Mercy's Angels Box Set (37 page)

“Betty Boop, what is this about?” Charlie asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” I replied honestly. “I was still a teenager when she left Claymont and I haven’t seen her since. I would be completely oblivious to her existence if it weren’t for the occasional phone call or letter, and up until recently I thought maybe she had forgotten I existed altogether. It had been almost two years since I last heard from her. But over the last month, I’ve heard from her no less than five times.”

“What did she want?”

“She wanted me to sell the house. I got the impression she needed the money, but I refused to sell.” Charlie took the piece of paper from me and read it over himself, his hand rubbing the rough hair on his chin. It had obviously been a few days since he last shaved.

“I saw her,” I breathed. Charlie’s gaze settled on me. His face betrayed no emotion as he patiently waited for me to continue. “Outside the store this morning. At the time I wasn’t sure, it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen her, and she looked so different. Then after everything that happened today, I completely forgot about it.”

“How can you be sure it was her then?”

“The last time I saw her she was sixteen, she was still a child really. Her hair was slightly darker than mine, long, down to her waist. She had full cheeks and a curvy figure. She was gorgeous. The Emily I saw this morning was different. Her hair was short, like pixie short, and jet black. She was really thin, she looked tired, and was far too pale. Her eyes were the same though, eyes never change. Emily’s eyes are blue like mine, only a little paler. She hated them, but I always found them beautiful, intriguing. When I saw her this morning, I saw those eyes and I thought right away that it had to be Emily, but the woman looked so different in every other way.” 

Charlie began pacing around the room and it made me nervous. He suddenly seemed agitated. “Why would she be back in Claymont? And if she is back here and was right in front of your shop, why didn’t she come in to see you?”

I shook my head, I had no idea. “Bouquets isn’t called Bouquets anymore, its Mercy’s Angels and Bouquets and you can’t see my part of the shop by looking through the glass. Mostly you just notice the chairs and tables for Annie’s coffee shop through the windows. She wouldn’t have even realized I was there, and as for why she is back, I have no idea. She was never fond of Claymont, she hated it. Em wanted the city, the lights and all the excitement that goes with it.” Charlie rubbed a hand through his messy hair. “There were men with her—two men—and they were huge, like, intimidating bouncer huge. They looked like they were forcing her into a car.” My heart started to hammer with panic. “What if she’s in some sort of trouble?” Charlie glanced back down at the letter. I grabbed my cell phone off the counter and scrolled through my contacts until I found the last number she called me from. I dialed it and tapped my fingers on the counter beside me with impatience.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service,” the monotone recording echoed through my ear. I scrolled through to another number and pressed call. Again, I was greeted with the same recording. There was only one other number that Emily called from recently, and somehow I knew I would get the same result. I sighed with disappointment when the same recording picked up. I stared at the phone, willing it to ring, willing it to be Emily on the other end.

“Can I keep this? I want to show Dillon and Braiden.” Charlie held the note in front of me.

“What on earth for?” I startled, his question snapped my attention from my phone and the empty, useless recording.

“Rebecca, you were attacked less than a month ago, and there is no suspect. Then suddenly your sister, who is hard up for cash, shows up in town with some questionable looking people?”

I just stared at him, taking in what he was saying. “You think she had something to do with my attack?” I finally stammered. That he was even suggesting it pissed me off. My sister would never do anything to hurt me. We may not have seen each other in nearly ten years, but we were blood, we grew up together. My sister would never hurt me.

“Maybe your attack had nothing to do with your sister, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Dillon and Braiden poke around and make sure she’s okay. I’m sure you would feel better knowing she is alright.” Okay, that made sense. I nodded as I looked around my home, which now felt so cold and empty.

“I don’t want to stay here,” I quietly confessed. Charlie took the short few steps to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into the safety of his chest. 

“You don’t have to, Betty Boop. We’ll grab anything you need and you can come stay with me. We’ll get the rest of your things from Jax and Ella’s tomorrow. On the way to my place, we can stop by Dillon’s office and show him the letter.”

My head throbbed, my few carefree moments of vodka induced happiness had slipped away, and now, all I wanted was a hot shower and a full night’s sleep. The shower wouldn’t be a problem, the sleep definitely would be. 

* * *

“This is the most recent photo you have of her?” Dillon Montgomery asked.

I sensed he knew what my answer would be, but perhaps he was hoping, by some miracle, I could produce a more recent one. It was one of Emily and me on Christmas morning, eight years ago. Emily looked so young, her hair in a long braid, a carefree grin on her lips. I stood beside her, two fingers peeking above her head from behind in a childish taunt. We looked so similar, apart from me being a good few inches taller and slightly more womanly. I began to develop my curves early, but Emily at sixteen, although she had a healthy curvy figure, was still flat chested, and her cheeks still held their child-like roundness. It was our last Christmas together. Two months later, Emily left Claymont, only a note explaining her need to see the world. I shook off the sorrow that threatened to consume me and nodded.

