Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,109
try on one dress.”
“That’s my girl.” Her mother patted her hand.
As Rachel made her way across the thick white carpet to the dress rack, Samantha stepped from the changing area. The dress fit like a glove and was perfect on her.
“You look stunning.” Her mother was awestruck.
Samantha twirled. “Isn’t it glorious?”
“You should buy it.” Rachel was completely serious. “I doubt you’ll find another dress that needs so few alterations and suits you as well as that one does.”
Sam brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and gave Rachel a wide-eyed, innocent look that instantly aroused her suspicions. “Do you know what would set it off beautifully? The Talbot locket.”
Rachel’s hand went to the place on her throat where the locket should have been. The locket Sam had been trying to get her grubby little hands on since they were children. The one Rachel hadn’t seen since she’d scratched it from her throat. “You never know, Sam, one of these days, I might cave and give it to you.” But then she’d just have to look at it around Sam’s neck instead of her own, and the memories it evoked would still be the same. No, it was better off in Benson Security’s safe. One day, she’d deal with it, but not today.
“Yay,” Sam said. “I always knew you’d come around.” She smiled as she posed for the mirrors. “I do look wonderful in this. I might just get it to wear out dancing.”
“But it’s a wedding dress.” Her mother sounded outraged. “You can’t wear a wedding dress to a nightclub. The press will have a field day.”
Samantha shrugged. “No, they won’t. They’ll think I’m being fashion-forward or something.”
“I’m starving,” Harvard called through to them. “How much longer are we going to be? Should I order pizza?”
The three women looked around at all the white dresses and, as one, they shouted, “No.”
There was a groan before Harvard spoke again. “Rachel, I need a word.”
“Not too long,” her mother said. “The designer will be here any moment to go over what you want.”
“Oh, goody,” Rachel said as she stepped through the curtain, where she found Harvard standing and looking serious. “What’s wrong?”
“Elle thinks she’s found something.” He ran a hand over his smoothly shaven head, and even though her stomach roiled at the thought of what Elle might have found, she still found herself wondering again what he’d look like if he grew his hair out.
“Did she say what?”
He shook his head. “She wants to talk in person.”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “If I run out on this, I won’t need to worry about what the blackmailer might do next; Mother and Sam will kill me. You go see what she wants and call if you need me.”
His wide hand clasped her neck. “I don’t like leaving you alone. I’ll call Ryan.”
“Oh, please, no. Sam would either seduce him in the dressing room, or he’d get food on the dresses, or I’d beat him to death with my shoe. Or maybe my gun.”
His lips quirked as his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Beat him with the gun? You know it shoots bullets, right?”
“It was brought to my attention yesterday that I might have some issues actually hitting a target.”
“Rachel,” he purred her name, his eyes heating, “we really need to deal with this violent streak of yours.”
“But not today. Now go. I’ll be fine. Once we’re finished here, I’ll take a cab back to my place or over to Benson Security if I’m needed. In the meantime, I have Mother and Samantha to protect me.” She almost managed to stop from rolling her eyes at the thought of how useful either of them would be in a crisis.
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed the life out of her, leaving her dizzy and swaying in place while he sauntered out of the boutique.
“Rachel,” her mother called, “you’d better not have left.”
With a sigh, she returned to the fitting room.
Chapter Thirty-One
“We found a shadow of information in the metadata files of the thumb drive itself,” Elle told Harvard once he was in the IT room at Benson Security. “Whoever deleted the metadata attached to the video forgot to write over the space in the trash area to wipe it out entirely.”
“Or,” Harry said, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, “they didn’t know enough to clear out the trash storage area too.”
With a nod of thanks, Harvard took the coffee Joe offered him. “What’ve we got?”