Читать книгу Men Of Honour - Lori Foster - Страница 27

“READERS?” CHRIS DID a double take. What the hell did he mean by readers? Molly wrote? Like … what?

“She’s an author,” Dare told him as he began preparing the food. “One of her books is being made into a movie with Ryan Reynolds as the lead.”

Chris’s jaw loosened. Why did Dare just keep dropping bombshells on him? He’d already found her interesting, in part because Dare had brought her here, which was an aberration of the major kind.

But this was something altogether different.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nice language, asshole.”

Chris waved that off. It wasn’t like Dare was any better. Hell, neither of them was used to having a female around the place—not counting Tai and Sargie, who didn’t care what language they heard as long as they got treats and plenty of attention.

As a genuine movie buff, Chris felt suitably impressed. But then, he’d already been impressed with her before that. Somehow, Molly didn’t fit his vision of the creative sort. She wasn’t … glamorous enough. And she seemed far too grounded, instead of artistic.

But hell, she’d just been rescued from kidnappers who had battered her pretty badly. Maybe under better circumstances she had more savoir faire.

As he considered it, he realized that Molly didn’t fit any stereotype familiar to him. Most people in her situation would be either demanding of attention or withdrawn and fearful. Not Molly. Perhaps she was different with Dare, in private.

But in his presence, she wasn’t intrusive, needy or whiney. In fact, she tried hard not to inconvenience them in any way.

Chris shook his head. He knew Dare expected him to resent female intrusion, and before Molly, he would have. He protected his position, and he always had Dare’s back.

With Molly, there was no threat—not of the type he’d always guarded against.

If anything, he fell in line with Dare, sharing the need to keep her safe and help her feel secure.

“Ryan is a possible lead,” Molly corrected. “We’re waiting for confirmation….” She looked oddly chagrined, then downcast. “Well, actually, it might have already been confirmed or denied, but I haven’t had access to a phone or computer or anything.”

“Soon,” Dare told her.

“God, this sucks. I have no idea what’s going on with my career. But I was so focused on …”

“Surviving?” Chris supplied.

“Well, yeah. I was surviving, and so caught up in … in just holding it together that I …” She trailed off with a groan.

“You’re a trouper,” Chris told her in a grand understatement.

“I hope my editor or agent hasn’t been trying to get hold of me. What would they think? We were right in the middle of negotiations on this thing before I … I …”

Chris set the juice before her and pulled up a chair. He took her hand, so small and female, and wished he could have helped Dare destroy the ones who had done this to her. “Getting snatched by thugs is so damned inconvenient, isn’t it?”

She choked on a laugh and nodded with exaggeration. “More so than I ever could have imagined.”

Dare shot him a look of warning, which almost made Chris roll his eyes. He had to be the least threatening guy Ms. Molly was likely to come into contact with.

Even if he wasn’t gay, he’d have no sexual interest in her. Dare had already staked a claim. End of story.

But was he supposed to ignore the fact that she was a famous writer? No, of course not. “How long did they have you, Molly?”

“Dare helped me to figure out that it was nine days.”

Good God. Nine days of unending fear, pain, despair … Nine days of hell.

Overwhelmed with emotions he’d seldom felt, Chris gently squeezed her hand. “Well, then, I take back my earlier thoughts. You actually look incredible, all things considered.”

She snorted at that and, pulling her hand away, smoothed her hair behind her ears in a female show of insecurity. “Yeah, if looking like death warmed over appeals to you.”

He helped her tuck away a wayward strand. “Actually, you only look wounded, which sometimes appeals to the big protective male.”

“Chris …”

He laughed at Dare. “What I really meant was that I thought there were two types of writers, the glamorous ones who donned feather boas and dripped diamonds, and the harried ones who lived in a fantasyland.”

“I’m far from glamorous, and I’m only harried when I’m in the middle of a book. And when that happens, I can forget I have hair, much less how to groom it.”

Before Chris could ask for more details, Dare said, “We’ll be going to your place soon. You can get updated on everything important then.”

“Soon as in … like, when?”

