Cataclysmic.
Story of her life lately. Story of her fricking life.
That night, Boston
“Well, they love her in Beantown, huh?”
Jase kept his eyes on the crowd, not bothering to acknowledge Chris Ramsey’s observation but noting just the slightest thread of jealousy in her tone.
He didn’t like this woman, and every time he was around her, she gave him another reason not to. She made him edgy as hell. And as he stood in the wings scanning the glut of bodies crowding the stage, the edge grew sharper and keener.
Janey had just started her second set and already house security had had to wrestle half a dozen fans away from the stage. Everyone wanted to get close to her. Everyone wanted to get their hands on her.
Poor bastards. He knew how they felt.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been as close as a man could get to her. He’d had his hands all over her. And his mouth. And . . . Jesus. He wanted to touch her again.
And that just wasn’t going to happen. He had a rule: one out-of-his-mind experience a year.
Arms crossed over his chest, he repeatedly scanned the crowd as JoJo Starbuck’s bass guitar throbbed out a hot, heavy rhythm. Inevitably, Jase’s gaze strayed back to Janey.
She stood center stage, her whiskey-and-velvet voice belting out “Take Me, Baby.” She looked . . . outrageous. And incredible in a black leather bustier and low-riding shorts so short her legs looked a mile long. Four-inch ankle boots made those legs look incredible.
So did the light sheen of perspiration glowing on her skin.
He’d seen her glow like that last night. When he’d gone down on her. When he’d finally tasted that sweet spot between her legs and sent them both soaring.
“Where was a good mind when you needed one,” he muttered under his breath, still not believing he’d let himself get so far off track where she was concerned.
He’d screwed up before. But last night—hell. It was the screwup to end all screwups. The mother of all screwups. Shit. It was the world championship of screwups.
There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. Except try to forget it ever happened. Try not to notice the hurt he saw in Janey’s eyes every time she looked at him. Try not to let himself go to her, apologize—or, worse, tell her she’d been the most incredible, amazing, excellent thing to ever happen to him.
And she had been. Not just the sex—though, sweet, sweet Lord, the sex had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
The thing was, it had been more than sex, he admitted with a defeated breath. Way more than sex. At least it had been for him. But for her—well, she might think it had been more, but he figured he knew what had really happened last night.
She’d needed someone to hold her. Someone to make her forget about all the shit that had been happening in her life.
Always one to volunteer for the tough duty, huh, Wilson?
He jerked his gaze back to the crowd. And forgot all about last night’s mistakes when he thought back to the phone call he’d received from No.
He hadn’t told Janey—didn’t want to hit her with it before she went onstage—but Dallas had discovered that another woman was dead. A woman whose name was on the list with three others they’d found in Alice Perkins’s lockbox. Christ. Like No and Dallas, Jase didn’t believe for a minute that it was an accident. And like them, he figured the other women were living on borrowed time—if they were still alive.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. There was only one thing he was certain of in all this. Janey was not going to die. He was going to make damn sure of it. And to do that, he had to keep his head in the game and his dick in his pants.
The canned spotlights roamed over the audience, from the two tiers of balconies to the floor in front of the stage.
A spike of adrenaline that always foreshadowed trouble shot through his system like a fireball.
Shit. Holy shit, he thought when the light passed a face in the crowd.
There. Just there—row three. Jase squinted, focused, and felt his blood boil.
Grimm. Goddamn, it was Grimm!
The light moved on and Jase lost him in the dark.
Maybe he’d been seeing things. But he could have sworn he just saw Edwin Grimm. Hell, he’d studied the bastard’s picture often enough. He knew exactly what Grimm looked like.
Jase grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight and, shining it into the crowd, edged closer to the stage.
Nothing.
Grimm was gone—if he was ever there.
Still, Jase had bumped up to red alert, the hair at the back of his neck standing at attention, that “got a bad feeling” zipping along every nerve ending.
He zeroed his search in on the section where he thought he’d spotted Grimm. Third row, a little left of center. Nothing. If he was there, Jase couldn’t spot him in the throng of bodies. They moved together like a monster wave, hands in the air, mouths moving as they sang along, screamed, cried, laughed, and spilled foaming beer.
Okay. Maybe he had been seeing things. Maybe—
Fuck.
There he was.
Grimm had maneuvered himself in position directly in front of the stage.
Jase tossed the light and shot out onto the stage like a bullet. He glanced at Janey—and saw in her eyes that she’d just spotted Grimm, too.
“Get off the stage!” Jase yelled on his way, by then launching himself into the crowd and diving straight for Grimm.
Iwasn’t doing nothin’!” Edwin Grimm yelled.
Jase twisted Grimm’s arm behind his back and shoved his wrist between his shoulder blades.
“You got no call to attack me! I paid money! I was just watching the show!”
“Save it for the judge, asshole.” Jase steered Grimm around behind the stage area, where he could have a little chat with him before he called the police to come and haul his perverted ass away.
“You’re the one goin’ to jail, muscle head! I’m going to charge you with assault and battery!”
“Were I you,” Jase snarled, shoving Grimm up against a cement wall, “I’d stow it. Because you’re starting to piss me off. And you really don’t want to see me mad.”
