by Lora Leigh
"Enough, Moriah." Jaci glanced around, making certain no one could overhear their conversation. "We have to have the evidence first. Until we acquire that, then we have nothing to back us up."
Moriah's lips thinned in anger, and she turned her back to the room to ensure no one could see the emotion on her face.
Moriah Brockheim was a completely different woman when there were no social rules in effect. She laughed and played practical jokes, she was prone to drink a little too much wine when with friends, and she knew how to keep their secrets, because she had a few of her own.
"They aren't as careful, nor are they as smart as they used to be," Moriah said as she turned and led Jaci from the buffet room. "Come on, let's find Daddy's office. He has a marvelous brandy in there. I think I could use a shot of it."
The office was secluded, private. Moriah coded in the lock, then opened the door and ushered Jaci inside before locking it behind them.
"I hate these parties," Moriah said, as she turned on a lamp and moved across the room, her dress brushing with a soft sigh against the hardwood floor. "Father always gets worried when I refuse to attend."
She moved to the bar, poured the brandy, and then handed Jaci a glass.
"Annalee's stories have been changing over the years," she said then. "The woman is obviously losing it.
Father became enraged tonight while she was demanding that you be ordered from the party. It seems, in addition to attempting to steal the money and seducing her husband, that you attempted to seduce her as well." Moriah's grimace of enraged distaste was painful to see. "As though that slut would need to be seduced."
Moriah was a secret friend, one Jaci had made certain no one suspected she possessed. Moriah's experience with the Robertses went back further than Jaci's, and the scars from it went deeper. Neither of them could risk the Robertses knowing how close their association truly was.
"Moriah, you should have told your parents by now," Jaci said.
Moriah sniffed at that. "Father would kill them. Mother would cry for months, and the scandal would be horrifying. But I want to see them destroyed, Jaci. I want it with a hunger that keeps me awake at night."
Her fist clenched at her side before she lifted the brandy glass and choked back the liquor in it.
She coughed after it went down, her face flushed, and a second later she seemed to gain the control she needed to breath out wearily.
"Have you told Cameron what happened?" Moriah asked.
Jaci shook her head. "You'll know when Cam knows—everyone will know."
"You're going to have to do something about that bitch soon," Moriah said. "She won't stop."
"I told you, it ends here."
She and Moriah had talked several times after she had come to Alexandria, though they didn't dare to meet outside the social arena that would bring them together.
"Daddy will of course discuss all this in great detail after the party." Moriah's smile was tight and hard.
"Mother is upset at Annalee's demands. You could see Annalee's fear in her eyes tonight. Or perhaps I just wanted to see it. I'll let you know what they say. Daddy won't stand for such behavior in his home."
"Moriah, have they bothered you further?" Jaci asked. She worried about that. They had terrified Moriah years before, left her with scars that Jaci feared might never heal.
"They know better," Moriah snarled, her lips tightening as the rage inside her flared to the surface. "The only thing that keeps me silent is the fact that it would destroy my parents. They would blame themselves for it, and I can't bear that." She shook her head as she sat the brandy glass carefully on the bar.
When she turned back to Jaci, there was a glitter of tears in her eyes. "Do you still have nightmares, Jaci?"
Jaci nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I see them and I become ill." Moriah breathed out roughly. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever forget it."
"You won't forget it," Jaci said, "but you're surviving, Moriah. That's all any of us can do."
Moriah breathed in roughly and nodded again. "Very well, we'd better get back. I'll call you tonight and let you know what Father said. Perhaps somehow, together, we can find a way to neutralize those monsters."
Monsters were exactly what they were. As Moriah moved ahead of her to allow them to reenter the party separately, Jaci felt her chest clench at the other girl's pain.
It was one thing to attempt to attack a grown woman and force her into the nasty games the Robertses played. But they also had attempted to force a child into them. Moriah had only been fifteen when her parents sent her to spend the summer with the Robertses while they traveled overseas to attend to business Harold Brockheim had.
During that summer, Annalee Roberts had nearly broken the young girl—terrified her to the point that, once her parents returned, she never spoke of it. And she had never forgotten it.
They hadn't raped her; and to this day, Jaci didn't know what had stopped them. But they had tormented her. Tortured her. They spanked her for the slightest infraction. They humiliated her, broke her confidence down. Threatened her and her parents, allowed her to see things she should never have seen and hear things that marked her, where her own sexuality was concerned.
The weeks she and Jaci had spent in her parent's Colorado cabin had been enlightening for her, as well as for Jaci. She was the only person Jaci had ever revealed the truth to, and Jaci knew Moriah would never reveal those secrets.
Now they were both determined to make their stand. The younger woman was the only true ally Jaci had. She would be the only person who could help her when that particular showdown came.
As she moved back into the ballroom, she came to a slow stop just within the wide double doors that had been thrown back to open the buffet room into the ballroom.
She could feel Cam. He was there, his gaze sliding over her, touching her.
She was wearing the dress he had bought her, the shoes, the panties, and the stockings, and she could feel him claiming ownership of her.
