A_Little_Harmless_Fascination

by Melissa Schroeder

  "Wait. What laws did you break with my computer?" Micah asked.

  The younger man shrugged. "Just a few. Nothing big. And nothing the FBI could find."

  Conner’s frustration boiled over into anger. "Just stop the arguing and tell me where he's staying,"

  Devon glanced at Micah then back to him. "In Ko’Olina."

  "He has no money but he's staying there?" Micah asked.

  "You know how rich people are. They somehow figure out a way to do things like that. Always."

  Conner knew he spoke from the experience of growing up with a mob father. And he was probably right. There was always a chance Brent would just disappear when he was done here, and the hotel would have to fight him for the money.

  “Let’s go,” Conner said.

  "And you need to call Jillian. She needs to know that nut is here," Micah said.

  He called her number as they headed out of the door of Rough ‘n Ready. The wind just about blew him over as they stepped onto the sidewalk next to the club. There were dark clouds gathering. She picked up after a couple of rings.

  "Sorry, I was moving my grill in. The wind is just insane and the rain is hitting us now. How is it over there?"

  "Fine. Why didn't you tell me that you are in charge of Bentley Industries?"

  She didn't say anything, and he didn't blame her. He had planned on asking her calmly after they sorted everything out with her cousin. Instead, it had come out as an accusation. He should have waited, but until that moment, he hadn’t realized that her not telling him had hurt so much.

  When she finally answered, her voice was very measured, as if trying to make sure that she didn’t reveal too much. "I'm not really in charge. I just handle the money that goes to the family. I sit on the board, but I only go in for the annual meeting or if there is an emergency."

  He stopped and Micah and Devon gave him some privacy. It was hard to talk on the phone with the wind blowing like it was, but he knew he needed to try and at least apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a bastard about it, but your cousin is here in the islands."

  “Brent? He's harmless."

  It rankled that she wasn’t taking it seriously. "Why is he here then?"

  She sighed. "He has a temper, but believe me, it’s only when he drinks, and he wouldn't fly over the ocean to deal with me. That isn't his style. That would take a lot of concentration, and that’s something Brent’s never had."

  "Still, we're going out to Ko'Olina to talk to him."

  “We?"

  “Micah and Devon are coming with me."

  She sighed again, and this time it sounded more like relief. "Okay you have a local."

  "Think I can't handle myself?” he asked.

  “No, but Micah will know that the weather can look like paradise one minute and be a disaster the next. Locals know better how to handle it, and they know better ways to get around the island. Plus, there is a chance that you might have to wait the storm out over there.

  “I’m not going to allow that. We’re going to take care of this, then I will be back.”

  He didn’t want to say it, but something was really feeling wrong to him. Other than his usual worries, that gut feeling that told him something bad was about to happen was in full force. It had never let him down before, but Conner hoped that this one time it would.

  “Call me when you get there."

  He waited for her to say she loved him, but she didn't. She hadn’t said it since that night when she had first told him.

  "I will. Bye, Jillian."

  "Bye. Oh, and Conner?”

  “What?”

  She hesitated. “I love you." She hung up before he could respond, but it didn’t lessen the affect. Warmth spread through his chest as he felt his lips curve. Damn, if the woman didn’t make him happy. Micah beeped the horn on his car, and Conner jogged over to get in. As soon as this was straightened out, Jillian and he were going to have a talk.

  He was just starting to realize that he didn’t want to contemplate living without her. She was just going to have to accept it.

  The ride out to Ko’Olina was as aggravating as the entire issue had been. It was long, and the slow pace of Hawaii was no longer enjoyable. He had to get there and see that bastard of a cousin. Once he did, he would know that he could control the situation.

  By the time they drove past Paradise Cove, Conner was counting the number of Brent’s fingers he would break. Micah didn’t get the car in park before Conner was out and striding to the door of the resort. Devon and Micah caught up to him when he started toward the front desk.

  “Don’t, I have the room number,” Devon said.

  “And?” he asked as he started toward the elevator.

  Devon rattled off the number. He was about to take the stairs when the doors opened. They waited while people got off, then he strode into the car. The boiling anger he’d felt was now exploding. The minute the doors opened, he bolted, looking for the room. He banged on the door with his fist.

  “What?”

  “Brent Edwards?” he bellowed.

  The man on the other side of the door hesitated. “Who wants to know?”

  Conner opened his mouth to answer, but Devon stopped him.

  “This is Devon Ross with the Honolulu PD. There is an emergency with your mother.”

  “His mother?” Conner whispered.

  Devon shrugged. “From what I read, he is a real mama’s boy.”

  “My mother?” The locks flipped and the door opened. The man he saw standing on the other side of the threshold was a big brute, at least six foot and extra. He had to weigh close to two hundred and fifty pounds—most of it muscle.

  “What’s wrong with my mother?” he asked.

  Conner didn’t answer. All the rage he’d barely controlled took over. He balled up his fist and hit the bastard in the nose.

