been away from her for so long, particularly after that weird phone call she’d received on Tuesday, but Brock needed him in Vancouver, so he had to finish the job.
It was now the following fucking Tuesday, and finally, at long last, the job was done. They were in charge of transporting and guarding an FBI informant. He and his family were being moved to Canada temporarily until some of the heat surrounding them died down, then they’d be moved up to Alaska and put into witness protection.
It was his and Brock’s job to fly down to LA, pick up the informant and fly back with him, all the while making sure he didn’t die.
Another team was in charge of bringing his family to Vancouver.
All in all, it had been a pretty uneventful job. The informant was a nice guy and complied with everything Brock and Rex told him to do.
So once they got to the safe house in Maple Ridge, it was just a sit and wait game until his family was brought to him.
Rex had talked with Lydia every night and sometimes during the day, too.
Nothing else had happened to her since the phone call, and although she was still shaken about it, she seemed to be in better spirits, particularly since she’d started working for James and Emma watching their twins, and she’d also looked after Zoe and Zane while Krista was on some day shifts.
Either way, he was eager to get back to her. Their relationship had started unconventionally and been whirlwind ever since.
He liked her.
Actually, he really liked her, and just because things between them were new didn’t mean they weren’t intense.
She’d also proven just how dirty she could be during their late-night call last night. The sound of her coming over the phone, knowing her fingers were inside her slick, warm pussy, had made him so fucking hard. He’d needed half a dozen Kleenex to clean up his load once he was done.
After they ended their call and he had a shower to get the sticky cum off his belly, he started to do a bit of hunting.
They had a lot of downtime on this job, so he’d already done the majority of his searching, but he hadn’t gotten an address yet.
By the time he went to sleep, he had an address, a phone number and half a dozen pictures of the person he was looking for, and before he and Brock left home for Victoria tomorrow, he intended to go and pay someone a much-needed visit.
“There’s a two o’clock sailing,” Brock said, lifting his head from where he’d been scanning his phone. It was Tuesday morning, and they were packing up their gear to leave. The informant’s family was now in Canada and at a different safe house near Whistler. The police had come and picked up Rex and Brock’s charge to take him to his family. “We can make it if we leave in the next fifteen minutes.”
Rex, too, was staring at his phone, but he wasn’t looking at the ferry schedule.
“Bro?” Brock grunted. “Two o’clock sailing work for you?”
Rex pinned his gaze on his brother. “Got a few things to take care of here. You head home. I’ll catch a later ferry or see if I can grab a flight with Harbor Air.”
Brock’s bushy brows bunched, and a darkness fell across his features. “No vigilante stuff. I’m having a hard enough time keeping tabs on Heath. I can’t be dealing with you going off the grid, too.”
“Heath’s hunting pedophiles. It’s not like he’s off chasing a poltergeist.”
Brock grunted again. “Might as well be chasing a ghost with how little he’s finding.”
“Dakota Creed is still out there, and with Chase doing the legwork on the computer but not ready to return to the field, it’s up to Heath and I. And Heath seems to be keen on heading down to Seattle as often as possible.” A grin tugged at his lips. “It’s not all business when he’s down there. He’s finding time for pleasure.”
Brock grunted for a third time. “And you? What are you planning then?”
“Gotta go check out a lead, that’s all. Ask some questions. Not going rogue, I swear. Won’t even touch ’em if I don’t have to.”
Brock grabbed his duffle bag from the corner of the bedroom and started filling it with his belongings. “This have to do with Lydia?”
“I told you she got a weird call last week, right?”
Brock grunted.
His eldest brother did a lot of grunting but not much talking. Chase was the same way.
“Not liking not having any answers. Not even a fucking fingerprint.”
“Anything else happen since the call?”
Rex shook his head. “At least nothing that Lydia relayed to me. She could be keeping other incidents a secret not to make me worry, but she doesn’t seem like the type. She’s putting on a brave face through all of this, but she’s really scared.”
Brock tossed his black hoodie into his bag after giving it a quick sniff test. “And you still think it’s someone else doing this shit to her?”
Rex gave his brother a look that he hoped conveyed just how pissed off he was at his suggestion that she might be faking it. It was tough to tell if it did convey anything, though, since Brock’s expression remained blank.
“You suggesting she’s doing this all herself? Why?”
“Attention? Maybe she’s got some mental health issues? You’ve known this chick less than two weeks, and eight of those days, you’ve been over here. She doesn’t know anybody in Victoria, she’s lonely, and she just got fired. All I’m saying is, look at this from every angle, including the ones you don’t want to think about.” Brock shrugged into his signature black leather jacket. He even wore it in the summer, which was just plain insane.
“You’re letting her look after your children and you’re suggesting she might be mentally unstable?” Rex countered, his hackles rising along with his blood pressure.