“I want a lawyer,” Grimm said, some of his bravado waning in the face of Jase’s snarl.
“Sit down and shut up.”
With a surly glare, Grimm slid quietly to the floor.
“Call the police,” Jase said as three or four of the security guards he’d contracted for that night’s concert came running. “I’ll be right back.”
He sprinted for the stage where the band was still rocking and the crowd was still grooving and Sweet Baby Jane had never missed a beat.
Damn, she was something else. And he’d deal with the fact that she hadn’t hiked her sweet ass off the stage when he’d ordered her. Later. Right now, he just wanted to make sure she knew the threat was over.
He waited until she moved his way, cut a glance in his direction, and he was able to give her a nod—an all clear.
He caught the flicker of relief in her eyes just before she strutted her stuff back center stage, playing a wicked air guitar, then danced toward the crowd.
Yeah, she was something all right, he thought, and headed back to have a little chat with Edwin Grimm.
I just came to see the show,” Grimm insisted, over and over as the police questioned him in an interrogation room down at the station. “And for the last time, I don’t know nothing about Atlantic City or Podunk, Mississippi, and any bleeding hearts. And I’m not answering any more questions until you get me a lawyer.”
Standing beside Baby Blue outside the room behind a two-way mirror, Janey stared at the man who had made her life a living hell. She’d finished the concert but skipped the after-show party so she could come down to the station to file a complaint.
“He’s not going to change his story, is he?”
Baby Blue shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“How l
ong can they keep him?”
“Without hard evidence? Not long.”
“We had a restraining order against him before he went to prison. Can’t they keep him for violating it?”
“Don’t know yet. They’re checking on that, but the detective says it was most likely a temporary order—and even if it wasn’t, it’s probably expired. In the meantime, I’ve already had them get another one in the works just in case.”
“So, most likely, he walks,” she concluded, angry at a justice system that seemed to always work toward the criminal’s advantage. Angry at Baby Blue, who had to know she could use more than his able protection right about now but kept his distance like a good bodyguard should.
“Janey, look, the PD in Tupelo and Atlantic City are both working the case hard. Now we’ve got these guys on it. They’re working it back at E.D.E.N., too. Something’s going to pop to link Grimm to the break-ins. Maybe they’ll even be able to tie him to your mother’s death. You’ve got to have some faith that they’ll make a case against him eventually.”
She turned away from the mirrored glass. Couldn’t look at Edwin Grimm any longer. At his pasty prison complexion. At his smug look and disturbing eyes. “Eventually might not be soon enough.”
Baby Blue moved in close, touched a hand to her shoulder, quickly let it drop when she looked up at him. Like he’d just realized he’d touched her and was sorry as hell.
“I don’t like the idea of him being turned loose any more than you do, but even if he walks, we’re going to know where he is this time, okay?”
He paused when she didn’t say anything, then explained. “I’ve already put in a call to Nolan. His brother-in-law used to be a PI. He’s going to put us in touch with a friend we can count on to keep track of Grimm. The minute the bastard sets foot on the pavement, our man will be on him. Grimm won’t be able to spit without us knowing where and how far.
“Hey.” He touched her arm when she didn’t respond. “He didn’t get to you tonight, did he? Did he?”
She looked up into eyes that had gone hard with determination.
“I promised you I wouldn’t let him and I kept that promise. Just like I’m promising you right now that he’s not getting close to you again.”
She nodded. Yeah. He’d promised. And he’d come through.
“Can we leave?” she asked, trying not to think about other promises. The ones she’d seen in his eyes last night.
Or thought she’d seen.
“Yeah. I need to check in with the detective again; then we can go. Sit tight—and do what I tell you this time. I’ll make it quick.”
She watched him disappear down a hall after he gave her another stern admonishment to stay exactly where she was.
She stayed. Wishing she were anywhere but here.
For tonight, at least, she was safe from Edwin Grimm. She should feel relieved.
Yet when Jason Wilson, in his dark T-shirt and perfectly fitting worn jeans, walked back down the hall toward her, all she felt was empty.
That’s because sometime between landing in Boston and seeing him charge across the stage tonight like an avenging angel, she’d figured something out.
She’d fallen in love with her bodyguard.
You know how to pick ’em, don’t you, girl?
She’d fallen in love. Hadn’t meant to. Didn’t want to. But there it was. She loved him.
And the stern, distanced look on Baby Blue’s face as he approached her told her there wasn’t a raindrop’s chance in the Sahara that he’d want to come within a desert mile of that word.
No. Country boys didn’t fall in love with rockers. They just had electric, mind-numbing sex with them.
“I don’t want to go back to the hotel,” she said when he stopped in front of her.
He frowned. “Janey—it’s two in the morning.”
“I don’t care. Call John and tell him to get the jet ready. I want to get out of here. I want to go home.” She hugged her arms tightly around her, drew into herself. “I want to see my dogs.”
Bastards. Bastards didn’t have shit on him, Edwin thought smugly as he lay on a jail cell cot. They couldn’t keep him here. Couldn’t pin nothing on him. And as soon as the lawyer his attorney back in California had called arrived, they’d have to turn him loose.