“Depends. Probably in a couple of days.” He put the thinly sliced chicken into a hot skillet with spices. “You said you live north of Cincinnati, right?”

Molly toyed with her glass of orange juice. “It’s a small community, but nice. My apartment building is pretty old and quaint, but it’s comfortable for me.”

“Good security?” Dare asked.

“Not really. I mean, compared to this fortress, it’s just a plain old building. We have floodlights in the parking lot, and the halls are well lit. But we don’t have any hired guards or anything.”

“Is the front door kept locked?”

“Well … no.”

Chris shared a look with Dare. Most people were never forced to face danger in daily living. But as Dare’s personal assistant, he knew only too well the peril that could invade a person’s life, especially a woman.

It made him ill to think of Molly alone and susceptible to danger.

“It’s not that bad,” she told both men, recognizing their expressions of concern. “The locks on each apartment are sturdy, and we all have dead bolts, too.”

Only a small part of Dare’s attention was on the food. “You said the building is old. Do the windows lock?”

“I guess most of them do.”

When Dare turned toward her in exasperation, she rushed to explain.

“I’m on the upper floor, so I never worried about it as much as the people on the ground floor might.”

“It’s two stories? Do you have a fire escape?”

“Yes and yes.”

Chris always enjoyed seeing Dare in analytical mode. You could almost hear the gears turning as he figured things out in his mind.

“You need windows with secure locks.”

“Trust me, when I finally get my life back together, I’m going to be the most lock-happy woman you’ve ever met.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she shuddered. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel totally safe again.”

Dismissing that, probably because he was intent on ensuring her safety, Dare asked, “Busy area? Much traffic out front?”

“Not really, no. In fact, it’s really quiet. That’s … that’s how those men were able to grab me without anyone noticing. It’s a neighborhood of older people.” She breathed a little faster, a little more shallowly. “And it’s not that I’m oblivious to my surroundings, honest. I … I saw the old, rusty white van when I went out to the mailbox. But it just never occurred to me … I mean, why would I think that anyone wanted to grab me? It wasn’t the middle of the night, and I don’t live in the slums.”

Dare and Chris waited as she sorted the details out in her mind.

“I did wonder why it was just sitting there. Then, when I dropped my mail into the box, and I was ready to head back in, suddenly …” She faded off, staring at nothing in particular, sort of vacant and lost.

“Molly.”

Face pale, she lifted her gaze to Dare.

“They’re gone now, remember?”

Slowly, by small degrees, she gathered herself and nodded. “You killed them.”

“Yeah.”

Chris listened to the exchange in amazement. Dare had admitted that to her? He’d told her that he killed them?

Un-fucking-believable.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she relaxed again. “Where I live, older cars aren’t uncommon, but usually they’re sedans or compacts, not vans.” She shook her head. “Other than early evening, when the old folks sit on their porches, there aren’t a lot of people outside to pay much attention to what’s going on.”

Molly was about the most fragile woman Chris had ever met, but she also put up one hell of a good front. And she had a very likable disposition that excluded any self-pity at all.

She was shaken, but she wasn’t damaged. Hoping his curiosity wouldn’t upset her, Chris asked, “How’d they get you all the way to Mexico?”

“I don’t really know. They … someone held me down, and another guy gave me a shot of something. I fought to stay alert, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I passed out. I came to a few times, but before I could get my bearings, they’d stick me with another needle, keeping me drugged. When I finally came around, we were driving again, but in a different car. Everything was different. It was so hot, and I felt sick. Then they dragged me into that awful little shack.” She swallowed hard. “It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was in Mexico. But I never found out why.”

Deliberately removing Molly from those memories, Dare went back to cooking and told Chris, “Get her address and find the easiest way to travel there.”

Chris heard the edge in Dare’s tone and knew he was affected by Molly’s unrelenting manner, too. “Right.”

“I’d prefer to drive if I can go up and back in one day, overnight at the most. If that’s not possible, then charter another flight.”

Anxious to help her in any way that he could, Chris went straight to the computer area. “Nothing commercial, right?”

“Not until I know what’s going on.”

“Another private flight? Is that much precaution really necessary?”

