The Rogue Hunter (11 page)

Worse yet, while she'd been killing herself at work and doing everything around the house, he'd been running around whining that he wasn't happy, that she worked too many hours, that he hated their house with all its "time-consuming needs," and so on.

"It's been more than six months, Sam," Jo said gently, distracting her from the distressing memories.

"Yeah." Alex nudged her from the other side. "What are you planning to do? Swear off men and join a convent?"

"Maybe," Sam said, thinking the idea wasn't without merit. Honestly, men could be such a pain. The lawyers she worked with all seemed to be selfish, greedy, demanding bastards. Not unlike Tom.

"Tom was a jerk," Alex said abruptly. "Don't let him put you off men."

"I thought you liked him," she said with surprise.

Alex made a face. "He was all right at first, but by the end I was ready to strangle him myself."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Really? You never said anything."

"How could I?" she asked helplessly. "You were with him forever. Everyone thought the two of you would marry. I mean, you were talking marriage after graduation, but then you got that job and were so busy and put it off and the two of you just moved in together…" She shrugged and then shook her head. "I couldn't make you uncomfortable by telling you I thought you could do better. But I kept hoping and praying you'd see what an egotistical little jackass he was."

"Egotistical little jackass?" Sam echoed with a slow smile.

"Definitely," she said firmly. "He was envious as hell when you were approached by Babcock, Hillier, and Bundy. Everyone else was happy, and he claimed he was too, but you could see the resentment and bitterness on his face that it was you and not him. He was miserable about it and set out to make you miserable too."

"Really?" Sam asked, almost eagerly. She'd been obsessing over her broken relationship ever since it had ended. While she'd been angry and resentful of Tom's behavior, his insults to her attractiveness and womanliness at the end of their relationship had still hit home and left their mark. Her logical mind had reasoned that if he'd loved her enough and found her attractive enough and wanted to keep her, surely he would have tried a little harder? Surely he would have helped out. The logical answer to that question was that she had somehow been lacking and not worth his expending the effort to keep her. She truly hadn't been "woman enough," as he claimed.

"I don't think Mortimer is anything like Tom," Alex added suddenly.

Sam stiffened. She wasn't ready to get back into a relationship. She didn't want to be told, once again, that she wasn't good enough, or didn't give enough, or was insecure and needy when she tried to get her mate to help out. She needed time to lick her wounds and rebuild her self-esteem, because—sadly enough—she'd allowed Tom to take that from her. She, who had been top of her class in high school, and on the dean's list in university. She, who had worked her butt off and earned her law degree and got a much-sought-after job… She had achieved all that on her own, and yet eight months of living with Tom had taken away her sense of achievement, her belief in herself, and left her feeling like an unattractive, useless drudge.

Sam didn't know how that had come to pass. It wasn't like she could point to a day when he walked up and snatched it from her. It had been a gradual process; one incident after another, one letdown after another. Refrain after refrain, it had built up into an entire song—the "You Ain't Good Enough" blues.

"And Mortimer's cute," Jo said, drawing her out of her thoughts and making her mouth tighten.

"So was Tom," she pointed out dryly, and could feel both of her sisters staring at her, suddenly silent. After a moment, they both turned their attention to watching the people around them, and Sam let her breath out on a slow sigh as they let the subject drop. She was grateful for it. She was better on her own for now, Sam thought firmly. She would concentrate on her career, climb her way up the totem pole, and maybe go out dancing at the clubs once in a while with her sisters or friends to let off a little steam.

"Where are we going?" Mortimer asked when Bricker led him all the way across the sand and right out of the group of par tiers onto a path through the trees.

"Decker found someone with bite marks," Bricker announced over his shoulder. "At least we think they're bite marks, but we needed a flashlight to see it better. I told him you have a penlight. You do have it, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." Mortimer reached into his pocket for the small penlight he always carried with him. It had come in handy countless times over the years, and he often wondered that none of the other enforcers bothered to get one. Maybe he'd get Bricker one for Christmas, he thought absently as he followed him into a small clearing where Decker waited with a young blond woman who looked no more than eighteen. Obviously presently being controlled, she stood docilely, her expression blank.

