The Phoenix (14 page)

“In the event that we don’t apprehend them before the first set of numbers arrives, we’ll simply have to text back,” Jay said.

“We can’t if they block the number,” Charlie pointed out.

“Surely you can find your way around that.” There was admiration in his tone.

Aggie watched a smile bloom over Charlie’s lips, observed Jay’s sudden preoccupation with her mouth, then saw Charlie’s cheeks pinken in response.

Well, well, well.
It was entirely possible the two of them were going to do more than learn to work together. Imagine that. Her, an inadvertent matchmaker. How lovely.

Charlie tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turned to look at Aggie. “It’s my sincere hope that you don’t have to pay the ransom, Ms. Aggie, and with that in mind, I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Was there any particular reason that Burt didn’t receive a gift from Goldie upon her death? He told me that he’d worked for the estate for twenty years. You mentioned that other faithful employees had been generously rewarded for their service and I just wondered…” She trailed off.

Aggie smiled. “You want to know why Goldie didn’t leave Burt any money?”

Charlie shrugged helplessly. “Well…yes, actually.”

“If you’ve talked to Burt, then you know the answer to that already. Goldie knew that if she left Burt money he’d funnel it all into that UFO club of his. Instead, she bought Burt a house and gave it to him with the stipulation that it can never be mortgaged except in the event of extenuating circumstances. Illness and the like,” she told them. “Burt cashed out his retirement the year before Goldie died and made a documentary about people who had been ‘probed’ by aliens.” She gave a delicate shudder. “Blew the whole thing on fancy cameras and editing equipment and spent thousands of dollars traveling across the country to interview other probees. Years of savings gone in a matter of months.” She winced. “Goldie was heartbroken. She didn’t want him to end up with nowhere to live, so making sure he had a home was her first priority.”

Charlie inclined her head knowingly. “Ah.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “He neglected to mention that part.”

“He doesn’t think about it,” Aggie told her. “He mans the gate, chats with other UFO enthusiasts online and plays Scrabble. He’s…different,” she added, trying to find a word that would adequately describe the odd gatekeeper. “But harmless.”

“Would you like some tea, ma’am?” Jasmine asked from the doorway.

“Yes, please, Jasmine,” Aggie told her. “That would be lovely.”

“How long has she worked for you?” Jay wanted to know, shooting a speculative look after the cook.

“About ten months,” Aggie told him. “I have trouble keeping a cook.” She laughed softly. “Evidently I don’t eat enough to justify having one, but—” she shrugged “—it’s a treat for me. Years of putting dinner on the table for other people, worrying over what everyone liked, should I have made something different—that will do it to you.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Charlie said, smiling at her. “I’d love to have a cook.”

Seemingly surprised, Jay looked over at her. “You can’t cook?”

“Of course I can,” she said with an exasperated eye roll. “I just don’t like cooking for one. It doesn’t taste as good.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

She glared up at him. “Can you cook?”

“I can grill,” he said. “And microwave.”

She gave her head a small shake. “Why are we talking about this?”

That’s what Aggie would have liked to know. But it was vastly entertaining. If she weren’t so concerned about the safe return of her pet she’d be delighted for them to continue. As it was, she needed them to focus.

“Do either of you have any more questions for me?” she asked kindly.

Their startled expressions swiveled toward her as though they’d both forgotten she was there.

“I found a fishing bobber on the other side of the fence,” Jay remarked. “It’s probably nothing, but I wondered if there were any ponds nearby.”

Aggie frowned, pondering the question, then shook her head. “The Whitmoors have an elaborate goldfish pond, but that’s purely decorative.”

He pulled a face. “I thought as much, but still wanted to ask.”

“Does Truffles like peanut butter?” Charlie wanted to know.

Aggie grinned, her heart aching for her pet. “She
adores
it. She’s got a toy that I fill with peanut butter and freeze. She’ll spend hours licking the peanut butter out of it.”

Jay and Charlie shared a look.

“What?” Aggie asked, trepidation tightening her belly.

“We think Truffles was baited,” Charlie said. “I found a smear of peanut butter on the back wall.”

Aggie felt a frown knit her brow. “Baited? But how did they get her out of the yard?”

Jay shrugged and exhaled a long breath. “That’s the million-dollar question. But when we find the answer we’ll have our culprit.”

“Speaking of which,” Charlie said significantly. “I’d better get started.”

So she was back to
I,
was she? Aggie noted, mildly disappointed. “If you’ll make a list of that computer equipment you need, I’ll send Smokey out to get it for you.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said gratefully. “That would be a big help.”

Aggie nodded. “Consider it done.”

She watched Jay go in one direction and Charlie go in another. Sadly, it reminded her of another man and woman who couldn’t seem to get on the same path.

And she was tired of walking alone.

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN HELPFUL to know that Burt had been working at the Betterworth estate for the past twenty years and hadn’t been given any cash as the other employees had, Jay thought, irrationally irritated that a) Charlie hadn’t told him about it, b) that he’d asked her last night and had gotten so damned distracted from his line of questioning by that incendiary kiss that he’d completely forgotten to press the issue and c) that he had neglected to ask the right question in the first place.

