His jaw tight, Pierce grunted. ‘Three notes, each one more direct. Two to her home, one through the restaurant window. Jemma doesn’t have a clue who they’re from—or at least, she’s not saying. And the police have even less idea.’
Hell, had he screwed up by coming here tonight? ‘I’ll head down to the city now.’
‘If Jemma didn’t ask you to, you can’t,’ Sam warned.
‘She kind of did. Not for the work do,’ he said as Pierce glared at him. ‘To meet afterwards. For a drink,’ he added lamely, realising he was probably making Pierce even more pissed off.
‘Knew it!’ Paul guffawed, slapping his knee.
‘Hush now, Paul,’ Evie said. ‘Do we need to worry, Pierce?’
Pierce shook his head, but his tone was far from confident. ‘She’ll be fine. She’s got her phone on. I made her put a tracker app on it.’ He managed a grin. ‘Let’s just say, she was not too impressed.’
Hamish tossed his empty bottle toward the drum. Lucky he’d only had the one—he needed to get to the city. Hell, he’d screwed this up. He’d seen the prospect of a relationship with Jemma as a challenge, pitting their wills and egos against one another, and had resolved that she wouldn’t just click her fingers and summon him to her bed. But his need to play the game had potentially put her in danger.
‘I’ve got to—’ Across the room, he caught sight of Tara’s sister, Chloe, and his farewell died on his lips. He had a responsibility toward Tara, too. ‘Got to see someone,’ he finished, giving the group a nod before heading across the shed.
‘Hey, Chloe, how you doing?’
Like her sister, Chloe blushed the moment he spoke. He groaned inwardly. Was this another teenage crush he’d have to fend off? Why had he ever thought unwanted female interest was some kind of measure of his worth?
‘Good, thanks … Hamish.’ The breathless reply confirmed his concerns.
‘Pretty great turnout, hey?’
‘Reckon it’s about everyone in town.’
He seized on the perfect opening, pretending to survey the crowd. ‘Just about. I saw your folks a couple of minutes ago. And caught up with Gabs and Hayden. Haven’t seen Tara yet, though.’ Shit, if it got back to Tara that he’d been asking after her, he’d never manage to convince her that he wasn’t interested.
‘Nah, she said she’s going to hang with Charlee tonight. So she stayed home to get ready.’
His stomach clenched so hard his skin seemed to shrivel. He hadn’t noticed that Charlee wasn’t at the fundraiser. Even if he had, he would have assumed that she was with Ethan. Or, more correctly, that she was following Ethan around, oblivious to the fact that he was only interested in helping her keep clean.
‘Get ready for what, if she’s not coming here?’ he said tightly.
‘Who knows? She’s a moody cow lately, anyway. Keeps saying she’s over this town, that everything—andeveryone—here is boring.’ Chloe adjusted her stance, jutting a hip. ‘No loss, though, right?’
He forced a chuckle and turned away, his mind racing. Strode out of the shed. The early evening air might clear his head. Dammit, what the hell was Tara getting into?
He tugged his phone from his pocket.
‘What’s up, mate?’ Ethan answered.
‘Hey, Ethan. Look, I’m worried about Tara. Apparently she’s hanging out with Charlee.’ He grimaced, realising he was throwing shade at Ethan’s protégé, but he didn’t have time to pussyfoot around. ‘Her sister said that Tara’s been acting weird. Mood swings. And she’s not at the fundraiser, which is totally out of character.’ She never missed a chance to hang out near him or Justin. ‘I think you’re right about—’
‘It’s okay. I’m with Charlee and Tara right now,’ Ethan said.
Hamish slumped against the wall. ‘Awesome. Thanks, that’s a load off. You at mine tonight?’
‘Maybe. Got to go,’ Ethan said, and disconnected.
21
Jemma
She’d thought it would feel good to swap her workout gear for the high-end attire that had been her trademark for a decade, but Jemma found herself tugging at the pleated waistband on her crepe de Chine pants and repeatedly adjusting the shoestring straps on the scoop neck of her silk camisole. Even after she’d slid into her chiffon and charmeuse jacket and tightly belted the wide satin sash that matched the lapels, the clothes didn’t seem to provide the usual reassurance of perfect, Kevlar-thin armour.
Perhaps she was uncomfortable because she’d dressed back at the cottage and driven into the city? She had assured herself that it was simply better time management than taking her suitcase to the apartment, changing there, then having to head out again. Not that she was avoiding entering her apartment alone for the first time after several weeks’ absence.
