the twisted wreckage of his life.
Marissa slept better knowing Kit and Griffin were in her guest bedroom, but Jack sleeping in her living room felt odd. He had insisted on being in a location between the front and back doors to keep an eye on the house and who came and went even though he would have been more comfortable in her other guest bedroom.
After checking the doors and windows on the main floor, Jack had sat on the couch. His laptop was open in front of him, but it seemed to interest him only slightly. He hadn’t stared at her. He hadn’t looked at her. Marissa simultaneously liked that and found it irritating. Men often paid attention to her and she was curious why Jack seemed uninterested.
Before she had gone to bed, she had offered him a drink. He had declined.
Marissa rolled over, adjusting her pillow to get more comfortable.
It wasn’t just thoughts of Jack keeping her awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she thought of Avery, picturing the last words they had spoken to each other, wishing she could have talked to Avery about what had happened with Rob. Deep sadness and grief cut through her and regret followed close on its heels.
The police would find evidence at the scene and Avery’s attacker would be found. Pictures taken backstage had to have captured something. Marissa flipped her pillow to the cooler side. She tried breathing exercises to slow her heart rate and induce a state of relaxation. Usually, she slept fantastically in her house. She traveled more than half the year and sleeping in her bed was a luxury. Tonight, sleep was elusive.
Her phone buzzed. She looked at the display. It was a message from Ambrose. You awake?
She typed a reply. Yes.
I am sorry about Avery. You were friends for a long time.
She and Avery had been close. Marissa should have worked harder to repair the relationship. Rob wasn’t worth the loss of a friend. When they hadn’t been on speaking terms, she had told herself she was fine. But it had hurt. Though Marissa had been through two heart-wrenching divorces, Avery’s friendship had been the one solid relationship she’d had. How are you?
In shock. Can’t imagine not seeing her again.
Her chest felt tight. This couldn’t be fixed. That acknowledgment devastated her all over again.
Marissa heard a creak outside her door and she tensed. Kit or Griffin might be checking on her. Or was Jack patrolling her town house for security issues? Several seconds of silence passed.
She heard another creak.
I have to go. Talk soon. She sent the message and squeezed her eyes closed. The noises were the house settling. She was safe.
Marissa felt a hand on her arm. She opened her eyes and came face-to-face with a man she didn’t recognize.
Before she could scream, he clamped his hand over her mouth, pushing her back into her pillow, pressing her hard into the mattress. Her heart thundered and she tried not to panic. Pushing at his hand, she couldn’t get his weight off her. He would suffocate her!
The door to her bedroom slammed open, light from the hallway spearing inside, and Jack launched himself at her assailant. The relief of his heaviness being tossed from her consumed her.
Marissa scrambled to move away, her sheets tangling around her. She screamed out to Kit, a warning in the case the assailant wasn’t working alone.
Griffin barreled into the room.
“One assailant. He’s down,” Jack said.
Griffin turned on the lights just as her sister appeared in the doorway.
On the floor at Jack’s feet was her assailant, and he wasn’t moving. Was this the man who had killed Avery? He had close-cropped black hair, a small nose and thin lips. He wore all black from his turtleneck to his sneakers. He didn’t look familiar.
Marissa’s heart was racing and she felt dizzy. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Jack said. “Maybe he can tell us why he’s here and what this has to do with Avery.”
“Breathe slower or you’ll pass out,” Kit said, setting her hand on Marissa’s back.
Marissa had been taking short puffs of air, but she finally inhaled deeply and focused again on the man on the floor in her bedroom. “I don’t know him.”
“An assassin?” Jack asked.
Griffin nodded once swiftly, agreeing with Jack.
Marissa looked between the three of them. “He was sent to kill me? How do you know?”
“Instinct,” Jack said.
Kit’s eyes were narrowed with concern. “It will be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out.”
Marissa looked at Jack. “Guess you won’t be booking a flight out.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m settling in for the duration.”
* * *
Jack didn’t follow gossip columns, but he had read up on Marissa on the flight to New York. He wouldn’t call watching over Marissa a mission. Though the intruder tonight had established Kit was correct in believing there was a real threat against Marissa, if Avery’s killer was the same man who attacked Marissa in her home, they could wrap this up, get the answers they needed, and Jack could be home by morning.
Jack didn’t know what to make of Marissa. Gorgeous, obviously, but she wasn’t arrogant about it. She was confident. He didn’t know how many women would be comfortable in a thin-strapped tank top and white silk pants while talking to strangers. The police had arrived at her home and had arrested her attacker. It was the second time in twenty-four hours that Marissa was making a statement to the police. The one upside to the assailant attempting to kill her was that she was no longer the prime suspect in Avery’s murder.
Marissa was talking with one of the officers on the scene. She spoke with her hands, her movements and face expressive.
Marissa was every bit as beautiful in person as she was in photos and magazines. Hard not to picture her wearing a swimsuit or lingerie like she did in her ads. Those were hard to ignore. They emphasized her best features: her face, her long hair, her curvy, toned body.
Jack had expected for this project to involve drama, mostly that of her making, but that wasn’t the case. The perpetrator had been arrested and they might be in the clear. A short assignment was fine with him. It had been a good distraction from the problems with Bianca and his last mission.
After the police left, Jack, Kit, Griffin and Marissa assembled in the kitchen. Kit had prepared tea. Marissa had a huge kitchen with white cabinets and black shiny countertops. Her dining room was expansive with vaulted ceilings, three of the sides lined with windows and the fourth open to the kitchen. Jack circled the room, closing the roman shades. No point in giving a marksman a clear shot of Marissa. She watched him but didn’t question what he was doing.
Marissa
