Confessions

by Cynthia Eden

  But she had told.

  No one had believed her. The cops had thought that even with just one glass of wine, she’d simply lost her footing on the stairs. Especially when Ian had gotten his buddy to back up his account of that night.

  “Where is Ian now?”

  Her brows shot up. Don’t know. Don’t want to know. “It’s not like I kept up with him. Seeing him again was the last thing on my agenda.”

  “I’ll find him.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. “Grant...”

  “Someone tried to kill you!” There was the fury, biting through his words. “And Ian has a history of hurting you.” The faint lines near Grant’s eyes tightened. “I can’t let you get hurt again.”

  She swallowed. Her side didn’t ache this morning. The wound had been shallow, luckily, hardly more than a scratch, despite the pain she’d felt at the time. But if she hadn’t gotten away from that man... “Do you think he’ll come after me again?”

  Grant didn’t answer. But wait, maybe that silence was a response.

  “You won’t be alone again,” he promised.

  She wanted to believe him. “You can’t stay with me 24-7.” He had other clients. Family commitments. He couldn’t drop everything else in his life for her.

  “When I’m not with you, one of my brothers will be.”

  Not Sullivan. Maybe she could put in a request for the twins. Brodie had always been the most lighthearted of the McGuire bunch.

  “Until we catch this guy...” Grant’s hand rose and the back of his knuckles slid over her cheek. “The McGuires will keep you safe. I swear it.”

  She tried to lighten the desperate tension around them. “I’m going to owe you so much money when this is all over.”

  But his face hardened even more. “I already told you, don’t worry about the money. This isn’t about money.”

  Her gaze searched his. “Then what is it about?”

  “I want another chance.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Me. You. Us. I want us to try again.”

  She would have backed away, but there was no place to go. She was already pressed up against the wooden railing of the deck. “You decide this now?” Scarlett shook her head. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before or not, but you have horrible timing. Like, seriously, the worst timing in the world.” She was already guilt-stricken because she’d given in to her need and made love to him two months after Eric’s death. She’d broken up with Eric, but—

  “I’ve never wanted another woman the way I want you.”

  She gave a frantic shake of her head. Grant was trying to take them down a road she wasn’t ready to face, not then. “Someone tried to kill me!” She pushed past him. “I can’t handle this right now.”

  “You wanted me last night.”

  Her steps stumbled to a halt. “Grant, I pretty much always want you.” She didn’t look back at him. “That doesn’t mean I think we can make it together.” She hurried forward, heading into the house—and she wasn’t especially surprised to find Sullivan waiting in the den. She stumbled to a stop when she saw him. Worry whispered through her. Sullivan was so close to the back deck. Had he overhead them?

  “Guess you just let yourself in this time,” she finally muttered.

  He shrugged. His eyes swept over her. “Heard about the attack last night.” He took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She was far from okay. “I want to find this guy. I want to stop him.”

  “And then you want to get away from my brother?” His voice was low.

  Low enough that Grant didn’t overhear? He was still outside, just a few steps behind her.

  “Stop telling him my secrets,” Scarlett hissed.

  But Sullivan shook his head. He lifted a newspaper that she hadn’t even noticed in his grip. “Everyone’s learning your secrets now.”

  She took the paper from him, too conscious of Grant now that he’d followed her inside. Scarlett unfolded the paper. The headline was big and bold: Scarlett Stone...Murderer or Victim?

  Last night, she’d just been the victim. A photographer had captured an image of her, held tightly in Grant’s arms. She looked as if she’d been crying.

  I had been.

  Her gaze scanned over the article. The reporter had identified Grant. Mentioned him as being both the PI who was intent on proving her innocence and...

  Scarlett Stone’s high school sweetheart.

  Her fingers tightened on the paper.

  Reports indicate that Stone was once pregnant with McGuire’s child.

  She shoved the paper back at Sully. “Isn’t there such a thing as patient-doctor confidentiality? How did they learn that?”

  “Secrets have a way of getting out.” Grant’s voice was flat.

  Fury pumped through her. If Sully hadn’t already told Grant the truth, then Grant would have just discovered one of her most painful secrets by reading about it in the morning paper.

  Humiliating. Infuriating.

  Sullivan was a slightly rougher version of Grant. His eyes were wilder, his hair dark where Grant’s was light, and a graze of stubble already lined his jaw—testament to the long night he must have pulled. With his eyes still on her, he lifted one brow and said, “So if you have any more secrets, now is the time to tell them.”

  The McGuires already seemed to know everything.

  “Because someone is fixated on you,” Sullivan continued, “and if we don’t figure out who he is, then the guy will just keep coming.”

  Until I’m dead?

  The chill she’d felt for so long deepened even more.

  * * *

  PREGNANT?

  Scarlett Stone had been pregnant with Grant’s child? Rage clawed at his insides.

  She was so conniving. Making the world think she was perfect. A victim.

  When no, she was the one who’d been destroying lives for so long. The one who needed to be stopped.

  I will stop her.

  The image of her and Grant McGuire filled the paper. She looked weak. Delicate. As if she needed someone to protect her.

