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Reception

The Kane Series

 

 

1


Jameson Kane rolled his head to one side, then sharply jerked it in the opposite direction.

Crack!

“Ah, thank god. I've been trying to do that since yesterday,” he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I told you I could book you a massage. Several times,” Sanders pointed out.

“Why pay money for something Tate will do for free? I swear, first thing when I get home, I'm going to lay down, then have her walk up and down my spine in a pair of five inch heels,” Jameson stated.

“Sounds painful.”

“Sounds delightful.”

The car they were waiting for pulled up and he slid into the back seat, quickly followed by his sometimes-assistant. Jameson didn't think he would ever get used to it, sharing a back seat with Sanders. The young man had been driving him around for so many years, it was bizarre to suddenly shift.

Sanders had resisted at first, when they met up in Switzerland for a business meeting and Jameson insisted on renting a car and a driver. The assistant could either sit in the back, or walk.

After four days of walking, Sanders gave up and got in the backseat.

“Why didn't Tatum meet us at the airport?” he asked, smoothing his tie as the car pulled away from the curb.

“Because Tatum doesn't know we're here,” Jameson replied.

“Pardon me?”

“We're three days early. I wanted to surprise her.”

“Forgive me, sir, but she hates surprises.”

“I know.”

“So why do you do this? It will just make everyone miserable.”

“That's part of the fun,” Jameson grinned.

It was a lengthy drive. Sanders made an attempt to work on his phone, but Jameson took it away, knowing the other man well enough to figure he'd try to warn Tate.

“I can only stay for a week,” Sanders reminded him when they finally pulled onto the pebble lined driveway.

“Yes, yes, you keep reminding me,” Jameson said.

“Well, whenever you two want me to visit, it always turns into more. Hong Kong was only a year ago and it turned into a huge fiasco. I was gone for almost three weeks in the end,” Sanders reminded him.

“Never gonna shut up about that, are you?”

“Most likely not.”

“Just enjoy the vacation,” Jameson snapped.

The car came to a stop and the men climbed out. Sanders tipped the driver while Jameson went ahead and unloaded their bags. They had done so much traveling that they were now excellent packers – one suitcase a piece was more than enough for short business trips.

“I don't see any cars, are you sure she's here?” Sanders asked, looking around as they climbed the steps to the house.

“I'm sure. We sold the Bentley.”

Sanders stopped moving.

“You sold my car?”

Jameson smiled.

“Your car? Funny, I'm pretty sure I bought it. Besides, it's not like you're ever around to drive it anymore,” he pointed out, taking out his keys to unlock the front door.

“But … but … that car …” Sanders stammered.

“I'm joking. It's getting detailed, they'll deliver your precious baby later today.”

“Forgive me for saying, sir, but you are not funny.”

The house was quiet, which surprised Jameson. Usually when he got home from work, if Tate was already home, there was some sort of noise filling the house. The woman simply couldn't keep quiet. A TV blaring, music blasting, or even her just talking to herself while she attempted to cook.

“Tate?” he called out, jogging up the stairs. Their bedroom was empty, as were the two guest rooms that flanked it. The bathroom was vacant, as well. Downstairs he found the gym, kitchen, and library in the same state.

“In the back,” Sanders stated, meeting up with him in the living room. Jameson nodded and led the way. A door at the back of the room gave way to the conservatory, beyond which lay the backyard and, of course, the swimming pool.

When he walked outside, the first thing he saw was Tate. She was at the other end of the pool, walking in his direction, her head bent down as she looked at a magazine. Closer to the house sat a lounge chair, and fair skinned girl with carrot colored hair was stretched on it. Jameson's grin turned wolfish.

He loved it whenever Tate invited Rusty over. He liked Rusty a lot, and it wasn't because he harbored any sexual feelings towards the girl – it was because he made her nervous. Scared. He loved that, and always made it a point to really live up to his satanic nickname in front of her.

But before he could say anything, another person entered the picture. Jameson stood completely still as he watched a man walk across the lawn. The younger guy was wearing board shorts and flip flops, no shirt. He shouted something to Tate, and Jameson recognized his voice.

“Do you know him, sir?” Sanders asked in a steely voice. Normally, Sanders getting all protective would've made Jameson laugh, but at that moment, he was too busy thinking of the different places on his property where he could hide a body.

“Yes.”

The man was a junior broker, Richard Klimas, and he had started at Kraven Brokerage the previous fall. He and Tate had met at the company Christmas party, and it had been obvious from the start that Rich liked her. They were close in age and were both energetic. Add to the mix that Tate pretty much embodied sexuality in general, and boom. The man was in love.

Or rather, the man was in lust.

“Why are you reading!? It's gorgeous out, you're by a pool, you're in a bikini! You should be swimming!” Rich was laughing loudly. Tate laughed as well.

“Eh, today is more of a sun tan day,” she replied, nothing bother to look up as she spoke.

“Oh, I think it's a swimming day,” he teased. She shook her head.

“Not for me, but you can totally feel free to -”

As Jameson watched through narrowed eyes, the younger man suddenly rushed at Tate. She barely had time to look up from her magazine before Rich ran into her, wrapping his arms around her waist while throwing them both into the pool. Tate managed one good shriek before they hit the water.

“I am going to hope that he is a friend of yours,” Sanders added, and his voice almost sounded angry.

Well, angry for him.

 
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