Off Course, page 9
“You ready, girl?” Brantley asked Tesha as he opened the driver’s door.
Reese got out and went to the rear of the truck while Brantley got Tesha out of the backseat. He opened the tailgate and grabbed their bags from the bed, shouldering his and Brantley’s, then passing over Tesha’s when Brantley came around for it.
The three of them made their way to the plane, with Slade and Becs falling into step with them when they neared.
“Any word?” Slade asked, glancing between them.
Reese answered with a shake of his head. JJ and Luca were already working on it, and he figured they would have plenty of information once they were in the air. At least enough to give them a foundation to build on.
“Wow,” Atticus gasped when he stepped into the plane. “Y’all aren’t playing around, huh?”
“The only way to fly,” Slade told him.
“No, shit.” Atticus looked around. “Do I sit somewhere specific?”
“As long as there’s a seat belt, you can sit there,” Brantley told him as he moved deeper into the plane.
Reese got Tesha settled in and buckled. He’d learned she actually preferred to be secure when they traveled, and it made him feel a hell of a lot better. Because she’d spent so much of her life chained up, Reese always ensured she could reach him or Brantley and that she had her blanket and a bully stick. She’d gotten so used to traveling that she would even nap from time to time.
Reese looked up as Atticus was glancing at the seat beside Brantley.
“Sit there, and I’ll cut your dick off,” he told him, keeping his tone even.
Atticus laughed. “Got it, boss.”
Brantley snorted a laugh, his gaze meeting Reese’s.
Reese winked.
Fifteen minutes later, they were airborne, everyone settling in for the four-hour flight.
“I didn’t realize Decker was on another assignment,” Slade said casually, pulling his laptop out of his bag.
“Where’d you think he was?” Brantley asked, amusement in his voice.
“Hell if I know. The guy’s not exactly an open book.”
“He’s been gone for two months,” Becs relayed. “You didn’t think to question whether he quit?”
Slade shrugged. “Not my business.”
In all fairness, they had been busy the past couple of months, ever since they’d staged Uncle Toby’s death after he got himself mixed up in a mafia turf war. It was a never-ending cycle when it came to cases. As soon as they finished one, another would pop up. And now that they were doing personal security assignments, their time was becoming increasingly limited.
They rarely had time to work on the cold ones anymore. Since June, they’d assisted on two active cases with local police departments and were making some headway in the social media case they’d been working on. With new members on the team there to assist, Decker’s absence hadn’t been as glaringly obvious as it would’ve been if they were short-handed.
“I’ve got JJ gettin’ us the details on the Kavanaghs,” Brantley noted, skimming his phone.
“We know nothing about her?” Atticus asked, reclining back like this was a vacation, not a job.
“If you watch television, you should know enough,” Becs said, crossing her legs. “I’m just confused because the last I heard, the Kavanaghs were gearing up for the wedding of the century. Or maybe that’s why they needed extra security.”
Reese stared at Becs, waiting for her to elaborate.
She frowned and glanced around. “I’m seriously the only one who knows?”
Slade shrugged. Atticus smirked. Brantley’s eyebrows rose.
“Saoirse Kavanagh is the youngest of the four. They moved to New York from Ireland a couple of years ago when they opened a new headquarters. I don’t know much about the business, but I can tell you anything you want to know about the billionaire playboys and their sister.”
“Don’t leave anything out,” Atticus urged. “Any of them single? And gay?”
Becs giggled. “I don’t know about their sexual preferences, but I do know they’re all single. At least now, they are. Saoirse’s the baby and the only girl, so they treat her with kid gloves. She turned twenty-nine this year, and according to the gossip blogs, to celebrate, she had a soiree to rival even the ball dropping in Times Square a few days before. It was there she met Lawson Nova.”
“Casanova?” Slade asked.
Reese recalled the name, but he remained quiet.
Atticus smirked. “I thought they called him Supernova.”
“They did,” Slade said. “Back when he was in his prime. But his shitty career took a backseat to his playboy ways. His stats have taken a downward trend for the past five years. Rumor was he was tryin’ to get traded.”
Reese could feel Brantley’s eyes on him, so he did his best to explain. “Starting quarterback for the New York Surge.”
“Football,” Brantley nodded. “Got it.”
“Yep,” Becs continued. “And they say it’s been a storybook romance between him and Saoirse. They dated for three weeks before he popped the question. They’re supposed to be getting married in ten days.”
“I heard he was a hothead with a superiority complex,” Atticus added.
“I don’t think you’re off on that,” Becs said. “There’s been plenty of media coverage about their fights.”
“Thought you said it was a storybook romance?” Reese asked Becs.
“Is there really any such thing?” she countered with a shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. When I hear Kavanagh, she’s not the first one I think of.”
“Well, I think yours is a storybook romance, boss,” Slade drawled.
“If the storybook’s a crime novel, maybe,” Atticus added.
Brantley flipped them off even as his other hand brushed Reese’s knee.
Reese couldn’t help but grin.
***
“How goes it?”
JJ looked up from her computer screen and pursed her lips at Baz. “It goes.”
