Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (16 page)

He cleared the gravelly feeling from his throat, grabbed his robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and slung it on as he said, “Hank, this is Ben. What’s up?”

“Ben, I’m sorry to bother you this early in the morning. I’m out here on FM 709, about a mile and a half from the river bridge, looking at Camilla O’Neal’s car in the ditch.”

“Yeah, she broke down last night. We picked her up while she was walking out to the Warners’ at Divine Creek Ranch.”

“Divine Creek—
shit
, that’s at least a three-mile walk! In that downpour? Was she all right?”

“She was chilled and soaked to the bone, but we got her warmed up.” As he said that, Camilla made eye contact with him. She blushed and smiled. Quinten handed her a robe and then slipped into sweats and T-shirt. “She’s still here.”

“That’s what Quinten said. You guys sick or something? You both sound weird.” Ben’s dick ached viciously as Hank reminded him of his unappeased state. That ache in his balls was likely to last all day. “Listen. I was about to start searching for Camilla, but I’m glad to know you have her. I’m not just calling about her car, which seems undamaged. I’m calling about her house. It’s been broken into.”

“What?” His tone got Quinten and Camilla’s attention as they planted themselves on the end of the bed.

“A neighbor went over to check on her and saw that the door was ajar. She knocked and could see that the inside of the house had been turned upside down. Ransacked. I’ve got deputies over there right now dusting for fingerprints. She’s had some water damage too.”

“She was planning to stay with Grace until the leak in the roof is fixed or things dry out. Want us to bring her to the house?”

“Yeah. I’ll get the report filed. Maybe they’ll find something we can go on in the investigation. Road crews are headed to the bridge right now to take down the temporary barriers so you should be able to get into town with no trouble. Be careful crossing the bridge. There may still be debris on the road surface. You need help with the car?”

“Nah. One of us will take care of it and the other will bring her home. Thanks, Hank.” He ended the call, and his heart sank at the way Camilla’s face fell. The little bubble they’d been living in for the last few hours burst and reality intruded. Ben looked at his feet and made a decision. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, but fate evidently had other plans.

“What happened?” The uncertainty in her voice, and the way her brows furrowed brought out his protective instincts.

“Your house was broken into last night. They ransacked it.”

“Damn it.” Quinten stroked her shoulder and whispered something in commiseration. “Well, I guess I’d better get dressed, huh?”

By this point Ben’s erection was losing steam, but his balls hurt like a toothache. They’d have to finish what they’d started at another time. He gritted his teeth as he nodded.

“I’ll get your clothes from the dryer, baby.” Quinten rose from the bed, and Camilla’s eyebrows shot up.

“Did you wash and dry my outfit?”

“Yes. It was muddy. I hope that was okay.”

Camilla chuckled halfheartedly. “Well, that’s one costume you won’t have to worry about me wearing again.”

“Why?”

“You can’t put that stuff in the dryer. It’d ruin it.” She shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. I wasn’t planning to wear it to work again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know. Well…you could still wear the headband if you wanted,” he said, lifting the item off the bathroom counter. “The feather is a little wilted.”

Camilla smiled at him and threw a pillow as she climbed from the bed. “Got more sweats and a dark T-shirt I can wear? I have a change of clothing in the overnight bag in my trunk.”

“Good. And you’re staying with us tonight.” Ben tried to soften his decisive tone as she looked over at him with an eyebrow arched. “We’d
like
it if you’d stay with us.”

“Please?” Quinten cajoled as he brought her another set of clothes, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes.

Camilla rolled her eyes and laughed at him. “Stop. Yes, I’ll stay.”

Ben hoped that they could turn this bad situation around into something positive. Maybe she’d stay for good. It was a pleasant thought, but it did absolutely nothing to alleviate the ache in his nuts.

Camilla glanced at Quinten as he drove them into Divine in his truck. She knew from past experience that Ben and Quinten were both pretty handy under a hood and her car was safe with either one of them.

“I feel sorry for Ben,” she murmured, recalling the disappointment on his face when Quinten had held up the phone. Phone calls at that hour of the morning were never a good sign. She also felt a tiny bit sorry for herself. She’d been primed and ready for round two.

“Ah, he’ll be okay. Just a little out of sorts. I think he was afraid of showing his horns.”

Camilla chuckled softly but pooched her lip out, too. It wasn’t funny. She smiled as she began planning what she’d do for him that evening. It wasn’t lost on her that she’d capitulated rather easily to Ben’s demand that she stay another night.
Be careful. Next thing you know, you’ll be expecting it, and then you’ll be making all kinds of assumptions.

“Do you have a stereo in the living room?”

“Yes.
Why?
” Quinten kept his eyes on the road, but she could see the speculative gleam in them.

“I have a little plan…”

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the curb at her house. It’d taken longer to get to her house than they planned because of all the storm debris on the road. There were two sheriff’s department vehicles parked out front as well. The driveway and yard were littered with fallen tree branches and other windblown rubbish. The lights were on inside, and it felt strange to walk up to her house knowing that the sanctity of her privacy had been violated and even now there were strangers in her home, although they were just doing their jobs.

Hank met her on the porch and shook her hand, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Beyond that sympathy, she saw a little bit of steel and reflexively averted her gaze as her “Dom-dar” went off. “Camilla, I’m glad you’re safe and that you weren’t home when the intruder broke in.”

“Thank you, Hank. I am, too. Sorry if I worried you.”

In a lower tone, Hank said, “Three miles in the rain?”

What is it with all these bossy, dominant men popping out of the woodwork?

“I didn’t make it that far. Ben and Quinten found me and gave me a ride home.”

