She caught his wrists in her hands, squeezed. She wanted to believe that. So much.
“If you could do anything different, now, would you?”
“Yes.” She blurted it out, not even having to think about it. If she had the chance . . .
The chance.
Licking her lips, she looked up at Zane as her heart started to pound, hard and heavy in her chest.
If I had the chance . . .
“Price is being investigated,” she said softly.
“Price?”
She let go of his wrists and spun away. “My stepbrother. I saw the article online last night. That’s . . . that’s why I didn’t want to talk. That’s what set me off. He was accused of assaulting somebody on . . .” She stopped, bit her lip. On his campaign committee. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go into that yet. Wasn’t sure how to even broach the subject. “A woman he works with,” she finished, lamely. “The papers aren’t painting her in a nice light. He’ll try to talk his way out of it. He’ll probably win. People just don’t speak up against him. Even if there are others who have had trouble with him, the family buys them off or threatens them.”
She swiped her hands down her jeans, her mind racing.
They couldn’t buy her off. Any attempt to intimidate her would be laughable. What would they do? There wasn’t anything they could do. Not to her.
“Keelie?”
She turned and stared at Zane. “I have to go. Now.”
Now. Before she lost her nerve.
Chapter Sixteen
“You stupid son of a bitch.”
Restart in safe mode . . .
“I’ll show you safe mode.” Travis almost slammed his fist into the ancient tower but decided the thing was ready to draw social security. It should live out its final days as pain free as possible. He’d just given it a new lease on life, although what he should have done was sabotage the obsolete piece of shit so Zach would let it go.
“Are you threatening my computer?”
Travis looked up. Zach stood in the door, drying his hands off.
“I’m trying to convince it that euthanasia would be a kindness in its condition. Zach, this thing is five years old. Do you even do routine maintenance on it?”
Zach frowned. “Maintenance? It’s not a pool for fuck’s sake.”
“No.” Travis watched him, speaking slowly, the same way he talked to his nephew, Clay, when he went over using Trey’s computer. “It’s a piece of technology—that means it needs maintenance and upgrades and updates. That keeps it from running slow and crashing. It’s so loaded with spyware and malware, I’m surprised it even works. You haven’t emptied the recycling bin in more than a year.”
“It gets the job done. Why are you bitching about it anyway? You don’t work on it.” Zach tossed the rag he had into a laundry basket positioned near the wall and headed around the desk. He stopped when he saw the neat stack of papers. “What’s this?”
“Information.” Travis grabbed the stack, rolled it into a sheaf and slapped it against Zach’s gut. Automatically, Zach grabbed the pages. “Read it. I don’t know for sure if that’s your connection, but just in case . . .” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the keyboard as he typed in another command.
It was easier to lie to his brothers if he didn’t have to look at them.
It was Keelie.
He’d had to dig pretty deep and go around some walls, but he had found pictures and Keelie looked pretty much the same. She’d been a little softer in the face ten, twelve years ago, but the eyes were the same, the shape of her face.
There were other changes, too, but Travis had some idea of just what might have led to those changes.
Sometimes, the people in your life changed it—and for the better. That was the way it should be.
But too often, those people changed it for the worse.
Keelie had spent some time with people who’d changed her life for the worst.
Whatever good changes she’d brought on had been because she’d made them happen on her own.
A harsh noise left Zach, and Travis looked up.
Zach’s eyes pinned him in place. “She’ll kick your ass for digging this up. What the fuck, Travis? She doesn’t need you digging around in her past. I trust her—”
“So do I.” Travis cut that thought off right there. “This isn’t about whether or not anybody trusts her, man. Whoever is trying to track her down, it’s not about a happy reunion. You really want her to think she’s got to deal with it on her own?”
“Deal with what?”
The brothers turned as one to look to the doorway.
Maybe it was left over from childhood.
Maybe it was the fact that Zane still seemed to loom over them.
Or maybe it was the grim look on his face, the dark, haunted expression in his eyes.
But Travis kind of found himself wishing he’d just slid out of there. From the corner of his eye, he saw Zach’s mouth tighten, realized Zach didn’t feel much different.
Travis cleared the cache and shut down the window on the computer before he rose.
“Just talking a few things over with Zach,” he said, keeping his voice level. “Was hoping to track you down and have dinner or something, Z.”
Zane’s quiet eyes studied him and then shifted to Zach.
A few taut moments of silence passed and then he came inside. The door shut behind him and the tension in the air ratcheted up. Zane was still facing away from them as he lifted his hands, shoved his hair back. “Keelie had me drop her off at her car. She needed to go home. Wants to be alone. Me? I felt like grabbing a beer—or five. Thought I’d grab one of you idiots and drag you along. But now I feel like knocking one of you down and pounding on you until you stop lying.”
