GRAY WOLF SECURITY, Texas: The Complete 6-Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  I watched her leave the apartment, becoming aware of Tierney watching us from the archway of the kitchen. She licked her lip as our eyes met, studying me like she was thinking about that kiss earlier. I was, too. The idea that she might have enjoyed it, that she might want to try it again, made my balls tighten. But then I remembered once more that she was a client—and I didn’t do that sort of thing with my clients.

  I snatched my computer up off the coffee table and went into the spare bedroom, leaning against the door with this feeling like I’d just made a huge mistake.

  Why couldn’t this be like the other times in the last six months that a client came on to me? Why couldn’t I brush off the little looks, the little innuendoes, make it like they didn’t matter? Why did I think about her almost constantly, even when we were in the same room with each other?

  Sometimes, when we were at her office, I would find myself watching her. She had this habit of chewing on the end of her pens. It was sexy, the way she ran her tongue over the end of the pen cap. It made me think of things…I really shouldn’t let my head go in that direction.

  I hadn’t been with anyone since Knox—and that had been a casual thing that didn’t really mean anything. Just one night, two friends blowing off a little steam. And before that…shit, it’d been a while. Knowing what had happened to Vanessa, seeing the photos the cops had taken, it made sex something that was less appetizing than it’d been before. Not that I was ever that promiscuous. There were a couple of girls before the Navy and this one girl I saw on leave multiple times during my service. But there really hadn’t been anyone since then, except Knox. Not because there were no offers, but because…well, Vanessa took up a lot of my time and my thoughts. Didn’t leave room for women.

  I hadn’t even been tempted. There was one client, a CEO of some real estate company, I spent three weeks with, day and night. She came on to me relentlessly the entire time, but I never even thought about it. And this other woman, a doctor who worked surprisingly short hours. She had a habit of coming out of her bathroom in nothing but a towel. But again, not even tempted.

  But two days with Tierney and I was like a teenage boy who’d just had his first wet dream.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Chapter 8

  Tierney

  It was incredibly difficult to be in the same room with a man I was attracted to and pretend that I didn’t notice how tight his gluts were or how sexy he looked in his suit. For almost a week Alexander had been following me around, and I was finding it impossible to sleep at night knowing that he was just feet from me. He must have thought I was something of a clumsy idiot because since I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t keep my head on straight most days. I was constantly forgetting things and having to ask him to go back to my office to get it, or cursing under my breath whenever I screwed up the brief or whatever I might be writing on my computer. And he’d had to grab my arm to keep me from falling flat on my face more than once in the last few days.

  But he avoided personal conversation now, and when we were at my apartment, alone together, he would often disappear into the guest bedroom as soon as we got there. We’d have meals together—usually with him cooking—but we wouldn’t talk, and he would disappear again once it was done. I was beginning to feel like a leper or something.

  He’d disappeared into the spare bedroom immediately tonight, not even coming out for dinner. I ended up eating leftover pasta salad from the night before, sitting alone on the couch, staring at the brief I’d been working on all day and still couldn’t make heads or tails of. I finally gave up and went to bed, but I could hear him talking on the phone through the walls.

  I tried to imagine what his girlfriend looked like. I assumed she was beautiful, a tall, slender Latin woman. But I couldn’t really see him with someone like that. I don’t know why. And then I tried to imagine a shorter, less perfect woman, but that didn’t seem right either. I just couldn’t imagine the kind of woman he might be attracted to. Maybe it was because I didn’t want him to be attracted to anyone.

  I was being childish. It was naive to assume a man who looked like that was single.

  I rolled over, kicking off the covers. The clock read just after midnight. I had to be back in arraignment court in the morning. My client, Brendan Harmon, had been picked up this afternoon for drug possession. Since he was already on bond for the breaking and entering charge, the prosecutor wanted his bond revoked. Brendan, however, claimed that the drugs weren’t his. He claimed he was set up and that was very likely, considering the fact that the cops believed he’d kidnapped the little Peterman girl. I had to be at the county jail by seven in order to see him before the arraignment.

  I needed sleep. But I wasn’t getting it.

  I threw myself onto my back just as my bedroom door opened. I sat up, catching Alexander a little off guard as he came toward my bed.

  “Sorry,” he said, mumbling something in Portuguese under his breath as he continued to approach me. “I have to go out for a few minutes.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few minutes.”

  “But isn’t the whole point for you to stay close to me?”

  He tilted his head slightly. “It is. But I…” He hesitated. “I have a family problem to deal with and there’s no one else to do it.”

  “So take me with you.”

  He turned away just slightly, the hesitation much too obvious in his movement.

  “You’d be safer here.”

  “But if you’re not here, who’ll protect me if the alarms start going off?”

  He groaned, as he dragged both hands over his skull. His eyes fell to me, moving slowly over my face and lower. It was then that I realized I was wearing a camisole that didn’t do much to hide the fact that my nipples were hard and standing up to greet the world. I automatically crossed my arms over my chest, and that made him look away. I regretted the movement then, wishing he would look anyway. But then I had to remind myself that the man had a girlfriend and, even if he didn’t, I was probably about as far from his type as a woman could be.

