Chapter Twenty-Two
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C assie rubbed her tired , aching eyes and blew out a hard breath as she stood in her closet trying to figure out what to wear.
Yoga pants or sweats and her softest, coziest hoodie were calling to her from their shelf, but she could be summoned to a meeting with the cops or CPS at any time and would need to look presentable.
There was also the issue of her and Tristan, and she saw no way around it. She had to talk to Ryder and request that she and Tristan not be put on the same job anymore. It sucked, but she didn’t know how the hell else to navigate this mess she’d put herself in.
Yesterday had been a close call. Now he knew exactly how much she wanted him. She’d tried to warn him off. Tried like hell not to fall any deeper, but it was impossible. He wasn’t the kind of man to give up something he wanted.
That thrilled and terrified her at the same time.
Her phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. When she saw who the caller was, for a moment she thought about not answering. Then picked up. She and her mother hadn’t always been close, but their relationship was in a much better place now. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. Just phoning to see how you are. Feeling any better today?”
“I’m all right.” Oh, and by the way, someone tried to frame me for fucking a client on the job yesterday.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come over to the house for breakfast? We’d love to see you.”
“I really can’t, just too much going on right now. But I promise I’ll come over when things settle down.” Which hopefully would be any day now. Because she couldn’t keep living with this amount of stress.
“I understand.” Her mom’s tone made it clear she actually didn’t. “I wish I could help you.”
“Me too. But you helped by calling.”
“Aw, sweetie... I love you. You’re such a strong woman, and you’ve got us and Bristol, and a lot of other people who care about you. You’ll get through this and come out even stronger for it on the other side.”
Yep, if it didn’t kill her first. But honestly? She was sick to death of having to be so strong all the damned time. “Thanks, Mom. Love you too.” She ended the call, thinking about Tristan. Wrestling with her feelings.
They weren’t going away. Wouldn’t, no matter how hard she suppressed them.
Logically she knew she had to put last night behind her and move on without hurting him more. But her heart kept insisting it was already too late to turn back. That she couldn’t fight the inevitable, and would it really be so bad if she let him in?
“Yes, it would, and your whole track record proves it,” she muttered to herself, annoyed, sexually frustrated, half in love with him—if not deeper—and tired to her soul of the danger and stress going on in her life.
All morning she’d been fielding calls from the Seattle police and CPS about the incident with Schumacher at the hotel. CPS had hired Marley’s husband Warwick to investigate the hotel incident and get answers faster than the police. A full view of the security footage would prove it wasn’t her.
As if she’d conjured him, her phone rang, and his number appeared on screen. “Hey, Warwick.”
“Morning. Is this a good time?” he asked in his northern English accent. He always made a point of toning it down for her and most others. She’d heard him speak full Geordie a few times and had been utterly lost.
“Yes. Did you find anything?”
“I did.” He waited a beat. “The woman who entered Schumacher’s room was an escort. A very high-class, expensive one. She was booked through an exclusive agency, and the appointment was paid for in cash by a third party.”
The appointment. “Was it Schumacher?”
“Every bit of evidence points to him. Ryder’s scheduled a call with him this morning to confront him personally with it. If he tries to deny it, we’ll show him what we have. I reckon he’ll be motivated to come clean after that.”
Good. “Okay. I guess it’s a relief to know it wasn’t connected to the other incidents.” Not that it made her feel any better. This whole situation was just bizarre.
“Aye. I’ll update you if I find out more.”
“Thanks. Say hi to Marley.” She ended the call, feeling vindicated even though Ryder had said he believed the woman on video wasn’t her. But the slight, temporary boost to her mood didn’t last long.
Schumacher was a petty, narcissistic asshole who’d tried to deliver a personal blow because she’d rejected him. And speaking of narcissistic assholes with rejection sensitivity and an overall inability to manage emotions...
There was someone in particular from her past who would love to destroy her to get even.
But he was all about himself and couldn’t handle his self-aggrandized reputation being tarnished.
Given the blow he’d already sustained, she seriously doubted he would risk more prison time by attempting to target her.
With a hard exhalation, she pushed to her feet and rolled her head from side to side. Sitting here stressing and pining for Tristan wasn’t going to make anything better. She needed to get the hell out of the house and do something.
Exercise might give her a badly needed boost of serotonin. She loathed running, even if it was good for her. Far preferred hitting the elliptical or rowing machine at the office gym, but neither appealed to her right now.
Maybe she should beat the shit out of the heavy bag instead. God knew she wanted to hit something.
Or shoot something.
“Yeah,” she said to herself, then went to her closet and changed into her hoodie and yoga pants before snagging her keys on the way out the door. And no, she had not changed her alarm code. Tristan wasn’t the boss of her.
But you’d love him to be the boss of you in bed.
“Shut up,” she told her overzealous libido. Not helping. Imagining Tristan taking charge during sex made her go weak all over.
She made a mental note to thank whoever had brought her car back, and drove straight to the shooting range. After signing in, she took her sidearm inside the firing lane area. The place was empty. Even better.
Eye and ear protection on, she loaded her pistol, moved the target into position, and started shooting. One precise shot after the other until the magazine was empty. Focusing on accuracy rather than speed. Losing herself in her training, all her worries fading away into the background.
