She Does Know Jack (5 page)

“Did you enjoy
it?”

Danger! Danger!
Her internal
alarm blared in her head. Once again, they were working on the same case, but
from different angles. Maybe. She had yet to determine his role at The
Limelight
,
or his purpose here for that matter. Security? To usurp his
brother’s happiness?

Straightening
her shoulders, she set her resolve and moved around him. Jack was a no-no, and
a suspect. She dragged in a breath, then released it. “I think we should go.”
With another gulp of air, she smoothed her gown and headed for the door.

“You didn’t
answer my question,” he called from behind.

Brielle smiled
as she walked back into the gathering room. “I know.”

J
ack knew trouble when he saw it. And the
sexy brunette swaying from him as she left the study was five-foot-eight-inches
of bedlam with a capital B. Chocolate brown eyes that could go from warm to
cold in a blink. Soft brown hair he couldn’t resist touching. And those lips.
Damn. They were full, and kissable, and son-of-a-bitch if he didn’t have the
strongest urge to taste them. No woman had affected him that way. Not since
that French dancer at The Limelight. At least Ariel had been friendly and
pleasant, not prickly and crazy and…and just as sexy as hell. Damn.

Brielle Bennett
was the most exasperating female he’d ever met. He jammed his fists into his
pockets, and followed her from the room, lost in the debate over what held more
appeal—throttling the woman or ravishing her until she called out his name in a
throaty purr of satisfaction.

He jerked the
study door closed behind him. Definitely the latter.

The scene before
him didn’t make him feel any better. Christ. Why did he have the feeling this
circus just turned into the three-ring variety?

A bevy of
hopeful Mrs. Andersons surrounded Matthew, each laughing and batting their
eyelashes as they vied for his attention in the middle of the room. Jack wedged
his fists back into his pockets and refrained from shaking his head. He hoped
Matthew knew what the hell he was doing.

In a crazy sort
of way, he understood why his brother sought a companion through this extreme
means. Like him, Matthew had never lacked for women, but Jack always seemed to
pick the wrong type. His gaze bounced from one female to the next. He was
beginning to think there was no
right type
.

Poor Matthew attracted
gold-diggers like glitter to glue, while Jack tended to attract clinging vines.
They twisted into his world so tightly, they stifled the breath from him until
his life was no longer his own. But the worst were the liars.

Sighing, he
steered clear of the circle and walked to the fireplace. It’d been nearly three
years since he’d had a serious relationship. A thing of the past. He’d had his
share of pain and refused to go down that road again. A bitter taste overtook
his mouth and spawned a grimace.

Careful when it
came to women, he knew which ones to avoid. If they looked to him to slay their
dragons or had a need to smother him, he ignored their advances and continued
with his safe, controlled, solitary life. That’s the way he liked it, but not
Matthew. His brother still believed the right woman was out there for him, and
decided this screwball of a show was the perfect way to
meet his mate
.

With a
suppressed groan, he leaned against the mantle and surveyed the contestants
again. He’d be damned if he’d allow Matthew to choose unwisely or, worse, end
up dead.

Captain Jack
“Dodger” Anderson—the nickname his squad had given him due to the number of
bullets he’d dodged during the war—was used to adversity. Capable of surviving
off the land and killing a human in more ways than he cared to admit, he’d been
in many harrowing situations much worse than this. But this mission was
different. It was personal. And he knew it would prove to be his toughest yet.
Solving this case before someone got hurt or the show ended and the culprit got
away would be the ultimate test.

So far, the damn
cameras hadn’t caught anything useful, neither had old fashioned investigation.
If only the contestants’ rooms had cameras. No doubt they’d have caught the
perpetrator writing the damn threats. But privacy laws prohibited such use,
unless the contestant granted permission.
That would be a negatory
. Jaw
cracking from his clamping teeth, he acknowledged frustration was his constant
companion.

He’d thought
working undercover on the home-invasion case with the L.A.P.D. last year had
been tough, and with so many sexy women... He frowned. Actually, that had been
the one and only time he’d ever crossed the line and fraternized with a
suspect.

