Chapter 6
SETH
Landon Sprechter sprawls in the armchair across from mine. We’re in the sitting area of my office, each of us holding a tumbler of whisky and frowning.
“So we’re certain it’s Point Ops,” he says, staring into his glass.
“There’s no one else who wants us gone this bad. Our rivalry has gotten a lot worse in the past three months—they’ve been scooping jobs out from under us.” I’m still bitter about the Alaska job with Dumond and Kerrick. Fuckers. “There’s also that temper tantrum you and Cody found.”
The audio clip is short, only fifteen seconds recorded by a former Point Ops employee. Landon and Cody have been doing a lot of legwork, tracking down anyone who might have insights into Pointer’s motives. They found motives, straight from Pointer’s own mouth. I play the recording on my phone.
“…swear to fucking god, Nove fucked our plans. Coming in like some noble fucking knights. You know how much we’ve lost to them? Millions. I can’t even stomach it.” The recording ends there, but it’s more than enough.
“Well.” Landon takes a sip of whisky. “We’ve been through every property holding of Point Ops, reviewing which ones might be in the picture of your parents. It isn’t a hotel or motel, we know that much from the background details.”
They’re good—I wouldn’t have been able to narrow it down that far.
“Well, there’s a building somewhere,” I say. “Something they own, I’m sure of it. They wouldn’t want to leave anything to chance by holding my parents in a place they don’t control.”
As Landon nods thoughtfully, my phone buzzes with a text.
I grin when I see Madison’s name on the screen.
“Who’s the girl?” Landon asks with a teasing note in his voice.
“Someone special.” I take a moment to text Madison back. I hadn’t realized how Damiano’s and my lack of texting messed with her confidence. It makes sense, though. We came on strong, and then we ignored her.
I send my text through. How’s your day, Miss M?
She texts back a photo of a plate of cookies. I’m enjoying the domestic life.
“Are you both seeing her?” Landon holds up his hands. “It’s not my fucking business, I know. It’s just, Cody and I are hoping to find a similar arrangement.”
“Must be something in the San Esteban water, huh?” I raise my eyebrows.
Landon shrugs and grins. “Or maybe more men are figuring out just how rewarding it is to pamper one woman together.”
“Fair enough. Yeah, we’re both seeing her.”
Madison sends another text, this one of her holding a cookie to her mouth. Don’t you wish you could take a bite?
Little tease. Very tempting, I type back.
“Fuck, you’re like a high schooler flirting with his homecoming date.” Landon laughs.
I flip him off and text Madison again. Show me more.
Her next text is a picture of the cookie sheet, with more cookies.
That’s not what I meant, I write, and you know it.
“I’m fucking jealous, man,” Landon says.
I nod. “You should be.”
We get back into our task, searching for Point Ops business assets and holdings.
Point Ops won’t be Erich Pointer’s only company.
Whatever business “owns” the building where my parents are kept, it’ll be hidden.
There are loopholes and LLCs and registered agents.
We pull out our laptops and work until our eyes are burning.
“I have to get back to the office,” Landon says. “I’ll come at this fresh tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”
I nod. I feel bad for my parents. In a logical, detached way, I’m worried about them.
They must be terrified. But there’s a disconnect, as well.
I have a responsibility for them, but no emotional resonance.
Over the course of my childhood, they severed any chance of having an emotional connection with me.
After Landon leaves, I look at my phone again. Madison sent another text at some point—another photo.
Fuck. Me.
Most of her face is out of the frame, but I can see her pouty lips. It looks like she’s only wearing a bra, with her cleavage pushed up into the photo. Mouthwatering.
I send her a message. Baby girl. I’m going to fuck those tits first chance I get.
MADISON
Ever since last night, I keep looking at Seth’s messages. I can hear his voice, low and intense, behind every typed letter on the screen.
I set down my phone and fan my face. That was the first “sexy” text I’ve ever received. Kyle and I never really did this sort of thing—he used texting as a practical tool, not a seduction device.
As I finish drinking my morning smoothie, I look at Seth’s text again. Baby girl. I’m going to fuck those tits first chance I get. So crude and dirty…yet it makes me so freaking hot. Maybe I should get back in bed with my vibrator. I put the device to good use last night.
