Read Their Summer Heat Online

Authors: Kitty DuCane

Tags: #menage, #wealthy, #BDSM, #murder, #suspense

Their Summer Heat (10 page)

BOOK: Their Summer Heat
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She still couldn’t believe Logan was the New York Highwayman. Even though she hadn’t heard of the New York Shark, she was familiar with Logan’s moniker. He was the biggest Realtor in the state, was known for his ruthless deals, for robbing his competitors blind.

The last picture showed the Prestons and Margo at the restaurant with the caption:
Where is Miss Heat?

Summer took a seat in the back of the class and could have sworn her hair was on fire because everyone kept turning for a peek.

Dr. Stone entered and set his black briefcase on the floor beside his desk. He swept the room with his gaze until it landed on her, and he gave her a soft, pity-filled smile.

“Dr. Stone, I get the feelin’ my classmates are twitchy today. I’d like to address any questions or issues they have before we begin class.”

Dr. Stone pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, that’s not necessary. We all respect your private life.”

“Respect is not what I’m after. I’d rather face this head on instead of havin’ whispers behind my back. But the rule is that you can only ask me questions now. After that, no more questions…ever.”

The good professor hesitated before he finally said, “Okay, Miss Heat. If you insist.”

Collin wasted no time. “Is it true you work a phone-sex line?”

Collin was cute, a brilliant student, a little weird, and was still stuck in the frat-mindset. The only thing on his brain was making a score, but not with her. Years ago, she’d cut him to the bone the first week he’d transferred in, and she hadn’t totally figured him out yet.

“Yes. It pays well, and it’s one of the ways I pay for my schoolin’.”

“Cool,” he replied.

No doubt, his mind was in the gutter.

Molly cleared her throat. “Did you ditch the Preston brothers?”

“Yes.” Summer detected envy in Molly’s tone, probably having to do with Summer-the-nobody scoring with the two most eligible bachelors in New York.

“Are you insane? Why would you do that?”

Molly Bethune came from a wealthy family, and Summer would put her in the same category as Margo. Her grades were so-so, and Summer suspected Molly went through the motions because she was on the hunt for a husband with money, and some psych knowledge could help her speed up the process.

“You know them?” Summer asked.

“Not really. I know
of
them. They are the most eligible bachelors in New York City. I’d kill for the opportunity.”

Summer hoped she hadn’t outwardly winced at that keyword. “I had to work and study, so I had no time for dinner with them. I wasn’t supposed to be auctioned.”

“I noticed you came to school in a limo today, instead of taking the subway like you usually do,” said Collin. “What’s up with that?”

She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat as her trashed apartment played through her brain, frame by pitiful frame. But telling the truth was the only way. “I had a break-in, and my apartment was ransacked. I’m staying with the Prestons, because I have nowhere else to stay.”

Summer didn’t miss the surprise and then the frown on Molly’s face.

“If you didn’t go to dinner with them, how did you end up staying with them?” she asked.

“My cleanin’ job is at Logan Preston’s real estate buildin’, and I was workin’ the night shift, and they—the Preston brothers—came by the office. And when they took me home, I found my apartment trashed, and they offered me a place to stay.” She hoped she’d provided enough info to halt any more questions. Now, if no one checked the timeline, she might be safe from having to explain her experiment.

But now she’d had time to think about it, she should have stayed at the women’s shelter instead of with the Prestons. Of course, the brothers would balk at that idea. She didn’t have the money, but with all this craziness, it would have waylaid the suspicions.

“Any more questions?” asked the professor.

She released her held breath when no one spoke up, and Dr. Stone started the session in cognitive psychology. She knew more questions lurked in her classmates’ minds, but time was up.

The rest of the class passed in an almost normal manner, but she found it difficult to focus on the subject of neurocognition. She stifled a yawn, exhausted, thanks to being up half the night—and boy what a night it was. Her womb zinged just thinking about being with both hot, hard bodies.

When the professor dismissed the class, she stood, needing to escape before someone cornered her with a question or two and she had to whip out her it’s-to-late card.

“Miss Heat,” said Dr. Stone. “May I have a word with you?”