The office of Montgomery Securities was unusually comfortable. It was big and spacious, with high tech looking computers, combined with massive computer screens. A big comfy leather couch sat at the front of the room in front of a wide coffee table and a large clutter-free counter. There were framed photos on the walls, one of Dillon in his army fatigues, surrounded by a group of laughing children. The others were of foreign cities and landscapes; they were beautiful, exotic, and serene. I wondered if perhaps Dillon or Braiden had taken them. Off the reception area was a short corridor with three doorways. I knew one was Dillon’s office and the other Braiden’s. My mind raced with the idea that the third doorway led to some secret underground warehouse full of James Bond like weaponry and spy equipment. Okay, I really needed to stop watching so many movies. We were spread out around the reception area—Dillon was leaning against the neat counter; Braiden was kicked back in a chair, his big boots resting on the coffee table in front of us; and Charlie and I were sitting on the leather couch.

“We could dig around, look for police reports, driver’s licenses, and arrest records. Might turn up a more recent photo there?” suggested Braiden.

That was the most I have ever heard Braiden speak. Six months ago, he bought a house in one of the brand new luxury estates on my side of town, and since Dillon was living with Braiden for now, it wasn’t uncommon for him to tag along with Dillon to grab an occasional dinner or drink. He had always been quiet and a little reclusive, speaking only a few words and smiling less. It wasn’t like he went around scowling in that dark and dangerous way you would expect, but instead he seemed to quietly consider everything that was going on around him. Ella told me Braiden had been an officer for NYPD’s Emergency Service Unit before mysteriously leaving to do his own thing as a PI. When Dillon ditched the military to open his own security firm, Braiden had jumped straight in with him. Together they not only ran a successful and rapidly growing business, but were lusted after by every single woman in Claymont. Dillon, with his tall and athletic body, held himself with a confidence that oozed sex appeal. His hair was in a military buzz cut, and his eyes were a curious shade of green that were fanned with lashes that I was envious of! Yes, the Montgomery cousins were impressive.

“Is it possible that she goes under a different name now?” Dillon asked.

“I don’t know. She’s always just been Em, and I’ve always been B.” I sighed, rubbing my throbbing head. The vodka shots were not my friends right now.

“Has she ever given any indication she was in some sort of trouble?” came Braiden’s next question.

“No, I mean, other than seeming a little desperate for cash recently, no. I just assumed she was behind on her rent or something.”

“Is she married? Boyfriend?” it was Dillon’s turn to ask. I was beginning to feel like I was a spectator in a Montgomery tennis match.

“Not married, at least not that I know of. I’m sure she would have told me something like that. Boyfriend? I have no idea.” I really didn’t feel like I was giving them much to go on, and for the first time, I actually realized how little I really knew about my sister, my own flesh and blood. It was depressing.

“So, what we have is Emily Grace Donovan, twenty-five, short dark hair, light blue eyes, approximately five feet, two inches, slim build, in the company of two men driving a fancy black sedan.” Dillon glanced at me for confirmation.

“Two fucking big men,” I murmured. He nodded and I assumed at this point he would mock the lack of information—I felt like I was contributing so little. She was my little sister for Christ’s sake, I should know more about her. I should have cared enough to at least look for her, check in on her. I had just let her walk away from me, from Claymont when she was nothing more than a wild teenage girl. Guilt rested heavy on my shoulders.

“Okay, that’s a start. Do you have the last cell phone number she called from?”

“Yes, but I’ve already tried all three of them and they’ve been disconnected.” Braiden grinned and I almost slipped off the couch. His smile was breathtaking—not too cocky, not too boyish—it was sexy, confident masculinity at its best. As handsome as he was though, as jaw dropping as that smile had been, he had nothing on Charlie. It was his cheeky arrogant grin that really melted my panties.

“That doesn’t surprise me, but you would be shocked at the sort of trail a phone number can leave behind,” Braiden said.

I left the last three numbers I had in my phone for Emily and finally found myself climbing back into Charlie’s truck. He engaged in a quick private conversation with Dillon and Braiden in front of the office before joining me. In a despondent haze of aching head, tired limbs and worry, I leaned my head against the window of Charlie’s truck and fell asleep instantly.

