Fearsome Foursome

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Fearsome Foursome Page 20

by Pierce, Nicolette


  “Well, Sandy is at home. The doctor came to see her and gave her a stronger dose of the sedative to allow her to sleep.”

  “And Wade?”

  “The police have him. They have my statement and Hank’s. I think they talked to Aly too. I’m sure they’ll want to speak with Sandy, but she’s not up for it yet. Maybe in time she will be.” Ida fiddled with the mug, swirling the coffee. “Hank said he’d go to therapy with Sandy. Said he might need it too after all this. I said I would join them.”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  She shrugged. “It’s hard to know you failed your kid. All these years, wasted. For all of us. She was a smart kid. She could have done something with her life. It’s my fault she can’t step outside the house without crying.”

  “Ida, it’s not your fault. It’s Wade’s fault.”

  “All this time I felt guilty for killing him; now I wish I had done it better.” She shook her head. “And what gets me the most is that I almost feel sorry for him.”

  “Because he had to leave his wife behind?” I asked.

  “He didn’t have a choice. She was caught in a battle and died. She was carrying their son at the time. Hank said Wade had to take heavy doses of medication when he returned to the states and that sometimes drinking would counteract. Hank never realized the extent that Wade suffered. He always came around happy.”

  “Maybe drinking was the way he tried to cope, just like you,” I said, nodding to Ida’s purse, the cap of her flask sticking out.

  “Nothing in there,” she said. “I’ve kind of lost the taste for the stuff.”

  Mrs. Janowski sat a coffee cup down in front of me and took the chair between us.

  I sipped the coffee, thanking her for the heavenly liquid that helped boost my brain into functioning gear. Then, I remembered Jack.

  I set the cup down. “Have you seen Jack? How is he? Is his arm okay?”

  “He’s fine. I picked him up from the hospital this morning.”

  “Did he tell you what happened?” I asked. “Did he tell you about the gas station?”

  “What about the gas station?”

  “It was on fire.”

  Mrs. Janowski nodded. “It was on the news this morning. Apparently, some drunk schmuck pulled out of the station with the gas pump still running and tossed his cigarette out the window. It was all caught on a security camera across the street.”

  “It wasn’t Jack?” I asked, relieved.

  “Of course not,” Ida said.

  “When he took off down the path, then the station was on fire. I leapt to conclusions.”

  “No,” Ida said. “He didn’t do it, but I wouldn’t blame him if he did.”

  “I wouldn’t either,” I said. “I just didn’t want him to go to jail for it. Did he seem okay this morning?”

  “Upset still, but he’ll survive.”

  “I wish I could help.”

  Ida smiled and patted me on the hand. “You did. You all did.”

  “I have a feeling something good will come from this,” Mrs. Janowski said. “We have a duty to protect our young women. And right now, I need help with one in particular.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Emmy.”

  “Emmy? What about her?”

  Mrs. Janowski motioned for me to follow her. She led the way upstairs and swung open the guest bedroom door to reveal a haggard Emmy, passed out in bed. Her hair, matted. Her outfit, stained by unknown sources. Her odor, well past expiration.

  I covered my nose with one hand and poked her with the other. “Emmy, wake up.”

  “Wha’?” she said, her eyes still closed as she swatted my hand away.

  “Time to go home.”

  “I don’t want to. I like it here.”

  I took a handheld mirror off the dresser and stuck it in front of her. “Look at yourself and tell me it’s not time to go home.”

  She cracked her eyes open and blinked herself into focus. Sitting ramrod straight, she shrieked and grabbed the mirror. “Oh, I’m hideous,” she cried. “I can never go home.”

  “I’ll get her breakfast,” Mrs. Janowski said. “You get her out of bed and washed.”

  I tried not to wince, but Emmy looked like an all-day project.

  Taking the mirror away, I pulled her from the bed. “We’ll have you looking like a princess and then take you home.”

  “Really?”

  I didn’t want to lie, but for the sake of moving her along, I did. There was no way I could help her hair. It’d take a day at the salon.

  And then I smiled. This was right up Kym’s alley.

  * * *

  It was nearing lunch and Kym had already taken charge of Emmy. I was free and hungry, yet I didn’t want to eat. I just needed something to do. Something that would take my mind off the past few days, of Brett leaving me to go back to the office or to Cinnamon. So, in my melancholy state, I drove over to Rand’s to see if there were samples I could look at or contractors I could call. What I didn’t expect was for Emily to answer the door.

  “Emily, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Damn it, Emily,” Rand bellowed from somewhere inside. “What in the hell are these goddamn pink things on my bed?”

  “They’re pillows, you Neanderthal!” She turned and charged inside the apartment. “Don’t you dare move them.”

  “I already did!” he shouted.

  She let out a shriek. “You threw them away.”

  “It’s either me or the pillows.”

  “I choose the pillows!”