"We've read her thoughts, but he's blanked them, of course," Decker announced as Mortimer stopped in front of the blond, switched on his penlight, and ran it quickly over her neck until it landed on the bite marks.

"Of course," he murmured, peering at the marks for a moment before announcing, "They're fresh."

"How fresh?" Decker asked, crowding up next to him to see the small marks under the penlight's beam for himself.

"Like minutes-old fresh," Mortimer said dryly. "Our rogue is at the party, or he was."

Decker frowned. "He might have fed and fled."

"Would one be enough?" Bricker asked, drawing their questioning glances. "I mean, she's the only one we've found with bite marks. Would that be enough to satisfy him?" His gaze shifted to the girl's face. "She doesn't look overly pale. Do you think he took enough from this one that he'll stop and leave now, or might we be able to catch him in the act?"

Mortimer shifted the small beam of the penlight to the girl's face, taking in her relatively healthy color, before shining it on her eyes to examine them. "It doesn't look like he took much at all. If he's not supplementing with bagged blood, then he'll definitely have to hit more than this one, if he hasn't already."

They all turned and glanced back toward the light and laughter.

"They're like sheep in the field with a wolf among them," Bricker murmured.

Chapter Six

"I wonder what they're looking for?"

Sam glanced at Jo with bewilderment when she murmured that comment. "Who?"

"Bricker and Decker," Jo explained. "They're checking out everyone, almost as if they're looking for someone."

"Yeah, the easy chick in the group," Sam said dryly.

Jo gave her a dirty look. "You are such a cynic. I don't think they're like that."

"Oh?" Sam said dubiously, and Jo turned back to survey the crowd, an irritated expression on her face.

"You could just use him," Alex blurted suddenly.

Sam turned a confused expression to her. "Who?"

"Mortimer," she explained.

"I should
use
him?" she asked with amazement.

"I don't mean
use
use him," Alex said quickly. "I mean just…"

"I think she means just have fun with him," Jo said helpfully. "You know, a little dancing, a little smooching, maybe some hot monkey sex to help you get over Tom."

"Hot monkey sex?" Sam choked out.

"Oh come on," Alex chided. "You're a liberated career woman. What's wrong with hot monkey sex with no strings attached? It's like riding a bike. You've fallen off, now you need to get back on and ride another one."

Sam gaped with horror. "I don't—He's not—I—"

Alex interrupted her stammerings to say, "Do not even try to tell me you don't like him. I've seen you looking at him, and you were sniffing him when he was fixing your arm.
And
the two of you were laughing up a storm while packing the cooler with beer and cola."

"And he's cute too," Jo inserted. "He makes me think of that soccer player from Britain."

Sam stared at her blankly, but she was thinking about what Alex had said about them laughing up a storm while packing the cooler. She and Mortimer had been assigned that task while Alex and Jo had rushed around inside the cottage gathering jackets and shoes for the girls, and Bricker and Decker had returned to their cottage to do the same. Mortimer had annoyed her by insisting on retrieving the fish baskets from the water to prevent her falling in, only to lose his balance as he leaned off the dock and nearly go in himself. Somehow the tension between them had been broken then and they'd teased and joked as they worked.

"You know who I mean," Jo said with a grimace of frustration. "He's married to that woman from that girl band."

"Oh yes! I do know who you mean!" Alex exclaimed, and then frowned. "Can't remember the name though."

Sam relaxed a little and laughed at the pair of them.

She knew exactly who they were talking about, the new player for Galaxy in America. He and his wife were making a big splash on the celebrity scene. But she had no intention of putting her sisters out of their misery. They were making her suffer enough.

Though, Sam admitted to herself slowly, Mortimer did actually look a bit like the Brit in question. Just a bit though. His features were more chiseled, and his eyes a beautiful green that appeared silvered when the light hit them. Mortimer definitely had gorgeous eyes, she admitted, and then realized what she was thinking and gave herself a mental shake.

"It doesn't matter," Jo decided. "The point is he's a hottie, a veritable McSteamy."

"Yes he is," Alex agreed. "You should use him to get over Tom. Tom couldn't hold a candle to this guy."

