Blake looked to the ceiling and ran his hand through his thick hair. “Knowing that is supposed to motivate you to stay away from him—not work with him.”
“I am,” I growled in frustration. “I’m not working with him. I’m not walking away from you or what we have. I’m not just taking his word for it. I did a reading before I left the townhouse and I saw where he thought about them, he thought of my father and grandfather as though they were alive.”
He stared out the window and shook his head. The familiar lines of his face did nothing to comfort me as they usually did. I wasn’t used to us being on opposite sides of such an important issue, and the rift between us clung too closely to my heart.
“What if I contacted William to help me with this? I might be able to locate the whereabouts of the Gardner art while I help my family. He would protect me.”
“Addie, this is a bad idea.”
Blake’s searing glance fell hard on me. I turned away, raised my hand to the window until the cool chilled my skin. “I could do this. And I know what I’ve seen about my father and grandfather is right.”
“No, it’s too risky.” Now he was resolute.
“You’re telling me I can’t help my family?” My heart thudded against my chest with a stuttered ache.
“No, I’m telling you you can’t align yourself with Otto.”
I leaned back onto the soft, cool leather of the seat, and tried to console myself that Blake was just protecting me. “I won’t ignore my family when they need my help. Any more than I would ignore you if you needed my help.”
We stared at one another, at an impasse. I wasn’t going to back down from this. Apparently Blake wasn’t, either, and I hadn’t felt this far away from Blake since before we’d met.
Though I thought we were on our way to his apartment, the car stopped in front of the building where his gallery was located. The streets were quieting at this time of day, in this area of the city.
“I need to pick up some papers,” he said and dodged my glance. “We should stay together. Just in case.” He looked out all windows. And then finally at me.
“Blake.” I drew in a breath. My mouth opened, as if I could find the right words to say. Then I closed it again.
“Let’s hurry.” Blake moved away from me and out of the car. Blake avoided the elevator bank in the lobby and we climbed several flights of stairs to his gallery, instead. He unlocked the front door of his gallery and we headed down the marble hallway toward his office in silence.
“No, no. Put that down,” a woman’s familiar voice said from Blake’s office. We hurried down the rest of the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” Blake’s voice was edged with an anger I thought he’d reserved for our argument.
Anya, his assistant, turned to face us. The front tips of her raven-black hair graced her collar bones. Her hair did a breezy dance when she tossed it with a confident shake of her head, and she cast a cool and familiar suspicious once-over at me. Blake rushed over to kiss her cheek and jealousy clenched my heart in a death squeeze. I crossed my arms in front of me and conjured the best smile I could.
“Just organizing some things,” Anya said. “I was too worried to sit at home.”
“I told you not to come in.” Blake pointed his finger at her, his tone more serious than angry, now. “You’re going home.” He crossed the room to the corner. “You can have those, but be careful with them, buddy. They could be valuable one day.”
“What do you say, Tristan?” Anya’s voice rose an octave.
“Thank you,” a tiny voice finally said. The words sounded big in his mouth.
I moved further into the office to see who the child’s voice belonged to. Blake picked up a dark-haired young boy of about two years, wearing blue jean overalls, and holding baseball trading cards tight in his grasp. He and Blake were nearly a mirror image of one another. My skin flared with heat and red.
No one got those light blue eyes unless they were gifted genetically. And the child’s genetic donor appeared to be right there in the room with him. I couldn’t believe Blake hadn’t yet told me, and I dreaded the answer that would come when I asked the question. Because as much as I wanted a future with Blake, I really didn’t want one with Anya.
“You should see a doctor,” Anya said cautiously. She inspected his neck and stroked it with her thumb. “I don’t know what we’d do if something happened to you.”
I knew I wasn’t handling this encounter gracefully and I worked hard to restrain myself. I considered it a huge success that I didn’t smack her hand away from his face.
“Go home and stay there.” Blake kissed Anya again, then ushered her toward the door.
Anya’s grimace raised her cheekbones into what could have been mistaken as a smile. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“I’ll bet,” I whispered. I pressed my lips together in a smile when Anya and the little boy passed by. Apparently it was “take your son to work day,” and there were still things I needed to learn about Blake Greenwood and his past.
Anya’s heels clicked noisily down the hallway.
“Is that Anya’s son?” I asked quietly.
Blake nodded with a smile then stepped into the hallway and waved.
The little boy waved over his mother’s shoulder in return.
“If he’s also your son, I should know,” I said when we stepped inside his office. This was another complication of knowing Blake was the love of my life before we’d ever dated or gotten to know one another. Cart before the horse, as usual. I never had time to get to know someone before I knew too much about them.
“What? No. Addie—”
“The child has your eyes,” I said firmly.
“He has good genes,” Blake said sharply and rolled his eyes. “Anya is my sister. Half-sister.” He partly circled his desk then rummaged through a filing cabinet stuffed full of folders.
“Your sister,” I murmured. Jealousy relaxed her grip on my heart and I took my first deep breath in several minutes. “She’s not related to Otto, is she?”
“No. Thank God.” Blake stuck a folder under his arm, then opened a drawer, collected a ring of keys, and stuffed them into his front pocket.
