As she walked down a long-carpeted hallway, reigning in her anger, the last door on the left stood open. An incandescent triangle of light shone from the open door onto the hallway carpet ahead.
It was time. He was here.
Kirin stopped short. Her poor uncle had to sidestep around her, so he didn’t knock them both down. He turned around in front of her, placed “What’s up, kiddo?”
Dead body in the next room. She couldn’t recall if they’d agreed on the casket remaining open or closed. Shit.
She swallowed hard to give her dry-as-sand throat time to function. Coffee and a banana churned inside her stomach, threatening a reappearance. She hadn’t laid eyes on him since he drove away when she was eight.
Uncle Shane mistook her silence for grief and hugged her again.
“Honey, it’s about to start. Can you walk?”
Kirin nodded and walked into the room wide-eyed, like a frightened child in a haunted house. She scanned the room. Breathe. A sleek, silver casket stood off to one side, lid closed, thank God.
Another quick scan told her there weren’t many present, except for small pockets of people talking quietly. A chill ran up her spine. She hugged herself as her gaze slid back over the room and stopped. At the far side, three men stood shoulder to shoulder and stared directly at her. They were dressed like undertakers…or maybe mobsters wearing matching dark-suits, menacing faces and shiny shoes.
Gooseflesh rose on both arms. She took a deep breath, placed her handbag on the front pew and took her designated spot in the receiving line. Only a handful of people shuffled through the line, but all knew who she was. Which again, felt strange. Other than she and her Uncle Shane, everyone else introduced themselves as “an associate.” It was odd. Nobody introduced themselves as his “friend” or even his “golf buddy.” Did he have no one?
After a few moments, the sparse line of people thinned out to only one straggler. A woman, who held one hand on the casket and stared off into space.
Uncle Shane glanced from Kirin to the three men and back. His eyes narrowed as if to say, ‘What’s with them?’ Kirin shrugged. She had no idea. Why would you attend a funeral and not speak to the family?
He shook his head, gave her arm a squeeze then sat down in the first pew. This left her to stand awkward and alone with the woman who had yet to approach and the casket which held her father. She pretended both weren’t there.
Smoothing wispy hairs from her face, she concentrated on the space around her. Twelve crosses stood guard in this one room. Twelve. Wringing her hands, she counted people to busy her mind, when a blinding white smile from the back of the room caught her attention, then trapped her gaze.
Two of the black-suited men stood still as if carved out of ice. The bright smile came from the short, tanned-skinned man standing between them. He dripped in gold jewelry, with salt and pepper hair and stared at her as if he was starved, and she was a juicy steak.
His movements were calculated and slow as if everyone had been paralyzed except him. His tailored suit coupled with bright yellow tie, pointed chin, and up-turned nose made him appear smug. His cocky, wide-stance and unwavering eyes were locked on her.
When her gaze landed on his, he winked. Knots cramped her stomach. Weird man. Politely, she turned to shake the hand of the lone straggler who’d finally approached her. The woman held a white cloth which she dabbed at the corner of one eye then shook hands.
She looked regal and thin, wearing stylish clothes and long, gray, swept-back hair tied in a loose bun, reminding Kirin of an elegant but aging supermodel. Her pale blue eyes were the same color as Kirin’s, but shifty. And even though her eyes said she’d been crying for days, her smile made her appear much less intimidating. She had a grip though. Sheesh. Fingers so thin shouldn’t be able to squeeze that tight.
Whispering, she introduced herself. “Kirin, I’m Janet. I was your dad’s secretary. I’m so sorry for your loss. The hospice center told you I’ve got a book to give you, right?”
Janet leaned back, never offering to let go of the hold she had on Kirin’s hand. She lowered her face to peer into Kirin’s eyes, waiting for a reply. Kirin tried to let go, but the woman’s grip was not budging.
“They did. I-I can’t imagine what he’d have left me. He didn’t know me.” Kirin’s voice wavered for the first time all morning and her eyes shot downward. When a tear threatened to let loose, she sniffed and lifted her chin, finding the man with the yellow tie still staring at her. His smile faded. His lips formed a thin sneer as he stared from Janet to her.
