Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series) (20 page)

With my mouth, I told Dalton to stay with Brooklyn. With my eyes, I told him to protect her from Jennings. Something was off with that guy. I stalked to the back door of Wanda’s and pushed the fire exit door open. Morgan was outside with a phone to her ear, pacing. “You should have told us, Dad,” she said. Then, “Okay. I’ll tell everyone to calm down. I promise I’ll tell him. Thank you. Bye.”

She turned to me and blew out a breath. “He’s legit. Archer’s been on Dad’s team for years, even before I met Brooklyn. He sent him here to watch out for us—mostly for me, I guess.”

I nodded. “You don’t recognize him?”

“My father and I aren’t close. We never have been,” she admitted, rubbing her arms like she was cold. “He has a lot of people who work for him.”

“I’m just throwing this out there, but I don’t trust the guy.”

She pinched her bottom lip. “My father does, but I get it. He’s a little eccentric.”

“He’s fucking weird.”

She nodded. “Let’s go check on her.”

“I’m going to check into this,” I promised.

Morgan tried to smile. “I certainly hope so.”

I held the door open for her and waited as she stepped back inside. “Why’d she pass out? She doesn’t seem like the type to swoon over bad news.”

“Oh, she isn’t. But she only ate a salad today and wouldn’t eat anything before the show.”

“Why the hell not?” I could feel my face get hot. Damn woman. She’d better not be starving herself!

Morgan giggled. “It’s not like that. She gets nervous and didn’t want to puke. And she made me promise to take her to Lyra’s for a giant cheeseburger afterward.”

That brought a smile to my face. “Got room for a couple more at your table?”

She snorted. “As long as you mean Dalton and not Archer, that’s fine.”

***

The next morning, Jennings’ background check was on my desk. I’d called in a favor. He was employed by Sinclare and had worked for him for the past eight years. Thirty-seven years old, lived alone, apartment in D.C., recent flights to New York, California, D.C., Chicago, Atlanta and Las Vegas.

What the hell was he doing there?

No siblings. Parents were dead. Owned a Cadillac Escalade, black. No priors. Nothing stood out. Jennings was boring as hell.

Dalton thought I was crazy, but he had my back. He combed through the details after I did. Nothing was there.

I told Willy about the situation and he promised to keep a close eye on “Miss Brooklyn”, as he called her. Morgan’s boyfriend, Shane, was livid. He was searching for a flight back home for both of the girls.

Morgan was cool with it, but Brooklyn refused to leave. “If
he
wants to find me, he will. What’s the point in running anymore?” The statement was true, but it also felt like she was giving up. She was just done. Brooklyn wanted it to end, one way or another. I knew she believed in Pinky and I knew I could protect her if I was able to stay by her side 24/7, but with my job, that would be impossible.

When I left this morning, Brooklyn was hauling a giant canvas outside. “I need to paint,” was all she said in explanation. I started her way to help carry the load, but she stopped me with a sharp sound; her eyes leaving no question about what it meant. She didn’t need help, or rather she didn’t want it. Either way, I stopped and ground my teeth in frustration. Sweet as the saccharine smile she gave me, she called out, “Have a good day, C!”

I turned and walked to my cruiser, slammed the door, and took off toward the station. From my cell, I texted Willy.
Watch her today.

Will do, Boss Man.

“I can hear you moving around, Willy.”

He had watched me all morning, trying to be stealthy about it, but come on. My paintbrush flew across the canvas in streaks that matched the deep, angry red I’d mixed.

“Whatcha paintin’, Miss Brooklyn?”

I sighed. “Red.”

“Red?”

Nodding, I watched his bare feet walk toward me. “Just red. It’s how I feel today.”

“Can I say something?”

“Of course. You’re one of the best friends I have in this world, Willy.”

He smiled. Standing beside me, looking at Red, his eyes darted between it and me. “This is you, not how you’re feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your life is a mess. I could see that you were good at what you do last night—the dancing and singing. But this is what you’d do if you could, right? You’d paint. Throw in what Boss Man told me about that stalker freak following you and running you off from home, and I’d say that
you’re
angry red. You’re mad about
him
, but you’re at a turning point in your life and you seem frustrated.”

Spot on, my friend. Spot on. “Is your name William?”

He smiled. “No. But they call me Willy because of the braid. I’ve had it since I was in my twenties, back when it was brown and not gray, but even back in the day, my friends called me Willy. Said I looked like Willy Nelson.”

I puffed out a laugh. “You sort of do.”

Willy beamed, nodded his head, and stood a bit taller. “I know. He was a good lookin’ man.”

Staring at Red, he tucked his hands behind his back.

“Boss Man—he likes you, ya know.”

I blinked a few times, surprised he was so blunt about that. “He’s still hung up on something or someone, though.”

