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Glancing around the tiny, rough room, her eyes scanned the haphazard mix of maid and server uniforms hanging on wood pegs that lined one wall. Below was a bench and under that, a row of rubber boots. She rushed to the bench, sitting and sliding off her heels and pulling on the cold, thick boots.
Jackal’s message had freaked her out until she’d forced him to explain the “situation.”
I think Montgomery’s here, Jackal had replied.
Her sense of unease had loosened. Montgomery was Hartley’s soon-to-be ex-husband. While Hartley thought he was the biggest dick on two continents, Nita had always thought he was a rational, cool-headed guy. And likely not wanting to get a divorce, despite the rumors she’d heard about him fucking one of Hartley’s college frenemies. Although if Nita was guessing, Hartley probably had a lot of frenemies.
She stood up and looked further, relieved to find a heavy coat. She snatched it off the peg and shrugged it on, the stiff, waxed material rough against her thin clothes. It might not do well for warmth, but it would definitely keep her dry. Its awkward weight added a bit of emotional comfort, too, giving her the feeling of wearing armor.
Her phone buzzed, and she dug under the stiff coat to pull it out.
I lost him,Jackal texted.If he’s here, does that mean Hartley’s on property?
No, Hartley is still out of the country, she typed.Where did you see Montgomery?
As she waited for his response, her thoughts wandered back to being on the mezzanine. She’d come dangerously close to admitting her feelings face-to-face with Ryder. Jackal’s text had been like a reprieve. But now another thought occurred to her—should she should bring Ryder into the loop on this?
She pondered her options. Ryder’s primary duty was to keep their high-profile clients safe until the engagement was over and everyone was off the property. Letting him know about Montgomery, in the middle of Mags’s engagement, seemed like an unnecessary distraction. If it had been Rogue or Lawrence that Jackal had seen, though, that would be a different story.
No, better not to involve him. At least not yet.
Stepping outside once more, huddled in the tiny overhang that protected her from the steady shower of rain, her phone buzzed.
He was outside the fence line directly behind the compound,Jackal texted.
Are you there now?she typed.
No, I’m on the opposite side of the property,he answered.
Opposite side?she wondered.
Did you follow him there?she asked.
No, I thought he was going there and took a shortcut to head him off. No luck, Jackal replied.He must be back by the compound, maybe checking for fence breaches? I don’t know.
Nita paused, a gust of wind blowing a spray of rain into her face. She pulled up the too-large hood and turned to face away from the night.
I’m not sure what you need me to doshe replied.
I’ll keep looking, but if we both looked, it would help. I want to let him know about Rogue and Lawrence, and with you there, he might listen,he replied.
That made her quirk her lips. Montgomery was cool-headed, but since Hartley fired Jackal, she was pretty sure Montgomery wouldn’t trust the man on his own.
Got it. I’ll head over there now. Might take a bit in the dark and rain,she typed.
No problem. I’ll meet you.
She turned back to face the rain-soaked night. All the golf carts were parked in range of a security camera, and the last thing she wanted to do was distract the security team from Mags’s engagement. Not for simply finding and talking to Montgomery. Besides, she trusted her gut. If it wrenched crazily, she had her phone and could call for help.
She stepped into the full rain, jogging to the left as she crossed the pavement to the hedge that was closest to the house. She knew there was a security camera at the front corner, about a hundred yards away, but her dark coat and the black night should keep her hidden.
The raindrops beat against the heavy coat as she ran to the hedge. The boots lurched, making her gait awkward. She pushed through the hedge, then tromped through a sort of no-man's-land of uneven ground to another hedge.
Her boots slipped on wet grass as the uneven field gave way to the hard-packed ground of the Roman Palace’s olive grove. The rain had made the dirt even more slippery, and she had to slow her pace as she wove through the trees.
At the edge of the grove, she walked onto the gravel service road. She took a left, loping towards the back of the building.
While they called it the palace, it actually look more like a roman temple. Wide steps led up to a portico of Corinthian columns that supported a triangular pediment. It wasn’t as spacious or luxurious as the other properties, but it definitely transported her to ancient times.
