“It wouldn’t likely surprise anyone if something happened to her. You know, she probably has mob friends who are worried about her getting chatty with the wrong people, what with the notoriety of being on the front page of the Tattletale, and all. Like you say, in this day and age, she’ll likely get herself a real big platform, and that won’t make her unsavory friends very happy.”
Mills heard the calculation in the Congressman’s voice. “That’s a turn of events I never once considered, Congressman.”
“It may sound coldhearted of me, Frank, but under the circumstances, such a turn of events would probably prove to be beneficial for our purposes. Imagine, the country finding out that my dear stepdaughter ran away, fell victim to the users out there who turned her into a drug-addicted whore, and then, just as we were to be reunited, she falls victim one last, horrible time. That would make me seem very sympathetic, don’t you think? The voters would feel compassion toward me. I can win the election with a sympathy vote.”
You slimy son of a bitch. Mills had no doubt whatsoever that Congressman Thaddeus Bishop was a chameleon par excellence, a two-faced narcissist capable of portraying any emotion convincingly. A man only truly interested in his own ends.
How fitting, then, that the words Bishop had just spoken were enough for his own purposes. He said, “Sir, that is a truly shocking thought.” Then he turned off the recording function of his device. “But a very realistic one. We’ll have to see what fate has in store for that unfortunate young woman.” He turned on the recorder again, and waited. Bishop really was an idiot. Mills didn’t know how the man had even become a congressman in the first place, except that he’d happened to luck out and get his party’s nomination in a gerrymandered district.
In his opinion, Congressman Thaddeus Bishop was beyond a doubt the vilest man he’d ever met with aspirations to higher office. Fortunately for the country, if the congressman actually got elected to higher office, it would be Mills calling the shots, and not Bishop himself. Especially if the man was as stupid as he thought he was.
“Yes, we’ll have to see what fate has in store for her. In the meantime, I think I’ll draft my statement with regard to her death. After all, it’s surely only a matter of time.”
Got you! Mills turned off the recorder. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything more about her, sir.”
“I appreciate it, Frank, more than I can say. Good work.”
Frank held on to his temper as he ended the call. Stupid son of a bitch wants to treat me as if I’m a fucking lackey? We’ll see how he feels once the bitch is dead and I show him how I have his balls in a vise.
* * * *
Ari stared at the photograph. Words were simply beyond her. She felt her cheeks get hot and knew that part of the heat was embarrassment, and the other part of it anger.
Cord and Jackson had come into the spa and asked for a moment with her, in private. They’d looked so serious, she’d been afraid—foolishly, illogically afraid—that they’d come to tell her they’d changed their minds about this whatever-the-hell-it-was they were building together—that they’d changed their minds about her.
Instead, they’d told her that their privacy had been violated, and worse, that she had been exposed to the world—literally.
“The sheriff has been called in. They’re going to search that part of the pasture, see if they can find evidence of an intruder.” Jackson’s voice told her just how upset he was about this invasion of privacy.
Her eyes focused on the picture. She read the caption. She hadn’t been named, but anyone who knew her might recognize her, because the photographer had taken his time, and gotten a shot of them from at least three different angles. One of those photographs showed her face, although her mouth had been blacked out because at the time the picture had been taken, she’d had Jackson’s cock there.
Bastard had captured that moment when I’d looked up at him, willing him to come. A very personal and special moment, in her recollection.
“Damn it, sweetheart, say something.” Cord sounded desperate. “We’re so sorry. We both feel like hell that this happened.”
She didn’t doubt that they did. From the look of them they felt not only guilty but angry, and she would bet their anger eclipsed her own by more than a bit.
Ari hadn’t said anything because she was working hard to not “just react” without thinking. She had to suppress the instinctive knee-jerk response that would have had her lambasting them both. But she forced herself to step back and look at the big picture—no mental pun intended.
She couldn’t imagine living as these two men had lived over the last several years. She may have been isolated, afraid to let anyone close since running away from home. But in a very real sense, they’d been isolated, too. They couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without the possibility that someone, somewhere was waiting with a camera, ready to crash their party, turn their personal moments into public ones. They had no privacy and that didn’t seem right to her.
Celebrity would follow these men for a few years to come, at least. There would be times when, if they went to one of the larger cities, their private time could be co-opted. It had already happened once, and she’d been okay with it at the time. Was that because it hadn’t directly involved her? She recalled that as far as those enthusiastic young football fans at that roadhouse restaurant were concerned she hadn’t even existed. So was that it? Maybe that was a part of it. She’d like to think she had a more generous spirit than that, though.
So, mindful that the two men she loved totally and completely were hanging on tenterhooks waiting for her reaction, and also mindful that they both looked like they wanted to be sick to their stomachs over this crime against her, she tilted her head to the side, looked at the image again, and said, “Huh. My form is better than I thought it was.”
“What? What?” Cord sounded as if didn’t understand a word she’d just said.
“I mean, you don’t really know, especially if there’s no convenient mirror for you to check in, you really don’t know how you look when you’re making love. So I kind of wondered, because I don’t have a great deal of experience, you know? But yeah, my form is pretty good, I think. Should my back be more concave, as it would be if I pushed my ass up into the air more? What do you think?”
