by Jo Goodman
Jarret's fingers tugged at the laces. He kissed her bare shoulders and the back of her neck. His hands smoothed away the marks on her skin made by the stiff whalebone stays. She twisted around and kissed him full on the mouth. He swept back the covers as she wriggled out of her pantalets. Out of the corner of his eye Jarret saw them sail in an arc over the side of the bed. His wicked smile was pressed in the valley of her breasts. He could feel her racing heart against his mouth.
Rennie's breasts swelled under Jarret's touch. He traced a spiral with his fingers. Her nipple hardened. He covered it with his mouth, soothed the tingling heat of it with his tongue. The pleasure of it made her gasp. His hand slipped between their naked bodies and stroked her inner thigh. She thought she would never catch her breath. Her skin was all sensation.
Jarret's fingers probed, teased. Her thighs parted. She caressed his back from shoulder to hip and felt the press of his arousal, the heat and hardness of him against her. He whispered in her ear. She barely understood his husky command and responded as much out of her own need as his, raising her hips and guiding him into her. His mouth found the hollow of her throat. She arched her neck, and in the next beat her body followed. Her heels pressed into the mattress. Her fingers made small indentations in his flesh. This time his mouth caught the sound of her desiring and the breathless pitch of her passion.
He thrust into her hard; the rigid length of him filled her. She tightened around him everywhere. Her legs pressed his flanks, and the soles of her feet stroked his calves. Her arms circled him; her hips cradled him.
The liquid heat at Rennie's center spilled over and spread to the tips of her fingers. Her body trembled in the wake of the tension that pulled her flesh taut. Jarret felt her heat, her release, and took it into him as he might his next breath. It felt as necessary.
She watched his face, the features that were hardened by his need. The deep blue of his eyes had all but disappeared.
There was an edge of severity around the line of his mouth. He let her see how much she was wanted, how much she was desired. He was unafraid to let her know, and in Rennie's eyes his naked passion was his strength. She urged him on, entreating him with husky whispers. His thrusts became shallow, quickened. He surged against her as her fingers threaded through his. His knuckles whitened. He was part of her, filling her, his mouth hot on hers when she took his seed.
It was some time later that Jarret pulled a sheet over their perspiring bodies. Their breathing had already slowed. Rennie's eyelids were heavy, her smile sleepy. When he leaned across her to turn back the lamp, she kissed the underside of his elbow. He liked that.
Jarret doubled his pillow under his head so that he could see Rennie better. She turned on her side. Her fingertips lightly stroked his chest. Her skin seemed luminous even in the shadowed room.
"Mrs. Sullivan," he said.
"Yes?"
He laughed. "I was just seeing if you'd answer."
She tweaked him and said primly, "I'll answer when it suits me, Mr. Sullivan."
Jarret leaned toward her. He bent his head so that his mouth was just above hers. "Is that so?" he asked. He managed to make his tone suitably threatening. It was the laughter in his eyes that undid the effect.
"Hmm."
The flat, serious shape of her mouth intrigued him. She was fighting a smile. He waited her out, nudging her nose with his, kissing her on the corner of her mouth and at her temple. "Mrs. Sullivan," he said.
She smiled brilliantly. "Just now it suits me." Then she opened her mouth under him and kissed him deeply.
Jarret pulled her closer. His hand rested on her hip, and his thumb made a pass across her smooth skin. The kiss became more leisurely, almost lethargic. He drew back, watching her, and laughed lowly as her heavy lids drooped closed. "We've only been married a day," he whispered, "and already lovemaking bores you."
"Not bored," she said, making no effort to open her eyes. "Just tired... the champagne does that. You know I have no head for drink." She wrinkled her nose as he kissed the tip and raised a faint smile. "It was a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?" She slipped her feet just under his leg and warmed herself. She placed one hand lightly on his chest. "I think I like being married to you, Mr. Sullivan."
He trapped her hand. "Good. Because I don't care who you know; you're not getting out of it." He noticed that Rennie didn't take offense to his statement. Instead her sleepy smile deepened as she nestled close, secured by his words, not threatened.
