She Does Know Jack (31 page)

Liar
, his hat glared
from the desk like a beacon, sometimes flashing
Dodger
in his face.
Reaching for the cap, he fingered the brim. The hollowness in his gut had
nothing to do with dodging a relationship.
Did it?

Jack frowned at
the two letters adorning his hat. Despite the turmoil eating his gut, a smile
tugged his lips. How had Brielle nailed his nickname like that? Dodger wasn’t
literally on there. Hell, there was no
D
at all. It was a figurative
reference to a major league baseball team, a gift from his men and yet…she
knew.  

Jack shook his
head. With a grunt, he tossed the cap onto the blotter, determined to put
thoughts of the distracting woman aside. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered on an
exhale, his voice a little gruffer.

“What doesn’t
matter?” Matthew asked, entering the study.

Jack shook his
head. Ever since they were young, his brother always did have a knack for
walking in on his grumbles. He used to latch on and nag. But Jack had long
since gotten into the habit of ignoring his younger brother’s questions. He
just hoped to God they didn’t get into a pissing match right now, because he
was
not
in the mood.

Besides, he
still hadn’t forgiven Matthew. Hell, he had yet to speak more than three words
to him since Sunday, other than show related. Jack had been too furious and
upset to keep things civil. Now, he was just tired.

“Oh, come on.
You’re not still mad, are you?” Matthew frowned, stopping in front of his desk.

“No.” Jack
glared. “Why the fuck would I be mad at you?”

The jerk smiled.
“At least you managed a whole sentence.”

His brother was
lucky he didn’t manage a whole fist, which cracked on the armrest of his chair.
With anger and betrayal still prominent, he continued to bite his tongue.

“That’s a good
start. I’m sure you have more words you’d like to say.” Matthew stared back.
“Come on. Let me hear them.”

“Yeah. I have
one.” Jack leaned forward, holding his brother’s gaze. “Why?”

Matthew blinked,
some of the amusement leaving his expression with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry,
Jack. Like Brielle, I too, was following orders. We all know if we’d let you in
on the plan to have a girl go undercover at the bachelorette mansion, you
would’ve vetoed it right out of existence.”

“Damn right I
would.” Jack shot to his feet and rounded the front of his desk to glare at his
dumbass brother. “Christ, Matthew, the woman is over there poking her nose
around without backup. What if the stalker is there and she stumbles onto him
or her? Then what?”

Matthew
snickered. “Jack, we’re talking about Brielle. Where’ve you been? That woman
can take care of herself. She shot out a damn bulls-eye. Took you down out on
that patio. Jumped over the railing on the yacht and pulled Mandy to safety.
With one hand.”

Christ, he
didn’t need reminding. All of which only added to her appeal. Dammit. Still.
“Everyone needs backup, Matthew.”

His brother
leaned against the desk and sighed again. “Point is, we didn’t tell you because
you wouldn’t have
okayed
her presence, and like it or not, that woman is
needed.”

Jack didn’t like
it. And what he liked even less was that his brother was right.

“I’m sorry,
Jack. I really am,” Matthew repeated. “I knew you liked her, but I didn’t
realize you
liked
her. I mean, for God’s sake, you don’t
do
relationships. You do sex. They don’t call you Dodger for nothing.” The smug
bastard laughed. “You dodge relationships. You don’t let a woman get close. No
attachments, right?”

Jack didn’t
answer. Mostly because it was all true.

“I never thought
whatever was going on between you two was more than something physical,”
Matthew continued even when Jack went back to the other side of the desk. “Had
I known, I swear I would’ve told you. Then there’s Brielle. Jesus, Jack, give
her a break. The poor girl begged for permission to tell you right from the
start, and weekly ever since.”

Well, hell, if
that didn’t fucking take the wind out of Jack’s sail. He dropped down in his
chair, chest tight. Brielle did say she’d tried to tell him several times. And
she did try to talk to him that morning before Rodriquez had interrupted when
he’d found the note. The apprehension that had dulled her eyes had haunted him
all week. So, maybe she hadn’t exactly
lied.
But still, why the hell
didn’t she just blurt the damn confession out?

