More than a Maid (30 page)

"How'd you hear about that? It didn't make news up there, did it?"

"
No, it wasn't on the news here but word travels fast. Someone sent me a link to a newspaper and said it was the place where you're working
." He clicked his mouse. "
There's a video. Is this the guy? Ramon Barboza?
"

Marcy gasped, sharply. "Oh no! It's online?" Ramon gave an interview from his front yard a day earlier, and he had been elated the previous evening to find that it didn't air on the nightly news. She immediately turned to the computer. "Hold on… let me find it…" Frantic, Marcy did a search for San Antonio news. "Crap. I don't even know the names of the TV stations here."

"
That's okay, you haven't been there long. You'll be back home soon, right?
"

Marcy's stomach tightened in response to the finality in his question. She ignored it, focusing on the website she had just found. "Oh, wow. It's right here on the front page. 'Remains discovered on local ranch point to decades old homicide…' Oh… no…"

"
Are you safe there? The news says they're holding a man for questioning
." Andrew read aloud, quoting an article as he read it. "'
Fifty-nine-year-old Henry Clifton Platt of Turnbrook.' You know him?
"

"I haven't met him yet. He'd been gone for months but he came back the other day. I stayed out of the house until everything calmed down so I didn't get to meet him. He should be home under house arrest soon, awaiting a trial."

"
What?
" Fear was evident in Andrew's tone. "
You're gonna
live
with this guy? He's a murderer! Come back home, please. I'm worried about you.
"

Marcy rolled her eyes. "He's not—" Then she stopped when she realized she may be giving him information the news didn't have, and nosy Andrew didn't need to know. "Don't worry. It's not what you think. There's no danger."

"
I had a really bad feeling about you going there to work in the first place. I'll be glad when you're back home.
"

She chuckled sarcastically. "Sure. Because Newark's such a safe place to live, right?" Then her call waiting beeped, and she saw her Aunt Joyce's phone number, but she didn't click over. "Great. It's Aunt Joyce. She probably heard about it, too. She only calls when there's gossip. I'm sure she's told everyone she knows by now."

"
I told you, word travels fast. It's not every day you hear a story like this and realize you know someone involved in it
."

"I wouldn't say I'm
involved
in it." She turned up the volume on the computer and clicked play on the news report. "Do me a favor and don't tell anyone else about this. I'd like to keep the nosy phone calls to a minimum."

"
When are you coming back? Hasn't Cara gotten married already?
"

Annoyed, Marcy paused the video. "Yes, she got married on Saturday. And I'll come back when I'm ready. Got it?"

Andrew sighed. "
Fine, whatever. I was just checking on you, Marcy. I'm worried. You don't have to get snippy.
"

"You're right. I'm sorry." Then she changed the subject to one that would hopefully remind her ex-boyfriend that he was still her ex-boyfriend. "So, you still seeing that girl you me about? Charlene?"

"
It's Charlotte, and we're keeping it casual for now.
"

"Oh. That's too bad."

"
So, you actually live with this guy in the video? Like, in his house?
"

"Yeah. So what? It's a huge house with six bedrooms."

When he paused, Marcy could hear him listening to the video. He then asked, "
You're not sleeping with this guy, are you?
"

Marcy's jaw dropped. "Why would you ask me that?"

"
Well? Are you?
"

She let out a long, frustrated groan. "That's none of your damn business. Do you know how offensive it is that you'd even assume such a thing? Like, just because I'm living in his house, it must mean I'm sleeping with him?" Nevermind that his assumption was true. It was still none of his damn business.

"
You're protesting a little too much. I'm right, aren't I?
"

"You and I are broken up. Don't forget that. I'm hanging up now."

As she lifted her hand to press the button to end the call, she heard him yell, "
If you hadn't dumped me you'd be married instead of living with a murderer right now!
"

Marcy hit the button and slammed her phone down on the desk, muttering, "Good riddance."

Then she played the video. Fifteen seconds in, a visibly annoyed Ramon stood in his yard, flanked by his brothers.

Marcy smiled, her heart racing. The sight of Ramon made her forget about her anger.

* * *

By Friday, Henry was at home under house arrest, awaiting a trial. Elsa resumed her duties as cook and housekeeper. Tom and Patty returned to New Jersey, taking Isaac with them temporarily. Victor and Cara were again on their honeymoon, and would rejoin Isaac in a week before they all moved to Turnbrook. Armando and Katie were days away from resuming their honeymoon as well.

While Ramon worked on his ranch that Friday, Marcy was in Ramon's office, working. At noon, she heard the doorbell ring. When it rang again a minute later, she rose to answer it, wondering where Elsa and Henry were.

"Hello?" Marcy opened the door.

A tall, plump woman with long blond hair and a low-cut dress stood on the porch like she was there with a purpose. "Hello?" She nervously cleared her throat. "I'm looking for… uh… Ramon Barboza?"

"Are you a reporter?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No." She peered around Marcy, into the house. "Is he here?" Then she straightened her posture, her eyes narrowing in sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry. I heard he wasn't married… but… are you his girlfriend?" she asked with a hint of disappointment.

"Yes. How do you know him?"

She chewed on her cheek for a moment, her eyes floating around. "Well… I met him at a bar a few months ago. Didn't know his last name or where he lived until I saw him on the news. How's he doing?"

Marcy's stomach twisted. Another one? "Did you sleep with him?"

