“Is that why you’re up? Waiting for him to walk by on his way home?”
Moira frowned. “No. I just … hell, I can’t sleep. All of this is whirling around in my head. And some of the things he was saying…” But her eyes strayed to the window once more. Had she been looking for him? She didn’t know.
“Give yourself some time.” Hannah reached over, covering Moira’s hand with hers. “Try to rest and wait until tomorrow. You’re exhausted and you’re hurting. Get some rest and talk to him tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” She feigned a smile and got up, carrying the dishes over to the sink as Hannah finished up the last bit of her pizza.
“I still can’t sleep.” Hannah yawned and looked over toward the TV. “Want to find something stupid to watch?”
“Wow. What an invitation.”
“Aw, c’mon. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep at home, Mom and I would watch TV. The stupider the better.” Hannah grinned at her. “You’d be surprised at how much easier it can be to sleep with something really brainless on the tube if you’ve got a friend there. Company can make all the difference.”
A few minutes later, they curled up on the couch, each with a blanket and pillow scavenged from the guest bedrooms. The stupid movie of choice was a zombie flick that had them laughing and cringing within ten minutes.
They were asleep within thirty.
* * *
Like a few hundred people in town, he’d had a front-row seat, or close enough, to the spectacle that had happened last night.
Actually, two spectacles had happened.
That incompetent cop had lost his temper with Moira McKay, and she’d left practically in tears.
Poor Moira.
If she had gone back to McKay’s Ferry …
He’d had hopes.
She had wanted to leave. Half the town had seen that much—had heard it, too.
He’d been watching, waiting, listening …
But in the end, she’d listened to her brother, and he had to assume she’d gone with that moron back to the apartment he had in town.
Brannon lived close to Neve.
For a few moments, he’d entertained the idea of another fire, one severe enough to set a few buildings ablaze. But he feared he’d be pushing his luck. He couldn’t risk Moira dying, after all. He needed information from her and he didn’t really see any reason either her or Neve had to die unless they had to.
Now, Brannon … well, that bastard, he did want him to die. If he had a way to kill two people—Brannon and Gideon—he’d try to make that happen, but in the end, if they suffered, that would suffice. Mostly because they were arrogant pieces of shite and he detested Gideon for that alone.
But the McKays—his war was with the McKays in particular, so his personal vendettas would have to come later, and that meant focusing on the information he needed from Moira, and making sure he kept the promise he’d made to his father.
Making them pay.
If one of them died, it would hurt them, yes, and he liked the idea of that. But if they all died, what was the point?
Death was easy.
Death ended everything.
He didn’t want them dead … he wanted them miserable.
It wasn’t just that he hated the McKays. He hated everything they all stood for. Hated everything they were and everything they’d built and the hypocrites they were. They acted like such martyrs. But they were just greedy liars like anybody else.
Thieves and fools, all of them. They’d stolen everything from his family.
Picking up his phone, he checked the time and then surveyed the room. He’d spent the past few hours finalizing everything. He hadn’t bought this place solely to fuck with Moira. That had been fun, true. But it should have belonged to him—to the Whitehalls all along. He had to give that whore Tilly credit. If she hadn’t lied and claimed this house as hers through marriage to George, then it would have been lost and he wouldn’t have had a chance to reclaim it.
And he wouldn’t have a chance to do this now.
Stroking a hand down the carved back of the chair, he turned and looked around. Everything else was done.
All he had to do now was bring Moira here … bring her home.
* * *
Company did help. Moira didn’t remember falling asleep.
She came awake almost instantly and knew by the colors bleeding through the sheer curtains that it was early yet. The sun was starting to rise.
Hannah was still asleep on the couch.
She wondered what had happened with that hot guy who had been trying to rally the survivors in the zombie flick.
Careful not to wake Hannah, she slid off of the couch and into the guest bathroom just off the side of the large, open living room. She took a quick shower, wrapping up in the robe Hannah had given her last night. There were plenty of toiletries. Brandon hadn’t forgotten the lessons Ella Sue had drilled into them on etiquette.
Sadly, Moira had no clothes and while she could put on the ones she’d been wearing yesterday, her stomach started to churn when she picked them up.
They stank of smoke, and just the thought of smelling that on her skin all day left her feeling nauseated.
Wrapped in the robe, she left the bathroom in search of her phone. She’d call Ella Sue. A lifetime of experience told her that the lady would already be up. Their former housekeeper rarely slept past six and it was already showing past that.
Sure enough, Ella Sue answered on the second ring, her voice already clear and awake. “Honey, please tell me you’re not sleeping at the house.”
Moira made a face at the telephone. Childish, certainly, but it made her feel a little better. “I’m not sleeping at the house. Apparently everybody has decided I’m just not capable of taking care of myself.”
“Girl,” Ellis Sue said. “You are more capable than just about anybody I have ever met. It doesn’t mean you need to be tangling with somebody who likes to play with fire. Chances are he’s well aware of just how capable you are.”
Moira swallowed.
As the silence stretched out, Ella Sue said softly, “You’ve never been an idiot, Moira. Don’t you start now.”
