Back In The Bedroom (The Wrong Bed #29)(40)

She already had her hand on the handle of the door. “What’s the matter?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Eddie had stopped talking, which was worrisome. “But given my father and his life, it could be anything.” He pulled a gun from the glove box and glanced at Tessa when she gasped. He tucked the gun in the waistband of his trousers. “You have your cell phone on you?”

“Yes. Reilly—”

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops.”

“Reilly.”

He looked into her shocked green eyes and saw pure stubbornness. She was going to be difficult about this. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “Look, the call was just a bit strange, even for Eddie. Given what we’ve been through in this very house, humor me.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to listen.

She nodded, then pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. “Ten minutes or call the police—” he said, breaking off when he leaned in for a quick, hard kiss he hadn’t known he needed.

He pulled back and started to get out of the car.

“It’s getting dark,” she whispered, her hand grabbing the front of his shirt. “I know how you feel about the dark. Let me come with you.”

She was going to kill him, this woman of the soft eyes and soft heart and the body that could bring him to his knees. “Wait here,” he repeated, then got out of the car. He stepped off the sidewalk and into the thick grouping of trees as he made his way toward the house under the security of the growth, wondering what the hell he was walking into this time.

Darkness hadn’t fallen yet, but it was close and no lights had been put on upstairs. In comparison, the downstairs blazed with lights, as well as the sounds of glass shattering and other assorted thumps and bumps that signified either a temper tantrum or that someone had decided to help his father redecorate in a very expensive manner.

Reilly skimmed around the back, keeping hidden by all the bush, which was easy enough to do. Damn, his father was extremely lax in the security department. In fact, this whole place, with the myriad of windows and doors—everything—it was all a virtual security nightmare.

The back door was unlocked. Naturally. Eddie might as well put out a sign that said come screw me over, please. Since no more commentary had come from his cell, he stuck it in his pocket. Then he pulled out his gun and entered. At the sound of more glass raining down, he flattened himself against the wall and looked around. He stood in a lanai that led to a large den, which opened into the great room. From there he’d be able to see the kitchen.

That’s where the glass-crashing sounds were coming from. He entered the den and saw no one.

From the kitchen came a screech that sounded furious and frustrated. “Take that!” a woman screamed.

He took the safety off the gun and headed into the great room. He could see a woman in the kitchen systematically tossing every piece of china and glass from the cabinets with glee. Reilly didn’t recognize the fortyish, tall, leggy blonde, though she had the usual look of one of Eddie’s preferred women—blond, stacked and…hard.

“And take that!” she cried and dropped a vase that looked quite expensive. She stomped on it. “Take that, you son of a bitch! Everything in this place should have been mine, would have been mine, if you’d just fallen in love with me.” Another vase hit the floor. She stomped on that, too. “Like I did with you!”

“Well,” Reilly said. “That was your first mistake, falling in love with the bastard.”

Her head came up and she stared at Reilly, at the gun pointed at her, and blinked. “How did you—” she said, blinking again. “You’re not Eddie.”

“Nope.”

“You look just like the no-good, son of a bitch.”

“I had some bad luck with the genes,” he agreed.

She tossed back her blond hair. Slowly licked her lips. “Are you as good in bed as he is?”

“Step away from the counter and the island,” he said. “Out into the open.”

Her full red lips affected a pout, but she did as he said. “I knew I was going to get caught this time,” she said.

“So, you’re the one. You’re the ex-girlfriend…Sheila, right?”

“Ex,” she said, nearly spitting it out. “I hate that word. Look, you can put away the gun. I’m not dangerous or anything.”

“I don’t think so.” With his free hand, he pulled out his cell again and called the police, even though Eddie had asked him not to. He no longer cared. While he punched in the numbers, he kept an eye on the woman he assumed was as crazy as she seemed.

His father sure could pick them.

When he hung up, she tried a sweet smile. “I just wanted to hurt the schmuck like he hurt me,” she said. “He discarded me like…like week-old trash.”

“Not to be contrary or anything,” he said, “but Eddie discards all women like week-old trash.”

A sound behind him had him taking a quick peek, because he didn’t intend to be taken down by this crazy lady’s thugs again. But instead of thugs, he saw Tessa.

And his mother.

Cheri smiled weakly and waggled her fingers at him. “Um, I need to break in here.” She eyed the hard-looking blonde with interest, then the mess at their feet, and finally Reilly, still holding his gun on the woman. “Honey, is that really necessary?”