Seducing the Defendant Page 23

  I kiss her lips, then say against them. “I was kind of hoping we could go out and celebrate.”

  “Of course we can. What would you like to do? You name it, and we’ll do it,” she says, always wanting to make me happy. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I’ve found a truly warm, supportive woman. She never nags me, or makes my day more stressful. And I make sure to do the same back to her, to be there for her in any way she needs me. A relationship is definitely a two-way street, and one that requires effort on both sides. I know it’s not always going to be easy, but she’s just so easy to love that everything comes naturally. Nothing about us is forced, and nothing about how I feel for her was rushed. We happened because we’re meant to be together. Because no one can love her like I can, and no one can be to me what she is.

  “How about a day at the beach?” I suggest. “It’s been a while since I’ve surfed, or gone swimming.”

  “That sounds perfect,” she replies, sliding off me. “I’ll get ready. Should I pack some food? Like a picnic or something?”

  “That sounds nice, but we can get something if you don’t want to,” I tell her.

  She waves her hand in the air. “It’s no problem, it’ll only take me a few minutes to sort out. I’ll make us a fruit platter, cheese, crackers, cold cuts, and wine.”

  She gives me a smile, then rushes off to get everything done.

  I shake my head, then head to my room to get changed.

  A day in the water is just what the doctor ordered.

  My mouth drops open when Scarlett walks out in a rustic orange triangle bikini. “That’s what you’re wearing?” I ask, completely distracted by the sight before me.

  “Yeah, why?” she asks, looking down at herself. She runs her hand down her stomach. “Does it look okay?”

  She spins around, and I see that while the bottom isn’t a G-string, it also shows a lot of cheek.

  “Are you bringing something to wrap around yourself?” I probe, wondering if she’s trying to get me into a fight today.

  “Yeah, of course,” she says, sounding like I’m being silly. I then watch as she slides on a see-through cover-up thing that doesn’t actually cover anything, and still shows off the round globes of her ass.

  “Ummmm,” I murmur, not knowing how to approach this exactly.

  “I’m ready,” she says, carrying the picnic basket. She slides her feet into a pair of flip-flops, and places a wide-brim hat on her head. So everything is covered, except her ass, apparently.

  “Scarlett,” I say slowly, clearing my throat.

  “Yeah?” she asks, distracted, grabbing her towel. I step to her and take the basket and towel from her, so she doesn’t have to carry anything. “I can see your ass. I mean, it’s a very nice one—don’t get me wrong. In fact, it’s making me want to skip the beach and drag you into the bedroom, but I’d kind of like to not have to share that ass with the beach’s male population.”

  She points to my bare chest. “So you get to flash your six-pack to all the women but I can’t show a little curve of booty?”

  “Women aren’t going to be looking at me,” I try to defend.

  Her expression remains unimpressed, like she doesn’t believe that one bit. “No one is going to look at me either.”

  “Fine.” I sigh, placing my hand on the small of her back. “You walk in front.”

  “Why?” she asks, looking suspicious.

  “Because I hate to see you go, but I like to watch you leave,” I tease, giving her ass a little, playful slap.

  “Jaxon.” She laughs, stepping in front of me, and exaggeratedly swinging her hips.

  I grit my teeth as her ass jiggles, kind of wishing we weren’t going anywhere now. We could have done a different type of celebrating at home, but I think that’s going to have to wait a few hours now.

  Lucky her company is just as incredible as the sex.

  chapter 42

  Scarlett

  I GO BACK TO JAXON’S after work the next day, tired after a ten-hour shift. I place my bag on the kitchen counter and plop down on the couch, lifting my feet up and sighing in content. I send Jaxon a quick message asking what time he will be home and whether he can pick something up for dinner because I’m just too tired to cook right now. His home phone rings, but I don’t bother to answer, both because I’m exhausted and because there’s no way it’s going to be for me anyway. It goes to voice mail.

  “Jaxon?” a lady says. “It’s Mom. Just calling to see how you’re doing. Your father and I haven’t spoken to you in a few weeks now. Are you still dating that girl? You know, I saw her case on TV.” She sighs deeply, like she feels sorry for Jaxon. He obviously told her about me, but she doesn’t seem too impressed. “What she went through was awful, just like Olivia, but I don’t want you to think that you have an obligation to help a woman, and be with her just because of what happened with your sister. You can’t save everyone, Jaxon, even though I know you try to. You’re a good man, son, but you don’t need to take on problems that aren’t your own. Call me whenever you can.”

  She hangs up, but enough damage has already been caused.

  You don’t need to take on problems that aren’t your own.

  Why does his mom view it this way? Has he said something to her? I sit with my hands in my lap, wondering what to do about this. His mom just voiced all the worries I had about the situation in one extremely damning, heartbreaking voice mail. I never spoke to Jaxon about how I felt after finding out that his sister killed herself because she was a victim of domestic violence, that our stories were so similar but with different endings. I kept it to myself. I started to bury it. And now? It’s risen to the surface again. His mom is right; Jaxon is a good man. I don’t see myself as a problem though. Yeah, I have a messed-up past, but who doesn’t? It doesn’t mean I’m not a good woman, or that I have so much baggage that no one should ever want me again.

