Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Cal’s head felt as if it was being squeezed in a vise. The headache he’d had earlier had bloomed into a full-fledged migraine. The amount of perfume Carla Green was wearing definitely wasn’t helping. It smelled as if she’d bathed in the stuff.

She was beautiful—Cal couldn’t deny that. She was around his height, her blonde hair elegantly done up and her face artfully painted. Her teeth were perfectly straight and unnaturally white, and he could understand why someone like his cousin would be enamored of her.

He’d spoken with Karl while on the road to DC, and his cousin told him how scared Carla was and how much he appreciated Cal doing whatever he could to keep her safe. When he’d asked Karl why he wasn’t coming to the States to protect her himself, his cousin mumbled something about not wanting to overstep.

Which made no sense to Cal. Karl didn’t want to overstep, but he was okay with him wading into the situation? He said as much to his cousin, and Karl replied that it was more appropriate because Cal was already stateside and could investigate discreetly. If anyone learned that Karl had flown overseas to help a gorgeous American model, the European press would make assumptions.

Cal had nearly snorted at that. Translation: The monarchy was more than a little frustrated with his cousin’s exploits showing up in the tabloids. Flying to Carla’s aid in the US indicated a certain amount of interest . . . maybe even enough for the family to pressure Karl into marriage, effectively ending his playboy lifestyle.

That was another reason Cal was happy not to have grown up in his home country, under the watchful eye of the royal court . . . and the paparazzi. If he ever got married—which he doubted would happen now, thanks to his captors turning his once flawless body into a repulsive mess—he’d do so for love. He’d never agree to spend the rest of his life with a woman because of pressure from the monarchy, or because it was expected of him, or because she had the right connections.

“Don’t you think?” Carla asked, bringing Cal out of his internal musings. He looked up at her and nodded absently. Apparently, that was enough to satisfy her, because she continued talking about the tennis game she’d had that morning and her upcoming photo shoots.

Carla said all the right things, smiled at the right times, and frowned prettily when he’d asked about her stalker. But he could see through her as easily as if she were made out of a thin piece of plastic—which wasn’t far off.

The amount of surgery she’d had was obvious, from her overly pouty lips and her tiny nose that didn’t seem to match the rest of her face to an almost permanently surprised expression, probably from the overuse of Botox. Her breasts were so large, Cal was surprised she didn’t fall over from the sheer weight of them, and despite being huge, they defied gravity. And she clearly liked to show them off.

After he’d greeted her earlier, she’d quickly disappeared, and he’d gotten nowhere in trying to discuss the stalker with her mother, who’d instead peppered him with questions about his service and his life in Maine. Carla had reappeared promptly at six for dinner, wearing a red dress that only reached midthigh and was cut so low in the front, Cal was afraid her tits were going to pop out of their confinement at any second. A pair of red heels completed the look, along with enough perfume to hide her scent from the most accomplished of bloodhounds.

He’d been told they would talk about the stalker after dinner . . . a pretentious four-course affair that mother and daughter were apparently extremely proud of arranging.

Cal wanted to tell them that he’d already endured too much sitting on the drive. Plus, he hated long, stuffy meals. He’d had to sit through enough of them in his lifetime and much preferred eating comfort food around a small kitchen table or in his living room while watching football—what Americans called soccer—on the telly.

But his breeding meant his manners were nothing if not impeccable, so it looked like he’d have to suffer through an extremely uncomfortable dinner before he could discuss the reason why he was here.

“So, tell us more about Liechtenstein,” Elaine said.

“Not sure I can tell you much, ma’am,” Cal said. “I lived there such a short while, and I was a young child at the time.”

“But you’ve been back since then. Been to a lot of fancy balls and stuff,” Elaine insisted.

“Mom!” Carla said in a fake exasperated tone. “Don’t pester the man.”

“What are the king and queen like?” Elaine asked, paying no attention to her daughter.

“You don’t have to answer,” Carla told him as she rolled her eyes.

