Chapter Nine

Brielle

Mari insists on paying for our late lunch as agreed before we lead Detective Tucker back to my place. When we arrive, he holds out his hand for my keys.

"Alarm code?" he asks.

I flush scarlet.

"Well… um… about that…" I begin to say, but Mari's exclamation drowns me out.

"Seriously? Are you freaking kidding me? You never got the alarm system activated? Are you crazy, Bri?"

I glance at her, cringe at her furious expression, then turn to speak to Detective Tucker and notice he is mirroring her angry stare.

I hunch my shoulders.

"First thing in the morning," I mutter. "I promise."

"Tonight, Ms. Cerver," Tucker retorts. "I know a guy. Let me go clear your house right quick, and I'll call him."

He steps away, shaking his head, and unlocks my front door.

"Stay here and stay together. I'll be right back," he admonishes before he walks inside my house.

"Seriously, Bri?" Mari asks again, one eyebrow raised.

"Hey, it's just been texts and calls, so…."

"No, ma'am," she interrupts. "No, ma'am. No excuse, especially living by yourself."

The withering look that she sends me renders me mute. It is only a few minutes that pass before Tucker's voice ends Mari's silent rebuke, but it feels like an eternity.

"All clear, come on in."

We gather in my living room to await the arrival of the Cosantóirí LLC employee.

No words are spoken, but none need to be - because Mari is right. I should have had the alarm system activated from the moment I moved in here two years ago, and the fact that I did not makes me realize how lax I have become about my safety.

No shit, Sherlock. Especially with what happened back in…

NOPE. Do not say another word. I got it.

The chime of my doorbell launches me out of self-recrimination and off the sofa, but Detective Tucker shakes his head and stops my progress.

"I'll get it," he says, and strides with purpose out to the hallway to answer the front door. Mere moments later he escorts the new arrival into my living room, and my jaw drops wide open.

Allen Jones is standing in front of me, looking even better than the first time I saw him. The man I want and cannot have, the man that I am ashamed to admit frequently appears in my dreams, approaches me with his hand extended in greeting.

Mari nudges me with her elbow, and I snap my mouth closed.

"Ms. Cerver, it's nice to see you again, although I wish it were under different circumstances," Allen says in that deep, sexy drawl that makes my entire body heat up, and I feel a flush coming to my cheeks as I wonder precisely what different circumstances he would prefer.

Hello? Are you dense? He made it clear he was not interested, remember? Focus on the problem, please.

I clear my throat, determined to remain detached – and to avoid shaking his hand at all costs.

Can’t let him touch me. I cannot afford to have another round of fireworks go off in front of Mari – she notices everything…

"Nice to see you again as well, Mr. Jones. May I ask why you're here, exactly?" I reply, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

A megawatt smile that shows off his dimples and a twinkle in his stunning blue-grey eyes precedes his response.

"You're the one that called my company for help, Ms. Cerver. You tell me."

Wait… what?

I blink rapidly and find my mouth is gaping open in surprise again.

***

Mari comes to my rescue by offering beverages, and I follow her to the kitchen. The moment we are out of earshot of the men the questions start.

"Is that the guy?" Mari stage-whispers at me as she starts the coffeepot.

"Yep," I confirm.

"Super dreamy. I can see why you're interested."

"Was interested, Mari. Past tense. Was."

"Oh, whatever. I saw the look on your face when he walked in and felt the heat between you two. If the cop and I had not been here, you two would be banging on your couch right now."

My eyes widen. "I'm sorry, what?"

Mari giggles. "You heard me. You've got it bad for that guy."

"I'm not doing this with you, Mar. He had a shot, he was an ass, he blew it. End of story. I don't care how… how…"

"Dreamy," she interjected.

"Sure. Dreamy. I don't care how dreamy he is, this is not happening."

"Don't fool yourself, Bri," is her parting shot as she fills a glass with ice and water, pours a cup of coffee, then motions her head toward the other room. "Come on, let's get back in there and see what Dreamy Man has to say."

I growl softly at her before I confiscate Tucker's coffee mug so that I can purposely focus on the guy in my living room that does not send my pulse skyrocketing.

Allen

Even surprise followed by confusion cannot mar Brielle's beauty, and I barely keep myself from closing the distance between us and embracing her.

Instead, I move to the coffee table in front of the couch and unpack my laptop.

"Let me get this fired up so I can take notes while we talk," I tell my audience, and all three nod their acknowledgement and move to take a seat.

It does not escape my notice that Brielle chooses the armchair placed the farthest distance from where I am setting up my impromptu workspace.

"Would anyone like something to drink? Coffee?" the other woman in the room asks, and I smile at her.

"I'll take some water, please."

Detective Tucker asks for coffee.

As her friend moves toward the kitchen Brielle stands suddenly.

"I'll come with you, Mari," she announces with a nervous tremor in her tone, and I witness a pointed glance pass between them before they leave the room.

Wonder what that's about…

I turn my attention to Tucker.

"How've you been, Adam?"

He shrugs. "Living the dream, Allen, as always. I take it you and Ms. Cerver have a history of some sort?"

"She was my realtor," I explain, and hope he leaves it at that.

"Uh huh," comes the response that lets me know I have fooled precisely no one at all.

The silence that descends is awkward, and it is only broken when Brielle and Mari return to the living room. Mari marches over to me and hands me my water with a wink and a smile.

O…kay…

Meanwhile, Brielle's attention is completely focused on Tucker, and the feel of the room's atmosphere tells me that is by design.

Well then. Time to shift her attention to me.

"Start from the beginning, please, Ms. Cerver. When did the harassment start?"

"Six or eight weeks ago, I think?' she replies as she retakes the seat farthest from me. "A weird voicemail. At the time I figured it was a wrong number, so, I deleted it and forgot about it."

"What did the voicemail say, precisely?"

Brielle tilts her head back and closes her eyes, presumably searching her memory, and my hands falter on my keyboard as I picture myself kissing my way up that supple neck to nibble on a delicious-looking earlobe as I…

Down, boy. Not now.

"Ms. Cerver?"

"Sorry," she mumbles. "It was something like 'do you miss me' or something along that line. Not threatening, not even that weird, so like I said, I figured it was just a misdial."

"And approximately when was the next incident?"

We continue the questioning and I take detailed notes as to the increasingly aggressive content of the texts and voicemails she has received to date.

Escalating, I confirm as I skim my summary so far.

"Okay. This latest incident?'

She sighs, stands up, and approaches me long enough to hand me her cell phone so I can read it for myself. I fight to keep from clenching my fists when I see the clandestine picture taken of her earlier today.

"When we saw that, we called him," Mari chimes in, pointing at Tucker. "And he suggested it's time for Brielle to have some personal security in place. Especially" - her voice took on a matronly 'you're-in-deep-trouble' tone -"since she's been living here two years without any sort of home security system."

I almost chuckle at the dirty look Brielle shoots her friend's direction, but my concern for Brielle's safety ratchets up another notch.

"Well, that's easily remedied," I reply as I pull out my cell phone and dial.

"Pete," I say when he answers, "I need you to come to the address I’m about to text to you. Full setup, code two."

"You got it, boss," Pete says, and I hang up the call and send him Brielle's address.

Mari pins Brielle with a hard stare.

"You going to tell him the rest?"

"I don't think it's germane to the current situation," Brielle fires back, chin jutting out, steel in both her eyes and her tone.

"But it could be," Detective Tucker points out. "To protect you, he really does need to know all of it."

Brielle looks back and forth at the two of them before she hangs her head.

"Fine. But if we are going to do this, I need a drink. I'll be right back."

She stands and stomps back toward the kitchen.