It was startling for Rennie to wake and not find Jarret beside her. Outside it was still dark. Where the drapes had been drawn back, moonshine slanted across the floor. Rennie sat up, listening for sounds from the adjoining dressing and bathing rooms. There was nothing. There were no longer any flames in the fireplace, only glowing embers. Shadows on the wall seemed ominous. Rennie felt the first wave of alarm wash over her and tried not to give into rising panic. She consciously steadied her breathing as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her dressing gown was lying on a nearby chair. She put it on and tied the sash securely around her waist.
He wasn't on the balcony or in the adjoining rooms. Rennie lighted the lamp and carried it into the hallway. At the top of the stairs she listened carefully for sounds below. The normal creaks and groans of the house did not seem so reassuring now. Rennie hovered on the first step, and then drew back, not able to make herself take the stairs. She leaned against the wall, the lamp trembling in her hand, her heart in her mouth.
"Coward," she said to herself. It was enough to propel her forward along the hallway. She didn't bother searching every room for Jarret; she looked for a crack of light coming from beneath one of the doors. At the foot of the door to his former bedchamber, she finally found it. Blowing out the lamp, Rennie set it aside in the hallway.
She had planned to be furious at him for abandoning her, but when she stepped into the room and saw him, and saw that he was oblivious to her presence, her anger, her fear, simply melted away. Her heart went out to him.
He was sitting in a hard-backed chair, his shoulders hunched over the tiny secretary's desk that had been moved into the room. The chair was too small to contain his sprawling body; the desk was too small to contain the scattering of ledgers and folders. They lay on the floor at his feet and under the desk, piled unevenly in one corner, and stacked haphazardly on the bed. One of them lay open in front of Jarret now. He stared at it for a long time and then sighed. Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his legs and rubbed his eyes.
Rennie approached him from behind. She saw him stiffen as he sensed a presence and then relax just a bit as he sensed her presence. She placed her hands on his tightly bunched shoulders and began to massage. A shudder rippled through his muscles, and she absorbed the ache and tension with her fingertips. Rennie leaned forward once and kissed him at the temple. He reached back and laid one of his hands over hers.
"It's the middle of the night," she said softly. "You should come back to bed."
He shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to sleep."
Rennie began massaging his shoulders again, dissolving the knots. "Perhaps I don't want you to."
A weary, but appreciative, smile touched Jarret's mouth.
"I wouldn't be able to do anything else, either."
Her fingers tightened on his flesh, pinching a little. She let go when he pretended to wince in great pain. "You don't have to do this tonight," she said more seriously. "These ledgers will be here in the morning."
Jarret twisted around in the chair, dislodging Rennie's soothing hands. "It doesn't matter how long they'll be here—a day, a week, a month—the answer's not going to come to me this way. I'm no good at this sort of thing, Rennie, or at least I'm not as good as Hollis. I can't find anything in all these accounts that points to him. Either the man's completely covered his tracks or there were never any tracks to cover."
Rennie took a step back from his chair. "How can that be?" she said. She walked over to the fireplace and poked at the blistering coal
s. "There has to be something. You're not thinking Hollis is innocent, are you?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps he is—in a way."
Her fingers tightened around the poker. "I don't understand."
"It depends on the accusation. We can't prove anything about the accident at Juggler's Jump from these ledgers. We've always known that if Hollis was responsible for the wreck, he didn't actually pull the pins himself."
"He paid someone," she said. "Maybe even more than one person."
"But not out of Northeast's accounts. That's a dead end." He turned over a page and ran his finger along the entries. "A lot of money went to a contracting outfit in Denver. This company was supposed to be directing the project at Queen's Point and reporting directly to Hollis."
"That's it, then," she said, putting down the poker. "I'll wager when you try to find the contractor you'll discover he doesn't really exist. Hollis has been funneling the money for supplies and wages, and who knows what else, to a company that isn't really there. That money's probably sitting in a bank account in Denver—with Hollis's name on it."
