Her Wanton Ways [Notorious Nephilim 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (18 page)

Joelle buried her face in her hands. She was so confused. This had been the most horrible day of her life. She couldn’t get their scents or their eyes out of her thoughts. How could she explain this to anyone when she couldn’t even come to terms with it herself?

“And not just in bed. On a pool table, in a pool—an actual swimming pool—outside on the grass…Joelle, you were just a plaything to them. How can you want to help them?”

“You weren’t there. You don’t understand. It wasn’t like that. Peggy, I’ve waited my entire adult life to find men like Blade and Cristian.”

“They’re not men.”

“You know what I mean. Please—you’re my best friend. If you aren’t behind me on this, I have no one else to turn to. I can accept that they don’t want me. But I will not let Scott win. I will not let him do this just to further his own career.”

“You really love them. My God…you really do love them.”

Joelle looked into Peggy’s eyes. “I do. I won’t get over this, Peg. Nothing will ever be the same for me again.”

Peggy sighed and fell back against the bed, placing her hands behind her head the way she did when she was hatching a plan. “Okay, then. Why stop at just telling them they have a snitch? They’ll fire her and that will be that. It won’t stop Scott.”

“Scott is finished. The article in the
Trib
took care of that.”

Peggy gave her a droll look. “You know politics. People will forget this and move on. It might cause a blip in the radar, but it won’t necessarily ruin him.”

“So, what are you suggesting we do?”

Peggy sat up, her eyes shining with the thrill of the hunt. “Bury him. The article said there were other pictures. I think if we look hard enough in this very townhouse, we just might find something.”

“Seriously?”

“Joelle, he’s obviously been carrying on with this woman for a long time. I’m betting she’s married or there’s some other reason why he didn’t just propose to her. Let’s see if we can dig up some dirt that will not only save your angels and their resort, but will stop Scott for good.”

Blade drummed his finger on the tabletop. “It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Betsy took a job here. What else does it say in there?”

Zach sighed heavily. “That’s it, Blade. She’s from Madison, Wisconsin, and she has a degree from Georgetown University. Like I said, I had no time to dig into her past. We needed staff, and we needed them quickly, or we wouldn’t have been able to provide our current standard of service to our guests.”

“She has to know someone who works here, or did work here, or was a guest here. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“That will take time to sort out.”

“What will?” asked Cristian.

Zach chuckled. “Going through records for the past couple of years to see who might have a connection to Barbara ‘Betsy’ Simpson. I suggest you and Blade grab some coffee and come with me.”

“Fuck,” muttered Cristian as he rose from his seat.

“It’s only fair,” said Emmett. “But just to show you I’m not quite as upset with you two as Zach is, I’ll help.”

Emmett clapped Blade on the back as they left the room. As Blade walked with the others to Zach’s office, he wondered if Joelle had made it safely home. He should telephone her, just to make sure. Then again, he didn’t imagine she’d ever want to hear from any of them again. Guilt mixed with pain coursed through him slowly, until the blood in his veins felt like daggers, stabbing him in every inch of his body.

He missed her. Her scent, her touch, her easy laughter, and the way her eyes sparkled like jewels whenever she was happy or aroused. How the hell had he let this happen? Why hadn’t he simply kept his cool and listened to her side of the story? Now she was gone. And nothing for him would ever be the same again.

* * * *

Joelle rose and peered out the blinds. No one was out, and this street never had heavy traffic. Scott was miles away. They had all night to search if need be. “Okay. Where should we start?”

“Well, does he keep his porn in his sock drawer like Mark does?”

Joelle laughed. “Porn? Scott? Peggy, I have never seen porn in this townhouse. If he has any, it’s hidden behind the walls.”

“All right then. How about an office, or a room where you were never allowed?”

“He has an office up here, but I’ve been in it. Nothing but a desk, a filing cabinet, and an old typewriter.”

“Let’s go look anyway, but first I still think we should check his dresser drawers.”

“Do I have to?”

Peggy chuckled. “No, you don’t. I’ll go look. I’m not too proud to dig through a man’s underwear.”