But Cal could see both women’s interest. This was nothing new. He’d been fending off gold-digging mothers and daughters for years. Less often after his capture, but he could still see right through their shenanigans. Elaine would play the “bad cop” and ask all the questions they both wanted answered, while Carla pretended to be embarrassed by her mother’s eagerness.

He was just about to ask Carla a question about her friendship with Karl—anything to change the subject—when there was a loud crash to his right.

The woman Cal had seen outside was standing near the entrance to the dining room with a large tray in her hands. One of the bowls had fallen off and shattered onto the tile floor.

“What the hell?” Carla yelled. “Juniper! Clean that shit up!”

“Sorry,” the woman said, not sounding very sorry to Cal’s ears.

“It’s impossible to find good help these days,” Elaine said, punctuating the clichéd comment with a shake of her head.

Cal scooted his chair back and was half out of his chair, ready to help Juniper pick up the broken shards of the bowl, when Carla put her hand on his arm, stopping him.

“She’s got it. She dropped it, she can clean it up. Just ignore her. I’m so excited about my upcoming photo shoot,” she rattled on. “It’s with a national retail store. When they called my agent, the rep said I was the only model they wanted, and they’d do anything to get me.”

Cal tuned out Carla’s conceited ramblings and, from the corner of his eye, watched Juniper deftly clean up the mess. He saw her look up and glance at his dining companions for a quick moment, before looking away with a knowing half smile.

She intrigued him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she dropped the bowl on purpose. Why? He wasn’t sure, but it had been an effective distraction from Elaine’s question about the king and queen.

Before he was ready to see her go, Juniper disappeared through the door, he assumed to return to the kitchen.

Carla and her mother didn’t even seem to notice. They talked nonstop without giving him much of a chance to participate in the conversation, not that he wanted to. His head was still pounding, and Cal wanted nothing more than to get to a dark room, close his eyes, and soak in the silence.

Juniper returned with another tray of food and served Elaine first, then Carla, before walking toward Cal. They were seated at a rectangular table with Elaine at the head, he and Carla on either side of her. Juniper placed a steaming bowl of what looked like French onion soup in front of him, her eyes focused on the task.

Her brown hair was pulled back in the same ponytail he’d seen earlier. Wisps had escaped and were curling around her forehead and face. Her cheeks were flushed, and when he inhaled, Cal could smell onion, garlic, and other spices, obviously from the food that was being prepared in the kitchen.

It seemed as if the Greens had plenty of money . . . the big house, a servant, the immaculate grounds. He yet again wondered why the hell he—a former Special Forces soldier—had been asked to come, instead of the police or a private detective, who would be better able to track down Carla’s stalker.

He felt something fall into his lap and looked down in surprise. A foil-wrapped packet of over-the-counter migraine medicine was lying on top of his napkin.

Cal looked up quickly, but Juniper was already walking away from the table.

“I hate this soup,” Carla muttered. “And she knows it.”

Elaine reached over and patted her daughter’s hand as she pressed her lips together. “You don’t have to eat it, honey.”

“I know. And I’m not. If she thinks she’s gonna give me onion breath all night, she’s wrong.”

The longer Cal spent in Carla’s presence, the less he liked her. He had no idea why Karl was so obsessed with the woman. Then he mentally snorted. Of course, he knew. Karl was a boob man. Always had been. Carla probably flashed her knockers at him during one of their video chats, and he had become putty in her hands.

Also, the longer he was around the mother-daughter duo, the more Cal could no longer deny why he was really there. Not because of any stalker the girl might have—so far, he hadn’t heard or seen any evidence there actually was a stalker.

No. Because of who he was. Prince Redmon.

Familiar or not, it had been a long time since he’d had to deal with this kind of shite.

Sighing, Cal picked up his spoon in one hand while grabbing the packet of pills with the other. Instinctively, he kept them hidden from Elaine and Carla. He didn’t like to show any kind of weakness to anyone, not that a headache was much of a weakness, but as a POW, he’d learned to keep his pain to himself. As he leaned in to taste the soup—which was the best French onion soup he’d ever had—Cal glanced down and saw something scrawled on the small packet. Presumably a note from Juniper.

