And obviously Brit wasn’t going to back down.
“Tell you what. I’ll have a talk with him. In a week, if you’re still having a problem, we’ll figure out what we need to do.”
Brit didn’t look happy, but she nodded, then turned and left.
Poor kid. She felt bad for Brit, but she couldn’t fire someone on the grounds of a wounded ego. She made a mental note to talk to Tom about it in a way that wouldn’t embarrass Brit further.
At times she felt like a referee. It wasn’t unusual for the counselors to get into tiffs every now and then. Sometimes it was like living in a soap opera. She’d even broken up a catfight or two in her three years.
But she was sure as always everything would work out.
Chapter 8
Will crouched behind a tree several hundred yards from the narrow trail, catching his breath and watching as Abi made her way back down the incline that would take her out of the forest. He slapped at the mosquito chewing on his neck and wiped away the sweat rolling down the side of his face.
Doing this for a week was going to be a lot tougher than he’d thought. This was no leisurely stroll she took. She moved with swift efficiency and determination. He considered himself in supreme physical condition and still had trouble keeping up with her. Doing it quietly and off a path of any kind was another issue altogether.
The forest floor was a complicated maze of dried twigs, fallen logs and ratty underbrush. He’d tripped at least a dozen times, fallen twice and three times he’d almost lost sight of her. If it hadn’t been for her bright yellow T-shirt, it would have been impossible to track her.
Soon, when she was close enough to the main building to make it safely the rest of the way, he would break off and head back to his cabin for a shower. Already he could hear sounds of civilization, people leaving the dining room and heading to various activities. Through the trees he could see flashes of the maintenance building roof.
He started to move, then heard a noise from behind him—the crunch of twigs snapping. He stopped and listened but heard only silence. Probably just an animal, he decided. A few times during the hike he’d heard noises and had seen nothing. Probably just his mind playing tricks on him again.
He began slowly making his way down a steep decline and he heard it again, unmistakable footsteps. He spun around and through the dense foliage saw movement. Movement too large to be an animal.
Someone was out there.
Heart pounding, he started to back up but lost his footing and slid several feet down through slimy decaying leaves and mud and landed on his rear end. He cursed and pushed himself to his feet, but by the time he regained his footing and looked around, whoever it was had disappeared. He turned and searched for Abi, but she was gone, too.
Damn it.
All weekend he’d kept Abi in his sights—close enough to keep an eye on her but not so close that she mistook him for a stalker—and he hadn’t noticed anyone acting suspiciously or hanging around her too much. No one besides him, that is.
Now there was no doubt—someone had been following either him or Abi.
Robbins was supposed to call that evening with whatever information he’d obtained from the names Will had given him. Will hoped he found something so he could quietly remove whomever was shadowing them.
Before someone was hurt.
Two and a half hours later Will sat in the circle of chairs within the small group of men and women—eight including himself—feeling like a complete and total idiot. This therapy thing was so not him, but he didn’t exactly have a choice.
“Group, we have a new member,” Eve, the therapist announced, then smiled at Will. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Oh, jeez. “My name is Will Bishop.”
“Hi, Will,” the group said in unison, and he nearly choked. It was like every cliché he’d ever seen on television.
“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
“Like what?” he asked and prayed silently, God, please get me the hell out of here.
“Where you’re from, what you do for a living.”
“I live in New York and I work for the government.”
Eve watched him expectantly. “And…”
Will shrugged. “And that’s about it.”
“Divorced? In the process of?”
“Divorced,” he said, then added, “twice.” And got a collective “oh” from the others.
“I just divorced wife number five,” one of the men, Larry, told him. Will had played golf with him once and he seemed like a decent guy. Though Will had to wonder what sane man would get married five times.
“Don’t you mean bimbo number five?” one of the women said bitterly. She appeared to be in her midthirties, but her face looked haggard and tired. She was petite, blond and angry. Really angry.
“Claire,” Eve said in a patient tone, “remember what we talked about? We’re here to help each other, not condemn.”
“Her husband left her for a younger woman,” Larry told Will, then turned to Claire. “Can I help it if I like ’em young?”
“They’re not young,” Claire shot back. “They’re toddlers.”
“Why do you suppose it is that you gravitate toward younger women?” Eve asked Larry.
Larry shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”
“Classic midlife crisis,” Jade, a guest that Will had met at the beach, said. She was tall and slender and wore long, flowing, colorful clothing. She was quiet and serene and always looked as if she were either at peace with the world or taking heavy doses of Valium. “It’s your way of trying to hang on to your youth,” she said calmly. “But the truth is, it only makes you feel older.”
“These women who steal husbands are a bunch of bloodsucking, gold-digging vampires,” Claire said, her voice quivering with bottled anger.
