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“I’m guessing we can’t swing by the club after this,” Thatcher asked as we walked up the front steps to Jameson Chester’s house.
I shook my head without even glancing over at him. Thirsty was his favorite strip club in Atlanta. Sure, I appreciated his backup with this situation, but I wasn’t going to a damn titty bar, and he knew that. I wanted this done so I could get back to Briar and let her know this was over.
Reaching out, I rang the bell, then crossed my hands over my chest and waited. Sol Mercer’s Jaguar was parked out front. Clearly, she had never found out about Jameson’s … fuck, I didn’t want to even think about that. The idea that this bastard had touched Briar made me feel ballistic. I’d been sure to park the Escalade right beside the Jaguar. If Sol Mercer was here, then this would be over even faster. Jameson did not want his heiress fiancée to know he’d had an affair and started tracking Briar.
The door opened, and a lady with a tight bun on her head, dressed in a black dress with a white apron, greeted us.
How very proper of you, Jameson. You have your maid in a uniform. I wanted to roll my eyes.
“We’re here to see Jameson,” I informed her with a tilt of my cowboy hat as I stepped inside the house, not waiting for her to invite us inside.
She jumped back out of my way, looking flustered.
“I, uh … Mr. Chester is in a meeting,” she replied nervously.
“He’ll see us,” Thatcher told her, following me inside. “Be a sweetheart and lead the way to his office.”
Her eyes darted back and forth between the both of us as she twisted the front of her apron in her hands. “I don’t think—”
“You shouldn’t think,” Thatcher told her.
“Just take us to him,” I demanded.
When her gaze shot to the left toward a hallway, I knew that was the direction, but I wasn’t going to allow her to do something stupid, like call the police.
“Listen, Ms. …” I waited for her to give me a name.
“Abilene,” she whispered.
“Ms. Abilene, we came to see Jameson, and we don’t want to make this messy. You don’t want that either, I am sure. So, if you’ll kindly take us to him, we will have a little chat, then be on our way. It’s really simple.”
She nodded with wide eyes, then turned and headed in the direction she’d looked. We walked through the house, and I scanned for cameras as we followed the middle-aged maid. The place was pretentious and predictable. I doubted the artwork was all original. There was no way he had that kind of money on his walls with the financial strap he was currently in.
The expansive room with white furniture and red-brick flooring we entered had two large open doors that led outside. I saw the pool first and then the two people stretched out on a wide lounger. Thankfully, they were clothed, and I didn’t have to witness them fucking. I didn’t want to see Jameson’s white ass. The cast on his leg from the beating he’d taken from Thatcher was gone. I wondered if his ribs were still bothering him. I hoped so. The scar on his neck was red and puckered from where Thatcher had run his knife, hard enough to draw blood.
“Well, isn’t this pleasant?” Thatcher drawled.
Ms. Abilene stepped aside like she was going to leave us out there, and I reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“You’ll be staying right here,” I replied with a tight smile.
The woman looked ready to cry, and I did feel a little guilty over that. This wasn’t her fault. I’d send her a nice fruit basket later.
We were almost to the couple, oiled up and lying back in the sunshine, before Jameson opened his eyes and noticed us. The shocked expression was quickly replaced with fear as he shot up, his eyes shifting from Thatcher to me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chester,” Abilene stammered.
“No need to apologize. You had no choice, and Jameson knows that,” I assured her.
“What are you doing in my house?” Jameson asked defensively.
“Ah, come on, Jameson. You know why we are here. Don’t act as stupid as you look,” Thatcher said in a bored tone.
“I settled up with Stellan,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll call him.”
“Don’t touch your phone if you want to keep your fingers,” I warned.
“What the hell, Jameson?!” Sol shouted angrily. “Daddy paid them off. What have you done now? Please tell me you didn’t borrow from them again.”
I barely glanced back at the olive-skinned brunette. She might as well be topless with the bathing suit she was wearing.
“I didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on me now.
“Then, why are they here?” she snapped angrily, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her.
