As soon as Charlize headed upstairs at his place, Riley called Bailey, who had the goal of becoming an FBI agent, and asked him to head back and work from CI headquarters because he needed to go out for a bit. In the meantime, he had to help his houseguest set up to work.
She was in her room, door closed, and he knocked. Entered only when he was told he could do so. And found her with her laptop case on the bed, a plug-in charger beside it.
He looked at the case. Not the bed. And knew he had to get out of there.
To focus on the outside dangers threatening her. And Brody.
Not on the intimate ones trying to take place right there in that room. Not even his siblings knew the details about Marisol. He’d poured his heart out and couldn’t get it back in the container he held so carefully around it. And had no plan to go forward with it out there.
How did he proceed without a plan?
Way more important, how did he be a father and keep his child safe?
“The fact that they left the warning on your porch is good news in one sense,” he told Charlize, a bit awkwardly, out of nowhere, as he cleared off the small desk in the room she’d chosen and gave her the Wi-Fi information. His thoughts had to remain on keeping her safe. And finding Wes Matthews and Capital X so that he could get Brody home. He did not need to be aware of her sweet scent in a bedroom in his home.
“How so?” she asked, setting her laptop on the cleared desk and opening it up. Paper files came out of the laptop case next, which she plopped down not far from the computer.
He noticed her fingers around the edges of them. Remembered how they’d felt on his body.
“It tells us that they don’t know you’re with me,” he said. “That box was left sometime last night or early this morning. You’d already left. Whoever delivered it didn’t know that.”
She looked up at him; some of the worry that had been a constant in her expression since they’d reconnected seemed to ease. From the moment he’d seen her again, her life had been in danger.
But it wouldn’t always be.
He wanted to know her then, too. When she wasn’t consumed with worry.
“I have to go out for a while,” he pretty much blurted out. And then added, “And my siblings will be by late this afternoon for a meeting on the case.” Just the thought of it—facing his siblings with the mother of his child in their home—set him on edge.
“I’ll stay up here.”
Her solution eased his tension. But only menially. The girls knew how to climb stairs. And technically, Charlize was in Pippa and Kiely’s bedroom.
Some of his discomfort must have shown on his face as Charlize stepped closer, lifting a hand to his beard, smoothing it as she’d done that not so long ago night. Touching him much like he’d touched her only an hour before.
“It’s okay, Riley,” she told him softly, her gaze knowing. Confident.
Reassuring, even.
“I know this is hard for you...”
“I’m fine,” he said. “You’re the one whose life is in danger...”
“I wasn’t talking about the threats,” she said. “I just want you to know, I’m not going to ask for anything, or expect more than you can give,” she told him. “And your sisters and brother—they’re your family. How all of you handle this whole baby thing...it’s up to you. I’ll accommodate you as much as I possibly can.”
Her hand fell to her side. Which was for the best.
He nodded. Told her she could reach him on his cell if she needed anything, then got the hell out of there.
Pal was on guard, and Ashanti was at the office, too. Though Ashanti wasn’t licensed to carry a gun, she was every bit as tough as Charlize.
Bailey pulled in just as Riley was backing out of the double car drive that led to the family parking around back. Good. Though he felt confident that whoever was after Charlize didn’t know she was staying with him—or even knew him—he still felt better knowing that the house was well occupied.
He needed to do some drive-bys. To reassure himself that the suspects in Charlize’s case were all at work as they were supposed to be. And then he was going to see two separate couples, RevitaYou investors who’d been unavailable for in-person meetings until that day. Frustrated that no one was getting anywhere interviewing any of the users, he wanted to talk to the last few himself.
An hour later he was back at the house.
“How’s she doing?” he asked Ashanti as soon as he come in from the kitchen.
From behind her desk, Ashanti shook her head, her long braids accentuating the move. “Haven’t heard a peep from her,” she said. He wanted to go upstairs. To check on her.
And the strength of that desire was what kept him downstairs, going back to the kitchen to get a fruit and vegetable tray ready for the upcoming CI meeting. He’d cut the fruit first thing that morning, before dawn, because of his inability to sleep well with Charlize right down the hall from him. The veggies were already sliced, as well, giving him not enough to occupy himself in the five minutes he had before everyone started to arrive.
Bailey left, Pal following him outside. Just as Riley was coming up with the need to double-check the ammunition he kept in a locked drawer in his nightstand, and, since he was up there to perhaps knock on the guest’s door just to let her know he was back, he heard a car door shut.
And then another.
Bracing himself, he kept his back to the kitchen entry, carried the tray into the dining room, grabbed a beer because something had to go the way he wanted, and took his seat at the head of the table.
He was the head of CI. The boss.
And he’d changed those girls’ diapers. Gotten Griffin out of more than one scrap. He’d hauled all of their asses to sporting events, school events and to see their friends, too. His parents had put him in charge. Told everyone to do as he said.