For your head.

Somewhat amusing, because what else would the pills be for? But Cal was still shocked that she’d somehow known he was in pain. He’d gotten very good at hiding his emotions from those around him, except for his best friends back in Maine. And somehow this woman, after being in his presence for what . . . two minutes, while serving meals, had not only realized he was hurting but had attempted to do something about it.

The draw he felt when he’d seen her earlier increased tenfold. He didn’t know how, but he would figure out a way to talk to her. As soon as possible.

He managed to eat his soup while half listening to Carla and keeping one eye on the door. He needed to see Juniper again. Wanted to hear her voice. It was an uncomfortable compulsion, but one he didn’t even try to fight. No one had ever intrigued him so much.

“Are you listening?” Carla demanded.

Cal wanted to say, “No,” then stand up and leave, but he’d been trained from a young age to be polite and never make a scene. “Of course.”

“Good.” Then Carla launched into another monologue about her last photo shoot and every single thing that was wrong with it.

Cal smothered a sigh. This was hell, and he couldn’t wait to be done. He vowed to call Karl and tell him what a wanker he was. And that he needed to start watching porn instead of chatting with desperate American women over the internet.

He managed to open the packet of pills and swallow them down without either woman noticing. Not sure the pills would touch the hammering in his brain. He was still glad to have them.

The door to the dining room opened, and she was back. Juniper. She didn’t look at him, just calmly picked up the soup bowls and headed back out of the room. Cal wanted to know what color her eyes were. Wanted to thank her for the pills. Wanted to see if there was any sign of the connection he felt in her gaze. But he didn’t get the chance.

Juniper entered and exited the room many times over the next hour. Filling empty water glasses, removing dishes, and bringing new ones brimming with some of the best food Cal had eaten in a very long time. Meanwhile, Elaine and Carla complained about every course. The food was too cold, too spicy, had too many calories . . . the list went on and on.

But Juniper acted as if she didn’t hear their complaints. She didn’t say a word as she served the group, her serene expression firmly in place. Cal found himself eating more than he thought he would . . . especially since, when he had a migraine, he usually didn’t feel like eating at all.

As he ate, Carla and Elaine prattled on about the modeling contracts Carla had gotten, how she was becoming one of the most well-known names in the industry.

That is, until Juniper brought in a tray of what looked like the most decadent chocolate mousse he’d ever seen, which he couldn’t wait to try.

Carla stood up so fast, her chair fell to the floor behind her.

“Are you kidding me?” she screeched. “Mother! Do you see this?”

“Yes, dear,” Elaine said calmly. “But I’m not sure it’s a reason to lose your decorum.”

“She’s doing this on purpose! Trying to get me fat! Well, it won’t work!” Carla glared at Juniper and said in a low, hateful tone, “You’re the fat one around here, not me.”

“Carla!” Elaine scolded in mock outrage.

Cal watched the scene with extreme interest. Juniper stood stock still, holding the tray with the three plates of dessert, staring at Carla calmly, as if she hadn’t just been insulted and denigrated . . . or as if she was used to being spoken to in such a way.

Carla took a deep breath and seemed to realize she was making a scene. She turned away from Juniper and smiled at Cal. “I don’t know about you, but I’m stuffed. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.” Then, still simpering, said, “I suppose it’s time to tell you about my stalker. That is why you’re here. To keep me safe.”

Elaine stood, and Cal sighed and followed suit. Despite enduring three courses and over two hours at the table with these women, he was still disappointed he wouldn’t get to taste the chocolate mousse. It looked delicious. And if it was half as tasty as everything else he’d eaten tonight, it would’ve been a nice ending to the meal.

“You heard her. Go,” Elaine said in a hard tone to Juniper.

Without a word or a glance in his direction, she turned and left the dining room.

“We’ll go to the sitting room. It’ll be more relaxing for us all,” Elaine said smoothly.

Cal followed the two women out of the dining room, feeling uncomfortable at leaving the dirty dishes on the table. His mom had always hammered into his brain that while he might be a prince, he was still expected to do his fair share of housework. He always had chores, like clearing the table and helping the cook wash the dishes, taking out the rubbish, and keeping his bedroom tidy.

