The Complete Series Boxed Set (48 page)

“That’s one angle I hadn’t thought of.” Laura’s voice turned from despondent to pensive.

“In the end, it’s all about love,” Josie said, feeling like a Hallmark card.

“Love. Right.”
Laura made a dismissive noise. “Then why is this so hard?”
 

“Because love is never enough.”

“Thanks, Ms. Merry Sunshine.”

Josie smiled even though Laura couldn’t see it. “I don’t mean that love isn’t amazing. Just that it’s work. Hard work. And when you do the hard work together, you create even more love.”

Laura went silent. Seconds ticked by, making Josie wonder if she’d said the wrong thi
ng
.

A long exhale, and then:

“The Beatles had it wrong.”

“Can we go anywhere
but
Jeddy’s for once?” Alex asked in a voice that
brooked
no argument. “
I do not relish hearing Madge talk about the latest unicorn butt plug she bought.”
 

“How about we just talk while we lift? Blow out our bodies then hang in the sauna?” Dylan answered as he finished putting
forty-fives
on the olympic bar, locking in a good
three hundred
pounds for squats.
To start.
 

“They have a killer smoothie bar here, too,” Mike added.

“What about an espresso bar?” Alex asked.

Dylan forced himself to take a deep, invigorating breath. Nothing like being in a gym to give you the feeling like you
we
re swimming through testosterone soup. He considered himself a fairly strong guy, but felt like a wimp as he took a good look around the
room
.

H
e was smack-dab average.

“
You need protein and amino acids after you blow out your quads, dude,” Mike said, wiping his face with a hand towel. He’d looked like he’d just gone for a five-mile sprint in the rain, and his biceps bulged, veins like extension cords slid under tanned skin.
 

“And caffeine,” Alex answered mildly.

Dylan laughed. “Last thing you want after you puke your guts out from doing squats is caffeine.”

Alex began to fidget nervously, making Dylan laugh inside. Laura and Josie joked about Dr.
P
erfect and how unflappable he was. Good to see the man could be rattled.

Without having to run into a parking sign to do it.

The scar above Alex’s eye was mild, but Dylan could
find
it easily, and as Mike eased into the squat cage, Alex spotting him, Dylan marveled at how different life was now for everyone.

Every damn one of them.

Including Frank.

Mike made it through seven squats before Dylan and Alex helped lift the bar for him. Alex too
k
some of the weight off and did his own lunges, making it through three sets of increasing weight, though never reaching Mike’s power.

Dylan, on the other hand, blew Mike out of the water.

“How in the hell does he
do
that?” Dylan heard Alex’s voice rise with surprise.

“He
eats his Wheaties
,” Mike joked. Dylan was shorter than Mike but came damn close to matching him in weight, muscled body holding so much restrained molecular power. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t grin—as much as he wanted to—but instead popped back up to rack the bar and move slowly until the black
p
inpricks left his vision.

The adrenaline rush was worth it.

Gotta love endorphins. Even the one
s
that d
id
n’t involve sex.

But
especially
the ones that
d
id
involve sex.

Guzzling half his bottle of water, Dylan took in the room while Mike racked weights for Alex, who had something to prove.

“You okay, doc?” Dylan joked. “Don’t want you to tear a nail on those surgeon’s hands.”
H
e actually liked Alex. Stand-up guy. But he had to bust his balls a little, right? The three of them spent so much time chatting at Jeddy’s and being directed by women that it was good to be in a man’s world (female lifters excepted). Even just for a few hours.

“You’re the one who was a model, Dylan,” Alex said in a low voice as he bent down in the squat cage, squaring his shoulders under the bar and wrapping his wrists up to put his palms, then fingers, on the gnarled metal. “You know more about buffed nails and body paint than I do.”

Mike’s howl of laughter seemed to fuel Alex, and damn if the guy didn’t come a little too close for comfort to Dylan’s highest weight and rep set. Shit. He needed to up his game and lift more.

Staggering out of the cage after two sets and a failed rep that required Mike and Dylan to grab the pole, Alex looked purple. Little broken blood vessels around his eyes told Dylan the guy had been saving face. Ah, damn.