My anger waned into a sense of supreme stupidity while the puzzle pieces snapped into place. Blake’s omnipresent affection for Anya: a brother protecting his sister. Anya’s surly manner toward me at the gallery were of a sister protecting her brother.
Apparently I was Queen of the Half-Story.
“Carolena decided that if she couldn’t be close to me in New York, that she’d have a representative who would. She’s overprotective.” Blake still managed to avoid looking directly at me. I wondered how long he’d keep me banished to the hell of exile.
“Who? Carolena or Anya?” I asked unnecessarily. I felt a prickling on the back of my neck and I rubbed at it.
“Both,” Blake said. He jingled the keys in his pocket. “Let’s go.”
“I guess it travels down the family tree,” I muttered.
“What?” Blake asked.
The sensation on my neck intensified and a cool breeze brushed across my cheek. I turned just in time to see Frank drift toward me with an etheric glass of whiskey in his hand. My chest tightened when he slithered behind me, ran a cold finger across my neck, then stood in front of me. His eyes were two dark slices of night. The result of no conscience, I was sure.
“Lovers quarrel, huh?” Frank asked. “I see Otto is working his magic between the two of you.” He reached forward, his cold hand running up and down my neck. I leaned away.
“Back off, Frank.” Blake walked between us.
Frank glided away with his hands in the air.
When he stopped he stood with his hands on his hips, his damnable grin rife with secrets. “You’re about to get a visitor.”
Chapter 14
Several pairs of shoes beat a swift pace against the marble floors of Blake’s gallery. My body and soul jerked ha
rd at the energy that preceded them.
“It’s Otto,” I said.
“Sit down.” Blake pushed me energetically and my body did as it was told. He stretched across his desk and came back with a gun from the rear drawer, then spun to the front edge of his desk and sat casually, the gun at his side. We exchanged a glance—he exuded impossible calm in repose. He gave me a low hand signal to stay put and keep it together. I tightened my midsection to stem the rising terror.
The footsteps slowed while they neared. Their echo carried down the empty hallway. Blake’s expression was simultaneously alert and steady.
Otto appeared in the doorway. The terror within me nearly broke free at the sight of him.
“Blake.” His voice was all silk and cordial, like he’d been invited. It was an effective front, under normal circumstance. “I hoped we might catch you in residence.”
“Otto.” Sharp-edged instinct filled the air. Blake moved nary a muscle.
They faced one another like alpha wolves. Both were here to win.
Otto cast a quick and malevolent glance around the room. First to the gun¸ then to me. I sat stock-still on the couch. Afraid to move. Unable to breathe.
Two men edged around either side of Otto, guns in their hands. Blond curls twirled from under the cap of the man who faced me. The other man had long dark hair that was slicked straight back. He fixed his eyes on Blake then licked his lips when he moved toward him.
“That’s far enough.” Blake pushed them energetically when the men attempted to spread across the room. His countenance warned them not to cross him, unless they were ready to die. A bit of their strength and intent disappeared. They stopped and assumed the fig leaf position with a wide stance, guns in front.
Otto pushed Blake to back down as hard as Blake pushed the three men to drop their guns and leave. No one moved and the tension in the room stretched taut. Like two hands from the same body pressing against one another, Otto and Blake were equally matched and I didn’t think either one would make much more progress this way.
Otto studied Blake with narrowed eyes. He neither knew that Blake was his son, nor that he had the ability to push. I thought he might clue in to the latter after today. Otto swiveled to my direction. “I guess you’re feeling better, Addie?”
“Not yet.” I forced myself to meet and hold Otto’s stare. Even though it left me weak and hollow.
“I don’t know if she mentioned it, but Addie and I ran into one another this morning. She’s considering an offer I made her.” Otto’s eyes locked on mine and my body curled away from it as if from a violent invasion. There was no doubt in my mind that he planned to leave here with me. His prize, his trophy. The only question was if he would let Blake live.
“She mentioned it,” Blake said.
Otto pushed me to walk over to him, and the need to meet him across the room compelled me. It seemed the safest thing to do. For me, for Blake. My foot took a step as though a string lifted it in Otto’s direction. With fists clenched tight I caught myself and my body lurched forward. My throat closed in on itself. I switched my gaze to Blake for strength. His eyes had regained their steely edge, and he was eager for a reason to shoot. I wished him to, but with two guns against one, that was obviously ill-advised.
“She’ll be in touch as soon as she’s fully recovered.” His attention tightened on Otto but I knew he tracked the other men for the slightest movement. “Did you come for a reason? We have a busy evening ahead of us.”
Otto sank into a nearby leather and gold armless side chair with a sigh. He crossed his legs and stared at his fingernails as if he inspected a recent manicure. “Two reasons, actually. First, I was concerned about you. I thought I would see you at my trial this morning. You didn’t show.” His socially trained air of disappointment was disarming. It was a complete front for the pride he really felt over Blake’s disappearance. “Lots of people didn’t show, as it turned out. And here I thought my trial was going to be the event of the season.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Blake’s tone was solid strength. Otto opened a dark place within him where secret fears mixed with rage and grief. The reckless combination snaked through the room and chased my terror to new heights.