“Oh, please,” the third woman said indignantly. She was younger. Young enough to be one of those vampires Claire was referring to. “You’re just angry because you couldn’t hold on to your husband.”
“So, Carla,” Eve said, “you think Jade and Claire are being unfair?”
It went on like that for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Will just sat back and listened. He had to admit it was interesting, but he didn’t feel as if he had anything to contribute or anything in common with these people. He knew exactly what his problem was and he’d fixed it: he was a lousy husband, which he could avoid by not getting married again. Pretty simple.
But being here was his only way to keep Abi safe.
If they had been in a different situation, he might have dated Abi a few times, then brushed her off—especially when he found out she had a son. He wouldn’t have given their relationship—friendship or otherwise—a chance to develop.
Now he wanted to know what made her tick, what caused this desire to be close to her, why he’d kissed her when his conscience told him it was wrong and why he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again.
After the session Will headed to the dining room for lunch. As he cleared the doorway, he gazed around and found exactly what he was looking for—Abi sitting alone at a table near the back.
When she didn’t have her son, she always sat alone. He wondered why. She must be friends with the staff. Why did she seclude herself?
When his eyes landed on her, as if sensing she was being watched, she looked up. He didn’t get the usual wary look from her. This time she flashed him a timid smile, and damn, she was pretty. He wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn’t seem afraid of him. Well, Friday night she hadn’t appeared wary of him at all, but he thought that had a lot more to do with the wine than their developing friendship. He wondered what had happened to her to make her so guarded, so distrustful. Who had hurt her and what had they done to make her so withdrawn and timid?
It was a trait Adam apparently hadn’t inherited. The terms withdrawn and timid factored nowhere into his personality. All weekend the kid had followed Will around,
talking a million miles an hour. Before his time with Ryan’s family, Will had never considered himself a kid person. Now he didn’t mind so much. Not that he was in a rush to run out and have any. But Adam was a nice kid, and being around him had made it easier for Will to stay close to his mother.
Will fixed himself a plate and headed over to Abi’s table. Without asking, he pulled out the chair across from her.
“So,” she asked before his butt even hit the seat, “how did it go?”
“How did what go?” he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.
She gave him an impatient look. “The therapy.”
“Oh, that,” he said casually. He draped his napkin in his lap. “It was…interesting.”
She looked pleased. “That’s a start, I guess.”
She’d checked the list that morning and after seeing his name, had peeked into the therapy room to be sure he’d really attended. He had, though he hadn’t appeared to be doing anything more than watching. That was normal, though. It might take him a few sessions to warm up to the idea, to open up to the other members of the group.
“I know I’m not supposed to talk about what happened in the session, but I have to say, there are some really angry women at this retreat.”
“Sadly there are,” she agreed. “Anger is the—”
“Second stage of the grieving process,” Will recited for her. “I saw the poster.”
Will took a bite of his salad, and Abi watched him chew, the way the sharp line of his jaw flexed and his throat contracted when he swallowed. She remembered the way she’d touched his face when they’d kissed. The contrast between the two sides. The uneven, almost velvety surface of his scar and the raspy brush of his beard stubble on the other. It had been so long since she’d touched a man that way—touched a man at all. It had made her feel warm and dizzy and excited. Almost feverish.
Not unlike the dreams she’d had last night. They’d been disjointed and hazy but so vivid in passionate detail she’d awoken feeling fidgety and anxious. Even her morning hike hadn’t been enough to settle the restlessness.
“You’re doing it again,” Will said, grinning at her.
She realized she’d completely zoned out, her eyes on his face. What was her problem? Why couldn’t she stop staring at him?
She lowered her eyes, felt her cheeks color. “Sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that.”
“If it were anyone but you, it might bother me.” He took another bite of salad, chewing slowly, eyes on her, and she had to fight not to stare back. She took a bite of her sandwich, but the bread felt dry and spongy in her mouth.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
She nodded, eyes on her plate. “Sure.”
“Why do you always sit alone?”
She didn’t usually. She had the first few days of the session only because she’d wanted to keep an eye on Eric and hadn’t wanted to be distracted by conversation. And though she would never admit it to Will—it shamed her to admit it to herself—the past two days she’d sat alone in the hopes he would sit with her. Which he had. Both Saturday and Sunday they’d shared lunch together.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on a few of the kids.” A half-truth. She didn’t like to lie, not anymore. That was a practice she’d abandoned long ago. But she did have her pride to consider.
“Would you prefer it if I moved to another table?”
“Of course not,” she told him, then added, “I enjoy your company.”
“Me, too,” he said. “And Abi, it’s okay if you look at me. I don’t mind.”
She looked up and saw that he was giving her that infectious lopsided smile. He was adorable and he knew it, darn it, to the point of being a little smug about it, but she couldn’t help smiling back.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Will said, “Looks like your matchmaking didn’t work, huh?”