“I’ll check his office.” Joelle felt like a criminal walking into Scott’s office. She’d rarely been in here. On weekends when she’d stay with him, he usually spent most of Sunday afternoon in here while she caught up on her reading. The place reeked of pipe tobacco, and Joelle wondered how he breathed in here.

Peggy meant well, but they weren’t going to find anything incriminating in this house. If Scott had been leading a secret life, it was so secret he’d been able to keep it from her for over three years. Maybe the person they should be talking to was Robert Pastor?

What had prompted Mr. Pastor to have that picture taken? Had he taken it himself? And who was the mysterious source that claimed there were more pictures? Obviously Scott was seeing Betsy, but the only thing the photo actually proved was that they’d gone to a sex club once. So how had someone known to snap that picture on that particular day? Had Robert Pastor or someone else hired a private investigator to follow Scott?

Joelle flipped through the papers on his desk, but they were innocuous, just as she’d known they would be. His desk drawer was as neat as a pin. Pens, pencils, and paper clips all lined up in their own compartments. Even his eraser had a spot. Had he always been this fastidious? Yes, he had been. Whereas she’d once admired his organization skills, now she found them prissy and rigid.

She tried to open the filing cabinet and found it locked. She couldn’t remember if he’d always kept it locked. She’d never had a reason to go into his files. Opening the desk drawer again, she searched for a key, but didn’t see one. The two deeper desk drawers were filled with folders that contained receipts for paid utilities and other household accounts. She rifled through them but didn’t see any photos or other evidence he’d been visiting private sex clubs. This was a waste of their time.

“Find anything?” Peggy walked into the room.

“Only a locked filing cabinet.”

“Oh-ho…”

“How about you? Any hidden porn?”

Peggy began to feel underneath the furniture. “No, but I did find out your ex-fiancé has terrible taste in boxers. Boring!”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a key.”

Joelle let out a loud sigh. “Peggy, this is useless. His underwear drawer proves it. Boring—that describes Scott in a nutshell.”

“You saw the photo, Joelle. He had his arm around another woman, and they were going into a private sex club. Does that sound like—hello there…”

Peggy stood up with a triumphant smile on her face, and holding a silver key in her right hand. “Let’s see what this opens, shall we?”

Joelle laughed at her singsong voice as she watched Peggy fit the key into the lock at the top of filing cabinet. She pulled open the top drawer, then grinned at Joelle. “You should be the one to make any discoveries. You’re the jilted ex, after all.”

“I didn’t get jilted.”

“No, but he cheated on you.”

Joelle began to flip through the folders. “We don’t know that for certain. That could have been the first time they went there.” Joelle opened the second drawer, moved the folders around, and frowned. “There’s something underneath them.”

“What?” Peggy crowded next to her and peered inside.

Joelle reached under the folders and pulled out a manila envelope, holding it at arm’s length with two fingers as though it might bite her. “I can’t look inside.”

“Yes, you can.” Peggy’s eyes gleamed.

Joelle’s palms grew damp. She suddenly didn’t want to know. Every rotten thing Scott had ever said to her when she tried to get him to do something different in the bedroom came rushing back at her like a strong wind. His words had hurt her and made her feel sordid. The idea that he could have been slinking around sex clubs with this Betsy woman made her feel betrayed and cheap. How dare he? What a fucking hypocrite!

“Go on,” said Peggy gently. “You have to know.”

Joelle took a deep breath, undid the string, and reached inside. There was a single hand-written piece of paper with Rose and Leather listed at the top. Six additional names followed, none of which Joelle recognized, but all had addresses in Chicago, as well as telephone numbers and names written next to them. “These must be other clubs they went to.”

She handed the paper to Peggy, who read it then let out a low whistle. “What else is in there?”

Joelle handed the envelope to Peggy. “I can’t.”

Peggy pulled out dozens of snapshots. Joelle watched her face as she flipped through them.

“More pictures of them going into clubs?”

“Worse. These are pictures of them…together.” Peggy turned one over. “The name of the club and the date.” She turned each one over, then glanced at Joelle. “Don’t ask how far back the dates go.” Peggy stuffed the photos back into the envelope.