Hank let out a long breath. “The women of Divine are unknowingly giving me an ulcer. I’m gonna have to retire early to give my heart a rest. Next time you break down, will you
please
stay in your vehicle until help can come to you?”

Quinten had already gone in the house and looked at her over Hank’s shoulder and nodded his head as if to say, “
Uh-huh
!”

“Yes, sir.”
So much for being a self-rescuing princess.

Hank pushed the front door open so she could get inside, and she cringed at what she saw. “They’re about done dusting for prints. Can you take a look around and tell me if you’re missing anything?”

Judging by the state of her formerly pristine little house on Redbird Lane, that was going to be hard to tell.

“Just have a look-see and tell me if you notice items of value aren’t in the rooms they should be in. I know it’s chaos compared to what you’re used to.”

“Sure.”

She made a beeline for her room and moaned when she saw the top shelf of her closet was barren. She whirled around, trying to control her emotions as her eyes darted about until they landed on the shoe box lying on the bed. The mailing address of her old apartment from years ago and cancelled postage was on the outside of the simple box. She clutched it to her and turned when she heard a noise at the door. It was Quinten, with a concerned look on his face.

“Close your eyes, baby.” She stood there clutching the box, and something about his tone convinced her to obey him. He rubbed her shoulders and stroked her hair. “Remember this room the way that it was, and list the things that you had of value in it.” His warm fingertips at her nape helped to center her as she took a deep breath and calmness descended. She took a deep breath and her rapid heart rate slowed its pace.

“Some of the contents of my jewelry box.”

He moved around the room as she stood with her eyes closed and she heard something rustle. “Okay.”

“Sound system on the dresser.”

“Okay.” His tone was smooth, almost leading her in her memory scan around the room.

“Two nice leather jackets in the closet.”

She heard shuffling in the closet and a muffled, “Okay.”

“Also in the closet, there’s a pair of bright-red lizard-skin Tony Lamas with one thousand dollars in cash tucked inside the toe of the right boot.” She opened her eyes when he chuckled and found him standing in the ransacked closet with the boots in question and a roll of bills in one hand. The look of disbelief on his face was comical.

“You had a thousand dollars…tucked in a boot?”

“It’s my emergency fund. Did you see how many pairs of boots and shoes I own? Who’s gonna search every single one?”

“Good thinking, baby. Everything that you mentioned is still here, although…”—he gestured to the jumble—“it’s now on your floor.” He picked up her sweet little surround sound system and replaced it and its speakers on the dresser. “Hope it still works.” He handed her the wad of cash, and they went through the rest of the house in much the same manner.

She followed Quinten into the other bedroom, which she’d converted into a small dance studio with mirrors lining one wall. Quinten gaped at her and pointed at the two metal poles bolted solidly into the floor and ceiling and located several feet apart in the middle of the room.

“I give pole dancing and striptease lessons from time to time.”

Quinten and she inspected the sound equipment in the corner, which seemed to have been disturbed but at least it hadn’t been tossed about the room.

“Thank goodness for small favors. I wouldn’t want to replace all of that.”

Quinten smirked. “I’m hoping maybe this means I’ll get a private show sometime.
Rowr
, baby.” His naughtiness put a smile on her face which was welcome at the moment.

“That could be arranged.”
Maybe sooner than you think
. She snuggled against him for a few seconds while they were alone in the room. She breathed with him, wondering what would happen next and grateful that she wasn’t standing alone in the room.
Why? Why would someone do this?
She didn’t have an expensive lifestyle, display a lot of wealth, or draw attention to herself. She had her sound system but otherwise her collection of electronic gadgetry was slim pickings for a thief, and they hadn’t taken any of it.
Why?

Quinten stroked the back of her head as she put her arms around his waist. “You’ll drive yourself crazy wondering about it.”

“About what?”

“Wondering why this happened. The truth is you may never know. So don’t torment yourself.”

“Was it written on my face?”
Can he read my mind now the way Grace insists Ethan can sometimes read hers?

“It’s normal to focus on why it happened. I just figured you were by the way your eyebrows were all scrunched up as I held you. Come on. Hank is probably waiting for us to finish. I’ll help you.” His warm, solid hand felt so nice wrapped around hers. She was grateful that he was there with her.

Hank nodded when she told him that nothing of value was missing. “Camilla, do you have any enemies? Anyone who might think you had something of theirs?”

Looking around, she realized what he was getting at. “You think they were looking for something?”

“Notice that nothing is purposely broken or vandalized. The furniture is ripped open, but the stuffing isn’t strewn everywhere. The pictures are off the walls but not broken. They weren’t bent on mischief or scaring you. They wanted something. And we didn’t get any usable prints. There’s nothing of value missing?”

“Not that I can tell. It’ll take a while to put everything back and be sure, but I don’t think anything is missing. Everything I have I own outright, so I don’t know what they’d be looking for. I don’t owe anyone money.”

Quinten spoke up just then. “What about…what’s-his-name? The embezzler?”

“Tyler? I cut all ties with him. He should still be at Huntsville. I cooperated with the authorities in his investigation, but I honestly didn’t know that much about him. Not as much as I thought I did.”

“Give me what you can on him anyway. I’ll look into it,” Hank said as he took out his smartphone and started tapping the screen. She provided what information she could recall about him. Something about this whole scenario didn’t sit right with her.

“There was a guy who pulled me off the stage at the Dollhouse, a few years ago. Cody, Heath, and Spencer roughed him up before they kicked him out of the club. But I have no idea what his name was. I’d never seen him before or since. I doubt the guys knew his name either, but I can ask them.”