Under Control (9 page)

She could search his house with all the calm she didn’t feel. When she texted the guys later—much later—hopefully she’d have some info they needed to wrap up this case.

Instead of hailing another cab, she walked several blocks to Blaine’s apartment building. An ocean breeze cooled the sweat on the back of her neck and soothed her with the salty scents. After all of this uproar eased, she’d like to go and look at the waves. Maybe walk on the sand and get an ice cream from the stall near the pier.

Maybe Gabriel and Joey would come with her.

She shook herself. Whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t a lasting thing. She’d been scared, vulnerable, in trouble…and they’d stepped up and given her what she needed to get through the rough patch.

Plus a lot of orgasms.

Her body tingled at the memory of their lips on her. When they kissed her, she had no idea whose scorching mouth was whose. They worked so damn well together. How often did they take in a spare female?

A woman was leaving Blaine’s building, and Jayla slipped into the cracked door after her. Heart racing, she took the stairs fast. What blind luck. She hadn’t thought about getting past a security door, only about how to force Blaine’s lock.

Outside the building she spotted the police cruiser. How was she slipping into Blaine’s place without them seeing her and wondering what she was up to?

As she cast a glance around, she spotted an empty baby stroller parked outside a drugstore. She glanced inside, double-checking it really was vacant. Finding it so, she casually passed it and gave it a push—in the direction of the parked cars.

Someone screamed. The officer watching the apartment building jumped out of his cruiser and started running for the stroller. Jayla slipped into the building, heart jackhammering her chest wall.

Once she reached his apartment, she stared at the numbers and strained to hear any movement from within. She heard nothing. A few doors down, someone played music. Other than that, the floor was quiet.

Here was the part she was unfamiliar with. The insurance company didn’t teach her to pick locks. She’d bent her nail file and tried it out a few times on the lock of the guest bedroom back at the guys’ house. Would it work the same on Blaine’s?

She gripped the bent file and fitted it to the lock, carefully concealing her movements by holding her big purse at a certain angle. She felt the tip catch on something metal inside the lock. A few more flicks and she felt that
click
that had thrilled her when picking the guest room lock.

A stuttering breath left her, and she steeled herself to open the door. Holding the pick in her fist in case she needed to gouge out Blaine’s eyes, she entered his home.
This is called breaking and entering.
It didn’t feel that way, though. She felt as if she were going after justice—on her terms.

She looked around, listening hard. Not a sound came from within. She searched the perimeter of the room for signs of a security camera though if Blaine had one, he’d concealed it well.

She had no idea what she was even searching for, but she’d know it when she saw it. Maybe she’d find a scribbled note with the recipe of his bomb cocktail or the phone number of a friend he might be staying with. The sarcastic thought couldn’t even raise her spirits.

Going through his possessions made her feel out of control. Her chest felt too tight, and she barely could draw a deep breath. But she pushed on, sifting through the contents of his desk and finally some kitchen drawers where papers were stored.

When some mail toppled over and struck a cup holder, scattering the contents across the counter, she went dead still. Listening. Hands shaking.

An unbearable urge to call Gabriel or Joey just to hear their voices flared inside her. But what could they do for her now? If Blaine came in, she was on her own.

What was she doing here? She’d gone crazy for sure. Her bold move was born from the need to find the guy who’d tried to kill her and anybody standing near her in that fire station. Now that she’d had time to think more clearly, her recklessness made her blood run cold.

She had to get out of here.

On the spur of the moment, she grabbed a tablet off the counter and made for the door. In the back of her mind, she’d made the decision to stay away from Gabriel and Joey. But now that seemed hasty. She reached for her phone.

»»•««

“Where the hell is she? If she ever comes back, we’re handcuffing her to the bed and taking over the investigation. We’ll find that bastard and take care of business.” Joey barely contained his urge to bellow. They’d been waiting hours for her to check in.

Gabriel stared at his cell screen, knuckles whitening on the edges as he didn’t find the answer he wanted. “Dammit, she disabled her GPS. I can’t find her.”