  Lie. Lie. Lie.

  That was all Scarlett did. She manipulated men. Tricked them. Made them think that she needed them.

  She used them up, and when she was done...

  Scarlett just walked away.

  You won’t walk away this time.

  She wouldn’t be getting away at all. If jail wasn’t in her future...

  Then death is waiting.

  * * *

  “I THINK I’M getting far too used to this place,” Scarlett murmured as she stared up at the police station. “My home away from home.” But Grant realized there was no humor in those grim words.

  Only sadness.

  Shayne had called him. Asked him to come in with Scarlett once more. There were more questions that the detective wanted to ask.

  Always more.

  Scarlett’s lawyer hurried to greet them.

  Pierce took Scarlett’s hands as his eyes slid over her. His gaze was dark with concern. “You should have called me,” he said. “Right away.” The guy was clinging a little too tightly to her. “I didn’t find out about your attack until this morning!” Anger sharpened his words.

  Grant’s eyes narrowed. “She was busy recovering from her attack.” He pushed the lawyer back.

  “But...but I can use this.” Pierce huffed out a breath. “She’s attacked, Eric is killed, Louis East is knifed...this is a pattern. Further proof that Scarlett is innocent!”

  Pierce Jennings was supposed to be the best criminal defense attorney in Austin. Based on his court records, the guy sure excelled at getting freedom for his clients.

  But Pierc
e didn’t seem to actually care if his clients were innocent or guilty. Grant knew of several guilty men that had walked, thanks to Pierce. He and the attorney had butted heads a few times in the past, and Grant knew that they would clash again in the future.

  I care too much if the guilty walk.

  Pierce...he was just doing his job.

  “We should go inside,” Grant muttered. “The detectives are waiting—”

  “Scarlett Stone!” It was a roar of fury.

  Grant whirled around at the cry. He saw Justin Turner staggering across the street. Car horns blared at the guy.

  Justin ignored them. His eyes were on Scarlett.

  “This isn’t good,” Pierce said, his nasally voice sharpening.

  No, it wasn’t good.

  Because there was rage in Justin’s eyes. His face was bright red and his trembling hands were clenched at his sides.

  The guy didn’t look like the buttoned-down, controlled lawyer any longer. He looked enraged.

  And he was heading right for Scarlett.

  Grant stepped in front of her. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told him.

  “Why not?” Justin weaved a bit. Drinking...again? It was barely 8:00 a.m. “The cops called me. Wanted to talk to m-me.” His eyes raked over Grant. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be here, but I guess you just have to stay at her side, right? Seeing as how you two are so...cl-close.”

  “I’m going to get Detective Townsend,” Pierce said, as he turned and hurried up the steps. Leaving them out there.

  Leaving Grant to face the man’s rage.

  “I read the story in the paper,” Justin snarled. “You two were l-lovers before. And you’re right back with her now, aren’t you?”

  Grant raised his hands and stepped toward the guy. “You need to calm down.”

  Justin knocked them aside. “You need to wake up! Don’t you s-see what she’s doing? She’s using you. She’s setting this all up to m-make herself look like a victim!” His words were stuttering, slurred.

  “Justin...” Scarlett’s voice was soft. “I’m so very sorry about Eric—”

  “Shut up! Don’t you say his name to me!” Justin shouted, then tried to attack her.

  Grant wasn’t letting that happen. He grabbed the other man, twisted him around, and in an instant, he had Justin’s arms pinned behind him. Justin was heaving and shouting, trying to break free, but Grant wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

  He’d handled men a hundred times stronger than Justin back in his ranger days. There was no way this guy was going to wrestle free from him.

  The police station’s main doors flew open. Shayne and two uniformed cops rushed down the steps.

  Grant put his mouth near Justin’s ear. “Don’t come at her again. I won’t just hold you back next time. I’ll be the one attacking you.”

  As the words sank in, Justin stopped struggling. His head turned and his eyes locked with Grant’s.

  Satisfied that his message had been received, Grant let him go. The cops were there. Eric’s brother would know better than to attack with those particular witnesses.

  “It was you,” Justin whispered, as if he’d just come to some grand realization.

  Grant edged back toward Scarlett. Her lawyer had sure cut and run fast enough. Way to abandon your client.

  “I thought...I thought she’d done it.”

  Shayne closed in on Justin, who was really weaving now.

  “But it was you. You wanted her b-back. So you killed my brother. Did you kill Louis East, too? That PI who was in the p-paper?”

  Shayne took his arm. “You’re drunk. I can barely understand a word you’re saying and you smell like you bathed in booze.”

  “Did the—did the PI know? Did East know? Is that why you took him out?”

  Grant just shook his head. His gaze met Shayne’s. “You need to put him in the drunk tank. He came at Scarlett, tried to hurt her.”

  “But you stopped me. You’re always there with her, aren’t you?” Justin pointed at Grant. “It was y-you!”

  “Scarlett was attacked last night,” Shayne said flatly, as he motioned to the other cops to close in on the man.

