Jenna had known as much but hearing it from his lips made her already-grated insides crushed. She nodded tightly and flew out the door, snatching her luggage on the way.
* * *
Greyson listened to the door slam as Jenna fled the house. From his study window, he watched her shadow move quickly to the garage. Taillights glowed red as she backed out and tore down the driveway. He lost sight as she passed the gate.
He leaned back against his chair and pondered. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he could tell Jenna was frightened. In their short conversation he had shoved aside the earlier thought that she might be crazy. She could be, for all he knew, but he could sense her fear. Something had happened while he was out to dinner.
But what?
His fingers sifted through the wreckage. Someone had to have called her or messaged her.
Greyson shoved back from the desk. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem. Tomorrow he would put the mansion on the market and wipe his hands clean of this place once and for all.
He was done.
It was time to move on.
* * *
Jenna gunned it down the driveway and out to the street. She had no idea where she was heading. If she had no idea, then surely it’d be harder for them to catch her. She sped in a direction. Whether it was north, south, east, or west she had no clue. It was away. That’s all that mattered.
She felt horrible for leaving Greyson flummoxed by her departure. She felt even worse when he said she wasn’t welcomed back. But that was to be expected. She knew she could never return anyway.
A vehicle trailed her, headlights illuminating her car’s interior. Her heart banged frantically. Had they found her already? What would they do to her when they caught her?
God, Adam, what did you do?
She knew what he did. He had confessed right before he vanished. But it was only Adam’s version of the story. He was never really forthcoming, even as a child. Was he dead? That’s what she had feared for the past year, but something nagged at her. If they’d killed Adam, why would they seek their revenge on her?
Jenna’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, praying the car would turn. It stayed with her, close on her heels.
She pressed hard on the accelerator, flying down a country road with no other lights except for her’s and her tailgater’s. There was no one else around. Not a single soul who would hear her cry for help. She didn’t even have a phone to dial the police. She was alone.
She had to find a populated place. Somewhere she could become lost in the crowd. They’d still hunt for her, she was sure, but at least it’d give her time to plan.
Chapter 10
“Greyson Miller, you wake up this instant!” the voice admonished him again like it had for the past horrendous five minutes.
“I’m changing the locks,” Greyson muttered into his pillow. His brain pulsed against his skull. He was sure it was going to explode any minute. Mya, yapping like an overexcited puppy, only made it worse.
Mya shook his shoulder. “Don’t you ignore me! What did you do? Where’s Jenna?”
Greyson groaned. “And here I thought you came out of concern for me.”
“I’m more concerned about Jenna,” she said.
“Why?” Greyson curled into his blankets.
“She’s not here.”
“I know. Why are you here?”
“I came to check on you. David is still passed out. I thought if he was as bad as that, you’d be dead for sure.”
“I will be if you keep talking.”
“Greyson!” she scolded, attacking him with the swift stroke of a feather pillow that felt more like solid iron in his present condition.
He was going to die for sure, and it was all his fault. Correction: It was Jenna’s fault. She’d left him so confused and frustrated he’d flip-flopped in bed for hours. He finally gave in and searched the house for a sleeping aid. There was none to be found and, at the late hour, he hadn’t been willing to dress to go into town. He’d ended up using a classic remedy instead. Whisky. It did the trick. Unfortunately, it did more than put him to sleep.
His eyes pounded against his lids.
Mya attacked again.
Greyson snatched the pillow and tossed it across the room, immediately regretting the impulse as his stomach rolled.
“Jenna quit last night,” Greyson groaned, pulling the covers over his head.
“Why did she quit? What did you do?”
“Why don’t you ask what she did? Why assume it’s me?”
Mya tsked. “It’s always you.”
If Greyson could’ve felt anything other than stabbing pain, he might have been wounded by that remark. But she had a point. It normally was him who drove people away. Work came before social niceties. But not anymore. This time he was blameless.
Right?
“I don’t know why Jenna left,” Greyson said from under the covers. “She wasn’t acting normal and then she packed her bags and said she was leaving.”
“And you let her?”
“What else could I do?”
“Keep her here!”
Greyson peeked from under the covers, wincing at the light. “The last time I checked, keeping a woman against her will was illegal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t. Jenna insisted on leaving. What more could I do?”
Mya frowned and crossed her arms, leaning against the bed. “I don’t know, but I thought . . .”
“Thought what?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m just sorry to see her go.”
“Good riddance.”
“Greyson!”
“What? She was a nuisance.”
Mya scowled but didn’t respond.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Greyson said. “I’m putting the house up for sale today . . . tomorrow.” He didn’t think he’d be able to do anything today.
“What if she comes back?”
“She won’t.”
“Why?”
Greyson sighed. “Are you going to hammer me with questions all day? Go home and dig into your husband for a while.”