“Yes.” Dare left no room for argument. “It is.”

Molly fretted. “But we have to finish discussing our—” she glanced at Chris “—terms.” And then, in a lower voice, and with a frown, “Dare, I’m not sure I want to pay for two chartered flights.”

Chris choked on a laugh, saw her face and sucked it up. “Why don’t you give me the address while you and Dare hash that out?”

Begrudgingly, she shared her address but then turned on Dare. “We need to talk about this.”

“You already hired me, and you already agreed to do things my way.” He turned the chicken as if he didn’t have a single concern. “It’s too late to change your mind now.”

She tucked in her chin. “Dare, I do not have unlimited funds. The way an author is paid … Well, it’s sometimes feast or famine. I’m not saying I’m poor, because I’m not. I’m very comfortable financially. But I need to check my accounts and see when my next big check is due.”

“Don’t worry about it right now.” And then to Chris, “What’s taking you so long?”

Never before had Chris seen Dare disconcerted by a woman. Usually his word was law, period. Intriguing stuff—not that he’d dare say so.

Chris turned his attention to the computer and typed in the address Molly had given him. “Hmm. It’s not far at all.” He skipped past Dare and glanced back at Molly. “Are you up for a four-hour drive?”

Looking mulish, voice low, she said, “Whatever Dare wants is fine by me.”

Such a loaded statement, full of possible sexual innuendo.

Knowing Dare was already poised to verbally shut him down, Chris quickly held up a hand. He wasn’t about to say anything that might make Molly uncomfortable.

He got back to business and finished checking a map. “It’s looking good. A fairly straight shot. Morning soon enough for me to finalize things?”

“What’s to finalize?” Molly asked. “You have the route right there.”

“Dare likes details. Lots and lots of details. He’ll want me to include where to stop to eat, and if eating isn’t necessary, then possible locations for a bathroom break. Any construction in the area. Any landmarks that he’ll pass that might be conducive to sabotage—”

Dare interrupted to say, “Morning is soon enough.”

“You taking your SUV or a rental?”

“Mine is fine.”

“Got it.” Chris couldn’t help but give in to a grin. It wasn’t that Dare showed much emotion; on the surface, he was the same cool cucumber. But Chris knew him better than that.

Probably better than anyone.

Sure, Dare and Trace were close. Alani, too. But as Dare’s personal assistant, Chris was involved in every aspect of Dare’s life. That gave him insights that the others wouldn’t be privy to.

And right now, he knew the biggest source of his boss’s temperament was a bad case of lust. Given the little lady had just gotten through an extended spell of abuse, with a very uncertain future ahead, Dare was too noble to act on that lust. Even though, Chris observed, Molly seemed to have her own wealth of feelings for Dare. It was there in the way she watched him, her body language when he was near.

But that could be gratitude as much as anything, which Dare had to realize, too. Dare had saved her, had slain her dragons, and he was now protecting her.

There was more than enough room for misconstrued emotions—on both ends.

Poor Dare, to find himself in such a complex romantic situation. It was going to be interesting to see how things rolled out.

Chris turned around on the desk stool. “Did you want me to clean up after you’re done in here?”

“I can do it,” Molly volunteered.

“Morning is soon enough for that, too.” Dare checked the veggies with a fork and decided they were steamed enough.

Since Chris didn’t care much for cleaning—immaculate conditions were Dare’s forte—he finished off his juice and put the glass in the dishwasher. “I left messages on your desk in the library, but did you maybe want them on your bedroom desk instead?”

“That’d be fine.”

“Some of them were from Trace. I think he’s hoping to somehow help with your …” He started to say complication, but when he glanced at Molly, he decided to censor the usual mockery and instead nodded toward her with his head. “With her.”

“I’ll touch base with Trace tomorrow, but he should really just concentrate on Alani right now.”

“True,” Chris said. “I’ll put an updated calendar in your room, too, although the next few weeks are pretty clear—”

“Dare?”

They both looked at Molly.

Chris noted her unease.

Dare must’ve, too, given how he gave her his full attention. “What is it?”

