GRIPPED (Romance Mystery & Suspense Box Set)

by Abbott, Alex

  It was sound advice. And it made Jeremy doubt himself. He loved his brother. Truly, he did. Which left him standing there, his belly filled with bile, feeling both angry and disloyal at the same time. He didn’t want to suspect his brother of being capable of harming a woman. Truly, he didn’t.

  And maybe he wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t happened before…

  Chapter Three

  KATE

  I didn’t really suspect my stepbrother of having an affair with my mother, did I? Or worse…hurting her? Sure, there had always been rumors about the Kenyon brothers that they were both a little kinky—but wasn’t that the rumor about all billionaires? There was that time in boarding school where the paparazzi got a photo of Jeremy making out with two girls at the same time—but that’d seemed innocent enough. Alluring, actually. It gave Jeremy a kind of sexual mystique that had always made me want to ask him about it. But I never did, because I knew the photo had embarrassed His Lordship and, therefore, been a source of endless grief to Jeremy, who guarded his privacy more than ever.

  Jeremy wasn’t reckless. At least, I’d never known him to be. And there was nothing more reckless than having an affair with your own stepmother, was there?

  Besides, while searching the drawer that Jeremy had been crouched near, I found nothing. No cell phone. No diary. Nothing interesting but a pair of crotch less panties. Nice. If there was a goddamned cell phone or a scrap of evidence in this room, no one else was likely to have better luck finding it than me. So, returning to the closet to search hatbox after hatbox, I tried to remember everything my mother had ever told me about her jealously possessive lover and whether or not it matched up against Jeremy.

  Younger. Check. Hot. Check. But even after Jeremy’s behavior this afternoon, and his ridiculousness about the supposed inheritance I was due, I wasn’t sure it added up. Or maybe I just didn’t want it to add up.

  Because it was too horrible.

  Because the son of a billionaire is harder to convict of a crime than the pool boy. Because I’d always been attracted to Jeremy myself…I guess there were a thousand reasons I didn’t want it to be him. But what if it was?

  I could confront him about the affair, I thought after searching every expensive designer pocket book my mother owned—which was not a trivial number. Yes, I could confront him at least about that part. Jeremy wouldn’t have to know that I suspected him of more than sexual misconduct. Besides, he said he knew I was searching my mother’s room for something that would endanger my supposed inheritance. At the time, I’d supposed he was just spinning a crazy lie to cover his tracks, but that certainly called for a bit of interrogation, didn’t it?

  So, even though I was exhausted and emotionally strained, I girded my loins and took to the stairs to find him. Or maybe it’s because I was exhausted and emotionally strained that I went to find him. I was an American. A direct kind of girl, Jeremy had once said, almost as if he admired it. Well, he was about to get a face full of directness.

  “Ah, Miss Ashton,” the butler said, appearing from beneath an archway. “Did you have a good rest? I’d have sent up a spot of tea for you if you rang.”

  Was it tea time, already? Ordinary people in Britain just drank tea whenever they felt like it; hell, the royals probably didn’t even keep to some antiquated notion of teatime. But the Kenyons? Tea. Precisely four o’clock. Every day. And while the family didn’t sit around together chatting merrily—which would be way too normal—they did routinely swoop in on the spread.

  Strapping rich boys like Jeremy and his older brother Lane might shit gold, but they still had to eat. So that’s where I’d lay in wait for Jeremy, I decided. Right by the silver platter of scones.

  Which were delicious, actually, and I made a point of telling Albert so. “I’ll give your compliments to the kitchen, Miss Ashton,” he said, with a soft smile.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. I don’t even think I had a biscuit on the plane. Which was my excuse for stuffing myself with cinnamon scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam. And having to hurriedly wipe crumbs from my lips when my stepbrother walked into the tearoom.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the stepbrother.

  Lane Kenyon.

