Broken Build (31 page)

Dave closed his eyes. “Sorry, I forgot. You want to come with me to get it?”

“Not really. I’m cruelly harassing you, causing you mental pain and anguish, sabotaging your company and giving code to your competitors. Don’t give me a chance to rob you blind and set fire to your house.” She stood behind him as he stared at his feet.

Each word stabbed and twisted like a shish kebob skewering his heart over an open flame.

“What more can you do?” he blurted. “You’ve already stolen my heart.”

A tidal wave of yearning slammed his chest, threatening to bring him to his knees. He wanted this woman. Why couldn’t she be someone else? His head spun and he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Are you all right?” She touched his lower back, sending a network of electrifying sparks around his torso.

“No, I need my daughter back, and I need your help.”

“I’d help you, but you think I’m working with the kidnappers.”

Anguish crowded his heart. “I don’t know what to think. I found your secret cell phone hidden under your pillow. The man said he’d provide DNA if you kept your part of the bargain. What did he mean?”

“Shit, where would he get the DNA?”

Dave grabbed Jen’s arms. “That’s what I’m asking you. Owen said you got a brush. Where?”

“You’re not going to believe this. But remember Alex, your Little Brother? His mother, Patricia Brown, is friends with Sherry and they were here at my apartment this weekend.”

“Here?” His palms tingled. “What color hair does Sherry have again?”

“Blond. Listen, I have a DNA sample.” She ran to her bedroom and he followed. “Alex’s mother was brushing the girl’s hair with this brush and I bagged it.”

Jen held up a plastic baggie with a blue brush. Dave took it from her. “We have to get this analyzed.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Now that you’re here I won’t have to use the blood on the sweater.” She held up another bag with the sweater she had on when the attack happened.

He opened it. Soft cashmere. Ruined. They had been kissing when the shooting started. “I’ll buy you another one. I’m sorry I suspected you. Sometimes I get so confused. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

She stepped back. “You’re under a lot of stress. Should we hand everything to the police?”

“No! No police. We don’t want them to run off. Phil investigated them. The girl, Cookie Brown, moved here from Texas about three years ago. She goes to a local elementary school.” He lowered his head. “She’s probably not Abby. Anyone could have downloaded the pictures and made the slideshow.”

“Oh…” Jen’s shoulders slumped.

He could tell she was disappointed, that she genuinely wanted to find Abby. “Let’s wait for the kidnappers to deliver what they think is the DNA and go from there. By the way, what was your end of the bargain?”

She slunk past him. “To give them a good build.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He followed her to the kitchen, his voice harsher than he intended.

“Are we finished now?” She crossed her arms. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Jen, can you forgive me?” He palmed his forehead. He was pathetic. He’d hurt her with his accusations. Accusations he didn’t really believe. Jennifer had been kind, never devious, sweet and loving to Abby. She didn’t steal his heart, no, his heart whimpered like a puppy craving for affection. He wanted to hear her say she loved him again.

She stared at him, considering. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through.” Her expression softened and she touched the gauze strip on the side of his temple. “The bullet grazed you?”

The wound throbbed, but not as much as his heart. He took her hand and held it still. “You said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

Her hand shook and her breath caught as she nodded. “I did, but you should leave.”

No, no. He couldn’t leave. Not when every cell of his cried to hold onto her. “Say it again.”

“What does it matter?” Her voice cracked.

“Because, maybe I can believe it, that you wouldn’t hurt me again.”

She lowered her face. “I never wanted to hurt you. But even if we find Abby, it won’t make up for what I’ve already done.”

He tipped her chin and pulled her toward him.

* * *

Warmth flowed over Jen as she leaned to kiss him. How could she resist him when her heart was already his? Tender and tingly, his kisses swirled like a lover’s hand, carefully removing layers from her heart, peeling off her defenses, and threatening to undress her soul. Tugging and flicking, he gave her a taste of his tongue, entreating her to take a leap and heal his brokenness.

Yet she could not let him penetrate. No, not all the way. She couldn’t live with losing him. Not if she gave her entire being to him.