“Feeling better?”
She nodded. She’d been grumpy when she woke up this morning, having been jarred awake by the ringing of her cell phone. For the most part, she was a morning person, so it didn’t surprise her that Baz had noticed. She probably could’ve apologized for it, but there was a good chance it would happen again in a day or two. The last thing she wanted was to make him think she could change her mood on a whim. It wasn’t happening, so why bother?
“You get the info Brantley asked for?”
“And then some.” She exhaled heavily and leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the desktop. “To say the Kavanaghs are high profile would be an understatement. I kicked off a program to pull some images from the internet, using one I found on the company website. I think it blew up my program. There are probably more pictures of this girl than … than I have no idea.”
“As my dad likes to say, a shit-ton, huh?”
“Exactly.” JJ grinned, recalling the last conversation she’d had with Wesley Buchanan.
They’d gone to dinner with Baz’s parents the weekend before last, and when JJ got to the restaurant, she hadn’t been surprised to see not only Aretha, Baz’s stepmother, but also Baz’s mother, Julie. Since Julie and Wes learned she was pregnant, they always seemed to be together. How Aretha could stand it was anyone’s guess. She was Wes’s sixth wife, and JJ hated to say it, but she was starting to believe there was only one woman Wes would ever truly love, and that was Jules. Not that their relationship was any of her business, but she wouldn’t deny that she was expecting them to get back together at some point.
As for the conversation, Wes’s use of shit-ton had been in reference to the amount of diapers they were going to go through when the peanut was born.
Baz moved closer, so JJ clicked the mouse to bring up the picture of Saoirse Kavanagh.
“She’s gorgeous,” JJ noted, staring at the black-haired woman with light green eyes. Her face was absolute perfection, not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. And it was that way in every photo, so she knew it wasn’t photoshopped.
“That’s how you spell her name?” Baz leaned closer. “Holy shit.”
JJ laughed. “That’s what you got from that picture?”
He pointed at the name as though that explained everything. And in a way, it did. JJ had thought the same thing when she saw the name for the first time. She never would’ve gotten the phonetics correct if Z hadn’t said it first. To get ser-shuh from a word with that many vowels was beyond her abilities.
“She’s got three older brothers,” JJ informed him, flipping through the other photos she had open. “I was wrong earlier when I said Ronan was the oldest. Callum is. He’s thirty-three. He’s got the most responsibility at the company, and from what I can tell, all work and no play makes Callum a dull boy.” She flipped to the next photo. “And then there’s Ronan, he’s thirty-one. Recently divorced, he’s back on the dating scene, and the New York nightlife is his playground.” She tapped the mouse. “And last but not least is Liam. He turned thirty earlier this year, and while he’s dedicated to learning the ropes at Kavanagh Holdings, he’s trying to break a record for dating as many supermodels as humanly possible. Sometimes more than one at a time.”
Baz’s eyebrows inched upward.
“Yep. He’s been known to date them in pairs.”
The man she loved was smart. He had nothing to say to that.
“Why would the brothers want someone looking after their sister?”
JJ turned to the keyboard and typed. “If I had to guess, they want to keep an eye on this guy.”
“Lawson Nova?”
She peered up at him. “You know him?”
Baz chuckled. “Well, no. But he’s a football player, so I know of him.”
“He’s also Saoirse’s fiancé as of a few months ago. They’re supposed to get married in ten days.”
“Anything to say their relationship’s not solid?” the sexy detective asked as he perched on the edge of her desk.
“You mean, aside from the fact they just met and got engaged?”
Baz’s eyebrows rose. “There’s no time limit on love. When you know, you know.”
Right. He might believe that, but JJ wasn’t of the same mind. And when it came to rich people, she was pretty sure they should have a time limit. A required one. Something that forced them to get to know each other versus hyping things up for the cameras and riding the wave of pheromones and lust right to the altar. It rarely seemed to end well.
“Fine,” she conceded. “And to answer, yes, I turned up a few things that raised red flags for me.”
“Like?”
“For starters, there are very few factual details of their relationship. Most of what’s on the internet are fan pics. Even a few videos.” She figured letting him see for himself made more sense, so she pulled up one and clicked play.
“You crazy bitch!” Lawson shouted, his hand raised as he stood over Saoirse.
JJ hit the pause button.
“Looks like they’re at a club,” she told Baz.
“Tell me he doesn’t hit her,” Baz seethed.
“No. He doesn’t, but the rest of the video is much of the same. Him hollerin’ at her. You can’t make out anything she says, but from her expression, she’s as pissed as he is. By the end, they’re sucking face like they’ve been apart for a year. Besides those videos and a few photos taken shortly after they announced the engagement, there aren’t many of them together. Considering how much they’re photographed individually, that feels off to me.”
“Off?” Baz crossed his arms over his chest. “How so?”
“They’re both glory hounds, from what I can tell. The news of their engagement broke, and for the two weeks after that, they were everywhere. Then suddenly, they’re out of the limelight as a couple? I’m not buyin’ it.”
