Every Breath You Take (13 page)

Tiffany gazed at her in admiration.

“All kidding aside, Lexie. You were wonderful. Impressive. Brady’s right. He said all the powerful men in this town are scared spitless of you. He can add that their wives are as well. And not because you could eat their husbands for a mid-morning snack. No, it’s because you aren’t afraid to call them on their shit. The men
and
the women.

“And Lexie, thank you for defending Brady. I know Brady is your friend and Jake’s. And you know he adores you.” Tiffany hesitated. “I won’t lie to you, Lexie. It’s hard hearing those women talk about the man I love as though he is the biggest tom-cat in town. But… then… he was or maybe still—”

Lexie grabbed Tiffany by the shoulder and pulled her to a hard stop.

“Tiffany Anderson don’t you dare! Yes, Brady is my friend and I will defend him to the death. But, Tiffany, that guy is so much in love with you, I’m surprised he can walk straight.”

Tiffany shook her head.

“I know that, Lexie. But… well, let me put it this way. I have a hard time trusting men. And I’m not stupid. Of course I know Brady’s reputation. What he’s like—”

Lexie interrupted. “You mean what he
was
like before he fell in love with you. Tiffany, don’t let those jealous women shake your faith. You know damn well that Jake was as big a hound dog as Brady. They both were incorrigible. And if you think you have a hard time trusting men, you aren’t anything like I’ve been—until I met Jake. Even so it has taken me months to know, truly know, that I can trust him and trust myself. Quite honestly, after some of the things in my past and especially after Anthony was killed, I didn’t know if I could ever trust a man
or
begin to love one. Jake changed all of that for me. Brady can do that for you, Tiffany if you’ll let him.”

Tiffany grimaced. “That’s the question, Lexie. I watched my father deal with the fact that my mother abandoned us when I was a baby by hooking up with a new woman every six months. If you think Jake and Brady were hound dogs, you need to meet my handsome father. At fifty six, he still has a trail of women from Shanghai to Seattle chasing after him. When I was seventeen, I laid down the law. I insisted that he stop introducing me to the ‘flavor of the month.’ I got tired of listening to the women’s pitiful stories after he dumped them. As if his kid could make him straighten up. But I would be telling a lie if I said it didn’t affect my opinion of men. And then I go and fall in love with a guy who is even more outrageously handsome than my father.”

She shook her head. “Of course, it didn’t help that two-thirds of the men I worked with hit on me—whether they were married or not.”

“I’m sorry, Tiffany. Especially, if that ugly past prevents you from being with Brady. As I said, I don’t have your experience with men, but I do know my friend, Brady Schaefer. He would slaughter anyone who tried to hurt you or me. And Tiffany, I can tell you, Brady is so much in love with you it would kill him if he lost you.”

After the cab dropped them off, they walked into the Center, arm in arm, swaying somewhat. Tiffany winked at Lexie. “Do you think the guys will be able to tell that we drunk those two society chicks under the table.”

Lexie’s giggle stuck in her throat when she looked up and saw Master Wan standing in the doorway.

“What… what’s wrong?”

Master Wan’s face was pale, strained. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. At the expression in his haunted eyes, Lexie’s stomach took a roller coaster ride forty feet to the bottom of a cliff and stayed there. She clutched Tiffany’s arm for support. Clinging to her friend and barely able to speak she squeaked out a whisper.

“Jake…? Please… please, God. Please, Master Wan.”

Her voice shook. “Please tell me… tell me it’s not… Jake?”

Chapter 12

Before Master Wan could answer, the roar of a motorcycle screamed through the air. Grabbing hold of Tiffany’s arm, Lexie whirled to see Jake’s Electra Glide storm across the circular driveway and come to a screeching halt twenty feet from the door. Jake barely stopped the powerful machine before leaping off the back of the bike. He strode toward her, six feet four inches of towering man. With his helmet strapped on his head and his eyes blazing behind the shield, he looked like the Dark Knight advancing on her.

In the seconds that followed, Brady’s silver Z shot across the cobblestone patio and came to a thundering stop inches behind Jake’s bike. Both doors flung open and Brady bounded out of the still rumbling automobile while Peter leapt from the passenger side. All three men were at the door before Lexie could take a breath. The smell of burning tires and the shuddering sounds of powerful vehicles flooded the entryway to the Center.