The woman's eyes widened. "Uh… wow. I didn't expect you to ask that." Her cheeks turned red. "Yeah. I'm sorry to have to tell you that. He told me he didn't have a girlfriend." She rolled her eyes. "In fact, he told all of us he didn't have a girlfriend."

"Well, he didn't at the time… wait. What do you mean,
all
of us?"

The stranger went on to say that between comments at the news station's website and Facebook page, she knew of at least three other women who claimed to have "relations" with the hot guy on the news. Some of them were angry with Ramon. Others took up for him. And this stranger—whose name Marcy didn't care to ask—was obviously hopeful to rekindle a connection with him.

After listening to her story, Marcy politely said goodbye, slammed the door, then ran to the office to do some research.

And there they were. Long strings of comments, some good, some bad. Most of them were friendly people who ignored all of the negative comments and wanted to offer their support because they had known Ramon for a long time.

Marcy had just found the girl who showed up at the house when she heard Ramon burst in through the back door.

"Hey," he said, strolling into the office. "You eat lunch yet?"

She glared at him.

He smirked and took off his hat, placing it on the desk. "What the hell?"

It usually turned Marcy on to see him like this. Clothes a little dirty and sweaty, T-shirt clinging to his sculpted muscles. But all she could think about was the stranger who'd ruined her day, and all the women who had come before her in his life.

Marcy folded her arms across her chest, nodding at the picture on the computer monitor. "Do you remember this girl?"

Ramon took a deep breath and bent across the desk, squinting. "I don't know, maybe. Why?"

"You slept with her! And at least five or six others, and those are just the ones who are admitting it online. How many are there?"

"Shit." Ramon's eyes drifted to the wall. "
This
again. I told you there were women before you, and—"

"How many?" she asked, yelling.

Ramon looked in her eyes. "I don't know but it's probably not as many as you think." He put his hand on his forehead, wincing. "Damn it, it was before I met you! I can't change the past! And I'm tired of having this argument."

Marcy stood with a loud sigh. "Well,
I'm
tired of feeling like a joke. I saw the way Jocelyn looked at me. And then that girl today. They probably feel sorry for me."

"That girl today?"

"Yeah." She thumbed at the picture on the computer. "She came to the door, looking for you." Then she turned to the picture, studying it. "So, are you one of those jackasses who waits till the bar's about to close then you hit on all the chubby, drunk girls who haven't hooked up yet because you think they're desperate? That's sleazy."

His jaw dropped. "No!" He placed his palms on the desk and gave her a direct stare. "I
never
did that."

Marcy lifted one brow. "Then how do you explain
that
chick? You told me you like girls who look like me. Remember? And I know I've gained some weight recently but that girl is at least twice my size."

Ramon scoffed. "So what?" He looked at the computer, eyes narrowed. "I remember that girl. I think she was even bigger than that the night I met her. And I thought she was pretty. That's why I introduced myself. It was early in the evening and we weren't even drunk." He turned to Marcy, his tone arrogant. "Wanna hear more?"

Marcy gritted her teeth, growled, then flew around the desk to the center of the room, avoiding his stare. "I don't wanna hear anything! I should've seen this coming. Ever since that night you told me the story about '
La Lengua
.'" She spun around, facing him. "What kind of guy does that?"

"What the fuck?" He took a step toward her. "You need to calm down. We all have stuff we'd rather keep private. Imagine if
you
were on the news with all this Internet bullshit. You think you wouldn't have a few skeletons fall outta
your
closet, Little Miss Perfect?"

Too angry to respond, Marcy stomped out of the room.

* * *

Ramon thought about chasing Marcy, but he was in no mood to bite his tongue. Not after the week he'd had. It'd be better if they both calmed down.

He was considering his lunch options when he heard her cell phone ring. She'd left it on the desk.

So, he picked it up and saw the name, "Andrew," immediately recognizing it as her ex-boyfriend.

Feeling cocky, Ramon answered. "Hello."

The caller hesitated, then said, "
This is Marcy's phone, right? Marcy Cameron?
"

"Yeah." Ramon deliberately made his tone sound casual. "You're that ex-boyfriend of hers, right? The one she dumped when you took her ring shoppin'?"

Andrew snickered. "
You that redneck she's working for? The one who's got her living with a murderer?
"

Ramon's neck tensed. "I'm the guy who's gonna come to New Jersey and kick your ass." He glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering how quickly one of his brothers could get him on a private jet.

Marcy ran into the room. "Give me that!"

Ignoring her, Ramon ended the call and held the phone straight up and out of her reach, scrolling through her call history.

"What the hell are you doing?" She screamed, pawing at his hand.

"Huh." Ramon's eyes narrowed at the phone, pushing buttons with his thumb. "How often does that motherfucker call you? You spoke to him the other day for a long time."

Frustrated, Marcy kicked his shin.

"Damn it!" Ramon grunted and handed her the phone.

She took it, glaring up at him. "You're lucky. I was gonna kick you someplace else that would've ruined your day."

Ramon stared down his nose at her. "I can't trust you at all, can I?"

"What the hell?" Mouth gaping, she peered up at him. "Why? Because I talk to Andrew once in a while?"

Ramon turned away from her, shaking his head. "He's your
ex
. And he knew who I was. What'd you tell him about me?"

"Nothing! He called because he heard about Henry and he was concerned." She paused, groaning. "I don't owe you an explanation. I didn't do anything wrong. You're just looking for a reason to fight with me."

"You shouldn't be talking to your ex-boyfriend! About me or anything else!" Ramon shook his head, anger erupting inside him. "I should've learned the first time when you stabbed me in the back a few weeks ago."