Chapter 11
The next day dawned bright and sunny, a massive relief after the harrowing night before. Jules had never been so grateful to see sunlight pierce through the clouds.
She and Brock had started out on opposite sides of the couch, with Nikki and Luke making pallets on the floor. Brock had offered to also sleep on the floor, but Jules felt bad for ousting him from his place on the couch. She suggested that they both sleep in lounging positions with their legs and feet resting on the coffee table instead of lying flat. Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, Jules must have shifted in her sleep. When she woke up, she was tucked securely in Brock’s arms.
Mortification swept over her. She scrambled to pull away, only to realize she had drool running down the side of her mouth. Hastily, she wiped it off and moved a respectable distance away from him, trying not to dwell on how wonderful it had been to be held in his strong, capable arms. When Brock was holding her, she could almost believe that everything would be okay.
Mom called first thing to make sure they were all okay. When Jules told her about the tree coming through her bedroom window, Mom let out a gasp. This incident was only going to make her even more terrified of storms. Mom insisted that she and Dad come over at once, especially when she learned that the power was still out, but Jules assured her that they had the situation under control. Err … Brock and Luke had it under control.
By mid-morning, Luke had already gone to Lowes and came back with a chainsaw, work gloves, and other necessities. At Nikki’s insistence, Jules hobbled out to the porch. The two of them watched as the men attacked the cleanup with efficiency. All the while, Nikki gawked at their muscles, pointing out how they rolled so smoothly beneath their olive-toned skin.
“I feel like I’m watching a live scene out of Men’s Fitness Magazine.” Nikki sat back and pursed her lips. “I can’t decide which one is better looking. No doubt about it, Brock’s Mr. Tough through and through. Luke’s thinner and wirier, but you can tell that he’s tough too. Also, he exudes a nimble grace that’s almost elegant, don’t you think?”
“You’re smitten.” Jules threw her a coy grin. “Don’t try to deny it.” It was cute to watch her face turn red.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted and then quickly changed the subject. “What about you and Brock?”
“What about it?” she snapped, not liking that the tables were turned.
“He’s crazy about you.”
Rather than answering, she clamped her mouth shut.
“Maybe you should give him another chance.”
For a second, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard Nikki correctly. “What?” she grumbled.
“You heard me,” Nikki drawled.
Jules whipped around. Yeah, she’d heard … and it burned her ears. “How could you say that? He broke up with me to get back with his ex-wife,” she uttered hoarsely.
“That’s not what happened, and you know it. He made a mistake, but he’s here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”
“Fine,” Nikki snipped, “but for the record, I think you’re making a big mistake. I can see the way you look at him. You’re in love with him, cuz.” Her voice quivered with intensity. “Believe me when I say that feelings that strong only come along once in a lifetime … if you’re lucky.”
Jules knew that Nikki was talking about Soren, the Scandinavian Prince. She turned to Nikki. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” she said glumly.
Nikki claimed to be the eternal optimist. She tended to gloss over all unpleasantness, hoping that if she refused to acknowledge it, the bad would somehow go away. Jules still had no idea what happened between Nikki and her prince, but she could tell that her cousin was trying to bury whatever it was. Nikki was a lot more complex than she let on. Her MO was to hide her pain underneath a flurry of activity. Jules got the impression that whatever happened with the prince was a doozy.
A sly smile stole over Nikki’s lips as her voice lifted. “I’d rather just sit here and watch the eye candy.” She cut her eyes at Jules. “Don’t pretend that you’re not enjoying it, too.” She held out her hands, suddenly interested in her fingernails. “We should go and get mani-pedis. I’m way overdue.”
Of course, Jules had noticed the fluid manner in which Brock wielded his athletic body. She might be infuriated at him, but she wasn’t blind. Watching him whooshed a heady attraction through her. She had to keep reminding herself that while she needed him to keep her safe, she couldn’t allow herself to fall back into old habits. She had to stay firmly behind the safety line she’d drawn—the one that stipulated things were over with Brock. Otherwise, she’d be in for even more heartache than she’d already endured. It was easy for Nikki to sit there and say that Jules should give Brock another chance. Her heart wasn’t the one on the line.
“I can’t stand being sidelined any longer.” Nikki jumped up. “I’ve got to help. Could y’all use a hand?” she asked.
Luke raised his safety goggles up to rest on his curly hair and then swiped his arm over his brow. “Any help is much appreciated,” he said with a boyish grin. “Hopefully, you can work a little better than you can run, Combat Barbie.”
Mellow laughter flowed from Nikki’s throat. “Don’t you worry, Stalker Boy. I know how to work. I am from Alabama, after all.”
He quirked a frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m a Southern gal. My daddy had me out working from the time I could walk.”