A second later, her gaze was drawn across the room; it locked with his, and she could have sworn the ballroom receded as she stared back at him. There was only the two of them.
How interesting. She had heard of the phenomena, had heard others speak of it. How the world and their vision narrowed down to one person, one event, one moment in time. And that was how it happened.
The scar at the side of his face was wicked white, indicating his anger. His expression was brooding, his thick black hair was pulled back to his nape, and the evening clothes did nothing to hide the powerful frame beneath.
He was a man in his prime—intent, dominant, and ready to take what belonged to him. Tonight, he would take her. She could feel it. The knowledge of it was rushing through her veins, heating her, sensitizing her, making her aware of all the ways she was a woman. And he was the man that would own her.
She had hoped to face this moment later—after she had dealt with the Robertses, after she had proven to herself that she wasn't weak, that she could fight them on their own turf.
The knowledge that she had run from the Robertses, when she was younger, had haunted her for five years. She had been weak, too weak to know what they were before they had struck, too weak to strike back. She wasn't weak anymore, she told herself. She had learned how to face the world.
But she hadn't learned how to handle Cam or the desires he caused to burn inside her. She hadn't learned how to handle the knowledge that, with very little effort on his part, she was going to love him with an intensity that had the power to destroy her. From the moment she had seen him, when she had been no more than a young teen, something within her had known he was important to her. And that hadn't changed.
The Robertses had been an excuse, when it came to her forming no intimate attachments. In a blinding moment of insight, she saw that now. She had refused to go to Cam, so she had needed an excuse, a reason not to allow another man to touch her, to take
her. Because she couldn't forget him. She couldn't get him out of her mind or her heart, and every man she had met she compared to him, and they had fallen far short of the mark.
How immature she had been, she thought, as he began to move across the room. How stupid. How much time she had wasted coming to him. Because she was frightened. Because she knew she would have to face parts of herself that she wasn't certain she wanted to face. Parts of herself that she knew Cam would force her to face now.
Dealing with the Robertses, as well as what she knew would develop between her and Cam, was going to require some careful stepping. Cam wasn't the type of man who would let her handle it on her own if he knew what was going on. She would have to watch herself, but even more, she would have to keep a closer eye on what the Robertses were doing.
She had worked for five years to gain the power to face them on their own turf. All she needed now was the setup. Moriah would help provide that, but it would take time. And with Cam around, time wasn't something she would have a lot of.
She stood her ground now, took a slow, deep breath, and let her smile touch her lips as Cam stopped within a breath of her.
His gaze raked over her, the force of it stroking the flames inside her hotter, higher.
"Good evening, Cam," she greeted him softly, aware of those around them watching them curiously.
His gaze slid over her breasts then to her eyes. "Are you having fun?" he asked her, the gentleness of his voice sending a flashpoint of warning up her spine.
"Actually, I am." She tightened her fingers on the small evening clutch she held. Nerves jangled through her system, primitive awareness screamed through her mind. "Are you?"
He leaned closer, a dark smile curling his lips. "Not yet. But I will be before the night's over."
"Ms. Wright. Hello there, Cam. Good to see you here."
The spell that had woven around them dissipated at the sound of the booming voice at their side.
Cam eased back, while Jaci flinched, turning to the couple that stood to their side.
She recognized them: Brian and Lenore Zimmer. Brian was tall and balding, his brown hair cut conservatively at the back and sides, the top shining unashamedly. Brian and his wife were lawyers for one of the larger firms in Alexandria. They were upper crust, blue blood, and Lenore had roomed with Annalee in college.
"Hello Brian, Lenore." Cam moved to her side, his hand landing at her lower back, a move that proclaimed his possessiveness as well as his protectiveness.
"Brian, Lenore." Jaci kept her smile even, polite.
"Moriah says you did a wonderful job with her parent's cabin," Lenore said, her cultured voice smooth and perfectly pitched. "Brian and I were interested in discussing a project with you, once you've completed the Sinclair mansion."
Interesting.
The Zimmers were easily as powerful as the Robertses within the Alexandria-D.C. area, and if they weren't, then Brian Zimmer's father definitely was.
"I'd be happy to talk to you about it, Lenore," Jaci answered, and she opened her purse and withdrew a business card. "Contact me whenever you have a chance, and we'll set up a time to talk."
Lenore's aristocratic features relaxed marginally and her smile became less polite and a bit warmer.
"Courtney is raving about the designs you've shown her so far for the mansion," she said. "There was talk, though, that you had no intentions of lingering in Alexandria once you were finished with the Sinclair home."
"Really?" Jaci asked. "I haven't made any decisions regarding projects in the area, but I'm a businesswoman, Lenore, as I'm certain you understand. My plans often hinge on the projects available in an area."
She was aware of Cam and Brian Zimmer talking quietly at the side. Lenore's gaze flickered to her husband. She turned slightly, the shimmering blue-and-smoke shade of her evening gown darkening her gray eyes.
"I wanted to be certain to catch you before others could arrange your schedule for you." She lowered her head and glanced back at Jaci through lowered lashes. "I'm sure you're aware there are those who are eager to see you leave town as quickly as possible."
