She groaned and rolled over. The sheets smelled like him and so did her skin. Her body ached in the most delicious way. The office, the wall, the bed. He took and took and took and she wanted to give him more.
She hadn’t seen much of the room last night. Slate gray walls, tray ceiling accented with white crown molding. The bed, platform with a leather headboard, austere and very masculine. It suited him.
God. “What time is it?” Time to get up and check on Allie.
She pushed back the covers and scooted out of bed to find her jeans and a sweater draped across an armchair by an alcove, socks tucked into her sneakers next to the chair. That was considerate. No walk of shame from his bedroom to hers. Add the coffee in the thermos and a blueberry muffin on a tray and it was downright sweet, romantic she’d dare say. She ate, then took a quick shower in an enclosure made for a deity. Fifteen pulsating shower heads surrounded by black marble. She exited the stall rejuvenated and relaxed.
The house was quiet, suspiciously. Something was wrong, she felt it in her bones as she quickly dressed. In the hallway, each step was carefully placed. Tempted to call out like they do in the movies—“Hello? Anyone there?”—she snapped her trap shut. This wasn’t a movie, and she wasn’t that dumb. But she was afraid, not terrified, but afraid.
Her rational mind told her she was overreacting. Her primitive mind warred over flight or fight. Both took a back seat to the maternal instincts roaring to the surface. Allie! Get to Allie!
It took everything she had to peer around the wall connecting the hallway to the bedroom to the spacious living room. Seated in a chair, a tablet balanced on his knee, waited Harden. With his eyes closed, he sat stiffly, completely at odds with the comfortable chair. His finger absently stroking the gold ring on his right pinky. He seemed tired, as if it took all his effort to sit there patiently and breathe. The rise and fall of his chest was slow…methodical, almost pained.
She approached him, the only sound in the house was her breathing, and the muffled brush of her feet on the carpet.
“Harden?” she whispered. His eyes opened slowly, and starting from her feet, his gaze coasted up her body. After last night, one would expect her skin to warm in reaction to his blatant perusal, her entire body to heat and desire to pool in her groin. None of that happened. By the time his eyes locked on hers, Jentry was a block of ice. And she was still warmer than his blue eyes.
Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t move. Someone was dead, she felt it, knew it. “What?” She demanded and received silence. “Just tell me.” Her mind whirled, bouncing from one name to the next: her mother, father, Jane, Josette, Jesenia, Calista. She could add more, but those were the only ones she couldn’t live without.
“Harden!” she shouted when his continued silence was louder than a scream because not knowing was worse than knowing, and right now, she was about to lose her shit.
Then she realized this wasn’t about someone she lost. This was about someone he lost. Oh God, it’s one of his men. Bruno, Nick, Pavel, Leonid, one of them must be dead.
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m so sorry.” The tablet tumbled to the carpet as she fit herself between his thighs and cupped his face. “Is it Nick? Pavel? Leonid?”
His brow drew together, and pain flared in the depths of his eyes.
“Oh no…” It was Bruno. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” It was empty and useless, but it was all she could say.
His eyes closed again, and his hands covered hers, squeezing gently, before he pulled away. When he opened his eyes, they were colder than ever. “The car is waiting downstairs to take you to Montauk.”
Surprised, yet not surprised, she sat back on her haunches. Of course, he would push her away instead of sharing his pain. She got it, she really did, but she wasn’t about to leave him when he needed her. “I’m not going. I won’t leave you when you need me.”
The front door opened, and Pavel entered. His steps faltered when he saw them, but he quickly looked away and headed for Harden’s office. Within seconds, Leonid followed. He didn’t meet her gaze. She didn’t expect him to. “Harden. I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here and I’m not going any—”
Bruno entered. His gaze unflinching as he took in Jentry on her knees in front of Harden. “Her bags are in the Range Rover and Quincy’s waiting.” Bruno headed for the office without waiting for an answer.
“Thank you,” Harden said.