  Lane was almost as good looking as Jeremy, but older. And better mannered. Both of them had spent enough time in the states to have picked up American idioms, but the accents were all Brit. And posh. “Kate. I’m afraid you’ve taken us unawares. I thought we’d arranged a room at the—”

  “Your father said I could stay here,” I broke in, not wanting to have the argument all over again. “In my mother’s room.”

  Lane paled a little. “Is that a good idea? Given the circumstances, I mean.”

  “I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

  And I wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Only psychopaths…

  Lane poured himself some tea from the silver urn without waiting for Albert to return and do it for him. But he looked uncomfortable doing something so bourgeois. Or maybe the discomfort was with my presence in his tearoom. “Kate, I’m—I’m very—you have my condolences on your mother.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my lower lip wobbling a bit with emotion I couldn’t allow myself to feel yet. So I took a sip of tea to disguise it. “Listen, your brother and I had a very interesting conversation about inheritances,” I said, deciding to go balls to the wall in the hopes of shaking the truth out of someone in this house. “He claims that I am owed one. But that it might be endangered somehow.”

  Lane’s fingers tightened on his teacup so that I thought he might snap it. And I realized almost at once that I’d made a mistake in bringing this up. It sounded crass. That it looked opportunistic and cold. My mother wasn’t even in her grave yet…

  Lane’s eyes narrowed a bit as if I had confirmed his every suspicion about grasping, gold-digging Americans. “Interesting,” Lane said. But that’s all he said about it. “I advise you to steer clear of my brother while you’re here.”

  Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “Why?”

  What’s wrong with him? Is he a crazy psychopath?

  Lane swallowed, but his expression was stone. “Well, you see, you’re very much entitled to an inheritance. I don’t begrudge you, though it comes out of our family estate. I am of the opinion that I can always earn more money. But my brother is…”

  “Possessive?” I suggested, helpfully.

  “Greedy,” is what he replied. Which seemed an astonishing thing for one brother to say about another. And while I sat there in a bit of shock, he hastened to add, “Which is why you should have very little to do with him while you’re here. He is…well, I’m sure he’s looking for any opportunity to compromise your inheritance. Don’t give it to him.”

  I didn’t care about the inheritance. Well, that’s not entirely true. I was starting to care a little bit about it. Enough to be curious. Just how much money were we talking about that it should irritate the Kenyon brothers for me to inherit it? “What sort of opportunities…”

  Lane frowned. “Well. That’s for a solicitor to explain to you. You should probably hire one.”

  Great. I’d get right on that. After I found my mother’s killer.

  Lane cleared his throat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable at a hotel? I wouldn’t want Jeremy to bother you.”

  “Jeremy doesn’t bother me,” I said, which wasn’t really true. My attraction to Jeremy had been a source of angst for years. Now it was my suspicion that bothered me.

  “Well.” Lane cleared his throat again, stirring lumps of sugar into his tea. “The sooner the funeral is done with the better. I’m told you’ll be giving the eulogy. I’m sure that will be quite nice.”

  I nearly snorted. Nice? I had no idea what I was going to say at my mother’s funeral. No idea at all. But I guessed a lot of it was going to depend on what I found out here in this house. Fishing for information, I said, “I was wondering if you or your brother might be willing to do a reading. Were either
of you closer to her than the other?”

  I admit, it was strange the way Lane’s eyes slid away from mine. “I assume Jeremy must have been, since I’m rarely here.”

  Those words made sense—Lane was the heir apparent to the Kenyon fortune and was already running several of his father’s companies—but he’d told me nothing useful. And then he neatly chopped off the line of inquiry by asking, “I’m sure my father must have made these arrangements already, no?”

  Before I could reply, Jeremy walked in.

  Chapter Four

  JEREMY

  Goddamn it. Hadn’t Jeremy just tell his brother to stay away from Kate? And yet, here Lane was, taking tea with their stepsister, wearing the inscrutable expression that Jeremy never knew whether to trust.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Jeremy said, oozing frustration at his older brother. He pointedly, did not look at Kate. He didn’t want to get caught up in those beautiful eyes of hers. He didn’t want to think about how those curvy hips of hers might feel under his hands. Because usually when he thought those kinds of thoughts, his mind turned to seduction. A thing he was brilliant at. A thing he could not—should not—even contemplate when it came to Kate. So he kept his eyes on the scones.

