Girl Three (22 page)

“He kept them for use as donor eggs, without Sam’s knowledge or consent, as far as I can tell. That’s why I
broke into
Ian’s practice. Sam’s files are in my purse. If you’re looking for a bona fide motive, look at Ian. Maybe Sam found out he’d double-crossed her. Maybe Ian had to kill her before she outed him. Who knows what he’s done to other patients if he would do that to her?”

Chapter Thirty

Michael’s stomach coiled. “So how does Senator Briel fit in to all of this? I saw her from across the street when she showed up at Ian’s tonight.”

Jessie looked at him expectantly.

“I figured she and Ian were meeting Helena and Philippe there, then going out together or something.”

Jessie shook her head, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Nothing that innocent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ian and Elizabeth are having an affair,” she said. “I heard them having sex.”

Michael drew back. Jessie must’ve been too far away from them for her phone to transmit that drama to his Bluetooth. He rubbed his forehead, remembering how Ian had called him out for staring at Senator Briel at Sam’s memorial. “That’s hard to believe. What would a woman like her possibly see in him?”

Jessie looked lost for answers. “Especially when she has a husband like Philippe.”

Michael shifted in his seat, trying to ignore a pang of jealousy. Earlier tonight, he’d watched Jessie and Philippe through the picture window of the cupcake shop. After her what-a-man remark about Philippe, his lean-in whispers and kiss on her cheek took on more significant meaning.

“I can’t imagine Philippe knows about the affair,” Jessie said.

“Or Helena.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. “She would literally kill Ian if she knew.”

“Are you thinking about telling them?”

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure. I have no idea what kind of arrangements they have in their marriages. I’m more interested in using the information to find out more about Sam’s murder.”

He looked at her as if she’d missed something obvious. “Or to protect yourself.”

Fear seeped into her eyes. He hated to keep hammering home the danger factor, but he needed her to get it. To expect evil—although he wouldn’t phrase it that way to her.

“Maybe there’s a way I can do both.” She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a yawn. “Excuse me.”

“You forgot to say it’s not the company.”

She smiled. A genuine, gleaming smile that lit her eyes.

Michael’s heart fired through an entire clip in a matter of seconds. His phone rang, dulling the moment. He pulled it from his belt and glanced at the screen.
Damn Croft.
Michael had already ignored one call from the judge tonight. He couldn’t ignore two.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said. “It’s business.”

Jessie nodded but looked surprised when he left his seat.

“Sit tight. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” He headed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Hello.”

“Busy evening?” Croft asked.

Instinctively, Michael scanned the half-empty restaurant, almost expecting to see Croft smirking back at him with a
gotcha
grin on his face. Relieved that he didn’t, he ducked into the stairwell that led to the restrooms.

“Yes,” he said. “Very busy.”

…

Jessie had noted Michael’s deliberately controlled reactions to the caller ID on his phone—an almost imperceptible tilt of his chin and tension around his eyes. Then he’d gone downstairs to take the call.

Minutes passed as she sat alone, finishing her hot chocolate. Her body still hummed with the elusive chemistry she felt with Michael. Over the years, she’d had little time for relationships and just as little interest in them. Her career had been more important. She’d dated some, but she hadn’t met the right guy. And she certainly hadn’t met anyone who’d intrigued her like Michael.

After an unusual amount of time for a phone call, Jessie began to wonder if he was coming back. He’d said it was a business call. Maybe there had been some kind of emergency and he’d had to leave. But his coat was still draped over the chair. And wouldn’t he have at least called her to let her know?

She felt increasingly uneasy sitting alone in the dining area, mulling over her conversation with Michael.
Talmont has a reputation for retaliation when he doesn’t get his way.
And she could still hear Ian’s determined promise to
take care
of her. She tried to convince herself that she was simply being paranoid, but the tension in her body told her otherwise. The feeling was frightening but familiar, thanks to the stalker she’d managed to attract.

More minutes ticked away, and she decided to text Michael before she gave up waiting.

You okay?

No response.