Someone was going to pay for this, he thought as the hollow slam of a cell door made him jump. He hated being caged. Hated what happened after dark.
“Jesus will protect me. Jesus will protect me,” he repeated over and over. And tried to think about anything but where he was.
So he thought about Janey. God, she’d looked amazing. She was too good for those trash rockers she ran with. He was good for her, though. She’d see. He just needed to make her see that. But he couldn’t get to her. Too many people running interference.
Hell, if he had his way, he’d soon be saying good riddance to a whole shitload of hangers-on—including Derek McCoy. Just thinking about that self-professed cocksman touching her made Edwin see red. And Neal Sanders. The worthless piece of shit sucked onto Janey like a slug now that she’d made the big time.
More than anything, though, Edwin wanted to give that fucking bodyguard what he deserved. Bastard damn near broke his arm. We’ll see who ends up broken next go-round. When he tied up some loose ends, he’d deal with that baby-faced prick personally.
He thought of Janey’s slut of a mother. Was damn glad the bitch was dead. Even Jesus had to say good riddance to that piece of work. His only regret was that he hadn’t been personally involved in her death.
They’d be trying to pin that on him, too. For all the good it would do them.
He jerked to a sitting position, then stood when a guard rattled a key in the lock.
“Lawyer’s here.”
“About damn time,” Edwin sputtered, and walked out of the cell.
Yeah. It was about damn time. He had things to do. Things to finish. And he was going to have to step up his game if he was going to get what he wanted.
Same night, Derek McCoy’s hotel room
“And you won’t quote me, right?”
Chris Ramsey smiled, settled back on the gold brocade sofa, and drew deep on her cigarette. “I keep my word, Derek. I told you that the last time we had a little chat. You can count on that. I just need a little more insight into the ‘real’ Janey Perkins.”
McCoy snorted. “There is no real Janey Perkins. She’s a flaming robot.”
“Stiff as a board in bed, huh?” Chris prompted, knowing the dig would hit home. McCoy considered himself a lady’s man of major prowess. “You have gotten her into bed, right?”
McCoy sneered and took another toke off his special blend. “You kidding me? She’s an ice queen. Damn prick tease is what she is.”
Chris loved it. She covered a smile with a conciliatory look. “She does like yanking your chain. I’ve noticed that.”
“Got that right. A major ballbuster, that one.”
“I’ll bet the right man could put her in her place.”
McCoy glared at her through a weed-induced haze. “You saying I’m not man enough?”
“Oh . . . is that how it came out? Sorry. Not what I meant at all. Everyone knows you’re the man, Derek. Someone ought to put her in her place, though. Teach her a lesson.”
An interested, evil smile tilted the corners of his full lips. “You have something in mind?”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Yeah. I have something in mind.”
And after she finished up planting seeds here, she was going to make another attempt at contacting the Reverend Black. The episode with the blood in New York at the Garden was just too juicy to let go.
“Double, double toil and trouble,” she singsonged with a grin as she picked up the phone. “Time to stir the pot a little more.”
She was taking a chance, yes. Feeding information as to Janey’s whereabouts to the religious zealots was risky, but look at the payoff so far. Yeah, the bloodbath was a blast. Chr
is couldn’t help but wonder what they’d do when they found out Janey was home in California.
Thursday, July 20th, Malibu, California
Jase stood in the open doorway of Janey’s beach house bedroom. It was 10:00 a.m. They’d arrived at LAX around seven this morning. By the time they’d gotten loaded into the waiting limo and they’d made the drive to her beach house, it had been after nine.
A nifty-looking fifty-something housekeeper by the name of Fiona had welcomed Janey home—right after she’d been slobbered over and adored and gifted with about ten pounds of fur from a one-eyed yellow cat named Cat and three of the ugliest mutt dogs Jase had ever seen. As far as he could see, they weren’t good for much. They hadn’t even barked when he and Janey had arrived.
Nope. Not much in the watchdog department. But very much in the making-Janey-smile department. He’d have to like the ugly mutts for that alone.
She’d sent Fiona for a week off with pay and finally, fully dressed, she’d fallen asleep—God knew she needed to sleep—all three dogs and the cat pig-piled with her on a bed roughly the size and color of a lake.
Jase would like nothing better than to crawl right in there with her. Cover all that warm woman heat and take her someplace where she’d forget about crazed stalkers and murdered mothers and the mystery of who was after the million bucks.
Yeah. That’s what he’d like. And that’s why he backed quietly out of her bedroom, which was done in dark, rich wood tones and soft, cool blues.
He walked into the main living area. Took it all in—the square footage, the oceanfront view, and the designer décor—and thought, Whoa.
So this is “home” for a rock star.
He’d known she made a fortune. But that had been an abstract, nebulous awareness. This was up close and personal. And it was something. He’d heard about places like this. Never thought he’d set foot in one.
Grand. That’s what his mom would say about it. Yeah. It was grand.
And if he hadn’t already decided there wasn’t a beached salmon’s chance against a grizzly of anything long-term ever happening between him and Janey, the reality of how far out of his league she truly was would have done it.
Cindy Gerard - [Bodyguards 04] Page 18