  Obligation.

  Wow, that hurts.

  And it hurts because it taps into my biggest fear, which is that Jaxon felt as though he had to save me because he couldn’t save his sister.

  Things that happen in your life shape how you think about things, and how you act, and how do I know that his scars from what happened and his guilt aren’t the reasons he decided to stay in my life? What if he’s with me because he feels he has to be, because I needed saving?

  Because I was weak?

  Because he sees his sister in me?

  I stand up and start to pace, my sore feet no longer the most painful thing on my body. I decide to get some fresh air, maybe go on a drive and get some food, anything to get out of the house and clear my head. I need to talk to one of my girls. The first one who comes to my mind is Valentina, because she too has been through the same thing. She’ll understand where I’m coming from, and how I feel. I send her a message:

  Are you free? I need to chat to someone about something. Coffee?

  A few seconds later, she replies.

  Always free when a friend needs me. Name the place and time and I’ll be there.

  I type back.

  I’m leaving now Café on the corner of Cedar Road.

  Getting in the car now.

  God, she’s such a good friend.

  I’m walking to my car, keys in hand, when I feel a thump, and everything goes black.

  I OPEN MY EYES and sit up in a quick rush, wondering where the hell I am. What happened? Horror fills me as I look around the room, not sure what to expect. I rub the back of my head and the lump there, wincing as it starts to pound. I’m scared, but I try not to be.

  It will be okay, I tell myself.

  Be strong.

  What would one of the old ladies do? They’d fight with every ounce of energy they had in them, they’d try to outsmart whoever has brought me here, and then they’d kick their ass. I don’t think I’m capable of much
ass kicking, but fighting to save myself and not giving up, that I can do. That I’ve done before. I look around for anything I can use as a weapon, but the room has nothing but a bed. It’s not a dingy room, in fact it looks like an expensive hotel minus any furnishings. I have no idea who could have brought me here, or why, but I need to figure this out. I walk around the room, then try to open the door. Of course it’s locked, so I try to jam it a bit, then try to kick it down with no luck. Having already made a ruckus, I decide to go all out, and start banging on the door and yelling. At this point, I have nothing to lose. They’ve already planned whatever they want with me, and I doubt that’s going to change if I play nice.

  “Let me out!” I yell, trying to contain my panic.

  Darren once locked me inside our bedroom for two whole days. I had water from the en suite bathroom, and some snacks I’d had in my handbag, but he didn’t open the door in those two days, and he didn’t bother to give me any food. This feels like that, but worse. Better the devil you know. I knew where I stood with Darren, and although he was awful and cruel, I didn’t have to worry about being killed. Hurt, yes, killed no. These people may want to kill me. Or rape me. I don’t know.

  Jaxon is going to be so worried about me.

  Valentina too.

  I search for my phone but it was obviously taken from me. I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back and a bed to make do.

  Shit.

  I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

  I need to think.

  I look to the window and realize I haven’t tried that yet. When I open the curtains though, I see just how high up I am. This room must be on the top floor of a very large house. There’s no way I could jump, or even climb down. I could maybe throw something out, or yell and hope someone hears me. When I try to open the glass though, it’s locked. And the window is heavily tinted. No one from the outside will be able to see me. This person clearly thought of everything, and fear fills me as I think of all the possible outcomes for this situation. I run back to the door and return to banging on it.

  I don’t know what to do, but I’m not just going to sit on that fucking bed and wait to die.

  Suddenly, the door opens, and there’s a gun in my face, pointed right at me.

  Crap.

  “Don’t move,” she tells me, voice low and lethal. “Or I will blow your brains out.”

  I swallow, hard.

  Jaxon, I need you.

  chapter 43

  Jaxon

  MY PHONE KEEPS RINGING, but it’s an unsaved number, so I ignore it. All I want is to get home to Scarlett because she must be hungry. I had to work late tonight, and I saw her text as I was just getting in the car, so I stopped at the Chinese takeout and got something for the both of us. When my phone rings once more, I sigh and pick it up.

  “Jaxon Bentley,” I say into the line.

  The next words spoken send chills up my spine. “Jaxon, please tell me that Scarlett is with you.”

  “No, she’s not,” I say quickly, fear and worry consuming me. “I’m on my way home from work now. Who is this? Where is she?”

  “It’s Valentina,” she says, sounding worried. “Scarlett was meant to meet me for coffee about an hour ago, and she never showed up. I have a feeling something’s not right. Can you check if she’s at your house, then call me back?”

  It’s not like Scarlett to not show up anywhere. She’s always punctual, and this definitely doesn’t sound like her. “I’m almost home, I’ll call you back.”

  I speed the rest of the way home, park, and rush to the front door. Her car is here, so when I spot it, I hope she’s only on the couch, waiting for me with a smile. When I enter the house though, she’s nowhere to be seen. I start calling her name, and search every room. When I come up empty, I call her phone.