  “Get dressed,” he practically barked at me. “We need to go now.”

  His phone began to ring as he left the room. I heard him answer, saying to whoever was on the other end, “We’re on our way, baby girl.”

  His girlfriend. He was dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night to go see his girlfriend? The idea pissed me off, made me want to march out there and tell him I was paying him to be here, to protect me. I wasn’t paying him to go on a booty call from his girlfriend.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed a cardigan, the words on the tip of my tongue, but then I stormed into the living room and found him pacing like an expectant father. Only there was a look on his face that suggested that something wasn’t quite right. He seemed deeply concerned about something. Worried. Maybe even a little scared.

  To see a man like Alexander so clearly upset was almost humbling. I didn’t say anything as he escorted me out of the apartment.

  I watched his hands on the steering wheel as we drove across town. He was gripping it tightly, but then rolling his hands, as if he was nervous or angry. And he would lean forward like the movement would get us to our destination faster.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  He didn’t answer me. In fact, he didn’t say a word until we were coming to a stop in the driveway of one of those brick, cookie-cutter houses that seem to spring up in neighborhoods all over any major city.

  “Stay here,” he barked, as he climbed out of the car and marched up to the front door.

  I saw him pause and speak to the eaves of the house, then go inside. I’d never seen so much odd behavior in one night.

  I waited. I studied the house next door. It looked exactly like this one, but it didn’t have a bay window in front. The cars parked outside were generic sedans, the same sort of cars that were sitting in most of the other driveways.
There were lights on inside the neighbor’s house, but just one or two. Every light seemed to be blazing inside the one where I sat. Waiting.

  I wondered what the hell was going on. If this was just a booty call…but I really didn’t think it was. And I wanted to know the truth.

  Despite Alexander’s barked order that I stay in the car, I climbed out of it and went up to the front door. It was still ajar, just an inch or two. I pushed it open and stepped inside. The living room was incredibly clean and neat. There wasn’t a single carpet fiber out of place. The couch was a light tan that had absolutely no stains. There were small tables scattered around the room, each one polished and clear of any ornamentation or magazines or whatever. The fireplace in the corner was so clean it looked like it had never been used. And the television…I’d never seen a television screen that didn’t have at least a few fingerprints on it. But not this one.

  The kitchen tucked behind the living room was the same way. Not a hint of dirt or grime, no crumbs. Nothing. There wasn’t even bread or a dish drainer sitting on the counter. The room almost looked unused.

  I needed to hire this lady’s housekeeper!

  I heard voices as I moved around the little dining area. Alexander’s and a woman’s high-pitched voice. I recognized the sound of emotional distress. I’d interviewed my fair share of clients in a similar state of distress after just having been arrested. I knew the sound well.

  I stepped into the hallway. It was a long, narrow hall with three doors opening off to the sides and one at each end. The doors were open, and I could see that there was the normal hall bath and spare bedroom. There was an office set up in the other bedroom. At the far end of the hall was the laundry room with a door opening onto what I assumed would be the garage. The other end…it was the master bedroom, and Alexander was on the bed with a woman just like the one I’d sort of envisioned as his girlfriend. Tall. Latina. Drop dead gorgeous.

  My heart leapt into my throat and then fell quickly to the pit of my stomach.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” the woman kept saying over and over again, her voice choked with emotion. “I know you’re working. I know I shouldn’t have called you.”

  “It’s okay, Vanessa.”

  “No,” she moaned. “It’s not okay.”

  He held her close to him, her head cradled on his shoulder. She was folded in on herself, like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. There were tears just pouring down her face, and she was chewing on her fingers, biting them almost roughly as she tried to hold the sobs inside.

  “It’s not your fault,” Alexander said, his tone so soft and gentle I almost didn’t recognize it. “You didn’t ask for this. None of it.”

  “I’m trying to get better. I just…I can’t stop thinking about him out there somewhere.”

  “I know, baby.”

  “What if he comes back? What if he gets into the house?”

  “He won’t. I won’t let him.”

  “But what if you’re not here?”

  “That’s why I installed the cameras. The alarms will let me know the instant someone comes near the house.”

  “But what if he—?”

  “Vanessa, we’ve gone over every scenario. You know you’re safe here.”

  I backed away from the door, suddenly feeling like I’d intruded on something I wasn’t meant to know about. But as I did, I hit my back on a doorknob protruding from a hall closet.

  “Who’s there?” the woman—Vanessa—called out in a voice just short of hysterical.

  Alexander came charging out of the room and grabbed me as I tried to turn the corner into the kitchen. He shoved me hard up against the wall.

  “What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay in the car.”

  There was so much tension in his face that I just wanted to give him a little comfort. I wanted to make it all go away. So I touched him, running my fingers slowly over the curve of his jaw. He seemed a little confused by that, like he didn’t know what to do with something so tender.

  “Alex?”

