Brady shrugged. “You and Jessie used to be pretty close.”
“That was a long time ago. We all have a job to do, and I’ll do mine just like everyone else.”
“If you say so.” Brady straightened up and nodded his blond head. “But I’m here if you need to talk, man.”
Brady turned and walked away, and Robert dropped into his chair. If Brady could see through him that easily, what would everybody else be able to see?
What would Jessie see?
Chapter 8
Patrick brought his Lexus to a crawl on Cyprus Street and checked his GPS. He came to a stop in front of a brown brick house.
This is it?
Sylvia Sorenson’s house, though not a complete eyesore, wasn’t much to look at. He studied the small brick home, surrounded by an equally small, well-kept yard with an older model Toyota Camry in the driveway.
No wonder Jessica preferred jeans and a t-shirt over the dressy clothes that showed off her figure. She looked amazing no matter how she dressed, but just the memory of her in the red satin evening gown she wore the night they met still turned him on.
Making her dress up for him was a matter of principle. He deserved a wife who always looked her best.
That’s why he insisted on calling her Jessica. “Jessie” was such a plain name, butJessicawas alluring and graceful, just like he’d trained his wife to be.
He smirked at himself in the mirror as he smoothed his hair. Jessica had been such an easy target. Her reluctance to accept compliments on her art the night they met showed her lack of self-esteem. She didn’t stand a chance once he turned on the charm. Initially, he’d planned on making her a quick conquest, but her strong morals had kept him at bay.
Her refusal of an easy, physical relationship presented a challenge that intrigued him. Determined to win her over, he’d focused all his attention on her until he’d become addicted to her. Some might say he fell in love with her, and maybe he had, but one thing was certain: He would not let her walk away from him.
She belongs to me. I’ve worked too hard to let her slip back into her country bumpkin ways.
She’d cost him a day’s worth of work and the humiliation of having to ask his father to bail him out of jail. For that, she’d pay.
“I did not raise a convict.” His father’s voice had boomed over the phone line. “You should know better than to lose control.”
Like his father ever practiced what he preached.
Patrick shook his head to clear it. Did Jessica honestly think she could run home to mommy and pick up where she left off?
He got out of the car and strolled to the front door of Sylvia’s house.Play it cool. Apologetic.
He scowled at the wooden door in need of a fresh coat of stain before knocking. At a quiet noise on the other side of the door, he pasted on his most charming smile.
The door didn’t open, though. Instead, a curtain in a nearby window fluttered.
His smile faded.
He heard a faint voice speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the door and caught the word, “hurry.”
He knocked again. “Sylvia? Are you there? It’s Patrick. I need to talk to you. I’m worried about Jessica.” The best defense was offense.
“Why are you worried about Jessica? What happened to her?” Her alarmed voice came through the door.
He didn’t know Sylvia well, but he doubted the alarm in her voice was genuine. That, coupled with the fact she didn’t open the door, told him she knew exactly where Jessica was.
He doubled up his fist and banged on the door. “Open the door, Sylvia, and let me talk to my wife.”
A muffled shriek sounded from behind the wood, and he grinned. The woman was as big of a coward as her daughter. He grabbed the doorknob. If she wouldn’t open the door, he would.
But the knob didn’t turn. He cursed.I should kick the door down and teach them both a lesson!