For the first time in a while Riley longed for those days. Longed for a time when what he said was law and no one got to question him.
His siblings came in quietly. Took their seats. So subdued you’d think someone had died. Griffin had a beer. The girls—women, Charlize had corrected him—had settled on nonalcoholic beverages.
It had never been so hard for him to meet their gazes, but he did so. One at a time. Looking around the table.
And then said, “I met with Ellis and Reva Layne and John and Cassie Winslow this afternoon.” Investors from the last batch—Brody’s batch. “Both elderly couples met Wes Matthews at a seminar, as Brody did. Both, fearing fraud now, have filed reports with GRPD. And neither couple had anything new to give us. It’s the same story we’ve heard elsewhere. They meet Matthews at a seminar. Used cash transfers. And all sources of contact have since been cut off. I was hoping someone had gotten into some kind of personal conversation with him—maybe learned something they’d think was innocuous, but that we could use—but none of them had any clue where he’s gone, or anything about his personal life. His conversations with them had been all about RevitaYou, period. I promised them that I’d find him, regardless.”
Everyone was looking at him, nodding. No one said a word. In the midst of their silence, almost as though prompted by it, he had a sudden vision of the ultrasound screen that morning. That tiny moving form. The silence that was broken by the rapid beating of a very small heart...
“Sadie, have you been able to find anything on this scientist?”
His sister shook her head. “I’m still looking, of course, but so far, nothing. I had a full day today, though. The crime lab was overloaded...”
“Did your department happen to get the box that came over a couple of hours ago? Had a confetti popper in it with a warning?” He was taking them into Charlize territory, but he had to ask.
She nodded. “I saw it come and when I saw Iglesias’s name on it, I asked to handle it. We ran it for prints, but there was nothing. And there was nothing else identifying, either. The popper was one in a million. You can get them at any box store in the city, and elsewhere, as well. The box was a small package with any identifiers from a previously mailing completely peeled off. I hear it was left on a doorstep.”
Her report, while disappointing, didn’t surprise him. He was glad to know that she’d handled it.
“Charlize’s,” he said, guessing she already knew that. He’d told them she was staying with him. Was that why they were all being so quiet? Out of decorum? Because of his houseguest?
He’d assumed it was because they weren’t happy with him.
And that made more sense.
No one had eaten a thing. Everyone else was watching his and Sadie’s exchange. He had no idea how to get them all back on track, other than to keep moving forward with the meeting.
“Griffin, Kiely, either of you find any connection between Matthews and Capital X? Any former clients of either?”
Both shook their heads. Kiely detailed the channels investigated and gave a rundown of the areas she intended to check next. Griffin said he had a couple of more people to talk to.
He could only think of one more question pertinent to a sibling meeting. “Anyone hear anything from Brody?” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have asked, confident anyone who had would have contacted him immediately.
Silent shakes of the head were his only response.
He looked at the untouched food in the middle of the table.
“Eat up,” he instructed. Took a long sip of his beer. Fought the compulsion to leave the table and head straight for his office, closing the door behind him.
It was the only option that felt at all comfortable.
Ashanti came through, grabbed a piece of celery and cucumber slice off the tray, telling them all good-night before heading through the kitchen and out to her car.
Griffin helped himself to the tray.
“Is Tate back in town?” Pippa asked Sadie.
Good. Right. Riley looked toward Sadie along with the rest of them.
“He’s supposed to be,” she told them, reaching for a carrot stick, turning it back and forth between her fingers.
“You don’t know?” Kiely asked. Riley focused on the exchange, caring very much about Sadie’s answers. And glad that they were all talking. Like a family again.
He’d like nothing better than to have Tate Greer out of her life, though had no just cause for the feeling. Some might think he was just struggling because one of his baby sisters was getting married and he was having a hard time letting go. He knew it was more than that.
“Yes, I know. He’ll be back sometime tonight.”
“You have a flight number, right?” Pippa asked again.
Sadie shrugged, and Riley’s unease grew. Determined to stay out of it in case his intervention brought back the irritating silences, he left it to Sadie’s sisters to get what they all needed out of her. Confident they’d be as good or better at it than he’d be.
“You think he’s cheating on you.” Vikki stated things more often than she asked. And she spoke with the confidence only a twin could have.
“No!” Sadie looked around the table. “Of course not.”
“You sure?” Pippa asked quietly. Directly across the table from Sadie, she leaned forward. “We’re here for you, you know that.”
Sadie nodded. “I...just have some things to work out,” she said, and Riley quickly filed away Sadie’s lack of verbal confirmation regarding her assurance that her fiancé wasn’t cheating on her.
Torn between wanting to strangle the man for possibly hurting his sister, and cheering for the fact that there appeared to be a small chance that Sadie wouldn’t be marrying Tate, he wasn’t prepared when that same baby sister looked at him.