“Certainly.” She liked Dr. Stone. He was intelligent, kept the classes interesting. She waited until the room cleared before stepping up to his desk.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, sir. I’m fine.”

“If you need a place to stay, Mrs. Stone and I have a spare bedroom our daughter uses when she comes home, and Mrs. Stone would love to have someone else to care for.”

He sheepishly grinned when he referred to his wife. The professor was in his sixties, and Summer could imagine his wife as an older woman who had stayed at home all her life and took care of the kids, the house, and Dr. Stone.

But staying at her professor’s house would be weirder than staying at the Prestons. “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I hope to get back in my apartment by Friday.” She didn’t know that would happen, for sure, but she would call one of the detectives and impress upon them how important it was. Of course, she had no idea how she could possibly sleep in her bedroom again, even after painting over the crazed scrawl.

At twelve-thirty, the limo dropped her off at the deli. When she pulled out her waitressing outfit to change, Mr. Benny informed her that Mr. Max Preston had phoned early that morning and had told him about her resignation, so Mr. Benny had called in the next new-hire on the list. Summer’s nails bit into her palms. The experiment didn’t involve them taking over her life. She was self-sufficient and wouldn’t tolerate any interference. After she thanked Mr. Benny, he assured her he’d hire her back if he had an opening.

Summer stepped out in the street, planted her back against the wall, and aimed her face at the sun. The rays were warm, and she closed her eyes and let the anger ease from her body.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tonight, she’d have a come-to-Jesus meeting with the Preston boys.

Instead of calling the limo, she decided to walk a few blocks to decompress and then call a cab. The lunch crowd swarmed the sidewalk, and she thought about slapping herself in the forehead for not grabbing a bite at the deli. But that might have been awkward. Hell, she didn’t know. She’d learned something about herself today. She liked her life in order, didn’t do chaos at all.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

She abruptly stopped and listened. “Oh, holy hell, that’s me.” She laughed as she dug her cell out of her purse. Max’s face was on the screen. “Hello.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Em…walkin’?”

“I know that. Why aren’t you in the limo?”

“I…wait a minute. How do you know I’m not in the damn limo?”

The silence on the line caused her to stop walking and scan the get-out-of-my-way-I-need-some-chow horde for someone who didn’t fit in. “Did you set a bird dog on me?”

“Yes. You don’t know what’s going on, and you apparently are not capable of making decisions where your safety is concerned.”

She turned sideways to squeeze between the foot traffic. “Max Preston, I am not a child. You are not my daddy or my keeper. If you think—”

“I am your lover, and I care about you.”

Lover? That one word bothered her and made even less sense in her mind. “No, you’re a control freak. You’re used to havin’ your way, havin’ the whole world bow down to you. Well, I need my space. And another thing. I do not appreciate you callin’ Mr. Benny and arrangin’ it so I don’t have to work my notice.”

“We told you we plan on keeping you occupied at night.”

“I don’t care. You make me want to wring your neck.” He couldn’t derail her with sexual innuendos. “I want to control my life. And I’m tired of talkin’ to you. I’ll see you tonight.” She ended the call and stuffed the stupid phone back inside her purse.

The realization that there was nothing left of
her
slammed into her head-on. The clothes on her back were borrowed, her phone, her shoes, her underwear, everything except her thrift-store purse. Her jobs weren’t even hers to command.

Since she didn’t know who tracked her, she’d try some evasion techniques. Summer waited until a crowd came by, and then she wiggled into the middle, wishing she was shorter than her five ten and that her red hair wasn’t like a flowing neon billboard. The pack shrank and grew as if it had a life of its own, and she let her gaze casually search for a…clue as to who was on her tail.

Her belly rested in her throat for some reason, probably because she wasn’t adept at this cloak-and-dagger shit.
Think, Summer, think.
She could catch a cab—that would be hard to follow—or she could… On impulse, she pulled her hood over her head and veered right.

The little bell over the door dinged, and the tinkling of feng shui music greeted her.

“Can I help you?” asked the pretty receptionist.