Doing his best to turn his attention to the present, Cal winced when Elaine shut the door to the sitting room a little too hard. Carla walked over to the small love seat and sat. Elaine took the large chair across from her, leaving only one place for him to sit—next to Carla. Which wasn’t going to happen.

Before being taken captive, he’d been pursued by the most cunning and desperate women in all of Europe. These two were out of their league. They just had no idea.

He leaned casually against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “If I’m going to help, I need to know everything,” he said sternly.

A look of frustration that he wasn’t falling in line and doing as she wanted crossed Carla’s face a second before her lip began to quiver. She reached over to grab a tissue out of the box conveniently placed next to the love seat.

She dabbed her eyes—her dry eyes—and sighed before speaking. “It all started about three or four weeks ago. I received some flowers here at home. They were beautiful, two dozen pink roses. The card said, ‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.’ I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I get gifts from admirers all the time.”

“At home?” Cal asked.

“What?”

“Do you get gifts sent here to your home all the time?”

“Well . . . yeah. Where else would they send them?”

“How do people know your address?”

Carla paused, looking momentarily nonplussed, before shrugging prettily, her breasts almost jumping out of her dress. It was all Cal could do to keep his eyes on her face. It wasn’t that he wanted to see her boobs; he was legitimately curious how long the tiny dress could keep them contained.

“I would think it’s easy enough to find,” she said, shrugging yet again . . . and Cal got a distinct feeling she was trying to expose herself, maybe so she could feign embarrassment while he dutifully reassured her that she was beautiful and begged her not to concern herself.

Or maybe she thought he’d be so overwhelmed at the sight of her bare flesh, he’d ask her to marry him right then and there.

That so wasn’t happening.

“Right, so what happened next?” he asked.

“The next day, I got a letter. It was taped to the front door. It was sweet. Talking about how pretty I was and how much he admired me. Then flowers appeared on my car windshield. Every day there have been gifts. At first, I wasn’t worried. Men like to give me presents. But then . . .” She shivered.

“The gifts started getting weird,” Elaine said, picking up the story for her daughter. “Handcuffs, a ball gag . . . even a knife.”

“A knife?” Cal asked, furrowing his brow. “That’s odd.”

“Right? It was one of those knives with the ridges on it too,” Carla said.

“A serrated knife?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and the note that came with it said he was going to use it on me soon.”

Cal’s misgivings increased. He highly doubted a stalker would leave a knife for his intended victim. If anything, it would give her something to use against him, which wouldn’t be smart. “Where are all the items you’ve received?” he asked.

“Oh, the flowers died, so I threw them away, and I couldn’t bear to look at the other things, so I got rid of them as well.”

“And the notes?” Cal asked.

“I was scared,” Carla said with a sniff. “I thought if I got rid of them, I wouldn’t have to deal with what was happening.”

“Did you at least take pictures of them?”

Carla shook her head.

Cal sighed in frustration. Of course, there was no evidence. How convenient.

“I’m just so relieved you’re here to watch over me,” she said breathlessly. “When I told Karl how scared I was, and how I feel like someone’s watching me every time I step out of the house, he promised you were the best person to help keep me safe. I just know I’ll feel more secure if you’re with me while I’m modeling. You’ll make sure no one gets near me.”

“Who do you think this is?” Cal asked. If Carla and Elaine thought he was going to hang out for weeks on end, glued to Carla’s side, they were sorely mistaken. He was here as a favor to his family, to gather as much information as he could before talking to either the police or a private detective, who were much more qualified to help. If her stalker was indeed real, the police and an actual bodyguard would do her a lot more good than Cal could.

“I don’t know!” Carla wailed. “I mean, I’ve dated my share of men who weren’t happy when we broke up. I’ve been proposed to twice, and all of my boyfriends were practically obsessed with me, but I don’t think any of them would do this.”

“I’m going to need a list of names,” Cal said, doing his best not to roll his eyes. “Men you’ve dated, modeling rivals . . . anyone who might have a reason to be upset with you.”