That no-nonsense tone got through in a way nobody else had been able to.
Resigned, Mira said, “I just don’t like feeling out of control. I’ve been out of control since all of this started. Now I can’t even sleep in my own bed.”
“I imagine if Gideon hadn’t had his hands full last night, he would’ve been more than happy to come back to Ferry with you.”
“I know that.” Moira’s voice thickened as a knot settled inside her throat. It was a punch in the gut, those simply stated words. Gideon would have done just about anything to make yesterday easier on her and she had no doubt he was busting his ass to figure out things out now. What had she done?
Quit it. Guilting yourself to death isn’t going to undo or fix things.
She needed to focus and she needed to fix things.
She couldn’t do much of anything just yet. She needed clothes, first and foremost. “Look, Gideon has me here on lockdown. He doesn’t want me going anywhere without having somebody with me. I’m at Brannon’s and I need clothes. If I have to wear what I had on last night…”
“Say no more, honey.” Ellis Sue spoke briskly. “You just need clothes or do you need personal items too?”
“Just clothes. No, wait … on second thought, Brannon always has extra here, but I might not be staying here tonight. Bring my toiletry case.”
“Not a problem.” Ellis Sue paused, then gently, she asked, “How are you doing, baby?”
The obvious concern in her voice was almost enough to shatter the wall that Moira had built up during the night. “At some point, I think I’ll get past the shock. Once I get past the shock, I’m gonna find my mad. I’m waiting on that.”
She disconnected then and left to busy herself with finding some clothes she could throw on until Ella Sue showed up.
* *
*
Some years back, the McKay children had decided Ella Sue needed a porch built onto the back of her house. So they had one built for her. As the sun slowly rose up over the horizon, Ella Sue sat in her favorite rocker on that porch and stared out over her gardens. She wasn’t out there for the view. It was winter and the colors were muted, but she still found peace there.
At least she did most days.
Now though, she simply rocked and thought about her children.
That was how she thought of the McKay kids.
Sandra and Devon might be the parents, but they’d died so long ago.
The night they’d died, they’d actually had plans to speak with her. The person who’d originally been the chosen guardian for the kids had died of a heart attack and they’d asked if maybe Ella Sue would take over the task. Ella Sue had needed to consider it, and she’d called them, asked if they could meet that night.
She would have told them yes.
It hadn’t worked out.
But it didn’t change the simple fact that she saw them as hers.
And somebody was threatening her beloved children. She loved them as much as loved her own girls, and the rage she had inside her over what was happening was gut wrenching.
Even before the fire, she’d been afraid and mad.
But now …
“You’re finding your mad, aren’t you, Moira?” she murmured as she placed the phone in her lap.
It would be a good thing if Moira did just that.
Ella Sue wasn’t above of a bit of gossip; she liked to know what was going on with who and when. She didn’t fancy mean talk and rather despised those who enjoyed carrying on with backstabbing and cruelty. That sort of spite, she liked to think, ended up showing in a person’s life, whether it was on their face or in their general happiness … or lack of.
She found the best kind of gossip on Facebook. True enough, she also found the worst kind of trash. Just a week ago, she’d seen a man in town tell his wife he wanted a divorce—on Facebook. They’d been married for twenty years. Such a coward.
She’d been on Facebook last night when she read about the fire. The fear that had filled her had all but drained the strength out of her. She hadn’t been able to move for a full thirty seconds. One of her granddaughters had sent her a message and it had been that little sound, like a bubble bursting, that had snapped her out of the shock.
When she’d finally been able to think, she’d started scrolling through the posts, reading about the fire, searching for news.
Then she’d seen pictures of the McKays, Moira first, then Neve and Brannon, along with pictures of the two who’d soon join the family, Hannah and Ian.
Gideon was there, as he always was. Where Moira was, Gideon would be somewhere close.
For the first time, she’d been conflicted. She’d wanted to rush to their side, but she hadn’t been able to tear herself away. She had a schedule and her kids knew it. If they needed her, they’d try to call her at her house, not here.
And they would need her.
So she waited, sitting right there with a front-row seat of all the updates.
Including one that was recapped by a good twenty different people from Treasure, with commentary from double that. Pictures from so many people. Snide commentary from a few, including the good-for-nothing Joe Fletcher and Mrs. Mouton. Bless her heart, the sweet old lady just might have run into the museum if she hadn’t been stopped. She was a gossip, true, but her heart was a good one.
The altercation between Moira and Gideon had been mostly one-sided and a lot of people had chimed in to talk about what a cow she was being, how she was acting like the spoiled rich bitch everybody knew she was.
Some of the people that Ella Sue thought to be levelheaded chimed in, and she read their comments over and over.
She gets attacked. She saw a man die in front of her. Her museum gets burned down. Not that long ago, her brother was stabbed and Hannah was nearly killed in that wreck before that. And don’t forget what Moira and Neve went through. What’s the matter with all of you?
That had come from Mrs. Mouton, and Ella Sue wanted to kiss her for it.
