Chapter Five

Vanessa was beyond irate. She wasn’t sure how to describe what she felt. Nuclear anger? Volcanic fury? Homicidal rage?

Black widow spiders had it right. Have sex with your mate and then eat him. Problem solved.

She jammed another bra into her duffle.

Damn him. Married! All those pretty words he’d be spouting since she’d been there. How beautiful she was. How much he missed her. How much he wanted her. How could he have done that?

Now that she thought about—she crammed a pair of jeans in next to the bra—he hadn’t said a thing about love. Everything was need, want, or desire.

He hadn’t changed a lick. He was the center of his world. Everyone around him was supposed to supply what he needed or wanted. Who gave a shit what they needed.

And why was she packing? Hank asked her to stay a couple of more days and she’d agreed. He promised he’d have someone else free to take her place by then.

She pulled out her jeans and folded them into a neat pile. In the next instance, she threw them across the room. “Fuck him,” she screamed at the walls.

Fine. Fine. She’d stay, but only for forty-eight hours and her ex-husband had better stay a minimum of ten feet away. Otherwise, she wasn’t responsible for her actions.

She whirled around and sat on her bed. How did she end up in this situation? She’d been so smart about guys since the divorce. Her heart had been totally intact until now. No one had gotten through her perimeter. She dropped her head into her hands and stared at the floor.

“Don’t cry,” Craig said from the doorway.

She jerked up her head and glared. “I’m not crying, you asshole. I’m thinking of all the ways to dismember you. I’m starting with your cock since that seems to be where your brain is.”

He gave her a nervous chuckle and leaned against the doorframe. “This wasn’t how I was going to tell you this.”

“Yeah?” she interrupted. “You could be wearing a wedding ring for one thing. And for another, you had plenty of time of ooze charm all over me. Maybe you should have coughed off that little piece of information too.” She broke the stare and looked away. She swallowed against the rock in the throat. “How long have you been married? Do I know her?”

“I’ve been married since I was twenty-one. Our twenty-year anniversary is in November and yes, you know her.”

His words confused her. They’d been married at twenty-one in November but….

“I don’t understand.” Her brain was in a whirl, along with her stomach. She frowned. “We’re divorced. We got divorced ten years ago.”

He straightened off the doorframe and rubbed his neck. “See, um, I kind of didn’t sign those papers?”

An electrical shock stunned her. “What? How could you not sign them? And why didn’t my lawyer tell me?”

He sighed. “It’s a tad complicated and maybe long to explain.”

She scooted up on her bed until her back rested on the headboard. “I’m comfortable, so go.”

He blew out a long breath. “You were overseas. Your lawyer was in Florida. My lawyer was in New York.”

She fought to keep her voice calm, as opposed to screaming, which is what she really wanted to do. “So far, I’m following. I knew all that.”

“For some reason, you used a lawyer in solo practice. He had a heart attack after sending the divorce papers to you to sign. Sadly he died. From what my lawyer told me, the office files were in disarray. Papers out into wrong files. A computer that had to be ten years old with every program out of date. He had no will, and no plan of succession should he die.”

She bent her knees and pulled her legs up to her chest. “But, but…he was young, like thirty-five or something. How could he had a heart attack?”

“It happens. I’m sure he didn’t think he would die so young either.” He flipped his hand in air. “All that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that your case was one of the ones that fell through the cracks.”

“I signed our divorce papers,” she declared. “I know I did. Signed and mailed back.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I told my lawyer we’d called off the divorce, which was fine with him as he got paid one way or the other.”

“How could you do that to me? What the hell were you thinking?” She shut her eyes and rubbed them. “What if I had fallen in love with someone else and got married? I’d be a bigamist.”

He walked over to the bed and looked at her. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.” He held up one finger. “First, you love me. Always have. Always will.” He held up a second finger. “Second, you would have had to produce your divorce papers to get a marriage license. The whole story would have come out then.” He leaned over her. “And third, you love me.”