She followed his eyes to the table where Eric sat alone and all the way across to the opposite side where Leanne shared a table with her father.
“I really thought they might like each other,” Abi told Will. “I guess I was wrong.”
Will took a swallow of his soda and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it’s better that way, since guests aren’t supposed to get involved with other guests.”
“They’re just kids. They can be friends.”
“He’s—what?—about sixteen, seventeen? When I was that age, I only thought about one thing.”
“Will, she’s only fifteen. She’s too young for…whatever you’re suggesting.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it was like when you were that age.”
That was something she would never forget, as much as she would like to erase that part of her life from her memory. But what she had been like at that age had nothing to do with what normal teenagers experienced. Will would be appalled if she were to tell him how old she was the first time she’d let a boy talk her into the backseat of a car.
Leanne’s parents were getting divorced, but she’d had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents, an older sibling to look up to.
So different from Abi’s life.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Abi said. “She’s not that kind of kid.”
Will shrugged. “If you think so.”
She did. She worked with kids all the time. She certainly knew them better than he did and resented his questioning her judgment. He seemed to do that an awful lot.
Honestly she questioned herself enough for the both of them. Maybe that’s why it bothered her so much.
“You’re angry,” he said. “I can tell by the way you’re clenching your jaw. You do that when you’re upset.”
She realized he was right. Her jaw was clenched so tight she was giving herself a headache. She took a deep breath and made an effort to relax the muscles in her face.
“I don’t mean to second-guess you. I just have this habit of playing devil’s advocate. In my line of work, sometimes it’s difficult to see anything but the negative. I’m sorry.”
It was funny how those two little words could soften her up. Maybe because she’d heard them so little in her life. Or because she knew that for him the words didn’t come easily. When Will said “I’m sorry,” she knew he truly meant it.
“You’re forgiven,” she told him, both hating and loving the way he made her feel. “Besides, if we have to worry about anyone showing inappropriate behavior, it’s Leanne’s sister, Cindy.”
“She has a history?”
She opened her mouth to answer him, then stopped herself. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”
She glanced at her watch. The under-fives afternoon arts-and-crafts session began in less than ten minutes and she’d promised Adam she would stop in for a few minutes. She rarely passed up the opportunity to spend time with her son. He always came first. “I have to get back to work.”
“Will you be eating dinner in the dining room tonight?”
“Most likely.”
He flashed her that grin again and she could swear she felt her heart flutter. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”
She could play devil’s advocate, too, she thought as she stood and walked toward the door feeling the weight of Will’s gaze on her back. A little voice deep inside was telling her that Will had worked his way under her skin with far too much ease. And despite his faults, of which he admittedly had many, he was just too…perfect. He always seemed to do and say the right thing. And when he made a mistake, he always managed to turn it around and use it to his favor. She couldn’t decide if he was incredibly clever or just naturally charming. And she couldn’t shake the feeling she was making a mistake.
She seemed to be feeling that an awful lot lately.
Chapter 9
The call Will had been waiting for came Wednesday morning after his group therapy session.
“Ran the names,” Robbins said.<
br />
“You said Monday or Tuesday,” Will barked. He was getting freaking whiplash watching Abi’s and his own back—because someone had undoubtedly been following them Monday, Tuesday and again this morning.
But whether that person was following him or Abi, he wasn’t sure. Whoever it was had been determined to stay hidden, keeping far enough away so that by the time he was discovered, he had time to disappear before Will could get to him.
“It took some extra time because I had to dig pretty deep,” Robbins told him.
“And?”
“And nothing. It was a dead end. Everyone checked out. I found some shady accounting practices and one sexual indiscretion involving an underage prostitute, but no one is linked to the Sardoni family.”
Will felt equal parts relief and frustration. Someone had been following them. If it wasn’t a member of the Sardonis, then who was it? And why?
“You’re one hundred percent sure about this?” he asked Robbins.
“Unless there was someone you missed. A member of the staff maybe?”
“I checked. Other than that new guy, Tom, they’ve all been with the retreat at least a year.”
“Will, you should be relieved. Whatever the Sardonis were talking about, it wasn’t you.”
If he told Robbins what had been happening, that he’d been followed and could possibly be in danger, it was quite possible—probable, in fact—that Robbins would insist on sending another agent in or at the very least contacting the Denver office, and Will’s cover would be blown to hell.
He couldn’t take that risk.
“I am relieved,” Will said. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“How’s it going? Any closer to meeting the owner?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“So you, uh, seeing a shrink? That is what they do there, right?”
“Group therapy,” Will snapped. “And yes, I’m going.”
“Good, if anyone needs it, you do.”
Will told him exactly where he could shove his opinion, and Robbins did something he didn’t do very often.
Out of Sight Page 9
