Karen backed into the library, settling herself on a small loveseat. What had Randall done to receive such harsh treatment? He wasn’t happy about it, so why stand there and take it? Was Bradford this strict with all his staff? And why did Randall affect her like that? She shook her head. She’d just arrived and already had way too many questions. This was not the way to start a relaxing weekend.
She barely heard the background babble of the other guests as they mingled, wandering around the medium sized room. Glasses clinked and they laughed quietly. She closed her eyes. “Get a grip,” she thought again.
An older woman with short, white hair and sparkling blue eyes walked over from near the doors and sat next to her. “Hello. I’m Edna. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Is this your first murder mystery weekend?”
“Yes, it is,” she said, turning to the woman. “Karen Spraiker. I won an invitation to come here from a contest. It came at the right time too. I was ready for a little R & R. How about you? Have you been here before?”
“Oh, yes. I come every year. I was a friend of Bradford’s parents.” Edna chuckled. “I was watching Bradford when he saw you. I think he likes you. He can’t hide anything from these old eyes.”
Karen smiled. “He just met me.” Of course, it would be nice to have a handsome, rich guy fall in love with her. After all, it happened for her best friend, Misty, but she wasn’t ready to jump back in the dating game just yet. And then there was Randall.
Edna nudged her lightly. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. One look and before you know it, you’re having a wedding.”
Karen laughed. “Isn’t that jumping the gun a little? I’m not looking for anyone right now. I’m just here to have fun.”
“And fun you’ll have,” Bradford said, coming into the library. “I have a good mystery in store for you all. But that’s for tomorrow. Right now, I’ve been informed dinner is ready.”
Karen hung back, watching the group move to the dining room. There were only about ten or so and were mostly older folks. All of them had a look about them that made Karen wonder if they ran in Bradford’s social circles. Movement outside caught her eye. She crossed to the floor length window, looking to her left, then right. She was sure something was out there. What had she seen?
“Ms. Spraiker, are you coming?” Bradford held his arm out to her.
“Yes. I thought I saw something. It was like a large bird.” She looped her arm through his as they headed to the dining room. “And, please, call me Karen.”
“You probably did. You’re in the country, after all.”
“That’s reassuring. At least we know I’m not crazy.” She smiled at her host, but her mind wouldn’t quit. She’d never heard of any birds as big as what she thought she’d seen.
“Has Mr. Dupré worked for you long?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Bradford frowned. “I regret bringing him here. He’s more trouble than he’s worth. If I didn’t need him for a certain project, I’d send him packing.”
She watched him frown as he talked about Randall, black emotions contorting his handsome features. Her combat instincts screamed at her, and she forced herself not to pull away. “Isn’t there anyone else you can get? I mean, if he’s such a problem, why keep him?”
“He has unique skills I require.” He patted her hand. “Let’s not talk about him any more. What do you think of my home so far?”
“It’s very grand, with a style all its own.” That style being gaudy, ostentatious, and totally overblown, she thought, looking at the ample supply of gold filigree, velvet drapes, and wall hangings making the large hall feel small and cramped. “I wanted to ask you if your butler is feeling okay. He’s really pale.”
To Karen’s surprise, he laughed. “Jeffries is fine. He used to be in the theater. His father worked for my family. When his father died, Jeffries felt obligated to take over for him. Now, every year when I continue my parents’ murder mystery tradition, he puts on his makeup to give the place atmosphere. I think he enjoys this as much as I do.”
“Oh. He has a great touch. He really looks like he’s on his last legs.”
Bradford shrugged. “The skeletal look is a little cliché, but it works to get people in the mood for murder.”
Voices drifted from the dining room, and she heard chairs scraping against the floor and the guests’ voices as they talked. The heavy cloth in the hall was doing its best to absorb any sound that drifted its way.
“I can’t wait for everything to start. I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s bound to be exciting.” She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice, nor did she want to. She could feel the tension leaving her shoulders the longer she was there. All she wanted was a good time and no worries.