“That’s his story to tell, but the longer you stay, the happier he gets. He’s been sad for a long time. Heartbreak will do that to a man. But I can see life in him again. You did that.”

Nudging him with my arm, I teased, “And here I thought you were after me, Will.”

He grinned. “Won’t say it didn’t cross my mind in the beginning, but seeing Colt get all frustrated with you, I knew there were real feelings beneath the surface there.”

“Dirty old man.”

“Manther,” he corrected, rocking onto his tiptoes and back to his heel.

“Dirty old manther.”

***

Three canvases later and I was spent. Morgan was inside Photoshopping when I came back inside. And believe me, with Morg, ‘Photoshopping’ was a verb.

She looked up and I saw the worry in her eyes. “Shane just called. He said Riley called and has new information. They’re on their way to the airport now. I hope you don’t mind houseguests.”

Palms flat against the counter, I exhaled loudly. “They don’t need to come here. I can take care of myself.” I turned around, the small of my back hitting the counter’s edge. “I do think you should go stay with your Dad for a few days, though.” Her Dad was a former United States Senator and a proud representative for the great state of Nevada. He was also an asshole. To lure in a known human trafficker, he offered Sin up on a plate to the sick bastard. Of course, in the end, Morgan ran and when she did, she smacked headlong into Shane. Shane fell for her immediately. He protected her, even from her own father. So I understood her reluctance to go anywhere near him. Asking him for help must have been difficult for her, but again, Shane was with her, standing by her side.

She shook her head. “I am not leaving you.”

“What about New York?” Her deadline was looming with the gallery. She would have to deliver the goods.

She swallowed. “I actually want you to come with me and I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes—as long as it’s not for me to come with you. I’m staying here.”

“If Riley stays with you, then maybe you don’t have to go with me this time. But someone is going to be here.
Here
, as in staying in the apartment with you, and it’s
not
going to be Archer. Colt doesn’t trust him and I trust Colt.”

“You trust Colt?”

“Absolutely. That boy has it bad. He’s just scared, Brook.”

Muttering under my breath, I shot back, “That makes two of us.”

“Anyway, the guys will be here this evening. They fly in to Dulles and will rent a car and drive in.”

“Two rentals? The charges have to be crazy at this point.”

She waved me off. “The company sponsors Shane,” she explained. “And about my favor. I was wondering if I could have the canvases you just painted. Please?”

“Why would you want three gigantic canvases?”

Morgan patted the seat beside her so I hefted myself over to her. My muscles were heavy and sore, but the couch cushion absorbed the shock of my derriere hitting it and bounced me up again. She patted my leg. “I want them to be part of the exhibit. The photos are my work but they show you, the subject. So to show everyone that you truly are an amazing painter, why not add them to the exhibit and showcase your work as well?”

“Sure. You can do what you want with them.” I didn’t say that I couldn’t care less, because I couldn’t. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or be negative about her dream just because mine wasn’t working out.

“Are they dry?”

“They should be soon. It’s hot outside and the sun is sort of baking them—which isn’t great for the artwork, but I was just blowing off steam.”

Morgan picked at her fingers, which meant she wanted to ask me something else. “What is it?”

I laid my head on the back of the couch while I waited.

“Do you think Willy could drive me to the nearest UPS store in Colt’s truck? I can’t fit even one of those paintings in my car.”

I smiled and yelled for Willy. He hadn’t been far away all day and sure enough, he was at the front door in a heartbeat. Stepping inside, he ran up the steps. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Morgan needs some man muscle.”

He snickered. “Oh, yeah. You called the right guy.”

Being the amazing person he was, he agreed to help her, but not before making me promise to lock the door behind him, check the other locks, and not open them until he came back or Colt came over. He warned that he was texting him about the change in plans.

“It’s a forty minute drive round trip, Willy. I’m going to be fine.”

“You got Pinky handy?”

I sat up and raised my t-shirt so he could see the hidden holster and Pinky nestled safely inside the soft leather. Technically, it was illegal to conceal the weapon because you needed a permit for that around here, but technically I didn’t give a shit.

When they pulled the door closed behind them, I breathed, locked the deadbolt and started back up the steps.

Colt called. “Are you okay, B?”

“Helicopter Landlord.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of Helicopter Moms? They won’t let their kids more than three feet away from them. They hover. You’re like that with me. You’re my landlord, too. So…Helicopter Landlord.”

He huffed. “Is that all I am to you? Your landlord?”

“I don’t know what to think of you. One minute you’re like my best guy friend, the next you’re about to fuck me against your cruiser. One minute you’re scared, the next you’re confident. It’s maddening.”

“I’ll give you maddening,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Promises. Look, I’m going to go. Willy will be back soon, since they just left and it’s such a short drive, so I’m pretty sure you can go about your daily policing without worrying about ‘lil old me. ‘Kay?”

“Stubborn.”

“Hoverer.”

I disconnected the call first. Hah!