Joelle didn’t feel angry or even sad. The faces that rose in her mind weren’t those of Scott or Betsy. They were of Blade and his beautiful blue eyes and Cristian’s laughing gray ones. She had to get this information to them, and she had to give these photographs to someone who could nail Scott to the wall for good. “Does Mark have any contacts at the
Trib
?”

* * * *

Blade spent two nights on the balcony of his suite, watching first the stars then the sunrise. When daylight had come the day before, he’d barely moved. He hadn’t even gone to the office and tried to work. It had seemed pointless. Now, it was morning again, and he was still watching the sky.

Joelle was out there somewhere. Could she feel him thinking about her? He’d dialed her home number multiple times over the past two days but there was never an answer. He hoped like crazy that nothing had happened to her on the way home. He’d never forgive himself. After not being able to reach her the day before, he’d wanted to drive to Chicago, but Emmett had talked him out of it.

The four had pored over personnel files and guest questionnaires until around one in the morning the night Joelle left, but could find no obvious connection to Betsy Simpson and any of their former guests or staff, other than the fact that both Betsy and Cathy Henderson were from Madison, Wisconsin. Emmett had made the suggestion of finding Scott and hypnotizing him to find out why he’d decided to target the resort, but after a few moments worth of discussion, they all agreed that was too risky.

The obvious solution was to ask Betsy, but none of them could agree on the best way to handle her, and finally they agreed to sleep on it and come up with a solution the next morning. They’d spent hours yesterday discussing it yet again, but no definite decision had been made, other than to watch her closely to see if she tried to contact Scott again.

Zach and Blade wanted to fire her, but Cristian and Emmett both felt they should get some answers from her first. All four men agreed that whatever they did, it would tip their hand and could bring down a firestorm from Scott afterwards.

As for Cathy Henderson, Emmett volunteered to go to Madison and try to find out whether she and Betsy knew each other, but Zach said to wait until they decided on the best way to handle Betsy first.

A knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. When he opened it, Cristian, Zach, and Emmett stood there with wide grins on their faces. Emmett held up a copy of the
Tribune
. “Looks like we won’t have to do anything after all. Oh, and by the way, Betsy has given her immediate notice and left the building early this morning.”

“Come in.” Blade opened the door and took the newspaper from Emmett to read the front-page story. It featured three photos of Scott and Betsy in compromising positions, with exposed body parts blacked out. So much of each photo was blacked out, in fact, that there wasn’t much left, except for clear shots of both Betsy and Scott’s faces.

Shocking, even for the
Trib
, but Blade wasn’t thinking about their readership. He was thinking what seeing this would do to Joelle. The article detailed a list of clubs and the dates Scott and Betsy had visited each one, as evidenced by what had been written on the back of each photo, and corroborated by a list the reporter said had been found.

In addition to the photos and list of clubs and dates, Robert Pastor had spoken with the owners of each club who would neither confirm nor deny that Scott Malloy and Betsy Simpson had been patrons, but he and his sources had been able to uncover other members of two of the clubs who were more than happy to spill their guts about the alderman’s clandestine activities, dating back as far as five years earlier.

“Cristian, we have to find Joelle. She’ll be devastated when she sees this.”

“Keep reading. She’s seen it.”

“What?”

“Read.”

Blade scanned the article, which included a mention of neither Betsy nor Scott being available for comment. At the very end, the author acknowledged Joelle by name, saying she had been quoted as saying she was unaware of Scott’s secret life, his obvious long-time affair with Betsy Simpson, and that calling off her engagement six months earlier had nothing to do with either, but she was now very glad she had done so.

Blade glanced at Cristian. “She must be in so much pain. Just because she told a reporter these things doesn’t mean she’s all right.” Blade tossed the paper on the coffee table. “I’m going to Chicago. Are you coming?”

Joelle had finally slept well the night she and Peggy had found the photos and list in Scott’s townhouse, but Blade and Cristian had still haunted her dreams. The only thing that kept her from going insane with need and pain was the certainty that now Scott wouldn’t be able to use the resort to further his political career.