“I am so, so mad right now.” She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. She balled up a fist and slugged him, catching his left cheek and chin with a full hit.

“Ouch.” He rubbed the area she hit.

“How dare you make that decision for me? I asked for the divorce because I wanted a divorce. You don’t have the right to decide, ‘Nope. Not doing it. She won’t mind.’” She pointed toward the door. “Get out. Go anywhere, but near me.”

When he opened his mouth, she added, “And don’t take one step out of this house. Hank is sending my replacement in a couple days. Until then, don’t talk to me except when necessary. Don’t touch me. In fact, don’t even look at me.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He backed toward the door. “You need some time to process all this.”

“Get out!” she shouted. She jumped from the bed and raced toward him. She shoved him backwards into the hall and slammed the door. “And stay out!” she shouted through the wood.

Falling face first on the bed, she screamed into her pillow clever things like, “Dirty, rotten bastard,” and “Fucking asshole.”

And then the worst thing in the world happened. She cried.

Damnit.

Marines don’t cry.

Ever!

 

Craig faced Vanessa’s door, his hands flat on the wood, his forehead resting between his hands. Should he apologize again? Maybe order some flowers to be delivered?

Probably not flowers. He’d end up either wearing them or being force-fed them.

He spun on his heel and went downstairs. This disaster was his brother’s fault. He could help him figure out what to do.

Mike answered on the second right. “Yel-low?” he said through the phone’s speaker. His voice shot into quiet void of the living room.

“I hate you,” Craig growled.

“Ah. She found out, huh? Good. This non-divorce has gone on long enough. Too long, actually. She deserved to know the truth.”

“Even if you’re right, it was my business what and when to tell her.”

“And you’re my little brother who’s not getting any younger. You don’t want to end up old and alone.”

“I wouldn’t have,” he insisted. He walked over to the window to look over the front yard. “She would have come back.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Did you know, did you even think, that she has a boyfriend in Montana? What if she’s in love with him? What then? What if she’s planned the rest of her life with him? This farce needed to end, little brother.”

Craig dropped onto the couch and set the phone on the arm. Vanessa was with someone else? Sweltering heat overwhelmed him and he fought the accompanying nausea. “She has a boyfriend?” he asked into the phone’s speaker.

His brother chuckled. “Well, at your age, boyfriend seems a tad juvenile. But Nessie does see a man there on a regular basis.”

“Who?”

“Another protector at the same company. Name’s Dillion something. Collins, maybe? Covey? Something like that. All I know is what Hank Patterson told me while we were waiting to speak with Vanessa.”

His hands fisted. His knees bounced with nervous energy. “How old is he? What does he look like? Was he in the Marines too?”

“I don’t know. I swear. That isn’t even the point. The point is that she moved on with her life, and now you’ve jerked her to a halt. How mad is she?”

“On a scale from one to ten? About a fifteen. She’s in her room upstairs.”

Mike Devlin was quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry she’s upset, but the job is to keep you safe. If she can’t do that, and being locked in her room suggests she can’t, then Hank will have to get a replacement there ASAP.”

“I can do my job,” Vanessa said from the hallway. “You don’t have to worry, Mike.”

“Nessie,” Mike said. “I’m sorry. My brother has made some bonehead decisions in his life, but this one may be his crowning glory.”

“Thanks for being in my corner,” she said toward the cell phone. To Craig, she said, “I’m starting dinner. I’m not asking what you want. You’ll eat what I fix.” With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

“I suggest humble pie,” Mike said with a chuckled. “With a large scoop of apologetic ice cream.”

“Sounds delicious. Talk to you later.”

“Good luck, bro.”

After shoving his phone back into his front pocket, he headed to the kitchen. No time like the present to prepare his pie.

“Need some help?” he asked.

“Wash the lettuce and chop up the tomatoes, carrots and peppers for the salad.”

No please. No will you please. That’s fine. He deserved anything she dished out.