Jessie put on her coat and slipped her gun from her purse to her pocket. She took a ten out of her wallet, tossed it on the table, and made her way down the dim stairwell.

On her way out, she looked for Michael in the downstairs dining areas and in the bookstore, but didn’t see him. She wasn’t sure what to make of him leaving like he did, but she hoped there was a simple explanation for it. He’d emphasized the danger she was in for asking questions about Sam’s murder. Wouldn’t the same go for him, since he was asking questions, too?

Jessie started to worry about both of them as she wove her way through the bookstore and stepped out to the sidewalk that flanked Connecticut Avenue. She winced against the frigid, gusting wind. Jamming her hands into her pockets and clutching her gun, she set off on the three-block walk to Sam’s place.

Townhouse-lined 19th Street was eerily quiet. She passed a man walking a beagle but no one else. Keeping watch for sudden movement, she crossed to the better lit side of the street.

One car passed.

A pizza delivery guy buzzed by on a scooter.

Quick footsteps clicked on the sidewalk a ways behind her, their sound carried on the wind. She glanced back, but didn’t see anyone. Her steps matched the steady rate of her pulse, both picking up pace. She looked for traffic and stepped off the curb to cross S Street.

“Jessie,” a man called from a distance.

Michael?
She turned.

An engine revved. A dark SUV that had been parked along S Street barreled toward her, headlights off.

Jessie saw it in freeze-frame.

The SUV bore down on her. Its shiny grille glinted beneath the streetlight, mesmerizing her and rooting her where she stood.

“Jessie!” It was Michael, closer now.

She lunged for the curb but the side mirror of the SUV caught her behind her shoulder and spun her around. Pain splintered down her arm and exploded across her back. She fell hard onto the frozen pavement, stunned.

The engine roared, then its sound grew distant.

Electric fear shot Jessie to her knees, scrambling for the sidewalk. She fumbled in her pocket for her gun, whipped it out, and pointed it toward the empty street. Her hand trembled, but her grip was tight.

Footsteps ticked louder. She turned to see Michael running toward her. When he got close, he slowed.

She pointed the gun at the ground.

Michael blinked cautiously and gave her a sidelong look. He kept his hands in sight and raised them slowly. “Are you all right?” His voice bristled with worry.

She planted one foot beneath her and stood. Blood pulsed in her head, and she reeled with dizziness. Her shoulder throbbed.

Michael risked a step toward her. “Please, Jessie. Listen to me. You’re in no condition to be handling a gun. How about putting it away?”

“And leave myself defenseless? What if the person in that SUV comes back?” She gripped the gun tighter.

Something shifted in his expression. “You’re not defenseless.” He took a tentative step closer. “I’m here for you,” he said, and a shiver ran through her. “Let me prove it.”

“How?”

“First, put the gun away. Then I’ll take you to the hospital and get you checked out.”

“No. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

His brow furrowed, his look anxious and sincere. “What about the gun?”

She glanced up and down the street, then shifted her gaze to his handsome, guileless face.

God, she wanted to trust him.

He buttoned his coat as a gust of wind tousled his hair. “I’m sorry my phone call took so long. I couldn’t interrupt it to text you back. My client is…powerful, controlling.” He shook his head. “It was inconsiderate of me to take the call, but that’s my job.”

He reached out and clutched her free hand. Warmth radiated from beneath his cool palm. “I wish you’d stayed.”

Jessie glanced at her gun and dropped it into her coat pocket. She stood shivering and unguarded, with pain shooting from her shoulder through her back.

Michael drew her to him carefully, one arm strong around her waist. He held her gaze and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her lips. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt like she was falling.

He slid his hand to the back of her neck. The brush of his fingertips sent feathery tingles down her back. He cradled her head and kissed her, tentative and soft, with a sexy rasp of whiskers against her lips.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. Pain shot through her shoulder but it was worth the pleasure of feeling his tightly muscled body against hers.

He deepened their kiss with sensuous sweeps of his tongue. Warmth swirled through Jessie despite the cold. She felt an urgency with him that she hadn’t experienced before. Maybe it was partly the danger that made her want him, but she knew it was more than that.