  Kate plainly took his attitude for coldness or flippancy and snapped, “Your brother was just telling me more about this supposed inheritance of mine.”

  Jeremy’s stomach twisted at that. He didn’t want Lane talking to Kate at all—not given what he suspected of his brother—but especially not about money. Especially not about the reason she might not get any. Especially not when it was likely to upset the old man and bring the past out into the open in the most painful way possible. Then again, why would Lane risk that if he was guilty?

  Wouldn’t he want to keep it quiet?

  Jeremy was starting to doubt himself. After all, what kind of brother can’t forgive a twenty-five year old crime? Was he legitimately suspicious of Lane or was this just a childhood vendetta? Fuck. Jeremy took a scone, poured some tea. “I realize that I brought it up, but in hindsight—”

  “That’s what you were searching for in my mother’s room?” Kate asked, interrupting. “Some proof that would help invalidate my inheritance?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said. No, he thought. That’s not what he was looking for. Or at least not why he was looking for it. If the world found out that Gloria had taken a lover, it would invalidate Kate’s inheritance, but that’s not what Jeremy wanted.

  He just wanted justice for yet another woman who might have been murdered in this house….

  Or maybe he was just so fucked up after all these years he still couldn’t let go of the past. To get hold of himself, and impose the self-control and distance he was famous for, Jeremy tapped a spoon on the table. “I’m not sure it’s a wise idea for any of us to be talking about it. Especially now. It’s likely disrespectful.”

  Lane started to say something, but was cut off by the ring of his phone. The call must have been urgent, because after casting a baleful glance at Jeremy, Lane stalked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. And that should’ve been a relief.

  Would’ve been, actually, if Jeremy wasn’t so aware of the danger being alone with Kate presented in terms of keeping his cool. When it came to women, Jeremy was always in control. Always careful. Always guarded. But Kate was the sort of girl one couldn’t easily hold at a distance. The kind of direct, authentic girl that any less philosophical man might fall in love with.

  But love…well…love was a dangerous thing, wasn’t it? The most dangerous fucking thing on the planet.

  “What are you staring at?” Kate asked.

  Having been snapped back to his senses by her question, Jeremy said, “I—I really don’t know.”

  “So why didn’t you think it was disrespectful to talk about an inheritance when you brought it up?” Kate asked. “But now you do.”

  “I’m sorry. For before, in your mother’s bedroom, Kate. Truly, I am. You startled me and I reacted poorly.”

  “You don’t get off that easy. I want to know what you meant and why you think it’s so disrespectful now.”

  Bloody hell, she was a bulldog. It was something he normally admired about her, but it was quite frustrating at present. Jeremy’s eyes slid to the hallway to ensure they were alone, and then his voice lowered. “Because it isn’t nice to speak ill of the dead, Kate. And if you make me go down this path of inquiry, then I must discuss with you the fact that your mother was unfaithful to my father. And if that comes out—”

  “How do you know she was unfaithful?” Kate asked, eyes blazing. “Were you fucking her?”

  Jeremy had been just about to take a swallow of tea. Now he almost spit it all over the table. Then he felt his mouth quirk up at the corner, as if he couldn’t decide whether he was disgusted or amused by the accusation. “You think I was having an affair with Gloria?”

  “She was a beautiful woman,” she said, as if trying to bait him.

  And it was working. Gloria was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Kate. Which is why he said—more to remind himself than to explain— “I wouldn’t sleep with even a beautiful woman.”

  Kate’s eyes flew wide at that, in total shock. And it actually took Jeremy a moment to realize why.