"I've already found the contractor. You're right; it's a front."
Rennie's eyes widened. "But that's wonderful, Jarret! How can you be so discouraged when you've already learned so much? Does Jay Mac know this yet?"
"He knows. I told him as soon as I discovered it. That was several weeks ago."
A faint frown pulled at the corners of Rennie's mouth. She couldn't understand why Jarret hadn't told her before, or why he didn't share her excitement. "It's almost settled, then, isn't it?" she asked. She sank slowly into the large, overstuffed chair and tucked her dressing gown modestly around her legs. "We only have to show that Hollis received the money through the fraudulent contracting company."
Jarret bent down and picked up a file from the floor at his feet. He handed it to Rennie. "In here is the correspondence from the contracting firm to Northeast. Some of it's written, but most of it comes in the form of telegrams. It's all pretty much about the progress of the project. Some of it is a request for release of more funds. You can see that all of it is addressed to Hollis as head of the operation here in New York."
"It all seems legitimate."
He nodded. "I'm sure Hollis's defense will be that he thought it was legitimate, too." He went on patiently when Rennie gave him a puzzled look. "I suspect that Hollis intends to show that he was the dupe, Rennie. If he can make others believe that Jay Mac recommended this contracting company, then he has nothing to worry about."
Her frown deepened as she leafed through the correspondence again, this time looking more closely at the name of the contractor and the company.
"I said I found the contractor," Jarret said, "and I even found the account where the money's being held; but I never said that Hollis Banks has his name in any part of it."
Color drained from Rennie's face as she stared at the file in her hands. "Seton Contracting... Seton..." She looked up at Jarret. "It's an anagram for Stone. The person at the other end of all this money is Ethan, isn't it?"
Jarret nodded and laughed humorlessly. "Not that he knew about it until I sent a telegram informing him. He did indeed discover that Denver's Federal Bank had an account opened for Seton Contracting and that he was named as its owner. There was just over three hundred thousand dollars in it."
"Oh, my God."
"And your father wrote the drafts, Rennie," he said quietly. "Hollis went to your father with the letters in your hands as evidence of how the work was progressing, and your father released the funds for the project. You see how it appears, don't you? It's as if Jay Mac was working with Ethan to defraud Northeast. That's what these accounts show."
"No one would believe that," she said. But even to her own ears Rennie did not sound convinced. She dropped the file on the floor so carelessly that its contents scattered. Some drifted dangerously closed to the fire. "We should burn them," she said, starting to rise. "There would be nothing to—"
Jarret stood and blocked her path. He gently pressed her shoulders and encouraged her to sit again. He knelt and gathered the papers. "I'd be very surprised if Hollis doesn't have some record of all this correspondence," he said. "Or at least some witnesses to it. If this suddenly disappeared, it would be more incriminating to Jay Mac." He slid the file on the desk and then sat on the curved arm of Rennie's chair. "We both know there is no conspiracy between Ethan and Jay Mac, yet all the evidence points to one. We're both convinced that Hollis Banks is responsible, yet there's no evidence to support that conviction."
"Hollis knows that, doesn't he?" Rennie said.
"It's the way it was planned."
Rennie was silent, thinking. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Three hundred thousand dollars," she said softly. "All of it in Ethan's name. If Hollis doesn't want the money, then what—"
"Does he want?" Jarret finished for her. "He wants the company. Hollis plans to be the head of Northeast Rail."
"Jay Mac will dissolve the company first," she said fiercely.
Jarret gave her a moment to think about what she'd said before he explained gently. "No, he won't. He can't. Your father's a very wealthy man, Rennie, but Northeast is a company with enormous debt, much more than Jay Mac can pay out of his own pocket. Northeast's creditors, the banks, the private investors, aren't going to let your father simply close his shop when keeping Northeast running means a return on their loans and investments. You know enough about how things operate to realize that."