  “Bet he did it,” Justin said, his eyes bright now. “Bet he did it to make her scared...to m-make her think she needed him.” He was laughing as the uniformed cops led him up the steps. “You’re trusting the wrong guy, Scarlett! The wrong one!”

  Shayne shook his head as he watched Justin disappear into the station. “So much for interviewing him. I’ll have to wait until he sobers up.” His gaze slid to Scarlett. “Does he do that a lot?”

  “Accuse me of killing his brother? Yes, lots of people accuse me of killing Eric.” Her shoulders straightened even as her chin notched up a bit. “He’s wrong. They’re all wrong.”

  Shayne absorbed that. And based on the gleam in his eyes, Grant thought the guy might just be on Scarlett’s side.

  “Are you okay?” Pierce asked her, sounding out of breath. Probably from all that running up and down the stairs. Running away from the threat.

  “Fine.” Scarlett’s voice was clipped. “Can we just go inside before some reporter starts filming all of this, too?”

  “Right.” Shayne stepped forward. “I’ve got some information that I thought you might want to hear.”

  They were silent as they made their way up the steps and into an interrogation room. Grant could still hear Justin hurling accusations across the police station. Only they weren’t against Scarlett any longer.

  They’re against me.

  Shayne shut the door behind them and sealed their group in the small room. “You know that when Eric Turner was killed, we believed his attacker used a vase to hit him over the head, to subdue him so that he fell to the floor before the killer stabbed him.”

  Scarlett flinched.

  “Why are we having this little recap?” Pierce demanded. “If you’re wasting our time...”

  “I’m not wasting your time,” Shayne rushed to assure him.

  Pierce didn’t appear convinced. “Because I’ve already got my own medical examiner going back over Eric Turner’s case file. He thinks the stab wounds are consistent with a right-handed attacker, and since we’ve established that Scarlett is left-handed—”

  “Take a breath,” Shayne told the lawyer.

  Pierce’s eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared.

  “Thank you,” Shayne muttered. “Look, the prosecutor is working to get the case against Scarlett dismissed.”

  She gave a little gasp.

  “I’m sure you’ll be talking with the prosecutor plenty,” Shayne told the lawyer. “But first, I have to deal with the fact that a killer has recently attacked three times here in my town. He went after Eric, he killed East and he got too close to Scarlett last night.”

  “You think it’s the same perp,” Grant said flatly.

  Shayne nodded. His gaze sharpened on Scarlett. “I need you to walk me through every moment of that attack again, Scarlett.”

  “I already told you everything—three times!”

  “The attacker isn’t stopping. He’s escalating.” Shayne tapped his fingers on the table. “Think about the attack. Did he say anything?”

  “He never said a word!” Then her eyelids flickered. “But he laughed. When I tried to fight him, he laughed at me.”

  Grant couldn’t take his eyes off Scarlett.

  “I remember thinking that I’d heard him laugh before.”

  Shayne jumped on that. “You know him?”

  “I don’t... His laugh was familiar, or at least it seemed familiar, but...” She shook her head. “No, I can’t place it. I don’t know him.”

  “When you first saw the guy in your bedroom, you thought he was Grant. That’s what y
ou told me last night.” He paused. “Why’d you think it was him?”

  Her gaze met Grant’s. “Because Grant had used the fire escape earlier. He’d been with me when I went to sleep, and I just thought that was him, coming back.” Her fingers lightly touched the bandage beneath her shirt. “The guy had big shoulders, broad like Grant’s. He was about Grant’s height.”

  “And you knew it wasn’t Grant when...?”

  “When he lunged for me. He grabbed my leg. His grip hurt.” Her voice softened when she said, “Grant would never hurt me like that.”

  “Who would hurt you?” Shayne asked carefully.

  It was the same question that Grant wanted answered.

  But he already had suspects of his own. Ian Lake.

  And Justin Turner.

  “Start at the beginning,” Shayne said as he pulled out a chair. “Tell me about the attack. Every single detail.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU CERTAIN that you feel safe with him?” Pierce asked Scarlett, as they stood on the steps of the police precinct. His eyes were on Grant, who had just pulled his SUV around for Scarlett. He’d stopped the vehicle at the curb.

  “What?” She certainly hadn’t expected that question from him. “Of course, I feel safe with Grant.”

  A faint line appeared between her lawyer’s brows. “The man has quite a reputation.”

  She wasn’t sure what that meant.

  “And Justin Turner seemed to think Grant could be the man responsible for those attacks.”

  She laughed. The sound held no humor. “Justin also thought I was responsible. He’s drinking too much. Looking to blame someone for what happened to his brother.” Scarlett shook her head. “But Grant isn’t the killer.”

  She started to walk down the last few steps.

  “But he is a killer.”

  Scarlett paused and looked back at Pierce.

  “I can see it in his eyes,” her lawyer said softly. “It’s a look I’ve encountered before, with other clients.” He closed the distance between them. “That look tells me that they’ve crossed the line. Given in to the dark.”

  She tilted her head. “You never asked me if I was innocent or guilty.” She’d actually been surprised that he’d agreed to take her case. He’d been Eric’s friend, not hers, but when she’d called him from jail, he’d agreed to represent her.