“So—”

“Don’t talk to me,” she snapped.

He got the lettuce and began the washing, all the while watching her as she pounded chicken breasts flat.

“You pretending those chicken breasts are my head?” he asked in a joking voice.

“Your balls.”

The body parts in question pulled up tight for protection. He winced.

Once the lettuce was washed, dried and torn into pieces, he went in search of a cutting board.

“In the cabinet below me,” Vanessa said.

“How did you know what I was looking for?”

She shrugged. “You looked lost.”

He began the work on the tomatoes, his curiosity about Dillion Whatever picking at his brain.

“So, you’re dating someone.” He leaned against the counter to watch her work.

“That’s right. Dillion Covey.” She slammed the mallet on a piece of meat.

“He an ex-Marine also?”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine. Oorah!”

“It’s a simple question, Nessie.”

“No, he was a Navy Seal.”

Of course he was.

“How old is he?”

“Forty-three.”

“What does he do at Brotherhood Protectors?”

She banged down the mallet and turned around. “Do I look like your teenage daughter? You don’t have the right to ask me anything about who I see.”

He jammed the point of the knife into the thick butcher-block board. “I’m your husband. I think maybe being married to you does give me the right to ask about the man my wife is dating.”

Her mouth tightened into a straight line as her eyes shot death rays. She whirled back around and opened a jar of cherry spread.

“I didn’t know I had a husband, or else I might have been a little reluctant to accept dates with other men.”

Neither of them said anything. The only sounds were of the knife hitting the cutting board and the crinkle of paper as Vanessa loaded the breasts with slices of provolone cheese.

“Are you in love with him?” His heart pounded on his chest. His stomach fell to his knees as he awaited her response.

She stilled. “I don’t know. We haven’t been seeing each other very long.”

He nodded, but she didn’t see the action. The next question had to be asked, and he prepared his heart for the stab.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

She began rolling the chicken breast, securing the inside ingredients. She plunged a toothpick into the meat to hold the rollup intact. Then she started on the second breast.

Craig held his breath waiting for her answer. Her chest heaved in breath after breath but that was the only move she made. He braced himself for the blow.

Finally she blew out a long breath and began rolling the third chicken breast. She sighed again and her hands stopped moving. “We haven’t slept together yet. I planned to when I got back from this assignment.” Her hands began the rolling again. “You’ve kind of put a kink in my plans, however.”

He struggled to fight the smile that wanted to break out.

“I’ll not ask if you’ve had lovers in these past ten years. I’ll assume you were careful if you did.”

She whirled around, her eyes flashing fire. “You don’t have the right to ask me anything about my love life. But your lovers? You have no excuse. You knew you were married. I didn’t.”

He held up his right hand and waves it. “Meet my lover. My only lover since the day you left.”

Her stare unnerved him, but he refused to let her intimidate him.

“You’re telling me that no woman has touched you in ten years?”

“Not until last night. I meant every word of our wedding vows, Nessie. I will love you until the day I die. It’s that simple. I wanted no other woman but you.”

She turned her back toward him. “You should have thought of those vows before you told me that I wasn’t…” She looked over her shoulder. “And I quote, smart enough, unquote.”

He cringed and held out his hands palms up. “I know. I know.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I was horrible and I am so sorry. And stupid,” he added. “So, what now? I don’t want a divorce, Nessie. Never did. Never will.”

“Why the alimony deposits if we aren’t divorced? You weren’t required by law to pay them.”

He left one shoulder in a shrug. “Simple. You are my wife. You should have a fair share of my assets.”

She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the counter. “I need to think about all this.”

“I know.”

“I need to talk to Dillion.”

That made his heart ache.

“I understand. Can we have a truce until this whole stalking thing is over and we can talk without the stress of April Young hanging over our heads?”

She nodded.

They both went back to work on their part of dinner.

The meal was quiet. Lots of fork tines on china noises. Polite requests to pass the salt or pepper. But there was no conversation.

