Their Summer Heat (15 page)

“Out where?” His voice was gravelly, laced with anger.

“You’ll just have to keep up to find out.” She ended the call. Actually, she had no earthly idea why she’d told him that. The idea had darted into her head like a runaway locomotive and then tumbled out of her mouth.

As her mind raced with the replay of the conversation, Agent Benson spun away, rapidly talking into his phone. Max grabbed his hair, and Logan wiped his hands down his face. Her experiments were suffering, too, which was sweet, but she wasn’t worth it, not worth people dying because of her.

Logan cupped her face. “Sweetheart, you’re safer here than anywhere else.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” yelled Max. He paced, his hair sticking up in all directions.

“I’m tryin’ to keep the next woman alive.”

“And if there’re two of these bastards?” asked Max.

“Or more,” added Logan.

“Then…then it won’t work.”

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” asked Logan.

She opened her mouth.

“And don’t lie,” added Max.

“I’m thinkin’ we can’t catch him if I’m holed up here.”

“Fuck, no,” said Max. He jabbed his finger at her. “You will not be bait.”

Summer inhaled deeply and carefully selected her words. “Mr. Preston, the last time I checked, this was a fuckin’ free country, and I can do whatever the hell I want. I understand completely if you wish to avoid being seen with me, because you’re at risk, too. But I’m puttin’ myself out there tonight, with or without you.”

When Benson came back, she said, “Sir, I’m goin’ out on the town tonight, and I’d like protection if you can arrange it.”

His dark brow arched. “Miss Heat, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Really, Mr. Benson? Havin’ someone volunteer as bait sounds like the FBI’s dream come true.”

“Stop it, Summer,” Max ground out.

“With or without you, Max. With or without.”

The three men exchanged glances, and Max reluctantly nodded, his lips a thin line.

“So, where are we goin’ tonight,” she asked.

“I know a private diner where we can eat,” said Logan.

“Then dancin’?”

“Fuck, no,” said Logan.

“Listen, I have to prove I’m not afraid of him.”
Which is bullshit
. “He has to see me enjoyin’ myself.”

“The Wounded Warrior gala is tonight,” offered Max.

“I still don’t like this,” said Logan.

“It will be fun; you’ll see.”

Max rolled his eyes but turned to the agent. “Did you trace the number?”

“We didn’t catch him. He’s bouncing all over the surrounding cell towers, and his number is 666-666-6666, which is not a valid number.

“The number of the beast?” asked Summer. “He thinks he’s the beast in Revelations?” Religion had never crossed her mind. Surely it was an attempt to force another wrinkle into the riddle.

“Bastard’s really hung up on himself,” said Max.

Yeah, that’s what she was afraid of.

Summer placed her hand into Max’s as she slid out of the limo. She was a regal princess in the strapless organza mermaid gown of sapphire blue that floated and shimmered behind her like a delicate fairy’s wing. The train was so beautiful she had to battle the desire to turn and watch it trail behind her.

The sapphire and diamond necklace weighed heavily around her neck, and matching earrings dripped from her lobes. Max and Logan had ordered the items the morning of her attack, or so they said. They’d informed her they planned to spoil her, and she had to admit, they were masters of spoil.

Their connections were nothing short of astounding. That afternoon, a hairstylist and manicurist had arrived at the apartment. Summer’s nails were a soft pink, and her hair had been upswept into a mass of curls and twirls with wispy tendrils framing her face. They had even managed to procure a matching PICC line cover for her arm, to which the FBI added a GPS tracking device.

Earlier, when she’d gazed in the mirror, she honestly hadn’t recognized the princess in the reflection.

When she hooked arms with both Max and Logan and stood between them, the flashbulbs started popping. Dan Wallace and some of his crew held the photographers at bay as she and her men entered the Roseland Ballroom. Summer heard several questions about her attack and break-in, but no mention of her being tied to the Society Murders. She didn’t know how the NYPD and the FBI had managed the feat, but she was extremely grateful.

Once inside, she took a deep breath. Her belly churned, as a foreboding trickled over her skin. Her plan was to stay away from the ladies and not provide a target on anyone else’s back but her own.