“We’re here for you, too, Ri. You know that, right?” Sadie asked.
Awkward! The compassion coming in his direction almost unseated him. Probably would have if Vikki hadn’t followed her twin’s words with, “You told us not to ask, and we aren’t, and we’re definitely here for you, but you do understand that, as we’ve just found out we’re becoming aunts, we do need some answers...sooner rather than later.”
“Especially since the woman who’s carrying our niece or nephew is right upstairs,” Kiely said, lowering her voice as though Charlize could suddenly hear them.
He doubted she’d allow herself to listen if she had been able to hear. But knew, based on where her room was located, that unless she’d left her room and was deliberately eavesdropping—which he knew she wouldn’t do—she couldn’t hear a thing.
“I...uh...hang on a second.” He went to his office, sweating, knowing he was making a mistake, but went anyway, and came back carrying a manila envelope, which he tossed into the middle of the table.
Griffin picked it up. Opened it. His brow rose, and he passed the contents to Vikki. She pulled them out. The entire string of photos that had been given to him that morning.
The room exploded into sound then.
Squeals and glee were followed by demands to “let me see.” Taking his beer bottle with him, Riley vacated.
Shutting himself in his office where he could get some much-needed work done.
Instead, sipping on his beer, he sat there feeling completely inadequate.
The sensation was new to him.
And he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Charlize munched crackers, waiting for Riley’s meeting to end before going downstairs to get something to eat. Skipping dinner hadn’t ever been much of a problem for her, but apparently, her child wasn’t going to be as easygoing about mealtime.
Her schedule was changing already, and from then on she was going to pay attention to proper nutrition all three meals every day. For a second the thought panicked her. Brought reality on like a huge wave gushing over her head. Overwhelming her. But much like playing in the ocean’s waves, it brought excitement, too. She’d checked a couple of times to see if the cars out back were clearing out.
Riley had said the meeting should only last about half an hour. It had been that. And then some. With her headphones on, playing some calming music, she was trying to write up reports from the phone meetings she’d had with several clients that afternoon. One of which had been to Laurene, Ronny Simms’s girlfriend, another to both of the Thompsons’ cell phones, catching them at work, and to James Barber’s girlfriend, as well. She’d listened carefully, asked pertinent questions, figured all three of them could be lying to her, but wasn’t sure if they’d been lying about violence in their own homes or outside them. There’d been no indication that any of them had more to hide from her than during her previous meetings.
At one point she was certain that James Barber was the man threatening her. Then just as sure it had been Ronny Simms.
She’d also doubted that it was either of them, too.
Finishing off the sleeve of crackers she’d started on the previous morning—the only time she’d actually experienced morning sickness—Charlize was debating whether or not she should just order out for dinner delivery when her phone rang.
Aunt Blythe. She’d yet to tell her about the baby. Both of her aunts were going to spoil the child like crazy; she knew that.
She picked up and asked her aunt how she was doing, and heard all about the day she’d had, about the ladies she and her sister had had lunch with. And how her sister was a little slower getting around and Blythe was glad to be there helping her—all of which eased Charlize’s guilt at being the reason Blythe had been forced to leave her own home.
And then Aunt Blythe told her something else. “The main reason I’m calling is... I thought you should tell that Mr. Colton... I took another one of the RevitaYou pills...”
“Aunt Blythe! Why would you...” she interrupted.
“I know,” her aunt interrupted right back. “I just...it’s hard enough accepting that I was swindled out of the money, but that I was scammed into believing in a worthless product... I just wanted to believe that there really was a way to get some youth back. I’m not ready to be old yet.”
“You aren’t old! Not by today’s standards with longer life spans! There are women twenty years older than you who still live alone and drive themselves to church.”
Not all that many who were that independent, but she knew of one, which meant there were others.
“I’m being silly, anyway,” Blythe said. “I am what I am and no pills are going to change that. I just want you to know, to tell Mr. Colton, the pill made me quite nauseated. I’m sure it was that this time because I was careful to pay attention to the other things I ate. I flushed the rest of the bottle. The case is still at home, under my bed, and you can feel free to dispose of them.”
Alarmed, Charlize asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Blythe had always been more of a mother to her than the woman who’d given birth to her. She couldn’t lose her now. Not when she was going to need a mother to see her through becoming one herself.
“Positive,” the older woman said, sounding stronger than Charlize had heard in a while. Maybe being with her sister, being needed, was good for her.
Maybe having a new baby in the family would be good for her, too. Give her more reason to live. More ways to be needed.
Promising to tell Riley about the pills, Charlize didn’t mention the threat she’d received at their home that morning, telling Blythe, instead, that she was firmly ensconced in a safe place and doing just fine. It wasn’t time to mention the baby. She needed her aunt to stay right where she was and not be worrying any more about Charlize than she was already doing. Instead, she told her aunt that the threat should be over very soon.
And hoped, for all their sakes, that she was right.