  “Good. Then they can keep you satisfied at night, because I’m getting the hell out.”

  “Yeah? Well, the pillows offer a hell of a lot more than you do.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who came slinking over here in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the damn pillows that kept you coming back.”

  “It wasn’t you either.”

  “Then who? I don’t see anyone else here.”

  “You’re such a jerk.”

  “I’m the jerk? Who’s the one who let you stay here with no questions asked?”

  “You didn’t have to ask. I gave you exactly what you wanted.”

  “You gave me a muzzle? Because that’s what I really want right now.”

  I took a step back from the door. They were obviously busy.

  “You didn’t want a muzzle last night when I—” Emily squealed, and then it became silent.

  Well, either he killed her or they were doing things that I didn’t want to begin to think about.

  I reached in and closed the door so no one else had to hear. And to think I had slept in that bed. Ugh.

  The need for another shower was strong.

  With a resolved sigh, I plopped in my car and headed home. I probably wouldn’t hear from Rand for a while, and even if I did, I didn’t think I could talk to him without getting queasy. However, at least the mystery was solved of where Emily was staying. So was the case of the missing laptop. When I had closed their door, I noticed it on the card table in the kitchen. I was not willing to retrieve it.

  I tried not to think about the wasted trip on my way back home. I tried not to think about a lot of things. I wanted my head void of everything. Only daisies and puppies were allowed in.

  When I pulled into the drive, a mail carrier had just delivered the mail and then whisked down the road to the next house. I opened the mailbox, remembering I had neglected it for a couple days. The box was filled with bills and junk and . . .

  A letter from court.

  I ripped open the envelope to find a confirmation of a set court date for two weeks from today. The remnants of the Waterloo battle. Suddenly, I knew exactly what would keep me occupied for the afternoon.

  Finding a lawyer.

  Hopefully one that I could afford.

  A sleek black Viper pulled into my driveway. Yet another thing I hadn’t been expecting to see today.


  I watched as Brett eased out of the car and walked toward me with my blanket in hand. “Thank you for not letting me freeze last night,” he said with a cautious smile that I wanted to return but wasn’t willing to.

  I took the blanket from him, crumpling my mail in the process. He angled his head to see what I was holding.

  “A letter from court?” He looked up at me.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He saw beyond my lie. “I got an odd call the other day.”

  “How odd?” I asked, thankful he switched the subject.

  “It seems a paintball facility needs security,” he said, watching for a reaction. I did my best to keep an unaffected countenance. “The owner said a bunch of seniors wrecked the place.”

  “High school students can be very destructive,” I said.

  “Yes, I thought students as well until he said the ring leader was eighty-something. What I want to know is who was wearing a red and purple-plum cape?”

  “He described the cape?”

  “Apparently, he has footage. I was going to review it with him. What do you think I’ll see?”

  “Emmy was wearing the cape,” I said, giving up the fight when I knew I was beat. “Mrs. Janowski insisted on it.”

  He nodded. “I rather thought that. Dishcloth, right?”

  “Yes. It was a perfect size for Emmy.”

  “Well, I took care of it. You don’t have to worry about your court date. He’s dropping the charges.”

  “Really?”

  “I threw in three months of free security and a guarantee that Mrs. Janowski and her hooligans will never step foot on his property again.”

  “Mrs. J won’t be happy to hear that.”

  “She can find another place to wreak havoc.”

  “Most likely your office.”

  “Most likely.”

  We stared at each other for a moment. I didn’t want to bring up the subject of Cinnamon, but I knew it had to happen eventually.

  “Emily told me what you did to get the security guards trained and hired,” he said.

  “That doesn’t sound like something Emily would say.”

  “I read between the lines.” He took the bundle from my arms and headed for the house. “Emmy is also resuming her position as receptionist with a pay raise. I just spoke to her on the phone. We were going to give her a raise before she quit, but somehow the paperwork disappeared.”

  I followed him up to the porch. “Did you fire Emily?”

  “No.”

  “Aren’t you afraid they’ll start fighting again?”

  “Not really. They’re both valuable in their positions, and I think they know that now.”

  “Both? As in Emmy and Emily?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, even Emily. She can be a hard pill to swallow, but she’s good at managing the office and doesn’t let anyone push her around. However, she makes a terrible first impression, which is why Emmy is so important. They balance each other.”

  Hence Em and Em. Maybe things would work out.

  Brett opened the door, triggering the alarm. I hurried over and silenced it.

  “You installed an alarm?” He looked around the room. “Did I miss something?”

  “A lot. But I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  He closed the door and set the bundle off to the side. “But I sense there is something you’d like to talk about.”

  “Not really.”

  “Not even Cinnamon.”

  I cringed at how her name curled around his tongue. While I knew her name was fake, it wasn’t as ridiculous sounding as Mars.

