“I kind of don’t work there anymore.”
I gape at her. “What? Since when?”
But even as I ask the question, I know the answer—since she pushed the camera away from me and denied her network my story.
“Oh, James. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” she says firmly. “Assholes. Who trades on shit like that?”
“But—well, what are you doing now?”
“I’m a woman of leisure,” she says. “Fortunately, your husband pays my husband very well.” She holds her hands up in front of her face as she examines her nails. “I’m thinking about pursuing a career as a lady who lunches.”
Her voice is light, but I know her too well.
“You’ll find another gig,” I say gently. Of course, what I mean is thank you.
“Yeah, well, nobody fucks with my friends.”
I’m about to swallow her in a body-slamming hug when I hear the beep of the front door’s keypad. I trade a glance with Jamie, and we both race that direction.
Moments later, I’m on the stairs, watching as Damien comes in, followed by Ryan, Charles, and Evelyn. I fly the rest of the way down and into Damien’s arms. “What the hell happened? Where were you?”
“Tanner Gates,” Evelyn says, moving farther into the sitting area. “The little prick.”
I whip around to face Damien. “What the hell? You promised you wouldn’t fly off the handle.”
But Damien just pulls my phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, then passes it to me.
I have a vague memory of a text coming in last night, and I cringe with trepidation as I open the app.
Are you humble now that you’ve lost it all?
I try to draw in a breath, then realize I’ve covered my mouth and nose with my free hand. “So it really was Tanner,” I say. Then I frown, confused. “But if he was sending the messages, why was Damien arrested?”
Damien’s mouth curves into a wry grin. “That might have something to do with the fact that I broke his nose.”
Jamie takes the phone gently from my hand, reads the message, then curses. “Okay, you guys,” she says as she goes to Ryan’s side. “What exactly happened?”
“I read the text last night,” Damien begins. “I was sure it was Tanner sending those damn texts. He has access to your mobile number. The messages started when you interviewed with Greystone-Branch, then escalated when you got the contract, and he didn’t. He knows damn well the job is time sensitive, and with—” His voice cracks. “And with what’s happened, I’m sure he’s certain you’ll pull out.”
I shake my head. “But the email with the pictures of you and Sofia. How would he have even gotten that?”
“Social media,” Jamie says. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t see some there before they hit your inbox.”
I make a face. “Because I spend so much time on social media?”
“That’s why I thought he sent it to you,” Damien continues. “To make sure you saw it. To twist the knife just a bit more.” He rubs his temples. “As far as I was concerned, every goddamn piece fit.”
“Go on.”
“I went to his apartment,” Damien says simply. “And we had a little chat.”
“You punched him in the face?”
“Actually, I slammed him against the doorframe,” Damien says. “But the result was the same. And then the bastard called the cops.”
“Jesus, Damien, you—” But I don’t know what to say. That he can’t fly off the handle like that? That I can’t survive if he’s tossed in jail because some judge wants to make an example of him?
Except . . .
“Wait,” I say, still confused. “You were arrested for punching him, but surely they’d be lenient because he was harassing me. Right?”
“Where was the proof?” Charles asks. “Damien went over there on an assumption. And I was all set to bail Damien out when Tanner stepped up and refused to file a complaint.” He glances toward Ryan. “Thank him if you want to know why.”
“Why?” Jamie and I demand at exactly the same time.
“Fortunately, our boy Tanner isn’t too bright. While Damien was with the cops, I told the little shit that I’d traced the messages back to a burner phone he’d purchased by using a combination of satellite triangulation and cross-coordinating that with the phone registration number as shown on his electronic credit transaction log.”
Jamie gapes at him. “You can do that?”
“Hell no. But you’re not the only one in the family who can act.” He grins. “Then I told him that if he didn’t back the fuck off, we’d publicly reveal his harassment and use every dime at Damien’s disposal to make sure he never gets a better job than flipping burgers at a gas station grill.”
Jamie claps. “I love it.”
“I got him so worked up, he pulled the phone out from where he was hiding it and turned it over to me. Then he dropped the charges.”
“We won’t have any more problems from Tanner,” Damien says. “And I’m seriously considering giving Ryan a raise.”
“Hell, yeah,” Jamie says.
“Here’s the thing,” Ryan adds. “He swears he didn’t send the email with Sofia’s pictures. And what I’ve seen on his burner backs that up. He gave me access to his computer and his regular phone, too, and there’s no sign of the email or the image.”
“Under the circumstances, it’s doubtful he’d lie about that,” Charles says.
“So that means . . .” I trail off, looking to Damien.
He sighs. “It means we still don’t know who sent those pictures to you.”
Evelyn waves a dismissive hand. “That one went to your email. Could be anyone at all, for no reason other than that they follow you two in the news and have a mean streak.”
“Or some crazed girl who’s never met Damien but thinks that he should have married her,” Jamie adds.
“Or Giselle,” I say, because no matter what Bruce and Damien say, I still don’t trust that woman.
“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But don’t worry about it. It was one email. Let it go, at least for now.”