When her attention turned back to Janet, the woman examined her. Her fleeting half-smile didn’t touch her eyes. “Meet me at his office before your flight home this afternoon, okay?”
Janet’s voice held a quiet confidence, honest, and kind. What could a book tell her other than how little her father knew her? What she wanted to do, was turn her back on this damn book, like he turned his back on her. She could do it. She could walk away and not discover what it held to prove her point.
Who was she kidding? No, she couldn’t. Curiosity would always win. It was her Kryptonite. “Sure.” She nodded. Janet smiled, a real one this time. A tear slid down her cheek as she turned to leave.
Movement caught her eye from the leader as he leaned over to whisper something to a short man on his right. She’d bet they were related. Both were stocky and tan, but the other man had a silver scar running down his right cheek. The scarred man nodded toward Janet as she walked out of the room.
Chapter Three
Only in LA would a funeral service take less time than ordering fast food at a drive-thru. She was grateful, though. Had Southerners ran the funeral, she’d still be knee deep in the prayer service and late to her next two stops.
Uncle Shane’s flight back to Montana left earlier than Kirin’s, so he offered to drive her to meet with her father’s attorney, then drop her off at Sonny’s office building before heading to the airport. She’d call a cab after she met with Janet.
She examined him as he drove. He reminded her so much of her father. Well, if her dad had been the outdoorsy hunter type instead of a geeky numbers guy, that is. Yet, they shared the trademark Terhune, turned-up nose and inky black hair with a receding hairline. Well, at least from what she remembered of her father. Shane’s black hair was slicked back on both sides of his temples with a few gray sparkles dotting each side.
A self-proclaimed “bachelor to the rapture,” Uncle Shane married once, in Vegas. He was the youngest of her father’s siblings, and the only one still alive. Their sister Maggie had died when Kirin was a baby. Fell out of a window or something crazy like that. Her uncle rattled on about his busy Montana tour-guide business as they drove away from her father’s attorney’s office. Kirin laughed at his tall tales as he drove.
“I took on a quail hunting tour last week, I shit you not, filled with professional cheerleaders. Some sort of team bonding exercise. No joke. It was like handing grenades to a room full of two-year-olds. Half of them were so scatterbrained, I didn’t give them ammunition. They kept shooting like they had rounds.” His eyebrows danced as he laughed at his own joke. Smiling, she shook her head.
“You’re not right.” She poked him in the arm.
“True.”
At the next stoplight, his laughter died down and his face faded to somber.
“Kirin?”
“Yeah?”
“You know your dad was a good man, right?”
Good men didn’t leave their only child to be raised by relatives. Good men didn’t leave town weeks after their wife died. Good men kept their promises.
When she didn’t answer and leveled a look of disbelief at him, he continued, “I’m serious. A good man in a crap situation.”
Uncle Shane parked his rental car in front of The Chapman Building, took a deep breath and turned toward her. “Look, I know. He separated himself from me too. I remember how bad it hurt. But, you saw those guys back there. You think they look
ed normal? They were his friends?”
She had to admit, she’d wondered the same thing. Her father had been a decent investment broker, a numbers guy. And before her mother died, she’d would’ve described him as a cautious, corny joke-telling, caring dad. But that was before.
She closed her eyes. Opening them a beat later, she hooked her purse over her shoulder and shook her head. “One thing I know for sure, there’s no way in hell I’d let somebody else raise my kids.”
He let out a defeated breath. “I know. But what if he had no choice?”
She scooted to the edge of the seat and narrowed a look at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How would he have had no choice?” Turning she pointed a thumb back the way they came. “That attorney insinuated he’d be sending me a large check. You’re telling me he was too poor to put his daughter on a bus?”
Uncle Shane exhaled, ran a hand through his thin hair and smiled sadly at her. Then he pulled her in for a last embrace. “Look, all I’m saying is those men … they weren’t his fishin’ buddies.”
