His Stolen Bride (Chicago Sons) (11 page)

“We’re here,” Ellie stated unnecessarily as they turned in to the long driveway. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I just want to get it over with.”

“Then let’s do it.” Ellie stepped on the accelerator and took them briskly up the drive.

She wheeled through the turnaround and brought the car to the curb. A security guard immediately came out through the front door, obviously intent on asking their business. But when he saw Crista, he stopped short.

She got out of the car, pausing while Ellie came around the front bumper.

“I’m here to see Vern,” she stated, holding her head high.

“Of course, ma’am,” said the guard, his expression inscrutable.

For the first time ever, Crista found herself wondering if the guard was armed. Were all of the security staff armed? It seemed likely they would be. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Jackson and Mac showed up.

“We need to hurry,” she said to Ellie, trotting up the stairs. The phone in her purse suddenly felt heavy.

She’d been in the mansion foyer hundreds of times, and she knew it well. It was octagonal with a polished marble floor and ornate pillars. A set of double doors led to a grand hallway and the curving staircase. The hallway was a popular place for guests at the Gerhards’ cocktail parties to gather and view the family art collection.

It had never struck her as intimidating before, but rather opulent and grand. It was fit for industrialists, celebrities, even royalty.

She heard footsteps descending the staircase. But she stayed put, not wanting to venture far from the exit. It was Jackson’s fault she was feeling so skittish. All his talk of speed-dialing him or him and Mac storming the place had her pointlessly nervous.

Vern appeared in the doorway, coming to an abrupt halt when he spotted Ellie. He frowned, and his nostrils flared.

“I asked Ellie to come,” said Crista.

“I would have come anyway,” said Ellie.

“She can wait here,” said Vern.

“I’m staying here, too,” said Crista. “This won’t take long.”

His brows rose with obvious incredulity. “What do you mean, it won’t take long? We have our entire future to discuss.”

“I’ve seen the pictures, Vern.”

“What pictures?”

“You and Gracie.”

He paled a shade, and she knew all the accusations were true.

But then he regrouped and went on the attack. “Do you mean Gracie Stolt? I told you, she’s a client.”

“She’s your mistress.” Then Crista rethought the terminology. “I mean, she would have been your mistress. If we’d gotten married.”

Vern moved closer, his tone hardening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve seen—”

“I don’t care what you think you’ve seen. It was obviously a misrepresentation of something. And what about you? Shacked up in a hotel with your ex-boyfriend.”

“I wanted to be alone.”

“Alone with
him
.”

“He was
helping
me.”

Ellie reached out to touch her arm. “Crista.”

Vern stepped closer still. “You’re going to deny you slept with him?”

Crista opened her mouth to say yes. But then she thought better of the impulse. She had no need to defend herself. “I’m here to give you back your ring.”

Vern shook his head. “I won’t accept it. We can work this out.”

“You just accused me of infidelity.”

“You accused me first.”

Anger rose inside her, and she jabbed her index finger in his direction. “You
did it
.” Then she pointed at her own chest. “I
didn’t
.”

She grasped her ring and pulled. But as she’d feared, her fingers had swollen, and it didn’t want to come off. She pulled harder. “But I’m going to,” she said defiantly as she tugged. “I’m going out there right now to sleep with Jackson.”

The ring suddenly popped off. It slipped from her fingers and bounced across the floor.

They both watched it come to rest on a white tile.

“You’re not going to do that,” said Vern.

“You can’t stop me.”

He reached out to grasp her arm, holding her fast.

“Let me go!” She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Ellie retrieve her phone.

“Don’t,” she cried out to Ellie.

Jackson and Mac would only make things worse. They could make things a whole lot worse.

“Do I need to call the police?” Ellie asked Vern in a cold voice.

Vern glared daggers at her but then released Crista’s arm.

“We need to talk,” he said to Crista, schooling his expression, clearing the anger from his face, entreaty coming into his eyes.

“Not today,” said Crista. She just wanted to get out of here.

