Saint James, Elle - Unbridled and Unhitched [The Double Rider Men's Club 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (25 page)

Already more familiar with the kitchen, Valentina volunteered to make them some hot tea when Alexis told her she wasn’t ready for the day to be over.

“I will make the tea. You should go put on that dress you bought. Jackson and Derek will like it very much, I think.”

Alexis had borrowed Jackson’s credit card and purchased a scandalous dress she was sure both he and Derek would love. This one would not only need tape to hold it in place, she likely wouldn’t be able to move more than two steps without her nipples playing peekaboo. “Seriously, I’d be too embarrassed to wear it around the house. What if a traveling salesman came to the door?”

Valentina shook her head. “Clay does not allow anyone on the property. Especially not traveling salesmen. You will be fine.”

She shook her head. “Still, I’ll just go up and get it ready for later on tonight.”

“For your serious talk?” she asked inquisitively.

Valentina knew what the subject of the discussion was tonight for Alexis, Jackson, and Derek. She just didn’t know what Alexis had decided about whether to stay or go. The truth was, Alexis didn’t know yet, either.

“Yes. I wish I knew what was going to happen.” She laughed nervously.

“It will be fine. You will see. I believe you should stay. But that is because I like you, and we are already good friends.” She smiled and put a kettle of water on the stove to heat. “Also, my Aunt Sonya always told me, ‘Live for today, because you do not know what tomorrow will bring.’ I have always found this to be true.”

Alexis nodded. “I know. It would be great to stay here. It’s just hard to give up everything I know and everything I’ve worked so hard for back home. Then again, I look at either Jackson or Derek and I know I will miss them like leaving a limb behind.”

“Change is difficult. I know this, but I will also miss you. It is good to have someone who understands when I talk about my job with pharmaceuticals. ”

Alexis nodded. “I would miss you, too.”

Valentina interrupted the emotional moment by straightening her back and clearing her throat. “Go put your things away. I will tend to the tea. When you come back I will talk you into staying.”

“That might not be too difficult.” Alexis grabbed her shopping bags and went up the stairs. The second she was in her bedroom the front doorbell rang. She immediately thought of the earlier conversation involving her wearing the peekaboo dress if someone came to the door, and smiled, glad she hadn’t already put on the outrageous dress.

She walked back out of the bedroom and leaned over the railing to look down into the living room just in time to see Valentina headed to the foyer.

“Don’t let in any traveling salesmen,” she called out. She heard Valentina’s laughter travel up to the top of the stairs with the sound of the front door opening.

Too late, Alexis saw the nose of a long-barreled gun pointed at Valentina’s chest. The sound of a loud pop might as well have been a shot to her own heart. She paused on the stairs frozen in fright and trying to remember how to breathe.

Valentina fell backward on to the foyer floor and didn’t move.

Chapter Sixteen

Clay had a really bad feeling. The dread burrowed all the way to his bones. Something wasn’t right, but he was damned if he could figure it out. It was probably just the new propane-tank guy on his mind.

Jackson and Derek were antsy to leave. He knew why. Alexis was probably leaving tomorrow. Whether or not she came back was the question of the day.

Across the room, the alarm on his computer went off, and Jackson and Derek stood as if the disturbance was an excuse to escape. Clay gave them a dirty look. “We aren’t done yet.”

“No. You aren’t done. We were ready to be done half an hour ago.”

“Don’t move.” Clay went to his computer and brought it up. It was an e-mail message blazing the alert over and over.

He read it quickly once. The dread became fearful anger as he scanned the message once more. His friend in law enforcement in Las Vegas had summarized the bulletin.

From the Las Vegas Federal Criminal Taskforce then forwarded from local police headquarters: Virgil Watkins, the asshole who terrorized your friend Alexis, has apparently escaped from custody. You already know that he was visibly pissed in the arraignment that his lawyer couldn’t get him bail this time. Guess he figured his time for freedom was over and took off the first chance he got.

Unfortunately, it happened late the day before, but local cops just got word. There had been a statewide manhunt all last night and today at the federal level. They hadn’t bothered to notify local police until a few minutes ago, when all their leads had panned out and additional help was requested. Sorry not to get this to you sooner. R.

Clay’s friend in Las Vegas had just now been told, and had forwarded the information in a paraphrased form.

“Fuck,” Clay fairly growled in frustration. He started running searches to see if he could locate him.

Angered that almost an entire day had gone by before the notification had gone out, Clay knew that Virgil could already be out of the state of Nevada by now. There was at best only a remote chance of the asshole being able to find out where Jackson and Derek lived, but his instinct said he should marshal his forces and surround their house.

He called the front gate. “Hey, lock down the front gate. Only members in or out with identification. Also send a couple guys to my security building.”

“What is wrong with you?” he heard Jackson ask.

He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Virgil Watkins escaped from custody last night. They did a statewide manhunt and still can’t find him.”

Derek’s hands fisted automatically. “There is no way he could find us here, right?”