Rebecca was out before my truck left the parking lot. It had been a big day for her, so I wasn’t at all surprised, especially after the way she knocked back those three shots of vodka earlier this afternoon. The curious note from her sister had left an uncomfortable feeling in my gut, and, as I expected, Dillon and Braiden had the same opinion. It was too big of a coincidence that Emily was sniffing around for money only weeks prior to Rebecca’s attack. For the first time since her attack, I was beginning to think Luke Hollywell may in fact be innocent of the assault. Of being a fuckwit, not so much. For Rebecca’s sake, I hoped to God her sister had nothing to do with it. But my gut told me she did.  Rebecca’s house on its own wasn’t worth much, but the land it sat on was worth quite a lot, and she said that Emily seemed desperate for cash. It wasn’t hard to reach a sinister conclusion.

Rebecca woke as I tried to carefully unbuckle her seatbelt, then she mumbled and cussed like a trooper as I steered her up the stairs, to my apartment which sat over Carter Constructions’ office. Rebecca didn’t like having her sleep interrupted. I wasn’t even sure if her eyes opened as I led her through the small studio apartment. I pulled the sheets back and she sank into my bed, falling quickly back into a deep and restful sleep. I tucked her in and then grabbed her bag from the truck before taking advantage of the quiet moment to shower. Under the burning hot water, it was difficult not to let my thoughts stray to the beautiful woman who was laying in my bed. In fact, she was the first woman to lay in it. I decided a long time ago that it was easier to remove myself from a woman’s home than it was to remove a woman from mine. For the first time in my adult life, I wanted this particular woman in my home. I wanted her clothes strewn about my bedroom floor. I wanted her vanilla scented shampoo in my shower. I swore I would never settle for the love of one woman, but Rebecca had opened my eyes to the warming notion. Rebecca and Rebecca only, forever? Hell yeah! As my thoughts began to stray to the erotic adventures I might play with this beautiful woman one day, I had to turn the hot water down and to douse my libido, yet again, with ice cold water. 

In the kitchen, I turned the TV on to the evening news and set the volume down low, while I threw together some spaghetti bolognaise. I almost missed the soft groans coming from the bed on the other side of the apartment. I took the spaghetti off the burner and quietly made my way to Rebecca, who was beginning to toss and turn. She was still having nightmares and my fists clenched at the injustice of it. I fought the urge to climb into bed beside her and pull her into my arms. The mattress sank as I sat down, which caused Rebecca to roll towards me. I ran a hand through her soft blonde hair and whispered words that I thought might help. Her body seemed to lean into my touch. The tautness in her shoulders disappeared and eventually her eyelids fluttered open. I tensed, expecting her to freak out, but she surprised me when a shy smile touched her lips.

“Hey,” I murmured, relishing the fact that she hadn’t pulled away from me.

“Hey,” she whispered back, “I think the smell of food woke me up.”

I wasn’t about to suggest a bad dream may have had something to do with it. She seemed so languidly content right now, I didn’t want to spoil the moment. She was obviously hungry, so I would feed her. I hoped she liked spaghetti. Crap, what if she was a vegetarian? The thought made me realize just how little I knew about Rebecca, the woman I wanted forever with.

“What’s that look for?” she asked, obviously noticing my inner monologue playing out on my face.

“What’s your favorite food?” I found myself asking her.

“I have a soft spot of chili, how about you?”

“Italian, big time, like hard-on style big time.” She laughed and the sound almost created one aforementioned hard-on.

“You get a hard-on for food?”

I shrugged. “Depends on whose cooking it and if it’s any good. Take Mary’s chocolate chip muffins for example, hard-on worthy and not because of Mary, but because they taste that damn good!”

Rebecca scrunched up her nose. “Okay, well, that’s kind of weird, but luckily for you I can deal with weird.”

I was reluctant to pull my hand from her hair, but when an awkward silence fell upon us, I forced myself to move. “Why don’t you hop up and have something to eat, then you can take a shower and climb back into bed. We’re having movie night.” Rebecca slipped out from under the covers and followed me across to the kitchen.

“What movies are playing?”

I signaled to the wall of DVDs behind us. “Take your pick.” Her mouth dropped open with astonishment. Yeah, I had a lot of movies. Not that I found myself watching them often, but I had somehow garnered a little bit of an addiction for buying them, especially the old school stuff like Cool Hand Luke and Rebel Without a Cause. I had accumulated over five hundred now. Rebecca strolled across the room to the massive shelving unit and began searching. I made two plates of spaghetti and by the time I sat at the small table, Rebecca made her choice and joined me. My eyebrows rose with surprise as she placed two DVDs down in front of me, Clerks and Clerks II.

“What?” she asked.

“Just didn’t take you for a Clerks kinda girl.” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You know how every girl's parents put a pussy troll in them when the girls are young, to keep them from having premarital sex?” she said with a smile. The Clerks II quote made me laugh in disbelief.

“Myra’s is named Pillow Pants. And so even though she totally wants to have sex with me, Myra says if I put my thing in her, Pillow Pants will bite it off.” I practically knew every word in both of these movies—Jax and I have watched them like a thousand fucking times. I laughed loudly. “Do you have any idea how hot it is that you not only like that movie, but you can quote it?” She shrugged as she began to eat.