And then she met first Cord’s astounded gaze, and then Jackson’s, and gave them both the best smile she could muster.
“Ari Stein, I love you.” Cord pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She felt his trembling and understood how upset he’d been.
“You were really worried about my reaction, cowboy.” She stepped back and looked at them both.
“Fuck, yeah.” Jackson eased her gently into his arms. “I love you, Tink. You are our miracle. Swear to God.”
Ari hugged him back. She went up on her toes and kissed him. Then, to be fair, she kissed Cord, too. “It’s not your fault this has happened. We all three have been wronged, here. Make no mistake. I’m not thrilled that a whole bunch of people are looking at that, because that was a very private and special moment between us. But we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If it’s any comfort, sweetheart, Sheriff Kendall and his brother are extremely pissed,” Cord said. “Whoever it was who did this must have avoided coming into the town proper. Apparently they keep tabs on strangers who show up, and there haven’t been any since we’ve been in Lusty.”
“The photographer was trespassing on private property,” Jackson said. “Our cousins are none too happy about that little fact, either.” Jackson shrugged. “We’re not the only ones who like to take an intimate afternoon under the Texas sky.”
No, she’d bet that a lot of the lovers in this town liked to frolic from time to time out of doors. She’d heard more than one person say the residents had earned their town name, time and time again.
“I appreciate that everyone is upset about this. I’m actually pissed, too, but not with the two of you.” She looked down at the p
icture then back up at her men. “But what good is it going to do to try and find out who did this? Doesn’t the photographer have his name under the pictures? Won’t the publisher of this piece of shit paper tell you who it was?”
“No, and no, and that’s a surprise. You’d think anyone who’d snap that kind of a photo would be bragging about it. After all, a successful paparazzo can claim a higher dollar for his work,” Cord said. “Once he’s had an exposé like this—and what a fucking word that is—then he can get a bidding war going for his pictures, sight unseen.”
Ari didn’t mean to let her gaze keep straying to the photo, but it was kind of hard not to stare at it. She looked up at Jackson. “Have I ever told you that you have a really buff body?”
“Lord, woman.” He laughed, and shook his head.
Ari laughed, too, because he was blushing. She looked back down at the photo one last time. Then, to stop herself from staring, she turned it over—although she was kind of liking it more and wondering if they could have a copy framed and mounted somewhere. No. That’s just sick. Not because of the subject matter, but because some sleazeball had taken that picture. That thought brought her back around to her original question. “You’d think the person who did this would own up to it. It would put them in the spotlight, and why the hell else take the damn picture in the first place? The only reason I can think of not to, was that gaining the spotlight wasn’t his intent.”
“Why the hell else would someone take a picture like this?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t like to sound egotistical, Red,” Cord said, “but we’re kind of celebrities, and folks are always trying to get unique pictures of celebrities.”
“There are plenty of rags that’ll pony up the dollars to pay for whatever kind of picture a creep like him can get,” Jackson said. “The more successful he is, the more that his rep grows and the more money he makes.”
“While that’s all true, I was thinking about the situation minus the celebrity element. There’s a—I don’t know, kind of a shading of meanness to this, to taking this picture and giving it to a cheap sheet like the National Tattletale.” Ari pointed to the page. “Whoever took that meant us no goodwill. There’s almost a feeling of revenge to this.”
“Why would anyone want to seek revenge…” Jackson’s words trailed off and he seemed to be looking inward.
Ari watched his face, wondering where his thoughts had taken him. She saw the exact moment his personal lightbulb came on.
“Well, son of a bitch! What was the name of that pushy little dickless bastard who wanted to do that feature on us—without our permission? Remember him? He fucking stalked us a couple of years back.”
“Fuck, yeah, the guy who was with American Teammates.” Cord snorted. “But not for long after you got through reaming out his boss’s ass.” He looked at Ari. “The son of a bitch literally stalked us, under the guise of doing an ‘in depth’ article on the two of us. The only problem was, he forgot to get our permission for the piece, first. We couldn’t go anywhere without him on our ass. That”—Cord pointed to the paper—“could very well be his handiwork, because he was always snapping pictures.”
“We were used to having cameras go off in our faces,” Jackson said. “But he crossed the line when he started following some of our siblings.” Jackson nearly spat the words. “He hounded our baby sister, Veronica. That’s what finally pushed us over the edge on him.”
“Jackson got the little pissant fired.” Cord looked at his brother. “We’re particularly fond of Veronica.” Then he smiled at Ari. “We’re so proud of her. She’s an author. I can’t wait for you to meet her. I think the two of you will get along great.”
“Dwight Gilmore.” Jackson nodded, looking pleased he’d remembered. “If this was his work, he’s going to wish he’d never been fucking born.”
Ari didn’t begrudge their righteous anger. She understood that they were really pissed because of her. “But the pictures are already out there. What can you do, really?” Ari couldn’t see the point in pursuing the man. “Wouldn’t it be better to do nothing? To not even react?”
