The Messenger (Professionals Book 3)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "What can I do for you, dollface?"

  I resisted the urge to snap at him. Jules resisted the urge to curl her lip. But just barely. We both understood what was at stake here. Her whole savings. Her future the way she wanted it. That meant it all.

  Neither of us would risk that.

  "Yes, actually. You've been working with my fiancé," she declared, not so much as a hitch in her voice at the word. "About the building of our house," she added, reaching for her phone, producing a screensaver she hadn't changed yet - her and the jackass on the pier, her hair whipping back, both of them smiling, his arm tight into her hipbone.

  "Oh, right. Of course," Ron said, not losing the skeezy way he was eyeing Jules. "Matthew. He never mentioned a fiancé."

  "Oh, you know Matt. Kind of off in his own world. Anyway. I have a suspicion he did not go with the floors and counters I told him to pick. Would you mind showing me?" she asked, laying on the sweet pretty thick, something only me - who knew her best - knew was utterly fake.

  "Do ya want me to just show you the book? Or would you like to go see it in person?"

  "Oh, it would be great to see it in person. If you have a few minutes to spare for me."

  "Darling, we can take as long as you need," he offered as the secretary typed off something on her cell. "Do we want to bring your..."

  "Personal assistant," I supplied. "I'd rather stay here and catch up on some emails."

  "We won't be long," Jules promised, just barely stiffening as his hand found her lower back to lead her out the door.

  "Ugh, men," Abby declared, flinging her phone into her purse. "You put the lid on the honeypot, and they start threatening to go elsewhere."

  "If he uses cheating as a threat, maybe he isn't someone who deserves your honeypot," I suggested, watching as she nodded.

  "Damn straight. I'm gonna grab a coffee.You want one?" she asked, waving toward the open door to her boss's office where a Keurig machine was set up.

  "Got any hot chocolate pods?"

  "Hm," she mused, thinking on it for a long moment. "Maybe. I think we picked some up in case anyone brought their kids. I'll go dig around."

  "I appreciate it."

  She had barely crossed into the other room before I was up at her computer, doing a quick search for 'Matthew.'

  I found a number, took a quick picture of it, and rushed to get back to my seat before she knew anything was amiss.

  "You lucked out," she told me, handing me a styrofoam cup steaming and filled almost to the brim with hot chocolate.

  "Thank you," I told her,taking the drink, and waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

  "Can I say something?"

  "Sure," I agreed, glad for something to do other than listen to the clock tick, wondering what that sleazy fuck was saying to Jules, if he was putting his hand on her again.

  "I don't know if you have a close bond with your boss or not..."

  "We're pretty close," I offered, hoping it would give her the push she needed to say whatever it was she was contemplating.

  "It's just... that fiancé of hers..."

  "What about him?"

  "Well, there's no nice way to say it. But... he's a sneak."

  "A sneak?"

  "He was sniffing around. Caught him going through some files once when he thought he was alone in the office. And, well, he hit on me." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I know sometimes women don't want to hear those things from other women. But maybe she will believe it if it comes from you. If I was her, I would want to know."

  "I will see if I have any sway. I appreciate it. I never liked the guy either, but figured I was just being paranoid."

  "I just knew he wasn't being straight with me," Jules' voice declared as the door swung open. "He picked the subway tile!" she told me, making her voice sound exasperated, but amused even as her eyes looked close to rolling at the way Ron moved in close enough to her to brush her butt with his hip as he moved past.

  "Well, no worries. We caught it, darling. I will make a note about the changes. We'll keep it our little secret. You two can have that talk in private."

  "I really appreciate it. You've been so helpful. I've given him my number to keep me updated in case Matthew comes back and makes any other changes that I may not have agreed to."

  "Good idea. Better to have the argument now than have to live with subway tile for the next fifty years."

  "Exactly," Jules agreed. "You about ready? I have that meeting in an hour."

  "Yep. All set, I agreed, giving Abby a smile. "Thank you," I told her, waving the cup, but letting my voice fall heavy.

  Most people would have kept their mouth shut, let the weird feelings regarding the situation just fester, build into a small sliver of guilt that would nag them at random times. She didn't do that. She said something. The world needed more people like that.

  "Ugh," Jules growled as soon as she got in her seat, digging a bit frantically in her purse until she produced a small green bottle of hand sanitizer. "I need enough of this to bathe in," she declared, squirting it into her hands, then rubbing the glob all the way up her arms before working it in between her fingers and palms."Do they make hand sanitizer for your brain?"

  "What'd he do, Jules?" I asked, stomach turning over at the potentials.

  "No need to put your 'I will murder him' voice on, Kai," she told me, shooting me a small smirk. "He was just your garden variety sleazeball. Tried what he thought he could get away with. Made some gross comments about newlyweds breaking in their home. Nothing too crazy."

  My stomach eased up as I handed her my phone. "I got his number. And the secretary said he was a creep and manwhore. She wanted me to see if I could convince you of that before you went through with the marriage."

  "Everyone saw it but me," Jules grumbled, looking out her side window before seeming to shake off the dark mood. "So what now?"

  "Now I have the number traced. If he makes a call, it will ping on the closest cell tower. Then we can find him."

