35. McCarthy
MCCARTHY
“ H ide me!” Jenna squeaks, jumping up off the bed, her legs immediately collapsing under her.
I grab her around the waist.
“My freaking foot’s asleep.”
She feels so good in my arms, so soft and smelling like sex, like me. I nuzzle her neck, dip my head down to kiss the swell of her breast near the pink nipple.
“Stop. No. Bad.” Jenna slaps lightly at my head. “Hide me! My freaking boss is here! Oh my god, you need to fire that security company.”
“Just go in the closet.”
“She’ll check the closet!” Jenna’s trying to wedge herself under the bed.
“Throw a pillow down here?”
I regard her as I fasten my pants. “I’m starting to see why your life is such a shit show, Cupcake. ”
“Pillow!” One of her hands reaches out from under the bed, making a grabbing motion.
I let one fall on the floor with a soft thump . It disappears under the bed.
Crawford is waiting impatiently downstairs with an overly pregnant woman. Bethany. The most unhappy pregnant woman I’ve ever seen, aside from my own mother.
I don’t greet either of them. They work for me, after all.
“What are you doing here?”
Crawford levels his gaze at me. “She threatened to call the police. Thinks you have one of her employees trapped here.”
“Ms. Jenna Whitney is not here.”
“He said she was.” Bethany points a bony finger at Crawford. “And that’s her dog.”
“I bought that dog.” I lie as easily as I breathe.
“He’s a gift for a woman I was cheating on.
Apparently, she thought I was going marry her.
” I let the laugh escape my throat. “I’m not ready to let her go yet.
There’s a surprising lack of women in this city willing to engage in freaky sex for free. ”
Bethany doesn’t seem to be buying it. “You smell like fornication.”
“Jesus,” Crawford mutters.
I shoot him a scowl. “I bring a lot of women here. It’s not out of the question.” I shrug a bare shoulder.
Her lip curls up. “Prism does not allow our employees to engage in sexual relationships with clients.”
“What about nonsexual relationships?” I quip.
“I will be conducting a search of this apartment.” Bethany pushes up her sleeves.
I silently communicate “What the fuck?” to Crawford .
He silently communicates “Salinger will skin me if the police show up here asking about a kidnapped employee.”
Also, Jenna’s naked under my bed. I’m not a PR princess like she is, but even I know that’s not a good look.
The front door opens.
“Um…” One of the guards shuffles in.
“Oh, you do look delicious,” Sable says. The leggy blonde saunters in, wearing a skintight dress that’s made for ripping off.
The guard is staring straight up at the ceiling so he doesn’t check her out.
Sable’s lip curls up into a smile as she takes in my shirtless, barefoot state.
“See?” I tell Bethany as Sable licks her lips. “I wouldn’t have Jenna here when I’ve got this on my roster.”
“A little birdie told me”—Sable is practically rubbing up against me—“that someone wants a threesome.”
“Is that what you’re here for, then?” I smirk at Bethany. “Awfully late to be out at night. Your husband know where you are?”
“That’s exactly what she wants.” Sable rubs at the lipstick mark she’s left on my chest. “Too bad for her I already invited our third playmate.”
The front door opens again.
Bethany’s nostrils flare as Juniper, the leggy redhead from dinner—you know, where Jenna literally dated two step-family members then unfolded for me when I undid her with my mouth? Yeah, that dinner—walks in.
Her dress is so low cut that with one wrong move, she’d fall right out .
Somehow, Jenna, with her messy hair and ripped tank top and shorts with the bleach stain, is so much more desirable.
The redhead joins Sable. Truman jumps off his couch throne to bark at the new arrival.
“A gift for you, sweetheart,” I tell Sable blandly, though it’s pretty obvious to everyone that the dog recognizes Bethany.
Crawford makes a disgusted noise. He’s going to go complain to Greg and Salinger and Hunter—not all at the same time, because for three people who all grew up together, they cannot stand one another.
“It’s a Sunday night.” Bethany’s disapproval is obvious.
I shrug.
“When you’re a billionaire, every night is Friday night. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” I smile down at Sable.
Bethany turns up her nose as Sable strokes a hand down my bare chest.
My half brother nods to the guard. “Show her out.”
Shifting her bag to her shoulder, Bethany follows him to the front door.
I wait to hear the door slam.
Crawford snaps a photo before I can push the two women away.
“Salinger’s going to love this.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I fell for your shit!”
“Jenna?” I flinch.
She’s done a bad job of trying to clean up, and she’s wearing one of my workout hoodies and boxers.
God, I want to fuck her. Even as she stands on the top step, screaming at me, crying and furious .
“I knew it! I fucking knew it. God, I’m so stupid. You seriously wanted to sleep with me just to put a feather in your cap.”
“That’s not true.”
