If she did, she probably wouldn’t have to apologize, Nicole thought with amusement. She glanced back to the drawer as she set the second boot on the floor and smiled when she spotted the fedora that went with the costume at the back of the drawer. The fact that it was all here and that Rodolfo hadn’t tossed it seemed to her to be a sign that she should wear it. Not that she’d probably wear it long.
Gathering the costume’s bits, Nicole stood, retrieved a fresh pair of black panties from her top drawer, then carried everything out to the en suite bathroom. She managed to take a quick shower without getting her hair wet, thanks to a shower cap, and then she dusted herself with baby powder and slipped into the costume.
One look at herself in the mirror and Nicole nearly chickened out. Geez, the costume didn’t hide much, and she appeared to have a lot of flesh to show. She shifted briefly, torn, and then muttered “screw it,” straightened her shoulders, and headed out of her room.
Nicole spotted Jake disappearing into the kitchen as she opened her door, and was glad she hadn’t come out sooner. She would have felt stupid standing around in the kitchen waiting for him, and she definitely wouldn’t have wanted to search the house for him in case the twins or one of his other family members returned and caught her like this.
That thought made her realize that her original plan was not going to work here. She would have to walk into the kitchen, smile and then hurry back to the bedroom, hopefully, with him following. There was no way that straightening this outfit and offering an innocent smile would convince anyone she wasn’t up to anything. One look at her and they’d know what they’d been up to, or at least what she’d planned.
“Who are you?”
Nicole had been approaching the kitchen door, but paused before reaching it when she heard Jake ask that question.
It was quickly followed by, “Did Nicole let you in?”
“No.”
“Then how—” Jake cut himself off and said, “The sliding glass doors.”
“Yes. It was kind of you to leave them open for me.”
Nicole frowned at the tone of voice, it was mocking and amused.
Moving close to the wall, she eased the last few feet to the kitchen doorway and snuck a quick peak into the room. Jake was standing a couple of feet inside the kitchen, with his back to her. The other man sat at the kitchen table, lounging sideways to the door in one chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles on another. She could see that he wore jeans, and a leather bomber over a T-shirt. His body looked completely relaxed. She couldn’t say what his expression was, though, Jake’s body blocked his head from her view.
“It wasn’t for you,” Jake said grimly. “It was to air out the room.”
“Still,” the man said, and though Nicole couldn’t see him, she was pretty sure he was grinning as he added, “I appreciate it.”
Nicole eased back out of sight of the kitchen. She didn’t think the man could see her, but if Jake had moved just the smallest amount to the right he would have.
Shifting anxiously from foot to foot, she debated what to do. It seemed obvious to her that the man in the kitchen must be the one behind the hot-tub poisoning and the car accident. Nice, normal people simply didn’t saunter into just any open door in homes that weren’t theirs. What she didn’t understand was why Jake was asking questions instead of taking control of the man’s mind.
The obvious answer was that he couldn’t, and as far as she knew, that only happened with life mates or older immortals. Had an immortal been trying to kill her? And if so, why? For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even known about immortals until this last week, and was pretty sure she hadn’t met any besides Marguerite and this crew.
“Who are you?” Jake’s voice sounded grim.
“You asked that already,” the other man pointed out lightly.
Nicole turned and slid back along the wall to her room. She had to help Jake, but how? She glanced to the sliding doors in her room. They led out to the deck, which wrapped around the back of the house and up the side to the sliding doors in the kitchen. If the doors were still open—
Nicole started toward the doors, but then paused before stepping out. She needed a weapon. Turning, she glanced around the bedroom, looking for something hefty, but it was a bedroom, for heaven’s sake, not a weapons locker. Her gaze slid from the bed to the television to the couch. There was nothing she could see that would be useful. There weren’t even any lamps in the room; wall sconces were set into the walls on either side of the couch, as well as the bed, to remove the necessity of lamps.