Beautiful Sinner Page 11

  So I’m not allowed to fall in love with the desperate old men. I think I can handle that. "So I can work here?"

  I’m surprised by how little she needs to know to hire me. Then again, I think living, breathing, with a vagina might be the only non-negotiables.

  "We’ll have to wait for the tests and your birthday, but I think you’re just what a few of my clients are looking for." She pushes her chair away from the desk. "Excuse me, while I get some forms off the printer."

  She walks into the other room and I’m left with a choice. Since I don’t have any time to waste, I gamble. Jumping up, I lean over her desk and grab her mouse. I click around until I find the appointments calendar on her desktop. Opening it, I scroll until I find what I’m looking for.

  May.

  Whoever she is, she’s popular, because she’s booked out through the end of the next week. Before I can talk myself out of it, I schedule a fake name in the next available time slot. I use my real number. Hopefully, they don’t call to confirm bookings like the hair salon. The only thing left to decide is where, and I happen to have an in at the West Resort. It’s going to be fun to explain this one to Jameson. I’m clicking finish when the screen freezes. Shooting daggers at the wheel of death that’s replaced the mouse’s curser, I count the seconds until it stops and I can close the schedule. I’ve just sat back down when Suzanne reappears.

  "This has all your forms as well as the clinic information. Call and tell them Suzanne sent you when you make your appointment."

  I nod as she continues, but my mind is elsewhere.

  "Do you have any questions, Caroline? Caroline?"

  It takes me a hot minute to remember she’s talking to me. "Sorry. I started thinking about having my blood drawn," I lie. "I hate it."

  "A necessary precaution." She passes the folder to me as she shows me to the door, then she winks. "I think you’ll find it’s worth it."

  Chapter 15

  Maddox is waiting for me in the driveway, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out how he knows we switched. Josie leans against the side of his car, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger and giggling. The girl could give lessons on how to flirt. I can’t help but admire the scene. If my bodyguard is upset about the bait and switch, she’s thoroughly distracted him. Then again, when I press the garage door button, he whips around and glares at me.

  Busted.

  I pull the car inside and brace myself as I get out. I knew there’d be a price to pay for my little stunt.

  "Do you understand that when you pull shit like that I get in trouble?" Maddox yells at me as soon as I’m out of the garage. Veins pulse in his meaty neck as he continues, "I like my job. I like to eat."

  For a second I imagine what it takes to feed him in a day: a couple dozen eggs, maybe a few whole chickens. He’s that big. In past centuries, his ancestors were probably mistaken for gods. I swallow hard before I respond. "I’m sorry, but I tried to tell Jameson that I didn’t want to be followed."

  "So instead you made me look like a fool." Maddox crosses his arms and glares at me. "I’m going to have to tell him what happened."

  That I expected. Part of me is surprised that he hasn’t already been in contact with Jameson. "When you talk to him remind him that I’m his girlfriend not his child."

  "I don’t care if you’re his prize canary, he hired me to protect you," Maddox grumbles.

  "You don’t have to tell him," Josie suggests. She moves to Maddox’s side and strokes his shoulder. She practically has to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. I shoot her a warning look that she ignores with a shrug. "If he doesn’t know, you can’t get in trouble."

  "That’s very sweet of you, Miss Deckard." Maddox softens in her presence, shifting from a hardened military man to a cuddly teddy bear. It’s simply further proof of Josie’s magic touch in the man department. He smiles down at her but then he puffs out his chest as if to remind both of them what a big badass he is. "I have a duty, though."

  "To protect and serve the highest bidder," I mutter under my breath. Thankfully, he’s too mesmerized by my best friend to notice.

  "I’m going in," I announce loudly in the hopes that I can convince Josie to stop playing with her new toy and come with me. There’s so much to tell her.

  "You have my phone number," Josie reminds him. She scampers into the house behind me, laughing. "You didn’t tell me he was such a pushover."