Another grunt.
Fuck, he was getting tired of the grunts.
“I’m sure she’s totally fine and not mentally unstable, but I’m trained—as are you—to approach a situation with an open mind and a willingness to examine all sides. Have you done that?”
No. He hadn’t.
He’d been so caught up in their whirlwind romance and saving her, he hadn’t stopped to really think that maybe there was more to this than he was seeing. After all, it all only started happening after she met him, didn’t it? She hadn’t mentioned any other incidents before they met.
Was this her cry for help?
Brock zipped up his bag. “Do what you gotta do, bro. I’m not going to stop you. Trust your instincts and shit. But just give what I said some thought, and stop by the house when you get back, if it’s not too late. Just had an inquiry for a new client pop up. I’m meeting her at five.” He lifted his chin, looped his hand through the duffle bag handles and hit Rex with a big-brother look. “Stay safe.”
Rex nodded, his mind now reeling with all that Brock had said.
Was Lydia behind all of this? Was that why they could only find her fingerprints on things? Because it was her doing all along?
He reached for his own bag off the floor and haphazardly shoved his belongings into it. The person he needed to see lived in East Vancouver, so he needed to figure out the fastest way there from where he was in Maple Ridge. Luckily, Vancouver public transit was impressive, and by the time he got downstairs to the foyer of the empty safe house, he’d planned his route.
He would be there within the hour, and then hopefully, by the time he left, he’d have more answers and fewer questions, because right now, his brain was overflowing with questions, and a lot of them were about Lydia.
Fatigue and uncertainty slowed his movements as Rex parked his truck in his brother’s driveway and shut off the engine.
Brock’s truck was in the driveway, as was Krista’s SUV.
With a weary sigh, he grabbed his phone from the passenger seat and opened his door. Although his efforts in Vancouver hadn’t been fruitless, they hadn’t provided him with the answers he needed. And as he sat on the ferry for ninety minutes, stewing in his own thoughts, only more questions popped up, their answers invisible, even to his extra powerful senses. Brock’s words stuck to him like an uncomfortable humid breeze. Was Lydia doing this all as a cry for attention?
He was about to knock on the door when it opened and Brock stood in front of him, stone-faced, a crease so deep between his brows, it was probably pressing on his brain.
“We need to talk,” Brock said gruffly, jerking his chin toward the basement.
Shit.
Had he uncovered something about Lydia?
And if so, what?
With a stomach full of knots, he followed his brother down the half flight of stairs to the basement and into his office. “What’s wrong?”
Brock jerked his chin at the door, and Rex closed it.
“New client.”
“Need to give me more than that.” But Brock didn’t really have to. His brother wouldn’t be looking at him like that if it didn’t have something to do with Lydia.
“New client is Odette Rockford.”
As if liquid nitrogen had been poured in his veins, Rex’s body turned ice cold. His hand tightened around his phone and keys, and his jaw locked.
Brock’s brows lifted, reading Rex’s reaction for what it was. “She is claiming that Lydia is harassing and stalking her. Says it’s been happening since just after Lydia was fired from the day care for being unprofessional, erratic and showing signs of mental instability.”
“She’s fucking lying,” he finally said, but even he could pick up the subtle inflection of question and hesitation in his voice. Brock definitely could. “First, she fires Lydia and now this? How do we know it’s not the other way around?”
“You haven’t found any prints, have you?” Brock asked gently. “I mean, it makes more sense for Lydia to be taunting the woman that fired her than the reverse, right? She has motive. What motive would Odette have?”
Rex scoffed. “We know fucking well you don’t always need a motive to be a psycho. We’ve seen enough sick fuckers in the world whose only motive is the fact that they derive joy from hurting others. Odette could be the same. How much have you looked into her? How do we know she’s not just a huge sadist and Lydia is just her most recent victim?”
Brock’s shoulder lifted. His leather jacket was hung up on a hook behind him. “Not a ton … yet. But we will. I’ve already sent everything to Chase, and he’s going to start digging.”
“Don’t you wonder why, of all the security companies out there, she came to us?”
“Of course I do. But if she is a threat, now we can keep an even closer eye on her. Maybe she’ll inadvertently reveal her hand and we can put it all to rest. But we have to look into her accusations.”
“Which are?” Rex spat out.
“Harassing phone calls, weird packages in the mail, following her. She even mentioned voodoo. Said before Lydia left, she put a curse on Odette.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Rex rolled his eyes so hard his brain hurt.
“Voodoo? Really? Come on. This bitch is whacked. I’ll go ask Lydia right now—”
“This is a case, and we are bound by confidentiality. You cannot talk to Lydia about this. Don’t even mention Odette. Just do what you do best and feel her out in other ways. Do some snooping.”