Kirin returned the hug, then shrugged. “And now, we’ll never know.”
They both got out and met at the trunk. She gathered her bags and hugged him one last time.
Kirin waved as her uncle drove away. She’d promised to call him when she got back to Tennessee. He’d acted as if he wanted to say more but didn’t. She’d never believe her father was forced to leave her. He was nothing more than a deadbeat dad. And now, she had to retrieve Mr. Deadbeat’s book.
~*~
Exotic red flowers danced in manicured beds flanking the ornate door of The Chapman Building. Obviously, this was the money district. Glancing around, she couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Bentley or Rolls. Women, tan, thin, and dripping in diamonds strutted down the spotless, tiled sidewalks to go shopping in clothes that cost more than her 4Runner.
As she reached the door of her father’s building, an angry California wind kicked up, wrapping long strands of Kirin’s blonde hair around her face and into her mouth. She choked and gagged, then dropped her bag to free up her right hand. She swatted at her hair like a ninja.
Frustration coursed through every vein. She’d gone to the damn funeral and now she wanted to go home. Every second longer she stayed stung like a slap-in-the-face reminder of a life with her father she never had. He’d made moving to LA more important than his only child and to be honest, she played the part of the jealous little sister.
As she made it to the door and swung it open, her stomach growled. Way past lunch time. With the time change, her boys would be sitting on the floor or playing computer games while Rosa started supper. Perfect time to text them and check in.
Typically, doing anything while walking had always been a stretch for Kirin. Considering her uncomfortable heels and the fact she wore a skirt and towed a rolling suitcase and a loaded-down purse, this could prove disastrous.
She texted Rosa, “How’s it going? Finished with funeral, headed to airport in 10. Miss you guys.”
Kirin locked her phone and dropped it into the black hole of her purse. She stomped over to the directory and searched for his name:
Michael “Sonny” Terhune and Associates, 13th Floor
She stared at it for a beat. Weird. For one, most buildings had no thirteenth floor, but two, he’d been an important man. One with his own floor of a building. So why weren’t there more people at his funeral?
Kirin wandered into the elevator. Distracted, she glanced inside her purse and pulled out her phone to check if Rosa responded. Without warning, her right heel caught the threshold of the sliding elevator door and launched her headfirst into the elevator. She landed on a tall guy, wearing a hoodie pulled down low, covering most of his face.
He caught her around the waist and stood her upright. Clearly aggravated, he let out a loud “huff.” Under his navy hood, she couldn’t make out his face but when he released her, he crossed his arms in an angry stance.
Her fair cheeks flashed hot. She mumbled an apology toward the floor and spun toward the opposite side. Staring down, she said to the woman in front of the number pad, “thirteen, please.”
Self-conscious, she rubbed the back of her neck feeling judgmental eyes boring into the back of her head. Especially the man in far back corner. Kirin glared down at her cute but hazardous shoes, as if they could understand how angry she was at them. The silver elevator door closed with a thud.
Three people rode the elevator, but the tension made it feel stuffy and overcrowded. Other than her, there was a heavy-set, red-headed woman who looked to be in her late fifties, and the hooded guy she’d accidentally tackled. He’d moved as far away as possible to the other side of the elevator in the corner shortly after he’d caught her.
The redheaded woman reeked of money. From her freshly blown out hair and Prada bag to her shiny manicure and bright red lips, she even smelled expensive. Pampered. She also appeared to talk to herself, until Kirin spotted the shiny earpiece and telltale blue light.
Kirin stared straight ahead, awkwardly trying to pretend she wasn’t forced to eavesdrop on the woman’s entire conversation.
“What?” her voice screeched high. “No! I wouldn’t have sold the property to him, ever, because…”
She turned to glare at Kirin, no doubt because she listened in on the woman’s conversation. Hello. As if she could help it, they were stuck in a ten-by-ten box.
She hesitated, then whispered dramatically, “He’s dangerous.” Ms. Expensive squared her shoulders and stretched a little taller. “And besides, I didn’t want to sell it before, but now, my mind has been changed.” The red-headed woman turned toward the man in the navy hoodie and shot him a smile.
