See How She Dies

by Lisa Jackson

  Oh, God, had he done the same with Katherine? His stepmother? She wondered about Zach and Kat’s relationship. Something wasn’t right about it. Not at all. Her mind began to wander down a hot, dark path as she remembered his expression as he’d studied Kat’s portrait. Had it been yearning? Forbidden desire?

  “This is getting you nowhere,” she warned herself as she turned off the jets and the room grew quiet. She tried to clear her mind, to stop her thoughts from reverting to Zach. She couldn’t get involved with him. It was suicide to think otherwise. Everyone in the family distrusted her. Even Zachary. She had to remember that. They would do anything to dispute her story, to prove her a fake.

  She leaned back again, closing her eyes and letting the warm water lap around her. She just needed some time to relax. Unwind…

  She drifted, dozing, daydreaming of Zachary Danvers and what it would be like to be his lover, to feel his strong arms upon her, to touch the naked muscles of his back, to kiss him with a wild abandon without any thought to the consequences, without any concern about her identity, to just love him sensually and totally and feel him straining above her, his body gleaming, his eyes dark with smoky passion and…

  Click!

  Her eyes flew open and she realized she’d been dreaming, asleep long enough for the water to grow tepid. She strained to listen. She’d heard something—the door?

  “Hello?” she said, reaching for a towel and standing. Her skin prickled with goose bumps and the air seemed chilled, colder than it should be. “Is anyone there?”

  No answer.

  And yet she sensed that someone had been close by.

  Heart thudding, she threw on one of the robes and slipped quietly into the bedroom. Nothing looked disturbed—her clothes were where she’d tossed them, her shoes near the closet. The French doors leading to the living area were ajar, but she hadn’t closed them. She walked into the sitting room where the furniture was arranged just as it had been when she’d walked in less than an hour earlier.

  The door was shut, but she hadn’t thrown the dead bolt.

  What does it matter?

  Whoever was in here—if someone had intruded—would be connected to the family. Your family. All part of the Danvers clan. With access to a key.

  “Stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered, and hooked the privacy chain that she’d forgotten.

  But why would anyone risk coming into her room?

  Is it really yours? How do you know it’s not set up with spy cameras? How do you know that someone isn’t looking at you right now, didn’t have a view of you lounging naked in the bathtub?

  “Stop it,” she whispered under her breath. This was paranoia talking, nothing more.

  Still, she eyed the ceiling and walls, checking for tiny cameras, her skin crawling at the thought of unseen eyes observing her. She’d been a fool to accept a room here—the old hotel had been so recently remodeled that it could be equipped with all sorts of spy devices. After all, she didn’t choose this room; it was chosen for her. By a member of the family.

  “Have a little trust,” she advised herself, but looked at the carpet, searching for footprints or tracks that someone else had been in the room. She couldn’t discern anything and after searching through the closet and finding nothing disturbed, she donned a pair of pajamas and slipped between the covers of the king-sized bed.

  Nothing was wrong.

  Nothing.

  Her imagination was just running away with her, that was all.

  But deep in her heart, she didn’t believe it. Not for a second.

  Zachary slung his bag over his shoulder. It was time to leave this town. Being in the same hotel with Adria, on the same damned floor, no less, was asking for trouble, big-time.

  It had been two nights since he’d last seen her and he’d been unable to close her out of his mind. He had plenty to keep him busy, still working out the kinks of this damned hotel, but he’d been tense, his muscles tightening when he thought he caught a glimpse of her or heard her voice. He was, slowly but surely, losing it. He’d never considered himself a fool, nor had he ever had any kind of death wish. He’d always thought clearly and known what he wanted.

  Until he’d met Adria.

  Whenever he was around her, his senses were on overload and his normally clear mind became muddied. She was beautiful, damned beautiful, and she looked so much like Kat he felt an icy drizzle of dèjá vu whenever he looked at her. Yet, mingled with that cold drip of memory was a flame of desire, melting away his inhibitions, heating his blood and causing him to lose sight of reality.

  Which was what?

  That she was really his half-sister?