“Hell.” Joey paced to the window as if looking out on their sleepy suburb would supply some sign of Jayla. A bird flitted between shrubberies, but other than that, there was no sign of life. He whirled from the window. “This is crazy. We need to go after her.”

“She isn’t ours to keep locked up and powerless. You saw how determined she was. I have a feeling nobody should keep Jayla powerless.”

“Yeah, her ex did that from what I can tell. Unfortunately, she swung the opposite direction and decided she should be wearing superhero tights. She’d look hot as hell in them, but letting her step into this dangerous role is damn stupid.” He finally growled with frustration.

“We didn’t exactly
let
her. She took off.”

“Let’s call the police.”

“No.” Gabriel’s expression was calm, but the light in his eyes was as wild and untamed as Joey felt inside. “We have to trust her.”

“She’s up against a volatile criminal who wants her dead.”

“Look, I know you’re agitated. So am I. But we can’t bring the authorities into this.”

Joey stared at his lover for a long heartbeat. “We can go after her,” he said again.

Gabriel met his gaze, a tendon in the crease of his jaw twitching. “I know we hardly know Jayla, but she has a good head on her shoulders.”

Will she come back to us?
How insane that Joey even thought such a thing. He was definitely more entangled in this mess than he’d originally believed. He scuffed his knuckles over his jaw and went back to staring out the window.

Hours passed and still no word from Jayla. A heavy stone of worry in his chest became a lead weight. Gabriel readied himself for his shift at the firehouse, and Joey had a few minutes before he needed to walk out the door. Thankfully, he’d only be pouring drinks for people—his thoughts were too scattered to do much else. At least he wasn’t responsible for keeping people alive as Gabriel was.

At times like these, he was happy to have a menial task he enjoyed. Maybe his mind wouldn’t linger over Jayla’s whereabouts or safety.

Like hell.

Three hours into his shift, he was out of his mind with worry. He and Gabriel shot off texts speculating on her whereabouts and who was going to go retrace her steps, until Gabriel was called to an accident.

Leaning against the bar, Joey texted Jayla for the dozenth time.
Where r u?
His fingertip hovered over the
send
button, but he didn’t press it. She hadn’t replied to any of the others—why would she now?

“Can I get two Jack and Cokes?” the waitress asked.

He looked up, trying to keep the agitation off his face. A few days ago he’d only had Gabriel to worry over, and now the situation was double bad.

He tapped the
send
button and set down his phone so he could pour some drinks. After that, the band took a break and required a round of beers to quench their thirsts. By the time he picked up his phone again, he was as tense as hell.

The band struck up the beat again and Joey glanced at his cell. His heart somersaulted. Every ounce of air left his lungs as he saw who the text was from.

I’m safe.

“Thank God,” he murmured and shot off an immediate text.
Location?

No response.

Sweets, where r u?
He waited and waited. Then a group of guys came in following a bowling tournament and long minutes passed before he was able to check for Jayla’s message.

But his screen was blank. His chest still burned, but she’d told him all he needed to know.

She was safe.

He threw himself into work, restocking the bar and sending the waitresses out with last rounds. When his phone vibrated with a message, he jerked it from his pocket like a gunslinger in the Old West.

I’m safe.

This time from Gabriel. All the adrenaline pounding through Joey’s system for the past few hours seemed to vanish all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned heavily against the bar.

“You okay, Joe?” one of the waitresses called as she bounced by.

He threw her a wave. This caring about people was a huge burden, but one he didn’t want to lose. Months ago he’d stood in this same spot and wished for someone important in his life. Now he had two someones. If he ever got Jayla in his arms again, he wouldn’t let her go so easily.

“The four fires in the past twenty-four hours can’t be connected to the arsonist—yet. They’re still looking for concrete evidence. Damn authorities and their concrete evidence.” Gabriel collapsed on the leather sofa with the entire bottle of vodka in his fist. Joey settled next to him, his body heat beckoning him.

