JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) (4 page)

Oh, how her compassion and care for her own warms the cockles of my heart.

Paulie sits back down, slowly, and looks as white as a sheet. I’m just about ready to give her a freaking Oscar when she sniffles and seems bereft at the thought of not being able to go to Cleo.

Sometimes you just know when someone is lying, not by word or action or any real physical response, but just by a feeling. That’s the feeling I have right now watching Paulie morph back into the skittish mouse I’ve always seen her play.

To be fair, I do think her concern for Cleo is genuine. I just don’t think she’s reacting quite the way she would if myself or Ronny weren’t here.

“Erm, shouldn’t we at least go see Cleo and—”

“Oh nonsense! We’d just be in the way, and besides, the salon bookings aren’t refundable, are they, Paulette?” Ronny says matter-of-factly, giving the other woman a mean smile. “I’d rather hate to lose all that money after going to all this trouble. Cleo will still be there tomorrow if you feel the overwhelming urge to visit her sickbed. Now let’s go, darlings. These nails need a refresh and I know just the color I want.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon listening to Ronny dish dirt upon dirt about everyone from the mayor’s daughter to the Freemont twins, who have a penchant for trying to sleep with each other’s girlfriends to win a bet that’s been in the mix since those idiots turned eighteen.

What I get from this, what I know after three hours of watching Paulie titter and dote on Ronny, is that nothing in this place is as it seems and the truth is probably not something I want to know anyway.

All I know is that Jace has been shadowing me since I followed Ronny’s car three hours ago, and my plan is on track. I hope.

If I’m right, I should be deep within the bowels of the Lane home by this time tomorrow, and then I can start piecing things together before everything comes crashing down around my ears.

You think being a blackmailed FBI profiler and double agent against your own father is nerve racking? Try spending an afternoon with two of the city’s most mismatched socialites and a roomful of animosity. Now that is enough to start my “anxiety” screaming at me full blast to get the hell out of town, like nothing else, and I’m pretty sure that if I don’t have an ulcer already, I will before I nail Ronny’s ass to the wall.

Jace

God help me, she is so beautiful.

That’s my newest thought after getting over the news of before and realizing that it’s not the end of the world, that I can still salvage something with Trace.

Granted, my plan seems to revolve around kidnapping, since I’m more than willing to bring her home and watch her attempts to escape while my family looks on, laughing at me.

Whatever the outcome, I feel a lot more relaxed now than I did a few hours ago, and the reason for that is that I’ve seen something Trace probably wouldn’t want me to have seen.

She doesn’t like Ronny.

It’s there in her body language every time the woman touches her or laughs about whatever the hell it is an evil spawn like Ronny finds amusing.

And there goes that eye roll I remember so well, the one Trace is so good at hiding. I’ve been the recipient of those eye rolls and raised brows many times, so I know when she’s annoyed beyond bearing, and this seems to be one of those times.

It hasn’t escaped me, either, that she’s not as open with Paulie as she used to be. For whatever reason, I can see that she’s avoiding Paulie, though the girl has tried on more than one occasion to draw her into conversation.

“What the hell is going on here?” I hear from my left a second before Jared hunkers down beside me in the booth of the diner across the road from the salon.

“Don’t know. Trace looks pissed and your bird seems put out by something, while Miss Ronny doesn’t seem all that concerned that her dear aunt Cleo was found unresponsive in her bed this morning.”

Paulie’s reaction I can understand, since the girl looks upon Cleo as a sort of mother figure in place of her own, who by the way, I wouldn’t allow to raise a pack of feral wolves.

Trace, well, it’s interesting to see that she’s not as into Ronny and her way of thinking as she led me to believe.

According to what I’ve heard on the grapevine, Cleo took a spill and broke her hip. Jerry, our own little insider, tells a different story. We know that Cleo is unresponsive due to having ingested a toxin that has yet to be identified by the doctors.

“I don’t like any of this, Jace. Ronny is way too okay with all of this to be unaware of what went down with Cleo, and Paulie has yet to return any of my calls since day before yesterday,” Jared gripes, signalling to the waitress for a coffee and a menu.

My own food is cold and untouched as I keep my eyes on the salon and watch Trace flick a narrow-eyed glance Paulie’s way.

“Something is up with Paulie. Trace has been giving her looks all afternoon, and Ronny seems to be enjoying whatever the heck is going on with them, that’s for sure. What did Miah say about it?”