“Of course,” Elaine said. “I’ll start on that tonight and get it to you in the morning.”

Cal nodded. “What do you think he wants? Without seeing the notes for myself, it’s hard to understand what this guy’s motive is.”

Carla smirked and sat up straighter, gesturing to her body with a hand. “He wants this,” she said arrogantly.

Cal did his best to keep his cool. “Do they just want sex? Or do they want to kill you for some reason? Jealousy? Revenge? Money? There’s always a motive, and I’m having a hard time understanding what that is. Once we figure that out, we can narrow down the suspects, and the cops can start interviewing any men and women who seem to have the greatest motives.”

Carla opened her mouth to respond, but the door to the room opened.

Cal almost chuckled. Saved by the door, again.

Juniper entered, wearing the same jeans, T-shirt, and apron she’d had on earlier. She was carrying another tray that looked way too heavy for her, and Cal actually pushed off the wall to help her before he stopped himself. He had a feeling if he showed the slightest speck of interest in this woman, Carla and Elaine would lose their minds. So he forced himself to slump back against the wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

He watched as she put the tray down on a low coffee table and poured two cups of what he assumed was coffee. It was so light, he knew without having to ask that it was full of cream and sugar and probably other flavoring. Then she picked up a second pot and poured steaming hot water into a third cup. She picked up the saucer it sat upon and walked toward him, holding it out.

“Peppermint tea,” she said almost shyly, without meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t sure if you drank coffee, since you’re British and all, so I thought maybe a nice cuppa tea would hit the spot.”

He grinned at her attempt to use British slang.

“It might help your head too,” she said so softly, Cal barely heard her.

Before he could respond, Elaine said sharply, “That will be all, Juniper. We’re in the middle of a very important and private conversation. Don’t interrupt us again.”

Juniper nodded and immediately turned and headed for the door.

Cal took a sip of the tea and sighed in contentment. He’d learned over the years to drink strong black coffee, since it was what his friends drank. But after getting out of the Army, he’d gotten in the habit of indulging in English tea after dinner. This hit the spot.

Once again, he marveled at how observant and considerate Juniper was. He also wondered about her story. She was older than Carla but maybe not quite as old as Cal. Maybe in her early thirties. Why would she stay here? Putting up with being talked down to and treated like shite?

He had more questions about Juniper than he did about Carla’s stalker . . . which made him feel a little guilty.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I went to the police, and they said they couldn’t help me, since I didn’t keep any of the notes or gifts,” Carla said, dabbing the tissue at her dry eyes once more as she sniffed delicately. “Basically, they told me that after I’m attacked or killed, they could start an investigation.”

Cal didn’t know a lot about police procedure, but that didn’t sound right to him. He merely nodded and took another sip of tea.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if another ‘gift’ was delivered tomorrow,” Elaine said. “He seems to know her schedule, and since she doesn’t have a shoot for another couple of days, he’ll deliver whatever he wants her to have, to scare her, here at the house.”

“Do you have security cameras?” Cal asked.

Elaine shook her head.

“Don’t you think you should? It would catch the stalker red handed if he’s delivering the gifts,” Cal said rationally.

“I’ve talked to a few companies, but they either don’t show up, or they’re booked for months,” Elaine said with a shrug.

“You could always go to an electronics store and pick up the battery-operated ones. Or order them online; they’d be here in a day or so,” Cal pushed. He wanted to see how far they’d go in their excuses. If he or someone he loved had a stalker, he’d have security cameras hooked up as soon as possible.

“I’m n-not so good with electronics,” Elaine said haltingly, with a small stutter.

“And they could be hacked into,” Carla said with an enthusiastic nod. “Besides, I’m on camera all the time, and it would feel like an intrusion to have them here at home too.”

Cal wanted to roll his eyes. Their excuses were ridiculous, and with every word out of their mouths, he was more and more convinced there was no stalker. He’d come all this way for nothing.

He took another sip of his tea, and his lips twitched slightly.

Well . . . maybe not nothing.

