The Elite: The Complete Series of Boomer and Player (With Bonus) (59 page)

“Where are you going?” His footsteps hurried to catch up to me.

“Out. Last time I checked I wasn’t being held prisoner here,” I snarled.

Gary reached my side and I jerked my chin to look down at him. He squared his broad shoulders. “You’re
not
. But with everything you just told us, it would be good for you to stay close, in case we find more for you to review.”

A hollow laugh escaped my throat. “What for? I just handed you a nice little gift wrapped package with the name and motive of the fucker behind this, but that wasn’t good enough. You’re still here, looking for evidence. A trail.”

Gary sighed and his eyes drooped, showing me the first hint of a crack in his walls. “I know, Mr. Rosen. I know this is an exhausting process and sometimes it doesn’t make sense. At least, not from the outside, but I assure you that we’re not discounting the intel you provided. But, as Agent Montgomery and I said, without something solid to go on, there’s nothing we can do to pursue the lead. Everything is circumstantial. At best.”

“I bet if you searched his bank records you’d find it. Or his contacts. Something is gonna point him back to this…” I threw my hand back towards the hangar. “I’m telling you, Gary, this was him.”

Gary held up his hand and nodded. “I hear you. But no judge is gonna give us a warrant. That’s why we need to keep looking.”

“Fine! But I’m not going to sit around here and wait.” I started off again, my steps charged and furious.

Gary didn’t try to stop me, but when I was a handful of paces away, he called out to me, “Be careful, Mr. Rosen.”

* * * *

Gemma’s house was empty. At least, from the looks of it. The heavily tinted windows on her garage made it hard to confirm, but from what I could see, there wasn’t a car inside. I’d rounded the house, hopping to check every window, and knocked on both the front and back doors repeatedly, but it was radio silent.

Her house was the third house in the quiet cul-de-sac and no one even seemed to notice that I was stalking around her house or banging on her doors. I was relieved to not find a pack of O’Keefe’s cronies outside, or at the end of the block, but it was also disturbing that I could cause such a ruckus and not have even one nosy neighbor butting in.

As I strode back to my Jeep parked along the curb, I decided that Gemma would be staying with me until the nightmare was over.

Whether she liked it or not.

Although, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to convince her. I had my ways.

I leaned against the passenger door, folded my arms, and stared up the drive at her front door, as I tried to work out my next move.

“Where the hell are you, Gemma?” I whispered.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pushed off the door and grabbed it. The screen was lit up with Gemma’s name and my entire body sagged with relief. “Gemma! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I was just about to ask you that same question. I got your message. What’s going on?” Her voice was impossible to get a read on. I needed to see her face to figure out what she was thinking—or at least have a shot.

“I’m fine. But I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and get over to your house. We’ll pack your bags and you’re coming to stay with me until this shit show has come to an end. It’s not safe anymore.” I darted a look around as an eerie feeling of being watched sunk into my skin. “Where are you?”

“Slow down, Aaron. What are you talking about?”

I pinched my eyes closed and tipped my head back. “Gemma, just tell me where you are. I know you’re not at the hospital and I know you’re not at home. I’m practically standing in your driveway.”

“What the hell?” The question was sharp and frustrated. “I’m out running some errands. Things were slow at the hospital and since I’m the new girl, I got sent home early for the day, and am completing the rest of my shift on call.”

“I think O’Keefe has people watching you.”

She roared, “What?”

“Have you noticed anything?”

“Aaron, this is getting crazy…”

I wanted to laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Let’s just call the police.”

I shook my head. “I already told the FBI and FAA guys what’s going on. They can’t do anything. The local PD isn’t going to be able to do anything either. Just hurry back. I’ll stay here until you get here and help you pack.”

She was quiet and I could almost hear her mind working out a way out of my demands. Why was she fighting this so hard? We’d just spent the night before together at my place, and it had been fine. Better than fine, really. I was normally the one waiting to untangle the sheets and make a getaway. I hadn’t felt that way with Gemma. Had she?