Jake grabbed Lexie and dragged her up against him. The smell of leather and exhaust filled her nostrils. In the blur she heard his voice saying her name over and over. He was enormous. His leather jacket and helmet made her huge lover overpowering, frightening. Lexie would have been terrified if she didn’t hear him, his voice shaking with fear, calling out to her.

“Lexie! Oh God, Lexie. Thank God you’re safe, baby.”

Jake was holding her so tightly, it was hard to breathe. She clung to him to steady herself but she couldn’t have fallen if she tried. Behind her she heard Brady’s shaky voice echoing Jake’s frightened entreaties. Brady had grabbed Tiffany and was holding her in his arms, her red hair crushed against his chest. The expression on his face sapped Lexie’s breath. Both men were quaking, like huge sturdy pine trees hit by a violent windstorm. Behind them, Peter looked as traumatized as Brady and Jake.

Jake hauled Lexie up in his arms. Pressing her against his chest he strode through the doorway, his heavy boots crashing against the tile floor. Brady wrapped Tiffany in his arms and trailed scant inches behind them. Peter and Master Wan brought up the rear, following them into the conference room.

The next minutes were a blur. Still tipsy from their Talisker-fueled meeting with Cynthia Roberts and Margaret Spellman, Lexie struggled to make sense of the scene and the storm clouds raging on Jake’s grim face. It didn’t help that his expression was as frightened as it was enraged.

Jake eased her to the floor. Holding her against him with one strong arm, he yanked off his helmet and slammed it to the table.

“Jake, what… what happened? What’s going on?”

Lexie stared up at him searching for clues to his rage. For a second she thought it might be that she and Tiffany were late or even that they had been drinking. But the fear buried in Master Wan’s eyes and the heavy concern marring Peter’s usually smooth expression signaled that something was wrong, very wrong.

Assuming a relatively normal tone, Master Wan turned to the pale servants hovering in the doorway.

“Mai-Sun. Please go to my quarters. Stay with Madam Juen until I get there. Let her know that Jai Li and Major Anderson are safe. Tell her they are not hurt. Please, go now.”

Waving the young women toward the family quarters, Master Wan closed the door to the conference room and leaned against it. For a split second he looked close to his seventy plus years. The strain on her beloved sensei’s face galvanized Lexie. Unable to free herself from Jake’s firm grip, she managed to unwind enough to look up and meet his hard gaze.

“Jake,
please
. Tell me. Tell us. What is happening? What happened?”

His deep breath echoed across the room. Still visibly shaken, Jake nodded. His voice was rough, gravelly.

“I’m sorry to frighten you, Lexie. We… we had a terrible scare.”

He broadened his gaze to take in the others. Jake’s grim expression was matched by the tension on the other men’s faces. Tiffany looked as shaken as Lexie felt.

Jake cleared his throat.

“Please, everyone. Sit down.” He waved at the sofa and arm chairs circling the low coffee table.

Looking over to Peter, he motioned toward Master Wan’s liquor cabinet. Without speaking, Peter went to the cabinet and took out a bottle and glasses.

Jake half-carried Lexie over to one of the overstuffed armchairs. Brady towed Tiffany to the chair across from them and pulled Tiffany onto his lap. Jake did the same, nestling Lexie into the hollow under his arm. Through Jake’s jacket Lexie could feel the hard thumping of her lover’s heart against his chest. The pounding echoed that of her own.

Jake huffed out a deep sigh. In a voice that bordered on normal, he began to explain.

“Lexie and Tiffany, I’m sorry that I, we, frightened you. I will tell you in a minute what happened. Just give us a chance to know that you are safe, not hurt. We… it’s been a hard hour or so, wouldn’t you say, men?”

Brady and Peter groaned at his dry understatement. Brady’s voice was tight, hoarse.

“Yeah, man. I guess you could say that. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m afraid to unzip my jacket just in case the fuckin’ thing dropped out somewhere in the middle of the road.”

Jake guffawed. “Know what you mean, man. Christ, this last hour rivals anything we did in the Congo.”

“Hell yeah,” Brady agreed. “And I thought twenty jeeploads of Interahamwe chasing up our asses could give me a heart attack. Fuck. That wasn’t even close to what my poor ticker endured tonight.”