  “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “Why was she sleeping in your office and then at your cabin? And why in the hell was she only wearing your shirt?”

  “Fair questions. I would’ve explained had you stayed and listened.”

  “I’m listening now.”

  “She’s popular at the club and found that she had a stalker. She requested help from us. T and I agreed that she’d be okay at the office with the security alarm until we found a safe house for her. The only place I could find on short notice was my cabin, which I didn’t want to use but didn’t really have a choice. I stayed there one night with her until the alarm could be installed. I slept on the couch,” he said, stressing that point.

  “And the shirt?”

  “She said she didn’t own pajamas, and I didn’t want her walking around naked. I only had my shirt that I could give her.”

  “You didn’t want her walking around naked?” I repeated.

  “No, if I wanted to see her naked I’d just look at her at the club, but I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked at me as if I was ridiculous. “Because I’m there to do a job, and I love you.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “You’re pretty.”

  “She’s skinny,” I said. It wasn’t that I was fishing for compliments, but after ripping Jack’s arm off and feeling the sting of competition from Cinnamon, I wasn’t feeling confident and I hated myself more for it.

  “And you’re perfect.”

  “Perfect? I could stand to lose a few pounds.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mars, I don’t know how else to explain to you that I love you. That you’re perfect. Do you know what you do to me when you walk through a room? Your shape is what men crave. What I crave. No woman affects me like you do. The only person I ever think of anymore is you and what you’re doing. And when you didn’t return my calls or texts, when you walked away from me thinking I was the worst kind of monster, when you flaunted Rand in front of me, letting him touch you, I died in those moments.”

  “I didn’t flaunt Rand,” I babbled, overcome by the force of his words. “He’s not very flauntable.”

  He stepped closer. I pressed my hands against his chest, not knowing what to expect from him. He looked as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle me or kiss me. I was hoping it was the latter because I no longer believed he’d done anything with Cinnamon, and I rather missed him.

  “What’s the code to the security alarm?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because you and I are going to resolve this upstairs without any interruptions.”

  “If you mean Emily barging in, I don’t think we have to worry. She’s taken over Rand’s apartment.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “And there’s nothing to resolve. I believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

  “How sorry?”

  “Very.”

  He took my hands and slid them down to my side. “There’s still the matter of your arrest.”

  “I thought you said the charges were dropped.”

  “Yes,” Brett said, dipping down to give a lingering kiss. “He dropped the charges, but you have at least two days of hard time with me.”

  “Two days? Hard time?” I tried not to squeak, but my voice changed an octave or two.

  “At least.”

  “Don’t you have work?”

  The telltale sound of handcuffs clicking shut caught me by surprise. I looked down to find my wrist attached to his.

  “What work?” he asked, smiling. “You created an army for me. I have all the time in the world.”

  “We’ll still have to eat,” I said as he nudged me to the staircase. “I’m hungry.”

  He looked at my neck as if that would keep him satisfied. “I’m hungry too, sweet thing.”

  I smiled and turned to run upstairs, bringing him with me.

  “Close the shades,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Mrs. J might be watching to see if we made up.”

  “Then let me make it perfectly clear to her,” he said, bringing me to the window before kneeling in front of me. He slipped a box from his pocket and held it up to me. “Marry me, Mars. I don’t want to be without you another day.”

  I gaped at him and the little gray
box with a dainty red bow. The box looked expensive; I couldn’t even imagine what beautiful creation was inside. I wanted to say yes desperately. I had wanted him to finish proposing in Italy when I cut him off.

  “Say yes,” I heard Mrs. Janowski’s voice boom on a megaphone.

  “We have to do something about her,” Brett said, still waiting on his knee. “But she makes sense.”

  “Yes,” I said, thinking they both made a lot of sense.

  “Yes to marrying me? Or yes that we need to do something about Mrs. J?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “Don’t you want to see the ring first? I bought it in Italy.”

  “No. I’d marry you with no ring. I’ve been miserable without you.”

  He stood and hugged me to him, his fingers running through my hair as he murmured, “You have no idea how much I missed you. T banned me from work. Said I could only come back when hell froze over or until I made up with you, whichever came first.”

  He moved back so he could give me the box. I took it with unsteady hands, taking his cuffed wrist along for the ride.

  “Open it,” he urged.

  I flipped open the lid to reveal a round diamond set in white gold. Rubies decorated the band.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I’ve always thought red suited you. You’re perfect, you know.”

  “I’m not perfect, but thank you.”

  “Then perfect for me.”

  I smiled. “Perfect for you.”

  He reached for the shade and let it drop, cutting off the outside world.

  “Congratulations!” Mrs. Janowski shouted through the megaphone.

  Well, the outside world minus Mrs. Janowski.

  But even she faded away when Brett kissed me.

  Thank you for reading Fearsome Foursome!

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  Books by Nicolette Pierce

 

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