But should I use it again in broad daylight? Sure, why the hell not? It’s not like I have roommates to worry about. I’d want to close my curtains, though. I haven’t seen Ford in a while, but that doesn’t mean he won’t show up out of nowhere. Probably at the least convenient time.
That’s not fair of me. He just wants to take care of the yard. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so short with him.
I finally called a landscaping company, and they’re coming tomorrow morning. Should I tell him, so he doesn’t worry?
No, it’s none of his business. This is my house now. He got his own inheritance from our great-aunt.
However, I still haven’t called any tree specialists like I told him I would do. I wonder if it’s necessary. Ford seems to think so, and he really seems to care about those trees. I care, too—it’s just not something I’ve ever had to think about before.
“Ugh, fine, I’ll call a tree company,” I mutter, making sure my sweatshirt is on correctly. My vibrator can wait. And if I’m really lucky, Nove will rescue Seth’s parents today, and I can celebrate with Seth and Damiano tonight.
The receptionist at the company tells me they have a spot available for a consultation this afternoon. Two hours later, a guy in a big pick-up buzzes to be let in at the gate.
I meet him on the porch. He’s a handsome guy with a protruding belly and thick arms and legs. We shake hands.
“I’m Jerry Kent, with Kent Arborists.” He tilts his head toward the side of my house, where most of the citrus trees are located. “Are those the trees you want me to look at?”
“Yes, but there are more trees at the back of the property. Can I give you a tour?”
He grins, his blue eyes twinkling. “That’s what I’m here for, ma’am.”
Ma’am? That’s a first. But it seems to be part of his charm, as he’s unfailingly polite while trailing me around the yard with his clipboard. He diagrams the positions of the trees and makes notes about each of them.
“These orange trees here, and the grapefruit, are all in excellent health.” He scratches his chin with his pen. “I’m not sure you need our help—you’re doing great.”
“Oh, it isn’t me. My cousin is the last guy who lived here. He came by a few days ago to check the trees. But I told him I’d have someone else handle it going forward.”
Jerry raises his bushy eyebrows. “Ma’am, these trees were treated just a day ago, maybe as early as this morning.”
“This morning?” My infuriating cousin. He’s still getting onto the property and messing around in the yard? “Are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Oh, yes.” He bends down and runs his finger through the earth. “Look here, at the fertilizer. It hasn’t had a chance to absorb into the soil yet. The morning dew alone should’ve caused it to absorb.”
I have words on the tip of my tongue, words for Ford’s ears alone. So I push down my irritation and nod at Jerry. “I can assure you, I’d much rather have your company working on my yard than my interfering cousin.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
He looks mildly uncomfortable, so I must not be doing a great job of hiding my feelings.
“Sorry,” I say. “I have an interfering relative. I’ll get it managed.”
“Oh, I understand interfering relatives.” He nods, his eyes wide. “My father-in-law keeps ‘borrowing’ my tools.”
Jerry fills out the details of his father-in-law saga while we tour the rest of the property. I share a little about what Ford has been up to, and he grimaces in commiseration.
We reach the rear of the east side of the property—the part that borders the Kavlans’ yard.
“This privacy border is thriving.” Jerry points to the thick brush. “The problem is, the trees are getting so large, they aren’t blocking as much view of your neighbors. I can recommend some bushes that might do well in the shade and provide extra privacy.”
It would keep Matthew Kavlan from seeing my house, and maybe get his wife off my back. I haven’t heard from her since she hissed at me to stay away from her husband, but I have seen Matthew around.
Speak of the devil. The back door opens at the Kavlan house, and Matthew steps outside.
I’m not sure whether to wave, or not. Charmaine freaked me the fuck out, telling me to stay away from him. Is waving at my neighbor considered too much encouragement?
This whole situation is messed up. I see Matthew, Matthew sees me. Neither of us acknowledges the other.
Jerry reclaims my attention with some ideas for pruning the cherry trees at the far back edge, so we head over there to get a closer look.
But when I walk Jerry back to the front of the house, I glance back at the Kavlans’ place.
Matthew is still standing on his back patio, facing my house. Motionless. Staring.