“What can I say, I have lived a repressed life thus far and quoting movies is a talent.”

“Not your only talent,” I murmured, recalling the night we spent together a year ago. Rebecca blushed and the color in her cheeks was fucking cute! “So, tell me about your family, about Emily,” I suggested, moving the conversation along to perhaps an equally dangerous topic.

“Not much to tell. My mom and dad passed away in a car accident when I was nine, Emily was six. Our grandma took us in. Emily was the reckless one, the spontaneous one, even more so after our parents’ death.” That surprised me, after all, Rebecca has always seemed pretty damn spontaneous to me. She chuckled. “I know—the way I dress, my attitude—people assume I live life on the edge. I don’t.” She gave me a pointed glance. “I like things orderly. I like to prepare, know what I’m getting into. Emily didn’t stop, it’s like she had one speed: full throttle.” Rebecca shook her head, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. “Claymont was too slow for a spark of life like Em. She left a few months after our grandma passed away, and it’s been just me since then.”

“No extended family?” I wondered out loud. She shook her head.

“What about you? Ella tells me your family is,” she seemed to be struggling to find the right word, “unusual?”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter. I’m sure Ella had an entirely different word for my family. I tagged along with Ella and Jax to the Claymont summer fair the previous year and Ella had had the misfortune of meeting my crazy-ass, right-wing mother.

“That’s one word for them. Fanatical, eccentric, bigoted, domineering are probably more accurate.” My temper threatened to spill at just the thought of my ultra-conservative family. One look at Rebecca’s solemn gaze grounded me though. I sighed and rubbed a hand over my head which always throbbed in protest at the thought of my parents. “I was an only child and my folks are rather fanatical when it comes to religion. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with people having faith in something. What are one person’s beliefs might not be another’s, and that is fine with me, to each their own and all that hoo-haa. But my family takes their beliefs and interpretations of the Bible a step further than most. Fuck, they take it a hundred damned steps further. They forbid the most basic of human wants and desires: music, television, brand name fucking clothing. Their way of demonstrating their faith is extreme. As far as I’m concerned, they pushed too hard, you know?” I peeked up at Rebecca. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see in her face, but the gentle understanding in her eyes drained the fight out of me. Any anger that had built under the thoughts of my family disappeared. “I believe if you can’t simply have a pure, strong, yet simple faith, if you have to force it or bend it, then maybe you don’t have it in the first place. Inventing your own interpretation of the bible, or your own ideas of what God wants for us or doesn’t want, makes you fanatical. They pushed it on me, tried to force me to accept their manifestation of what they thought was right and wrong. Hell, they even handpicked a girl that they believed was worthy of marriage when I was fourteen for Christ’s sake.” I laughed bitterly.

“The girl you scared away by cutting the cheese?” My smile was now genuine. Rebecca had been listening the night of her attack as I rambled on about everything and nothing on the other side of her bathroom door. 

“The one and only.” Our conversation came to a lull.

“So, I have no family and you have a crazy one,” Rebecca noted.

“You have Emily,” I reminded her. Her eyes became distant and anxious.

“I hope I do,” she murmured.

We finished the meal in companionable silence, and I quickly cleaned up, while Rebecca moved quietly around the apartment, taking in photos and mementos from the few vacations I have taken over the years. With the lights off, we set up in front of my large screen TV and put the first movie on. When we both started quoting lines, we laughed loudly at our mutual talent. I was comfortable with Rebecca at my side and even manned-up enough to pull her close, my arm resting comfortably over her shoulders. She smelled too damn good. She felt too damn good—a perfect warm fit next to me as she nuzzled into my body. I didn’t want to move, I could have lain here with her in my arms all night, but I was worried if she woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, and in the arms of a man, she might get terrified. Once I felt her breathing deepen and her body relax, I carefully moved her to my bed. Again a primal roar of satisfaction reared its macho head. Having Rebecca in my bed, in my home was nothing short of a sweet caress to my soul. I fought the need to climb into bed with her and took the couch, ignoring the throbbing want in my shorts. The thought of functioning without Rebecca in my life was impossible. She made me want more. A home, a family. Hell, kids! I liked kids. I’ve looked after Annie’s boy, Eli, a few of times, and I liked goofing off with him. I liked taking him to the park and tossing the ball around. The thought of doing something like that with my own son or daughter made my head spin and heart hammer with furious longing. However much I liked kids, I never once thought I would be a father, my own childhood far too dismal to imagine me at the helm of my own family. Now I wanted it all. If ever a time came when Rebecca didn’t want me in her life, it would break my fucking heart, and that scared the shit out of me.