“Right. So what do you want me to do?” he asked bluntly.

“Keep me safe, of course,” Carla simpered. “Stay by my side to make sure this freak doesn’t get his hands on me.”

“For how long?”

“Excuse me?” Carla asked.

“For how long?” Cal repeated. “Without cameras, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to catch this person very quickly. If he leaves a note, we could turn that in to the police in the hopes of getting his fingerprints, but if he wears gloves, that will be a dead end. The notes and gifts could go on for weeks. Months. How long do you expect me to stay by your side?”

“As long as it takes,” Carla said, almost triumphantly.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out who’s harassing her sooner rather than later,” Elaine said, obviously a little smarter than her daughter and understanding that Cal wanted some kind of time frame. “We know you have your little business up in Maine, and we wouldn’t want to interfere with your life for too long. We’re just so grateful you came down to see what you could do. So any amount of time you can stay would be appreciated.”

He could almost hear the words she didn’t say. They were hoping he’d fall madly in love with Carla while he was here and decide to never leave. And he didn’t miss the bit about his little business back home.

“What’s your schedule in the morning?”

“I usually eat breakfast around eleven,” Carla said. “Then I’m going to go shopping to find some lingerie to wear for a photo shoot I’ve set up for later this week. My agent said he’d send the pictures to Playboy and that there’s a good chance I could be Playmate of the Year.”

Cal guessed he was supposed to be impressed by that. He wasn’t. Not in the least.

“Right, so we’ll regroup tomorrow after you’ve had breakfast. We’ll see if any other gifts are left, and I’ll look into getting some cameras set up, at least outside the entrances.”

“Wait . . . but . . . I don’t want cameras!” Carla said with a pout.

“Do you want to catch your stalker?” Cal asked.

“Of course, I do.”

“Then I’ll be setting up cameras,” he said firmly.

Carla glowered. “Whatever.”

“It’ll be fine, Carla,” Elaine soothed. “Prince Redmon obviously knows what he’s doing. It’s why he’s here.”

“Don’t call me that,” Cal said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, sorry. Of course. Cal, then,” Elaine said with a smile. “First names are better, since we’ll be working so closely together.”

That was it. Cal glanced at his watch. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock, still early, but he was over this whole evening. “I think we’re done here for now. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He regretted to his core agreeing to stay at the house while he was trying to figure out who Carla’s stalker was. At the time, it seemed easier, and he would be better able to protect Carla from someone who was out to do her harm if he was on the premises. But now that he was pretty sure why he was really there—because Carla Green had aspirations to snag herself a prince—he wanted nothing more than to get back into his Rolls and head home.

“I’ll show you where your room is,” Carla said as she stood.

Once again, Cal wondered how the hell she wasn’t falling out of the flimsy cups of the dress. She must have some sort of double-sided tape keeping them in place. Not only that, but the hem of the dress had hiked up so high while she was sitting, he could almost see her underwear.

Cal would never tell a woman what to wear—ever. And she obviously thought the dress was sexy, an opinion most heterosexual men would share. But to his eye, it was simply sleazy.

“No need,” he said quickly. “Just tell me where it is. I need to get some stuff out of my car, then I want to walk the perimeter of the house and make a call or two.”

Carla pouted again, but Elaine quickly intervened. “We put you in the blue room. Top of the stairs, hallway to the left, the third door on the right. It’s got a full bathroom attached, and there are towels and everything you’ll want inside.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m right next door, if you need anything,” Carla informed him.

Cal pressed his lips together. He was in literal hell. “Right. Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. But ladies, we will be going back to the police station soon. They’re the ones who’ll be able to figure out who’s stalking you, and why. Not me.”

He saw the clear frustration in both women’s eyes, but he was done with this farce for now. He needed some sleep and some peace and quiet. Tomorrow, hopefully when his head wasn’t hurting, he’d figure out what to do next. He’d have to stay on his toes around these two—that was for sure. At least it wasn’t the eighteen hundreds any longer. He had a feeling neither Elaine nor Carla would think twice about entrapping him in some sort of compromising position and insisting he marry the latter.