After dinner, Craig offered to clean up the kitchen if she wanted to take a shower.

She accepted and left.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs until he heard the water come on. Then, he pulled Hank Patterson’s card from his pocket and dialed.

“Patterson,” he growled into the phone.

“Craig Devlin.”

“Mr. Devlin. What can I do for you?”

“You knew about Nessie and my non-divorce. Right?”

“Your brother told me when he hired us. I was concerned about Vanessa taking this job but he was persuasive.”

“He is. Have you told Dillion Covey?”

Even saying the name of the man his wife might be in love with shot pain through him.

Hank was so long in replying Craig thought for a minute he’d lost the connection.

“I have not,” Hank said. “It’s not my place to get involved in my employee’s personal lives. All I ask is that they do their jobs.”

“So he doesn’t know.”

“I don’t know that. What I know is I haven’t said anything to him. It’s Vanessa’s business to tell him what she wants him to know.”

His fingers tightened on the phone. “I want his phone number.”

Patterson chuckled. “And I’d like to be president. Neither of these things are going to happen, Mr. Devlin. Before you fire up your computer, be aware that Dillion is a very private person. You will not find his phone number or his address regardless of the search criteria you use. In fact, you probably won’t find him at all.”

Craig scoffed. “That’s impossible. Everyone has a footprint on the net.”

“Good night, Mr. Devlin.”

The line went dead. Patterson hung up on him. He started to call back, but their conversation was done.

Instead, he fired up his computer and did a search for Dillion Covey. As he’d been told, he found nothing on a Dillion or D Covey anywhere in Montana.

He heard Vanessa’s door open. He closed the computer and hustled back to the kitchen. A promise was a promise.

The rest of the evening was quiet. He tried to work, but the words would not come. Vanessa read a book and watched a couple of television dramas. All very domestic and uneventful. At one point he thought he heard a noise outside, but when the sound didn’t repeat, he attributed it to squirrels and went back to work, not that he was making much progress.

About ten, Vanessa stretched her arms over her head. “You staying up?”

“You tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He wanted to smile at the memory of last night, but decided it would be best if he kept his thoughts to himself. “I’m ready to call it a night if you are.”

She nodded and stood. Then she stopped and pulled her gun.

His heart skipped a beat. His gaze locked on her weapon. “What’s wrong?”

She held one finger to her lips. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Something feels off. When I was in the sandbox, the guys teased me about my spidey-sense. Everything could look fine, but I knew something was about to happen. That’s how I feel right now. Go to your bedroom,” she ordered. “Lock the door.”

“The hell I will.” He stepped up beside her. “You’re not roaming around by yourself.” He pulled his .38 from his pocket.

She blew out a sigh and a whispered, “Goddamnit, Craig.”

“Don’t care. You need someone to protect your six.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stay behind me at all times. Try not to make any noise,” she whispered. “And whatever you do, don’t shoot me. “I’ve just come from upstairs and anyone would have had to pass us to get to the stairs, so we’ll clear this floor and head to the basement.”

He nodded.

“Hug the wall as we move.”

He followed her directions, sliding silently along the wall. He backed her up as she opened each door and rushed in.

“First floor clear,” she said in the kitchen. “I hate basements,” she confessed. “Seems like all the bad stuff happens there.”

“We watched too many horror movies growing up.”

“Tell me. I can’t see a hockey mask without wanting to pull a gun.” She pulled a flashlight with a strong beam from atop the refrigerator. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The basement door let out a loud squeak as she opened it.

“Of course, it squeaks,” she whispered with tight lips. “Stay behind me. Keep your gun close to your body. And for God’s sake, don’t shoot me.”

They started down the stairs. No matter how carefully they stepped, the old wooden steps groaned in protest. Once at the bottom, Vanessa swept the large room with her flashlight, then she found the light switch and flipped on the fluorescents.

