by Eve Gaddy
“You look like shit,” Gabe said.
“Yeah, well I feel like it, too.” He went around behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Reached over and picked up a shot glass and carried both around to the other side of the bar.
“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning,” Gabe said, watching him splash liquid into the glass.
“Yeah, so?” Thank God today was Monday and the restaurant was closed. He tossed the liquor back and refilled his glass.
“You don’t do this. You always—”
Cam said something short and crude that shut Gabe up. Raised his glass and said, “If you’re going to say I told you so, go ahead and do it. But don’t be surprised if I punch you in the face.”
Gabe grinned. “You can try if it will make you feel better.” Sobering, he said, “You’re really stuck on her, aren’t you?”
Cam didn’t speak, he just drank more. Naturally, his brother didn’t give up. Cam hadn’t really expected him to.
“It’s not just sex, is it?”
“No. Goddamn it. It’s more.”
“So what’s the problem? Other than the fact she lied to you, I mean?”
He looked at Gabe. “She’s married.”
“Oh.” He added a word that perfectly expressed Cam’s feelings.
Cam laughed and poured again. “Yeah. To an abusive son of a bitch,” he continued. “And she can’t get a divorce because she’s afraid he’ll kill her if he finds her.” He watched Gabe when he added, “Like he killed his first wife.”
“Wow.” For a minute Gabe just looked at him. “Do you believe her?”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“But you do.”
Cam nodded. “Tell me how incredibly stupid I’m being.”
Gabe shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you that. If you believe her, knowing she’s lied before, I’ve got to think you have a reason.”
“I do. The son of a bitch choked her. I saw the bruises on her neck the first night she was here.” He gulped more whiskey. “She had his fingerprints on her neck, Gabe. It makes me sick to think of him doing that to her.”
“Damn. This sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
They were both silent. Cam was starting to feel the liquor but it wasn’t helping. He was pretty sure nothing would.
“You want to go fishing?” Gabe asked after awhile.
“You think fishing’s the answer to everything.”
“It is,” his brother said.
“What the hell.” He stood and picked up the bottle. “You fish. I’ll drink.”
“You’re on,” Gabe said.
DELILAH DIDN’T KNOW what else to do, so she stayed. Partly because Cam was right and she was as safe or safer than if she moved on. But mostly because she didn’t want to leave Cam. She didn’t want to think about never seeing him again. Not yet. She wasn’t that strong.
She knew Cam had left with Gabe because she’d looked out the window and seen them getting into Gabe’s truck. So whatever he was doing, at least he was with his brother. She didn’t want him to be alone. And while Gabe couldn’t stand her, he obviously cared about his brother.
Around ten, she heard a noise and got up to check it. It was coming from the kitchen. As she stood back in the shadows, Gabe and Cam came in the door. Gabe had his arm around Cam, supporting him, though from what she could see, Cam was trying to shove him away.
She heard Gabe say, “Just shut up,” in exasperated tones. She couldn’t make out Cam’s mumbled reply. Not wanting them to see her, she ducked back into her room. But the brief glimpse she’d had of Cam chilled her. He looked terrible.
She heard them stumbling down the hall to Cam’s room, banging into the walls a couple of times. The door slammed shut. A little while later, Gabe came out. Delilah was waiting for him. “Is he—is he all right?”
He stared at her so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “He’s miles from all right. He’s trashed.” He took a step toward her. She stood her ground, though it cost her. “I just poured him into bed.”
“He’s—he’s been drinking?”
Gabe laughed harshly. “Yeah, he tried to crawl into a bottle to see if he could forget you. How does it feel to drive a man to drink, Delilah? You’re some piece of work, you know that?” His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Cam doesn’t get trashed. Ever.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her throat tight with tears she couldn’t shed.
“Oh, wait. I’m wrong.” Gabe smiled at her cynically. “He did this one other time. When he caught his fiancée cheating on him.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that. “He told you, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. She knew he had.
“Yeah. He needed to talk to someone he could trust.” He sneered the last word.
When she didn’t speak, he continued, his voice growing harsher, angrier with every word he spoke. “Why did you do it? He would have helped you, no matter what. You didn’t have to get him in the sack to make sure of that.”
“I didn’t—”
He interrupted her, ruthlessly overriding her protest. “You knew it. You couldn’t have worked for him two days without knowing he helps every damn stray who comes to him. My God, all you have to do is listen to the lousy bands he lets play at the Parrot to know what he’s like. Were you jerking him around for the hell of it? Were you just bored? Or—”
“Stop it!” She wanted to put her hands over her ears but it wouldn’t help. She’d still hear the words. Still feel the contempt and anger. Still feel the soul sickness that she’d lied to Cam and broken his faith one more time.
“Tell me, goddamn it. Tell me why you—”
“I’m in love with him!” She fought back tears, knowing once she started crying she would break down entirely. Gabe was staring at her, and she realized that for once she’d robbed him of words.
“I love him. That’s why I slept with him.” Drained, empty, she looked at him. She was tired. So damn tired. “Get out of my room.”
Gabe stepped back. She heard him say her name as she closed the door in his face.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT FEW DAYS were a torture Cam never wanted to repeat. He treated Delilah coldly, impersonally. Tried to pretend she was just another employee, but they both knew she wasn’t. Every time he looked at her, he remembered holding her, making love to her. And he remembered the lie.
Every night he lay in bed wanting her, knowing he couldn’t have her. Every morning he woke up aching for her. If he’d thought it was bad before he’d made love to her, now it was a thousand times worse.