Cal walked over to the tray still on the table and deposited his teacup before taking his leave. He didn’t see anyone around as he strode toward the front door. He stepped outside and walked quickly around the large house, heading straight to his SUV, where he climbed behind the wheel and rested his aching skull on the headrest. The blessed silence was heaven. The over-the-counter pills Juniper had given him had actually taken the edge off his migraine, but nothing would make it go away completely except for a good night’s sleep.

He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. His muscles were still tight as hell, and he would’ve given anything to have a huge tree to chop up right about now. The pain from his time as a captive was always there, but the physical labor he did for Jack’s Lumber sometimes helped stretch out the scar tissue and aching muscles.

He curled his hands into fists and opened his eyes. The moon was full tonight, giving him enough light to see the scars on his hands and fingers. He couldn’t see the others, as he was wearing long sleeves and pants, per usual, but he could feel them.

He was a modern-day monster. His captors had beaten his face with their fists, saving their knives and other sharp implements for the rest of his body. They hadn’t even spared his cock or balls. The pain had been unbelievably excruciating—it still gave him nightmares—but he hadn’t given them the satisfaction of hearing a single scream or moan from his lips.

Still, the damage was done. Carla would be appalled if she saw his body. She’d shrink away from him in fear, probably cry real tears—not the fake ones she’d been attempting to squeeze out tonight. She wouldn’t want anything to do with him if she knew what he looked like.

Hell, maybe he should let her accidentally catch him without a shirt on. That should be enough to have her begging Karl to make him leave. For a second, Cal seriously considered it. She was right next door. He could “accidentally” leave his door open when he heard her stirring in the morning and let her find him with his chest bare.

There was a chance she’d already cooked up a scheme to catch him naked anyway. She wouldn’t be the first. He could just let her have her way, and that would be that.

Cal sighed. No, he wouldn’t do that. He was a Redmon. He always followed through with his responsibilities. He said he’d do what he could to get to the bottom of Carla Green’s stalker situation, even if that meant discovering no stalker existed. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not until he had proof of either a real threat or that mother and daughter were lying in the hopes of landing a rich prince.

Taking a deep breath, Cal reached for his cell phone. He’d promised he’d keep his friends in the loop as to what was going on. He clicked on JJ’s name and waited for him to answer.

Jackson “JJ” Justice was their de facto leader. He was the oldest of the four of them, and their tree service business was named after him. He was the one who’d suggested getting out of the military and starting some sort of business to begin with, and he was the glue that held them all together. Cal trusted the man with his life and was looking forward to getting his opinion on this messed-up stalker business.

“Hey, Cal. What’s up? Everything good?”

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” JJ said in a no-nonsense tone, one of a hundred reasons why Cal liked and respected him.

He told his friend and former team leader everything that had happened since he’d arrived. How he didn’t think there was a stalker at all, about the Greens’ reluctance to put up cameras . . . even describing Carla’s overt attempts at flirting and her ridiculously revealing dress. He left out nothing. Not even the pills or tea that the mysterious Juniper had given him.

When he was done, he waited for JJ to say something, and when he didn’t, Cal frowned. “JJ?”

“I’m here.”

“So? What do you think?”

“I think Chappy is gonna be happy he’ll be able to put his ring on Carlise’s finger sooner rather than later.”

“What?” Cal asked, confused. “What does that have to do with anything? I told him I’d arrange a weekend off for the wedding. That he wouldn’t have to wait if this turned into an extended trip.”

“I know what you told him, but I also know Chappy. He’s not going to want you to drive all the way home, go to their wedding and reception, and then turn around and drive all the way back to DC, especially with the hell that’d wreak on your body. He wants to wait until you’re home for good.”

“That’s ridiculous. I could fly. It wouldn’t be a big deal,” Cal muttered, but deep down, he knew JJ was right. Chappy was a protector to his core. He wouldn’t do anything to stress Cal out or inconvenience him. Even if that meant waiting to marry the love of his life.