Peter gave an affirming grunt as he put the bottle and glasses on the table. He tipped the bottle against the rim of the first glass. “I presume I don’t have to ask if all of us want some of this stabilizing nectar?”

After Peter filled the glasses, he returned to the cabinet and brought out another bottle. Placing it in the middle of the table, he murmured, “I don’t think there is any question but that we will need this as well.”

Still holding Lexie tightly in one arm, Jake raised his glass. His voice dropped to a dangerous low.

“Here’s to my pledge. Those fuckers are as good as dead. They think they are warning us? So help me God, if they are not cowering in some rat hole, sweating like whores in church, they are stupider than I thought. Gentlemen, the death match is on.”

Brady, Peter and Master Wan all leaned forward and clinked their glasses. The sound of the men taking deep swallows of the amber colored liquid cut through the heavy silence.

Jake shifted in his chair and hugged Lexie. His words rasped in her ear.

“Darlin’, much as I hate to, I need to show you and Tiffany something. Something ugly. Guess this forces me to live up to my insistence that we all are on the same team. Just so you know baby, if I could, Lexie? I would wrap you up in plastic and keep you in a cage. I’d take you out only to feed you and fuck you. I’d do anything I could to protect you from the vermin that are after us. But I can’t. You have a right to know what we’re up against.”

Jake shifted in the arm chair and settled Lexie into the corner. He rose, his boots adding a couple of inches to his looming height. Stripping off his leather jacket, he tossed it on a chair then went over and snagged a legal sized envelope from the corner of the desk. Squeezing in next to Lexie, he tossed the envelope on the coffee table.

Lexie sucked in a breath. She didn’t recognize her voice. It sounded more like a quaking mouse than a fierce warrior woman.

“Who… who is it? Who did they kill? More… girls?”

Brady and Peter echoed Jake’s deep sigh.

“No, honey. No more girls. These pictures aren’t of dead girls—not really.”

Jake opened the envelope and took out a sheaf of eight-by-ten color photographs. He laid them on the table, side by side, a damning montage of violence. Starring in the tableau were Lexie and Tiffany.

Lexie heard Tiffany gasp. Lexie’s chest was too constricted to expel the air captured in her lungs.

The first two photographs depicted a side and back view of Lexie and Tiffany entering the Pickled Parrot. The next images captured the two of them watching Cynthia’s limo pull away from the curb. Their shining eyes and uninhibited laughter sparkled on their faces. Their infectious grins made the photographs that followed all the more horrific. A series of cruel images that might have been considered artistic if they weren’t so terrifying, portrayed crudely photoshopped images of Lexie and Tiffany. In the first couple, large men were stripping the terrified women, tearing their clothes from their bodies. As the brutal panoply played out, a crowd of hooded men, Kkangpae tats vivid on their bare chests, gang-raped Tiffany and Lexie. The final photographs showed the bloodied women lying on the ground their naked tortured bodies grotesquely wrapped in each other’s arms.

Lexie squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry. She opened them to see tears streaming down Tiffany’s face. Brady’s red-rimmed eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Peter met her gaze, unflinching rage burning in his eyes. Lexie couldn’t bear to look at Master Wan. She could feel his pain from across the table.

Jake’s strong fingers stroked the rigid muscles on her shoulders and neck. He murmured comforting nonsense words that she barely heard.

Brady broke the aching silence. The pain in his voice was so harsh it shattered Lexie’s tight resistance. Silent tears flooded her cheeks as she listened to Brady describe his and the other men’s reactions when they saw the pictures.

“We… we thought you were dead. That they had you. We didn’t know where you were. After the restaurant…”

Jake picked up the narrative when sobs caught in Brady’s throat.

“We vaguely knew that you were meeting Cynthia Roberts. I didn’t realize that Margaret Spellman was going to be there as well. At least the fucking bastards let us know which restaurant you were at. I guess they wanted to rub it in our faces that it was really you entering the bar. We learned from Tom Roberts and Craig Spellman that Roberts’s chauffeur had driven their wives home. A little worse for the wear but alive and unhurt.” Jake took a deep audible breath. “I don’t have to tell you what the next hour was like. Somehow Brady, Peter and I made it to the Pickled Parrot without killing ourselves or the hundreds of pedestrians we scattered along the curbs. Dan set up roadblocks to give us room. The poor guy at the Pickled Parrot probably lost ten years off his life when we tore into his bar.”