Would he have
acted any different?

“Okay, well,
since you’re not busy—”

“Not busy?”
Jack’s elbows hit the desk a second before he dropped his head in his hands. He
wasn’t exactly sure what his brother was getting at, having sort of tuned him
out for a moment. “Seriously, Matthew? I’ve barely had time to breathe since we
arrived back in port three days ago.” He lifted his face and stared at the
smiling man, now sitting on the corner of his desk. “Between Danni getting
eliminated on Monday and then accompanying you and Mandy on your one-on-one
overnighter—which we just got back from two hours ago—it’s a wonder I haven’t
keeled over.”

“I have wondered
that on occasion.” His brother rubbed his jaw, staring at him intently.
“Exactly how do you do it, Jack?”

“Don’t patronize
me, Matthew.”

“Wouldn’t dream
of it.” The asshole held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I feel bad.
You’re not sleeping, and you’re under a lot of stress.”

“Who says I’m
not sleeping?”

Matthew raised
his brows. “I do, and so do your bloodshot eyes and your piss-and-vinegar
attitude. I mean, come on, Jack. You’ve got poor Rodriguez afraid to sneeze
when he’s in the same room with you.”

“The man’s too
loud. I can’t think,” Jack muttered.

 “Too loud?” He
laughed. “Rodriguez doesn’t speak unless spoken to.”

Jack remained
silent. Mostly because his brother was right. Again. His attitude had suffered
because he hadn’t been sleeping all that well since he started this case, and
it had steadily gotten worse after Brielle had waltzed onto the set. Except for
that one night, his mind interjected. Yeah, that night with Brielle…he’d slept
like a log.

His brother
nodded. “I rest my case.”

“Yeah, rest
whatever you want. Just do it elsewhere. I have a lot to do.” Jack scrubbed his
hands over his face, refusing to think about that night.

“I’m sorry. I
know this show is demanding. You still have to sit through dinner tomorrow
night when the two girls come over to meet our parents. Then you have to
accompany me and Brielle on our one-on-one over-nighter Friday and Saturday.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Or will you be giving those
duties to Rodriguez?”

“No, I won’t be
assigning Rodriguez to those duties, although…” Jack paused. The idea did have
appeal.

“Sorry, I like
Rodriguez, but he’s not my brother and doesn’t qualify,” Matthew said, moving
from the desk to the door.

Jack frowned,
watching his brother reach into the hall for something. “Qualify for what?”

“For being a
jerk.” Matthew returned with a canvas in his hand.

“Fuck you.”

The
pain-in-the-ass chuckled. “See? I rest my case.”

“Is there a
reason you’re in here bothering me, Matthew?”

“Yes, Jack. As a
matter of fact, there is,” his smirking brother replied, walking toward the
desk, painting in hand.  “Look at this, and tell me what you see.”

Jack stood and
waited as Matthew approach. “Ah, the painting that has consumed your free time
ever since we got back into port.”

“Yes.” Matthew
regarded him closely as he slowly turned the canvas around.

Air ripped from
Jack’s lungs, the hiss echoing through the study as he stared wide-eyed at a
barefoot Brielle in her strapless blue dress caught in a dance pose with him on
the yacht.

“How did…?” He
blinked, stunned at the accuracy of emotion his brother had captured in his
expression. The oneness, the love, the desire he’d felt for Brielle…it was all
there. Tearing his gaze from the painting, he focused on Matthew. “How? You
weren’t there.”

His brother
smiled. “I was there for a moment. I came looking for you, but what I found hit
me hard. It spoke to me, and I couldn’t wait to get back to my cabin to sketch
it.” He glanced at his work, then back up at Jack. “Now, answer the
question—what do you see?”

Jack stared at
the painting and his heart tore right open. “She’s so beautiful,” he whispered,
longing to run his finger over Brielle’s face, her expression open and
unguarded, gazing up at him. “She looks happy, vibrant, free…like a woman in…”
He blinked, refocusing on her expression, his heart hammering so hard his
throat instantly dried.