  Or that she was a beautiful treacherous woman whose greed had blinded her to the truth? Had she used her uncanny resemblance to Kat for her personal gain, or did she really believe that she was London?

  Christ, what a mess! He hitched his bag up a notch and headed for the elevator. This time he was leaving, if only for a little while. He welcomed the three-hour drive over the mountains, was anxious to get back to the ranch. He needed time and space alone. Away from the enigma that was Adria Nash. Jason wouldn’t like it, but it didn’t really matter.

  In the parking lot, he threw his bag into the backseat and drove to Jason’s house in the west hills. His older brother had requested that he show up for a family meeting and Zach had decided he’d make an appearance, then drop the bomb that he was taking off. If only for a few days. He just needed a little time and space to get his head on straight again.

  The garage doors were open and Jason’s Jag was parked near his wife Nicole’s white Mercedes. In the third bay, a vintage Rolls-Royce gleamed glossy black under the lights. One of the men who did yard work and basic mechanics for the family was running a soft white rag along a sleek, spotless fender.

  Toys. Jason loved toys. From racehorses to classic cars, to rich wives and sexy young mistresses, Jason had always loved toys.

  Zach eyed the house where he’d grown up, tamped down any unwanted memories, rapped on the door with his knuckles, and waited. Within seconds Nicole opened the door and smiled wanly at her brother-in-law. A waif-thin woman with tanned skin and white-blond hair, she stepped out of the way. “Zachary.”

  “Is Jason here?”

  “In the basement.”

  “Good. I’ll see myself down,” he added, when she seemed intent on leading him down the stairs he’d played on as a kid.

  He and Nelson had slid down the staircase in cardboard boxes, raced each other up and down the steep steps, and been hauled downstairs whenever Witt wanted to discipline them. Witt, one hand on the back of Zach’s collar, the other clenched firmly around his belt, had dragged his second son down the stairs more times than Zach wanted to remember. Witt had seemed determined to break Zach’s spirit, and despite Eunice’s pleading to “go easy on the boy, Witt, he’s just a child,” Zach had felt the razor-sharp sting of Witt’s leather belt against the skin on his back time after time.

  “Shit,” he muttered as the memories and pain thundered through his brain. The beatings had been brutal, but had never broken Zach’s spirit. Clenching his teeth until his jaw ached, he shoved those hideous memories to the dark corners of his brain as he rounded the corner of the staircase.

  He found his older brother, shirtsleeves rolled over his forearms, throwing darts at a target mounted on the wall near the mirrored bar. A pool table dominated the room and a flagstone fireplace climbed up one wall. Through steamy French doors, a sauna and Jacuzzi waited, and on every wall hung trophies—the heads of bear, antelope, tiger, and bison, contributions from his grandfather, Julius Danvers, who’d prided himself on being a big-game hunter. A polar bear, claws extended, stood in one corner, and a zebra hide was stretched beside that of a kangaroo. Glassy eyes and snarling teeth greeted all who entered.

  “What did you find out?” Jason didn’t even look his way, just threw another dart toward the bull’s-eye.

  “From Adria? Not much.” Zach grabbe
d the cue ball and rolled it in his hands. His conversations with Adria had been minimal, but he did know a few facts. However, he wasn’t particularly interested in sharing them with Jason. “She grew up a poor farm girl in Montana. Her mother was kind of a religious nut and her father put up with it but wasn’t a fanatic.” He leaned a hip against the table. “She’s bound and determined to see this through no matter what the outcome.”

  “So it’s her personal quest.”

  Zach frowned and stared at the fire. “I think she’s just trying to find the truth.”

  Jason glanced at him, then threw a dart, hitting the target dead-on. “Sounds like you’re weakening where our new little-lost-sister is concerned.”

  “I still think she’s a fake.”

  “Of course she is.” He threw another dart and just missed the red bull’s-eye. “We’ll watch her and she’ll trip up.”

  “I’m going back to the ranch.”

  “Not now.”

  “Tonight.”

  A tic developed beneath Jason’s eye. “Can’t it wait? Manny seems to be more than capable—”

  “I’ll be back in a couple of days. I just need to do a few things. Check what’s going on at the ranch and in the office.”