Hesitation had her fidgeting, but in the next breath she straightened her shoulders. “You said you don’t want me signing in to any of my online accounts.”

“No, I don’t.” He served up the meal on two plates. “We don’t yet know who wanted you taken, and I don’t know how smart or connected that person might be, but someone with a little computer experience could trail you here through your online activity.”

“I don’t think I know anyone with those types of skills.”

“You didn’t think you knew anyone who would have you shanghaied to Mexico, either, right?”

Expression tight, she said, “Which is why I’m happy to defer to your expertise.”

Chris stared at her with new respect. A lot of people quailed under Dare’s intense manner, but the way Molly said that was patronizing as hell.

No quailing for her.

“The thing is,” Molly continued, “I need something more respectable to wear, especially if we’re going to be four hours on the road. And it’s not a complaint, but it’s downright cold here in Kentucky, and in Ohio, too. I’ll need some warmer things.”

Dare looked over her casual clothes and agreed. “I suppose you do.”

“I think she looks comfortable,” Chris said. “Sort of sloppy-cute.”

“That’s because you have the fashion sense of a goat.”

Glad that he’d led Dare into that one, Chris said, “So you don’t think she’s cute?”

“Excuse me?” Molly looked at each of them with clear censure. “Do you think we could use your account to do some online shopping? I know my credit-card numbers and can charge it to myself but have it delivered here overnight. I don’t need much, because once we get to my apartment, I can grab my own things.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Chris said before Dare could. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Oh, no.” Opposed to that idea, she shook her head. “You were ready to go to bed. Really, I can do it.”

But Chris was already back on the computer. “Do you have a favorite place to shop and an idea of what you want? We can get it done right now.”

Dare didn’t hide his exasperation. “I wanted to talk to her about her disgruntled readers.”

“I multitask, as you know. Once she tells me what she wants, I can take care of most of it.” He went back to the computer. “Where do you shop?”

Deflated and probably overwhelmed, Molly gave in and told him.

Dare set her plate and a tall glass of water in front of her. “Eat up. And be sure to stay hydrated.” Ever so briefly, he touched her cheek. “I know you feel better, but you aren’t fully recovered yet.”

She smiled, then inhaled the fragrance of real food. “It smells fantastic.”

“Told you he was a good cook,” Chris said, amused by that telling exchange. “Okay, got it. Where to first? Slacks, tops, dresses or jeans? I’d put an outfit together for you, but as Dare already told you, I’m a fashion disaster. So, what are you thinking?”

Molly gave him direction in between eating.

Dare kept nudging the water at her until she drank half the glass.

Pulling up certain brands she’d suggested, Chris found that she was very easy to please. With little fanfare she chose dark designer jeans, black ankle boots, a simple white blouse and a thick charcoal pullover sweater with a self-tie belt.

“Here’s a nice corduroy blazer that’d go with it. What do you think?”

“That’ll work, but get it a size larger so it’ll fit over the sweater. Maybe a scarf, too?”

“Not a problem.” When he was ready to check her out, she came over and, leaning around him, typed in her credit-card numbers.

“To stay on the safe side, I’ll have it delivered to our post-office box in town. But don’t worry. I can go pick it up as soon as it arrives.”

“You make an amazing assistant.”

Dare gave a rude sound over that. “He’s a pain in the ass, but I tolerate him.”

Grinning, Chris turned on the stool toward him. “I’d like to say that you’d be lost without me, but that would be a lie. However, I know for a fact that I make your life more comfortable.”

Lifting his glass, Dare saluted him. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one.”

Chris accepted his due with a nod. To Molly, he said, “Dare has many areas of expertise, only one of them being organization and a certain finesse at details. But I excel at comfort—my own and others’.”

Molly smiled. “Comfort is high on my list of priorities, too. It’s one reason I’m a writer. I can write from my own home, in my jammies, drinking hot cocoa and listening to the music of my choice.”

“A dream job. If only I had the talent to write …”

“But you don’t, so you’re stuck with me.” Dare focused on Molly. “Tell me why you think a reader could be responsible for your abduction.”

She waved off his question. “I didn’t really mean that. I was just being snarky.”