Jaci's brows arched curiously. "Some people will have to live with the inconvenience, then."
Lenore's lips twitched in amusement, before her expression smoothed once again.
"I look forward to discussing the project with you, then." Lenore nodded firmly, the sleek, dark hair feathering around her sharply defined face, as a smile curled at her lips. She turned back to her husband.
"Are you ready, Brian?"
He frowned, though his hazel-brown eyes gleamed with laughter. "But Lenore, she hasn't come on to me yet. Do we have to leave before she has the chance?"
Jaci froze, then blinked at Brian in shock, as Cam seemed to growl at her side.
"Brian, it's the wrong time for your jokes," Cam warned him.
"Hit him, Cam. He's only getting worse." Lenore was obviously hiding her laughter. "I can't take him out in public at all anymore."
"Brian, I catch you in the sparring ring again, and I'm going to hurt you," Cam warned him, though amusement lurked in his voice.
Jaci glanced up at him, saw the laughter lurking in his gaze, despite his cool expression.
"Hell, you two won't let me have any fun anymore." Brian shrugged his shoulders and flashed Jaci a subtle wink. "Maybe you can teach him how to enjoy life some."
"You're looking at the wrong girl," she told him. "I was hoping he could teach me how to have fun."
Cam tensed beside her, the obvious sexual vibes rising between them were thick enough to cut with a knife. She couldn't push Cam away, she couldn't push him back; that left distracting him. It wouldn't take long, she assured herself. She and Moriah would have things ready soon. She just had to push Richard and Annalee a little bit further. Just enough to make them stupid enough to contact her, to say the wrong thing. Just enough to set them up and neutralize them.
She glanced around the ballroom as Brian and Cam returned to a business discussion, her gaze meeting Annalee Roberts's.
Shoulder-length black hair framed her porcelain face and long, slender neck. Tonight she was dressed in a soft, cream-colored silk. Hell, she looked almost virginal. Her blue eyes were full of fury, though—
narrowed, glittering with rage, as her ruby-red lips thinned in displeasure.
She might be dressed in the color of almost-purity right now, but Jaci knew what she looked like in black leather and with a whip in her hand. The scar across Jaci's hip was evidence that the woman liked to use a whip and loved to leave lasting reminders of her sadism.
Jaci ignored the nerves in her stomach, let a smile touch her lips as she accepted a glass of champagne from the waiter and lifted it in a subtle toast to the other woman.
Then she turned back to Cam, deliberately assuring Annalee how little her anger meant.
Oh yes, she just needed to push her a little bit further.
12
"Would you like to tell me what the hell you were up to at the Brockheim party?"
Cam all but slammed the hotel room door closed hours later, as Jaci tossed her clutch onto the table just inside the room and turned to face both him and Chase.
Chase had been eerily silent during the drive from the party, his expression dark and closed, his eyes watching, tracking both Jaci and Cam's expressions constantly. He'd made Cam feel like a fucking bug under a microscope.
Until Cam looked at Jaci. When he did, he could see the defiance in her expression, but there was something more in her face that almost terrified him. As though the veil of calm indifference that had been there before had been stripped away by some unknown force. She faced him now, none of the shadows that had once hid her from him in place.
"I wasn't up to anything." She spread her arms out from her body, drawing attention to those luscious curves.
Cam gave her what she was after. He let his gaze flicker over that dark red dress, but he watched those i
ncredible eyes from the corner of his, just as he knew Chase was watching her, lusting for her. That defiance only fueled the desire. The desire was in turn fueled by the knowledge that she was his. His, by God, and she would not continue in whatever was up between her and the Robertses.
"You're up to something, all right," he grunted as he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and moved into the sitting room, aware of Chase crossing his arms over his chest and watching both of them carefully.
She watched them both warily. He could see her thinking, calculating her odds of blowing off his suspicions.
"You challenged Annalee at that party, Jaci. I'm not a fool. I saw that look you gave her."
And he wasn't the only one. Brian Zimmer had seen it, and he had been concerned. As one of the club's legal advisors, Brian had been keeping up with the investigation into the Robertses' vendetta against Jaci, as well as the reports that were still coming in on Jaci herself.
She had met a lot of people over the years; there had to have been someone she had revealed the truth to.
A friend, a lover they hadn't yet found, someone she had talked to in a moment of weakness.
It wasn't Courtney, which surprised Cam. Jaci was closer to Courtney than she had been to her girlhood friends in Oklahoma.
"Annalee was trying to have me thrown out of the party." She kicked her shoes off, revealing the smoky silk hose that covered her toes. "I was merely acknowledging the fact that I had won this round, nothing more. Margaret and Harold Brockheim weren't about to throw me out. It wouldn't be acceptable, after inviting me to begin with."
That was true enough. "Didn't you do some designs for them a few years back?" Chase asked.
She smiled. "A cabin in Colorado. They weren't there. I don't think Margaret trusted me around her husband. I'm a home-wrecker, remember?"
Cam's teeth ground together at the mocking retort. Damn her, he didn't need a reminder of the damage the Robertses had tried to cause her. He was ready to kill them, as it was.