“For the record, I haven’t said anything, much less lied.” Zach held up his hands as Zane turned around. “I want to get that straight right here.”
“Fine.” Zane practically chewed the words off. “So how about you just tell me whatever Travis is not telling me.”
Travis held still as Zach turned the information over to Zane. He kept his hands tucked into his pockets, debating on whether or not to share the information he hadn’t printed out, the information he’d just wiped off the computer.
Information that Zach just wasn’t savvy enough to be able to pull back up, even if his piece-of-shit equipment would cooperate.
In the end, that was Keelie’s business. He’d already crossed lines, but everything he’d found was anything anybody halfway decent with a computer could dig up, if they knew how. The fact that it had taken a private investigator this long to find anything was just a sign of how incompetent the investigator was.
Keelie did need people at her back if somebody was digging around for her, the way he saw it. She had people who cared about her.
But caring about her was one thing. Sharing her entire history was another.
“What is this?” Zane asked, his voice neutral. He didn’t look at them as he flipped through the information he held, skimming over each sheet before moving to the next.
“Somebody called earlier.” Zach crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the desk and crossing his ankles, legs stretched out in front of him. “Turns out he’s a private investigator. Seems like he’s digging around, looking for information on Keelie.”
Zane’s gaze swung up, lasered in on the two brothers standing by the desk. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him anything,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.
That didn’t fool Travis.
Judging by the way Zach tensed, he wasn’t fooled either. But he kept his voice easy as he replied, “Nah. Of course not. I’m not in the habit of telling strangers jack about my friends. But the fact that he was digging around about her had me concerned. I pulled out her application—one of the contacts she listed has the same area code.”
“Yeah.” Zane’s voice dripped with scorn. “I can see the cause for concern here.”
Some of the tension drained out of Zane. “That’s the only reason you’re looking.”
“Hell, I’m curious—you know that—but if I wasn’t worried she’d have people showing up to cause her shit, I’d leave it alone.” Zach jerked up a shoulder and glanced at Travis.
He was going to let it go. Travis already knew. Unless he spoke up, Zach would let their older brother think he was the one responsible, the one who’d unearthed the information Zane now held in his hands. Like Zach could.
Skimming a hand back through his hair, Travis shrugged. “I’m the one who dug it up, Z. The private investigator didn’t even use her name—called her Katherine Vissing. But the description was spot on, except her hair and that doesn’t mean shit. She’s had different hair just about every single time I’ve seen her and I don’t see her that often.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. Travis didn’t let anything show on his face. If any of his brothers would ever see through the smokescreen, it would be Zane. Not his parents, not Zach, sure as hell not Seb, not even his twin. But Zane, because he always looked deeper.
A few seconds passed and Travis let himself shrug. “Look, I spend my days digging around for people who are skimming money and finding various ways to screw people over. I’ve got a good bullshit meter. It started to spin out of control when that guy fed his lines to Zach.”
“Why?” Zane asked, his voice implacable.
“Because he said a parent wanted to see her. And I know it’s not her father—he died when she was a kid. So if he’s being straight, then it’s her mother.” It was Zach who took that one, his voice just as hard as Zane’s. “You ever talk to her about her family?”
A mask fell across Zane’s face, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. “A little.”
“Then you’ve probably noticed that she shuts down real fast if you ask her about her parents, especially her mom. So I’m not buying this line that suddenly her mother wants to reconnect—out of the blue.” Zach shrugged, but despite the casualness of the movement, the tension was still there.
* * *
Her mother.
Lowering the printouts to his side, Zane managed to keep himself relaxed through sheer will alone. “Her mother,” he said slowly. “Somebody called looking for her, saying it was about her mother?”
“He’s trying to locate the daughter of a client. His words.” Zach’s gaze was hooded, revealing very little. But everything else about him said he was worked up, maybe almost as aggravated as Zane.
Zane’s mind spun, moving to the next logical step. Normally that came easy. He handled logic and plans very well, but what was the next logical step here?
He needed to call Keelie. No. He needed to go see her, first to tell her about the call. Then he wanted to know what this shit was with her name.
Katherine.
Was that her real name?
What the hell?
Wait . . .
He shot Zach a look. “You hired her. You get social security numbers. Wouldn’t something weird pop up if the name and social security number didn’t match?”
“It did match.” Zane shrugged. “Plus, I do the criminal history background. None of that would stop me from hiring—depending on what it was and how I felt about the person. Javi did grand theft in his teens. Did his time, turned his life around. But there was nothing that showed with Keelie. The name checked out, the background was clean.”
So that only made it all that much more confusing.