The thought of rooting through Lydia’s personal belongings in search of evidence against her made the knot in his stomach pull extra tight. His knuckles were starting to ache from how firmly he was holding on to his phone and keys. He shoved them into his pocket, pulled his hands free and wiggled them to get the circulation flowing again.
“How the fuck am I supposed to look Lydia in the face and not feel like a lying asshole?”
“Because it’s your job.” His big brother crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his office chair, causing it to creak in response to his bulk.
Fuck. Sometimes he really fucking hated his job. He’d thought more than once about giving his big brother his notice and going to work for Rick and his plumbing company full-time. Plumbers made good coin and could work nine to five. No more weeks on end away. He could sleep in his own bed every night, walk Diesel every day and have a normal fucking life. He also wouldn’t be forced to lie to the woman he was seeing because he’d just taken a job that could possibly result in her going to prison.
Son of a bitch.
“Check out her car. Glove compartment, trunk. Hidden storage compartments. When she’s in the shower, take a peek in her dresser drawers. Look for buried boxes and things put in unexpected places,” Brock suggested. “Be subtle about it.”
“I know how to do my fucking job.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never been sleeping with a suspect before.”
“Should I talk to Heath, get some pointers from him?” He regretted those words the moment they came out of his piehole. And the look on Brock’s face was as fatherly and scolding as they come. Last year, Heath had fallen hard for a woman, only she ended up not being who they thought she was, and he got hurt in the process. Not only his heart but physically. She’d ended up being one of the baddies, and it was a twist none of them—especially Heath—saw coming.
“Be the good boyfriend but also do your job. Are you capable of both? Or do I need to be the one to make up an excuse to come by her apartment and root through her closet and medicine cabinet?”
Rex glared at his brother. Brock was deliberately taunting him now. “You know I can do it.”
Brock’s eyes closed slowly, and he nodded once. “Good. Let me know what you find out.”
Rex’s nostrils flared, and he spun on his heel to leave, shoving his hands into his coat pockets so he didn’t suddenly get the urge to punch one of his brother’s office walls.
“With any luck, Lydia’s not guilty and it’s Odette stalking her, but either way, you know we need to take this shit seriously before it escalates,” Brock called after him.
He didn’t respond.
“Did you get done what you needed to do in Vancouver?”
Rex only grunted, taking a page out of his brother’s playbook.
“Answer some questions or just breed more?”
He paused in the doorway. “Both.”
Brock inhaled and clucked his tongue. “That’s usually the way. Sorry.”
Rex knew his brother’s sorry was intended for more than just the fact that Rex hadn’t gotten the answers he sought out in Vancouver, but he was too pissed off at the world to acknowledge it. He climbed the stairs to the front door, the sounds of children happily having a bath in the tub on the main floor echoing through the house.
He should go say hi to his sister-in-law, niece and nephew, but right now he was just not in the mood. He was expected back at the apartment. He’d texted Lydia earlier to say that he was just stopping at Brock’s and would be home shortly.
She hadn’t responded, but he figured she was probably out for a run with Diesel or something. At least he hoped that was the reason.
Worry spiraled through him.
What if she was in trouble and that’s why she didn’t answer?
Or what if she was up to trouble and that’s why she didn’t answer?
Fuck.
Brock had planted even more seeds of doubt in his mind. More seeds than he’d had earlier that day—also planted by Brock—but the lack of answers he got from the person he found in East Van had only caused those seeds to sprout.
Opening the front door, he stepped out into the cool spring evening. The heavy scent of blooming flowers hung in the air, and the sun was still visible in the sky to the west. Summer would be here before they knew it.
Longer days. Warmer nights.
He couldn’t wait.
And yet, his normal excitement for the solstice wasn’t there. It was too bogged down with worry and confusion and the reluctance that came with knowing what he would have to do once he got home.
It’d only been a couple of weeks, but he’d come to really care for Lydia, and now he had this big secret he had to keep from her and he had to betray her trust and start snooping.
He hit the fob for his truck, drank in a big gulp of fresh air and stared up into the clouds for answers.
They didn’t have any for him. Instead, it felt like they were mocking him.
He climbed into his truck, started the engine and backed out of his brother’s driveway, hoping to God that his gut instinct about Lydia wasn’t wrong and that this was all just one big clusterfuck that she was not at the center of.
But if family history proved anything, the men in his family were notorious for finding their way to the nucleus of clusterfucks and catastrophe.
Their dad, Brock, Chase, even Heath.
Now, it seemed like it might just be his turn to face the rapture.
He just hoped to fuck he wasn’t wrong about Lydia. Otherwise, he’d take it as a sign he was better off becoming a celibate monk.
He already had the hair for it.