  Jason looked about to argue, but held his tongue at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Trisha didn’t bother saying a word to either of her brothers, just ambled over to the bar and poured herself a straight shot of tequila. “Where’s Nelson?” she asked as she hoisted a hip onto the stool and sipped her drink.

  “He’ll be here.”

  “I heard Mother was invited, too.”

  “Hell,” Zach muttered, placing the cue ball back on the table.

  “She was included in the will,” Jason said.

  “Part of her deal with Dad when they divorced.”

  “Nonetheless, she counts.”

  “Christ.”

  Trisha motioned to the bar. “Maybe you need a drink, Zach?”

  “Not tonight.”

  She glanced at Jason. “And the girl’s coming, too?”

  Zach’s neck muscles bunched. “Adria? You invited her here?”

  Jason checked his watch. “She should be arriving any minute. Didn’t want to leave her out, you know. I thought maybe we could hammer out a deal and send her packing back to the farm.”

  “I don’t think so.” Zach was irritated. He didn’t want to see Adria again, didn’t want to smell her perfume or get lost in her eyes.

  “Look, even if she is a fraud, she looks too much like Kat to let it pass. The press will go crazy. There will be pictures in the paper—old photos of Kat put up against new ones of Adria. Comparisons are going to be made whether we like it or not and unfortunately, we all have to admit that the girl does look a lot like our late stepmother.”

  “I’m not admitting anything.” Trisha tossed back her drink and poured herself another. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “The newspapers and television reports are just the beginning. Then she’ll get herself a lawyer, a good lawyer who wants some notoriety, someone who’s willing to take a risk just to score big and get his face in the papers. A lot of attorneys are more interested in fame than money.”

  Trisha snorted.

  “Well, nearly as interested.”

  “So, what do you plan to do?” Zach asked, his gut twisting a little. Talking about Adria behind her back, plotting against her, bothered him more than it should have. Maybe Trisha was right, maybe he needed a beer.

  Jason’s lips curved into a smooth smile. “What’s the saying from The Godfather—I’m going to ‘make her an offer she can’t refuse’?”

  “There is none.”

  “I think a hundred grand will do it.”

  Trisha’s mouth fell open. “You’d give her that much?”

  “Not to begin with, of course. We’ll start low and try to intimidate her, but a hundred thousand isn’t much when you think of the cost of attorneys if we have to go to court. And think of all the time the estate will be tangled up in probate. It’s bad enough as it is—an estate this size takes forever.”

  “I bet the old man is sitting down in hell somewhere and laughing at us,” Trisha said, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke rings. “Imagine, leaving nearly fifty percent of his estate to a daughter he couldn’t find or didn’t even know if she was dead or alive. What a joke!”

  “Unless we have proof of her death,” Jason reminded them both. “Then her share of the inheritance can be divided among the rest of us.”

  Zach’s blood turned to ice as he noticed the cold hint of a smile curving Jason’s lips. Just how far would any of his siblings go to get their hands on Witt’s fortune? They all had their personal axes to grind. Jason loved money; Trisha had always wanted revenge against the family, and Nelson was ambitious to a fault.

  And what about you? You’re not exactly lily-white.

  As for his brothers and sister, he was certain they would like to get what they wanted, and they would surely steal. But would they kill? His back teeth gnashed silently and his fingers clenched involuntarily into fists.

  Trisha gulped from her drink and sighed. “Our father who art in hell. Truly one of the world’s great bastards.” She looked up sharply and her gaze met Zach’s. “No offense, Zach.”

  Zach let the comment slide. The questions about his paternity no longer rattled him. Who really gave a damn?

  “Just because he made a provision for London, doesn’t mean we can’t fight it,” Jason pointed out. “Haven’t you heard that wills are meant to be contested? We just have to prove that the old man was senile at the time he had the will drawn up. That shouldn’t be too hard. After all, who in his right mind would leave millions of dollars to a girl who had been missing for nearly twenty years?”

  “So why haven’t you done anything about it?” Trisha said, squinting through her smoke. “You’re the hotshot lawyer.”