“Yes, please. Laser hair removal. Bikini area.” Summer had no idea what compulsion made her shove herself into a salon and ask for her pubic hair to be removed when she planned on killing Logan and Max the next time she saw them. Now, even her intentions weren’t her own, as she suddenly found herself trying to please two men she barely knew. And though they had told her they’d put money in her account, she shouldn’t spend it, shouldn’t splurge on such…such…craziness.

“I’m sorry, but sometimes, depending on the tint of the hair, laser treatment doesn’t work on red hair. Yours is so light, I doubt it will take.”

“I see.” But not really.
Why me?

“But a Brazilian wax would work.”

“Em… Sounds painful.”
And embarrassing.

“No, not really. And you’re in luck. We have an opening.”

Summer knew she was impulsive, but this took the cake. “Okay.”

“Right this way.”

 

Three hours later, Summer emerged from the salon.

And the procedure
was
painful.

Not screaming painful but like an uncomfortable bite.

But it was done, and she was kinda glad. Her panties brushed against her clit like a caress without the natural barrier there to hold the fabric away from her skin.

Pushing the thought of her body parts aside, she fell in step with the four-o’clockers headed for the subway, needing to get to Max’s, fuss them out, lay down new ground rules, and take a nap. She was jostled, shoved forward, bumped into the woman in front of her.

“Sorry.”

Something tugged against her upper left arm. Summer glanced down, saw the bright red blooming on her bicep. She stopped walking, was clipped from behind by a tall man who said, “Hey, watch it, lady.”

She clamped her hand on her wound, spun in a circle, looking at every face, searching for someone she hoped she didn’t find. The masses sidestepped her, glared at her.

One man stopped and glanced at her arm. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “No.” She removed her hand, could discern the wound was deep. “I need an EMT.”

He guided her out of the foot traffic and next to the building, pulled his cell, and made the call. Summer couldn’t pull her gaze away from the growing red stain on her shirt. Tremors rocked her body. She fought hard not to puke on the man’s polished shoes. He shoved the phone in his pocket and reached for her. She flinched.

“Sorry. I’m a medic. I need to see your arm, Miss Heat.”

She kept her arm to herself. “How…how do you know my name?”

“I’m Dan Wallace. Max Preston hired me to follow you. Let me see your arm, and then I’ll call Mr. Preston.”

Okay.
The man looked like a bulldog. He was big, his face chiseled, not really attractive because of his crooked nose and a deep scar over his eye. And if he was supposed to scare people, she was petrified.

Summer didn’t protest when he held her limb in his hand and gingerly pulled back the tattered edge of material over the wound, and then gently touched her skin. Something white showed at the bottom of the hole in her arm.

“Mr. Wallace, is that bone?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Heat.”

“There’s so much blood.”

“Nothing to worry about.”

On a calm, normal day, she knew that, but she hadn’t had one of those since Thursday. Sirens echoed between the buildings, distorting the direction of the sound. He placed his thumb on her arm above the wound and applied a biting pressure to inhibit the blood flow.

Black dots swam in her eyes, and her vision narrowed. “I think I need to sit.” She placed her hand on the wall, bent her knees.

“No, you don’t. Your ride is here.”

He scooped her up and moved toward the street, and gawkers parted like the Red Sea. The ambulance stopped at the curb as Wallace maneuvered to the back. The door opened and surprise registered on the EMT’s face. He quickly opened the other side, and Wallace hopped in with her in her arms, as if she weighed nothing, and laid her on the gurney.

“She has a lacerated bicep. Somehow, he missed the crucial stuff like arteries.”

Wallace pulled his cell. She wanted to ask him not to call Max because she didn’t want to deal with Max being right. If she hadn’t ditched her bird dog…
Wait a second.

“Did I give you the slip?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes, you did.”

“And how did you find me?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Preston.”

He didn’t even flinch, and she was sure he wouldn’t tell her. “Oh, I will.”

Mr. Wallace dialed a number and dread filled her soul. “Mr. Preston, this is Dan Wallace. Miss Heat is okay, but she has been injured, and we’re on our way to Presbyterian.”

Summer could hear a tiny voice on the other end.

“Yes, sir. I’ll see you when you get there.”

He pressed a button on his phone and shoved it in his coat pocket. “Tell me what happened.”

BOOK: Their Summer Heat
13.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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