Code Name: Genesis (Jameson Force Security #1)(27)

“Me?” she asks in surprise.

“You came to visit him in Vegas around the time we were dating,” I answer. “My mom did have someone following Kynan, and he snapped a picture of you two hugging. Coupled with some fake texts, emails, and receipts, it looked like he was two-timing me.”

“Oh, wow,” she murmurs as her gaze drifts to the pile of clothes before popping back up to me. “I bet Kynan was pissed.”

I nod, my own anger building again. “Pissed enough to fuck me, make me think we had a connection, and then walk away without another word. He didn’t even bother to get naked. Just unzipped his pants and—”

Rachel defensively holds up her hands. “TMI, Joslyn. TMI.”

I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “The point being… I thought it meant something, but it clearly didn’t to him. And truth be told… I think he acted that way to punish me for being so stupid all those years ago and falling for my mother’s shit.”

Empathy fills Rachel’s eyes. “Maybe. But we all do stuff out of anger we regret later, and I know Kynan… he’s not an inherently unkind man. He is an emotional one, though, and I’m betting he’s having some regrets today.”

I snort in disregard of such an assertion. I don’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt on this, which is exactly what I was guilty of doing twelve years ago. The irony of that is obvious, but I don’t give my body away easily. I have to feel something deep for a man. It hurt to know I was feeling it last night, while he was just feeling a good orgasm.

Or hell… maybe it wasn’t even good for him.

“Ugh,” I moan, snagging another outfit from the middle pile. I move to the free-standing full-length mirror in the corner of my room, then hold the red silk dress up in front of me. I’d worn it to the recording wrap party after my last album.

“Let’s go shooting,” Rachel suggests.

My brows draw together as I consider her through the mirror’s reflection. “Shooting?”

“Guns,” she replies smoothly. She swings her legs over the side of the bed where she bounds off. “It will be fun. You can imagine Kynan’s face in the center of the target. Besides… you should know how to shoot a gun for protection.”

“I know how to shoot a gun for protection,” I mutter as I examine the dress. “I’m from Montana for God’s sake.”

“Then let’s go shooting.” Rachel grins like this is the best idea in the entire world. It’s not, of course, but it is a lot better than cleaning out my closet.

“Okay,” I finally manage to say, tossing the red dress on the bed and feeling a bit… lighter. Maybe aiming at an imaginary target of Kynan’s head will improve my mood even more.

Rachel exits my room and I follow, nabbing my cell phone and purse from my dresser on the way out. When we make our way into the kitchen, I come up a bit short when I spot Kynan leaning on the kitchen island beside Bebe as she works on her laptop. He lifts his head, eyes locking on mine, and I can’t read a damn thing on his expression. No remorse or regret. No triumph he got laid last night without much fuss.

“I’m taking Joslyn to a shooting range,” Rachel announces as we step into the kitchen.

“No, you’re not,” Kynan replies with a nod to Bebe. “She’s found a flower shop about five miles from here that had a large purchase of sunflowers yesterday. Customer paid cash, but they entered it into their system, which auto adjusts their stock requirements based on daily purchases. I need you to go there and interview the people who were on duty. See if you can get an ID on the guy.”

“And also ask to see their security footage. They have cameras set up, but I didn’t hack them. Don’t want to draw unnecessary attention if we don’t have to.”

Rachel goes into full-on work mode, spine snapping straight. She gives me a short glance. “Sorry, Joslyn. Another time, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I hasten to reassure her. “This is far more important. But… I can go with you.”

“You stay with me,” Kynan growls, not even bothering to glance my way as he issues the order. His high-handedness grates on my nerves, but I realize deep down he’s only doing it for my own protection and not to annoy me.

Rachel reaches out, touching my arm. She gestures toward the front door. “Walk me out, okay?”

“Sure,” I reply softly and trail her out of the kitchen, through the great room, and to the large foyer to the double front doors. She picks up her rental car keys and backpack she’d left on a table before giving me her attention. “Listen… about what your mom did to you…”

I blink in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Don’t leave that unresolved, okay?” she advises. “Call her, send her an email… whatever you feel is the best way to communicate with her, but let her know you know what she did and give her the opportunity to apologize for it.”

“My mom doesn’t apologize for anything,” I mutter.

“Then at least you know she doesn’t have any remorse and you can move on. But that was a huge betrayal to you, and that shit will only fester. Trust me, I know a little bit about this sort of stuff.”

This takes me aback because while there’s been plenty of anger inside of me toward my mom, I have not once considered confronting her about it. There didn’t seem to be any purpose to it since we didn’t have the greatest relationship anyway. She was so angry with me for firing her as my manager that she had no qualms with essentially cutting me out of her life for a few years. It wasn’t until she remarried and her new husband urged her to reach out that we reconciled somewhat. I have to admit it hurt in those years we weren’t talking, but I’d also learned to live with it.