One to Protect (One to Hold Book 3) (4 page)

Jessica Black
. It was the name on the email Melissa had put in front of me that day she visited our offices. The day she dropped a nuke on all my dreams of a life with her, when she revealed my former “mentor,” her ex-husband Sloan Reynolds’s secret double-life. He had high-end escorts all over the country, and Jessica Black was his first careless slip. Melissa had found it.

Nikki was still reminiscing as I spun around in my chair, shaking my computer awake. Fingers flying over the keys, I pulled up all the information I could find on the dead girl.

She’d been living in Baltimore for a year. I wondered if she followed him from wherever they’d hooked up the first time.
Why would she do that? Was it possible she was in love with him? Was it for the money? Had he promised her anything?

It didn’t matter. She’d disappeared off the police blotter from the time she arrived there until now, when she’d turned up dead.

Reasons scrolled across my brain of all the possible causes of death, but looking at her beaten face, all I could see was the photo Melissa had put in front of me all those months ago.

My instincts were on high alert. Sloan was getting antsy, and I knew what he wanted. Jessica Black might look like the real thing, but she wasn’t it.

Substitutes would never fill the possession he felt. I’d followed enough of these twisted fucks to know. He was coming for Melissa, and it was just a matter of when.

All last week, I’d tracked down every misstep I could find on him, looking for anything that would stick, that would get him off the streets or at least keep him in Baltimore. I hoped to find a recent paper trail linking him to Jessica, but every lead came up cold. He was either too slick, or his people buried everything.

Even the guy I had watching Sloan in Baltimore had nothing. Jessica disappeared a week before I’d hired him, a month after Sloan had broken into Mel’s beach cottage and then gotten off with a slap on the wrist. Apparently I’d moved too quickly when he waltzed into her home threatening to rape her. We had to wait until he actually committed the crime for his money and position not to matter.

The thought clenched my jaw. It was the one thing above all that caused the “stress” Nikki kept texting Melissa about. Only “stress” wasn’t what I felt. What I felt was flat-out fucking rage.

The best part was when he threatened me in court with police brutality charges. I’d nearly brutalized him on the spot, but Melissa held me back. I’ll never forget her face. She went still as a stone, as if it was the ending she always expected. It was like a heel-kick straight to my gut. I couldn’t let her down that way.

Now all she’ll say is she wants those memories left in the past.
Just let it go
, she tells me.

Fuck that. That asshole is a threat to my family, and it’s clear he’s dangerous. Priority 1 is devising a plan to bring him in, and it has to be something that won’t ooze off his slimy back.

Snatching my phone off its base, I hit the speed-dial button.

Patrick answers, cocky as always. “Don’t tell me. You’ve come to your senses and realized life at the beach is the only way to live.”

“I need you to up the watch on Melissa.”

I appreciate how his tone becomes immediately serious. “What’s going on?”

“I have to finish a few details for our new Houston client, and then I’m headed your way, possibly for a while.”

“This can only mean one thing. Or one asshole.”

“I’m emailing a report and mug shots to you now. The name’s Jessica Black.” Fingers clicking on the keys, I shoot everything I’ve found to him. “I’ve exhausted all my sources here. See if you can do anything from there with it.”

“Sure.” He’s silent for a moment, reading. “Jessica Black… Raleigh? That’s just down the road. I’ll rattle a few cages.”

“If you do find anything, I need to know why she moved to Baltimore. What she was doing there. If she was seeing anybody and who.”

“Did you tell Melissa about this?”

Pressing my lips together, I rock back in my chair. “No.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

“Not really, but I’ll tell her when the time is right. I don’t want her to be afraid.”

Sitting forward again, I pull up the report for our Houston client and read over what’s still outstanding. A full system analysis is due Friday. I lost a significant portion of last week searching all the police databases for information on Miss Black.

“If I pull some extra hours, I can have Houston wrapped up and out of here by Wednesday.” I start a log on my desktop of what’s still outstanding, what jobs are lined up next, and what I can handle from Wilmington in case I can’t get back right away.

Nikki’s thank you gift can be a week off with pay, maybe a Spa Finder mini-holiday. In the middle of planning my getaway, I realize Patrick is still on the line.

“Sorry to keep you in a holding pattern.”

“No worries. I can tell this is serious. Somehow. Even though you haven’t told me any details.”

Patrick can turn any situation into a joke, and I alternate between being pissed and being glad about it. At the moment, I’m too focused on closing the office and getting to Wilmington to lose time on it.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Just keep your eyes on Mel.”

“She’ll be as protected as the crown jewels.”

It doesn’t satisfy the tightness in my chest. “Maybe Elaine could invite her to stay in your guest room til Thursday.”

“You’re joking, right? You know Mel won’t leave that cottage without a mandatory evacuation order.”

Studying my notes, I wonder how many boxes I’d have to pack if I left for Wilmington today. No, I have to wrap up this damn Houston case here, where I can focus.

Frustrated, I push the laptop back on my desk. “We’re professionals, dammit. Get creative.”

He laughs. “What would work if you were Melissa? I’d say we invite her over for dinner and mix her drinks too strong, but she’s pregnant. And even if she were still drinking, we couldn’t keep the party going for three nights. Just tell her what’s up.”

“If I can be there on Wednesday, I will.”

“Fine, but will you at least tell me what’s going on? Who is Jessica Black? Or who
was
, I guess…”

“Jessica Black was a high-end hooker, an escort. She was also one of Sloan’s regulars. A few years ago, she was beaten pretty badly, but she wouldn’t report the guy. Then she moved to Baltimore. I don’t have anything concrete, but my gut says she fell in love with him. How, I can’t imagine. Now she’s dead.”