Her mind a house of cards, Jentry lurched to her feet and backed away. All her assumptions were tossed into the headwinds, bitch slapping her. She wouldn’t ask another question when verbally and silently she’d asked enough without answers and yet, she understood. He wanted her gone. What had she done to deserve this? What happened between the time they made love and dawn? What changed?
“You’re leaving now.” His monotone voice gave nothing away.
“Why?” Seemed she did have another question.
His lips thinned as if he was holding something back, something he wanted to say, but shouldn’t, then, “I don’t want you here anymore.”
Her gut clenched as if punched. She could bullshit with the best of them, when prepared. She wasn’t prepared for this, not after last night. Not after the last few weeks of his concern and attentiveness for herself and Allie because he cared. He showed it in a million ways. That’s why her feet had grown roots and her brain had stalled. “I-I’m—” Confused. Humiliated. And slowly becoming enraged.
“Your belongings have all been packed and are already in the car waiting to take you to the beach house. Before you ask why, I did it because I can.”
The confusion and humiliation melted away, leaving pure, undiluted rage. Let it be known she never stayed where she wasn’t wanted.
Everything she thought was a lie. He’d led her on, made her believe in him, trust him, fall in— How fucking stupid could she be? She’d learned nothing, absolutely nothing after surviving Carl, to be bamboozled by another man. Harden got what he wanted, and he was done with her.
“You don’t want me here. No problem. Thanks for the room and board. I’ll just get my kid and be on my way, but I am not going to the beach house. No one on this planet gets to tell me what to do.” Especially not him.
She needed her daughter in her arms. After that, she’d make plans to go to a hotel to reassess her options. At least for a few nights to get her bearings. That was all that concerned her as she marched down the hall and stormed to the nursery.
It was empty. Not only empty, but the bed was taken apart and stacked in a corner. Her heart stopped, literally stopped, and then kick-started like a racehorse shot out of the start gate. The world blurred as she spun and threw herself at Harden. The motherfucker was behind her and ready. She fought like a girl, screeching, and swinging wildly. Calista had taught them better, instructing Jentry and her sisters how to protect themselves, but Jentry couldn’t put two and two together. She was all emotion and adrenaline, not an ounce of logic. She beat at him, her blows landing nowhere as he blocked everything except for the first few hits. Those, she hit him as hard as God allowed, landing a solid right to his jaw and a few blows to his chest. None of them hurt him, he just stood there and took it. He let her continue to swing but easily blocked each fist and slap thrown his way.
Until he’d had enough. He swept her feet from under her and followed her down to the floor. He used his body to pin her to the carpet. “Get off!” she screamed, bucking wildly, straining to free her hands stretched above her head. His entire weight dropped on her. Her breath left her in a rush, and for precious seconds she couldn’t breathe. Then he eased back, giving her starving lungs enough air to scream, “Help!”
The top echelon of the syndicate waited in his office and only God knew how many bodyguards waited in the hallway outside the penthouse. Not a single one came to her aid.
“Enough,” he said calmly, the antithesis to her near hysteria.
“Where is she! What did you do with Al
lie? If you hurt her—”
He scowled, and another flair of pain flickered in his eyes. “I would never—”
“Liar! You took her! You took my baby!”
“She’s at the beach house,” he stated. “With your parents, waiting for you.”
Jentry stilled and deflated like a leaking tire.
“You want your daughter. Then you’re going to Montauk.”
All options evaporated. Poof. “You piece of shit.” Damn right she was going to Montauk. “Get. Off.”
He didn’t move. “Jentry…” His tone now gentle with the barest hint of a plea.
She jerked her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. She couldn’t look at him, she wouldn’t. Stick a fork in her, she was done. Done with him. Done with everything. “I’m ready to leave. Get off me right now, please.”
He mumbled something like “I had to” and pushed away. Jentry scrambled to her feet and jetted to the door. She didn’t pause. She didn’t look back. Yanking open the front door, she found a troop of men waiting. They plastered themselves to the walls, creating a gauntlet of judgment to the elevators. Each and every one of them could kiss her ass. Head held high, she made it to the waiting elevator and took it to the parking garage where Quincy waited with the engine running.
