“Yes.” He removed his clothing and slid inside, pulling her to face him. “I was worried about you.”
She snuggled right into him, her knees between his, her small hand cupping his whiskered jaw. “I was more worried about you. We kept waiting to hear that the murder weapon had been found or something, but none of that happened. Your brother likes to drawout his games.”
“No,” Jethro said. “That’s just it. He doesn’t play games and nothing is drawn out. Each move he makes gets him closer to his ultimate goal, which at the moment seems to be framing me for murder.” But that wasn’t it. Not completely.
Gemma rubbed his jaw and down his neck. “I feel like I should be feeling something more about Monty being dead, especially murdered in such a horrific way.” Her light sapphire eyes glowed in the darkness. “Maybe I’m in shock or just out of it, but I think I’m mostly numb.” She frowned. “Shouldn’t I be sad because he was Trudy’s father, or even relieved because he’s dead and I don’t have to run anymore?” Her voice trembled slightly.
Jethro couldn’t imagine what this was like for her. “Whatever you’re feeling is what you should be feeling,” he whispered, wanting to hold her tight and protect her from any more hurts. “This is fresh, and your feelings will come at you when you least expect it. It’s all natural and right. You’re the good guy here, and you’ve done your best to protect yourself and your daughter.” He wouldn’t let her blame herself for any of this, even for her own feelings. She had a right to be relieved that the asshole was dead. “It’s okay, Gemma. All of it.”
She swallowed.
He ran his knuckles along her delicate jaw. “Nari is an excellent psychologist, from what I understand. When things calm down a little bit, maybe you could talk to her?”
Gemma shook her head. “No. I want to be friends with Nari. But I will ask her for a recommendation for a therapist.” She leanedinto his touch.
He kissed her gently on her nose. There would be no more pain for this woman or her child—he’d make sure of it. “For now let’s go to sleep, all right?”
She turned around, backing her sweet butt against him. “You sure youwant to sleep?”
Perhaps not.
* * * *
After two rounds of wild lovemaking, Gemma could feel when Jethro finally fell asleep. It was nuts that she’d wanted to have sex after that nightmare of a day, but maybe she just wanted to forget for a few moments in his arms. And she had. She lay beside him for about another hour and then slid quietly from the bed, knowing Trudy would be up soon. She dressed in jeans and a sweater, having canceled her classes for the day. In fact, the school had canceled all classes in the math and philosophy building so the police could interview all witnesses and finish processing the crime scene. Her office, which was nowa crime scene.
She walked quietly out into the kitchen to find both Oliver and Ian pounding away on laptops at the table. She smelled coffee and made a beeline for it, tossing them an inquisitive glance over her shoulder.
Neither looked up.
“We asked Brigid to bring us computers,” Oliver announced, answering her unspoken question as he typed away. “Right now we’re moving assets around because our business was just shut down.”
Ian hit a button and then grinned. “Beat you.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Good. Handle the Blocaccounts now.”
“Fine.” Ian leaned toward the screen and began typing again.
Gemma poured a mug of coffee and leaned back against the counter, watching them work. It was as if she was suddenly surrounded by mercenaries and spies. Life was strange. “Jethro mentioned you guys gave up your business to protect him.”
Ianjust shrugged.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Oliver winked at her and kept typingthe whole time.
Gemma caught sight of her cell phone charging on the counter and reached for it, surprised to find fifteen messages. She’d had her office calls forwarded to her cell phone, so she listened to them, noting most were from other professors and even students asking what was going on. The last message was from her mother, asking Gemma to call her. Monty must’ve told Fran where she was working.
She thought about it and then shrugged, dialing the number.
“Hello?”Fran answered.
“Hi, Fran,” Gemma said.
Fran blew out air, no doubt full of cigarette smoke. “I’m glad you called. Please listen to me and listen to Monty. He has a right to know his daughter. How could you not tell me you had a child? I have a grandchild? You are the most selfish person in the entire world. I want to meetmy grandchild.”
Gemma took the barrage, remembering her mom yelling at neighbors like this. They’d moved around a lot, usually to states with great benefits that allowed Fran to stay home and drink constantly. Inevitably, Fran would get drunk and fight with the neighbors over anything from a misplaced newspaper to loud music. “Why? Why do you care to meet her?”
Fran sucked in air. “Because she’s mygranddaughter.”