  "I’m not certain his training included warding off horny, teenage girls," I say dryly.

  Josie wags her finger at me, but her lips twitch with a grin. "Hey, I resemble that remark."

  We’re still teasing each other when we walk in on Josie’s mom in the living room. Well, not just her mom, but rather her mom kissing some guy. Josie halts on the spot and gasps. I do my best to shush her but the couple pulls apart.

  "Oh girls, I didn’t expect you home so soon!" She swipes at her smeared lipstick, doing her best to straighten her bunched skirt.

  "School’s out for the summer," Josie informs her. "You’re lucky I was out."

  "I saw Emma’s notes," she says, obviously flustered.

  I shoot Josie an apologetic look. After showing up at the ass-crack of dawn the other day, I thought it would be more courteous to give Marion a heads up on when I would and wouldn’t be here.

  "Hi." I step in to try to smooth over the situation. "I’m Emma."

  Marion’s date takes my outstretched hand tentatively. I can’t decide if he’s shy or if he’s never seen a girl shake hands before. Either way, his palms are sweaty and when no one’s looking I wipe my own hand on my romper.

  "Emma, this is Anton." Marion smiles affectionately as she introduces the new man in her life. Anton for his part is as nondescript as they come except for two defining characteristics: thinning brown hair and round glasses that lean more toward spectacles than most modern eye wear.

  When no one speaks again and Josie doesn’t step forward to introduce herself, I take the initiative. "What do you do?"

  "I’m an accountant." He sighs as he tells me. "Not very exciting, I guess."

  Considering that my life could use a whole lot less excitement at the moment, I think dating an accountant sounds pretty sexy.

  "Can I make you guys a snack?" Marion offers, tapping her finger nails together like a broken clock.

  "We already ate," Josie says coldly.

  I don’t bother to correct her, even though I could go for a bite. If she isn’t careful, we’ll be making a pilgrimage to In-N-Out later to rectify the situation. Josie stomps down the hall and slams her bedroom door shut behind her.

  When I duck into her room, Josie shuts the door softly behind me, then leans against it.

  "What's wrong?" I ask.

  "That guy," she whispers, and I lean in so that she can keep her conspiracy on the DL. "I dated him a few weeks ago."

  I suck in a breath and try to think of something reassuring to say. It's pretty hard given that I want to yell at her. I have been waiting for this to happen; a single mom, who even I have to admit is a MILF, and her teenage daughter with a taste for older men, adds up to either a really bad sitcom or a really good V.C. Andrews novel.

  "Let me have it," she says when I stay quiet.

  "Sheesh, Josie! You have to have seen this coming. I don't know where to begin!"

  "Maybe with the fact that this is all my fault," Josie suggests. "That you knew this was going to happen and it was only a matter of time until trouble?"

  "Sounds like you have it covered. Let me know when you need me to jump in."

  Her lower lip begins to tremble and I immediately regret what I just said. "What am I going to do?"

  "Look, he can't have known, and now that he's seen you he's going to break up with her."

  "Mom really likes him and I fucked it up."

  "Um, he really likes seventeen-year-old girls. I'm not entirely certain that you're not doing her a favor."

  "He didn’t know how old I was. I lied about my age," she
admits.

  "Do you do that with all of them?"

  "The nice ones," she says. "Some of them like knowing that I’m younger."

  I shudder, thinking about that. I pat the bed next to me and she comes over to sit down. "So, he was a nice one?"

  "Yeah." It’s not like her to be so quiet, but, then again, she’s not usually sorry about who she dates.

  "Then he’s going to break up with her, and if he doesn't, then we'll figure it out," I promise.

  She rests her head on my shoulder, her curly locks tickling my neck.

  "Besides, I have lots of things to tell you that I promise will prove a distraction."

  "Oh," she claps her hands and jumps to her feet. Scientists should study how rapidly her moods swing. "I want to hear all about it but first I'm going to go to the bathroom, okay?"