“You pushed too hard,” Mike said quietly, careful not to let any of the other lifters in the gym hear.

Alex nodded as he suc
k
ed down water Mike had mixed with an electrolyte solution. “I know. Stupid,” he added, shaking his head. “But look who I’m lifting with.”

Mike and Dylan nodded. They got it.

You had to at least try.

They grabbed their car keys and phones from the little cubbies in the free-weight room. The walk to the smoothie bar made Dylan feel like he was marching on down-filled pillows, the push of blood to the surface of his skin such a fucking awesome rush. He could forget about anything in those moments of extraordinary strength.

Anything except Frank.

Smoothies ordered, the trio drank more water and rested on barstools at the juice counter.

Bzzz
. Alex jumped and felt his own ass like a man going off
to
prison and touching a woman for the last time in his life. Frantic and weirdly rushed.

“What the fuck?” a disembodied man’s voice muttered.

“Is that me?” Alex hissed. “I’m on call for a case.”

“Me,” Dylan said, grabbing his phone. A swipe and—score!

“Nick’s report!” Dylan crowed as a tray filled with large shake glasses teeming with greenish-grey sludge w
as
delivered to them.

“
What’s in there?” Alex asked Mike as Dylan read the email from the private investigator:
 

D
ylan,

See attached.

Nick

“Talkative guy,” Mike mumbled as Dylan opened the
PDF
, turning his phone sideways so they could read the tiny print a little bit better.

The report was astounding. Arrest records in one, two, three—Dylan couldn’t keep up—states, all for fraud or larceny or petty theft. Most involved cons, which didn’t surprise him. Frank set up fake charities and scammed people. Frank trained a fleet of kids to steal dogs and waited for the owners to post a reward and brought them back, caught only when one of the kids stole the same dog twice and Frank showed up again for a reward.

And then—

Mike’s low whistle pierced the juice counter’s sitting area. “He defrauded an heiress?”

“
Don’t forget the DUIs,” Alex added, pointing to the screen. “In one…two…three different states?”
 

“You would never guess,” Dylan said, handing off the phone to Mike and drinking half his smoothie in one series of gulps. The cold, slightly chalky drink made him crave coffee suddenly.

Damn Alex. He was right.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked Dylan,
mesmerized
by what he was reading on the phone’s screen.

“Frank. He’s so…slick. Smooth. Like a well-preserved middle-aged man. More George Clooney than Bernie Madoff, you know?”

“Bernie Madoff was pretty damn slick, too. Fooled a lot of smart people,” Mike said.

“True. Frank’s just—he seems above a DUI. Or stealing dogs.” Dylan shook his head. “Who the hell steals someone’s dog for money?”

“The same kind of guy who sniffs out his niece after she’s settled into a great life with two billionaires,” Alex pointed out.

Dylan felt like a balloon with a slow leak.

“At least we know now,” Mike added. He pointed to the phone. “We need to print that out and study it. I’ll bring it to our lawyer and get his opinion. And we need to talk to Laura about it.”

“No!” Dylan could imagine it all seven steps ahead, how Laura would freak out, the way she’d feel guilty again, then angry, how this information would give them a leg up when it came to dealing with Frank but, really, no new answers. They’d suspected Frank was a slimeball. Nick’s report confirmed it.

“Why not?” Mike and Alex asked in unison.

“Is there anything violent in there?”
h
e asked rheto
r
ically. Mike shook his head. “Nothing about kids?”

“Other than acting like
Fagin
from Oliver Twist
and gathering a bunch of street urchins to go out and steal people’s dogs, no,” Alex said, scrolling through the report.

“Good. Then he’s just a garden-variety con man. He doesn’t want custody of Jillie. He wants money. He can threaten and cajole, tease and manipulate, and mindfuck Laura, but he can’t really do anything.”

Mike looked at him, jaw tight. “Good points.”

“Frank is the kind of guy who gets other people to do his bidding for him. He comes in for the kill when it suits him, and he’s looking for easy pickings. He’s not going to sweat. He’s not going to push and persevere. Once things get difficult, he’s outta there. Look,” Dylan said, taking the phone from Alex, “at what he’s actually done. He finds a way to prey on other people’s emotions and then gets what he can when they’re weak.”