“The other reason…” Otto’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I have the funniest feeling that you might stand in the way of our sweet Adeline’s decision. You see, her father and grandfather have been sorely missed by her family. I’d like to help reunite everyone—I think it would mean a lot to her. I know how protective you can be when it comes to the women in your life.”
Otto paused for Blake’s reaction and my breath hitched for fear that he knew about Carolena.
“I thought she might need my help,” Otto said, a shadow falling over his eyes.
I felt the end coming.
“She doesn’t need your help.”
Quicker than light, Otto’s bodyguards took aim at Blake, their guns cocked and ready. Blake aimed his gun at Otto in return.
I leapt to my feet and screamed, “Stop!”
Otto smiled. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to give your answer to my proposal, Addie.”
Frank leaned against the wall next to me like he enjoyed a matinee, and I felt his excitement. “Might want to take him up on his offer, hon. Or it’s bye-bye, Blake.”
As he’d been trained, Blake aimed his gun with confidence at the center of Otto’s body mass. He wouldn’t miss. My eyes shifted between Blake and the two guns pointed at him. They wouldn’t miss, either.
Blake’s fear for our safety rivaled my own. His instinct was typically an invisible barometer that gave good feedback on any situation. But today it gave me no comfort in terms of what might come next.
Rapidly, I tallied the outcome of several potential scenarios. If I left with Otto, how quickly could Blake get the police to arrive? Or, if I left willingly with Otto, how could I be sure he wouldn’t hurt or kill Blake after we left? If I stayed, what were the chances that Blake could kill both of these armed men, before one of them killed him?
There was no magic way out of this. It was two against one.
“You can’t win,” Blake said, his expression as smooth as steel. “Even if one of these assholes manages to shoot me, my finger will still pull this trigger. You’ll be dead before I hit the floor. Is that the deal you want?”
Otto’s smile widened on a sinister laugh, and he patted his crossed leg. “Did you really think you could call the shots with me?”
“I could ask you the same question, Otto.” The hatred Blake held for his father burned with such violent rage, I thought something in the room might spontaneously ignite. Carolena had been dead on about these two men—they were too much alike. And they were going to kill one another.
“Stop,” I said. I squeezed my nails into my palms. As far as I could tell, there was only one way out. Though Blake might never forgive me for it.
“Why don’t we let Addie answer your question? Is this the deal you want, dear? Would you like to see me dead at the expense of your lover’s death? Or would you rather keep him alive and see the return of your beloved father and grandfather?” Otto’s eyes sparked demonically above his smile.
“Don’t do it, Addie,” Blake said.
“What’s the matter? Afraid she won’t choose you? Let the woman make her own decisions.”
With the loss of the sun, the room had gone gray. Everything in it seemed to have lost light and warmth, stolen, perhaps by a man who sought only to destroy.
Otto cast his clear blue eyes in my direction. He ran his ring finger along his well-trimmed eyebrow and I forced down the bile that erupted within me. “I’ll do it,” I said softly.
Blake never moved but a silent bomb of his fury detonated and hit me in the gut.
“Gentlemen, I believe the lady has given her final answer. You’ve made a wise choice, Addie” Otto said. “I knew there was no real reason for concern. Now we’ll set about to bring John and Campbell home.” His eyes sparkled a
nd the corners of his lips turned up in the enthusiastic smile of a child who had been given his favorite toy. He stood and extended his hand for me to come to him. “That should cheer you up, love.”
My body gave an involuntary shiver, as if I’d betrayed it and sold it into slavery. Even though I’d done it for all the right reasons. I bent slow and stiff, picked up my purse and crossed the floor to Otto.
Once I stood with him, Otto gave the hand signal for his bodyguards to claim Blake’s gun.
Blake released his gun to the blond bodyguard, then he cocked his head toward me. His expression a mixture of sadness and rage.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. I didn’t think either one of us would recover from what just happened.
Blake shook his head once and looked away. I felt the dagger in his heart.
“If you’ll give us just a moment to say good-bye,” Blake said to Otto.
Otto’s eyes bounced between Blake and me.
Blake’s lack of reaction watered the sting of Otto’s victory, and confusion beset the aristocratic features of his face. It was the first time I had seen Otto genuinely surprised.
“Say good-bye, Addie,” Otto said. “Then,” he said to the dark-haired man and nodded in Blake’s direction.
“No! What are you doing?” I yelled. “I said I’d go with you. You promised me this morning that if I went with you, you would leave Blake alone. If you hurt him I won’t help you.”
Otto studied me.
I glared at him. “I’m serious.” I could kill Otto barehanded if he hurt Blake.
Otto waved to the dark-haired man, who moved away from Blake.
Blake raised a finger to me as if to say “just a moment.” “Privately,” he said to Otto.
Otto’s eyes narrowed. “You can have your private good-bye, with the door open. You have one minute. Check the room, Tate,” he said to the blond one.
I hung at the top of my inhale as Tate lumbered around the room, opened the closet and then the bathroom door, pressed and knocked on walls, and searched for secret exits. If Blake had one in this room, I hoped this man wouldn’t find it.
Somewhere in Time Page 7