“Not ever,” said Ellie.

“You don’t understand,” said Vern, his expression now projecting hurt and confusion.

He suddenly looked so familiar. Her heart remembered everything they’d had together, and it ached for the loss.

“I have to go,” she said, mortified to hear a catch in her own voice. She needed to be stronger than that.

Then Ellie’s arm was around her, urging her to the door, picking up the tempo until they were outside. She immediately saw Jackson’s SUV pulling up the drive.

“Are fifteen minutes up?” asked Crista, her voice now shaky. It had seemed more like three.

“You’re going to sleep with Jackson?” Ellie asked as they hustled down the steps.

“I was bluffing.”

“He didn’t tell you about the hot mike?”

“The what?”

Mac hopped out of the passenger seat and jumped in to drive the silver sedan.

“Jackson and Mac could hear every word we said. Me threatening to call the police was the secret signal.”

“There was a secret signal?”

“Go,” said Ellie, pushing her toward the open door of the SUV.

Afraid to look back, Crista hopped inside and slammed the door shut. Jackson peeled away.

* * *

Jackson was relieved to have her back. He was stupidly giddy with relief. When Ellie had uttered the distress phrase, his heart had lodged in his throat. A dozen dire scenarios flashed through his mind as they sped up the driveway.

“You’re okay?” He felt the need to confirm as they made it to the road.

“Ticked off,” she said, fastening her seat belt.

“He didn’t hurt you?”

“He grabbed me, but he let me go. His ring’s on the floor of the foyer.”

“Good,” said Jackson with clipped satisfaction.

She shifted in the seat, angling toward him. “You bugged Ellie’s phone?”

“We thought it was safest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It would have made you nervous.”

“I was already nervous.”

“Yes.” That had been his point. “It was bad enough for you without knowing you had a bigger audience.”

“That was underhanded.”

“Maybe.”

“It was a personal conversation.”

“You mean the part where you announced your intention to sleep with me?”

“That was a bluff.”

It was too tempting not to tease her. “I’m very disappointed to hear that.”

She moaned in obvious embarrassment. “Mac heard me say it, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“Call him. Tell him I was joking.”

“He knows you were joking.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s going to think there’s something going on between us.”

Jackson glanced her way. “There’s not?”

“No, there’s not. Well, not that. Not…” She seemed to search for words. “I just broke up with my fiancé. I was minutes from getting married on Saturday.” The pitch of her voice rose. “There can’t be anything between us.”

“Okay,” said Jackson. “I’ll play along.”

“I’m not asking you to
play along
. I’m asking you to accept the reality of the situation.”

“Consider it accepted.”

She watched him with obvious suspicion. “Tell Mac.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was illegally recorded, and I want the record set straight.”

Jackson struggled not to laugh. “Sure.” He fished his phone out of his pocket, pressing the speed dial and putting it on hands-free. He dropped it on the seat between them.

“What’s up?” came Mac’s answer over the small speaker.

“Crista wants me to set the record straight.”

“What record?” asked Mac.

“She’s not going to sleep with me.”

There was a silence. “Uh, okay.” Mac paused. When he spoke again, Jackson detected a trace of laughter. “Why not?”

“Because I barely know him,” said Crista.

“He’s a great guy,” said Mac. “And I hear he’s a good lover.”

“From who?” asked Crista without missing a beat.

Jackson caught her gaze and mouthed the word
really
?

“Was it Melanie?” she asked, obviously thinking she’d turned the tables on him.

“He told you about Melanie?”

Jackson scooped up the phone and switched it to his ear. “That’s enough about me.”

Mac chuckled.

“Chicken,” said Crista.

“We’re not taking her home,” Jackson said to Mac.

“Her being me?” asked Crista.

“Where to?” asked Mac.

“The office, for a start.”

“Your office?” asked Crista.

“You want to look at the other thing?” asked Mac.

“That’s right,” Jackson said to Mac. “My office,” he said to Crista.

