Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,51

fingers tighten on the edge of the sink. “You put killers behind bars, Tyler. You don’t belong there yourself. It’s not right.”

Tyler sighs. “Go pack a bag, Ian. We’re going away for the night.”

I turn to face him. “Where are we going?”

“Just pack what you’ll need overnight.”

“I thought you were under house arrest.”

“I have to stay at home during business hours, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go somewhere overnight. Don’t worry, we’ll be home before eight tomorrow morning.”

Tyler steers me toward the stairs and follows me up to our bedroom and into the closet. He grabs a large duffle bag off the floor and hands it to me. “Start packing. We’re getting out of here. I think a change of scenery will do us both good.”

“What should I bring?”

“Whatever you need for one night. For starters, how about lube and condoms?”

That certainly gets my attention. “Yeah?”

Tyler winks at me. “I’m pretty sure we’ll need those. And bring a pair of swim trunks.”

So we pack one overnight bag with just the basics—toiletries, swim trunks, and one change of clothes each, and of course condoms and lube—and at five o’clock, we lock up the townhouse and climb into Tyler’s BMW.

Tyler is driving, obviously, since I have no idea where we’re going.

“You won’t even give me a hint?” I ask as we head north on Lake Shore Drive.

Grinning, Tyler flexes his fingers on the steering wheel as he gets comfortable in his seat. “Nope. Sit back and relax, baby. Enjoy the scenery.”

It’s not long before we’ve left the city behind us and we’re in the suburbs.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” I say, laughing.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

When we pass a sign that says WELCOME TO KENNILWORTH, Tyler makes a turn and follows the road that leads up the shoreline.

“Kenilworth?” I’m vaguely familiar with the small, upscale town, but I’ve never actually been here before. The houses we pass are stately and picturesque, many of them with large, sweeping yards and ornate private gates.

Tyler slows the car and turns right onto an unmarked lane that takes us through some woods.

“Where are we?” I ask as I sit up straight.

“Shane owns an estate here, right on the lake.”

The lane eventually leads us to a secured gate. Tyler stops, lowers his window, and enters a passcode into an electronic keypad. The gate swings open, and we drive through. A few minutes later, we stop at a second gate.

I laugh. “Good grief, are we breaking into Fort Knox?”

“This place is about as secure as Fort Knox,” Tyler says as he lowers his window.

“Good evening, detective,” says a booming male voice over the intercom. “Welcome to Shangri-la.”

Tyler grins as he replies over the intercom. “Open the gate, Charlie. I know you’re expecting us.”

“What’s the password?” the mysterious voice asks.

“Charlie—” Tyler begins.

I lean toward the open window and say, “Open sesame?”

“That works,” says the disembodied voice.

The gate swings open, and Tyler drives through.

“What is this place?” I say.

“Shane’s high-profile clients stay here occasionally… celebrities, politicians, foreign dignitaries. The house has twenty-four-seven, on-site security.”

As we continue on, the trees give way to grass. We pass a pond on the left side of the road and a pasture on the right. There’s a small herd of horses grazing on a low hill.

As we come around a bend, an enormous two-story structure comes into view.

I peer out the window. “Niiice.”

Tyler pulls the car up to the front entrance and turns off the engine.

The front doors open and an older couple walks out. The man—tall and built solid—is dressed in a blue plaid flannel shirt, khaki overalls, and mud-splattered boots. His gray hair is buzzed short, and his face is heavily weathered and lined with wrinkles. The woman wears her long silver hair in a braid. She’s dressed in riding gear, complete with dusty brown riding pants and boots.

“That’s George Peterson and his wife, Elly,” Tyler says. “They manage the property. He’s the groundskeeper, and she runs the house.”

As we step out of the car, George and Elly come down the steps to greet us.

George offers his hand to Tyler. “Welcome, detective.”

Elly hugs Tyler fiercely. “Hello, Tyler. It’s so good to see you again.” And then she turns to me with a curious smile and opens her arms wide. “You must be Ian.”

After giving me a bear hug, she says, “Come inside, you two. George will take your bag up to your suite. Dinner’s almost ready. It’s such a nice evening, I thought you’d enjoy