She spotted a waiter who looked like one of Wallace’s team. He winked at her and kept moving. A couple of the men were waiters but most were dressed in tuxes and worked the crowd. Wallace and another man were playing outright bodyguards tonight, which stirred the other patrons’ curiosity a bit.

“Are we having fun yet?” asked Logan.

“Yes. I feel like Cinderella.”

Logan leaned into her. “You know, Cinderella, we’re gonna to fuck you senseless when we get back to the apartment.”

Her insides clenched as awareness slid over her skin, and she smiled at his attempted southern drawl. “That’s what I’m hopin’ for. You do know I’m not wearin’ any panties.”

Logan cocked a brow.

Max leaned in and asked, “Really?”

“Yes. I’m only wearin’ garters and silk hose. Should speed things up a bit.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” said Max. “We’ll slowly, and I mean sloowwwly, peel you out of this dress.”

“Yeah. We want you in nothing but sapphires, diamonds, garters, hose and heels,” added Logan.

Her belly quaked at the image. “Cinderella can’t wait.”

“And your perfume makes me want to eat you alive,” said Max.

He had insisted on knowing the name of the fragrance she’d sported the first time they met. He said he could smell it across the aisle in the courtroom.
Jessica McClintock
was the only scent she wore, and that was only when she could snag a sample from the perfume counter. Now she had the body lotion, too.

Logan plucked two Champagne glasses from a passing tray and handed her one. After taking a wonderful sip, she made a mental note not to drink too much, because honestly, she could down this stuff like water.

A tall, older gentleman approached their group. “Nice to see you again, Max. Logan. And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got with you?”

“Bob,” said Max. “May I introduce Miss Summer Heat? Summer, meet Judge Bob Lewis.”

Summer extended her hand. “Judge Lewis, so nice to meet you.”

“No, my dear, the pleasure is all mine. I heard you gave Max a run for his money the other day. Hate like the devil I missed it.”

Heat crept up her face. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed. You should think about attending law school.” Judge Lewis’ eyes crinkled.

“No, thank you. I enjoyed absolutely nothin’ about my day in court. I do have a question for you. Why ain’t the lawyers required to take an oath to tell the truth?”

Judge Lewis coughed in an obvious but failed bid to hide his amusement. “That’s not a bad idea, my dear, but it would certainly hamper Max’s strategy.”

“Exactly.”

She grinned and gazed at Max, and he was nowhere close to being embarrassed.

“I have a duty to use whatever means within the law to obtain a favorable outcome for my client.”

“I bet he still sleeps like a baby at night,” said the judge.

Summer opened her mouth to vouch for that tidbit of information, but caught herself just in time. “I’m sure he does.” She took a sip to hide behind her glass. They all three slept well—when they were sleeping.

“If you go back to court, please let me know. I admire a defendant who has done her research.” The judge toasted her before leaving.

She hoped that revisiting court was on the other side of never.

“There you two are.”

Summer heard the woman’s voice before a man and woman appeared from out of the crowd. The green suit-style ball gown was lovely on the dark-haired lady, and the older gentleman was striking in a black tux.

“Hi, Mom,” said Logan, as he pulled this beautiful, petite lady into a hug.

Max shook the man’s hand.

“Mom and Dad, I’d like you to meet Miss Summer Heat. Summer, this is Jack and Maggie Preston,” said Logan.

Summer’s whole body jerked. Parents? Their parents were here, and she was sans underwear? Good Lord, what had she been thinking? Somehow, she got her mouth to move. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Preston grabbed Summer’s hand and squeezed it. “What a lovely girl you are. No wonder my two sons seem preoccupied.”

Heat fused Summer’s face; Mrs. Preston’s comment was too close to the truth. Surely, their parents didn’t know about the experiment.

“Em…thank you. You’re too kind.”

“Oh, no, Miss Heat,” said Mr. Preston. “My sons have great taste, but they’ve outdone themselves this time.”

His statement made her suspect their parents knew. She managed to smile, not quite knowing how to respond.

“Oh, stop, Jack. You’re embarrassing the poor girl.”

Summer forced another weak smile, as all the bodily harm she wanted to do to the brothers whipped through her mind at the speed of a racecar.