“I guess we’ll see,” he teased as he lowered the safety goggles to rest over his eyes. With a dramatic flair, he held up the chainsaw and revved up the engine. Then, he sliced the blade through the fallen tree. The buzz was so loud that it made Jules want to plug her ears.
There was nothing she could do but watch as Luke worked the chainsaw, chopping the tree into manageable pieces while Brock hauled the heavier chunks to the curb and Nikki carried the lighter ones. They had the damage all cleaned up by noon and then went into the house, where they ate the rest of the cold pizza because there was still no power.
Finally, the power came back on at one p.m. The timing was fortuitous because they had a video call scheduled with Sutton Smith at three thirty p.m.
When the time came, Brock brought his laptop over from across the street. He, Jules, and Luke gathered on the couch while Nikki traipsed off to get a shower. Brock sat in the middle with Jules and Luke flanking him. Brock was the one hosting the meeting. Dad was the first to join from the ranch, his image framed by the handsome bookshelves in his office.
A second later, Sutton Smith jumped on. The background of his office was equally impressive in a more high-tech way.
Jules’s first thought was that he looked like Daniel Craig in his James Bond days—handsome, debonair, and no-nonsense with a rugged edge. His British accent rolled crisply through the speakers.
"Hello," Sutton said briskly. "How’s everything going?"
“We’ve got some new information,” Brock answered.
Sutton’s gaze sharpened as he scanned the screen. When he saw Luke, a faint flicker of displeasure crossed his face.
Brock jumped in to explain. “Luke’s helping me out on this one.”
Silence settled over the video call.
"I won’t let you down," Luke said quickly. “Not this time."
Another long pause.
Sutton pressed his lips into a hard line before finally responding. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Jules’s heart twisted for Luke. She could tell how much Sutton’s opinion mattered to him. According to what Brock had told her, Luke was trying hard to rebuild his life. It certainly appeared that way.
Sensing the awkwardness, her dad cleared his throat, his tone warm and deferential. “Sutton, we know how busy you are and appreciate you making time for this call.”
The edges of Sutton’s eyes softened ever so slightly. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for. Happy to help.” His attention snapped back to Brock, businesslike again. “All right, tell me what you’ve got.”
Brock glanced at Jules. She gave a small nod of permission for him to continue, steeling herself for what he was about to say.
“Jules had a nightmare last night," Brock said, "and she was able to remember some important details from the accident.”
Sutton and Jules’s dad both leaned closer to their screens.
"Tell us," Sutton prompted.
Jules swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“What did you remember, sweetheart?” Her dad piped in, voice brimming with compassion.
She recounted the sensation of being trapped, the footsteps approaching her overturned car, the flicker of metal gleaming in the darkness.
When she reached the part about the gun, her dad’s face darkened. Even through the screen, she could feel his protective anger.
Brock’s hand found hers, a steady, grounding touch that gave her the strength to continue.
“Even though I couldn’t see his face …” Her voice trembled. “I knew it was Steve Randall, and I knew that he intended to kill me.” A shiver ran through her. The memory still felt half-formed and jagged like the shattered glass that had rained down on her from the broken windshield.
Sutton looked thoughtful. “If Steve Randall intended to kill you, then what stopped him from completing the task?”
Jules flinched, not comfortable with this line of questioning. A look at Dad’s grave expression told her that he was uncomfortable also. “I’m not sure. Maybe someone else came up on the scene, or he heard sirens.”
“That’s a definite possibility,” Sutton acknowledged. “At any rate, it tells us this wasn’t a random accident."
At the very least, Jules now knew that much. Her stomach twisted. She’d been holding onto the hope that the accident was random, but now she had to face the hard truth. She was in danger from a man out for revenge.
Brock took the reins again. “We’ve got the PI searching for Randall. One week before Jules’s accident, Randall had words with his boss. He stormed off and didn’t return. He hasn’t shown back up for work since and has gone completely off the grid.”
Sutton’s brow furrowed.
“And," Brock added, "Clayton had a good idea. We’re throwing a birthday party for Jules next Friday—sort of a belated celebration since she was in the hospital on her actual birthday. We’re inviting her coworkers. It’ll give me a chance to observe them and ask questions without raising suspicion.”
“Smart,” Sutton said approvingly.
Her dad jumped in. "Tell him about Mindy."
Jules hesitated, then drew a breath. "One of my coworkers, Mindy, mentioned that she thought someone was following her. But she’s paranoid by nature. I’m not sure if it’s actually happening or if Mindy’s imagining things.”
We need to treat every report seriously,” Sutton said firmly. “Brock, make sure you speak with her at the party.”
“Will do,” Brock said. He hesitated for a couple of beats and then said, “I know we have a PI involved already. But given everything that’s going on, I feel we should have the best on this.” He looked past Jules and homed in on Luke. “My vote is to have Luke do some deeper digging.”
The comment was met with a stilted silence.