  I nod. Now that Maddox has figured out our little ploy, there’s no need to keep up our Parent Trap pretense. By now, he’ll have delivered news of my shenanigans to Jameson, who’ll hopefully take the hint that I’m not putting up with a bodyguard.

  I grab my purse and start taking out Josie’s stuff from our earlier switcheroo. Before I can throw her phone on the bed, a notification pops up for Instagram. It takes me a second to remember what her lock screen code is, but before I can see what photographic delights our friendly, anonymous stalker has in store for us, Josie reappears and snatches it from my hands.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Um, looking at your phone." It seems obvious to me, but given the shock registered on her face I guess maybe it's not to her.

  "I didn't tell you you could look at my phone."

  "What crawled up your snatch?" I ask her.

  "You!" she shrieks. "First you sit there and judge me after I've given you a place to sleep, even though you're keeping things from me."

  Okay, she’s totally lost it. Hadn’t she been fine minutes ago? "I’m not keeping anything from you!"

  "Oh, like where were you going today that I couldn't tag along?"

  "Somewhere where I needed my bodyguard not to go," I remind her. "I was about to tell you everything I did."

  "Save it, Emma. Ever since you met Jameson West you've been a different person."

  Standing up, I dump the contents of her purse on the bed and grab my phone and wallet. She's being totally unreasonable. "You think I'm judging you?"

  "I know you're judging me, but you're too nice to even say it to my face."

  "Fine!" I explode. "You treat these little romances of yours like games and you always knew someone was going to get hurt. This time it's your mom. What happens when you ruin someone’s marriage or get some poor schmuck arrested?"

  "I'm going to be eighteen soon." She dismisses my argument with a roll of her eyes.

  "But you weren't always eighteen. How old do these guys even think you are? Wait, don't answer that because I really don't want to know anything more about this."

  "Of course you don't because you just want to pretend you're my best friend."

  I have absolutely no clue how things escalated this quickly. A few minutes ago she was leaning on me for support and I was preparing to spill my guts about everything that happened in Palm Springs. Now I'm glad I hadn't. This betrayal cuts deeper than the others I experienced this summer, which is saying something. She's being irrational, but I'm not going to waste my time telling her that. "I thought I could count on you."

  "You can. Here's a little judgement for you," she offers when I reach her bedroom door. "You have a boyfriend accused of murder who’s hired a bodyguard to stalk you. Your step daddy is a movie producer and you're driving a brand new Mercedes. Stop acting like we should all feel sorry for you."

  "Because my life is so perfect," I hiss. "You have no idea how hard things have been."

  "Save it, Emma. If I want a dose of reality I'll take a look at my own life."

  "Then I suggest you do that soon," I throw open the door. I rush out of the house past a startled Marion and her new boyfriend slash Josie's ex. As soon as I'm out the front door, I run directly into Jameson's chest, but I don't feel like being comforted by him right now.

  "Get off me," I shove him and hurry down the sidewalk.

  "Where are you going?" he demands.

  "None of your goddamn business," I call over my shoulder.

  "Emma, wait!"

  But I don't listen. I jump in the car and back out, nearly running him over in the process. From now on no one is going to stop me, no one is going to make choices for me, and no one is going to tell me what to do.

  Chapter 16

  The nice thing about Las Vegas is that if you drive fast enough for long enough, you'll hit the desert. Then you can drive as angrily as you need to.

  I don't bother to look at my odometer when I reach open road, all I know is that the Mercedes has sports mode and I'm going to put it through all its paces. I don't have to check behind me to know that Jameson is following. Maybe he gave Maddox the day off and decided he'd do the job himself. But either my car isn't as fast as his BMW or he just knows how to work his better because after a few minutes he pulls alongside me driving the wrong direction. He casts a furious glance my way and then cuts ahead of me.

  I resist the urge to speed up when his brake lights flicker on. He's slowing us down, no doubt forcing me to come to a stop, but I'm not going to make this easy on him. Too many things have been handed to Jameson in his life. If he wants me he's going to have to fight for me.