“Nothing.” Jared shrugs, thanking the waitress for his coffee and placing a full lunch order. “He and Clari are still in that honeymoon phase, and a lot of his time is spent looking for Nick Grimes, as you know.”

“Still? I thought we decided to leave that to Case while we handle shit down here.”

Jared shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“You know how those idiots are about their women, man. Miah wants to find Grimes all on his own to prove to himself that he can protect Clari without help from the FBI and that agent, Steph Williams. He’s got a bug up his ass that she saved Clari before he could.”

Christ, I really hope that shit isn’t contagious, because I’ve met the new Tracy Mayfield, and for some odd reason, I get the idea that if I ever tried to play big strong caveman with her, she’d cut my balls off and make a necklace out of my manhood.

“What’s the difference as long as Clari is okay and he got her back?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. For instance, it still chaps my ass that Trace wouldn’t let me help her get on her feet when I left her, and ran back to her daddy instead.

Some things a man just needs to do for his girl. End of story. Not being able to take care of Trace after I hurt her was a major kick in the nuts, especially when she chose to go home to her father.

I know what Miah must be feeling right now, and I pity him because I’m certain Agent Williams already has Nick Grimes in her clutches.

That being said, we really do not have the time or the resources to have Miah mounting a one-man search and kill on Nick Grimes, and I told the fool that myself not two days ago.

“Jace, man, I know you understand what my twin is feeling right now. Just chill about the family and let’s focus on our own objective for now. Roman is still deep with the undercover shit, and he hasn’t been too forthcoming recently about what’s going on with Dobson and the other cops in his unit. I’m getting one of those bad feelings.”

Me too.

Jared and Miah might be the twins in the family, but Jared and I are in sync when it comes to running ops like this one. We’re both in agreement here. Something is not right, not right at all, and I get the feeling that we’re being played by a lot of people who aren’t even on our radar.

Why I feel this way is anyone’s guess, and yet I’ve learned to trust my gut; it’s right more times than not.

“I’ve had a feeling since this mess started with Ellie and Lynn and it just keeps getting worse, man. It’s too coincidental that the family would start kicking up the dirt just when we’re running an op and trying to take down these asshole extremists.”

Another thing that’s been bugging me lately is the whole setup with Paulette Hayes and Cleo, not that I don’t like them or anything…I think…but it’s all just too easy and sewn up to suit me.

Why would Cleo go against her own and start feeding us info all of a sudden? And why the hell would she warn me to avoid my own father and the rest of the family, like Roman’s parents?

My father actually survived the wreck that killed my mom. Most folks think he died right along with her, since I went to live with Jude and George when I was too little to know different.

He did live, though, and seemed very eager to rid himself of me after losing Mom, something that’s made me hate the man for quite some time. My own father and Cleo seem to be real close, considering they’re only related through marriage and the children running around on that side of the lawn, and the fact that she’d just flip switches and start helping us after what Lynn did is weird.

“Yo, Jace, bro, you still with me here?” Jared calls, making me jerk back to the here and now just as Trace and the other women come skipping out of the salon.

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

Trace hugs them both and they spend a few minutes talking animatedly before Ronny and Paulie climb into Ronny’s car. Trace makes her way to her own ride, and the three of them pull out, leaving in opposite directions.

“See! I told you something wasn’t right. I’ll kill whoever did that.” Jared starts rambling and it takes me a while to understand what this latest rant is about.

Jared is usually not the chattiest asshole on the toilet seat, so having him just blurt stuff out that doesn’t pertain to what we’re doing here is definitely amusing, not to mention the reason he’s so bent out of shape right now.

“Calm down, Wolverine. The woman had her hair trimmed. She didn’t shave half of it off and dye it pink.” I laugh, watching Trace’s car till it turns the corner on Main and drives out of sight.

“I told her not to cut her Goddamned hair when Ronny mentioned it a week ago.”

And there you have it. Jared is nuts, I’m headed that way thanks to Trace and this whole wedding thing she sprang on me, and Miah and the others are probably already inmates at the loony farm.

Jared leaves without taking a bite of his lunch and storms out with an expression that makes even my balls shrink in terror, and I shake my head with a sigh and a grunt to the cosmos.

Thanks, man, thanks a lot for landing all this shit on my lap in the same week as the anniversary of my mother’s death.

This is all just Goddamned great
, I think, rising to leave and actually go get some work done instead of following Trace home and watching her like a creeper.

Not that I
wouldn’t,
but I really do have few things to look into before I carry out the plans I’ve made for her.