Mya’s face drained. Her hands flew to her mouth as she raced for the bathroom. Greyson winced as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. At least he hoped she’d made it to the toilet. He was not up for cleaning the mess in his current state. He’d rather burn the house to cinders.
He flipped back the covers and sat, testing his feet on the ground. When the room stopped swaying, he stood and crossed over to his robe. As he tightened the belt around his waist, Mya emerged from the bathroom, her hand rubbing her belly.
“The baby is trying to kill me,” she complained, wandering over to the bed. She crawled on top of the covers and collapsed.
Greyson dipped into the bathroom and returned with two cold washcloths. He placed one over her forehead and tossed the other over his entire face as he fell in on the other side.
“She’s just testing you,” Greyson said after a moment.
“What?” Mya asked.
“The baby. She’s testing you, making sure you’re up for the challenge.”
“I don’t think I am,” she muttered miserably.
“If anyone can do it, you can,” Greyson said.
At the sound of a sniffle, Greyson lifted his washcloth to peek at Mya. She was pressing her fingers to her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“What if I’m lousy?” she asked, lower lip trembling.
Greyson stopped for a moment. “How could you possibly be lousy?” As Mya opened her mouth, he realized she had a preformed list. “Wait,” he said. “I have no experience with emotional pregnant women, which I think might be the problem right now.”
Mya’s face screwed into what was going to be a hurricane of tears.
“But I do know you,” Greyson said quickly. “You’re kind and compassionate. You have a smile for everyone, whether or not they deserve
it. You stood by your missing husband for longer than anyone in their right mind would have.”
Mya scowled. “I would’ve stayed longer if I’d known he was alive. You know I love him.”
“I do,” Greyson said, content to have an irritated Mya instead of a crying one. “And I know that you’ll love the baby even more than David. If you stood by David, just think what you’ll do for the baby.”
Mya sighed. “You’ll be a great uncle. I know I’ve said it before. But I mean it.”
“I’ll be the best uncle,” he corrected. “I only have Ian as my competition, and he hardly qualifies.”
An alarm blared in the house, followed by a series of slurred curses.
“I think your knight in shining armor has arrived,” Greyson said.
“Go help him. You know he can’t work your alarm panel when he’s hung over.”
“I’m not sure I can do much better,” Greyson said, sitting forward with his head cradled between his hands. “I really need to get new locks and codes.”
“Greyson, just go before the police arrive.”
He shuffled out of the room and down to the front door where David was attempting to yank the panel from the wall.
“Please don’t ruin my alarm system,” Greyson said.
“Just turn the bloody thing off!” David barked. “My head is going to explode.”
Greyson crossed over to the panel and punched in the code to deactivate it. It chirped happily and then silenced.
David leaned against the wall. “Does it have to be so loud?”
“The better question is did you have to come?”
“Mya left a note saying she’d be here. Where is she?”
“Resting in my bedroom,” he said. “I’m going to make a round of peppermint tea.”
“Does that tea stuff work on hangovers too?”
“I don’t know, but it couldn’t hurt.”
David nodded. “I’m going upstairs.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Greyson said, heading to the kitchen. He wondered who else would show up uninvited. Jenna floated through his mind, but he quickly pushed her back out where she belonged. The terms were final. She wouldn’t be allowed back on property. Not that it mattered what he said. Everyone seemed to feel they were allowed to wander in, alarm or not.
When Greyson carried three mugs of peppermint tea upstairs, he found David and Mya asleep on the bed. Cuddling.
Greyson sipped his tea, feeling queasy. Did they have to be so ridiculously in love, and on his bed?
He set two mugs on the nightstand and wandered out, wondering where he should hibernate for the rest of the day. If there were more than a dozen bathrooms, there had to be at least a dozen bedrooms. It seemed logical. Although logic in a muddled mind didn’t always work.
And why didn’t he know how many bedrooms he had? It seemed like something a homeowner should know. But he never did think of it as a home. It was just a place with his name on it. He had always stayed on property at the casino. The penthouse had been his home, if you could call it that. More often than not, it was just a comfortable office with a convenient bed to crash on after a long day.
Greyson meandered from room to room, not finding the right bed to crawl into. He didn’t think he was picky, but the yellow room was too bright. And the pink room was, well, too pink and frilly. He just wanted a comfy bed without all the extras.
And then he remembered Jenna’s room.
He had picked it out for her because it was cozy without all the nauseating frills. Did he dare? He glanced back at his occupied room with a sigh and decided he was too tired to care. He padded up the stairs to her . . . his room. He pushed the door open to find everything as he remembered. She must have tidied before she left. That was Jenna. She flew out of the house as if a mob was chasing her, but she made it a point to straighten the room first. The only addition was her laptop, which was on the nightstand.
Greyson fell onto the bed, scrunched the pillow under his head, ignoring the scent of lavender, and drifted into a deep sleep.
* * *
The following day, Greyson felt, if not better, then well enough to start the process of putting his house on the market. Everything would be sold with the house, including his cars. The only thing he’d have to pack is a suitcase.
