a man she didn’t recognize.
Before she could scream, he clamped his hand over her mouth, pushing her back into her pillow, pressing her hard into the mattress. Her heart thundered and she tried not to panic. Pushing at his hand, she couldn’t get his weight off her. He would suffocate her!
The door to her bedroom slammed open, light from the hallway spearing inside, and Jack launched himself at her assailant. The relief of his heaviness being tossed from her consumed her.
Marissa scrambled to move away, her sheets tangling around her. She screamed out to Kit, a warning in the case the assailant wasn’t working alone.
Griffin barreled into the room.
“One assailant. He’s down,” Jack said.
Griffin turned on the lights just as her sister appeared in the doorway.
On the floor at Jack’s feet was her assailant, and he wasn’t moving. Was this the man who had killed Avery? He had close-cropped black hair, a small nose and thin lips. He wore all black from his turtleneck to his sneakers. He didn’t look familiar.
Marissa’s heart was racing and she felt dizzy. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Jack said. “Maybe he can tell us why he’s here and what this has to do with Avery.”
“Breathe slower or you’ll pass out,” Kit said, setting her hand on Marissa’s back.
Marissa had been taking short puffs of air, but she finally inhaled deeply and focused again on the man on the floor in her bedroom. “I don’t know him.”
“An assassin?” Jack asked.
Griffin nodded once swiftly, agreeing with Jack.
Marissa looked between the three of them. “He was sent to kill me? How do you know?”
“Instinct,” Jack said.
Kit’s eyes were narrowed with concern. “It will be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out.”
Marissa looked at Jack. “Guess you won’t be booking a flight out.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m settling in for the duration.”
* * *
Jack didn’t follow gossip columns, but he had read up on Marissa on the flight to New York. He wouldn’t call watching over Marissa a mission. Though the intruder tonight had established Kit was correct in believing there was a real threat against Marissa, if Avery’s killer was the same man who attacked Marissa in her home, they could wrap this up, get the answers they needed, and Jack could be home by morning.
Jack didn’t know what to make of Marissa. Gorgeous, obviously, but she wasn’t arrogant about it. She was confident. He didn’t know how many women would be comfortable in a thin-strapped tank top and white silk pants while talking to strangers. The police had arrived at her home and had arrested her attacker. It was the second time in twenty-four hours that Marissa was making a statement to the police. The one upside to the assailant attempting to kill her was that she was no longer the prime suspect in Avery’s murder.
Marissa was talking with one of the officers on the scene. She spoke with her hands, her movements and face expressive.
Marissa was every bit as beautiful in person as she was in photos and magazines. Hard not to picture her wearing a swimsuit or lingerie like she did in her ads. Those were hard to ignore. They emphasized her best features: her face, her long hair, her curvy, toned body.
Jack had expected for this project to involve drama, mostly that of her making, but that wasn’t the case. The perpetrator had been arrested and they might be in the clear. A short assignment was fine with him. It had been a good distraction from the problems with Bianca and his last mission.
After the police left, Jack, Kit, Griffin and Marissa assembled in the kitchen. Kit had prepared tea. Marissa had a huge kitchen with white cabinets and black shiny countertops. Her dining room was expansive with vaulted ceilings, three of the sides lined with windows and the fourth open to the kitchen. Jack circled the room, closing the roman shades. No point in giving a marksman a clear shot of Marissa. She watched him but didn’t question what he was doing.
Marissa sat at the head of the ten-person table. She had put on a short purple robe and wore light purple slippers on her feet. Her hands were shaking and Jack fought the urge to put his arm around her. If she knew him better, she would know she was safe. He had a sixth sense about his clients. When trouble lurked, he sensed it and reacted quickly.
“The police said they’ll run his prints and try to get an ID. He wasn’t talking,” Kit said. “Reaffirms our suspicion that he was hired.”
Marissa took a sip of the tea her sister had set in front of her. “I don’t know why anyone would hire a man to kill me.”
“We need to find the connection to Avery,” Griffin said.
Jack agreed. He didn’t know enough about either woman to guess the motive.
“Avery and I were friends,” Marissa said. “But we hadn’t talked much recently.”
“Why’s that?” Jack asked, sensing she was holding back information.
Marissa was tapping her heel against the floor. “Avery and my boyfriend slept together. Rob cheated on me. We fought about it. The friendship was over. I let the tabloids speculate and didn’t talk to many people about it.”
Love triangles and jealousy were fuel for anger. “Could this be career jealousy from someone in your field?” Jack asked.
Marissa shrugged. “Maybe. There’s always someone who misses out on a product campaign or doesn’t get a spot they want in a show.”
“Or a stranger who became fixated on you and Avery,” Jack said.
Marissa shivered. “Could be.”
After tossing around a few more theories, Kit hugged her sister. “We have to pack for our flight. Unless you want me to reschedule?”
“Is it that late already? Or should I say that early? Don’t reschedule. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you.”
The sisters hugged and then Griffin and Kit left the room. Jack was alone with Marissa. She swirled the tea in her cup. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion.
“I should try and go back to sleep,” Marissa said. She rose slowly, bracing her hands on the table as she stood.
“Let me check your bedroom and bathroom. Then I’ll sweep the house again,” Jack said. He followed Marissa up the stairs, looking away from her perfectly round rear end and her robe swishing around her legs as she climbed.
Her bedroom smelled faintly of spices. Jack couldn’t have named which ones. With the exception of the unmade bed, the room was tidy and on the gray walls were black-and-white prints of famous architectural landmarks: the Taj Mahal in Agra, the Palace of Versailles and St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Jack checked the windows, moving aside the semisheer curtains to ensure they were latched and locked.
“How did you know someone was in my room?” Marissa asked, sitting on her bed, legs over the side of the mattress.
“I heard the creaking of floorboards and suspected you were either awake or someone had gotten inside,” Jack said. He had wanted to check on her in either case.
The police had traced the location of the breach to a balcony on the second floor. The perpetrator had climbed to it and slipped inside a guest bedroom by forcing the nails from the outdated lock and opening the sliding glass door.
“You saved my life. Thank you,” Marissa said. When she spoke her gratitude, it sounded almost sensual.
The back of his neck heated. “Glad I could be of service,” Jack said. She must get tired of men staring at her, fantasizing about her, but it was easy to do. Her voice was gentle yet strong and her eyes were expressive.
Marissa