Bradford smiled at her as they entered the brightly lit dining room, the guests seated all the way around with two empty places at the head of the table. He placed her on his left and moved to the end. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’d like to propose a toast. To our newest detective, Karen Spraiker. I wish her the best of luck when the mystery begins.”
The guests raised their glasses, shouting, “Hear, hear.”
Karen smiled, nodding her thanks at their show of support. Her thoughts strayed back to Randall. Where is he now? Did he ever get dry? Maybe he took a hot shower to warm up. She could almost see him peeling the wet jeans down his legs and pulling the soaked T-shirt off. Her cheeks flamed as she realized where her thoughts were leading her. She gulped down more wine to hide her embarrassment and forced herself to pay attention to the dinner conversation. This was going to be an interesting weekend, one way or the other.
Chapter Two
The morning sun streamed through the windows, brightening the hall and lighting the dining room with a golden glow. Karen inhaled the tantalizing aroma of eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee as she and the other guests walked around the buffet-style breakfast, choosing what they wanted, the silver pans sparkling as steam swirled upwards.
Excitement colored the conversation buzzing around her as she glanced at the guests. Bradford talked with Edna, seated to his right, as everyone helped themselves to coffee, tea, or orange juice and talked about what was to come.
“I can’t wait for things to get hopping,” an older gentleman said on her left, reaching for the coffee pot.
Jeffries came in, leaning down to whisper to his employer. Bradford stood and cleared his throat. “My butler has just informed me of a terrible crime. Our dear Mr. Lawrence has been viciously murdered and is currently lying on the floor of my study.” Bradford smiled as the voices increased in volume. “Your adventure, ladies and gentlemen, has begun.”
Silverware clattered on plates and chairs scraped against the floor as the group hurried to the study. There, Mr. Lawrence lay on the floor with a knife protruding from his chest, blood pooling around the blade. Karen bent for a closer look and saw the “victim” still breathing.
“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, getting into the spirit of the mystery.
“That’s what you all will attempt to find out,” Bradford said. “I will give you one tidbit to start with. All the clues will be found around the house, and anyone could be the killer, so be on your guard. Lunch will be served at two.”
As the rest of the group dispersed, Bradford pulled Karen aside, kissing her cheek. “Good luck.” He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his guests to their own devices to solve the crime.
Karen smiled at his gesture. It was nice but didn’t really do anything for her like Randall’s icy gaze did. Just thinking about Randall made her heart pound. “Get a grip,” she muttered. She bent down to retrieve a slip of paper from the “dead” man’s jacket pocket.
“Shall we team up?”
Karen turned. Edna stood there, her mischievous smile lighting up her eyes.
“I suppose so. Are we allowed to work in teams?”
Edna nodded, offering her hand to Karen. “Of
course. And with our combined talents, we’ll surely win the prize at the end of the weekend.”
“You’re not just saying that to try and eliminate me later, are you?” Karen asked, raising an eyebrow.
Edna laughed, her voice bouncing around Karen like bubbles. “Don’t be silly. We need each other. And I’ll get even with Mrs. Donovan. She’s won two years in a row. We’ll show her what for.”
Karen shook Edna’s hand. “It’s a deal.” She pulled out the slip of paper. “Look what I found.”
Edna rubbed her chin. “It looks like someone wanted a meeting with him last night. And look over there.” She pointed toward the french doors. “There’s muddy foot prints on the rug.”
Karen stepped carefully over the footprints to open the doors. “Let’s check outside for clues.”
The two women stepped out on the half circle stone porch. Karen inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp autumn air. Fall was her favorite season. The air had a freshness no other time of the year could claim. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked at the woods encircling the property. The leaves were starting to turn color with an explosion of reds and golds, standing out brightly from the azure blue sky.
Edna pointed at footprints in front of one of the windows. “Someone was here.”