  “Fucking hell,” Brent yelled as he covered his face with his hands. Blood came seeping from between his fingers. Before Brent could respond, Conner hit him in the stomach. But what he hadn’t expected was another man, even bigger than Brent, coming at him. He tackled him with such force, Conner and he fell onto the ground.

  By the time they pulled them apart, Conner had gotten a few hits in, but not without receiving a few himself. He was feeling a little dizzy by the time he stood.

  “What the hell is this about?” Brent asked. He was now holding a towel to his nose.

  “Jillian.”

  Brent shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. “My cousin Jillian?”

  Conner rolled his shoulders. “Don’t play stupid. You came here, you sent her threatening mail, played with her brakes.”

  He glanced at his friend, then back at him. “When?”

  “Now.”

  “When?” he asked again.

  “Okay, I’ll play along. This past week.”

  “There is no way,” Brent said. “We’ve been here this week.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I want to know what the fuck your game is.”

  “Let me explain,” his friend said. “My name is Justin. I’m his husband. We’ve been on our honeymoon.”

  For a second, no one said anything. “You’re married?” Conner asked.

  “Yep, we went to DC and did the deed, then we flew out here,” Brent said. “We’ve been here most of the time, other than a quick trip to the luau down the road last night.”

  Conner couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. He was so sure it was her cousin, and now he might have an alibi. He had to be lying. “I know that the attacks have to do with your family.”

  “Dude, I seriously didn’t have any idea where Jillian lived. We stayed out of each other’s way.”

  Conner opened his mouth to ask another question, but Justin stepped in. “Before we answer any more questions, you have to tell us who the hell you are.”

  “My name is Conner Dillon, and I’m staying over at Jillian’s for the month. She’s a family friend.”

  “Is
that what they call it?” Micah murmured as he stepped forward. “My name is Micah Ross. Conner hasn’t explained it properly, so let me.”

  Micah outlined the two incidents quickly. “There was no indication of a reader fixated on her and there was no one in Conner’s FBI past who was following him. It all goes back to the family.”

  “But your mother calls for money constantly for you,” Devon said.

  Everyone turned to look at him, and he winced. It was then that Conner realized he might not want these people to know who he was.

  “I’ve had access to the records. Your mother has asked Jillian numerous times for money over the last few months. When she was turned down, your mother filed papers trying to remove Jillian as trustee.”

  Brent sighed and sat down at one of the chairs. “My mother is insane. From the time she was a kid, she resented Jillian’s mother. She was always brighter, smarter, and my grandmother adored her. When she died, Grandmother was devastated. I was young, but I remember. My mother, she was thrilled.”

  A cold chill sunk into Conner. “Thrilled.”

  He nodded. “She was finally the oldest. She thought she would control everything. But as much as I think my grandmother was a bitch, she was a smart one.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  He nodded. “She knew that the one person who would keep us all in check would be Jillian. I promise that I haven’t had her go to my cousin for money in two years.”

  “And you didn’t come here to find Jillian?”

  “I’ve been a little busy. I do know Mom lost some money.”

  His husband snorted. “Please. She didn’t lose the money. She went gambling. The woman has a gambling habit that she passed on to her son. Don’t forget she has the drug habit, too.” He looked at Conner. “Oxycontin.”

  Brent smiled. “Mom had always been able to keep it under control. Then Dad left. He was never really there to begin with, but he left, and Mom hated dealing with the embarrassment of having her husband marrying a woman younger than her son. Since then, Mom has gotten worse, but I don’t live in Atlanta anymore. I moved to Seattle to be with Justin and help him run his shop.”

  “Shop?” Micah asked.

  “We customize motorcycles.”

  “Can you think of anyone who would have it out for her in the family? You all seem to have a motive, but do you know someone who thinks she is beneath you.”

  “Most of them do. I never did. Truthfully, by the time I was old enough to know what was going on, she had gone to college. Then she was completely gone.”

  Justin shook his head. “Babe, tell them the truth. Your mother has the most to gain.”

  “What?” Conner asked as the chill that had worried him was now sending waves of fear through him.

  “His mother. She will control everything if Jillian is killed. And God help the rest of the family at that point.”

  Before he could say anything, his phone went off. The number was from Atlanta.

  “Dillon, here,” Conner said.

  There was a pause on the other side of the phone. “Yes, sir, I was trying to get ahold of Ms. Sawyer. She isn’t answering, so I called her contact, which is a Maura Dillon.”

  “Yes, that’s my sister.”

  “So I surmised. You really should tell your sister when things are bad because she is none to happy with you. She apparently didn’t know about the threats to Ms. Sawyer.”

  He was impatient as the worry that had plagued his gut earlier today grew. “What did you need?”

  “I wanted to let you know that it has come to my attention that her Aunt Blanche knows where she lives. I found out that someone from my firm told her several months ago.”

  “When?”

  “About four months ago. I am very sorry for this.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Ms. Sawyer? I thought she was there in Hawaii.”

  He almost threw his phone against the wall. “No. Jesus, Blanche.”

  The man cleared his throat. “That is the problem. No one can locate her.”

  Panic now threaded through his blood as he thought of the ramifications. “Thank you.”