The space was one large room that appeared to be used solely for storage. Empty crates and boxes littered the floor. A few of the crates had been stacked six high. In front of one stack of five, a splintered box lay on the floor.

Vanessa crouched. “This is recent,” she said. “See how fresh the breaks in the wood are?”

He lowered himself beside the broken wood. “Think someone did that on purpose?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, no. For what point and why this box?” She gestured to the other stacks of boxes. “This stack was probably unstable and all our walking around may have sent vibrations that dislodged it.” She holstered her gun. “I think this was the source of our noise.” She stretched again and yawned. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

From his perspective, she was much too casual. He’d heard something and now there was a broken box in the basement. Surely that meant something. But she was so calm and cool about the pieces of wood scattered on the concrete. Sure, she’d been to war and shot guns and cleared houses and done all sorts of things he’d never do. But something about her nonchalance didn’t ring true. But he let her take the lead.

“Sounds good. I could use a nice, long sleep.” He didn’t put his gun back into his pocket. He kept it in his hand, the muzzle pointed toward the floor. Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly as cool as his wife. His hand shook with nervous tension. With each shake, he banged the gun’s muzzle against his thigh.

Back in the kitchen, she put her finger to her lips and motioned for him to follow her. At the same time, she said in a rather loud voice, “I’m so tired. You’re quite the lover, my dear. I lost track of how many times I came last night.” She giggled.

His eyes opened wide at the sweet, innocent laugh. Nessie didn’t giggle.

In the dining room, she sat at his computer. His book file was open, so she hit return a couple of times until she had a clean spot. Then she typed…

Someone was down there.

I could hear the breathing.

Go to the bedroom and call Sheriff Gruber. He can alert his men in the area.

Turn off all the lights. I’ll go up with you and then come back down. I’ll wait here between you and the basement.

Stay upstairs.

If what I heard was April, she somehow got into the basement.

We don’t want to take this on by ourselves. We need backup. We don’t know what she’s got planned.

Now go.

Craig opened his mouth to argue but closed it when Vanessa drew a line across her throat. He needed to tell her how sorry he was he’d drawn her into this mess. He wanted to tell her he wanted to protect her. He wanted to tell her he loved her. Vanessa drew a second line across her throat and opened her eyes wide. She lifted her chin toward the ceiling and mouthed, “Go.”

“You want to turn off that light in kitchen, honey?” Craig said. “I’ll get the lights in here and we can head up.”

Vanessa giggled again.

He rolled his eyes with a shake of his head.

“Okay, but I have to get some sleep tonight.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said.

She laughed and ran up the stairs noisily with Craig right behind. Sounded like a couple of elephants charging.

Upstairs, Vanessa’s demeanor changed. She pointed to his bedroom, a direct charge to get in there and make a call before slipping down the stairs, gun extended.

He nodded.

Inside his bedroom, he phoned the sheriff and for good measure, he left a message on Agent Freeman’s cell. When his calls were done, he felt useless. He should be downstairs with Vanessa.

But most of him knew that, in reality, he had no idea what to do. He felt so impotent. Sure, he wrote gritty suspense and thrillers and he’d interviewed many law professionals to make his books read true, but he was a civilian. He pulled out his gun with a slightly shaky hand. A civilian with a gun. He might just as likely shoot Vanessa or himself as the bad guy.

Lights off, he paced around the room. He knew better than look out the window. If April was in the house, she believed he was in bed. If April got past Vanessa and found him in this bedroom, he had to be in character.

He pulled back the bed covers and, still fully dressed, climbed underneath. He arranged a couple of pillows to look as though Vanessa was beside him.

And then he waited.

 

Vanessa tip-toed down the stairs to the first floor, her weapon drawn and ready to fire. She’d already noted all the places the steps would creak and made a concerted effort to avoid each area. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the hallway floor. Moving quickly along the wall, she took up position between the kitchen, where the basement door was located, and the stairwell, giving herself a good view of both.

And then she waited.