“Maybe they broke up,” Baz mused.
“I don’t think so. That video was taken last Friday.”
“Was Deck in the video?”
JJ shook her head. “Not that I could tell. And I haven’t seen a glimpse of him in any photos I’ve come across. If he’s keepin’ an eye on her, he’s doin’ it from a distance.”
She turned back to the screen and stared at the frozen image of Saoirse. The way she was looking up at Lawson … it felt off to her.
“It’s something in her eyes,” she mumbled.
“Meaning?”
She shrugged. “It could be my imagination, Baz. Seriously. I don’t trust my instincts right now, so I can’t be sure.”
Baz frowned, canting his head to the side as he studied her.
JJ felt the scrutiny in his gaze and was compelled to explain. “I’m hung up on that woman from Ava’s case. I still can’t find her, and I’ve done everything short of takin’ out an ad.”
Although Harrison Rivers was dead and Ava March was no longer in danger from the crazy bastard who attempted to kill her, JJ was still trying to find a woman she suspected was Harrison’s first victim. Admittedly, JJ wasn’t spending as much time on it as she had been, but she knew she wouldn’t rest until she found the woman. Dead or alive.
She sighed. “I know I should move on, but I can’t.”
Baz’s smile was slow and sinful. “One of many things I love about you.”
JJ’s chest squeezed, just as it did every time he said that. She figured she should be used to it by now, but she wasn’t. In fact, every time Baz said those three little words, she felt as though it was the first time. Except for Baz, she honestly couldn’t say when the last time someone told her they loved her. Not her mother, not her father, and since she had no one else…
“JJ?”
She focused on the present. “Hmm?”
“Where’d you go just then?”
Forcing a smile that quickly turned genuine, she pushed to her feet. “Nowhere. I’m good.”
Baz’s arms lowered, widening to allow her to step in close. The moment she did, he put his hand on the baby bump that was getting bigger by the day.
“How’s the peanut?” Baz asked softly, pressing his nose to her cheek.
She was twenty-nine weeks pregnant, and while the first few months had been uneventful except for the wicked bouts of morning sickness, she was seeing drastic changes in her body, most notably, the protrusion of her belly and the size of her boobs. But more than the outward differences, she was hyper-focused on every single move the baby made. Whenever the peanut wasn’t moving, JJ would begin to worry. She would kick as though she knew her mom was starting to panic. Sometimes just once, but it was enough.
“The peanut’s good,” she said, sighing with contentment.
“Can I get you anything?”
She had to think about that one for a minute. Pregnancy had brought on a whole new slew of cravings and, each day, a unique combination. Yesterday, she’d convinced Baz to go to the store and buy her sweet gherkins, saltines, and Colby Jack cheese. Last week had been easier when she’d wanted chocolate-covered Ritz crackers and Nutella.
“I could really use some coffee,” she decided.
One of his dark eyebrows rose slowly. “I take it you’re not referring to regular coffee.”
Her grin exploded. “A caramel Frappuccino with mocha drizzle.”
“Decaf?”
“Definitely.”
“So basically, you want a caramel milkshake with mocha drizzle?”
“Even better.”
Baz smirked as he stood tall, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Coming right up, hot mama.”
JJ’s eyes narrowed. “Eww. No. Not that.”
Baz laughed. “Yeah. I heard it as soon as it came out of my mouth.”
He walked away, still laughing, making JJ’s heart expand with even more love for him. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to loving someone as much as she loved him, but she was enjoying the hell out of the journey.
Chapter Ten
“How do you want to handle this?” Brantley asked Reese when they arrived at the hotel after picking up the SUV Z had rented for them.
Luckily, they’d arrived during a lull in activity, so checking in only took a few minutes. A little longer for them since Reese had informed the concierge they required a refrigerator. Not because he was a diva but because they had to have a place to store Tesha’s food.
Since the hotel was booked, they’d had to settle for having a refrigerator delivered to their room. She assured them it would be there by the time they went up. Brantley was skeptical, but stranger things had happened.
“Put our stuff in the room,” Reese said, talking to him as well as Becs, Atticus, and Slade. “Let’s meet in the business center in, say, thirty?”
“Forty-five,” Brantley corrected.
“Forty-five,” Reese amended, his eyes narrowed.
“You think maybe we could get some food when we meet?” Slade prompted as he hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “I skipped breakfast.”
“Order it,” Brantley told him.
Slade pointed toward a sandwich shop across the street. “That work?”
“Yep. Put it on the company card.”
“Actually,” Reese said, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. “Put it on mine. I’m not fightin’ Z on this. He wants us here, he’s payin’ for all of it.”
Brantley knew Z liked to pick apart their expense reports from time to time. Probably had to do with the fact the task force was the only team Z oversaw. Everyone else reported to RT, Z’s husband. To prove he was good at managing people, Z often nit-picked the little things. That or he simply liked to get a rise out of Brantley. It could go either way. It was safer to force Z to take it up with Reese than to leave Slade fending for himself.
Slade plucked the card from Reese’s hand. “Sure thing, boss.”
