Randi nodded. “The really sad thing is that he wasn’t supposed to be at the courtroom that day.”
Detective Ingram raised a surprised brow. “He wasn’t?”
“No, and I bet that isn’t in the report.”
“Then why was he there?” Detective Ingram asked, clearly perplexed.
“Last-minute change. The reporter who should have covered the trial called in sick.”
“Oh. And was he? Really sick?”
Randi chuckled lightly. It seemed the detective assumed Randi’s psychic powers could tell her practically anything. “Now, that I don’t know, but if he was, then being sick saved his life.” She continued walking around a minute and then she suddenly stopped and closed her eyes.
“Is something wrong, Dr. Fuller?”
She opened her eyes. “No, nothing is wrong,” she lied. Yes, something is wrong. She could feel it but decided not to say anything at the moment. However, there were a few things she would share with the detective. “The killer is definitely a male. Right-handed. Loner. Already he’s preparing to kill again.”
“Think you’ll solve this before he does?”
Randi looked over at her. “I never solve crimes, Detective Ingram. I use my psychic abilities to assist you guys. I’m merely an investigative instrument.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s the only way to look at it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
IT WAS QUITE obvious Margo’s question had caught Roland and Frazier Connelly by surprise. Striker studied the two men, noticing how quiet the room had gotten. He wondered how she’d figured things out and couldn’t wait for her to tell them. He took a sip of his coffee, thinking things were about to get interesting.
“Uncle Frazier?” she asked, when no one said anything.
Connelly looked uncomfortable and loosened his tie. “Why would you think we’re related?”
Margo smirked. “So, now you want to convince me you’re not?” She switched her gaze to Roland. “Would someone tell me something?”
“How about answering my question, Margo? Why would you think we’re related?” Frazier asked her.
Margo shook her head as a stilted laugh escaped her lips. “Have the two of you ever stood side by side and looked into the mirror?” Her statement made the two men glance at each other. Striker also took a good look.
When they didn’t say anything, she said, “When Roland walked in the house with Quasar, he immediately reminded me of someone. And when I saw the two of you standing together I realized who it was. He favors Dad. And then I knew there was no way the two of you weren’t related.”
When the silence continued, she asked, “So what’s going on? Is there some family secret that I don’t know about?”
Frazier drew in a slow breath before he finally said, “I’m embarrassed to say you’re right.”
Striker could tell Connelly’s comment didn’t sit well with Roland. Taking offense, Roland turned to Frazier and snapped, “Don’t make me tell you what you can do with your damn embarrassment.”
Roland got up from the table, but Frazier said, “Please sit back down, Roland. You misunderstood what I meant. I wasn’t saying you were an embarrassment but that my treatment of you has been.”
Striker saw the surprised look on Roland’s face. He wasn’t sure what had Roland sliding back down in his chair—Connelly asking him to or his shock at Connelly’s words. Striker glanced over at Margo, and he could tell from her expression that she was probably wondering the same thing.
Deciding coffee was in order, Striker silently went over to the counter and poured two cups, which he then placed before the two men. He knew Roland took his black and shouldn’t have been surprised when Frazier did as well. Striker then sat back down. By rights, he knew he should leave since this was a family discussion. But since he knew the entire story anyway, he decided to stay put. Besides, Margo hadn’t asked him to leave. Whether she realized it or not, the fact that she hadn’t meant that she trusted him to a degree he found a bit overwhelming. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone, besides the men he worked with closely, had displayed that much confidence in him, and it meant a lot.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Yes,” Connelly finally said. “It’s about time you knew.”
Margo studied the two men. Had she really tapped into some family secret? What she’d told them earlier was the truth. They favored each other. Had no one ever pointed that fact out to them? Had they met before Uncle Frazier hired Roland’s firm?
“It seems,” her uncle Frazier started off by saying, “that my old man lived a double life...which I never suspected. He was so dedicated to Mom and all. It was only when he died that Murdock, Mom and I found out differently. His attorney advised us that someone by the name of Roland Summers had been notified to attend the reading of the will, but he wouldn’t tell us why.”
He paused a minute before continuing. “We found out the truth when Roland walked into the conference room. My father had been having an affair. An affair that had resulted in another son. It was hard to believe. Hard to stomach. Mom was furious and I was furious right along with her and we treated Roland awfully.”
Margo nodded. She could recall very little of her grandmother, who’d died of a heart attack a few years before Margo’s parents’ deaths. But she’d heard that Audrey Connelly had been quite a character. A pampered, spoiled and selfish debutante. On the other hand, she’d heard nothing but admirable qualities about her grandfather. She could imagine how his affair must have come as a shock. And to learn he’d had an illegitimate child had probably been too much for her grandmother. For any woman. But that was no excuse for the behavior she was hearing about now. It hadn’t been Roland’s fault. “How old was everyone?”