When the Realtor left with pictures, notes, and signed documents, Greyson was sure he’d finally feel relief. Instead, he felt adrift.
Stepping out onto the patio, he stared out at his half-finished project with a twinge of regret. He never left anything unfinished. But maybe this was for the best. Maybe this was his turning point. If he could consciously stop a project midway through without succumbing to the temptation to finish, then maybe he could finally rest.
He was tired. The more time he spent away from office life, the more he realized it.
His cell phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. He reached into his pocket, automatically answering with his standard, “Miller.”
“Are you missing an employee?” Remy asked dryly.
“No,” Greyson said. “I don’t have an employee.”
There was a pause before Remy asked, “So, I can let Jenna go?”
To anyone listening in, there’d be many questions, like, “Why was Jenna with Remy?” But, having worked with Remy, Greyson already surmised what had happened. Remy had the habit of detaining anyone he thought might pose a problem for Greyson. Old habits were hard to break, especially if it was one of Remy’s. His military training made him scary good at finding people, even when they didn’t want to be found. He could pinpoint a targeted person from a hundred yards, even if they had altered their appearance with wigs and facial hair.
“Yes. You can let her go,” Greyson said. “She quit yesterday.”
There was another pause. “Did anything happen?”
Greyson let an irritated sigh escape. “She was acting strange and then informed me she was leaving.”
“You might want to come down here,” Remy said.
“Why?”
“I’ve seen some scared people in my life, but I’ve never seen anyone this scared.”
“If she’s afraid, then send her to the police,” Greyson said.
“Greyson . . .”
“I’m not getting involved.”
“I can’t get involved either. She won’t talk to me, and I have my own shit to deal with.”
“I heard you were acting strange too,” Greyson said. “What’s going on?”
“Who told you that?”
“Mya. She’s worried about you.”
There was a strained silence before Remy said, “It’s nothing. A past thorn just returned to town. It’s made me a bit edgy.”
“You’re always edgy. Who’s in town?”
“No one that you’d know. Are you going to pick up Jenna?” Remy asked.
“Call the police and let them deal with her,” Greyson said, hanging up before Remy could argue . . . or try to make him feel guilty, which he knew he would.
What the hell could have scared her? Greyson stared blankly ahead, trying to shove Jenna out of his mind. It wasn’t working. All he could see was Jenna’s tear-streaked face. The image made his body tense with mixed emotions. Emotions that could . . . he didn’t want to get involved. He wasn’t going to get involved! In the past, he had been subjected to too many other problems. People always turned to him for help. For once, he wanted to turn his back on them. But it wasn’t them, it was Jenna. And instinctively he knew she was in way over her head.
Dammit!
Greyson dashed out the door with a silent curse, texting Remy to let him know he was on the way.
I didn’t doubt it for a minute, was Remy’s reply.
Chapter 11
Greyson rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at Jenna’s sleeping form. She was curled into a fetal position on Remy’s office couch. Her face was red and blotchy as if she had been crying.
“How long has she been here?” Greyso
n asked. Why Jenna would come to the Tropical Rain casino was beyond him. Did she have a gambling addiction?
“I’m not sure,” Remy said. “I stumbled upon her an hour ago.”
“Stumbled?”
“She was hiding behind the mega fortune wheel out front.”
“Hiding?”
Remy leveled his stare. “Yes. Hiding. When I pulled her out I could tell she was going to put up a fight, but then she just crumpled when she recognized me. I asked her a few questions, but she didn’t answer. As soon as I called you, she passed out.”
“She didn’t tell me anything either. I don’t know what I can do for her if she won’t talk.”
“She’s obviously afraid.”
“Obviously.”
Greyson stepped closer to Jenna, his fingers drifted over to brush a lock of hair from her face.
“What could she be afraid of?” Greyson asked.
“I don’t know, but she’s your problem now,” Remy answered.
“No, she’s not.”
“Then she’s on her own. I’m heading out of town tonight.”
“The thorn?” Greyson asked, still staring at Jenna.
“Yes.”
Greyson gave a slight nod, rubbing his hand along his jaw. Jenna had become his problem. His own pint-sized thorn. He reached out and nudged her shoulder. “Jenna.” When she didn’t respond, he shook her harder. “Jenna, wake up. It’s time to go.”
“She’s dead to the world,” Remy said. “I doubt she’ll wake for hours.”
Greyson tossed his keys to Remy. “Have someone bring my car to the back door. I’ll carry her out.”
When Remy ducked out of the office, Greyson returned his gaze to Jenna, his fingers drifting over her cheek. “I don’t know how to help you, Jenna.”
* * *
Jenna yawned and cracked her eyes open. The late-morning sun filtered through her shades, stirring her to rise. She yawned again and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Turning her head, she saw her laptop sitting on the nightstand.
Last Tailored Suit Page 8
