Moriah's Landing Bundle

by Amanda Stevens

  “Don’t say another word,” Drew warned him. He couldn’t see his friend’s eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, but he sensed a whole stream of questions. Too bad. He didn’t owe Carey or anyone else an explanation. He strode over to where they’d parked and waited for Carey to hit the button that unlocked the passenger door.

  “When do I get my car back?” Drew asked as he slid inside the bright green sports car he’d lent Carey several weeks ago.

  “My car’s supposed to be out of the shop tomorrow if they get that part in. Do you need it before then?”

  Drew shook his head. “Tomorrow’s fine.” He had other cars at his disposal.

  They rode in silence, letting their private thoughts do the talking on the drive back to the Pierce compound. Carey pulled Drew’s sports car up in front of the main house instead of parking.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” Drew asked.

  “No. Thanks.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.”

  Carey regarded him soberly. “You know, don’t you?”

  His stomach plummeted. “Know what?”

  “One of the four of us must have fired the shots that killed her.”

  BRIE WAS RELIEVED when she could finally take off her apron and head home a little early. Questions without answers had tormented her all evening as she took orders and waited tables. Andrew Pierce and the shooting were on everyone’s lips, especially after the way he left the diner before his food arrived.

  New rumors were circulating. One had Ursula Manning attacked by bears in the woods. Another said she’d been kidnapped and held for ransom. Rumors being a way of life, Brie didn’t put much stock in any of them, but she did wonder about Drew’s abrupt departure. Seeing him again wasn’t supposed to be so traumatic. She wasn’t supposed to care anymore. Only, she had missed Drew and their long conversations over pie and coffee.

  She’d always known he was going to be someone important in politics one day. He was so smart and he cared so much. And she’d used that knowledge to convince herself not to tell him about Nicole. Drew was an honorable man, who didn’t need a scandal or an unacceptable wife and child just because she’d been a fool. Yet sooner or later someone would tell him she had a daughter. Drew wasn’t stupid. He could do the math. Then what?

  Why had he come to the diner today? People had long memories. Even without Carey’s careless remark, someone was bound to remember the summer he’d hung out at the diner. What if that someone went to the media? Nicole’s eyes were a dead giveaway to her parentage. Brie gripped her pad a little tighter.

  A sense of helpless panic built inside her.

  The residents of Moriah’s Landing tended to live by very narrow, old-fashioned codes of behavior. They didn’t hang women for being witches anymore or brand them with a scarlet letter, but they wouldn’t condone a Pierce getting a young girl from the wrong side of town pregnant, and then abandoning her to her fate. It wouldn’t matter to anyone that Drew hadn’t known about the child. He’d be expected to know. The gossip would destroy him—and his budding career in politics.

  Depressed by the course of her thoughts, Brie said good-night to her co-workers and stepped outside. Her mind still raced with “what if” images as the hot muggy air of the night enfolded her.

  A summer storm was brewing. She could feel it pulsing over the water. Her mother had always said Brie was better than a barometer. She searched the dark sky. It would thunder soon.

  Her steps faltered. A cluster of men stood at the far end of the sidewalk in the gap between Wheels and the Bait and Tackle shop.

  Little light reached that stretch of sidewalk. Not enough to identify the men. She was about to cross the street when she recognized Razz’s nasal voice. His words carried clearly, stopping her mid-stride.

  “Pierce killed the Manning woman, all right, and who’s to say it was really an accident?”

  “You mean he shot her on purpose?”

  “Think about it. A good-lookin’ woman like that married to an old man? It’d be a heck of a clever way to get rid of an unwanted lover, don’t you think?”

  “You think she was messin’ around with him?”

  “Rider saw her get in Pierce’s car one day.”

  “That don’t mean nothing.”

  “I heard her wrists had marks like she’d been tied up,” another voice dissented.

  “Maybe Pierce is into S and M,” someone else joked.

  Brie knew she should keep walking. They were only gossiping like everyone else.

  “Wait and see,” Razz said. “Some other poor slob will take the fall for her death. No one can say for sure who was shooting with which gun. Makes for a nice clean murder.”

  “I don’t know, man…”

  “Me an’ Dodie was there,” Razz persisted. “The whole town saw Pierce standin’ over her body. He looked guilty as sin. Nice, huh? We could elect ourselves a mayor who got away with murder.”

  Fury washed away her common sense. Brianna strode forward, the slap of her soles echoing hollowly on the cobblestone street. All four heads swiveled in her direction.

  “Do you know the penalty for slander, Edgar?” she demanded, using his hated given name.

  Razz bristled. He loomed tall and menacing, but Brie refused to back down.

  “Now, why do I have a feeling Mayor Thane paid you to spread that rumor? Must be because I saw him talking with you and Dodie out here a few hours ago. What’s the going rate for malicious gossip, Edgar?”

  She had seen the mayor stop his car in the street to talk with them shortly after Drew abruptly left the diner.

  “Watch your mouth, little girl,” he said.

  “Does the truth hurt? You told me that you and Dodie didn’t get there until after the shooting,” she reminded him.

  The three toughs looked from her to Razz. He bristled as he realized he was losing credibility.