“Like a woman
in…what, Jack?” Matthew prompted.

Jack swallowed.
“Like a woman in love.”

S
he was ready for the end. Brielle didn’t
want to play anymore. This television stuff was tiring. Granted, maybe
if
she’d managed more than eight hours sleep in the last five nights, she wouldn’t
be so tired. So bone-dead tired. But she hadn’t, and she was. Time to suck it
up. After all, the show must go on.

Although, she’d really
love nothing more than to pull the plug. And get some sleep. But every time she
closed her eyes, Jack’s face taunted—accusing, hurt…shattered. She couldn’t
bear to see it again. Bad enough she’d lived through it, been the cause of the
utter devastation that had tightened his face, dulling the vibrant blue of his
eyes to a pale, lifeless gray.

“Let’s go,
ladies.”

Bill’s voice
snapped Brielle from her inner haunt.

“It’s getting
late. It’s almost show time.” With the ever-present clipboard in hand, the
producer ushered her and Mandy into the bachelor mansion.

She glanced
around the foyer and held back a smile. With the exception of Monday’s finale, she
wouldn’t have to step foot inside this place again. Thank God. A smile tugged
at her lips. Forever would be too soon.

“Matthew, his
parents and his brother are waiting for you in the gathering room.” The
producer tapped his clipboard as he led them across the marbled floor. “You’ll
mingle, have a few drinks, then head to the dining room.”

Mandy heaved an
excited sigh and squeezed Brielle’s hand. “I can’t believe we’re the final
two.” The blonde turned sideways and opened her red-lipped mouth to say
something else, then frowned.

“What’s wrong?”
Brielle stopped, twisted around to look behind them, but only spotted their
cameramen.

“I just thought
I saw…” Mandy’s voice faded and she chewed on her lower lip. “I thought I felt
someone watching.”

Bill glanced
around, then shrugged. “Probably just your nerves.”

“Yeah, I’m sure
you’re right.” The blonde giggled, putting a shaky hand to her throat. “I’m so
nervous I’d even forgotten how to strap my shoes.”

Brielle eyed Mandy’s
strapless black heels and smiled. “Good choice.”

“Aren’t they
just darling? I got these Jimmy Choos on sale and—” She paused, then wrinkled
her nose. “I went off in my little world again, didn’t I?”

Brielle nodded,
still smiling.

“Thought so.” The
hand model shrugged. “Well, anyway, I’m glad I brought my Jimmy’s because they
were much easier on my nervous fingers.” She giggled again, wiggling her hands.

“Yes, yes, very
nice.” Bill grunted, moving toward the gathering room once again. “Come along.
We mustn’t keep the bachelor and his family waiting.”

Bachelor and his
family
.
Which translated to bachelor and his brother in Brielle’s over-taxed mind.

She counted to
ten.
I can do this. No matter how Jack reacts to me, I’ll keep my cool.

Tonight wasn’t
about dinner and mingling. It was about one of her final chances to solve this
damn case. The time had come for her to add this assignment to her pile of
finished jobs and put it all behind her. Of course, that didn’t include Jack.
She’d never be able to put him behind her. The memory of their time together
would be forever imprinted on her heart.

When she’d
returned from the yacht on Sunday in desperate need of a distraction, and with
sleep out of the question, Brielle had thrown herself into the case. Many hours
later, her study of video footage and audio tapes had produced nothing more
than a pounding headache. So she’d switched gears. Taking advantage of the two
days Matthew, Mandy and Jack were in Aspen, Brielle and her uncle’s team had
searched the bachelor mansion from top to bottom. They found nothing—just like
on the yacht.

Her lips
twisted. No footage of the girls being tossed overboard had been captured.
What
a surprise…not
. The camera for that section had conveniently been
unplugged.

Whoever was behind
this knew what they were doing. Had to be part of the crew or show. Her gaze
bounced around, glancing at the people in the background. Hands down, it was
someone here tonight. And she was determined to find that person.