“I should go home,” she said. “This is over, and I’m tired of running. I’m pretty sure he got the message.”

“He tried to physically restrain you.”

“That was for her, right?” asked Mac.

“So did you,” Crista pointed out.

Jackson didn’t have an argument for that. He could also understand why Crista would think it was perfectly safe for her to go home. As far as she was concerned, she’d just broken up with a cheating fiancé. She didn’t know about the diamond mine, so she didn’t realize Gerhard and his family might have millions, possibly tens of millions of reasons to drag her back.

“I’m driving,” he pointed out.

The car was going wherever he steered it. She could like it or not.

She crossed her arms and gave a huff. “If I’m going to your office, then Ellie’s coming, too.”

It didn’t seem necessary, but he had no particular objection.

“She’s my chaperone,” Crista continued. “I don’t want there to be gossip about you and me.”

“You’re obsessing,” he said.

“Tell them,” said Crista.

“Crista wants Ellie to come with us.”

Mac’s voice went muffled. “You want to stick with us?” He paused. “She’s in,” he said to Jackson. “I’ve got a couple stops to make. But we’ll meet you there.”

It took thirty minutes to arrive at Rush Investigations. The offices were housed in a converted warehouse a few blocks off the river. It wasn’t the swankiest address, but the brick building was solid, and it gave them the space they needed to store vehicles and equipment.

They drove into the fenced compound and then accessed the garage area with the automatic door opener, parking the SUV in one of a dozen marked spots along the back wall. There was a customer entrance on the main floor of the attached four-story office tower. It was nicely decorated with comfortable seating, coffee service and a receptionist. But Jackson rarely went through there.

“Wow,” said Crista as she stepped out of the vehicle onto the concrete floor. She craned her neck to look up at the open twenty-foot ceiling, where steel beams crossed fluorescent lighting, and her voice echoed in the mostly empty space. “This is huge.”

Work benches stretched along two of the walls, while the east end was given over to shelving and a small electronics shop. An orange corrugated-metal staircase led from the shelving area to the second floor of the office tower.

“There are times we need the room,” he said. “But most of the vehicles are out right now. This way.” He gestured to the staircase.

“Just how big is your company?” she asked as they walked.

“It’s grown since I started it.”

“Grown from what to what?”

“To somewhere around three hundred people.”

“There’s that much going on in Chicago that needs investigating?”

He couldn’t help a grin. “They’re not all investigators. But, yes, there’s easily that much going on. We also have offices in Boston, New York and Philly.”

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, her forehead furrowing. “I know I keep asking this, but what exactly are you doing?”

“A lot of missing-persons cases,” he answered. “Security and protection. Infidelity’s always a big one. And then there’s the corporate—”

“I mean with me. What are you doing with me?”

He knew he had to tell her about the mine eventually. But he didn’t want her to bolt. He knew she’d be gone like a shot if she had any inkling her father was involved.

“For the moment,” he said, meeting her eyes and telling the truth, “I’m trying to give you some time and distance to consider your options.”

“I did. And I just took an option. I broke it off.”

“You have other options. Life options. Like what you do next?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve spent most of the last three days with you.”

She was clearly growing exasperated with his talking in circles. “Which leads me right back to
why
. Who sent you? Why did you even come looking for me in the first place?”

“Somebody asked me a question about Vern. I got curious. And then, I guess, I just kept wading deeper and deeper.”

“I’m not your concern.”

He found himself moving closer, lowering his voice, increasing the intimacy of the conversation. “I spend quite a lot of time wading around in things that don’t concern me.”

She shook her head at what she clearly thought was his foolishness. “You normally get paid to do that.”

He gave a shrug. “There’s getting paid, and there’s getting paid.”

“One more time, Jackson, I’m not going to sleep with you.” She couldn’t quite keep a poker face.

He took one of her hands in his and stepped closer still. “You sure?”

She didn’t answer.

He brushed his lips gently against hers. “You sure?”