She paused to eject the magazine, then pulled back the slide to clear the chamber. She paused in the act of reaching for the loaded magazine she’d placed on the shelf when she spotted someone standing off to the side and slightly behind her.
She pulled off her earmuffs, startled. “Ivy. Hi.”
The brunette pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her. “Hey. Saw your car and thought you might be down here.”
“Just practicing.” Shooting was a perishable skill. And knowing someone was after her meant she needed to keep sharp.
“And blowing off steam.”
“That too.”
“Is it working?”
“A little, yeah.”
Ivy nodded, giving her a thoughtful look. “You’ve got a lot going on. And, not to sound patronizing, but I know how it feels. I’ve been there. Many times.”
Many times? “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Made me who I am today. With a little different look as a consequence,” she added, circling a finger at her face.
Cassie’s stomach clenched. Shit, she’d needed plastic surgery because of what had happened? “No.”
Ivy grinned in amusement. “It wound up being a bit of an improvement, actually. So, you talked to Warwick?”
“He called just before I came down here.”
“Schumacher was the only person involved. It’s actually a little impressive, how fast he was able to pull that together considering how drunk he was.”
“True.”
“He’ll pay more than cash for it, though. Cops are about to have a little talk with him. Soliciting an escort for sexual purposes is a Class A misdemeanor in Oregon. Punishable by fines and up to one year in jail.”
Cassie blinked. “You think he’ll—”
“Go to jail? Not a chance. Rich assholes almost never go to jail when they commit crimes.” Her smile was feral. “But I happen to specialize in dealing with rich assholes. So I know that losing money hurts them most. And Schumacher is about to lose enough to make him hurt bad .”
The look on Ivy’s face was unsettling, but awesome.
“What did you do?” she couldn’t help asking, fascinated and a little afraid.
It was hard to fathom quiet, mellow Walker being engaged to this woman.
They couldn’t be more opposite if they’d tried.
Did he know what Ivy got up to? He must. Or maybe he just looked the other way.
“I taught him a lesson no one else had the balls to. But don’t worry, the money’s going to a good cause. My sister Kiyomi runs a charity helping protect orphans against trafficking and abuse. I help her out with various things, including funding.”
Okay, she loved the female Robin Hood vibe happening here. “Well, that’s... Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” Ivy crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip, giving her an assessing look.
“I realize we don’t know each other that well, and it’s probably not my place, but I’m gonna ask anyway.
I get the feeling that this Schumacher stunt hit harder than the rest of it. Am I wrong?”
Cassie opened her mouth. Closed it. “No. I don’t know why, but it is.”
“Yes, you do.”
Ivy’s stare was unnerving, but not unkind. And it was clear she cared.
So Cassie thought about it. Decided she felt comfortable enough with her to dig deep and be brutally honest with herself as much as Ivy. “I guess deep down I’m worried that I got this job as a DEI hire, and with all this shit happening now, everyone thinks hiring me was a mistake.”
Ivy snorted. “Fuck that. You were hired by CPS because you were better than all the other candidates competing against you. End of story. You think Ryder, Walker or Callum give a shit about DEI when it comes to hiring bodyguards?” She shook her head.
“They hire the best candidates. Period. And in addition to your conduct and abilities, they also know you stood up for what was right. At great personal cost. That right there says everything anyone will ever need to know about your character.”
Cassie lowered her gaze, fighting a blush. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Did Walker ask you to come?”
“Nope. He thinks I’m out running errands. I just thought I’d check on you.” Ivy studied her a moment. “So, who would go to these lengths to target you? Someone from your past? Ex-partner maybe?”
She wasn’t sure what kind of partner Ivy meant but went with the obvious. “Not Dane. No way.” She had a feeling Ivy already knew every name on her list, including him.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You know that for sure?”
“Yes. He just wouldn’t. And he defended me when everything hit the fan. It’s not him.”
“Okay, then who?”
She paused. Bet Ivy already had his name on whatever list she’d compiled. But she wouldn’t know Cassie’s personal connections with each of them. Not yet anyway, and Cassie didn’t want to tell her. “There is someone else. But he’s in prison.”
“Who?”
She sighed, pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I’m texting you the list of names I was gonna give Ryder. But the first two are in prison.” She sent them.
Ivy looked at her own phone. “They’re cops?”
“The first half. How many of these names did you already have?”
Ivy ignored the question. “So if these first two are in prison, either of them could be pulling strings from the inside.”
She hated to admit it was possible, but she couldn’t say for certain it wasn’t. Crime still happened behind bars. “I guess...maybe.”
“You and I both know it’s more than maybe.” Ivy’s gaze was as hard as her tone, sending a little shiver down Cassie’s spine. She was lucky to have such a powerful ally who believed in her.
She hoped it would be enough to make all this stop.
Ivy put her phone away. “Think I’ve got everything I need to dig into this. Anything else you wanna talk about while it’s just the two of us? I’m not great at girl talk, but Shae and Kiyomi tell me I’m getting better.”
Cassie smiled faintly. Did Ivy know about her and Tristan? Probably. “I’m okay.”
“All right. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and relax your right shoulder when you shoot. You’re too tense, it’s pulling your aim up and right.” She left Cassie staring after her.
Cassie turned back to the firing lane and loaded a fresh magazine, her thoughts shifting back to Tristan. And how in a different time and place, she would have done anything to make it work with him.