Kisses trailed sweet delight down her neck. His hands slid under her sweater, skipping over the healing cuts and cupping her breasts. Jen’s knees liquefied, and a web of tingles flushed her entire chest and trickled down to curl her toes.

He lifted her and placed her on the counter, opening her legs as he stepped between her thighs. Heat suffused her, and her breathing quickened. The sweater was suddenly too warm. His thumbs flicked her erect nipples, and his mouth nibbled her earlobe, filling her with a surge of agonizing want for denied pleasures.

He removed her sweater and fumbled with the hooks in her bra. The light touch of his lips over her shoulders and neck aroused her to a fevered pitch. His mouth returned to hers, swallowing her involuntary moans. He ripped the bra off with a snap and before she could protest, his hot tongue wrapped around her sensitive nipple while his other hand teased and massaged her to the point of swooning. Her breath panting for more, Jen pulled off his polo shirt and clutched at his firm, tight physique.

Her jeans constrained her as she tightened her legs, centering herself along his hardness, tearing a cry from her throat. With an almost feral grunt, he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom.

A nagging alarm jogged her brain during the short walk. He laid her on the bed, and nervousness shook her shoulders. She tensed and swallowed hard. How quickly would he walk away afterward?

“What’s wrong?” he said. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Too good and frightening.

His grey eyes glittered. “Not just good, but right.”

Jen suddenly felt naked, empty, and she pawed at the sheets to cover herself.

“You don’t want this?” he asked, eyes full of concern.

She trembled. Half of her wanted to let go, to experience being loved, of having a man fill her and value her, if only for a brief moment. She would regret letting this moment pass.

“I do, but what happens when you’re done with me?”

He hid a scowl behind his hand and sat up. There, she’d ruined the moment. Now she’d never know. She stared at the sheet covering her belly, still itching with scabs from the healing cuts.

He stroked her long hair and arranged it on the pillow and over her shoulders. “You make it sound like you’re a disposable utensil. Is that how I come across, as a user?”

Well, now that he put it that way… there was Claire, Melissa, Sheila, and God knew how many others he’d seduced. “Are you?”

He rolled to his side. “You might find it hard to believe, but the only woman I’ve completely made love to was my wife.”

“I don’t want to know.” He had a twisted way of defining love. This wasn’t about love then, just sex. The only woman he’d ever love was Jocelyn. He’d told her that already.

He cuddled up to her and made small, feathery circles on her collarbone. “But I can pleasure you, make you lose yourself.”

His fingers walked between her breasts and fluttered down the side of her ribcage to her hips, then traced her waistband and unzipped her fly. A flurry of sparks zigzagged from her nether regions, but Jen didn’t dare let him touch. For she would be forever lost, spinning out of orbit, flung off into another universe. And wake to find him gone.

He tilted her chin, his eyes darkening. “Let me make you happy.”

Jen swallowed. “I don’t have casual sex.”

“I respect that.” He kissed her on the lips and pulled her to a sitting position. “I want to know what it’s like to be in love with you first.”

A part of Jen’s heart sunk. This was the best he could do.

Chapter 31

Sunday morning, Dave drove toward his house to collect Jen’s luggage. His back ached from sleeping on the couch. She was right to deny him. He’d spent the night to ensure she was safe, but snuck away before she woke. He gunned his accelerator and swung around the oleander bushes onto his driveway, almost rear-ending a white news van.
What the hell?

Reporters and cameramen rushed him. His hired security guard cleared a path so he could step out of his car. A crowd of gawkers pointed cell phone cameras at him.

“Step aside, step aside,” the guard warned as Dave walked up the driveway.

“Any comments on the bidding war between OgleNet and Lystra?”

“Who set fire to your data center? Have they been caught?”

“Now that Shopahol is an internet sensation, any hint at when you’ll IPO?”

Dave waved them aside with short ‘no comments.’

“Why did your girlfriend shoot your mistress?”

“What about the code you stole from BuyFriend? Think they can shut you down?”

His face burned, and he shoved the microphones out of his way.

A gangly red-headed punk with gapped teeth scurried under the elbows of the other reporters and blocked his path. “Didn’t your wife die from a hit-and-run?”

Dave froze as if an icepick had skewered his heart. “Leave my wife out of this.”