“Gemma, please.”

I hated to beg, but this was too important to let my pride get in the way.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it might be a while. I’m not going to let this O’Keefe asshole disrupt my whole day.” She sighed, her frustration sizzling. “Go home and relax. I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”

My fingers clenched together. “I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.”

“God, you’re being so ridiculous! I don’t need a bodyguard.”

This wasn’t up for debate. I ignored her comment. “Keep an eye on the road behind you. Make sure you’re not being followed and call me if you see anything weird.”

She clicked off the line without another word and I glared at the phone in my hand. Damn it if I didn’t go and fall for the most stubborn woman on earth. With a scoff, I pocketed the phone after making sure the volume was as loud as it could go. I didn’t want to miss anything. Seconds after slipping it into my pocket, my ring tone sliced into the silence around me, and I jerked it from my pocket, nearly ripping out the pocket of my jeans.

My heart jolted into my throat. Had something happened? Was someone following her? Was she okay?

The name flashing on the screen told me it wasn’t Gemma. It was Lana. I blew out the panicked gasp and clicked onto the call. “Yes?”

“Uhm, oh, hi, Mr. Rosen. It’s Lana.” She was one of those people who failed to realize that every phone had caller ID and that there was no need to announce her name at the beginning of each call. “Are you coming back to the meeting?”

Fuck
. I scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d gotten so caught up in everything with the agents, then O’Keefe, and making sure Gemma was okay, that I’d forgotten that my staff was sitting in the middle of Carly’s for a mandatory meeting. “No, Lana, something came up at the museum. I’m going to be there all day.”

It was only half of a lie.

“Okay. So, should I dismiss everyone? Or can we come back to work now?”

“The investigation is still going on. Did you get their input for a relaunch?”

“Yes. We have a whole list of ideas on themes and advertising and setup.”

“Great,” I forced myself to infuse cheeriness in my voice. I regretted snapping at her on the patio outside Carly’s, especially with the entire staff peering at us through the windows. “Listen, Lana, I’m sorry about before. There’s a lot going on and I lost my cool.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Rosen. I understand. And, I’m sorry about before…what I said at the meeting. I was out of line.” Her voice was small and pinched, like she was holding back tears.

I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of guilt ran over me, hot and smothering. “It’s all right, Lana. Already forgotten. I shouldn’t have shouted like that.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rosen. I didn’t take it personally,” she replied, her voice brightening. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not right now. Please apologize to everyone. Let them know their pay will continue as long as the investigation runs. I don’t want them worried about money on top of everything else.”

“Okay. Will do.” She paused and I could imagine her scribbling the notes on her clipboard. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Rosen. And remember, I’m only a call away.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but decided to take it as a show of support instead of an insinuation. It was no secret that Lana had the hots for me, but she’d never made an attempt at a move before, or even anything that could really be considered open flirtation.

Then again, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she knew
how
to flirt.

I pushed all those thoughts from my mind. “Thank you, Lana. I’ll get in touch when things are wrapped up and we can start planning the reopening.”

I clicked off the call and pocketed the phone once again. The silence fell back over the cul-de-sac like a thick blanket. In the distance, the ocean waves provided a faint backdrop of white noise, with gulls crying out every few minutes, but other than that, there was nothing. No passing cars. No pedestrians. Not even any noise or movement from the other houses in the small circle.

I flattened my back against the side of the car, trying to adjust to a more comfortable way of standing. My eyes came to rest on Gemma’s small house and I wondered what about it had caught her eye. It was a bungalow style home with a small porch in the front. It was painted a light green, but from the looks of it, that had been at least a decade ago. It struck me as odd that the previous owners hadn’t thought to spruce it up before putting it on the market. Holiday Cove was quickly turning into a ritzy little town, similar to the Hamptons—or, at least what I imagined the Hamptons to be like—in New York. A retreat for the wealthy.

Granted, there were a lot less pool parties around here.

