Lex swallowed against the emotion burning his throat and took a seat on the couch opposite her. He was disturbed by the fierce power rising in his chest, the wave of protective compassion that threatened to overwhelm him when he touched her. Afraid of what was happening to him.
Geez, he even had little Groucho Marx eating cat food from a bowl in his kitchen. He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was almost 3:00 a.m. Neither of them had had any sleep.
“Why don’t you take my bed, Jenna, get some sleep, and then I can take you down to the station in the morning so we can file a full report.”
“Lex—”
“You need rest.”
“Would…could you…just hold me?”
He stared at her, pulse racing, Quinn’s words humming in his brain. We’ll plug it as a covert op, and the legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.
“Please?”
He got up, sat beside her on the sofa and put his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. His body warmed. Her skin was so smooth. She cuddled down into the cushions and leaned into him, closing her eyes. A small tremor shuddered through her, as if she was finally letting go of something she’d been bottling inside. He tentatively touched her hair with his fingers. It was soft. He stroked it gently with his palm, his heart swelling painfully in his chest with a sensation alien to him. His eyes began to burn.
They sat like that for a long while, in silence. Groucho came in from the kitchen, glowered up at Lex with his beady black eyes and evil little line of jutting-out teeth, then promptly curled himself at his feet. Lex snorted. He figured he’d just sunk to a new kind of low. Mostly because he really didn’t mind the dog sleeping at his feet. He was kinda cute, in his ugliness.
“I…I need to tell you something, Lex,” Jenna whispered against his chest. “About my father.”
Lex tensed slightly at the tone in her voice. “What about him?”
She sat up, nervously pushing a thick tangle of hair back from her face. “He…he’s…” she got to her feet suddenly, began to pace, eyes filling with moisture.
Apprehension deepened. “Jenna, what is it?”
She stilled, faced him square. “He got five more death threats against our family.”
Lex took a second to process. “When?”
“Over the past few months. He didn’t tell the police.”
“Why the hell not?”
“He doesn’t think they’re important. But I…I think whoever left those notes tried to kill me tonight.”
Rage began to vibrate dangerously in Lex. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Jenna?” he said as calmly, quietly as he could. “This is absolutely relevant to what happened to you tonight.”
“I am telling you. Now.”
“What do these notes say?” Pressure built inside him like a cooker.
She exhaled shakily. “Have you got something stronger than tea?”
He got up, poured her a Scotch, handed it to her. She took a deep sip and exhaled slowly. “Whoever sent the notes is threatening to take out the ‘Rothchild trash’ one at a time, after Candace. All of the notes alluded to some historic deed that needed to be atoned for, and all mentioned The Tears of the Quetzal. The last one was signed The Avenger.”
“How do you know which was the last one? Were they dated?”
She nodded. “And made up of letters cut from magazines and newspapers, not like the first one that came right after Candace was killed.” She took another slug of her drink, her eyes watering and nose going pink as it went down. “Dad said they were just some hoax, someone trying to get in on the Rothchild media hype after Candace’s death. He said Rebecca Lynn could even have left them, seeking attention. But I think that whatever is going down is tied to that diamond and something that happened a long time ago, maybe even in South America.”
Cool anger directed at Harold Rothchild arrowed through Lex. The bastard had put his entire family in jeopardy by not reporting those death threats, by not coming clean on the provenance of the ring. Because now, more than ever, Lex was certain Harold knew exactly where that cursed stone had come from. By not putting all his cards on the table, Harold Rothchild had left law enforcement chasing shadows, possibly costing months in lost time hunting down a killer. He reached for his phone. “I need a warrant,” he said, crisply. “I need those notes. And I want to see what else he’s hiding.”
Panic shot across Jenna’s face. She grabbed his arm. “Lex—wait!”
“What for?”
She couldn’t speak for a moment and looked terrified.