  “Holy shit,” she said, sputtering. “Is my gaydar broken? I’ve never seen you connected with any woman seriously but—”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “I’m not gay,” Jeremy snapped, only because there was something inherently irritating about having to confirm his interest to the woman he most desired. He broke off the end of his scone, contemplatively, wondering if he ought to elaborate. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But under Kate’s scrutiny, he couldn’t help himself. “I certainly have sex with women. I just meant that I don’t have sex with a woman.”

  She squinted. “What’s with the word games? Now you’re just screwing with me.”

  Jeremy nearly sighed, feeling exposed—a feeling he hated more than anything. This was a conversation he might have with lovers. A conversation he might have with his closest friends. A conversation he once had—extremely awkwardly—with Lane.

  He didn’t know how to have it with Kate.

  So he wouldn’t. “I wasn’t your mother’s lover. That’s all you need to know, as I take it that my sex life isn’t relevant to you beyond that.”

  With that, he fell into full retreat, standing up from the table and starting to walk out. But Kate was on his heels. “Don’t walk away after spouting a bunch of total nonsensical gibberish unless you want me to think you’re an unbelievable asshole.”

  That’s not what he wanted. He wanted her. More than that, he wanted her safe even if it meant pushing her away from the Kenyon family dysfunction and his role in it.

  So he just kept walking through the cavernous wallpapered hall, filled with velvet seats until she demanded to know, “Just where are you going?”

  “To the pool. For a swim. It’s important to keep stress low in times of mourning.” Jeremy said it reflexively, because sarcasm was always what he retreated to in times of stress. It kept people at a distance.

  But it clearly enraged Kate, who gave him a thump in the middle of his back just as they passed through the doors into the empty poolroom. “Are you actually taunting me about my dead mother?”

  Her question echoed off the tiles and stung him more than the scent of chlorine in his nostrils. He turned in the shadow of the unlit poolroom, nearly sick with embarrassment. He was handling this wrong. Handling her wrong. “Oh, bloody hell. I’m sorry, Kate. Truly. I lost a mother too, long ago. I know that it hurts, and I didn’t mean to add more pain onto what you’re already suffering.”

  “Well, you did,” she said, her amazing eyes welling with rage and tears both. Tears that he wanted to soothe. How he wished he could reach out to her and hug her. Comfort her in some way.

  But she was tough. She held back those tears, then made them dry up even befor
e she stood up taller to say, “My mother is dead and I deserve answers. So when I ask questions, do the courtesy of answering me honestly. If you’re going to deny having an affair with my mother, then don’t jack me around with bullshit riddles.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, again, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to be mysterious. It’s just that my sex life is complicated and not at all relevant to this inquiry.”

  She stared at him in challenge. “Complicated how.”

  She wanted him to prove something to her. But she also seemed curious. Maybe even interested. A brooding billionaire with a complicated sex life was catnip to women—maybe it was catnip to Kate. Or perhaps that was just his wishful thinking.

  Jeremy sighed, sinking down into a pool chair. “Listen. When you grow up a Kenyon, it’s best not to get too closely involved with any one person. I learned that lesson the hard way. So you develop coping strategies. Lane has his. I have mine. And when it comes to sex, my way of keeping it sane is that I just never do it one-on-one.”

  She tilted her head. Possibly interested. But definitely bewildered. “What do you mean, you never do it one-on-one. Are you saying that unless it’s an orgy you’re not interested?”

  Jeremy risked a glance up at her. This is normally where he’d reach for a woman’s wrists and stare into her eyes, gauging her interest by the heat of her skin and the tempo of her pulse. Where he’d pull a woman down with him, and drop his voice an octave, teasing her with forbidden thoughts until she was wet and wanting and desperate to have him, even if it meant involving another woman. But under the circumstances, and given the woman he was talking to, that wasn’t an option. Kate had asked him a question and she was still waiting for an answer, so he tried to give it to her as honestly as he could. “This is normally where I’d tell a joke about too many moving parts in an orgy, but I can see that now isn’t the time for humor. I prefer threesomes.”