If O’Keefe got his way that would all change. Maybe that was his overall vision. To build the West Coast version of the luxe beach town. I had to give him credit for a brilliant idea. If he could pull it off, it would make a shit load of money.

Too bad he was such a piece of shit. Otherwise, I might have actually been interested in investing.

I crossed my arms and scanned up and down the sidewalk, though I hadn’t heard any change in activity around me, and sure enough, nothing was happening.

Where was Gemma? She’d mentioned it would take a while, and while logically I knew that not that much time had passed, the silence made time pass at a deceptive rate.

I peeked at my phone and groaned when I saw that only seven minutes had passed since we’d clicked off the call. It was going to be a very long afternoon.

Chapter Seven

Eventually, I gave up on standing vigil by the side of the Jeep and parked my ass back in the driver’s seat, where I spent the next hour tapping out a beat with my thumbs on the steering wheel, scanning the street, and trying not to fall asleep.

Nearly two hours later, Gemma’s car pulled into the cul-de-sac and curved into her driveway. I hopped out of the cab and hurried to meet her, expecting that she’d have a lot of shopping bags in tow from her busy afternoon of errands. But when I reached her, she was stalking up the driveway flipping through the ring of keys in her hands without so much as a nod in my direction.

“Gemma!” I barked, all of my impatience and frustration over waiting channeled out into the single word.

She ignored me, but her shoulders bunched up closer to her ears as she stomped a few more steps towards her front door.

“What the hell? You’re just
not
talking to me now?” I matched her steps and took a firm stance beside her on the porch as she worked the key in the lock for the deadbolt.

She cut a glance to me and I swear an arctic burst hit me in the chest.

I reached over and stopped her hands that were still twisting the key. “Gemma?” I softened my voice. “Let me help—”

“I can do it!” She exploded, flinging her hands up, pulling the key from the lock.

“Why the hell are you pissed at me?” I demanded, reaching for the keys anyways.

She whirled to face me, her eyes blazing and dark. “Fuck, Aaron. This is insane. Literally insane!” The keys flew from her grasp at the jerky movement and clattered down to the welcome mat at our feet.

I whipped a look around the quiet neighborhood, doing a quick sweep. “Hey, hey, calm down. I know you’re upset, but we gotta keep it together, okay?”

She stared at me another beat, her glare sparking with fire, before jerking over to snatch the keys from the welcome mat. She flipped a couple more keys, muttering something indiscernible under her breath, then jammed the keys back into the knob, twisted, and practically kicked the front door open as soon as the lock clicked free.

I stared after her for a moment, stunned into silence at her tirade, and then followed behind. I shut the door.

“—call me and expect me to drop everything—never even asked—hospital is going to think—” she was ranting and raving from the kitchen and all I could catch were fragments of her mutterings.

I followed the sound of her fury and found her stalking into a room off the kitchen. To my surprise, she stripped her scrub top off over her head and reached behind her to unclasp her bra as she stomped ahead.

My temperature—and my cock—rose at the sight of her bared back.

“Gemma! I get that you’re pissed off. Believe me, I am too. But you gotta slow down and let me explain.”

She had disappeared from my sight, deeper into the dimly lit room, and as much as I wanted to follow and see the rest of her as she stripped out of her work clothes, I knew it wasn’t the best plan. There would be time for that later. When she wasn’t so angry with me. Although, the idea of her fired up
and
passionate sounded like fun.

I shook my head, clearing the swarm of images and longings away.

She reappeared seconds later, wearing a black tank top that was suctioned to her every curve and line and left a good two inches of her flat stomach above the waist of her low rise jeans. She was in the process of tying her hair up into a short ponytail on the top of her head and looked at me expectantly as her fingers worked to secure the hair tie. “I’m listening. Explain.”

With a sigh I launched into the full story about the call with O’Keefe and his threat—disguised as a throwaway comment—and by the time I finished, Gemma had plunked down at her small kitchen table. All of her wrath and fury had dampened.