***

“Jason Antonio Lane, what the hell do you think you’re doing, young man?”

I cringe and look up from the bed where I’ve set up some restraints and made sure that the length is perfect for maximum comfort. So fucking what if the only plan I’ve come up with yet is to kidnap my girl and keep her here till this whole mess blows over. It’s not my most original plan, but it worked for Wyatt and Ellie, and shit, I have nothing else to go on here.

I know it’s extreme and nuts, and believe me, I’ve done nothing but think about how reprehensible my plans are all freaking day since leaving that diner.

But it’s the only way I can think of to get Trace here and keep her safe and as far away from that whack job Ronny as humanly possible.

“Jason.”

Ma only gets that tone and uses my full name when she’s mad, and boy do I hate seeing Ma mad, because as sweet as she looks and
is
most of the time, the woman has a tongue as sharp as a freaking razor and never fails to use it when riled.

And trust me, she’s riled from finding me tying restraints to my bed like some sicko getting ready to kidnap his girl and…tie her to his bed.

“This isn’t what it looks like, Ma. I swear,” I mutter, swallowing when she narrows her eyes and pads farther into the room, taking a long slow look at the restraints and the bottled water and Tylenol sitting on the nightstand.

“Jason,” she starts slowly, trying her best to remain calm. “Why does it look like you’re planning to kidnap someone and tie them to your bed? And by that, I mean why are you planning to kidnap Tracy and tie her to your bed?!”

My hands come up in surrender and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from babbling like a damn little boy who just got caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Now, Ma, just listen, okay? I, uh, see the thing is…Tracy is engaged and she’s been hanging around with Ronny and Paulie, and Aunt Cleo was just found in her bed after someone shot her up with something, and I just can’t leave Trace out there to get hurt or worse, run off and get married to some guy who seems to be really nice but has to have something wrong with him to be in Senator Mayfield’s pocket.”

I shudder and wince when she narrows one eye at me and looks back at the bed with a frown.

“Your situation is nothing like Wyatt and Ellie’s, and I see no reason for you to be planning something this drastic, Jason Lane.”

“But Ma…”

She sniffs and looks down her nose at me the way she used to when she’d catch me and Jared surfing the net for porn before Pop put one of those restrictions on every terminal in the house and almost yelled to death.

“Really, Jason, be more creative than this, darling. Why don’t you tell me everything and let Mama help you with your troubles.”

Really?

“I just fu—I just did, Ma. Tracy is engaged and getting married in a month or two or something, and she’s hanging with Satan and her one-woman crew, okay? I don’t trust any of this and I want her here under our roof where she’ll be safe.”

Another sniff hits me and I close one eye in surrender.

“Well why didn’t you just say so in the first place, dear? Really. Give Mama Tracy’s address and I’ll get her over here for dinner while Jared and Miah pack her things up and bring them home. And, Jace, darling? Get rid of the restraints. Mama can handle Tracy well enough that you won’t need to do something that will only make you feel guilty,” she says knowingly, making me bite my lips to stifle a chuckle as she walks to the door.

I look longingly at the restraints, thinking of the benefits of leaving them for a time when Trace will actually appreciate them and my expertise with certain sexual aids.

“Now, Jason!”

Christ. Thwarted by my own freaking mother.

“Don’t tell the others!” I yell after her, hoping like hell that none of my brothers are in residence or even within earshot.

All I get for my efforts is a drawn-out chuckle and a wave over her shoulder. Great, now instead of a week spent in bed, trying to convince Tracy that she does not hate me, I get to look forward to my brothers’ teasing and Tracy glaring at me. Just great.

My phone rings not ten minutes later and I get to listen to Wyatt laughing his ass off for a good minute before he manages to choke in a breath and calm his ass down.

“You let Ma catch you planning a kidnapping? Dude, that’s why I took Ellie to Uncle Gardner’s place instead of going home, man. Seriously?”

“Shut up, you fool. Where did you want me to take her once I grabbed her, huh? They know about Gardner’s place and the cottage on the estate is too close to the boundary for my peace of mind. Here is the safest option I have, you ass, and thanks to Ma’s penchant for snooping…”

Wyatt laughs again before sobering and getting down to business, just like my big brother.

“So Ellie and Ma said that Trace is getting married.”

I start pacing to work off the energy that’s been building up since this afternoon and seeing Trace hug that viper’s spawn. It’s just gotten worse the longer I think about it, which is all day thanks to the last few hours spent working silently in what was supposed to be an under-the-radar way.