by Lisa Childs
And death.
* * *
“This is weird.” Kylie murmured as she settled onto the chair Heath held out for her. While they’d often spent their Saturdays together, they’d been at the office, not dining in fancy downtown restaurants like True. Usually they ordered takeout that they ate at one of the conference tables. But she hadn’t wanted to go back to the office, not so soon. Yesterday had been hard enough, being there without Ernie and Alfie.
And having that detective interrogate them...
Even now she felt as if everyone in the big dining room, with its high green ceiling, was watching them, and a strange chill raced down her spine. She should have kept her jacket instead of hanging it up. But her outfit, of sweater dress and tall boots, was warm, probably too warm for the dining room with sunshine pouring in through the tall windows in the walls of the old warehouse. Snowflakes shimmered within the sunlight as they fluttered to the ground and against the windows, leaving wet kisses on the glass as they melted. The long cold days of January were over, and February was starting to warm and brighten up.
The weather...
Not their lives.
Not their circumstances given the loss of such wonderful men.
“What’s weird?” Heath asked as he settled into his chair across the table from her.
“You holding my chair,” she said. “You acting like we’re a couple.”
“You’re the one who started this,” he reminded her.
Needlessly. She wasn’t going to forget what she’d done, how she’d lied. “I did it to protect you,” she said in her defense.
“And I’m playing along to protect you,” Heath said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He reached across the table and stroked the back of her hand.
And she shivered again even as her skin heated and tingled. She tugged her hand from beneath his and put it under the table, on her lap with her other hand. The trouble she was worried about right now wasn’t the police but him. He’d never turned his charm on her before. He had never acted like a boyfriend to her. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t like it or if she liked it too much.
He grinned and leaned across the table, so that his face—his handsome face—came very close to hers. “And you are going to play along with me, my darling, so that nobody suspects you lied during a police investigation.”
No. She didn’t like it. Not at all. But she would play along, so that neither of them got in trouble, so that the police would focus on finding the real suspect, not just the easy one. She smiled back at him and leaned closer, so that her mouth was just inches from his, and murmured, “You lied, too.”
He reached out and slid his finger down the short length of her nose. “And we both know why.”
So she wouldn’t be arrested. She glared at him even as her lips stayed curved in that smile, even as her skin tingled again from his touch. “So the real killer will be caught.”
Heath’s wide grin slipped away as he grimly nodded. “I hope the detective will focus now on finding him or her instead of interrogating me and my family.” But then he sat up straighter in his chair, his body tense as he stared over her head.
She turned and noticed the tall black man walking down the stairs that led to Heath’s cousin’s office. The detective must have been questioning Tatum, too.
“Do you think he saw us?” she murmured, tempted to slouch down in her chair.
Detective Parker answered her question before Heath as he headed toward their table. “Good afternoon, you two. I’m surprised to find you here, but you must not come that often—at least not together—because the proprietress had no idea you two are an item.”
He knew.
The mad pounding of her heart confirmed it even more than the look in his dark eyes. The knowing look.
The certain look.
He knew they were lying. Her fake alibi had only made Heath look guiltier than he already had to the homicide detective. He stared at Heath now, his eyes full of all of his suspicions. Not only did he believe Heath had lied but also that he’d killed his dad and uncle.
* * *
A knot tightened in the pit of Heath’s stomach as he stared up at the detective. He felt like a kid whose teacher was accusing him of cheating. Heath hadn’t cheated in school; he hadn’t needed to.
And while he could be ruthless in business, he had never cheated anyone. He just got very pushy and determined when he really cared about something, like he cared about Colton Connections and Pop’s and Uncle Alfie’s inventions.
But this time...he had lied.
For good reason.
He forced a smile for the detective. “As Kylie and I have already told you, not very many people know that we’re more than friends.”
“Why is that?” Parker asked. “Is dating coworkers against company policy?”
“No,” Kylie answered, probably automatically since she was in charge of HR. “Not as long as both parties enter freely into the relationship, with no pressure.”
Heath flinched—because he had been under pressure—under pressure to lie for her.
“Then why all the secrecy?” Parker asked.
“I’ve always been a very private person,” Heath replied.
“Yet you brought your last girlfriend here often,” Parker murmured as he cast a pitying glance at Kylie, as if he didn’t think Heath treated her as well as he had Gina. Or that he was ashamed of her.
He was incredibly proud to be seen with her anywhere. But they had rarely gone out together for lunch or dinner, ordering takeout instead. A twinge of guilt struck Heath before he remembered that he and Kylie were only pretending. She wasn’t really his girlfriend.
“Gina liked to come here,” Heath said.
Parker turned toward Kylie. “And you don’t?”
“I enjoy cooking,” she said. “Heath and I enjoy cooking together.”