Gabriel was too bone-tired to move. Between his bleary eyes and the fatigue stealing over him, he wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep.

Having Joey and Jayla pressed against each side of him would make him sleep like the dead.

But that won’t happen.

He kept telling himself that at least Jayla was safe. Even if she never came back to them, she was safe.

Joey covered Gabriel’s fingers where they encircled the bottleneck and gently removed the vodka from his hand. Gabriel expected him to get up and pour two glasses like a civilized man but when he brought the bottle to his lips and swigged, a grim smile tugged at Gabriel’s mouth.

Joey took several swallows before passing him the bottle. “Tell me again why the arson investigator can’t connect this guy with the fires? He used the same damn chemicals.”

“He might be a copycat.” Gabriel tipped the vodka into his mouth. It blazed a path all the way to his stomach before spreading through his limbs.

“I wish to hell Jayla hadn’t disabled her tracker. I’d get in the truck and go get her.”

Gabriel took another huge swallow before handing the bottle to Joey. Though they were evenly matched in size, Joey could handle his liquor slightly better. Maybe it was years of drinking games or watching what he mixed to avoid getting too drunk and hung over.

Shifting his shoulders, Gabriel relaxed against the cushions. “Tell me the story of you trying to drink the Irishmen under the table again.”

A dark chuckle escaped Joey as he brought the bottle to his lips. The bob of his Adam’s apple was a huge turn-on. Especially when the stubble stretching down his jaw caught the dim light streaming through the blinds. This didn’t happen often—them sitting around with a bottle between them. Mid-morning seemed a good time for drinking—plenty of time to sleep it off and it made for a chuckle if they got any telemarketing calls.

“How many times have I told you the story?”

“At least twice. I keep waiting for the details to change.”

Joey pushed out a laugh and lowered the bottle, letting it rest against his thick thigh. “I toured Ireland right out of high school. Took my graduation money and went off to find some family history. I’d heard my ancestors still resided in Belfast, so I headed there first. Had a little car rented and I parked down the street from a pub. Figured I’d walk in and find one of my people just hanging out, talking. Because I was young and that’s what my family did here.”

Gabriel smiled at the image of a young, naïve Joey. Time hadn’t hardened him—he was still happy-go-lucky. But he was definitely more savvy about the world. He’d worried about Jayla for good reason. Their city wasn’t the safest even without a serial arsonist turned bomber.

Swigging vodka, Gabriel watched his lover. The alcohol was making some of his fears from the day diminish, but they were still too bright in the back of his mind. He tipped the bottle again.

“I got into the pub and made myself cozy with some good Irish whiskey. I was told nobody had ever heard of the Ryans from Belfast and they couldn’t be a decent drinking family if they hadn’t. So of course, I had to remedy that misconception.” He shot Gabriel a sideways glance.

A rumble of laughter escaped Gabriel. “So you showed them.”

“Yes, I was dumb enough to believe I could outdrink the Irish. I got sopping-ass drunk. So drunk that I had no memory of getting back into the rental car, and nobody stopped me.”

“I know you’d never do something so stupid now.”

“No, I was a kid. Not even legal drinking age in the United States, but still I shouldn’t have attempted to drive. Thank God nobody was hurt when I got into that roundabout.”

Gabriel was unfamiliar with the traffic circles but had seen them on TV. The thought of his lover driving around and around a circle made him snort.

Joey took the bottle back and had a long swallow before continuing. “I took out four mailboxes and ended up on a sidewalk. After that, I woke up in jail.”

“Oh God.” Gabriel held his burning stomach as amusement rose up.

“Go on and laugh. I deserved it, except there was some unrest in the country at the time and they didn’t want to let a trouble-making American out so easily. It took my poor parents and the lawyer dozens of calls to have me released. And only after I’d given them every dollar I was carrying.”

“Which ended your trip.”

“Yes, thank God I still had my plane ticket. I got straight on the flight and came home. I never drank that much again. Except maybe tonight, I will. I can’t stand the idea of Jayla out there alone.” His voice resonated with pain.