Cord shook his head. “No, Red. If we let this fly, then others will be encouraged to play copycat. We have to jump on this bastard with both feet—make his life such a living hell that others will think twice before they try to emulate him. We can sue him. And, we can bring pressure to bear so that he finds it awfully fucking hard to get work.”
“We can use our celebrity and the power of the family name to more or less blacklist the bastard,” Jackson said. Then he looked down at her and cupped her cheek. “The other thing you need to consider, baby, is that while you weren’t named this time, if the interest is there, this rag will try to find out who you are. Someone who knew you in Austin or Dallas is going to come forward and tell the world your name. It’s really only a matter of time.”
“That means that bastard who’s looking for you will find you.” Cord shook his head. “I should say those two bastards, since there are two of them. So from this moment on, sweetheart, we don’t want you to go anywhere alone.”
“They’re just looking for me. I have a feeling there’s the specter of political opportunism involved, on the part of dear old stepdaddy. Let him come. I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself. And then I’ll let the two of you have at him.”
Her men both grinned, and she much preferred that look on their faces than the one they’d arrived with.
“We know you think you can handle anything that comes your way,” Cord said.
“And for the most part, we have faith that you can,” Jackson said. “But if you don’t cooperate in this, and let us protect you the best way we know how, your ass will be grass.”
“And we,” Cord said, “will be the lawn mowers.”
Ari knew she could take care of herself. Yet she couldn’t deny that knowing these two men were her champions gave her a good feeling inside, one she wasn’t used to, but one she cherished.
She wanted whoever was looking for her to find her. Then she’d let her men deal with him, so they all could get on with their lives.
Chapter 19
The brothers Benedict seemed determined to keep her in their sights—directly or indirectly—twenty-four seven.
She thought she’d won a major battle the night before when she’d made them promise to continue working with Chase and Brian, and to let her get her own work done. They’d finally reached a compromise that if she let them take her to work each day and pick her up when she was done, they’d back off in between.
What she hadn’t understood was that if she wanted to be given her space, then she needed to cut a deal with the whole freaking town of Lusty, Texas.
She had her first clue at lunchtime, when she decided to head over, on her own, to Lusty Appetites, for something to eat.
“Hey, Ari, how are you doing? Heading over for some lunch?”
She’d met Cody Harper, of course. He was one of Rebecca’s husbands. She really liked Rebecca, and had already extended that friendship to both of her men. His greeting had surprised her because her thoughts had been wandering when she’d stepped out of the spa. She hadn’t even seen him coming down the sidewalk.
“Oh! Hi, Cody. What’s up?”
“Oh, not much. I’m heading over to the restaurant, too. You don’t mind if I walk with you, do you?”
“Of course not. How’s the house coming?”
“That Jordan, he certainly knows how to take care of business. He couldn’t build our house himself, because he was in the midst of a big commercial build in Waco. So he brought in a subcontractor to handle the project. It looks like we’ll be able to move in, mid-October.”
“That’s great.” Ari nodded to Colt Evans, standing across the street, chatting with Ryder Magee—who also looked over and nodded to her.
That’s odd. They’re just standing there, jawing. She wondered, briefly, why they would do that. They lived together, with their wife, Susan.
“We’re really looking forward to moving in.” Cody opened the door to the restaurant for her. “There’s my date,” he said, nodding toward Rebecca. “Thanks for the company. Have a good lunch.”
Ari didn’t often come to lunch alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her own company, because she did. But more often than not she came either with Carol or Tasha. But both women had agreed to see clients over their lunch hours today.
Ari usually liked to sit close by the big front window, but the seats there were all full up. So instead, she headed to an open table for two.
“Hey, Ari.” Ginny Kendall held out the menu. “Do you need to see this, or are you going to have the special today?”
Today’s special was burger and fries. Ari would be the first to admit that she didn’t have really good eating habits. A burger and fries tasted as good to her now as they had when she’d been a teenager.
“The special’s good, with Coke, please.”
“You sit tight. I’ll be right back with your drink.” Ginny smiled and then cupped her shoulder and squeezed—a silent gesture of sisterhood.
Looking around the dining room, Ari realized that she knew everyone there. She remembered thinking—the day she realized that she felt at home here in Lusty—that she’d come a long way without knowing it was happening at the time.
Now, realizing that she knew everyone here gave her a kind of comfort. She’d thought she might feel more than a little embarrassed today. Being a small town, everyone pretty much knew everyone else’s business. She didn’t doubt that by now, everyone in town at least knew about that scandalous picture, even if they hadn’t seen it. But unlike other small towns, no one took pleasure in knowing she and her men had had their intimacy stolen by a slimy photographer and splashed across the country.
Ari had come to understand that the people of Lusty were, to a one, incensed on her behalf. Each of her coworkers had hugged her that morning. The two clients she’d had so far today today—Isabelle Parker, Michelle’s mom, and Heather Jessop, Tracy’s mother—had told her that whoever dared to trespass on private property and snap that picture ought to be hung.
Love Under Two Quarterbacks [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 20