Without a word, she climbed into the back seat of the silver Range Rover and buckled her seatbelt. In the privacy of the back seat, as the car pulled away, Jentry crumbled. She cried hard. She cried ugly, not giving a damn about the two men in the front seats. Every last one of them could suck her left nut because she had more balls than all of them combined.
Ninety minutes later, the iron gate of Julius Morgan’s sprawling beach house mansion opened. Bodyguards littered the property, but Jentry barely paid notice as the car rolled to a stop. Dry-eyed, she tore out of the car and rushed into the house. She didn’t have to search the mansion. Her mother was right there in the foyer with Allie in her arms.
“I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t worry because Mr. Gage called and said you’d be here as soon as you woke.”
None of that mattered as she snatched her baby into her arms and crumbled onto the marble floor. Rage takes a lot of energy and was unsustainable long term. Having Allie in her arms, the emotion bled out of her, leaving her a weak and trembling wreck.
“How did she get here?” She managed to say through broken sobs.
“The nanny brought her. Six in the morning the doorbell’s ringing. I wasn’t worried with all the guards, but it was unnerving. She stayed until Mr. Gage called and said you were on your way.”
With her mother’s help, Jentry climbed to her feet. It was 11:00 a.m., and the house was silent. No one except her mother witnessed her breakdown. “Where’s everybody?”
“Josette and Jesenia are asleep. They won’t leave their bedrooms until two if I don’t make them. Your father and Jane are working. What happened, Jentry?” Laverne said carefully as she studied her second born.
Jentry couldn’t tell her mother she’d made a fool of herself, again. She couldn’t tell her she’d foolishly let her heart get involved, again. What could she say? She loved hard, probably always would. Thank God and every angel she hadn’t said the L-word to him. She’d thought it, felt it in her heart, but it had never passed between her lips.
And it never would. Not for him or any man. Never again.
“Did he hurt you, baby?” her mother asked when Jentry ignored the first question. This question she had to answer because her mother was two seconds from marching out the door and getting herself killed. She wouldn’t hesitate to walk up to Harden and beat him senseless or die trying. No one messed with her kids. That’s why her mother could never know the full extent of what Carl did to her.
Two women swinging on Harden all before noon… No, that wouldn’t fly. “No, Mom,” Jentry said.
Her mother planted her hands on her hips and glared at Jentry. On a good day, Laverne Playne was an immovable object. On a bad day, she was an unstoppable force.
Today, Jentry needed neither. She just needed her mom. “He didn’t hurt my body, just my heart.”
The blistering glare dropped from her mother’s face. “Oh, baby.” Her arms were long enough and strong enough to hold both her daughter and granddaughter, and smother them in unending, unconditional love.
Damn him! Jentry hated, positively hated, admitting Harden was right. The beach house was exactly where she needed to be.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Jentry glanced over her shoulder at Quincy guarding her rear. He was probably right, especially since it was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. However… “I didn’t ask for your two cents. So, keep your pocket change to yourself.”
She opened the door and strode into the shop. The day after being kicked out of Harden’s penthouse and his life, she woke with a new sense of purpose and urgency. Google helped narrow the options. A phone call to three different places and an offer to pay double the price finally got her an appointment for that day. Whether Quincy or anyone else thought it was a bad idea was irrelevant. Her body belonged to her, and she did what the hell she wanted to do with it. Plus, it was time, time to reclaim all the broken little pieces scattered all over the place.
She walked up to the receptionist lounging behind the desk. “Hello, I’m Jentry Playne and I have an appointment with Dawn.”
The receptionist looked up from her magazine to take in Jentry and Quincy. She was a big girl. Not fat, but tall and broad. She unfurled from the chair and strolled over to Jentry and Quincy. Brown crew cut, eyebrow, nose, and lip pierced, with colorful sleeves covering both her arms, she was a living billboard and a walking, talking badass though she had yet to say a word. “I’m Dawn.” She spoke around the toothpick in her mouth. “You said you want a cover-up.”