“All that shit about you wanting me to love you.”
I am very aware of Crawford’s disapproval. The derisive email to our brothers almost writes itself.
“That’s not what happened. Get them out of here,” I snap at Crawford, finally shoving the two women away.
Sable makes an offended noise. “I paid for an Uber Black over here.”
“I’m sure you’ll be reimbursed,” Jenna tells her, sniffling.
“We should wait until Bethany clears the building.” Crawford sighs.
“We can keep you occupied while you wait,” Juniper offers.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur, eyes still on Jenna’s tearstained face.
“Don’t wanna keep your sexy DoorDash waiting,” Jenna snaps, shoving past me.
Crawford holds out an arm to her. Like what? Like he’s just going to wrap her in his arms.
He gives her one soft glance, opens his mouth.
Before I can think, I pick up one of the expensive vases that the penthouse’s interior designer has strewn around and hurl it at him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Crawford shouts, sidestepping the vase.
The two scantily clad women keep touching me. I’m ready to throw something heavier.
Even though all I want is Jenna, she’s glaring at me from across the room, hurt and betrayal on her face .
“Don’t worry, we’ll go. Sounds like Jenna needs to hear some hard truths. Maybe buy her something nice to make her feel better, poor thing.” Sable strokes my jaw before I can stop her.
Jenna’s chin wobbles. She turns and runs up the stairs, Truman’s ears practically dragging on the floor as he hops up after her.
Crawford grabs me before I can run after her and hauls me to my study. “Salinger’s right. You’re out of fucking control. It’s worse than he said.”
“I didn’t—”
“I don’t want to hear a half-baked explanation from you,” he sneers in my face.
My teeth grind. “Good, because I don’t apologize or make excuses.”
I don’t explain to him that I didn’t tell those two girls to come over, because I don’t care what he thinks of me. “I thought you flew back to Boston. Did you decide you missed me after all?”
Crawford hits my cheek lightly. “You and your nutcasery? Hell no. I’m already at my quota of dumb little brothers needing shit from me.”
“I don’t need shit from you,” I say automatically.
“Really? So you don’t want the good news?”
“You drowned Brock in the bay?”
“Figured out why he’s in the building. Turns out Brock’s rich family bought a unit in the building, and he’s been in and out of there, ‘visiting an aunt.’ We’ve got eyes on Brock, and we’ll make sure he doesn’t come back here.”
“Unless you’re going to dump him off in South America, I don’t want to hear it. ”
Crawford turns to my murder wall. He whistles. “You monitoring all these people? That’s expensive.”
“Someone’s after her.” I show Crawford Jenna’s phone, which I’ve swiped. “Most of the numbers were blocked or from VOIP when I’d traced them. Unfortunately, I don’t own the telecom company, or I’d break every law to get the names.”
The text messages clog the screen, scores of them, each one worse than the last—violent AI images, threats, insults.
“These aren’t from the same person, you know.” He swipes through the phone.
“Yeah, no shit,” I tell Crawford.
He stands in front of the wall of images. I stand next to him.
“Jenna doesn’t think any of them are dangerous.”
We scan the photos, the timeline I’d made like I was hunting down the killer in some criminal-mastermind movie before the end credits rolled.
“Nathan’s the obvious choice,” Crawford finally says.
“Not Brock? It’s an escalation of behavior. Besides, I haven’t heard shit from Nathan.”
“Once they leave the guy, that’s when it gets dangerous.”
“Put a team on him.”
“Ain’t free. And no friends-and-family discount either,” he warns. Crawford doesn’t leave, though. He continues to stare at the board, rubbing his chin. His nails make a faint sandpaper sound over unshaved stubble.
He takes a breath. “My gut, McCarthy, is that it’s one of the stepfathers.”
We contemplate the sheer number of boyfriends Jenna’s mother has had .
“These are just the ones I found on social media. There are probably others.”
“I think you need to play defense on this one, not offense.”
“Have you met Jenna?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, and I’d have no problem keeping her inside.”
I slug him in the kidneys.
He just laughs. “I’d tell you to work on your groveling to Jenna,” he adds over his shoulder. “But I know you don’t actually care.”
My phone goes off, a topless photo appearing on the screen preview.
Crawford sees it, his face darkening. “You’re such a piece of shit.”
The door slams.
I delete the messages and wish I had a photo of Jenna on my phone. Then I block the numbers of the women texting me.
I resist the urge to rip down my carefully constructed murder wall. Instead, I stare at the faces as the hot anger burns under my skin, which still smells like her.
The decision is made abruptly.
I sit at my computer and begin to implement the nuclear option. I’m removing one of the chess pieces from the board.
Crawford’s right. I am a piece of shit.
Which is just what I need to be. Because no one is taking Jenna from me.