Roland took a sip of coffee and then spoke up. “I was eighteen and in my first year of college.”
Frazier tacked on, “I was twenty-five and had recently taken over running Connelly Enterprises after Dad’s early retirement. He’d always said he would step down and enjoy life when I could take over. Murdock was twenty-three and just finishing law school. He had married your mother the year before.”
Frazier paused a minute and then said, “Mom didn’t want to believe it and tried blocking what Dad bequeathed Roland, which was a sizable trust fund. I guess Dad anticipated she would make such a move and had hired some of the best attorneys to protect Roland’s interest so she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
Frazier took another sip of his coffee. “Mom became bitter, broken and vicious toward Roland and his mother.” He then turned to face Roland. “What I’m embarrassed about, Roland, is that I allowed her to do that. I also allowed her feelings to affect me. I saw accepting you as my brother as being disloyal to Mom.”
Margo nodded. “What about Dad? Did he feel the same way you did?”
Frazier shook his head and smiled slightly. “No. In fact, Murdock took the position that I should have taken as the oldest. He felt Roland was not to blame for our father’s indiscretions, and that Mom and I were treating him unfairly. No matter what Mom and I said, Murdock did not let us keep him from reaching out to Roland, establishing a place in his life as his brother.”
Good for him, Margo thought. She’d always known her father was a special man, one who wouldn’t let his mother rule him. She’d heard about her father standing up to his mother when she disapproved of his marriage to Margo’s mother.
“I’m surprised Dad didn’t tell me about you at some point,” she said to Roland.
Roland hadn’t said anything while Uncle Frazier spoke but had sat there listening, studying the contents in his coffee cup. Finally he glanced over at Margo and said, “He wanted to, but I advised him n
ot to. Although Murdock wasn’t ashamed that I was his brother, I didn’t want to be the cause of any more trouble in the Connelly family. I figured he could tell you about me when you got older and could understand and accept things.”
But that time never came because of her parents’ deaths, Margo thought. She was suddenly filled with deep emotions. Roland Summers was her uncle. And just like her father had claimed him, she would as well.
“So, as my newest uncle, what’s your take on all of this? Regarding how shabbily you were treated by the Connellys?”
Roland stared at her, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes, I am my father’s daughter. Even Uncle Frazier will attest to that.”
“Yes, I will,” Frazier said, grinning, reaching over and tugging on a lock of her hair.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s all in the past,” Roland said.
Frazier turned again to Roland and, with a serious expression on his face, said, “I can’t undo how Mom and I treated you, but I can and will say I’m sorry about it. I was wrong to get angry with Murdock when he—” Uncle Frazier paused and quickly glanced at Margo “—when he helped you out that time. I don’t blame you for anything.” He stood from the table. “Will you accept my apology?”
Roland looked at Frazier’s outstretched hand and then he stood as well and took it. “Yes, apology accepted.”
Margo had a feeling there was more she didn’t know. When had her father helped Roland out and what didn’t her uncle Frazier blame him for? She’d discovered so much today that maybe it was best if she didn’t push. It was obviously an emotional topic for her uncles. She wanted to savor this good news on a day that had brought so much bad already. And she trusted they would tell her in their own time.
Striker hadn’t said anything. Considering his relationship with Roland, she wondered if he’d known. If he did that would certainly explain his intense desire to protect her and his reluctance to be intimately involved with her.
A part of her appreciated Striker for choosing that moment to speak up and get things back on track by asking, “So, what’s the plan regarding relocating Margo?”
Both men sat back down. “Our family owns a ski cabin in Jackson Hole, Wyoming,” her uncle Frazier said.
“That can easily be traced if it’s listed anywhere as part of your family’s assets. Until we know whether or not the assassin is working alone or with someone, I’d rather we didn’t take any chances,” Roland replied, rubbing his jaw in thought.
He looked over at Margo and Striker. “I’ll have a plan in place within ten hours and will need the two of you ready to move out when you’re contacted. In the meantime, stay on your guard.”
* * *
STRIKER CLOSED AND locked the door after the two men left. He turned and watched Margo remove all the trash from the kitchen table. She wasn’t saying anything, and he couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking. A lot of stuff had been dumped on her today. And something of vast importance had been revealed about her family. He had admired her attitude and easy acceptance of Roland.
“Need my help?” he asked her.
Without bothering to even look up at him, she said, “No, I’ve got this.”
Did she really? For some reason, he didn’t think so. He rubbed his cheek as he continued to watch her and had a strong feeling that Roland had picked up on something going on between them.
Surprisingly, the possibility of Roland figuring things out didn’t bother Striker. Although there was no set policy about getting involved with a client, Roland would expect him to use his best judgment in such matters. Given the degree of danger surrounding Margo’s situation, Striker knew his mind should be focused on keeping her safe and not having sex with her. But some things couldn’t be helped and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried resisting temptation. The attraction between them had been too strong not to give in to it. It was either that or they’d have eventually driven themselves crazy with lust.