Clay turned and said, “I sincerely doubt it, but I’m not sure what information his high-priced lawyer might have given him. Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to do my own property-wide search. You two go on home. I’ll check in with you later.”

Jackson and Derek didn’t even say farewell. They just rushed out of the security office.

Clay didn’t blame them. The dread he’d felt earlier hung with him. He wouldn’t be satisfied until every square inch of their vast property had been checked out and cleared.

The first thing planned to do was get rid of the
new
propane guy. He’d personally escort “Joe” out and then begin his extensive search of the property, just to be on the safe side.

* * * *

Alexis, heart in her throat, plastered herself against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the top step of the staircase. Below the handrail and through the openings between the balustrades, Alexis saw a man enter holding the gun. He stepped over her friend. She couldn’t see his face, and that scared her even more. He didn’t bother closing the door, and Valentina’s limp body was blocking the door anyway.

Her fight-or-flight adrenaline kicked in, and she scrambled along the floor in the opposite direction of her bedroom. There was a three-story drop from her picture windows. No way out in that direction. Even after a week of living here, Alexis wasn’t completely acquainted with every square inch of this house.

From childhood, her absolutely least favorite game had been hide-and-seek. She never knew where to hide, and consequently had usually been the first of the hiders found. Where else was a good place to hide in this house and not be found by the stranger with the gun?

Good place to hide or not, panic sent her fleeing as quietly as possible into the hallway bathroom. She shut the door softly and locked it, but in her heart of hearts knew this would obviously be the first place the stranger came looking for her.

The terror of this situation overwhelmed her, but a tiny voice inside wondered who this was. Why had he come to this house to harm anyone? The man in Las Vegas had been arrested and held, right?

Alexis searched the room for another place to hide, knowing that this had been a foolish place to go. She was trapped. The memory of Valentina falling backward to the floor made tears fall uselessly from her eyes. Crying wouldn’t help.

She opened the window and stuck her head out, but the drop was two stories, if she could even get up enough courage to jump. Shimmying out of a second-story window aside, heights also weren’t her favorite things in the world. Alexis didn’t imagine she’d get out through the window.

She opened the linen closet door and found salvation in the form of the laundry chute. She knew it went to the basement. Derek had boasted that he made sure the structure was strong enough for a quick getaway and that he’d already tested it. Twice. Alexis had laughed at the time, thinking that needing a fast escape was improbable.

She wasn’t laughing now. She pulled the chute wide and climbed up to get her feet inside the opening. Just as she was about to launch herself downward, there was a light knock at the door. She paused at the lunacy of answering the knock of a strange, gun-wielding madman.

“Alexis. Don’t worry. It’s me. I’ve been so worried about you.” That very unexpected yet familiar voice sent a tickle of unease down her spine. Even though by now she should have been used to it, she wondered what in the world was Brett Bogner doing here.

* * * *

Clay followed Jackson and Derek out of his security building. They took off on the way to their house while he waited for his men to show up so they could canvas the area to ensure nothing was amiss. Two of his best guys arrived promptly from the east where the front gate resided. They reported no contact or disturbance along the way.

Feeling like the east side was covered, Clay gave them instructions to split up, check the southern and western parts of the property, and to report in every thirty minutes. He’d take the northern area himself and hurry the propane guy along.

His supreme feeling of dread returned instantly when he drove up to where the propane tank was housed. It was partly because he still retained the vivid memory of flying through the air when a faulty regulator on the old propane tank had exploded a while back. He’d just happened by, and boom. He remembered hitting the tree. He remembered falling to his back and hoping he wasn’t about to die.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital emergency room with a mild concussion and scrapes and scratches everywhere. Just seeing the propane tank on any given day made that memory surface immediately.

The service truck was parked where it usually was, but he didn’t see the guy working. Was he in the truck? Clay peeked in the front window, but he wasn’t there. Where the hell was he? Taking a leak in the woods?

Clay looked around and then went to the back of his truck. He looked in the small back window and the feeling of tread on his “oh-fuck-o-meter” went straight into the maximum red zone.

There was a guy dressed only in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, that Clay sincerely hoped was unconscious and not dead, crumpled in the back of the van.

He immediately called the front gate and ordered an ambulance as he popped opened the back doors of the van to check the guy’s pulse. He had one, thankfully. The identification badge from Joe’s now missing uniform rested as if discarded on the floor of the van. He picked it up and compared it to the unconscious man. It looked exactly like him. That meant someone else had his uniform. Fuck.

That wasn’t good. A glance closer into the back of the service van made Clay notice a large empty cabinet with the doors swinging open toward the front passenger side of the van. It was plenty large enough for an average-sized man. Shit. Someone was loose on the property.

He quickly recalled his men to the propane tank’s location and told them to wait for the ambulance. They hadn’t completed their searches, but also hadn’t seen anyone wondering around in a jumpsuit or service uniform.

Clay didn’t want to leave the injured guy alone, but with his clothes gone, that meant some audacious fuck was wandering around on the property under false pretenses. Clay almost pitied the idiot, if he got to the bastard first.