  “If you don’t want to get hurt, move along. This here’s a private conversation.”

  “On a public sidewalk,” she fired back.

  Her insides twisted at the sudden feral malice in his expression. Razz and trouble had always been synonymous. But even the night of her only date with him, she had never considered him dangerous.

  Until now.

  She should have kept her mouth closed and kept walking. But since she hadn’t, she knew better than to let him see any trace of fear.

  “Fair warning, Razz. I wouldn’t make accusations like that so publicly if I were you,” she warned.

  “Good thing you aren’t me, then.”

  The four of them crowded close enough for her to smell the beer they had consumed. Belatedly, her common sense kicked in. The storm was gathering speed, closing in like them. A darting glance around showed the normally busy street was hauntingly empty. Even senile Arabella Leigh, who liked to walk this part of town at all hours, was nowhere in sight. The loud music reverberating from inside the bar would cover any scream for help she might make.

  No question. She was in trouble.

  Brie focused on Razz. “If Andrew Pierce had been responsible for Ursula Manning’s death, he would have said so,” she stated calmly, thrusting her hands inside the pockets of her uniform so they couldn’t see how badly she was shaking. “Yesterday was a tragic accident. Ursula ran onto the firing range during the tournament without warning. Drew tried to save her life.”

  “Yeah?” Razz reached out deliberately and stroked her hair. Reflexively, she jerked back before she could stop herself, provoking a satisfied smile. She managed a glare, hoping he couldn’t hear the way her heart was trying to pound its way free of her chest.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it isn’t smart to interrupt a private conversation?” Razz sneered menacingly.

  “Yeah, you might get hurt or something,” the leering one added.

  Her hand closed over the canister of mace she always carried. It was a small can. Nowhere near big enough to do her much good against four of them.

 
A dark shadow suddenly detached itself from the side of the bait shop.

  “Is there a problem here?” a low voice asked quietly.

  They whirled as one. David Bryson glided forward without a sound. He was dressed completely in black despite the heat, and there was something menacing in the uncanny way his features remained in shadow—as if he weren’t quite real.

  “Brianna?” he asked.

  Brie inhaled in relief at the sight of Tasha’s former fiancé, but she didn’t release her grip on the canister of mace.

  “Beat it,” one of the toughs said.

  “We’re havin’ a conversation,” the leering one added.

  But as he faced the shadowy form of David Bryson, the leer faded. He suddenly appeared younger and weaker than he had just a moment ago.

  “Is that right?” David asked softly. His gaze went to her. “Brianna?”

  The others tensed, waiting for her verdict. Only Razz looked angry. She had just made a dangerous enemy no matter how she answered.

  “It’s late,” she enunciated carefully. “I’m through talking this evening.”

  “Yeah? Well, fine,” the self-appointed spokesman agreed. “Me, too. Come on, guys. We’ll see you around, Razz.”

  Her shock mingled with relief as the group headed back inside the bar. Razz clenched his fists. He looked as if he wanted to protest, but after glancing at David he seemed to think better of what he’d been about to say.

  “We’ll finish our talk,” he told her. “Another time.”

  “That wouldn’t be advisable,” David warned. He reached out, stopping Razz in his tracks. A shudder passed through the youth before he jerked free of that hand.

  “What are you?” Razz demanded. “Her keeper?”

  “If necessary.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, struggling to regain some of his usual swagger.

  “Do that…Edgar.”

  Razz tried for one last look of intimidation that failed miserably. David simply waited. Razz added a glare for Brie’s benefit before sauntering toward the front door of the bar. Brie watched him go inside before she let herself relax.

  “Thank you, David.”

  There was no answer. David Bryson had melted back into the shadows without a sound.

  Trembling from head to toe, Brie turned blindly back to the street. She would have to hurry now to beat the storm. She sensed it gathering to make a push inland. Car headlights momentarily blinded her when she would have stepped into the street. A vehicle braked to a halt directly in front of her. Her mouth went dry with new fear as the driver’s door burst open.

  Andrew Pierce stepped into the street.

  “Taxi?” he asked.

  She tried to swallow. Surely her knees wouldn’t fold on her now. Not now. Not in front of Drew. A delayed reaction, that’s all it was. This weak, fluttery feeling had nothing to do with the fact he was standing a few feet away looking at her with boyish wistfulness.

  “Wha-what are you doing here?”

  “Offering you a ride home.”

  “I’d rather walk.”

  He came around the car. “I remember.”

  He said it so gently she felt an inexplicable need to cry.

  “You always did like to walk.”

  Oh, God. His voice ran like a caress over nerves stretched too tight. She fought an urge to throw herself into his unsuspecting arms in relief.

  “There’s a storm coming in,” he continued, “and you never carry an umbrella.”

  Why did he have to remember that? It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to remember how thoughtful he could be. How could she ignore him with this longing welling up inside her all over again? Would she never outgrow her infatuation with Drew?

  “Brie? Did something happen?” A new alertness came to his stance. His gaze swept her, the bar and the street, lingering on the dark shadows where David Bryson had stood only a few seconds ago. Drew couldn’t have seen him, so he must be picking up on her nervousness.