“Your cousin said you’re not much of a chef,” Parker remarked.
That knot tightened even more now that the lies were being exposed, but was there enough evidence yet for Parker to press charges against Kylie—against him for aiding and abetting her fake alibi?
“What does my cooking prowess—or lack thereof—have to do with the investigation into my father’s and uncle’s murders?” he asked.
Parker shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”
Maybe. The detective clearly wasn’t convinced yet that Heath had had nothing to do with it. How could he not see that Heath had really had nothing to gain but everything to lose? The men he’d admired most in the world.
As if seeing his discomfort, or maybe just wanting to sell their fake alibi, Kylie leaned across the table and grasped his hand with hers. “Don’t worry, darling. Detective Parker will realize we have nothing to hide.”
“Yet it seems you have been hiding your relationship,” Parker remarked.
“Not hiding,” Kylie said. “Just busy...”
“With what?” Parker asked.
“Business.”
“With what?” he asked again. “Some big takeover?”
Kylie shook her head. “We’re not that kind of business.”
“We’re? Are you part owner now? Do you have a stake in it?”
“No,” she replied.
But she would have—had Heath asked her. He’d wanted to do it here, had wanted to surprise and reward her for all her hard work over the past five years. But he couldn’t do it now...or Parker would consider it her payment for providing his alibi and they would both look guilty of a crime they hadn’t committed. That neither of them could have with how much they’d loved those wonderful, creative, fun men.
A hollowness echoed inside his chest, his heart aching with a loss he wished he could have somehow prevented and never, ever would have initiated.
“You are way off base looking at my family as suspect
s,” Heath told him. “My dad and uncle were so loving and so loved. There’s no way any one of us would have hurt them.”
Parker tilted his head, his stare still intense and speculative as he studied Heath’s face. “What about your baby brother? I hear his relationship wasn’t the greatest with your dad.”
Heath flinched. “Jones loves—loved—my dad. He recently opened his own brewery—Lone Wolf Brewery. He was working hard to make our father proud of him.”
Parker shrugged again, seemingly his favorite gesture to express his doubt. “Now I heard that wasn’t as easy for Jones as it was for you. Sounds like you were the favorite, the golden son as it was.”
“Heath and his dad and uncle were very close,” Kylie agreed.
“Like the two of you...” Parker mused with a little chuckle, as if he found the idea of Kylie and Heath as a couple to be laughable.
Heath bristled even more. They could have been a real couple—if they didn’t work together, if they didn’t value their friendship over romance. At least he thought that was the reason Kylie had never seemed interested in anything more with him.
While he’d always found her attractive, he hadn’t wanted to jeopardize the best working relationship he’d ever had. He and Kylie worked together like his dad and uncle had; they complemented each other. One’s strengths were the other’s weaknesses.
Heath turned his hand over and entwined his fingers with Kylie’s slender ones, and a strange sensation trailed up his arm almost striking his heart.
“We are very close,” Heath told the detective.
The man’s brow creased and some of the suspicion faded from his gaze. Heath had spoken the truth this time, and Parker must have recognized it as such. Finally the man nodded. “There are all kinds of closeness, for all kinds of reasons.”
So now he must have considered them both to be suspects in the murders. Frustration gnawed at Heath; he was never going to convince this man of his innocence, so maybe it was good that Kylie had lied for him.
“Well, Detective, we don’t want to keep you from your investigation,” Heath said, “and we haven’t ordered yet.” The waiter hadn’t approached their table, probably not wanting to interrupt their conversation with the man standing next to them.
Parker nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you both again,” he said; his deep voice added a rumble of a threat when he continued, “soon.”
Heath watched the man walk away before turning his attention back to the stairs leading up to his cousin’s office. She hadn’t come down. From his vantage point, he would have seen her, just as he’d seen Parker. It was lunchtime; usually the head chef and owner would be in the kitchen. “I need to go check on Tatum,” he said.
Kylie nodded. “Of course.”
Heath had to tug his hand free of hers to push his chair back and step away from the table.
Kylie’s face flushed. “I forgot...”
“That we’re just acting?” he teased.
Her face flushed deeper, but she glared at him. “I’m well aware we’re just acting. I’m not your type at all.”
He tilted his head and studied her face. “What do you think my type is?” he asked, curious since he hadn’t even been aware that he had a type.
“Gina,” she said. “Blond, clingy, hangs on your every word.”
“You’re not blond and clingy,” he agreed. “But I thought you hung on my every word.”
“What? Did you say something?” she said, amusement glinting in her dark eyes as she teased him.
He chuckled. “Order something for me for lunch, please, something that you’ll want to eat later.” Because he wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been since that night he’d stared through the window of the morgue.
He turned to walk away but Kylie reached out and grasped his hand again, holding him back. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “Eventually.”