“They go off that way.” Karen headed to the corner of the house, Edna hard on her heels. “Listen.” They heard the sound of chopping and slowed as they reached the end of the house. Peeking around the corner, Karen saw Randall splitting logs.
His arms tightened and rippled with every swing. It only took him one blow to split a large chunk of wood cleanly in two. He’d taken off his shirt, and it lay in the grass behind him, his tanned skin glowing in the morning light.
The warm October sun beat down on him, and his body glistened with the sweat of his labor, despite the chill breeze. His hair, blue-black in the bright sun, clung to his forehead, his faded blue jeans slung low on his hips. Why isn’t he wearing work gloves? she wondered. His long fingers held the ax handle in a firm, comfortable grip.
A small shed stood behind him, housing wood for the winter. A tall man wearing a heavy tool belt, his long, dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail, came out, wiping his hands on his jeans. He was at least six foot five with huge arms and wide shoulders. His A-line T-shirt was smudged with dirt and grease, and he looked at Randall like he was looking at a cockroach.
“Come on, Dupré,” he shouted, his voice tinged with impatience. “You’re not even halfway done with those logs, and there’s a lot more to go.”
Karen flinched as the ax came down hard enough to split the log and imbed itself in the block.
“It’d go faster if you’d help,” he growled.
The man just smiled, stepping back inside the shed.
“Edna, would you excuse me a moment?” Not waiting for her partner’s reply, Karen hurried over to Randall.
He straightened up at her approach. “Can I help you?”
There was that sexy, southern drawl again. Karen stared at the defined planes of his shoulders and chest, her gaze drifting to his waist. Realizing what she was doing, she forced her gaze back to his face. Someone had hit him hard enough to leave a large bruise on his cheek.
She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to apologize for getting you in trouble last night.”
“It’s all right. Troyington wasn’t too mad.” He lifted another piece of wood onto the block, hefting the ax in his hands. “Last night was nothing. He’s usually worse.” The ax whistled through the air, landing with a loud thunk in the wood.
His movements were smooth and fluid and becoming a real distraction. “Why do you stay if he treats you so badly? Isn’t there someone you can report him to?”
“Report him?” A corner of his mouth lifted. “To who? I’m here of my own free will, under a contract of my own making.”
Karen stared at the bruise on his cheekbone, trying to push away the compulsion to try and soothe it. “I don’t understand...” Her voice died away as he stared at her.
The ice in his eyes darkened as he watched her face. “You can’t. Not yet. The time isn’t right.”
Silence fell between them. Karen lifted her hand, overwhelmed by the need to touch his face.
His eyes softened, his lips quirking. “Don’t worry about me, Ms. Spraiker. Worry about staying on Troyington’s good side.”
Slowly, he lifted his hand and brushed a thumb over her cheek. Karen caught her breath, unable to say a word. It was as if he felt her need to touch him, to be touched by him. At his touch, she could feel something powerful resonate in him. It felt familiar in a way.
“Solve your mystery and go home. Staying here is dangerous.” He picked up the split wood, taking it to the shed. She gasped when he turned his back revealing ugly, red welts crisscrossing his shoulders.
****
Randall had sensed her approach even before he looked up to see her trotting across the yard. He hated the pity he saw written on her face. His biggest mistake was touching her. He should’ve kept his hands to himself. He’d forced himself not to flinch when he’d heard her gasp at the welts on his back. At least the bleeding had stopped. After he changed tonight, there wouldn’t even be scars left. Cray, the handyman for the estate, stood watching him from the doorway to the shed.
“Move,” Randall snarled. He stacked the logs along the back wall, then turned to get another load.
Cray folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re getting a little too familiar with that particular guest, Dupré. The boss isn’t going to like it.”
“You think I give a damn what Troyington likes? Think again.” Randall pushed by him to bring in the first load he’d cut.
Cray watched Randall walk back and forth. “You need to show Mr. Troyington more respect.”