“So basically, you think they’re lying and that they’re hoping her magic tits will somehow win you over, and you’ll ask her to marry you, and she’ll get to be a princess,” JJ summed up in one breath. “Is that about right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you come home tomorrow?” he asked.

Cal sighed. “What if I’m wrong? What if there really is a stalker, and when I leave, he strikes, hurting Carla . . . or worse? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Right. So you’re going to stay until you know for sure.”

“As much as I don’t want to, yes,” Cal admitted.

Another lengthy pause passed. “What’s up with the Juniper chick?”

“I don’t know,” he said, feeling his heart rate speed up just thinking about the other woman.

“What does your gut say?”

JJ was fond of asking that. He did it all the time when they were in the military. They’d relied on their guts more often than their superiors would’ve been comfortable with. And since that last mission had ended on such a sour note, and JJ admitted that he’d ignored his own misgivings, he vowed never to do so again.

Even though their gut feelings were no longer life and death but more about which direction a tree might fall when cut down or who should lead which groups on the Appalachian Trail, he was constantly asking for input from the others. Cal wasn’t surprised he was asking now.

“That I need to talk to her. Find out what she knows, if anything. Why she’s here. Why she puts up with those two bitches. How she knew I had a migraine.”

“Then stay until you find out all the answers,” JJ said simply. “About the stalker, Juniper, all of it. And when you do, come home with a clear conscience.”

“Right.”

“I’m guessing you’ll be home by Saturday.”

Cal chuckled. “It’s Sunday,” he reminded his friend. “That’s not even a week from now.”

“I know,” JJ said without a hint of laughter. “You’re good, Cal,” he said. “Damn good. You’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on in no time. Hell, I think you already have, but you just want more proof. And I’m guessing with how observant this Juniper woman seems to be, she’ll probably have plenty of info for you. You know better than most how things work. People talk around the hired help and don’t think anything of it. I bet she, and any other people who work in that house, knows all about what Carla and her mother are planning. You can be charming when you want, Cal. Turn that charm in Juniper’s direction and find out what you need to know. Then come home so Chappy can get married.”

“You just want me on the schedule again,” Cal joked.

JJ snorted. “Whatever. You know we can handle things without you. But on that note, April’s driving me crazy. She doesn’t like it when all her chicks aren’t in the nest.”

Cal smiled. April Hoffman was their administrative assistant at Jack’s Lumber. More than that, she was like a sister to them, even if she acted like their mother. She worried and hovered and generally kept them all on their toes. She ran their business as if she’d been doing it all her life, and Cal didn’t know what they’d do without her.

There was also something going on with her and JJ . . . but no one knew what. They acted like they annoyed each other, but when one of them wasn’t looking, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. Cal didn’t know what was holding JJ back; he wasn’t normally a man who didn’t go after what he wanted. But Cal had a feeling that when JJ finally made his move, April wouldn’t know what hit her.

“Right. Well, we’ll see,” Cal told his friend.

“Keep me in the loop. I’ll talk to the others, let them know what’s up. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call. Understand?”

His tone became hard, and Cal closed his eyes in gratitude. JJ and the others would always have his back, and it felt good. He might be in DC on his own, but they’d be here in hours if he needed them. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Go get some sleep. But watch your back. I wouldn’t put it past a woman like Carla to drug you and end up pregnant.”

Cal shuddered. “Not happening.”

“Right. As I said, watch your back. We’ll talk later.”

“Later,” Cal said, then clicked off the phone.

He stared at the house and sighed. He really did want to do a walk around the property’s grounds, get his bearings, see if there were any places someone could sneak up to the house, and scope out the best place to put up cameras. He had a feeling the Greens didn’t want security cameras because all they’d catch would be Carla or Elaine planting the “gifts” that were being received.

But again, until he could prove that, he had to operate as if the threat was real.

Taking a deep breath, Cal stepped out of his SUV and opened the back door to grab his duffel bag. He carried it to the house and placed it next to the front door. He’d grab it when he was ready to go inside. Then he turned and began walking around the house. The sooner he got some reconnaissance done, the sooner he could get some sleep.