  "If he makes a call."

  "He'll make a call."

  "But who knows when, right?"

  Unfortunately, she was right. The waiting for people to surface part of the job was the longest and most frustrating. Maybe he would make a call while driving, ping off a tower towns or counties away from where he was actually setting up camp. You never really knew.

  "Tell you what... we already missed check-out for today. We can hang here one more night, see if he pings, we are close, can track it down. Hopefully track him down. If not, we will head back and wait. This isn't a matter of if, Jules, just when. We're going to find him."

  "Okay," she agreed, giving me a curt nod as we turned down the street toward the hotel.

  "Jules?"

  "Yeah?" she asked as we made it back into the room.

  "You need to call your mom," I reminded her, watching as she moved around in a sort of detached numbness.

  Angry, upset, even purposeful Jules, I could handle that. This? This cold, detached, automaton? This was bothering me. Worrying me.

  Because it would be too easy.

  To let this part of her become all of her.

  And that would be a goddamn tragedy.

  Her mom and sister would be good for her, shake her up, make it hard - if not impossible - to keep up the facade. Even if she didn't give them the real story, she would have to give them enough of it to convince them, to get their indignation up, to force them to get some anger or disappointment, or something, anything out of her.

  "Oh, right," she said, nodding, reaching for her phone, looking down at the screensaver for a long moment, face completely blank, before pressing her finger to the home button to unlock it, then scrolling through her contacts. "I'm just going to take a walk around the parking lot," she told me, already moving toward the door, not wanting to share this part of her life with me, something I had no right to be hurt by, but found myself being nonetheless.

  So I took a page from her book.

  I got
to work.

  I was only thirty minutes into it when my cell started screaming from its place on the nightstand.

  I didn't need to look.

  I knew it was Miller.

  "Hey, Miller."

  "You missed a hell of a party," she declared, voice rough like it always got when she had too much to drink. Jules' dad had sprung for an open bar. "Lincoln tried to run game on two of Jules' cousins. Who both had his number. And long story short, he ended up pants around his ankles tied to a tree in the woods being courted by a curious fox. While Finn cleared plates like part of the wait staff. And - miracle of all miracles, if you ask me - Sloane got Gunner to dance with her. Slow dance with her."

  "And you had too many glasses of tequila?"

  "Too many glasses of tequila? I had no plans of ending up bare-ass naked on a dance floor which we both know would be of high likelihood if I had too much tequila. Smith and I had scotch. Ranger even showed up for a bit, shifting uncomfortably in his seat like the mountain man shut-in he is. He hadn't gotten the news about the wedding being off. So what kept you? I thought you were going to try to make it."

  "I got a call. From Bellamy," I improvised.

  "Oh," she exhaled, sounding suddenly serious. "Is he reconsidering Quin's offer?" she asked, knowing how doggedly Quin had pursued Bellamy who was just as dedicated to dodging an offer that would fund the entire economy of a country while he bounced around the world like some boxcar hobo.

  "You know Bellamy. I need to tread carefully with this. I don't have any answers yet. I might be away for a few days though. You know how this goes."

  "I haven't seen Bellamy in years, but I vaguely remember waking up in three countries in as many days because of him."

  "I don't want to get Quin's hopes up, though."

  "Right. Yeah. I will just say you went to hang out with Ranger. No one will be any wiser."

  Since it was damn near impossible to get in touch with him. Most of the time, if you wanted him for a job, you simply had to park in the Pine Barrens then take the hours-long trek to his little ranch to tell him.

  "That's a good plan."

  "You'll keep in touch? Let me know how it goes?"

  "Of course."

  "Don't look away from your drink. Lincoln swears he put something in his beer last time they hung out. Ended up in Vegas with a mini pig and no memory of the previous twelve hours."

  I chuckled at that, totally seeing it as possible. "Well, can we really blame Bellamy for that? This is Lincoln we're talking about here."

  "This is true. Alright. Well, you two have fun. I am going to curl up under a cold compress and moan for the next few hours from all the fun I had last night."

  "Bananas and ginger, Miller," I reminded her, having practically needed to force them down her throat after a job in Russia where she was plied with enough vodka to send a man three times her size to the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

  "Yeah yeah yeah. I keep them on hand now. Don't end up in a hotel in Vegas. But if you do, I get to keep the mini pig."

  "I'll do my best," I agreed. "See you in a few."

  I had barely hung up when I heard the bleep of the keycard in the door.

  A different Jules walked in than walked out. It wasn't one that I wanted to see, but it was better than the other one.

  This Jules was red in the cheeks, was stiff in the shoulders, had her chin jutted up so high that it looked painful.

  "How'd it go?"

  To that, she exhaled hard, walking over to the window, kicking out of her heels, going up and down on her tiptoes several times to stretch out the aches.

  "They're worried about me. They told me how they both - both mom and Gemma - didn't like Gary. Gemma likes everyone. She thinks Gunner is charming. Gunner. Charming. And..." she trailed off, closing her eyes.

  "And what?" I prompted, sensing she needed the push.

  "He hit on Gemma!" she exploded, throwing an arm out toward the window, face crushed.