"I bet he's hot in bed too," Jo added.

Sam closed her eyes, shook her head, and then popped her eyes open again and said, "I cannot believe you're even suggesting this. How much beer have you had tonight?"

"Two," Jo answered promptly and held up her almost full bottle. "It'll be three after this one."

"You didn't use to be such a cheap drunk," Sam muttered.

"I've changed my mind," Alex announced suddenly. "I don't think you should have a fling with Mortimer."

Sam swiveled to peer at her in question and asked warily, "I shouldn't?"

"She shouldn't?" Jo echoed with disappointment.

"No, you definitely shouldn't," Alex said firmly.

"Why?" Jo asked.

"I don't think she can handle it. She's too much a virgin," Alex explained.

"A virgin!" Sam cried with outrage. "Tom and I had sex the first time way back in high school. God! I lived with him for eight months."

"Yes. Practically a virgin," Alex repeated and peered at her seriously. "Sam honey, you
are
. Tom was the first and only boy you went out with. You haven't ever dated anyone else. I don't even know if you
can
just have a fling. You might not have the right emotional makeup for it."

"I could fling," Sam assured her firmly and then realized what she was saying, and added, "If I wanted to." She didn't want to have a fling with Mortimer. Did she?

Before she could answer herself, the man in question returned. He paused at the cooler to collect a beer, and then moved to the log. Jo immediately scooted sideways to make room for him, and he reclaimed his position between them.

"Everything all right?" Alex leaned forward to ask around Sam.

"Oh yes, fine," he assured her, unscrewing the cap of the Alexander Keith's beer he'd selected from the cooler. "Pimms just wanted me to meet someone."

"Oh yes, fine," he assured her, unscrewing the cap of the Alexander Keith's beer he'd selected from the cooler.

"Pimms," Sam echoed. It was the first time she could recall him calling Decker by his last name, but Mortimer and Bricker seemed to go exclusively by their own last names. She and her sisters had automatically followed the men's lead in doing so, but Sam was curious about it and asked, "Why do you and Bricker go by your last names?"

Mortimer appeared surprised by the question, and then considered it briefly before shrugging. "I'm not sure. We just always have."

"It's a guy thing," Jo announced knowledgeably. "The guys at the bar tend to do that too, either using each other's last names or a nickname like Moose." She wrinkled her nose as she said the name.

"So, how did you guys get together?" Alex now leaned forward to ask Mortimer.

He hesitated and then said, "We met on a job."

"A job?" Sam asked with interest.

Mortimer shrugged. "We weren't always in a band."

"What did you do before you were in a band?" Jo asked, never shy about being nosy. When Mortimer hesitated, she grinned and said, "Come on, it can't be that bad."

When he merely shifted uncomfortably, she added, "Shall I guess?"

That made his eyebrows rise and amusement tug at his lips. "Be my guest."

"You'll tell us if I guess right?" Jo bargained.

A definite smile claiming his lips now, he nodded. "If you get it right. But you won't."

"That was a mistake," Sam told him as he raised his beer to his lips and took a swallow. "Jo loves a challenge."

"Yes I do," she agreed with a grin and then gained a more serious expression and said thoughtfully, "Hmm. Let me see. A job you were all on and that would bring together two men from California, and one from Toronto… I've got it! You were all Chippendale dancers!"

The mouthful of golden liquid he'd just taken into his mouth suddenly shot out again at the very suggestion. Wiping his mouth, Mortimer turned horrified eyes to Jo. "Chippendale dancers?"

"Sure. You're all good-looking guys, well-built, and each handsome enough in his own way." She shrugged, still grinning widely. "Am I right?"

"God, no!" he assured her. "I wouldn't even think of doing such a job."

"That's a shame," Alex murmured on Sam's other side, and despite how softly she said the words, Mortimer apparently heard because he actually blushed.

Sam bit her lip and quickly turned her head away to try to keep her composure. He was just so darned adorable when he blushed.

"Well," Jo said, "I was thinking that only something else in the entertainment industry could bring together three men who lived so far away from each other… Where exactly did you meet? L.A. or Toronto?"