He trailed kisses along her cheek and murmured in her ear. “Jessie.”

His warm breath electrified every nerve in her body. She guided his lips back to hers and kissed him longingly, feeling alive…and safe.

Chapter Thirty-One

The rev of an engine shot panic through Jessie. She reacted in a painful instant, pulling away from Michael.

“They’ve circled around. They’re coming back,” she said, breathless. She backed against the high, prickly hedge that flanked the sidewalk.

Michael blocked her with his body. “Don’t pull your gun.”

The vehicle sounded closer. Jessie held her breath as she leaned around the hedge to get a glimpse of it beyond the line of parked cars.

“Stay behind me.” Michael’s voice was firm and controlled.

The vehicle crept into view—a red Mercedes illuminated beneath the streetlight. Inside, an older, gray-bearded man stared ahead.

Jessie exhaled. “Obviously, that’s not the SUV that hit me.” A vengeful side of her wished it was.

“Let’s get to Sam’s place,” Michael said. “If that bastard comes back, let him worry whether he got the job done.” He turned to Jessie. “Are you okay to walk?”

She nodded, feeling flushed and a little self-conscious about what had just happened between them. “The side mirror clipped my shoulder. It’ll be bruised.” She rolled her arm back and winced at the shooting pain. “Some of the muscles are pulled, but it’s not dislocated or broken.”

Michael put his arm protectively around her as they walked toward Sam’s townhouse. “I saw the SUV from a distance. All I could tell was that it was big and dark.”

“It happened so fast, but in slow motion, if that makes sense.” She glanced up at him. The look in his eyes told her that he related. Maybe he’d had similar experiences that hadn’t ended as well.

“It was black, with a huge grille on the front.” She remembered how the chrome had shimmered in the streetlight, and how she had been paralyzed by its hypnotic effect. “It might’ve been a Cadillac or a Lincoln. I’m not sure. I didn’t get a look at the driver or the license plate number. Now that I think about it, there may not have been a license plate on the front.”

“I’m not sure it really matters,” Michael said.

Jessie flinched. “Don’t you think the details will be key in finding out who just tried to kill me?”

“I wish I could say yes, but I doubt they would.”

“Why not?”

“There are probably so many degrees of separation that you’d be wasting time chasing phantoms.”

Jessie remembered thinking the same thing after the four-dollar man had given her the envelope outside of Philippe’s building.

Michael scanned the area as they turned onto the brick walk in front of Sam’s place. “My guesses are that the SUV was rented with cash, by someone with a fake driver’s license. The plates were switched or removed, and the driver had no idea who hired him to run you down.”

“Maybe someone was just trying to scare me,” Jessie said, although she didn’t really believe it.

“I doubt it. I know that’s what you want to think, but you can’t.” He stopped, took her hand, and faced her. “You can’t.” He set his jaw and stared at her, a do-you-understand question in his eyes.

“Okay.” Jessie bowed her head against his shoulder. “I understand.”

“Let’s get inside.”

They walked up the front steps and Michael opened the gate while she found her key and unlocked the door. She started to step inside, then noticed another white envelope in the slot of Sam’s mailbox. Her secret pal’s delivery style had become much less creative. She pulled out the envelope. “Another special delivery.”

Michael followed her. He closed the gate and the door, making sure that both were securely locked.

Jessie stared at the envelope, dreading what she’d find inside.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

She handed it to him. “You do it.”

He turned the envelope over in his hands, looking for something telling, and shrugged.

“Nothing remarkable,” she said. “They’re the same every time.”

“Pretty basic.” He tore open the envelope and turned the ragged edge toward her.

She inched out the glossy paper inside and unfolded the page. At first glance, it looked like a copy of the multi-framed layout of Sam coming and going from Ian’s office. Most of the shots looked the same, but the woman pictured was Senator Elizabeth Briel.

“This is old information.” Disappointment added to Jessie’s exhaustion. “Deciphering the meaning of these pictures is simple. I already know about Elizabeth’s affair with Ian.”