Grace huffed ever so softly, then said, "Let me show you to your room."
Jed got the distinct impression that Miss Grace didn't approve of him. Good. Let's keep it that way, he decided. If she found him a bit rough around the edges, if she didn't like him, it would be easier for them to maintain the distance necessary for their professional relationship.
Grace Beaumont was about as luscious a lady as he'd come across in many a year. She was like a ripe peach hanging precariously on a limb, ready to be picked. And if there weren't a hundred and one good reasons for him to keep his distance, he'd take a sweet, juicy bite out of her.
Rein in your libido , Jed cautioned himself. The last thing he needed while on this assignment was a love affair. Hell, everything was already complicated enough as it was.
Chapter 4
Elsa met her brother at the back door, catching him as he tried to sneak into the house. She'd been up all night, worried sick, half out of her mind, because he hadn't come home or called. Her greatest fear was that he was back on drugs. He'd been doing great lately, ever since going through rehab his senior year in high school and enrolling this past fall at St. Camille Community College. Troy wasn't a bad kid, just easily manipulated by others.
"Where the hell have you been?" Elsa studied her nineteen-year-old brother, looking for any signs that he might be high. Although he looked a bit scruffy and needed a shave, he seemed to be sober.
"Who are you, the police?" Troy asked defensively.
"I'm the woman who has been a mother to you since you were a kid, that's who I am. I'm the sister who put her own life on hold to make sure you and Sherrie and Milly had food in your bellies and clothes on your back. I'm the person who worries about you."
Troy shrugged his slender shoulders. Built like their dad, her brother was tall and lanky, almost skinny. He wore his dark hair shoulder-length and had his ears, his nose and his tongue pierced.
When he tried to sidestep her, Elsa grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her. "Where were you all night long?"
He jerked free and glared at her. "I'm nineteen frigging years old. I don't have to report in to you. Haven't you figured that out yet?"
Elsa inhaled deeply, then released her breath as she counted to ten. "I thought we had a deal, one you've lived up to for nearly a year now. I pay the bills and you go to school and keep your nose clean. Has something happened to change that?"
With his back to her, he shook his head. "Nah, not really. Not yet. It's just… well… I got a part-time job and I got a girl."
"Are you saying you were working last night or are you telling me you stayed over at some girl's place all night?"
Troy glanced over his shoulder sheepishly. "Both actually. The job's in a warehouse down at the waterfront. My new girlfriend picked me up afterward and I spent the night with her."
"I see. You could have called, you know." Why didn't his explanation relieve her worries? she wondered. Maybe because it was too little information, too late. "When did you get the job? How long have you been working? How'd you meet this girl? Who is she?"
"Damn, what is this, the Spanish inquisition?"
"Look, Troy, I was up all night. I called every friend of yours I could think of. I checked with the hospital and even with the police to see if you'd been in an accident. I had to call in at work this morning to let them know I'd be late because I didn't know what had happened to you."
"Hey, I'm sorry, okay." Troy sucked his cheeks in as if trying to curb his explosive temper. "I'm not back on the hard stuff. I swear. I drink a few beers now and then and that's it."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Elsa waited, expecting a reply to her questions.
"I met Josie at school this quarter. She's taking a secretarial course. She shares a place with a friend and works at the diner over on Fifth Street." Troy glanced down at the floor. "And before you ask, yes, I'm being careful. We… uh… I always use a condom."
Elsa let out a loud, exasperated breath, closed her eyes and prayed for patience. And while she was at it, she prayed that Troy was telling her the truth. All she needed at this point in her life was her brother knocking up some girl and her winding up having to raise the baby.
"What's the name of the place where you're working?"
"It's just a warehouse. I'm not sure about the name. I help load and unload crates off trucks and boats. The guy pays me in cash. It's good money for a few hours work."
Elsa didn't like the sound of it. "What's in the crates you're helping load and unload?"
"How should I know?"
"Drugs?"
"Hell, Elsa, get off my back. I said I don't know what's in the crates… and I don't care. Josie told me that a guy she knew had a good paying part-time job, so I applied for the position and got it. I thought you'd be pleased. Aren't you the one who's always griping about money?"
"What's the guy's name?"
"What guy?"
"Your boss?"
"Curt Poarch."
"What if I want to talk to this Mr. Poarch, how do I get in touch with him?"
"No way." Troy 's face flushed; his body language became hostile. "Stay out of my business."
Before she could say another word, Troy stormed out of the kitchen. Elsa followed him down the hall and into his bedroom. She stood in the doorway and watched while he stuffed a knapsack full with his underwear and clothes.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm moving out, that's what I'm doing. I'll take what I can this morning and I'll come back for my other stuff later-after you've left for work."
"Where will you live?"
"Josie will put me up for a few days until I find a place of my own." He grinned mockingly. "Who knows, maybe we'll get a place together. Split expenses."
"This man-Curt Poarch-must be paying you pretty good if you think you can rent your own place, keep up your truck payments, pay for your schooling-"
"I'm outta here." Troy hoisted his canvas knapsack over his shoulder and all but shoved Elsa out of the way as he moved past her.
" Troy." She raced down the hall after him. By the time she caught up with him, he was outside, dumping his knapsack in the cab of his older model Ford pickup.
"Think about what you're doing," Elsa said, as he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door. "What if the guy you're working for is doing something illegal? Is it worth that kind of risk just to make some fast, easy money?"
He cranked the engine, shifted the gears into Reverse, and said, "It's a hell of a lot better than working for pittance the way you do at a job where you have to lick Ms. Rich Bitch Beaumont's fancy high heels every day." With that said, he backed out of the driveway and sped onto the road.
Elsa heaved her shoulders as she sighed heavily. God in heaven, where had she gone wrong? Hadn't she done everything in her power to help Troy, just as she had Sherrie and Milly?
For the time being there wasn't much she could do, short of praying. If Troy needed her, he knew where to find her. In the meantime, she had herself and Milly to support.
Elsa checked her watch. If she left now, she would be only two hours late. That was two hours of pay she couldn't afford to miss and she didn't want to use a sick day because she saved those days in order to volunteer once a month at St. Camille Haven, the private boarding school where Milly lived during the week. It was a school for children with severe learning disabilities. For volunteering one day a month, they reduced Milly's tuition by a small amount.