The eyes that Rennie raised to Jarret were pained. "Jay Mac's thinking of stepping down, isn't he?" she asked quietly. "That's why he's gone to the summerhouse with Mama. It isn't only because of Nina's death that he wants some time away from the city." Jarret didn't have to answer. She saw the truth in his face. "He should have told me... you should have told me."
"He didn't want it to interfere with our wedding," said Jarret. "And neither did I. Until tonight I suppose I hoped that something would jump out at me, that your faith in me would be justified. But it's not going to happen, Rennie. Hollis has probably won. Jay Mac can still choose to fight it out with him, but the scandal will discredit Northeast, perhaps even start a panic. Loans will be called in. Your father could lose everything. But if the transfer of power is smooth, then Northeast continues to turn a profit; the investors are happy, the banks are happy, and there's public confidence in the company. Jay Mac is also not held up to ridicule."
"He's going to lose shares to Hollis."
Jarret nodded. "More than likely. Hollis is a fool if he doesn't demand a percentage of them in return for taking over the railroad." His tone was dry, resigned. "And I think we've both learned that Hollis is no one's fool."
Rennie rested her head against Jarret's arm. The sleeve of his quilted dressing gown was cool and smooth against her cheek. "If Hollis had all this planned to get control of the company, then why did he try to kill Jay Mac?"
"I could make a guess, but if you want to know the truth, you'd have to ask Hollis."
Rennie drew back, a small crease appearing between her brows as she frowned in deep thought. "Jarret," she said slowly, "if you were tracking someone in the mountains and you lost his trail for a while, what would you do?" She held up her hand, halting his answer a moment. "I mean if you had an idea where he was going in the first place."
Jarret shrugged. It was hardly a trick question. "If I had I good idea where he was going, the trail doesn't really matter. I would get ahead of him and wait. If I couldn't get ahead, I'd corner him and flush him out."
Rennie sat up a bit straighter, her face solemn, her emerald eyes expectant. "Well?" she asked, gesturing at the room full of ledgers and files. "You said it yourself; the answer isn't in the accounts. There's no trail to follow. But you've figured it out without a trail. You know what Hollis's plan is. You know where he's heading with it." She smiled slowly, almost triumphantly. "All we have to do is find a place to corner him."
"Rennie," Jarre
t said placatingly. "I don't think—"
She wasn't listening to him. "Do you remember when we sought shelter in that abandoned mine? We flushed out that little bear cub easily enough. We were just talking between ourselves, making plans, and he came out because he was curious."
"Hollis isn't a bear cub."
"No, but he's curious. And he's full of pride, Jarret. It's not enough for him to be clever; he has to make certain you know he's clever."
Jarret didn't need to be convinced of that. He glanced around the room again, at the stack of ledgers on the bed, the pile in the corner, the mound of them beside the desk. "Flush him out, eh?" he asked thoughtfully. "It could work."
She nodded, making room for him in the chair as he slid off the arm and onto the cushion. They were squeezed comfortably together, both her legs resting across his lap, her bottom pressed tight to his thigh. Her dressing gown opened. Before she could close it Jarret's hand slid under the satin and lay against the curve of her hip.
He bent his head so that their foreheads touched. "You're a very bright lady, Mrs. Sullivan."
She nudged him with her nose. "You inspire me."
His thumb moved back and forth across her hipbone. "I think I like that."
Rennie kissed him softly. "Let's go to bed."
"You are full of good ideas tonight."
* * *
Hollis Banks stood at the window in his office and stared down on the street below. The traffic seemed to move more quickly when viewed from the height of five stories. It gave him a feeling of power, almost as if he controlled the ebb and flow and changing patterns. He did, in some ways, do just that. Northeast Rail was moving a country, and he was part of it. It was only a matter of time before he controlled it.
That's what made the message on his desk all the more disturbing. Rennie wanted to see him. Turning away from the window, he picked up the note again. It was written in a hasty scrawl, so expansive and sweeping Hollis doubted at first that it was Rennie's hand that had penned it. Close examination did indeed convince him of the genuineness of the letter, if not the content.