“Yes. It’s for my upper back.”
Dawn glanced behind Jentry at Quincy. “Awright. You and your guy follow me.”
“I’m her bodyguard, not her guy.”
Was that regret in his voice? Jentry glanced at him.
“I’m going to check out the back, make sure it’s secure.”
Jentry and Dawn watched him stroll down the hall and glance into the three open rooms and the storage closet at the end.
“All clear,” he said, returning to guard her rear.
“I’m so relieved.” Dawn cocked her head to the first room on the right. “Follow me.”
Jentry entered the room expecting the usual tattoo parlor equipment and wasn’t disappointed. “Why do you need a bodyguard? I need your money, but I need my life more.”
Understandable. “It’s a precaution. I’m the cousin of someone dating a powerful man whose life is in danger. We’re trying to prevent collateral damage.” It was all a crock of shit, especially since the twins—Bresnik and Fisnik—were dead.
Unimpressed, Dawn sighed. “Show me what I’m working with.”
Jentry stripped off her coat and sweater, then turned, showing off her back and prepared for judgment.
“The letters aren’t bold, thick. That’s fortunate. I can cover that. It’s gonna be a large piece, more than one sitting.” Dawn’s raspy voice held not a note of disgust or pity. Jentry liked that.
“I figured. I looked through your online catalog and I have some ideas.”
“Awright. Put your sweater on and meet me at the counter. We’ll find a design and talk business.”
Ninety minutes later, Jentry was flat on her stomach with the stencil applied.
“Ready?” Dawn asked, already in position with the needle in her hand.
Funny how Jentry once hated needles. “Yeah.”
It didn’t take long for the initial bite of the needle to fade, leaving a tingly numbness as the buzz of the tattoo gun lulled her into the zone between sleep and wakefulness.
Her mind drifted to random things: potential college classes for business, how to afford it, bills, the
new apartment she had an appointment to view on Saturday, Allie trying to walk, Carl vanishing but not gone. The man was like herpes. Just because you couldn’t see it, it was still there, festering.
Eventually, regardless of how she tried, her mind veered left, taking her to Harden. Why did it have to hurt? She’d promised herself no man would ever have the power to hurt her again. And what happened?
Harden-fucking-Gage. She hated him. God, she hated him so much. Lie. Lie. Lie. Yet still the truth. Her eyes misted. Good thing she could blame it on the needle piercing her skin.
The buzzing stopped. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Wait by the desk.”
“I’m not here for you.” The deep voice wrapped around Jentry like a vise and yanked her out of the zone.
Thank God Dawn had stopped tattooing because Jentry jerked around. He was here, in the flesh, in the room with her looking like he stepped off the cover of GQ. It wasn’t fair that her thoughts could conjure him out of thin air. Let’s see if it were that easy to get rid of him.
“Leave.”
His gaze roamed the room, landed on Dawn, then settled on Jentry. “Give us a moment, please,” he said to Dawn.
She looked at Jentry and asked, “This CDJ?” She cracked her knuckles.
Harden stiffened. His gaze now glacial as his upper lip curled in a scowl.
Women united. Go girl power. Jentry thought Dawn would do it and wouldn’t that be a sight. “No. He’s a different asshole.”
Dawn snorted and moved the toothpick from one side of her mouth to the other. “You gotta pick better men, girl.”
Ain’t that the truth. “It’s okay. He’ll be gone in a moment.”
Dawn frowned, as if disappointed she wouldn’t brawl today. “Bathroom break. I will be back in five.”
Harden scoffed and stepped aside for Dawn to exit.
“Did Quincy call you?” She felt betrayed. Quincy was her bodyguard, even if Harden paid his salary. His loyalty should be to her. Obviously, it wasn’t.
His gaze skimmed down her body. Great time to realize she was in her bra, but she refused to be embarrassed. He’d seen her in less. He shook his head. “No. He didn’t.” Which made her retract the string of curses gathering in her head. She liked Quincy, but no one betrayed her and got away with it. Harden’s man or not, he would’ve been gone.
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 29