Kirin twisted slightly to look at him. He hadn’t changed his screw off stance. He stood like an iron statue, with his hoodie angled perfectly so most of his face was covered.
The elevator dinged on the tenth floor. As soon as the doors opened, the woman pointed her nose to the sky and waddled off. Hoodie man stayed put. Feet wide, arms crossed, he carried the pissed off attitude until right before the doors closed.
Suddenly, he darted past Kirin through the closing elevator doors, narrowly escaping from being crushed. Kirin tried to get a look at his face, but his sudden movement had startled her, and she couldn’t see his face.
When the elevator pitched back to life, something else was in the air. Remnants of cologne. An earthy smell. Man, did she like that cologne. Sam’s face crossed her mind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, making a mental note to research that scent.
~*~
The smell of garlic permeated the worn red carpet of the Italian restaurant. It was a scent that took him back to his childhood, back when he was innocent. Sam trudged down the dimly lit hallway like he was heading to the gallows. And in a way, he was. Behind the last brass doorknob on the right stood a roomful of people he loved yet didn’t trust. When he reached the door, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Just last week, his life had made more sense. Now, he was risking his life for a woman who didn’t even know he existed. But he’d made a promise. A promise he couldn’t back down on, not that he ever did.
Head held high and confidence turned on, he turned the handle and entered the lion’s den.
~*~
The floor numbers illuminated in sequence leading to the thirteenth floor. Kirin would miss her flight back home if she didn’t move this meeting along. Janet had better be able to talk fast. She set a timer on her phone for ten minutes. Ten minutes tops and she was out of there, book or no book.
When the elevator door opened, there was a tiny waiting room anchored by a large wooden door. Two chairs, no windows, and a door. Nothing else. The door didn’t even have a doorknob. Kirin tried for nonchalant as if she stepped off an elevator into a tomb every day. Her stomach clenched. How do you get inside? Two cameras pointed at her head from the ceiling.
A buzzing sound rang out and the door creaked open slow like she was in a scary movie.
Shoulders lowered and chin raised, she took a deep breath and walked through. Janet rose from behind a sleek, gray desk. She smiled at Kirin and strolled toward her.
When Janet reached her, she pulled her in, hugging her tighter than expected, then she held Kirin out at arm’s length with misty eyes. She looked at Kirin as if she were a lost child who’d returned home. Janet released her then grabbed a dirty, green book from the desk, placing it in Kirin’s hands. Words tumbled out of Janet as if she’d get caught with a note in school. “Here. Put it in your purse. Don’t let go of it, until you get home.”
Her eyes switched from happy homecoming to fearful in a snap and the quiver in her voice rattled as she spoke.
Kirin turned the book over in her hands. It was short and thick with yellowed pages and a torn camouflage cover. It’s spine wrinkled like a skinny, old chain smoker. Battered, it looked as if it’d been through several wars, not winning any of them. Janet’s voice dragged Kirin’s gaze back to her face.
“Kirin. Listen. And I mean really hear me. Your dad adored you. I understand it doesn’t seem possible to you right now, but someday this will all make sense. I can’t do this for you. This is your journey, not mine.” Grasping Kirin’s shoulders, she sighed. Dread swept across her face. “Your dad and I married in secret long after your mom passed away. I posed as his secretary, so we could stay close without anyone suspecting.”
Kirin’s back straightened. She interrupted, “Wait…you married my father? Why in secret?”
Janet sighed, speaking as if she chose her words carefully. “Associates of your dad’s. Let’s just say, they didn’t appreciate him having a home life.”
Kirin’s eyebrows furrowed as she stepped back, slightly out of Janet’s reach. Her brain caught up as disappointment slammed into her chest. He’d married again. She wasn’t told. Once again, left in the dark by her father.
Janet ignored the question in her eyes and kept talking. “Keep your eyes open, and always be wary of strangers, especially anyone who asks about the book.”
Entangling: Book One of the Kirin Lane Series Page 4