She set her
shoulders, cleared her mind and continued to walk with the others, undaunted.
Before the evening was through, the case would be solved. She’d never failed
before and wouldn’t stop until she found the offender.

“Maybe it’s
Jack.”

Brielle started.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced at Mandy. “What did you say?”

“Bill had asked
who we thought was making the threats. I said maybe it was Jack.” The blonde brushed
imaginary lint from her red dress as they walked across the foyer. She glanced
up and frowned. “What?”

“It’s not Jack.”
Brielle shook her head vehemently, her heart and mind in total agreement for
once. 

The blonde
shrugged. “Yeah, but, he’s been so miserable lately.”

Brielle sighed.
The blonde had her there. “That just makes him a jerk, not a punk.” Why was she
defending him? Oh, right, because
you love the jerk
, her heart shouted.

“That’s a good
one. He’s a jerk, not a punk,” Mandy repeated, laughing along with Bill and the
cameramen. “You’re so funny, Brielle.” Sobering, the hand model smoothed her
dress again. “Gosh, I’m so nervous. I hope Matthew’s parents are nice.”

“They are,”
Brielle reassured, then catching the contestant’s puzzled expression she rushed
to add, “I’m sure.”

Dammit, Jack!
He had her
acting like a rookie again.

“Well, I hope
they like me.” Sadness entered Mandy’s blue eyes as she stared at Brielle. “I
don’t stand a chance with Matthew. He’s going to pick you for sure.”

The very fact
that the hand model was the only one left with Brielle meant this funny,
sometimes clueless woman was the one who’d captured the artist’s heart. She
knew it. Jack knew it. Anyone who knew Brielle’s real reason for being there
knew it. Of course, that wasn’t something she could share. No, Mandy was going
to have to find out for herself, either once the case was closed—hopefully tonight,
or on Monday’s official ‘choice’ night.

Stopping just
outside the gathering room doors, Brielle cupped the girl’s shoulder and held
her troubled gaze. “Only Matthew knows what’s in his heart. You’re beautiful,
Mandy. And you’ve been surviving on this show much longer than I have.”

“Yeah, but look
at you with your hair falling past your shoulders in soft curls. And that
dress! It’s to die for.” She waved her hand up and down, eyeing the white,
haltered-scarf dress with pale aqua tips the producers had supplied Brielle.
“You look stunning.”

“Thanks, Mandy,
but you look killer in that red dress. I know Matthew’s going to pick you in
the end.” Finally, she could spout a truth.
Alleluia, sound the trumpets!

Mandy’s face lit
up. “You think so? How do you know?”

“Let’s just say,
I have a gut feeling.” Too bad the one tightening her stomach wasn’t as happy.
No, this feeling had an ominous bite. Shivering, she ran a hand over her bare
shoulder.
Something big was going to happen tonight
.

“Okay, ladies.
Time to meet the parents.”

And before
either girl could respond, Bill ushered them through the double doors and into
the gathering room without giving them time to blink.

Mr. and Mrs.
Anderson and their sons stood talking by the corner bar. All heads turned in
their direction when they entered. Brielle’s heart skidded to a halt. Dressed
in a black tuxedo, Jack had one hand in his pocket while the other held a drink
that paused in mid air when he spotted her. His gaze widened.

Pain, longing
and regret shot through his eyes before a guarded expression claimed his face.
Brielle blinked, her pulse returning to normal after the initial connection.

Had Matthew been
right? The hostility and betrayed look were gone. It’d only been a few days.
Did Jack no longer regard her as one of society’s sores? Or was he just being
polite because of his parents?

Probably the
latter, she reasoned, but it didn’t matter. Her grip tightened on her small
beaded purse, the Glock hidden inside firm under her fingers, reminding her
that this was a case, not a date. She summoned a fake smile and followed his
lead.

“Wow! You both
look stunning. I’m the luckiest man.” Matthew set his glass on the bar and
rushed forward to embrace them each separately. “It’s hard to believe this
journey is almost over.”