  Glancing down, I discover that he’s slowed us down to about thirty miles per hour. I’ve just decided to stop fighting him, when he races forward and screeches to a halt allowing the back of his car to slide so that he's blocking the road entirely. I slam on my own brakes and jump out of the car.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

  "Please give me a lecture," he retorts, "when you're racing through Las Vegas going a hundred miles per hour!"

  At another time that might have embarrassed me. I don't want to explain to him how I'm feeling. That I needed to get away from Josie's house and Belle Mère and this whole mess as quickly as possible. Two days with the car and I've already started treating it like a toy.

  "We all have to die sometime," I say with a shrug.

  "You don't mean that." I open my mouth to protest this, but he keeps going. "And if you do, then we have bigger problems. What you did was reckless."

  "I know." I cross my arms over my chest, unable to ignore the wave of guilt that overcomes me. Speed had been a factor in Becca's death. It’s one of the reasons I didn't want to drive. I didn't want the power of a car in my hands. The second I'd gotten one, I abused it. "I'll get rid of the car."

  "I'm not talking about the car, Duchess." His gaze drops to the ground and he shakes his head, his frustration with me only making me feel worse. "I'm talking about tricking Maddox."

  "That was for your own good," I informed him.

  "Exactly how is putting yourself in danger for my own good?" His blue eyes flash like the tip of a flame and he lunges forward grabbing me by the arm. "Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?"

  "Do you?" I ask him.

  "I guess I do since I'm smart enough to realize that if someone pushed you through a window, then you know something."

  "I don't!" I scream. "This whole thing is a giant mix-up and I'm tired of trying to keep everything straight. We're all tangled together like a big bowl of noodles. I can't tell which lies are mine and which belong to other people anymore."

  "Slow down and start from the beginning. Is there anything you haven’t told me?"

  I glower at him, but he may as well know. "I overheard something at your house that night. When I confronted Leighton about it—"

  "Wait, what did you overhear?"

  I wave off his question. "It's not important."

  "Like hell it isn't!" he growls.

  "Get your caveman in check," I warn him, "or I'm not telling you anything."<
br />
  Jameson steps back and runs both his hands through his copper waves. He pauses like that, as if he's considering pulling out his own hair, but he waits for me to continue.

  "I overheard something. I asked Leighton about it, someone pushed us."

  "But you aren’t in danger," he mutters. "What did she tell you?"

  "Nothing. She never got a chance to."

  He looks to the sky as if pleading with the Gods for patience. Then he turns the full force of his smoldering gaze on me. I can't say no to that look, not when it's coupled with his strong jawline and insane good looks.

  "What did you want to find out from her?" He rephrases the question.

  If I tell him what I overheard, he’ll know I doubted him. I make a choice knowing that I can't quite anticipate what the consequences will be. "She was talking to Monroe, something about that she had seen what had happened and she was protecting him."

  "Who is him?" Jameson asks in confusion.

  "To be honest, I assumed it was you, at first."

  "Go on," he says after a moment of silence that seems to extend farther than the desert surrounding us.

  "I thought she was talking about you. She was telling Monroe that she had seen what had happened, but that she wasn't going to tell anyone what he had done."

  "And you thought she was talking about me killing my father?"

  "I didn't know what to think. Everything was chaos. You'd just been arrested and—"

  "You don't have to explain yourself," he stops me in a soft voice, but the disappointment in his tone says otherwise.

  "I only wanted to know what she was talking about. When I confronted her, she told me they'd been talking about Jonas."

  "You told me that night you believed I was innocent, but you still jumped to that conclusion." He's not interested in what Leighton might know about Jonas, only in what conclusions I'd drawn about him.

  "I did. I still do," I whisper.

  "Why?" It's less of a question and more of a plea. "I don't understand how you can believe me. Sometimes I don't even believe myself."