“Respect?” Randall snorted. “Him? A man who kidnaps children for his own gain deserves no respect. Only whatever hell I can put him in.”
Cray grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “Watch your mouth, southern boy.”
“Or what?” Randall said, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think you can possibly do to me that you haven’t done already?”
“How about this?” Cray slammed his fist into Randall’s stomach, dropping him to one knee. “What’s wrong, freak? Can’t take a little hit?”
Randall raised his eyes to glare at Cray. “Oh, I can take it. Can you?” Randall surged to his feet, catching Cray with a right cross, knocking him backward into the tool rack. He rammed his shoulder into Cray’s midsection, knocking the breath from the larger man. He slammed Cray’s head against the peg board, making tools fall to the dirt floor with solid thuds. Cray wiped the blood from his mouth as Randall grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him again into the tool rack as he drew his arm back.
“Wait,” Cray cried out, throwing his hands up in front of him. “You haven’t really thought about what you’re doing, have you?”
Randall hesitated, then let him go, stepping back. No, he thought, I haven’t. People are depending on me, and I let Cray get under my skin.
Cray smiled, drawing himself up to tower over Randall. “Mr. Troyington’s going to find out about this. Then you won’t be so smug, will you? If he didn’t need you and whatever power you claim you possess, I’d break your neck and leave you here.”
Randall’s hands curled into fists, itching to wipe the smug smirk off Cray’s face. “But he does. How would he feel if his guests found out what he’s really doing here? Rich people don’t like being associated with illegal experimentation. The only reason I haven’t told them is because I want to make sure you keep your hands off the children.”
Cray poked him hard in the chest. “That’s right. You cooperate and everyone stays healthy. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”
Randall squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered the faces of the pack as they had asked for his help. He’d felt the fury radiate from Caledon even though his outward appearance had been
calm. Their children were their future and both were in danger. He was supposed to keep them safe, not lose his temper because of men like Cray. No. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Did you, Dupré?” Cray said, biting off the end of every word.
“No. I didn’t.” He glared at Cray, his lip pulling up in a snarl. If he could get away with it, Cray wouldn’t be walking out of the shed.
“The brats live so long as you keep in line. Another outburst like this and he may make an example of one. Maybe even the pack leader’s son. That wouldn’t look too good for you, now would it?”
Randall took a step toward him. “Don’t hurt them,” he said through clenched teeth.
Cray shoved him hard, making him stumble back a few steps. “Then you’d better start behaving yourself.”
Randall glared at him, inwardly pleased to see a little bit of fear fill Cray’s eyes. “Know this. Troyington and the rest of you only live by my discretion. Once I find the children, don’t count on another sunrise.”
Cray shook himself then stood straighter, looking down at Randall and shoving him again. “Big talk for a little man.”
Randall snorted as he looked the larger man over. “I’m not impressed.”
Cray swung his fist, knocking Randall to the ground. “One of these days, I’m not going to wait for the okay. I’m just going to get rid of you.”
Randall spit blood on the floor and wiped his mouth. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Cray kicked him as he went by. “Get back to work, and remember, I’m keeping an eye on you the whole time.”
Randall pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his side. His knuckles were bleeding again. He turned his hand over to look at his palm. Damn. The blister between his thumb and forefinger was back. Add in the dirt, cuts, scrapes, splinters, and everything else he’d picked up and he was a real mess. He shook his head. This was the hand he’d laid on Karen’s cheek.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d first seen her. He swung the ax, seeing her face with those beautiful brown eyes, the high cheekbones, the full lips. Her skin was softer than he thought it would be. The dragon spirit coiled in her and surged to life with his touch. He had noticed the dragon pendant she wore and knew it connected her to the creatures of old. She had accepted their power but hadn’t set it loose yet. It filled her and made her strong. He could still feel the power from her tingle in his fingertips.
Night Angel (Angel Haven) Page 2