Sometimes “one and done” was the best rule. However, with them it hadn’t been a rule he’d stuck to...considering what had happened in her shower this morning. The memory of him taking her there made his erection swell. And each time she’d screamed his name had made him want to thrust into her even more. Made him want to brand her as his.
Damn it to hell. How could he even think of something like that? He didn’t want to brand any woman. All he’d ever wanted was a good roll between the sheets with one. Yet, with Margo, things weren’t the norm.
He couldn’t fight this ache he was feeling for her. Nor could he deny that he wanted her even now—hell, even while sitting across from her at the kitchen table with her uncles. He’d studied her whenever she’d talked. More than once he’d caught his gaze lingering on her mouth, as he remembered how sweet it had tasted. Then his eyes had drifted to her chest, as he’d recalled how he’d sucked on her nipples. He doubted Frazier had noticed him staring, but he would be surprised if Roland hadn’t.
Her frustrated sigh recaptured his attention, and he rubbed his cheek again. They had been sharing space long enough for him to know whenever something was bothering her. He should let it go and let her deal with it on her own, but for him that was easier said than done. “Do you want to talk about it, Margo?”
“About what?”
“Whatever is bothering you.”
She paused and looked over at him, and the eyes staring back at him were soft yet troubled. He slowly crossed the room, took the garbage bag out of her hand and pulled her into his arms.
To hold her. To protect her.
At that moment Striker knew he was asking for trouble because he liked holding her too damn much. And he liked making love to her even more. Why hadn’t he told Roland that someone else needed to protect her from here on out? Because he couldn’t do that. And then she’d made it clear she wanted him to protect her if she was relocated elsewhere. Knowing she was willing to put her life in his hands had done something to him. It was still doing something to him.
There were times when a man had to do what he felt in his gut that he had to do. Even if that gut was filled with a need and desire that could render his senses off kilter. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.
She pulled back and looked up at him. “Talk about what? The fact that I have to leave my home and go into hiding to heaven-knows-where, or the fact that I discovered today that I have an uncle that I didn’t know about.”
He would listen to anything she needed to get off her chest. Since she’d asked, he decided discussing the issue of her uncles could prove more positive for her in the long run. And he wanted her to have a positive outlook. “Is having another uncle such a bad thing?”
“Of course not,” she said, as if surprised by his question. “Uncle Frazier took my father’s death hard, and I wish he could have shared that grief with my uncle Roland.”
Her uncle Roland. It still amazed Striker just how accepting she was of Roland’s place in her life. There were a number of things she didn’t know yet; one was Roland’s suspicion that the fire that had killed her parents had been deliberate. “Thanks to you, Margo, the healing between Frazier and Roland has started to take place, and that’s a good thing.”
She appeared to think about what he’d said for a minute and then asked, “You knew, didn’t you? That they were brothers.”
Standing so close to her like this had his erection throbbing. An erection she had to feel—there was no way she couldn’t. Instead of taking a step back, he tightened his arms around her and brought her closer. “Yes, I knew. Roland told me everything before I took this job.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” she said accusingly.
“I had no reason to tell you. You were just a job.”
She stared at him, and he wondered what she saw in his eyes that made her ask her next question. “And n
ow? Am I just a job, Striker?”
He could say yes, that was all she was and that sleeping with her, being inside her body, learning her intimate taste, meant nothing. That she was no different than any other woman he’d had sex with. But he knew that would be a bald-faced lie. It was different with her. Although he didn’t want to dwell on what that difference was, it was there.
So he decided to be honest. “No, you’re not just a job, Margo. Not anymore. You are more than that.”
And because he knew how her mind worked, was familiar with those nosy bones in her body, before she could ask he said, “And the reason I don’t see you as just a job is because last night was a game changer. I’ve gotten to know you.” Boy, have I gotten to know you. “Now you’re also a woman I want.” There, he’d said it. She knew where he stood.
The smile she gave him at that moment was well worth his honesty. Striker knew he had to shift gears, make sure they remained focused on the real problem at hand. “Whenever Roland calls and gives the word, we need to be ready to go. There’s no way you can set up shop where we’re going, but I’m sure there are a few smaller items you might want to gather out of your workroom to take with you.”
“Do you have any idea where we’re going?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t have a clue. But Roland will make sure it’s safe and not some place anyone could easily find. It’s going to be important that no one knows your location.”
She nodded. “At least you’ll be there to protect me.”
Yes, he definitely would be. And like he’d told her before, he would protect her with his life if he had to. But now those words were beginning to have more meaning for him.
He stared down into her face as his hands left her waist and slid down to cup her backside. Striker knew he needed to get a grip on his mind and not necessarily on her ass, but damn, touching her right there felt so good. And it was obvious from the look on her face that she liked him touching her there too.
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