  Before she could respond, music blared stridently as the door to Wheels swung open. They turned at the sound. Razz stood silhouetted against the faint light filtering onto the street. Blood thundered in her head. She sensed his satisfaction even as he stepped back inside.

  Drew looked from the bar to her. “Friend of yours?”

  She shuddered. “Not in a zillion years.”

  His mouth firmed. He looked like a man ready for a confrontation. Her hand lifted to stop him and then had nowhere to go as he turned to her instead.

  “You shouldn’t be walking out here alone at this hour.” He glanced back at the bar. “It isn’t safe. Get in the car, Brie. I’m taking you home. The weatherman says it could be a nasty storm.”

  She knew. But she was more afraid of another sort of storm altogether. One that didn’t involve the weather. She should refuse and tell Drew to go. Right now Razz was probably inside with his friends spreading the news that she was out here talking to Drew.

  He opened the passenger door.

  A sudden cold wind gusted across the beach. Lightning forked the distant clouds. Brianna slipped inside the car.

  As she sank into the plush leather seat she tried to tell herself this wasn’t a mistake. Drew’s car was blocking traffic—or would be if there had been any. She couldn’t make a scene out here where anyone might see them. But now she was alone with Drew. Awareness enfolded her as he slid in beside her.

  “New car?” she asked nervously. “Didn’t you used to have a green sports car?” Thank heaven this was a larger sedan. His presence still managed to take too much of the oxygen from the close quarters.

  “This is one of the family cars. I lent Carey my car last week. His is in for repairs.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. A wind gust sent sand pelting against the car. Rain followed on its heels. Drew flicked the windshield wipers on high and put the vehicle in gear.

  She stared at the rhythmic swish of the wipers to keep from staring at him. The scent of his aftershave was an unwelcome sensual assault on nerves already stretched too thin.

  “You shouldn’t be walking these streets after dark,” he chided.

  “When you get to be mayor you can pass a law,” she told him dryly. “No walking after dark.”

  “So you heard about that.”

  “I work at gossip central—otherwise known as the Beachway Diner. Of course I heard you plan to run for mayor. Probably before you even made the decision to run.”

  He flashed her a grin and her heart stood still. How was it possible to feel so enervated, yet so completely aware all at the same time?

  “I keep forgetting about the gossip mill,” he said.

  The wipers strained to clear the windshield. She didn’t know how he could drive in this downpour. She couldn’t see a thing. He flicked on the defroster and both hands gripped the steering wheel as wind rocked the car.

  “What just happened back there?” he asked softly.

  “Nothing.”

  He glanced at her but had to concentrate on the road. That gave her an opportunity to study the subtle changes in him. He’d always been incredibly handsome, but now youthful charm had surrendered to a far more formidable maturity. He exuded an inner confidence, as if he’d finally come to terms with who he was and where he was going.

  The knowledge was bittersweet. She was glad for him, but sorry because it opened the gap between them to an impossible chasm she couldn’t hope to breach.

  “Brie?”

  He pulled into her mother’s driveway and stopped the car. His stare was as potent as a touch against her skin.

  “Was someone hassling you tonight?”

  “I made a mistake in judgment.” A big one. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Is that why you’re shaking?”

  She clasped her hands together tightly. “Your defroster is cold.”

  He switched it off.

  “Thanks. And thanks for the ride,” she added q
uickly.

  His hand closed over her arm before she could find the handle to the door. The unexpected contact was electrifying. For a moment neither of them moved.

  “Brianna.” He breathed her name as if he, too, had been jolted. He shook his head quickly as if to clear it. “We need to talk.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? We used to talk all the time,” he said gently. “Remember?”

  Ridiculous tears stung her eyes. Defensively, she reached for sarcasm. “Sure, I remember,” she managed to say lightly. “Do you want ice cream on that pie? Will it be coffee or soda today?”

  His jaw set. The pulse in his neck quickened, making her ashamed.

  “Please let go of my arm, Drew.” What would she do if he refused? “It’s late and I’m very tired.”

  He withdrew his hand slowly, trailing it over her skin. Her belly quivered. Wind-driven rain continued to beat against the car. He stared as if he were trying to see past her words to read her chaotic thoughts.

  Oh, God. He could convey so much in a simple look. She’d dreamed about those remarkable eyes, but never once had she pictured them filled with a sadness that nearly matched her own.

  “What happened, Brie?”

  “I told you—”

  “I don’t mean tonight, though I want to know about that too. What happened to all your plans? Why are you working in the diner instead of a courtroom in Boston?”

  She tried to summon anger, but his expression made that impossible. All she had to do was open the door and leave. Why couldn’t she make her fingers cooperate?

  “What are you doing here, Drew?”

  “Trying to talk with you.”

  “We did all our talking a long time ago.”

  “Did we?” Holding her gaze he leaned forward, stroking the side of her face.

  Brie quivered. She leaned into that caress without thought, automatically turning her face into his palm. It had been so long.

  He leaned closer, until the seat belt brought him up short. Raising her chin with his fingers, he gazed at her. She felt his breath against her cheek. Her heart fluttered wildly in anticipation of his lips on hers once more.