  He hung up as the man continued to talk. He punched Jillian’s number but all he got was a busy signal.

  “Busy. I can’t get ahold of her.”

  “The other side of the island is getting hit hard now. The lines will be down probably,” Micah said.

  “We have to go.”

  “What does this have to do with my mother?” Brent asked.

  “She apparently knows Jillian lives over here. To top it off, she seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “Shit,” Justin said. “She’s probably the one.”

  That had Conner stopping. “What makes you say that?”

  “She was furious when Brent came out. She tried to beat him with a poker. As it is, it took seventeen stitches. And that isn’t the first time.”

  Brent sighed. “When she is mad, especially when she’s drinking, she can be bad.”

  Now, the panic was quickly becoming replaced with terror. It was screaming through him as he tried to keep himself in check. “Fuck. Let’s go.”

  “Wait, I can go with you,” Brent offered.

  Conner already had the door open. “I don’t have time.”

  “It might be smart, depending on if she is there, Conner. Brent might get her to calm down,” Micah said.

  “Okay, but I’m not waiting.” He grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and wrote down the address. “Use the GPS and meet us there.”

  He rushed through the door then down to the stairwell. He wasn’t going to bother with the elevator. Conner wanted to believe that he was overreacting, but as he heard Micah running behind him, he knew he wasn’t. The something that had been missing now clicked into place. There had always been something kind of personal about the pictures, something that told him it was a person who knew her well.

  He pushed those worries aside as he ran through the lobby. He didn’t even stop when he saw the rain. It looked like a fucking monsoon was hitting, but he didn’t pay attention.

  All that mattered was getting back to Jillian. He tried once more to call and got the same busy signal.

  “It’s the storm,” Micah said. “We don’t get many, but when we do, they can cause a lot of problems.”

  Conner nodded but said nothing as he tried to get ahold of Mick. Busy. He was pushing the buttons to call Jillian again as Micah pulled out onto Farrington Highway.

  “We’ll get there, don’t worry,” Micah said.

  Conner prayed that he was right because any other option wasn’t acceptable.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jillian splashed water on her face, trying to wake herself up. Now that the storm had hit, she was starting to get kind of sleepy. It was dreary out, and the rain was lashing against the windows. There was an odd kind of rhythm to it. It made Jillian think of getting her E-reader and cuddling in bed with it. She wished Conner was there to snuggle with her.

  Jillian opened the bathroom door when all the lights went out.

  “Mick?” she called out.

  Silence greeted her. Not the pleasant silence that she sometimes relished. This was odd, almost unsettling. It could be because of the storm, but something else wasn’t right. Jillian looked out the window and noticed that the house next door had light. That wasn’t right. They were on the same line, so if she had lost power because of the storm, they should have too. A flash of lightening brightened the room. She noticed a pair of shoes on the other side of the kitchenette table. She knew then it was Mick. Jillian hurried over to him. He was lying on the floor, his head bleeding and his eyes closed. She leaned down, but a chilling voice stopped her.

  “Hello, Jillian,” Aunt Blanche said.

  Jillian slowly turned in the direction of the voice. She couldn’t see much without the lights, but what she did see scared the ever-living crap out of her.

  Blanche was a
woman who always dressed properly, without a hair out of place, and her clothes were always from the best stores. Now, though, her hair was a mess, her face dirty, and her clothes looked as if she had been sleeping in a ditch. Even in the dim light, Jillian could see the crazed look in her aunt’s blue eyes.

  “Surprised?”

  Jillian tried to inch closer to Mick. A flash of lightening brightened the room, and Jillian saw the gun in her hand.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Jillian stilled, her panic tickling the back of her throat. She swallowed it. She needed to be smart to get out of here and save Mick.

  “It was you.”

  Blanche smiled. It was all teeth and almost as lethal as the weapon she held. “Yes. Always. I am always the one who has to get things done.”

  Jillian’s heart was beating so hard she was afraid she might pass out. She fought the tears that burned the back of her eyes. Showing Blanche her fear would be a mistake—one that her aunt would use.

  “How long have you known where I lived?” Jillian asked. She was proud of the fact that her voice wavered only slightly.

  “Four months.” She shrugged. “Not too hard to bribe someone for the information.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she asked in a parody of Jillian’s voice. “My whole life I spent trying to please that bitch. I did everything right. I went to the right school, pledged to the sorority my mother wanted me to, and I even married a man I loathed to please that bitch.”

  “Grandmother.”

  “Jesus, I was glad when she finally died. Truth be told, if she hadn’t died then, I was ready to do the job.”

  “You didn’t kill her.” Jillian knew that was a fact.

  “No, the cancer did that. Thank God. She deserved it, you know. She spent my life making me miserable. Until your slut of a mother ran off with your father. Oh, my, that pissed the old bitch off, and then, everything was wonderful. It was as if your mother was no longer alive.”

  “Then she wasn’t.”

  “She was going to change her will. You know that if Mother had died then, I was going to get everything. Then you were born. I’m sure that you don’t know that your bitch of a grandmother kept the announcement of your birth in her bedside table. As if she cherished you over my son.”