After skimming the comments, Ella Sue had a decent idea of what had happened.
The fire at the museum was the straw that broke the camel’s back—Moira’s back, in particular.
Now Gideon, well, Ella Sue knew him to be a levelheaded, patient man and she didn’t think he’d take the things Moira had said to heart. But he’d taken some hard things from Moira for far too long.
She hoped this wouldn’t be another one of those straws.
* * *
Gritty-eyed and tired, Gideon stood on the deck and stared out over the Mississippi. He could still smell the smoke on himself, despite the fact that he’d taken a shower that had used up every last bit of hot water he had in the tank.
He was tempted to climb back in there and try again. His muscles were aching and tired. Every last bit of him was aching and tired to be honest. He felt like he’d spent a month climbing uphill and had just been told he’d have to do it again.
Some five hours ago, after that shower, he’d collapsed in his bed and lost himself for a few hours—just over four, to be exact. He’d surfaced thirty minutes ago, and he needed to get his ass moving, but he just didn’t have the energy.
If you were any good …
“Stop it,” he muttered.
He drained the rest of his coffee and shoved off the wall.
It was Saturday. Officially, he was supposed to be off duty.
But that was before some sick fuck had set the museum on fire. Curling his hand into a fist, he wondered what he was going to do when he found the son of a bitch. He would find him. No doubt. He would find him.
He needed to find him before anything else happened. If he had to see that misery in Moira’s green eyes again, he thought he’d go insane.
If you were any good …
Those words had come from a place of anger and fear and frustration and he knew it, but fuck if they weren’t digging a hole into him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Moira found some clothes.
The good thing about yoga pants was that they stretched.
The even better thing was that they came in a variety of lengths.
In the laundry room, she found a clean pile of clothes and poked through them until she found a pair of Hannah’s yoga pants—she assumed they were Hannah’s, although the idea of Brannon in yoga pants was sort of amusing.
She took those and grabbed a T-shirt of Brannon’s that he must have grabbed from the pub. There was a hoodie hanging in there too, so she grabbed it.
There wasn’t any help for it, so she had to put on her underwear and bra from yesterday, but it was only for a little while and the smoke wasn’t as bad once she put them through the steam cycle on the dryer.
“Technology is a beautiful thing,” she said softly.
Said technology also produced a quick, quiet cup of coffee.
The apartment was all but silent and she didn’t want to wake anybody up, so she took her coffee and phone and slid out the backdoor and headed down the steps into the small garden.
The sight of it made her heart sigh. “Wow,” she murmured, settling into one of the Adirondack chairs by the little gurgling brook. It hadn’t been there before. She knew Brannon wasn’t planning on staying here much longer, but he certainly believed in making his place comfortable.
The air was still cool and she shivered, snuggling deeper into the hoodie.
“Good morning.”
At the familiar voice, she looked up. Out of habit, she smiled. “Hey.”
* * *
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Neve shivered as Ian came up behind her and slid his lips down the arch of her neck. “Hmmm. No. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“Well, yes. See, I’m used to having this Neve-shaped beauty next to me in my bed and when she wasn’t there, my body realized some
thing was amiss and it told me to wake up. So I did.”
“Neve-shaped beauty?” She giggled as he rubbed his beard against her neck. He pulled her onto his lap and settled his chin on her shoulder.
“There you go, stealing me things again.” He sighed as he tapped at the edge of the computer screen. “Look at this. First my heart, then half my shirts, now my computer.”
“I left mine at the station.”
Ian nodded. “Trying to bore yourself into sleep”
“Ha, ha.” She drove her elbow into his gut. “I think Gideon is on the right track. We just didn’t have time to get much done yesterday before…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced toward the window. She couldn’t see much of anything from here, but in her mind’s eye, she saw the museum. The hungry flames hadn’t quite gotten to finish their job before the firemen stanched the worst of it, but the damage had been done.
Ian stroked a hand down her side. “The three of you, you’re strong. You’re going to get through this.”
“Brannon and I didn’t put our hearts and souls into that place, Ian. Moira did. Without Gideon, this just might break her.”
“But she’s got him, yeah?”
Neve turned her face into his neck, thinking of the fight Gideon and Moira had had last night, although fight wasn’t really accurate. What they had had was a one-sided argument where her sister had done all the arguing and Gideon had simply stood there, taking it.
Proving once again that he was a mind reader, Ian said, “Neve, she was hurt.” He hugged her back against him. “Marshall knows that. He’s a smart man. She’s had to handle too much lately and last night … Well, anybody with a brain had to understand what that was doing to her. Marshall has brains enough for two people. It’s going to be okay. Now … why don’t you and I…”
Neve gasped as he slid his hands up her torso and cupped her breasts through the old soccer shirt she’d stolen from him. He’d insisted he’d have to have it back, peeling it off of her and leaving her naked the morning she’d walked out of the bedroom wearing it. Then he’d made love to her on the kitchen table—again. Later, he’d said she could keep it. “Manchester United has never looked so good, sweet Neve.”
The Right Kind of Trouble Page 24