“We’re not weak,” Mike protested.

“But Laura is,” Dylan explained. “She’s a lot stronger than she was years ago, but Frank has this ability to find some sweet part of her that wants to be good, and liked, and loved. And he plucks it like a banjo, damn it.”

“You’re right,” Mike said, clearly hating that it was true.

“Then you need to figure out his weakness, and his price. Pair them together,” Alex declared.

M
ike gave Alex a look of calculated admiration. “That’s smart. But how?”

“First, I’d call your lawyer and have him review that.” Alex pointed to the phone. “Then, find out how you can buy Frank off while making a subtle threat.”

Dylan’s eyebrow arched. “Threat?”

“A subtle one. Nothing too specific. Does he have any outstanding warrants anywhere?”

“You seem to know an awful lot about the criminal mind,” Dylan said with a mock-suspicious tone.

Alex laughed. “You get interviewed by cops in the ER often enough, you pick up a few things.”

“
T
hreaten Frank with being ratted out wherever he might have warrants, give him some money, and—”

Dylan was cut off my Mike’s joyful whoop. “Yes! An outstanding warrant for failure to appear in court for a DUI.
I
n Connecticut,” Mike hissed.

Alex’s eyes shone with glee. “You got him. Nail the bastard. Give him a small check and a big hint that you know about Connecticut and that asshole will be gone, quick. He doesn’t care about Laura or Jillian.” His eyes clouded with some emotion Dylan didn’t quite understand, but he suddenly had the sense that they weren’t only talking about Frank.

Mike grabbed his own phone and autodialed his lawyer. “On it already.”

Dylan raised his empty glass to Alex. “To finding someone’s weakness and exploiting it.”

Alex thought for a second, then said, “No. To stopping the assholes who use that technique against good people.”

Dylan could drink to
that
.
 

Jeddy’s it was. At the rate they ate here, Mike was seriously considering making Madge an offer on the place. Owning a restaurant wasn’t high on his list of life goals, but maybe they could build an apartment over it and never have to cook again.

“What are you smirking about?” Dylan asked as he shoved hip-first into the booth, knocking against Mike’s elbow.

“Shit!” Mike hissed as hot coffee slid over the webbing of his thumb. He set the coffee cup down quickly and sucked on the heated flesh.

“Sorry.” Dylan fished a few ice chips out of his water glass and handed them to Mike, wrapped in a flimsy napkin. The cold rush of the ice made Mike’s anger die down fast.

Laura watched from across the table, clearly amused. “You two are a well-oiled machine.”

Both of them looked up at her as she spooned a thick chunk of peanut-butter-sauce-covered vanilla ice cream into her mouth, rotating the spoon and licking it suggestively, pretending to deep-throat. Who knew a long sundae spoon could go
that
far in?

Mike’s pants tightened. Dylan shifted uncomfortably next to them. About that imaginary apartment upstairs…

“You auditioning for a p
or
n movie?” a rather unwelcome voice screeched from Mike’s right. Josie appeared, dragging a bemused Alex.

“I thought we were going to Kendall Square for a movie,”
Alex
said, brow furrowed, shooting dagg
e
rs at Josie.

“Food first.”

“But we’re miles from Kendall Square…” The look that passed between them made Mike sit up. Good thing he was capable now.

“Why are Josie and Alex here?” Mike asked Laura, who batted her eyelashe
s
and fished around her sundae glass for a cherry and proceeded to—

Oh, my…

“I can tie a knot in a cherry stem
with my tongue
, too, you know,” Josie said defensively.

Laura winked, her mouth contorting in several muscled direct
i
ons, all of which made Mike’s cock thicken.

Laura’s lips spread in a wide grin seconds later and she pulled the cherry stem out of her mouth.

Double knotted.

“Show-off,” Josie muttered.

“Marry me,” Dylan gasped.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Mike added.

“Speaking of marriage…” Laura said, making all four sets of eyes glue themselves to hers. Mike cocked one eyebrow, broke away from Laura, and looked pointedly at Dylan.