Sutton drilled into Luke with eyes sharp enough to cut steel. Finally, he gave a clipped nod. “All right, if you think it’s a good idea.”
“I do,” Brock said immediately.
“I won’t let you down,” Luke promised.
Sutton’s voice turned brisk. “What else?”
Sutton certainly wasn’t giving Luke any slack. Jules couldn’t help but feel sorry for Luke. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to regain Sutton’s trust. From the looks of things, it would be an uphill battle.
Brock told Sutton about the tornado that had touched down in Plano—not far from them. He told them about the tree damage and how the power had only recently come back on. He explained that repairs were needed for the broken window.
"I’ll take care of it," Jules’s dad said in a tone that suggested he was glad he could do something to help. "I’ve got contacts. I’ll pull some favors and get someone out there ASAP."
“Excellent,” Sutton said. “Also, I want the security system at Jules’s house evaluated. No half-measures.”
Brock nodded. “I was thinking the same. Luke offered to handle that.”
"I’ll start making calls today," Luke confirmed.
“It’s too bad Tippin’s still in Ireland,” her dad said with a sigh. “He would’ve been perfect for this.”
“Yes, pity,” Sutton agreed. "But we’ll find someone solid." He looked directly at Jules, his tone shifting from clipped efficiency to something softer. "How are you holding up?"
A hard lump rose in Jules’s throat. She forced herself to smile.
"I’m hanging in there. It’s been tough. But I’m going back to work on Monday. I think getting back into a normal routine will help."
“Good,” Sutton said warmly. “Keep your ears open at work. Listen carefully to what people are saying. Get a feel for the mood. If Randall’s targeting more than one of you, others may be feeling the stress.”
Jules nodded, her stomach knotting.
"One thing’s for sure." Jules’s dad leaned towards the screen. "We’re grateful to have Brock here, living right across the street."
“Oh, that’s right.” Sutton’s voice lifted slightly. "You got that all arranged?"
“We did,” He said with a note of pride. “I bought the house across the street. Brock and Luke can stay there for as long as needed.”
“Very good,” Sutton clipped. “Is there anything else?”
Brock glanced at Jules before answering. “In addition to trying to track down Steve Randall, we’re going to investigate all others in Jules’s circle of contact that give us cause for concern.” He briefly paused before continuing. “Starting with Dean Powell.”
Her dad furrowed his brows. “Dean Powell?” He looked at Jules as he spoke. “Has Dean been giving you trouble?” The edge in his voice suggested that he was fully prepared to take care of the situation if needed.
Before she could respond, Brock spoke up. “Not trouble, per se, but he showed up here during a hailstorm to bring Jules a bundle of roses. That struck me as odd.”
“That is odd. You cut the man loose a while ago.” Jules’s dad zeroed in on her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“It is,” she nodded, “but Dean can’t seem to get it through his head.”
He frowned. “Maybe I should have a talk with his parents. Jules’s mother is the one who set Dean up with Jules,” he explained. “His parents belong to the same country club as us.” He scrunched his face. “Dean’s a well-known realtor. I don’t think he would ever do anything to hurt Jules. He’s probably just lovesick because she broke up with him. I think he had high hopes for their relationship.”
“Even more reason to keep tabs on him. We can’t leave any stone unturned,” Brock countered. “If Dean’s harmless, then an investigation will prove that.” He spoke to Jules’s dad. “It’s probably better for you not to mention anything to Dean’s parents. On the off chance that Dean could be dangerous, we don’t want to tip him off that we’re onto him.”
“Fair enough,” he said evenly.
Sutton took charge of the call. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s all for now,” Brock clipped. “We’ll keep moving forward and hope to have some answers soon.”
Sutton homed in on Luke. “You know what I expect from you.”
“I do, and I won’t let you down,” Luke responded.
Sutton eyed him for one long moment before turning his attention to Brock. “Keep a close watch on Jules. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Brock threw Jules a slight smile. There was a glint of something deeper in his eyes. "Don’t worry. I plan to keep her in my sight the entire time."
Jules huffed softly but didn’t argue. Just what she needed—Brock with her 24/7.
"Good," Sutton nodded. "If anything changes, update me. Otherwise, send me reports every couple of days."
“Will do,” Brock said.
Sutton spoke to Clayton. “Your daughter’s in good hands. Brock’s the best of the best.”
“I have no doubt.” His voice rang with confidence. “The added layer of devotion certainly helps,” he added with a sparkle in his eyes.
Heat flamed Jules’s face. Dad just had to go there.
Sutton didn’t acknowledge the remark, but Jules could tell from his expression that he was fully aware of the situation. “Cheerio,” he said in the way of parting the second before he got off the call.
“See you, sweetheart,” her dad said, and then the image of him flicked off.
Luke took in a long breath as he turned to Brock. “Well, we have our marching orders. Time to get busy.”
“Time to get busy,” Brock repeated.