“We’re sitting with the Howells and the Winstons,” said Mrs. Preston. “I expect you to bring Summer around later for a chat.”

Oh, no
.

“Sure, Mom,” said Max. He kissed his mother on the cheek.

When the Prestons were out of earshot, Summer downed her champagne before whirling on the brothers. “Do your parents know about…us?”

Logan grinned. “I think they suspected something after we bid on you the other day.”

“And they are okay with that?”

Max shrugged. “They’re not the type of parents to interfere unless they believe we’re hurting someone. I can assure you, you’re in the best hands possible.”

She didn’t miss his innuendo but wouldn’t let them force her off the tracks. “Did you know they were gonna be here tonight?”

“They attend most fundraisers, but I had no idea if they’d actually be here,” said Max.

“Sounds like legal speak.”

Max leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “It is.”

“Listen,” said Logan, “Mom and Dad will love you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Really? Will they love me when they find out I’m not wearin’ any underwear, and that later, I intend to let you both have your way with me?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison.

Summer didn’t believe it for a second. What parents would want their sons involved in such a…a…an experiment?

“Relax, darling,” said Max. “They’ve invited us to dinner tomorrow.”

“No, no, no. I don’t want to do that. I’m sure they’re lovely people, but…”

Getting to know parents wasn’t part of the deal. Being entrenched in their lives was only supposed to be superficial. They acted as if this was forever. “Listen, guys, I’ve made a decision.”

A frown marred Max’s handsome face and concern filled Logan’s.

God, this was so hard to say. “I’ve decided the experiment should end when the Society Murder killer is apprehended.”

“Fuck, no,” said Logan.

Several people turned and stared.

“Calm down, Logan,” she said. “We agreed this wasn’t forever, and it’s good to have a deadline we all understand.”

Max grabbed Summer’s arms mindful of her wound, and pulled her to him. “Don’t you like us?” He sounded like a broken little boy.

“Of course, I like you, but this is and always has been temporary, and meeting your momma and daddy, well, that’s not part of this deal.”

“Why, Summer? Why impose that stupid stipulation now?” asked Logan.

She turned to face him. “I want to keep this on track.”
I have to protect myself
. There, she admitted it, if only to herself. When they got tired of her, they’d dump her, and she wanted—no,
needed
—to be away long before that happened. Right now, they were in he-man mode, saving the damsel in distress. As soon as the danger passed and the adrenaline high ended, they’d send her packing, and parting on her terms would be a hell of a lot easier than leaving on theirs. “Logan, you said any one of the three could walk, and I’m walkin’ when this maniac is caught.”

Handing her glass to Logan, she said, “Excuse me. I need the ladies room.” Summer had no idea where she needed to go, but it didn’t actually matter. Escaping before she messed up her makeup with a river of tears was the only thing uppermost in her mind. Enjoying this night was what she wanted, not to start a fight that no one would win.

She forced her mind away from the confrontation she couldn’t avoid and back to enjoying the evening. She admired the women’s dresses as she made her way to the edge of the room, but none were as awesome as hers was. Low-cut with bling was the flavor of the evening. Of course, her bling were stones she’d have to return—
dang it
.

Summer entered the bathroom and took the first stall. After a bit of struggling, she got the train material gathered so it wouldn’t be in her way and sat. She smiled, having never imagined the perils of wearing an evening gown.

The outside door opened and then slammed with a whoosh.

“Did you see that bitch with Logan and Max? I just want to scratch her damn eyes out.”

“Do you think she’s sleeping with both of them?” a different woman asked.

“Of course, she is. She’s their toy for now, but she’s only got her looks. I hear she’s poor as shit and can’t even pay her bills. She’s just trying to get what she can from them before they kick her southern whoring ass to the curb. God, she talks like the redneck she is. It must grate on the brothers’ nerves.”

“Did you see the necklace and earrings she’s wearing? They are beautiful. Do you think they gave them to her?”

“No. The Prestons like to fuck, and then they’ll send her packing with only the clothes on her back.”

Jealousy—hostility toward a rival or one believed to enjoy an advantage—was something at which the female population excelled.

And it irked the shit out of her.