I gape at her. “What? Since when?”
But even as I ask the question, I know the answer—since she pushed the camera away from me and denied her network my story.
“Oh, James. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” she says firmly. “Assholes. Who trades on shit like that?”
“But—well, what are you doing now?”
“I’m a woman of leisure,” she says. “Fortunately, your husband pays my husband very well.” She holds her hands up in front of her face as she examines her nails. “I’m thinking about pursuing a career as a lady who lunches.”
Her voice is light, but I know her too well.
“You’ll find another gig,” I say gently. Of course, what I mean is thank you.
“Yeah, well, nobody fucks with my friends.”
I’m about to swallow her in a body-slamming hug when I hear the beep of the front door’s keypad. I trade a glance with Jamie, and we both race that direction.
Moments later, I’m on the stairs, watching as Damien comes in, followed by Ryan, Charles, and Evelyn. I fly the rest of the way down and into Damien’s arms. “What the hell happened? Where were you?”
“Tanner Gates,” Evelyn says, moving farther into the sitting area. “The little prick.”
I whip around to face Damien. “What the hell? You promised you wouldn’t fly off the handle.”
But Damien just pulls my phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, then passes it to me.
I have a vague memory of a text coming in last night, and I cringe with trepidation as I open the app.
Are you humble now that you’ve lost it all?
I try to draw in a breath, then realize I’ve covered my mouth and nose with my free hand. “So it really was Tanner,” I say. Then I frown, confused. “But if he was sending the messages, why was Damien arrested?”
Damien’s mouth curves into a wry grin. “That might have something to do with the fact that I broke his nose.”
Jamie takes the phone gently from my hand, reads the message, then curses. “Okay, you guys,” she says as she goes to Ryan’s side. “What exactly happened?”
“I read the text last night,” Damien begins. “I was sure it was Tanner sending those damn texts. He has access to your mobile number. The messages started when you interviewed with Greystone-Branch, then escalated when you got the contract, and he didn’t. He knows damn well the job is time sensitive, and with—” His voice cracks. “And with what’s happened, I’m sure he’s certain you’ll pull out.”
I shake my head. “But the email with the pictures of you and Sofia. How would he have even gotten that?”
“Social media,” Jamie says. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t see some there before they hit your inbox.”
I make a face. “Because I spend so much time on social media?”
“That’s why I thought he sent it to you,” Damien continues. “To make sure you saw it. To twist the knife just a bit more.” He rubs his temples. “As far as I was concerned, every goddamn piece fit.”
“Go on.”
“I went to his apartment,” Damien says simply. “And we had a little chat.”
“You punched him in the face?”
“Actually, I slammed him against the doorframe,” Damien says. “But the result was the same. And then the bastard called the cops.”
“Jesus, Damien, you—” But I don’t know what to say. That he can’t fly off the handle like that? That I can’t survive if he’s tossed in jail because some judge wants to make an example of him?
Except . . .
“Wait,” I say, still confused. “You were arrested for punching him, but surely they’d be lenient because he was harassing me. Right?”
“Where was the proof?” Charles asks. “Damien went over there on an assumption. And I was all set to bail Damien out when Tanner stepped up and refused to file a complaint.” He glances toward Ryan. “Thank him if you want to know why.”
“Why?” Jamie and I demand at exactly the same time.
“Fortunately, our boy Tanner isn’t too bright. While Damien was with the cops, I told the little shit that I’d traced the messages back to a burner phone he’d purchased by using a combination of satellite triangulation and cross-coordinating that with the phone registration number as shown on his electronic credit transaction log.”
Jamie gapes at him. “You can do that?”
“Hell no. But you’re not the only one in the family who can act.” He grins. “Then I told him that if he didn’t back the fuck off, we’d publicly reveal his harassment and use every dime at Damien’s disposal to make sure he never gets a better job than flipping burgers at a gas station grill.”
Jamie claps. “I love it.”
“I got him so worked up, he pulled the phone out from where he was hiding it and turned it over to me. Then he dropped the charges.”
“We won’t have any more problems from Tanner,” Damien says. “And I’m seriously considering giving Ryan a raise.”
“Hell, yeah,” Jamie says.
“Here’s the thing,” Ryan adds. “He swears he didn’t send the email with Sofia’s pictures. And what I’ve seen on his burner backs that up. He gave me access to his computer and his regular phone, too, and there’s no sign of the email or the image.”
“Under the circumstances, it’s doubtful he’d lie about that,” Charles says.
“So that means . . .” I trail off, looking to Damien.
He sighs. “It means we still don’t know who sent those pictures to you.”
Evelyn waves a dismissive hand. “That one went to your email. Could be anyone at all, for no reason other than that they follow you two in the news and have a mean streak.”
“Or some crazed girl who’s never met Damien but thinks that he should have married her,” Jamie adds.
“Or Giselle,” I say, because no matter what Bruce and Damien say, I still don’t trust that woman.
“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But don’t worry about it. It was one email. Let it go, at least for now.”