“Then teach your girlfriend how to drive better,” the young man jeered from behind his video camera.

He swatted the camera and punched the creep in the nose. Flashes blinded him, and the guard grabbed his shoulders. “Come on, get inside.”

The red-headed guy writhed on the ground making loud, agonizing howls. “I’ll sue you, asshole.”

“Get off my property!” Dave shook his fist. “All of you.”

The guard opened the door and shoved Dave inside. His lawyer, Phil, stood in the foyer.

Someone pounded on the door and shouted. “Where was your girlfriend when your wife got hit?”

Dave turned toward the door, but Phil and the guard held him back.

“Things will only get worse,” Phil said. “Stay in control. Everything you say or do will be on OgleShare. Price to pay for being an internet star.”

“Why did they have to bring Jocelyn into this?” Dave kicked the bullet-ridden sectional and propped himself on Jocelyn’s piano. Several bullets had punctured it. His cracked wedding picture lay on its side, a hole through Jocelyn’s face. He swept all the rest of the broken pictures and trophies off. They clattered to the ground. “That comment on Jocelyn was uncalled for.”

“Does make you wonder, doesn’t it?” Phil said. “Where was Jen when Jocelyn got hit?”

“Shut up!” Dave slammed the chipped keys. A series of broken sounds thundered from the ruined piano. “You and everyone else. Blame it on Jen. What does she have, a target on her forehead?”

“Fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.” Phil sat at the dining table and opened his briefcase.

The guard cleared his throat. “Mr. Jewell, I’m calling in reinforcements to secure your property.”

“Tell them they’ll be arrested for trespassing.” Dave rubbed his hair. The gauze pad on the side of his temple needed changing, and his hair was stuck to the tape.

“Yes, sir.” The guard opened the door and let himself out.

Dave stepped into the bathroom and went through his first aid kit. Phil followed behind. “You asked me to find out about Rodrigo Custodio.”

“I’m listening.” Dave yanked the soiled gauze, cleaned his wound and applied antibiotic ointment.

Phil flipped through his PDA. “He never left the country. There’s no trace of him getting on a flight from any airport on the West Coast. So, either he lied to Jen or Jen lied to you.”

Dave stared at Phil’s reflection in the mirror. “Then how did he take Abby to the Philippines?”

“Maybe it wasn’t him.”

“Here, tape this for me?” Dave pressed a pad on his temple. “So we’re back to square one.”

“Yep. He died in an accident in his scrapyard this summer, crushed in the metal compactor.”

“Ugh… that must have been awful.” Dave scratched his unshaven chin.

Phil pressed the first aid tape over the pad. “They didn’t find him until someone noticed the key in the switch a couple days later.”

Dave cringed. He must have been a bloody pulp. What was that message on Jen’s cell?
I saw you at the chop shop.
Jen couldn’t have been involved, could she?

“Could he have kidnapped Abby and given her to someone else?” he asked.

Phil nodded slowly. “Maybe. He was quite a loner, hung around with a bunch of losers. He left behind his mother, a sister, and a niece. What’s strange is the amount of money he had. His niece has over three hundred thousand in her 529 plan and she’s only six.”

Dave whistled. “That much money?”

“Yep. My guess is Rodrigo’s been blackmailing folks for a long time. After he died, Rey picked up the business.”

“And somebody offed Rey, took his cell phone and is trying to figure out Rey’s gravy train. Jen and I have been getting text messages from Rey’s old cell.”

Phil pointed a bony finger at him. “Just because your car was cleared of Rey’s murder, doesn’t mean Jen is. The police let her out to tail her. They think she’ll lead them to bigger fish. I told you to stay away from her.” He glanced at his PDA. “Heard anything from the kidnappers?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” Dave wasn’t about to let Phil know about the prepaid cell phone he found nor the promise of DNA. Phil would go to the police and spook the kidnappers.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Phil asked.

“Wait, before you go.” Dave rummaged in the cabinet and found the hair trimming set. “How much for giving me a haircut?”

“You’re asking a lawyer to cut your hair? Buzz cut only.”

Dave handed him the trimmer. “Might keep the paparazzi away.”

“Why, where are you going?”