  He turned his head, glancing toward the hallway. Then he focused on me again. He kissed me, roughly, his lips hard, almost desperate. And then he pushed me toward the living room.

  “Sit on the couch and stay there. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked away, and a second later I heard him tell Vanessa that it was only his client.

  “She’s here?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t leave her alone.”

  “Can I meet her?”

  “Vanessa…”

  “I want to meet her.”

  It was an abrupt change in attitude, but when they came out of the bedroom and I saw her face, I think maybe I understood. She needed the distraction; she needed something to pull her head out of her own fear.

  She was shorter than Alexander by almost a foot, making her a few inches shorter than me, too. She had jet black hair that fell long down her back and intense brown eyes that were very much like Alexander’s except that they lacked the long eyelashes that adorned his. She was painfully thin, but her body hinted at the curves she would have if she ate a little more. She was beautiful, even with the thick, ropy scar that marred the right side of her face.

  “Vanessa, this is Tierney Michaels. Tierney, this is my sister, Vanessa Garcia.”

  “Vanessa Garcia Holt,” she corrected her brother, as she moved in front of me, her hands held behind her back. “Just because he dropped our father’s name, doesn’t mean I did.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Vanessa,” I said, standing, but making no move to touch her.

  “I didn’t realize you were here. I apologize for making you wait.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  She inclined her head a little, her eyes darting all over the room as though she thought I’d brought some sort of threat into the house with me. She was shaking, too, her knees weak enough that I was a little concerned she might fall down. The way she refused to look me in the eye, the way she kept looking at the front door, made it very clear to me that she’d been brutally attacked at some point in the not so distant past.

  That was another part of my job. I had to interview victims of violence quite often. Not all of them were telling the truth, but I could always tell the ones who were by the very same characteristics I was seeing in Vanessa right now.

  What ever happened to Alexander’s sister was very dark, very brutal.

  “You have a very beautiful home,” I said softly.

  Vanessa glanced at me, holding my eye for just a second. “Thank you.”

  “You keep it so clean. I wish I had half your talent with cleaning.”

  She blushed, but then she smiled. “I like to clean. Always did.”

  “Maybe that’s my problem. I hate cleaning.”

  Her smile widened. “A lot of people do.”

  “That’s what makes you rare.”

  She looked at me for a long moment. “Alex says that you’re a lawyer.”

  “I am.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Most of the time, yes, I do.”

  She gestured at Alexander. “Maybe you can teach this one that not all lawyers are bad people.”

  “I’m trying, but I’m not sure I’m finding much success.”

  “He has a hard head. You have to really pound it in.”

  Alexander shook his head, lifting his hands to touch his sister, but catching himself at the last second.

  “Okay, Vanessa. If you’re done bashing my character to my client, I think I should probably get her back home.”

  Tension rushed through Vanessa’s body like a spark through an explosives factory. She turned to him, clearly ready to protest. But then she glanced at me and caught herself.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said softly. “But Knox will be by tomorrow?”

  “She will. I told you, she’s on a case right now, but it should be wrapped up by morning and she’ll come straight out to play cards w
ith you.”

  Vanessa’s head fell a little. She clearly didn’t like the idea, but she wasn’t going to argue in front of me.

  “Have you ever had a sleepover?” I suddenly asked, not even sure where I was going with the idea.

  “Not since I was a little girl.”

  “Me either. Why don’t we do one tonight?”

  Her eyes brightened with the idea. “Really?”

  “We could do each other’s nails and tell silly stories.”

  Alexander started to argue, but then Vanessa grabbed my hand. She pulled me down the hallway to her bedroom, closing it in Alexander’s face when he followed. I laughed, tickled by the expression on his face in the seconds before the door closed. I turned to Vanessa and found her already pulling nail polish out of a well-organized box kept on a shelf under her television.

  “Blue?”

  ***

  Vanessa didn’t like being touched, but she didn’t mind touching others. She did both my fingers and toes before falling back against the pillows, mumbling something about her medication finally kicking in. I pulled a blanket up around her shoulders and watched her as she fell into a deep sleep. There was a clear resemblance between her and Alexander. I didn’t know why I didn’t see it immediately. They had the same bone structure, the same funny point at the front of their hairline, the same smile.

  My heart ached for Vanessa. I could only imagine the violence that had touched her world that made her this Jekyll and Hyde sort of personality. How hard it must be on Alexander to be her caretaker. I couldn’t imagine it, not even when I tried to picture my mother in this sort of mental condition. It wasn’t possible.

  I stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed as quietly as I could. The lights had been turned out, only a few nightlights scattered through the hallway and various rooms to guide my way. I found Alexander in the bedroom that had been converted into an office, sitting at a small student desk in front of a desktop computer. I moved up behind him quietly, not to spy on him, but to keep from startling him. But my silence allowed me to see what he was doing.

  He was tracking some guy named Justin Fuller. The software he was using…it must have come from the GWS 2 because it wasn’t anything I’d ever seen before. But the screen displayed this man’s social security number, his cell phone number, and his current location.