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about their lie of an alibi or losing his dad and his uncle. The former might be okay, eventually, but not the latter. He would never be able to accept and understand that. He suspected he wasn’t the only one.
He hurried up the steps to Tatum’s office then. Even before he knocked, he heard her sobs emanating from behind the closed door. The sound stopped when he knocked, but when he opened the door, he found her sitting behind her desk, her shoulders slumped, her face wet and red with tears.
“Oh, Tatum...” he murmured. He crossed the small office and pulled her up from her chair and into his arms. She was as much a sister to him as Carly was, and her grief broke his heart. “What did the detective do? What did he say that has you so upset?”
She pulled back and shook her head. “It wasn’t him. Well, not just him.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “It’s too soon for you to be working.”
“You went to work yesterday,” she said. “You have to stay busy, just like I do.”
He nodded. “I know. I get that. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how busy you try to stay you can’t forget.”
She uttered a ragged sigh. “I know. We’ll never forget.”
“No,” he agreed. And he didn’t want to—all he wanted was justice. “I don’t understand why the detective is so focused on our family, though. I don’t know why he’s not looking at real suspects.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I know. He seems so damn certain that it’s one of us.” Her gaze slipped away from his face.
“Me,” Heath said. “He thinks it’s me.”
Tatum still didn’t look at him, making him worry that she was beginning to believe it, too. That all of his family would look at him as the detective did, as a killer.
Chapter 8
The second Heath left her sitting alone at the table, Kylie felt as if everyone was staring at her, probably wondering if her date had ditched her. But Heath wasn’t her date. Not really.
Just as she’d told him, she wasn’t his type. He wasn’t hers either. Not that she had a particular type beyond trustworthy. Whomever she dated she had to trust implicitly, and that came very hard for her. Sure, she trusted Heath as a friend and a colleague. Her boss.
But as a lover?
No.
He’d broken too many hearts for her to ever trust him with hers. She shivered as that chill raced down her spine again. Someone was staring at her. But when she glanced around, the other diners seemed intent on their lunch companions or their food. No one was overtly staring at her.
But...
That feeling persisted—so much so that she slid out of her chair and took Heath’s—so that her back was not to the dining room or to the stairwell. He was already descending those stairs—behind Tatum.
His cousin’s face was flushed, her smile obviously forced. She didn’t stop at any of the tables and headed straight toward the kitchen. It was lunchtime, so she was probably needed there. Maybe that was why she and Heath hadn’t spoken long, not long enough for Kylie to order more than drinks for them. And those had yet to come.
“Is she all right?” Kylie asked when Heath settled into her recently vacated chair.
He shrugged. “She’s trying to be strong, trying to work through it all.”
Like him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No.”
“What happened?” she asked because he was more upset than he’d been when he’d left the table just moments ago.
“He’s questioning everybody like they’re a suspect,” he murmured, shaking his head.
She groaned. “If only he’d focus on finding the real killer.” But the cops who’d arrested her mother hadn’t been interested in finding the real suspect, just the easy one to convict.
“He thinks it’s me,” Heath said, and a grimace of pain crossed his handsome face.
“You already knew that,” she s
aid. “Something else happened that’s upset you.” She reached out and clasped his hand again, squeezing it for comfort. “What’s wrong?”
“I think my family might be starting to think the same thing Parker is.”
She shook her head. “No. They all know you. They know how much you loved your dad and Alfie. There is no way they would ever believe that.”
He stared at her then. “Why are you so sure of me?” he asked. “We weren’t really together that...” He trailed off and glanced around, as if he’d had that same sensation she had, that someone was watching them. Maybe Detective Parker hadn’t really left.
But he didn’t have to finish for Kylie to know what he meant. “I know you would never—ever—do anything like that because I know you. And your family does, too.”
“They don’t think they know me that well now,” he said. “Because of us, of what we’re claiming to be.”
It had been a mistake to lie; she knew that now. The fake alibi hadn’t removed suspicion from Heath but had seemed to increase it.
He said, “We shouldn’t talk about that here.”
There was more he wanted to say to her—obviously. But Kylie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it now, not when he looked so grim about it. Was he going to force her to come clean about the false alibi to the detective?
Then she would risk going to jail like her mother had, except in this instance she had actually committed the crime of lying, whereas her mother had done nothing wrong. The same panic and fear she’d felt that night so very long ago overwhelmed her now, making it hard for her breathe.
Heath had no such problem, though. He drew in a deep breath and then grinned at her. Even though it was probably forced, the pressure in her chest eased somewhat...until he said, “So we’re just going to have to work harder to convince everyone that we’re really involved.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, and she tried to lean back in her chair and pull her hand from his.
But he clasped it in his and leaned forward, brushing his lips across her knuckles.