Ultimately, it was no one’s fault but his own, but knowing that didn’t make him feel any better. Had she kissed him because she hadn’t wanted to answer his questions? Because she’d needed to distract him and she’d used his own desire against him? Hadn’t that been
his
original plan?

How galling.

Even more degrading? He’d do it all over again…and fully intended to. That kiss… His gut constricted with remembered desire, his groin tightened and a low breath leaked out of his lungs. While Jay had never been what one would call a player, he’d nevertheless spent a good bit of time honing his skills in the bedroom. He knew when to kiss, when to suck, when to caress, when to nuzzle and when to take things to the next level.

Because he was competitive, he wanted to be the best, so he’d also made it a point to be a selfless lover. A slow smile slid over his lips. Meaning he wouldn’t
scream
until she did.

And right now, he wanted nothing more than to make her scream until she couldn’t breathe, until she was hoarse from the effort, until the same little claws that had torn into his chest when they’d rolled around on the floor last night were scoring his back.

He wanted her with a ferocity that was unparalleled, unmatched and wholly unexpected. When his mouth had touched hers, the rest of the world had simply retreated out of existence. The feel of those unbelievably carnal lips beneath his—the ripe taste of her—had simply undone him.

Jay wasn’t used to coming undone. In fact, he was typically the one doing the undoing, so even admitting that she’d affected him as thoroughly as she had instilled a tiny drop of panic into his chest.

There was something different about her, he realized. Something beautiful and sweet, strong, witty and endearing. When he looked at her, he felt as if his feet were flying out from under him. His lips twitched. Much like last night when she’d literally cut him off at the knees and sent him sprawling onto the carpet. That took some serious skill, and when he considered that she’d done it—his petite little warrior—he was unreasonably proud of her.

How ignorant was that?

Evidently she’d knocked him senseless when she’d felled him, Jay thought.

And the idea that she’d played him, that she might not be as intrigued and lit up as he was…

Jay growled under his breath and made himself focus on the task at hand. Irritatingly, he’d gotten a summons this morning to Andrew Betterworth’s townhouse on the French Broad River and was reluctantly making his way there now. Honestly, it felt like a monumental waste of time. He’d been regularly emailing Andrew with updates, but coming over here was stupid and drew him away from time better spent in pursuit of the dognappers.

That was what Charlie was doing, he thought, annoyed all over again. Who knew what sort of clues she was going to find while he wasn’t watching her? What sort of advantage she’d garner?

He located the right house number, noting the fancy sports car in the driveway. It was red with black racing stripes and the vanity plate read Eat It.

Nice.

He hadn’t met Andrew yet and already hated him. Determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, Jay made his way to the door and knocked.

A curvy blonde with a black eye answered the door. She kept her head turned to limit his view and pulled a hank of hair over the offending bruise.

Jay’s blood boiled and he felt his fingers tighten.

“Is that him?” an obnoxious male voice shouted from somewhere deep in the house. “Bitch, I’m talking to you! Is that him?”

The woman flinched and shot him an apologetic look. Upon closer inspection she couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that. “Are you Jay Weatherford?”

“I am.”

“It is,” she called over her shoulder.

“Then let the man in the door, dumbass,” he sneered. “And get us something to drink.”

By the time Jay had crossed the threshold he was ready to pummel the hell out of his so-called employer. Though he knew he’d been this mad before, he didn’t think he’d ever felt so dangerous, so on the verge of making a critical tactical error.

The house looked as though it had been decorated by a pimp who only recognized animal prints. Jay had never seen so much zebra in his life. Dozens of candles littered the room, all of them burning with different scents, and a fire blazed on the hearth.

“Ah,” Andrew Betterworth drawled as Jay came into view, tearing his gaze away from the flames. “My own personal badass. You’re late.”

If Andrew seriously thought he was going to be able to intimidate him, he had another think coming. Jay nonchalantly checked his watch. “No, I’m not. I’m two minutes early. And this is a waste of my time.”

Evidently unaccustomed to anyone daring to defy him, Andrew looked him over and smirked. “Since I’m the one paying for it, it’s my place to say what is or what isn’t a waste of your time, isn’t it?”

“You’re paying me to do a job and preventing me from doing it. That’s stupid,” Jay said baldly. He pulled a lazy shrug and dropped into a chair without being asked. “But when you’re dumb you’ve got to be tough. And in your case, poor to boot. I’m here. What did you want?”

“A more respectful attitude would be a good start.”

“I don’t respect bullies,” Jay said through clenched teeth as the young blonde came back into the room. “And my respect isn’t for sale.”

Her legs were bruised as well, he noted, particularly the insides of her thighs. Bile rose in his throat.
Jesus.
She set a tray of drinks on the coffee table, but Andrew snagged her arm before she could go and dragged her down into his lap. “Stay,” he said, as though commanding a dog.

She looked terrified, mortified and utterly cowed.

“I’d like a status update on the case,” Andrew said, leveling a look at Jay while he casually—sickeningly—stroked the girl’s arm.

“I emailed that to you this morning. The ransom instructions arrived earlier.” Much as he hated to do it, he explained the terms.