  “Because Dad’s attorney will swear that the old man was as sane as you and I. Claims he’s got proof that Witt hadn’t lost any of his marbles.”

  “So it’s his word against ours.”

  Zach hated discussing the old man’s estate. It was necessary, of course; he wasn’t foolish enough or rich enough not to care, but he really wished he could just wash his hands of the whole family. Greedy vultures, that’s what they’d all become.

  And what about you? You’re here, aren’t you? Hoping to keep the ranch. Hell, what a mess. Then there was Adria. At the thought of her, his blood heated and he rubbed his chin in frustration. He didn’t like the idea of trying to buy Adria out, but he didn’t have a better plan.

  “So, the first order of business is getting rid of our latest London,” Jason said. “Send her packing and try to break the will.”

  “I don’t think she’ll go for it,” Zach said, his voice sounding a lot steadier than he felt. “It’s more a question of pride and truth than money with her.”

  Jason shook his head and rubbed his chin. “It’s always money, Zach. Haven’t you learned yet that everyone has a price? Even Ms. Nash. We just have to find what it is.”

  Zach heard noises on the stairs and his nerves tightened. He could feel Adria’s presence before she followed Nicole into the room. “Have you all met Adria?” Nicole said, forcing a smile on her tanned face.

  Adria didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. In fact, she looked as if she really did belong. Her hands were stuffed into pockets of a jean jacket trimmed in leather and she didn’t bother to smile. She slid a glance in Zach’s direction and he stiffened. For a second they stared at each other before she forced her eyes to meet Jason’s steady gaze. “I got a message that you wanted to see me.”

  “I did. Come in and have a seat—” He pointed to the grouping of leather furniture positioned near the fireplace. “Would you like a drink?”

  She hesitated for a heartbeat, but then she managed a thin smile. “Why not? Have you got any white wine? Chardonnay.”

  Jason m
oved to the bar, as if he were willing to do whatever she wanted. Zach considered leaving but before he could make his way to the door, footsteps sounded on the stairs and his mother and Nelson strolled into the room. Eunice took one look at Adria and for a split second her face drained of color, but she recovered herself. “So you’re Ms. Nash,” she said, extending her hand, though she appeared anything but friendly. Her eyes were cool, her mouth pinched at the corners, her skin stretched tightly over the bones of her face. “I’m Eunice Smythe.”

  Adria knew quite a bit about the woman whose fingers felt like dry parchment, but mostly she’d pieced together rumors. She would love to know the truth. There had been gossip that Witt had divorced Eunice because of infidelity with Polidori, though, of course, no one but Eunice knew the truth. Whatever had happened between Witt and his wife, it had cost Eunice. She’d been denied custody of her children in a time when a father’s rights were virtually ignored.

  “Well, Adria. Nelson tells me you think you’re Witt’s long-lost daughter.” Eunice’s smile was as cold as steel as she let go of Adria’s fingers.

  Jason handed Adria the glass of wine she really hadn’t wanted. She held the stem in a death grip. Her throat was suddenly dry, her fingers damp with sweat. “That’s why I’m here, yes,” Adria replied. “To find out the truth.”

  “The truth,” Eunice murmured as she studied Adria. “Sometimes so elusive.” Without so much as a sip, Adria set her drink on a nearby table. “So let’s get down to it, shall we?” Eunice settled into a cream-colored chair. “Nicole, would you be a dear and fix me a gin and tonic?” she asked her daughter-in-law, and when Nicole poured the drink and handed it to her, Eunice patted the younger woman’s slim arm. “That’s a good girl.”

  “Always,” Nicole replied in a brittle voice as she shot her husband a glance that would have cut through granite.

  Every muscle in Adria’s body was strung tight; tension was thick in the air and she didn’t know which was worse, being stared at by the dead animal heads mounted on the walls, or by the very living beasts that congregated around her. You asked for this, she reminded herself. You knew it would be tough, so just hang in there! Giving herself a mental shake, she sat on the edge of the couch, directly across the glass-topped coffee table from Eunice, and refused to give in to the impulse to stare at Zachary, to silently ask for his help.