Page 17 of Hidden With You

ChapterSeven

Ahard rage ripped through Jasper as he clutched the threat—now sealed in a clear plastic envelope—tight in his hand. He felt like a spring, ready to lash out and pummel whoever had sent the vile note. But since that wasn’t possible, he paced the short distance from one side of Zelda Clayton’s living area to the other, trying without success to burn off some of his fury.

When Ryan first told them where they were going, Jasper hadn’t been sure if the assignment would be a nightmare or a dream.

Then Ryan had filled him in on the threatening note. After that, there was no way to categorize this clusterfuck as anything other than a nightmare.

“This is Jasper Kent,” Ryan had said when they’d first arrived, and in that moment, Jasper knew that he should have had at least another hour to prepare. Ten would have been better. Because there was something about this woman. Something that shifted him just a little off-kilter. And damned if he hadn’t felt happy—fucking happy—to be there, even though the only reason he was seeing her again was that someone had threatened her life.

God, he was a prick.

Apparently she hadn’t clued into the full extent of his asshole tendencies, because she’d reached out and taken his hand, hers soft against his calloused palm. “Nice to put a name to the face.”

“You two met at the party?” Ryan asked.

“We chatted briefly,” she said, then offered him a winning smile. “I’d hoped for more, but you know how parties are. I’m so glad to see you now, Mr. Kent. I feel much safer with you—both of you—here.”

“Call me Jasper, please. Mr. Kent makes me sound like my father.” He said the words firmly, wanting to remind himself why he’d walked away.

“All right,” she said. “Call me Zelda.”

He nodded, thankful for the way she was dressed. Sweatpants and a tee—nothing provocative in the least. And her hair hung in two braids over her ears. The style accentuated her eyes, wide mouth, and the smattering of adorable freckles on her nose. The style also made her look about sixteen. Which was just fine, he told himself. He wanted all the reminders he could get of the gap in their ages. Because thinking about that was a hell of a lot better than recalling last night’s dream.

He cleared his throat, then held up the note. The side with the target and the word DEAD was facing him, and an icy fury formed in his veins. “Tell us again how you got this,” he said, working to keep his voice level and businesslike as he faced Zelda. He shot a quick glance toward Ryan, checking to make sure his boss was genuinely cool with Jasper jumping into the thick of it.

On their way over, Ryan had said that he wanted Jasper to take point. “A way for me to get to know your personality in the field with a client.” And wasn’t it just Jasper’s luck that the first client out of the gate was the only woman in years who had truly managed to get under his skin.

“It was in the mail,” Zelda began, explaining how she’d come in to find the mail on her table.

You.

The words from the threat echoed in his head under Zelda’s words.

“There wasn’t postage, but I didn’t think anything of that. Honestly, I’m not even sure I noticed until I saw the note and looked for a return address.”

Dead.

How the hell had someone so easily maneuvered this threat into her home? How was that possible on this huge compound in one of the most expensive and presumably well-protected gated communities in all of the Los Angeles area?

Soon.

He was still trying to wrap his head around the reality of where and how Zelda lived, but he was having a hell of a time. It shouldn’t be this hard. He wasn’t awed by generational wealth or by the trappings of royalty. He’d visited much richer and more luxurious estates. But this private, new money home was palatial, and she didn’t even live in the main house. Instead, it sat empty while she lived in a tiny guest cottage.

The whole situation was odd, and he wanted to unravel the mystery of where she chose to live and sleep as much as the question of who sent the note.

And he wanted to keep Zelda close while doing both.

She was still by the sofa, and he took a step toward her, then paused. He didn’t want to get too close. Didn’t want to risk her or Ryan seeing his thoughts. He might have walked away last night because she was too damn young, but apparently his subconscious was undeterred. His thoughts had stayed on her, only to surface last night in sensual dreams in which he’d touched her, tasted her, filled her. He’d awakened with a rock-hard cock and the taste of her pussy on his lips and—

“—come?”

“What? Sorry?” He jolted back to reality, his entire body on edge, both from the memory and the fear that any part of it had shown on his face. Or anywhere.

“I said that Tricia’s back from the grocery store. I can go ask her about the envelope, and did you want to come?” Her face didn’t change. Not really. But he was certain he saw laughter in her eyes.

He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, stalling as he gathered his thoughts. “I’ll want to talk to her, but presumably it was left in the mailbox or at the main gate into the subdivision. So I’ll need to talk to the guard there, too. And look at your security feed. I presume you have cameras at the gate entrances to your property? How big is this place, anyway?”

“Yes to the cameras. And the cottage is only eleven hundred square feet. But the house is twelve thousand. Well, closer to thirteen, but I round down. I mean, the place is freaking huge,” she continued, her tone managing to be both cavalier and awed, and he liked her all the more for it.