Ariel.

Jack scratched
his temple. Weird. Twice now, in five minutes Ariel had crossed his thoughts.
Must be because a dancer had entered the show.  Images of a mermaid tattoo
flashed through his mind and brought a smile to his lips. Man, that redhead
could dance. She’d had him stretched so thin it was a miracle he hadn’t snapped
in two. Like her thong.

His body
tightened at the memory of how incredible she’d felt wrapped around him after
he’d entered her dressing room, then subsequently…her. Later on that night,
he’d found one of her decorative seashells lodged in the waistband of his
jeans. The shell now resided in the top drawer of his desk, a little memento of
how incredible sex could be without involving the heart. Still, every so often,
he wondered what’d happened to the French dancer.

His gaze drifted
to an equally perplexing female.

Brielle.

Her brown eyes
pulled him in and played havoc with his pulse while her sexy laughter tickled
his ears and sent a hot spike to his groin. Christ. How could he have such a
similar reaction to a woman the complete opposite of the warm dancer? Brielle
was sassy, with dark eyes, mid-length brown hair, and not quite as thin. No. She
had lush curves that made his mouth water and hands itch to touch and explore…

He sucked in a
breath and purged the dangerous thoughts. What the hell was wrong with him? The
woman could possibly be demented enough to threaten his brother. And he was
lusting after her. What an idiot. Just because she showed up now didn’t leave
her off the hook. Even though Franco said he’d checked her out and had reassured
him she’d come out clean, Jack wasn’t convinced. No one was above suspicion in
his book. If she was crazy, she could’ve found a way to sneak onto the set
unnoticed and leave the threats. No, Ms. Bennett was very suspicious. Something
wasn’t right about the Sacramento beauty and he intended to find out just what the
hell that
something
was and deal with it.

Instinct warned
him Brielle was no clinging vine, either. Hell no. She was much more dangerous.
Like old dynamite wrapped around a hidden claymore, both ready to explode with
the slightest touch. His groin tightened at the thought, but he pushed his
desire down, determined to keep his brother’s welfare uppermost in his mind.
This was the most important mission of Jack’s life. Personal. Family. If ever
he needed his wits about him, it was now.

Matthew was his
principal
—the
person he was guarding—not some stranger or paying client. His little brother,
for Christ’s sake. He’d tried to talk the idiot into leaving the show. Why
Matthew couldn’t see the extreme danger
Meet Your Mate
threw him into
was beyond Jack.

High risk.

High profile.

Highly stupid.

His brother was
only antagonizing this stalker. But lately, especially lately, Matthew insisted
the risk was worth the chance to find his mate.

God, he hoped the
poor sap was right.

Pulling in a
breath, Jack fought to keep the grimace from his lips. Whoever was threatening
his brother with notes to
stop the show
and
get out or else
was
going to go down. Hard.

One of these
women had a secret. His gaze traveled from suspect to pretty suspect. In fact, his
gut was heavy with the knowledge they
all
had something to hide.

His attention settled
on the brown-haired beauty full of fire.

Especially
Brielle.

“T
his is your suite, Miss Bennett.” Bill
ushered Brielle into the room at the top of the nearby bachelorette mansion’s
gleaming, white staircase. “You have my number if you need something. Good
night.”

“Thank y—”

The producer disappeared
before Brielle had the chance to finish. She dropped her suitcase and closed
the door. “Alone at last.”

Considering the
events of the past few hours, she’d held up surprisingly well, and
congratulated herself on getting through the first night.

Coming
face-to-face with Dodger could’ve been a complete disaster, but instead, she’d
managed to remain unrecognized. Now, if only her body understood Jack was a
suspect and not to be trusted, life would be good. She sighed.
Pigs will fly
to the frozen
south before
that
happens
. Those damn
good parts of hers were still tingling.