Silence meets my ear for several moments. When Patrick speaks again, his voice is sober, all joking gone. “And she looks a helluva lot like Melissa.”

“Right.”

“I know what to do.”

In that one sentence I hear my partner lock into closer mode, and it’s right where I want him. Patrick can be a royal fuck up when it comes to women, but he’s damn good at his job. And to her credit, Elaine seems to have put an end to his screwing around.

“I’ve got an idea,” he continues. “It’s something I floated past you a while back, but now with this… Raleigh… I might have a connection to what you need.”

“I didn’t expect anything less. See you in a few days, and Patrick? Thanks. I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing more than you’d do for me.”

“You know it.”

Chapter 3: Backup Plan

Melissa

Eight hours separate Princeton, New Jersey, from Wilmington, North Carolina. Eight long, boring, tedious hours.

I’ve been hesitant to push the relocation issue on Derek—I want him to be as happy in his hometown as I am in mine—but one more of these long drives, and I might have to rethink that approach.

The only interesting part is keeping track of the cars I pass. One silver Honda seems to always be with me, a few cars behind, but Hondas are pretty common. As tired as I feel, I’m practically seeing double at this point.

Stopping for a fourth bathroom break and to walk around, I’m halfway through Virginia when I send Derek a quick text.
Made it to Richmond. Only four stops this time.

It doesn’t take five seconds for him to text back.
Thanks for letting me know. Never stop in Baltimore without me.

My nose wrinkles at his overprotectiveness.
The whole city isn’t off-limits. Aunt Bea is there.

Will take you to see her soon. Her cupcakes are my favorite.

I can’t help a laugh imagining what my old-fashioned client, a sweet little baker, will say when she meets my fiancé.
She’ll love you.

I love you. You’re so beautiful in my bed. It’s hard to let you go.

Those words erase all the exhaustion—and the mild irritation at being treated like a china doll. Warmth floods my middle.
I didn’t get enough sleep this weekend.

Wasn’t that the point?

Hmm… the point had actually been to find out what’s got my future husband so tense and distracted, but between his mouth and my hands and that new red lingerie, that plan had been all but forgotten.

Suddenly the thought of three nights without him seems unbearably lonely.
See you Friday?

Maybe sooner.

Sooner?
A line pierces my forehead.

While I love the idea of not having to wait four whole days to see him, I know he’s setting up a new client, and their reports and analyses usually take a month to prepare. Patrick’s complained about it before.

I’ll explain when I get there. Kiss yourself, kiss baby.

That would be some trick. Love you, Xoxo

Love you more. xxx

I toss the thin phone into my bag and top off my tank before climbing in and getting back on the road. I’m on the Interstate again, and a quick glance to my mirror says Silver Accord is, too. Whatever. Next stop will be my cozy cottage on the most beautiful stretch of beach north of Miami.

My phone buzzes just as I’m pushing through the front door, holding my overnight case and trying to juggle my keys and bag. Inside, I drop everything and look at the face. Elaine. Voicemail dings.

Hitting the button, I put the audio on speaker and set my phone on the counter before unzipping my luggage and digging out my laundry.

“Where are you?” Elaine’s bossy, middle-school-teacher voice is a mixture of concern and amusement. “I know, I know. You couldn’t leave him. If Derek Alexander convinces you to move eight hours away from me, I’ll never speak to either of you again. You know I hated that drive to Baltimore.”

And Princeton’s even further
, I mentally add.

“So I have this whole supper made up for you, and you’re going to come over and give me the scoop. I don’t want to hear about how tired you are—you were supposed to be home last night. I spent the whole day cooking.”

Laughing I shake my head. More like the crock-pot spent the whole day cooking while she was at school.

“Call me. Love you.”

Hitting her name on my phone, it doesn’t ring once before she answers. “Are you home?”

“Yes, and it was a long drive, and I’m—”

“On your way here to have a nice, comfort-food dinner. I made beef stew, and you don’t even have to change. Patrick won’t mind.”

“Lainey…”

But she’s off the phone before I can argue. My stomach grumbles, and I concede. This baby keeps me starving—he’ll probably be as big as his daddy—and I don’t feel like cooking or eating whatever I can scrape together here.

Catching the strap of my bag, I toss it over the shoulder and head back to the car. At least her place is close.

The savory aroma of celery and garlic, meat and potatoes fills my nose when I open the door. Elaine’s got the top off her slow cooker, and the golden boy is right behind her, lifting her light-blonde hair and kissing her neck.

“Okay, knock it off,” I complain in a loud, teasing voice.

Elaine drops the lid with a cry and crosses the room to hug me. “How are you feeling?” She leans back and studies my face with a frown. “You look tired.”

“I am tired! I told you that.” I hug her back. “You dragged me over here, now give me food. And I won’t sit and watch you two making out all through dinner.”

Patrick leans against the counter smiling at us. His arms are crossed over his lined chest, and he’s perfectly handsome in faded jeans and a dark green tee. His sandy-brown hair is shaggy in his hazel eyes.

I’ve never been happier about my best friend’s love life. Elaine used to play it safe when it came to men, which doesn’t suit her personality at all. She was miserable with Boring Brian, and I’m glad she took a chance and stepped outside her comfort zone. Patrick is just the sweet bad boy she needs.

“Hey, girl.” His voice always sounds like sunshine. “Ginger ale?”

“Sure.” I nod, dropping my bag on the counter and allowing Elaine to pull me to the couch in their living room.

“So what did you find out?”