  It’s off.

  I call Valentina back. “She’s not here,” I say in a panic. “Fuck, where could she be, Valentina? I need to find her, now. It’s not like her to go somewhere without letting someone know. Her car is here, so unless she went for a walk somewhere . . . But at this time of night? Fuck, I don’t know.”

  “Fuck,” Valentina whispers. “I’m coming there with the men right now. We need to find her and make sure she’s okay. Stay there, Jaxon. I’ll be there in ten.”

  She hangs up and I walk out the front of the house, looking down the street, wondering if she’d go for a spontaneous walk and maybe lost her phone. If she did though, she would’ve been home in under an hour, no one walks longer than that. And if she lost her phone or dropped it and it broke, she’d come straight home. So this makes no sense. I hear the rumbles of the bikes before I see them. Two bikes. I tell you what, these men work fast, and the gratitude I feel for them showing up to help search for my woman will never be unappreciated. I see Demon get off his bike first, Valentina on the back, and he comes rushing over to me.

  “Any sign of her, brother?” he asks me.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Tell me everything,” he demands, in full cop mode.

  “She messaged me asking me to bring dinner. Valentina said she planned to meet up with her for coffee but never showed, and she’s nowhere to be found. Her car is here, Demon, so I don’t know where she could have gone.”

  “Fuck,” he grits out. The other man climbs off his bike and comes to stand next to Demon. I recognize him as the president of the WDMC, a man known as Arrow. Why is he here? Either way, I’m grateful for the help.

  Valentina comes up to stand next to me. “What do we do?” she asks us. “Something’s not right, I can feel it.”

  Demon looks to me. “Do you have cameras in your house?”

  He knows I do. “Yeah, but the only view we get is the backyard, the sides of the house, and the front door.”

  “Let’s see what we can do with that,” Arrow says, looking at me. “Can you let us in? We’ll try to get any clues to see what happened to her.”

  I nod.

  He looks to Demon, and says, “I’ll do a ride around the block. Valentina can you go talk to the neighbors and see if they saw anything? They might be friendlier if a woman shows up instead of Demon or me.” He pauses, but then adds, “And, Valentina, you come right back here, you hear me? Anything happens to you, and Irish will fight out of prison with his bare hands and kill the lot of us.”

  “I will,” she says, saluting him.

  He nods and leaves, without another word. Valentina disappears next door.

  “Come on, let’s see what we can find on the cameras,” Demon says, storming toward the house. I open my laptop and show him the footage. It shows her leaving but as soon as she walks out onto the lawn where her car is, we lose sight of her.

  Fuck.

  “Demon, fuck!”

  “I told you to update your security,” he tells me, making me want to punch him. He did tell me that, but now is not the time to rub it in my face.

  “Don’t,” I growl at him, letting him know not to push me any further. “Don’t even fucking go there.”

  Valentina returns about ten minutes later, worry written all over her face.

  “She told me she needed to talk about something,” she says to me. “Something was weighing on her mind. Why wouldn’t she have made it to the café?”

  She wanted to talk to Valentina about something? Was there something wrong? It’s odd that she didn’t mention meeting up with Valentina in the first place, because she always sends me a message telling me what her plans are. None of it makes sense. None of it. Fuck, if something has happened to her, I’m not going to fucking survive it.

  “There’s a message on your voice mail,” Demon notices. “What if it’s from her?”

  I walk over to the machine and press PLAY. When I hear my mom’s voice, I shake my head at him, but then when I hear the content of the message, I c
ringe.

  “Fuck.”

  I can’t believe my mom said all that, and that Scarlett would have heard it. No wonder she wanted to vent to Valentina.

  “And that’s why she would have wanted to see you,” I tell her, cursing under my breath. “Fuck, she must have been upset.”

  “Well, unless she went to murder your mom, it still doesn’t explain where she vanished to,” Demon says, moving to search the house.

  “We have nothing to go on,” I tell him, hoping one of them have some kind of epic plan, because I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight. I’m not at my usual level headedness. “Should I call the police?”

  “Not just yet,” Arrow advises me as he walks back into the house. “This isn’t our first rodeo, Jaxon. If we can’t find her, I doubt the lazy-ass cops can.”

  I look to where Demon is, walking around and looking for any sign of a struggle, or a clue that can help, like any good cop would. Not all cops are lazy.

  We walk out the front.

  “Do you know a woman of this description?” Valentina asks me. She hands me a piece of paper with dot points she’s jotted down. “Your neighbor across the road saw a woman with this description surveying your house.”

  I read them, they aren’t much to go by: shoulder-length brown hair, tight clothing, short.

  I read them all three times, and then it hits me who it could be.

  “There’s only one woman who I could think would have any vendetta against me and Scarlett, and she fits this description,” I tell them.

  “Give us her name, now,” Arrow demands, looking to Demon, probably ready to bark out orders, which I appreciate.

  “Sharon Beetle.”

  “The TV presenter?” Valentina asks, brow furrowing. “What does she have against Scarlett? How does she even know who she is?”