Well, at least
her job got a little easier tonight with Matthew’s elimination of another
contestant. Uncle Franco would keep an eye on Stacy, who—much to the
long-legged brunette’s dismay—had been cut along with the two actresses. That
left Brielle with only three women to investigate. Danni, Carla and Mandy.

Before she and
the remaining hopefuls could finish their celebratory flutes of champagne, they’d
bid the Anderson brothers good-bye and the producer had them carted off to their
mansion for the night. On the short drive over, she recalled information from
the file about the bachelorette pad. Her temporary home was a huge, two-story,
twenty-room house, complete with pool, sauna and hot tub. Not small, but
nowhere near the investigation stumper they’d just vacated.

Unfortunately,
Uncle Franco had explained not all the rooms were under camera. None of the
contestants’ rooms or bathrooms housed a device. Good for her privacy, bad for
the case. Too bad. A camera might’ve caught the culprit writing the notes.

She eyed her
posh room. Luxurious cherry furniture, queen-size, four-poster bed, sitting
area with fireplace, private balcony, and full bath with a sunken tub and
walk-in shower. Who were they expecting
—t
he queen?

With no time to
waste, Brielle started to unpack. After that, a little exploration was in
order. She hoped to get into one or more of the contestant’s rooms tonight,
provided they kept up the downstairs party she’d declined to join.

Quickly tossing
her nightgown and undergarments in a drawer, she noticed a yellow notepad and
red marker on a desk. The same kind used in the threats. Great. Were they in
every room? Turning her attention back to unpacking, she hung the remainder of
her meager wardrobe in the massive walk-in closet. Her clothes only took up a
speck in what could pass for a small garage. She kicked off her heels and
whistled. Damn. She could park her car in there with room to spare.

Shaking her
head, she rushed back to the bed and unpacked her laptop and cell phone,
contemplating where to stash them. The contestants weren’t allowed any contact
with the outside world. That meant no laptops or phones of any kind. Bill knew
she had both, but warned her to hide them.

Her gaze settled
on a vent near the ceiling. That would do. She pushed a chair against the wall,
climbed on and used her Swiss army knife to unscrew the vent. Dust met her hand
as she felt around and decided the space was big enough. After placing the
turned-off devices inside, she secured the cover and stepped down.

Finally, it was
time to explore. Rubbing her palms together, she headed to the hall. This part
of an investigation always intrigued Brielle. Energy warmed her blood as the
challenge of finding a clue everyone else had missed rushed through her body. A
quick check on the others and she’d get started.

Gripping the
railing, she stared down into the opened living room and noted her three
housemates lounging with wine coolers in their hands. Danni was the first to
spot her; she set her cooler down, then stood.

“There you are.”
The teacher smiled. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine,
thank you.” And it would be even better if they forgot about her and carried
on.

“Wow, Brielle.
You’re done already? It took me two hours to unpack when I arrived,” Mandy said,
placing her bottle on the table next to Danni’s.

Carla snorted. “That’s
because you brought three trunks.”

“Well, that
would explain it. I only had one suitcase.” Brielle smiled, and deciding she’d
better play nice, headed for the steps, not wanting to raise any suspicions.

“Don’t bother
coming down for our sakes. It’s been a long day and we’re beat.” Carla set her
empty bottle on the coffee table with a thunk before she joined the duo already
walking toward the stairs.

“So soon?” She didn’t
have to feign surprise; she hadn’t expected them to turn in this early.
Disappointed that searching their rooms would have to wait until the next day,
she switched gears. Again. The rest of the house was now ripe for the picking.
“Well, I’m going to give myself a tour and get acclimated.”

The girls nodded
as they passed. “Okay, goodnight,” they echoed and disappeared into their
rooms.

Three
frustrating hours later, having found nothing to help the case, Brielle
returned to her room and locked the door.

What a complete
waste of time. Her sigh hissed into the quiet space. The only thing she’d
discovered was Jack had done a great job creating a safe environment. He’d
flooded the house with the latest high-tech security devices. It would be hard
for the culprit to move about without leaving clues.