“Yes, I was just
saying that to Brielle.” Mandy returned his smile, her face flushed.

The way they
stared at each other, Brielle got the impression that if the rest of the room’s
occupants disappeared, they’d never notice.

A pang
resembling envy hit her heart. She brushed it aside and lifted her chin.

“Matthew? Aren’t
you going to introduce us?” Sophia spoke up.

“Yes, of course.
Sorry, mom.” He guided them toward the bar, his eyes bright. “Mom, dad, this is
Mandy.” He waited while his parents kissed Mandy’s cheek in greeting. “And this
is, Brielle.”

Not bothering to
look at Jack, she greeted his parents, murmuring pleasantries and thank-yous
accordingly.

“Jack.” His
mother glanced over to him. “Why don’t you get these pretty ladies something to
drink so we can sit down and chat?”

“Of course.” He nodded
at Mandy. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have a
Slow Screw, please.” The blonde smiled, unaware of the difficulty she’d caused
everyone to keep from laughing. Then, mistaking Jack’s dazed look as one of
ignorance, she went on to explain in a patient voice. “You just have to add
sloe gin to vodka and orange juice. I would’ve asked for Sex on the Beach, but
I figured you didn’t know how.” She seemed to think he needed clarification.
“To make it, I mean.”

Brielle was in
trouble. If she looked at Jack, she’d lose it. If she peeked at Matthew, she’d
lose it, and if she even entertained the thought of glancing at the Andersons, she’d have to leave the room like the crew members rushing toward the hallway.

Not afforded
that luxury, Brielle did the next best thing. Placing her purse on the bar she
moved Jack out of her way. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just help myself to some white
wine while you give Mandy her Slow Screw.” Smiling at his grunt, she poured a
hefty dose, took a sip, then joined his parents.

“Brielle.” His
mother grasped her hand. “Why don’t you and Matthew come sit with me and talk
while Matthew’s father and brother get to know Mandy. Then we can switch.”

“Sure.” Brielle
allowed Mrs. Anderson to lead her across the room to settle on a pair of
couches out of earshot.

Sophia spoke
first. “Brielle, please tell me that adorable woman over there is
not
a
threat to my son.”

She glanced into
Matthew’s anxious eyes, then back at Sophia. “I haven’t found any evidence to
tie Mandy to the threats,” she answered honestly.

“Yes!” Matthew
smiled next to her.

“But?” Sophia
stared at her. “What aren’t you saying, my dear?”

An astute woman.
Now she knew where Jack got it. “That I haven’t found evidence to point to
anyone else, either.” She sighed, placing her wine on the coffee table. “I’m
sorry, but I can’t give a definite answer.”

Matthew leaned
forward, hands clasped together, forearms resting on his knees. “Well, I don’t
think she’s done any of it. My gut says she’s innocent.”

“What does your
gut say, Brielle?”

Shoot.

Sophia asked the
one question Brielle had hoped to avoid. She wanted to leave her gut out of
this. Glancing across to the bar, she watched Jack answer his cell phone and
leave the room.

“My gut may be out
of order. I’m not sure it’s working.”

“It’s because of
Jack, isn’t it?” Sophia leaned forward and squeezed Brielle’s hands.

How did she know
about them? Brielle’s gaze snapped to Matthew. Had he told his mother?

“Don’t look at
me.” He smiled, holding up his hands. “I didn’t say a word.”

“It wasn’t
Matthew, sweetheart,” Sophia said softly.

Brielle stared
at the woman and frowned.

“Don and I
watched some of the security footage with Franco.” Her fingers tightened on
Brielle's hand when she would’ve pulled away. “We saw the two of you dancing on
the yacht.”

Lovely.
Brielle
couldn’t decide which was worse—the embarrassment brewing in her stomach or the
sadness of losing Jack’s trust the day after that unforgettable dance.
Swallowing, she lifted her head. She was a professional. This was about Mandy,
not Jack.

“I’m sorry,
Brielle. I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Sophia caught
her off-guard again.

“When I made you
promise not to tell Jack, I didn't foresee the two of you getting together.”