  "What?" I snapped, more than just surprised. Pissed. Gemma, who was like a little sister to everyone in the office, who - while she was technically of-age - was way too young, too sweet, too innocent to be hit on by some giant sleaze like Gary.

  "At work one night," she went on, turning to stare out the window. "Right under my damn nose. Cornered her at the coffee station, pressed her back against the wall, said something about how convenient all the empty offices were for a quickie."

  If I thought I was mad before, it was nothing compared to the way my blood was boiling then.

  It didn't take a genius to know how Gemma must have felt right then, trapped by her sister's boyfriend, too sweet to want to ruffle feathers by pitching a fit, feeling lost at what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to act.

  "He made it so my sister didn't feel safe telling me about how he had been inappropriate with her..."

  "Hey," I said, voice softer than I felt right then, moving up behind her. "You can't blame yourself for that. You didn't know."

  "I should have known."

  "How? By becoming a psychic? She didn't tell you, Jules."

  "She never should have thought that my feelings for some guy were stronger than my love for her. That was my screw up."

  "That's not fair. Your sister knows you love her more than anything. But you know Gemma. She doesn't like to rock the boat or upset anyone. And she knew if she told you, you'd have dumped Gary, and she didn't want to be responsible for that. This isn't on you. Stop taking things onto your shoulders that don't belong there. Pretty soon, you won't be able to carry it all."

  "I feel like I am drowning in all of this," she admitted, voice low, losing the rod that was usually implanted in her spine, her shoulders just barely brushing back against my chest. "Just when I start to surface, one more thing comes around to push me back under the water."

  The crying in bed episode aside, I didn't know the protocol, didn't know what indulgences she would allow, what she would deem appropriate.

  But, unlike all the nights over all the months over the years I had known her, I just plain didn't care.

  Taking a steadying breath, half-expecting rejection, I lowered my chin down on her shoulder, feeling her stiffen immediately, then slowly start to relax, actually leaning back into my body in the process. There wasn't even a hesitation before my arm went around her, giving her body a squeeze.

  "I'm not gonna let you drown, Jules."

  "That's not your job," she told me, but her voice didn't hold that sharp edge to it like it might if we were in a different place at a different time.

  "I don't look after you out of obligation. I do it because I want to."

  Arm around her lower belly, I could feel the slow, deep breath she took, holding it for a long second before exhaling in a way that made her body shake slightly.

  "Why do you like me, Kai?" she asked, making me almost shock back at the words, at the bluntness of them from someone who had always put blinders on and tiptoed around the issue.

  "What?"

  "Why do you like me? When I haven't done anything to encourage it. When I haven't lead you on in any way."

  I paused for a second, unprepared for this, this talk I had been dreading, the one she had seemed so glad to avoid ever having.

  What was there to say but the truth?

  "I don't like you because you like me, honey. I don't want you because you might want me back. I just like you because you're you."

  There was a pause, the room quiet, but my heart was slamming so hard in my ears that it was all I would have heard even if a war was raging outside our door.

  It felt like an eternity that we stood there, bodies touching, minds racing.

  Her voice was low, barely audible, when she finally broke the silence.

  "You don't want me to want you?"

  Her head had turned as she started speaking, her gaze finding mine over her shoulder. And I could have sworn I saw things there, things I had only gotten traces of before.

  Vuln
erability.

  And, dare I even think it, desire.

  There were no words for the electrical current that moved through my system, it vibrated at the tips of my fingers, my toes, my scalp, a surreal, overwhelming sensation I had never known could actually exist.

  "I wouldn't be presumptuous enough even to hope for it, Jules, but of course I would want you to want me."

  Her air shuddered out of her again, her lips pressing together then parting as her eyes found mine again.

  "Maybe I..."

  I didn't need more than that.

  I wasn't going to blow my shot for a second time.

  My free hand lifted, sliding up her jaw, lifting her chin slightly, hesitating only to see if there was a hint of rejection before pressing my lips down to hers.

  A tremble coursed through her body at the contact, making my fingers crush into the flesh of her hip, using it to turn her to face me fully, looping around her back instead, hauling her tightly against me as my head slanted, as my lips pressed harder, feeling hers beneath gain boldness, become demanding.

  Her hands, once balled at her sides, rose, both of them looping around my neck, pressing her body more tightly to mine.

  A low, throaty moan rose from deep in her chest, vibrating against my lips, ripping every bit of self-control I had left away as I moved forward, walking her back, pressing her up against the wall.

  Her gasp gave me an invitation for my tongue to move inside, stroking over hers as desire became a fire through my system.

  Jules's hands moved down my back, sinking into my ass, dragging me tighter to her body, my cock pressing hard at the juncture of her thighs. Her body shuddered at the contact, a sensation I had dreamed of for months, for years.

  It wasn't until her hands released my ass to snake up under my shirt, her fingers teasing over my skin that a thought was able to pierce through the veil of bliss that was a long-wanted dream coming true.

  She was hurting.

  And She was trying not to hurt.

  It was no coincidence that this happened when she had gotten off the phone with her family, learning yet more bad news about her ex.

  She wanted to forget for a moment, to get lost in something that felt good.