Page 131 of Triggered By Love
Could she even love again, knowing how brutal the loss could be?
She froze, barely breathing. She didn’t know how she felt about Jason. She was grateful—that was for sure—and oh, how she was attracted to him. But he was rough and rude. Bossy and opinionated.
Except she cared, and she felt soft and warm and sleepy when she was in his arms. Sleepy? Since when was sleepy a good sign?
“Did I say something wrong?” Jason’s breath warmed her face. “If I stepped where I wasn’t—”
“Shhh— You’re good.” She put a finger over his lips. “I just don’t know how to process this.”
“Let’s go in and order that pizza. I’ll let you have first dibs on the shower.”
She nodded and turned away from him, hoping he couldn’t see through her—not that she could even see through her own murky and turmoiled soul.
What did she want?
Did it even matter?
Her only tangible goal was to honor Brando at Manhattan Fashion Week. Create a clothing line that portrayed his heroism, his decency, his bravery, and his values, that of service, sacrifice, and selflessness.
She’d done it with the clothes. But had she done the right thing using the bad boy Matt Swanson as the face of her Cocky Heroes line?
Jason opened the passenger door and held out his hand. “You seem deep in thought. Are you okay?”
“Do you think I’m honoring Brando or selfishly trying to bring him back with the Cocky Heroes line?”
“There’s nothing selfish about honoring him.” He pulled her to her feet. “And even if it’s selfish, so what? Don’t you deserve to heal? To feel good?”
He was right, of course. That was what everyone was telling her. She had to let go of the survivor’s guilt. But how could she when she could have been the reason Brando died?
“I don’t deserve a damn thing until Brando’s killer is brought to justice.”
“You deserve vindication. I’m right there with you.” He clamped her close, roughly. “As for what you deserve, I aim to give it to you.”
* * *
Jason examinedthe white wires sewn into Avery’s bathing suit. They appeared to be structural, holding the shape of the pair of bands from the crotch to just below her breasts where they fanned out to provide a modified underwire functionality.
He tore apart the padded part of the bra and flipped it inside out, exposing a small microphone. He made quick work of the other padded cup and found a postage-sized transmitter but no miniature data card. He cut up the crotch area, hoping to find a data card, but the only thing there was a tiny and flat power source. Where had Tatiana gotten such sophisticated and expensive spying gear?
His heartbeat quickened. If Tatiana was doing extracurricular recording, was she hoping to blackmail the Leaches? What was her relationship to Larry exactly? She hadn’t come to their rescue in the greenhouse. Was she for the Leaches or for her own skin?
Since he was on leave of absence, he was locked out of the NYPD computer system. He’d run a check on Tatiana before, but in retrospect, she seemed too good to be true.
No priors.
Not even a speeding ticket.
She’d moved to New York two years ago, and she wasn’t in any of the Federal crime databases.
What could she have been looking for, and why would she be interested in wiring Avery’s play party with the Leaches? What was she hoping would spill out of Avery’s lips? Could it be the identity of the secret Professor Leach held over Avery’s head?
A chilling thought grabbed Jason’s scalp as he thought of the one person Avery would not want exposed.
Her father, the general.
Could he have been the one who abused her sexually while letting the professor watch and jerk off to it?
Anger exploded in his veins, and Jason wanted to wring all their necks. The air was too stuffy inside the cabin, so he strode out onto the porch and called his partner.
