

  “Did you file a police report?”

  “No. The only other people I’ve told are Dara, Reagan, Annie, Marnie, Bri, and Liberty.”

  “Of course.”

  “Dara has a contact who can help her track a phone call.”

  Hell. He almost groaned out loud. The absolute last thing he needed was those six woman in the middle of this investigation. He disconnected and handed the phone back to her. “Forward those to my voicemail.”

  She smirked while she pushed a series of buttons and then placed the phone back on the table.

  “Meanwhile,” he continued, “you need to stay put until I figure this out.”

  “Hide? No! I’ll just lie low.”

  “Not an option. She knows who you are. You’re not safe anywhere you go.”

  “Look, I appreciate your concern but if I only leave the house for court, I’ll be fine. The courthouse is secure and I have an alarm.”

  “It’s a little hard to travel incognito in a white Mercedes with a license plate that reads TRI ME.”

  “I’ll hire a driver.”

  “How do you plan to dodge a bullet you never see coming?”

  “She has to find me first.”

  “You admitted you don’t know who she is so it seems to me the odds are stacked against you.”

  “Don’t attempt to scare me, Jackson.”

  He shrugged and squeezed his hands into fists to keep from throttling her. “Those are the cold, hard facts, counselor.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “I won’t leave the house.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I won’t put anyone else in danger.” She rubbed both hands across her forehead. “Besides, these calls may be her idea of a sick sort of practical joke.”

  “This is no joke, Alex.”

  “And I’m not laughing. Believe me, I’m a little shaken by all this but I won’t let her control me. The best I can do is agree to camp out here until you have more information.”

  Although he realized her plan of action wasn’t the most logical, he also knew he couldn’t change her mind. And using brute force would only cause someone to get hurt – namely him.

  “You’ll only leave for court.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Get over it.” Her trademark eyeroll did little to dissuade him. If she even had a hint of how those deep, sparkling pools stroked his libido, she’d make it a point to keep them closed.

  “To and from the courthouse,” he reiterated. “And I’ll hire the car.”

  “Yes, Jackson, I agreed. Now please go catch a stalker so you can mind your own business.”

  He smirked and stood. “You wish.”

  “You really need to leash that thing,” she mumbled as she stood and led him to the door. She stopped with her hand on the knob. “You’re going to involve everyone now, aren’t you?”

  “Have to. We’re a team now.”

  “How much are you going to tell them?”

  “Remind me again why we’re keeping our relationship a secret.”

  “Because up until recently, I defended the criminals you arrested. We decided that might be an issue.”

  “True. But since we’re not on opposite teams anymore, I guess it depends.”

  “On?”

  He stepped close and cupped her chin. “If you’re a good girl and do as I say, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  Her lips split into a sex-kitten smile and she raised an eyebrow. “And if I’m bad?”

  Damn. Of course she’d call his bluff. The tiny witch had his heart in her grasp and knew exactly how to make it pound.

  Rather than answer her question, incredible desire fueled him to lower his head and press his lips to hers in what he intended to be a silent ultimatum. Instead, her lips opened and good intentions went south – deep south. His cock rose in the heated space between their bodies as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers. His hand left her chin to caress one side of her face while his lips continued to seek the sweet satisfaction of her kiss. A breathy gasp left her throat and she pressed her hips to his groin. He moved both hands to weave his fingers through her hair at the sides of her head and pull her almost impossibly closer. Not half an inch remained between them, the heat devouring both bodies with the same flame. Sweat droplets danced at his hairline as he reluctantly ended the kiss and moved his hands to her hips.

  “You’d challenge the devil himself.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  He shook his head. “Fat chance.”

  “You know this is going on the list, don’t you?”

  He frowned. “What list?”

  “The list. I’m keeping a running tab of every time you annoy me.”

  He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. “What do you intend to do with it?”

  “I’ll figure out something.”

  Still amused, he gave her a wink. “If protecting you from a crazed stalker annoys you, I’m willing to accept the consequences.” He opened the door. “Lock up. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  Jackson waited on the other side of the door until he heard the click of the lock and the four telltale beeps of the alarm system before he walked double time to his truck and climbed inside. He snickered as he reached between his legs and made a quick adjustment. Smart women made him hard – crazy hard.

  She had this uncanny knack of using both her intelligence and confidence as an amazingly effective weapon and he’d witnessed it firsthand, both in the courtroom and out. Just the minute her opponent became confident in defeating her, Alex batted those long, sexy, eyelashes, shaped those pouty lips in a villain-like smile, spouted several matter-of-fact sentences, and then went in for the kill. Right for the jugular. Undisputable victory every single time.

  Sometimes, though, her intelligence annoyed the hell out of him. Especially when she used it against him. Damn, he respected her. Hell, he loved her.

  Too bad he was sworn to secrecy.

  He released a heavy sigh as he glanced in his rearview mirror before he backed down the driveway and made the drive to Recovery Specialists, Inc. Catching this stalker would be a jagged, complicated game. In fact, loving Alex was the only uncomplicated piece of the puzzle. Although he refused to admit defeat, he’d play by her rules for now, especially if it shortened the list.

  He shook his head as he pulled into a vacant space in front of the office, both relieved and apprehensive to see three of his teammate’s vehicles already parked. Adrenaline raced through his veins, both from the severity of the situation and from the chemistry he and Alex shared. Self-control was vital – for Alex’s sake as well as his.

  Once he stood outside the door, he drew a deep, calming breath, squared his shoulders, and then stepped inside.

  “What the hell took so long, Stewart?”

  His nerves wiggled at Ryker’s demanding tone, booming from an office down the hall. If the other man had even a remote idea of what he’d gone through when questioning
Alex Jennings, he would have swallowed his tongue.

  “Difficult witness,” he mumbled. “Did someone bring Mace?” He walked the distance to a meeting room not too many steps away, his question answered when he saw his partner leaned back in a recliner with his injured leg propped on an ottoman. Jake and Ryker occupied the nearby sofa.

  “Jake came by after you bailed.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m thinking not.” The other man grinned. “You took off like a bat outta hell.”

  His arms began to tingle with itchy nerves he would have liked to attribute to anxiety over the threat on Alex’s life. Yet however concerned as he truly felt, that wasn’t entirely the reason. Careful not to spout a hasty confession, he swallowed before he answered. “She said murder, Turner. Last time I checked, that’s no reason for hesitation.”

  “So fill us in.”

  “Alex has received a threat on her life.” He accessed his voicemail, laid the phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and then pressed the speakerphone button so the messages were broadcast loud and clear. With energy to burn, he paced while the messages played.

  “Not much to go on.” Ryker leaned forward to disconnect the service then scrubbed a hand down the side of one jaw. “Unless …”

  Jackson stopped in mid-step. “Unless what?”

  “I have a contact that can scan it for voice recognition, but it won’t do any good if our suspect’s never been arrested.”

  Mace nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

  The distinct snap of Jake’s bottle cap filled the silence as he opened a beer and took a long draw. “I agree. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Mace grabbed his crutches and pulled himself to stand. “Anybody else need a beer while I’m up?”

  “I’ll get them,” Jackson said. “I’m already up.”

  Mace shook his head. “So am I. I need to move before my leg cramps.”

  “I’ll take one.” Ryker crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table.

  “Me too,” Jackson added, pacing again.

  “What is it with your women anyway?” Ryker smirked. “They just can’t stay out of trouble.”