Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

“I would never hurt you.” He paused as she shivered. “But I am keeping you,” he vowed.

Claire tripped at the words. Instead of curling up with a good book, she’d become the unwilling pet of a Neanderthal wannabe.

11

For the first time in his police career, Matt was pleased that Scotland didn’t issue its officers with firearms. He was pleased, because if he’d had a gun on him, he would have shot Bob the butcher. Not somewhere life threatening. Just in a place he didn’t use much. Like his brain.

“How about you go watch Jena from outside the house,” Bob said. “Sit in your car. I’ve got the inside of the house covered. Nothing will happen to her while I’m with her.” He leered at Jena. “Nothing she doesn’t want to happen, anyway.”

Matt folded his arms and leaned on the edge of the desk he’d commandeered in the living room area of Bob’s house. The whole bottom floor of the house was open plan, making it easy for Matt to keep an eye on the kitchen and dining area from the spot he’d picked. Jena was currently sitting on a high stool at the breakfast bar, her legs crossed, sipping a margarita. It was in the biggest glass Matt had ever seen. No, not a glass, a freaking goldfish bowl. There had to be a whole bottle of tequila in that one glass. From the looks of it, Bob had gone easy on the lime and heavy on the alcohol. Talk about an obvious attempt to get his date drunk.

“I’m fine here.” He used his official voice. The one that brooked no argument. “Just doing my job. Pretend I’m not here.” Yeah, he really hoped Bob wasn’t able to pull that off.

The guy looked ready to spit fireballs. “Give me a break here. Would you like a chaperone on your date?”

“I’m not a chaperone. Do what you like.” He pointed to his laptop. “I brought paperwork to keep me busy.”

Bob clenched his fists before making a clear effort to relax his shoulders. He flashed a wide, fake smile. “Whatever you want, Matt. You want to play the voyeur, then sit back and enjoy the show.” He winked. “You might learn something.”

He sauntered back to Jena, leaving Matt to mentally go through a list of offences to see if there was one he could charge the guy with. He came up empty.

Matt focused on the report on the screen in front of him. It was busywork. Irrelevant. Not that it mattered what he was working on. His complete attention was on the other side of the room. He heard Jena give a high-pitched, girly giggle that was obviously fake, and frowned at her. She made bug eyes in his direction. He almost smiled, and then Bob trailed a finger over Jena’s bare shoulder and Matt’s humour evaporated.

“Best steak in Scotland,” the moron was saying, “probably in the world.”

Jena seemed to cast around for something to say. “Did you, ah, cut it yourself?”

Bob puffed up his chest, acting like he’d invented the bloody wheel. “Sure did, sweetheart. The key to a great steak is in the cut. It isn’t the amount of meat, it’s the marbling that gives it the flavour…” Matt tuned Bob out as he waxed lyrical about the perfect steak.

He allowed himself a smug smile. Bob definitely wasn’t going to get a second date. Not if the glazed look on Jena’s face was anything to go by.

“You made the place really pretty, Bob,” Jena said, interrupting his lecture on the best ways to tenderise meat. “I love the candles.”

Bob stroked a hand down Jena’s hair, making Matt clench his jaw so hard it almost locked in place.

“Got to make an effort for a beautiful girl,” Bob said.

Pass the bucket—it was time to vomit.

Jena tittered again. Why couldn’t Bob tell her laugh was fake? And candles? Big deal. Anyone could light a few candles. Plus, what guy in his right mind bought chubby pink ones? Matt felt a little growl escape him. Jena cast him an angry glance. He scoffed at her. She glared at him before flashing a wide smile at Bob and picking up her bucket of tequila.

“Why don’t we sit outside for a little bit? It’s such a nice night.”

The smarmy smile Bob shot Matt made his fists clench. “Great idea, sweetheart.”

Matt stood, ready to follow.

“Stay,” Bob ordered.

Matt cocked an eyebrow. “Do I look like a poodle? I don’t think so.” Matt folded his arms. “Where she goes, I go.”

Jena stared at the ceiling. “For heaven’s sake…” She stomped towards him as best she could on her killer heels. The tub of tequila-heavy margarita sloshed around in her hand.

“You don’t need to follow us,” she whispered through another fake smile.

Her eyes were blazing. She was seriously cute when she was pissed, kind of like a hissing kitten.

“Yes, I do. I’m here to protect you.”