“I got to go.” He looked at the information in his hands, then at Zach and Travis. “I need this. I’m going to—”
Zach’s phone rang and he pulled it from his belt. “That’s Keelie,” he said, glancing up. “Do I tell her?”
“No.” Zane shook his head. “I will.”
Zach looked like he wanted to argue, but he just answered the call.
* * *
Keelie swung a look around her apartment, one last look before she locked the door behind her.
The phone rang a second, then a third time, and she was almost relieved. Voice mail—the coward’s way out, maybe, but just then, she didn’t care.
Then Zach answered.
Shit.
Bracing herself mentally, she plunged in, feet first. “Zach, I hate to do this to you, but I have to bail for a little bit. Hopefully just a week, but something personal has come up. It’s urgent and I have to deal with it.”
There was a pause, and then Zach said softly, “Are you okay?”
No.
“I’m fine. I just . . .” This was where she fumbled. I have to go talk to the cops about this guy I know—he’s my stepbrother and he’s a rapist and I know it and he’s done it again. Not a great thing to drop in on a conversation. It’s a family emergency. Not entirely a lie. It was family. In her opinion, dealing with that son of a bitch was pretty high up there. In the end, though, none of it felt right. “Look, I don’t want to go into this on the phone and I have to get to the airport—”
“Airport?”
There was a rush of noise and the sinking feeling in her gut intensified. Sighing, she shoved her suitcase into the trunk, already knowing the reason behind the silence on the phone.
“Keelie, what the hell is going on?” Zane was on the phone now. His voice was a blade to her heart. At the same time, she wanted to just go to him, tell him what she was doing. Ask him if he could come with her. He would. She knew it without asking. He’d drop everything if she told him she needed him with her. He probably would have done it a couple of months ago when they were just friends—he was the kind of guy who’d offer that to his friends.
But now things were different.
She couldn’t do it, though. He was in the middle of trying to get his life where he needed it to be.
And she . . .
I want to be part of it, she realized abruptly. She very much wanted to be a part of it, but she couldn’t do that until she found a way to make peace with the life she’d dropped like a bad habit.
“Keelie?”
It dawned on her that she’d just been standing there, silent, while he waited. “I’m here,” she said as she slid into the car. The pent-up heat was enough to sap her energy. She took a second to roll the window down and then she started the car. “Zane, I have to take care of something. It’s . . .”
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the memory of Price’s face. The memory from that night superimposed on the pictures she’d seen when she’d done the search on him.
“My life isn’t my own,” she said softly. “Not yet. You’re right, you know. I’m not to blame, and I’ve let it drag me down forever. You can’t even imagine the ways I let it drag me down.”
You got a chip on your shoulder about money, Keelie . . .
She might have laughed a little if she thought it wouldn’t come out like a sob. Looking back at the building where she lived, she wondered what Zane might say if he knew the truth.
“It changed everything I am—shaped everything I do. And I’m tired of it. But I can’t move past it without doing something. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“You’re going back home.”
“I’m going back . . . but it’s not home. Arizona is.” The words felt like a death knell. When she’d left that place, she hadn’t ever wanted to go back. Hadn’t ever wanted to see the cool, collected face of her mother, or look into the sly, scheming eyes of her stepbrother, the icy mask that was her stepfather. They had done everything they could to convince her to forget the incident. The harder they tried, the more trouble she’d caused. She became the poster-child for a troubled youth. Bribes of shopping trips, a car for her sixteenth birthday, none of it had worked. She hadn’t understood why they’d kept her as long as the
y had—why they’d even wanted her to begin with.
Not until years later, during one late-night discussion with Paul Jenkins.
That was probably why there was somebody trying to hunt her down now.
She’d save them the trouble. Why not take this right to them?
“Let me come with you,” Zane said, his voice low, warm, a coaxing comfort that she so badly wanted to indulge in.
“No.” It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Even after just a couple of weeks, she was already counting on him to be there. She knew why, now.
He always had been there. Just waiting. For her.
She was ready for that now. Ready to see where this led, what would happen.
But she had to free herself first, do this one thing.
“Why?”
“Because they silenced me once. I was too scared, too young, too naïve to know what to do. I’m not that kid anymore, but if I don’t take this one step on my own, some part of me is always going to feel like that scared, foolish girl.” That admission took all the courage she had in her.
She’d had no courage, no self-confidence, no pride when she left that house, and she hadn’t deserved it. It had taken her years to be able to look at her own reflection without flinching.
This one thing might help her finally accept what she’d done. What she’d failed to do.
So damn it, she’d do it. Alone.
“How long?”
She closed her eyes against the disappointment, the bitterness in his voice. “I don’t know. Hopefully no more than a week. I’ll probably have to go back, but at least I’ll be able to plan for it better. I’ll know more once I get there and talk to whoever I need to talk to.”
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