They both waited for an explanation of that.

She pushed away her mostly empty plate. “Well, the thing is, my last book garnered a lot of controversy. There was a vocal group of readers who really …” She looked from Dare to Chris, and shrugged. “They were really pissed off with a certain twist in the plot.”

“How do you know?” Chris asked.

“Trust me, readers make sure you know when you’ve let them down.”

Chris noticed that she didn’t look overly hurt by that.

“They reach authors through online reviews, emails, written letters. And that’s a good thing, just not so fun when there’s so much of the negative stuff.”

Dare sat back in his seat. “How’d the book do with all that reader disgruntlement?”

“Great, actually.” In an effort to explain to them, she leaned forward, elbows on the stone bar. “With every book, there are good reviews and bad reviews, rants and raves, readers who love it and readers who hate it, and a whole bunch of reactions that are in between those extremes. You know the old saying where you can’t please all the people all the time. The same goes for reviewers and readers.”

Dare didn’t look convinced. “So it wasn’t a big deal?”

“Well, it was a big deal to me, at least in some ways. Given the level of anger over it, I’m sure I lost some longstanding readers. No matter what, I hate to disappoint anyone, but I especially hate to let down loyal readers who’ve been reading me from the beginning.”

“Bummer,” Chris said.

“But …” She lifted her shoulders. “I also gained new readers and expanded my audience. Truth is, if I had it to do over again, I’d do it exactly the same way, because I have to write a story the way it wants to be written, not the way readers want me to. That’s how my muse works. If I fought that natural process, I’d probably never get a book done, and I probably wouldn’t be as successful.”

Still not entirely sure he understood, Chris told her, “Good for you.”

“The level of anger you mentioned,” Dare said, bringing the conversation back around to possible suspects. “Give me an example.”

A little embarrassed now, she glanced away. “There were threats, with people wanting to beat me up, people wishing terrible things would happen to me. But most of it was posted online for all the world to see, so I can’t imagine that anyone was serious. They were just letting off steam. In a way, it’s really a compliment.”

Chris stared at her. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“If the reader wasn’t so invested in my characters, it wouldn’t matter enough to get angry over it. Right?”

“If you say so.” Dare left his seat and headed for the computer. “Where can I find this stuff on the Net?”

Aghast, she said, “You’re going to look at it right now?”

“Why not?”

“Well …” Again she looked at both men. “Okay, call me vain, but I don’t really want you to see all the bad stuff said about me or my books.”

Chris couldn’t help but grin. “Think we’ll get the wrong impression?”

“Of course you will.” She left her seat to rush after Dare. “Seriously. There’s no point—”

They both stopped next to Chris. Dare touched her chin, lifting her face up and silencing her at the same time. “You promised to trust me and to do as I said.”

“Sure. But you don’t know anything about this industry.”

“No, but I understand you, and you’re worried that I’ll feel sorry for you.”

She drew back, surprised.

Chris wasn’t. In most instances, Dare was damned astute. But in this case, things were pretty obvious. Molly didn’t want sympathy after the ordeal she’d suffered, so of course she wouldn’t want it over a few internet slights.

“Look,” Chris said, “if you said it’s routine to get slammed on occasion, I buy it. What section of the entertainment industry doesn’t get hammered on a regular basis? And besides, you have a book being made into a friggin’ movie. How awesome is that? You’re a star, and regardless of what a few reviews might say—”

“Over three hundred reviews.”

Dare lifted both brows. “Seriously?”

Chris blew it off. “Whatever. You’re still a resounding success.” Rather than drag out the suspense for her, he turned back to the computer. An internet search of her name brought up plenty of hits. “Bingo. Found some sites.”

Molly went rigid. “Fine, you two want to see all the gory details, go ahead. But you can do it without me. I’m going to bed.”

She was almost through the kitchen doorway when Dare said, “Molly?”

Shoulders still stiff, she paused. “What?”

“If you need anything during the night, my room is across the hall, next to the great room.” He stared at her back. “Anything at all.”

“Thanks.” And with that squeaky reply, Ms. Molly Alexander fled the room.