Every night he asked himself the same question. Could he really blame her for lying? Given the circumstances, her absolute terror and certainty that Avery Freeman would kill her if he found her, he wasn’t sure he could blame her.
Not at first.
But later. It always came back to the same thing. She hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth. Not until it was too late.
Not surprisingly, the endless loop of his emotions being at war made him bad-tempered, miserable company. He was abrupt with his staff, curt to his patrons. As for his family, with the exception of Gabe, he avoided them. Gabe already knew everything and didn’t make the mistake of thinking he wanted to talk.
So Cat had sicced his brother-in-law Mark on him when he couldn’t help but deal with him. At two in the afternoon on a weekday, the place was empty, and Cam was the only one working. Resigning himself, he slid a coaster in front of Mark. “Your usual?”
Mark grinned. He loved that Cam owed him free beer for life. Cam would have thought he’d let it go after a year or so, but no such luck. He didn’t abuse it, he never had more than one, but once or twice a week he’d come in and make sure Cam paid up.
“No beer for me. I’ve got some more errands to run. Better make it iced tea.”
“Lucky me,” Cam said, picking up the pitcher and pouring a glass.
“Today
you are. You shouldn’t bet against a sure thing,” Mark said with another smile, referring to the bet Cam had lost before Mark and Cat had married, the one that had netted him the free beer. “Who could resist Cat?”
“Not you, obviously,” Cam said. He hadn’t trusted Mark at first but over the years they’d become good friends. Now he didn’t even mind that he’d lost the bet with Gail since it meant Mark had become his brother-in-law.
“So, what’s going on?” Cam asked, setting Mark’s drink in front of him.
“It’s like this.” He took a sip of tea. “Since she and Gail both struck out, Cat’s been trying for three days to pump Gabe. He’s not talking. Which, since Gabe has a notoriously big mouth, is driving her bonkers. So she sent me over here. I’m supposed to be subtle and find out what’s going on with you and Delilah, but I don’t do subtle.”
Cam frowned. The last thing he needed was his sister—either of them—hounding him. He should have known they wouldn’t give up so easily. “Nothing’s going on. Cat needs to butt out.” He gave the bar a frustrated rub. “Why did she send you to do her dirty work?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “If you were married you wouldn’t have to ask that. Come on, Cam. Cat thinks you’ll talk to me because I’m a guy and not related. And if you don’t, then I have to go back home and listen to my wife yammer at me.”
“Not my problem. You’re on your own, buddy.”
“Rumor has it you have the hots for the lady in question. And that there’s trouble in paradise.”
“Rumor has a nasty way of being wrong. And if Martha’s been talking—”
Mark laughed. “Get real, Cam. Of course, Martha’s talking. You can’t go to work every day with the disposition of a boa constrictor and expect her not to talk. Remember, this is Martha.”
If Cam had any sense he’d fire her. But he knew he wouldn’t. “Give it a rest, Mark,” he said wearily. “I’m not going to talk about it.”
Mark studied him for a minute. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Cam said, and they both knew he was lying. He refilled Mark’s tea and they started discussing the latest ball game.
Mark glanced at the door, at the man who had just walked in. “Wonder what he’s doing here?”
Tall, dark hair, sharp eyes. Cam’s gut tightened. He hadn’t pegged him yet, but he had a feeling the man was bad news. “Who is he?”
“He’s a private investigator out of Houston. Got any ideas why he’d be here?”
“No.” He hoped. A P.I. from Houston. Coincidence? Maybe, but he was getting a very bad feeling.
Mark greeted the man. “Hey, Waxman. What brings you to our little slice of paradise?”
“Business.” He shook hands, then took the bar stool next to Mark. “But I wouldn’t mind a cold one. A draft for me,” he said to Cam.
To Mark he said, “I heard you got hitched and transferred to some hole in the wall.” He leaned on the bar, glancing around with a superior air that made Cam want to slug him.
“Yep, married, kids, the whole shebang.”
“Better you than me,” Waxman said with a laugh. “How’s it been going, Mark? Long time no see.”
“Can’t complain. Haven’t seen you since that case we worked on in Dallas. Stolen pets, remember? Gotta be six or seven years ago now.”
“That’d be about right.”
“Still in the detective business?”
Waxman nodded and took a drink of his beer. “What can I say, it pays the rent.”
“What are you looking for this time?”
“Not what. Who.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture, showing it to both of them as he handed it to Cam. “Either of you seen this woman anywhere?”
Mark’s gaze flicked to Cam, then back to the detective. He whistled. “Never seen her. Wouldn’t mind if I did, though.”
He’d known who it was the instant the guy pulled out the picture. But he’d never seen this Delilah, sophisticated, smooth, sexy as sin in a short black cocktail dress with diamonds around her throat and hanging from her ears.
“Sorry.” He shook his head and handed it back. “Who is she?”
“Anne Freeman, though she probably isn’t going by that name. Her husband’s pretty frantic.” He drank some more beer, wiped his mouth. “She skipped town several weeks ago and nothing will convince him she left of her own free will. He’s positive something bad is going on. Says he reported her missing the day after she disappeared, but the cops haven’t found anything. He got tired of waiting, I guess.”
He put the picture back in his pocket and laughed. “Personally, I think he ought to check the bank vault. Young, sexy, hungry. Those hot ones are all alike. Especially when the sizzler in question hooks up with a guy twenty years or so older than she is.”
Cameron didn’t say anything. He prayed Delilah wouldn’t finish up in his office and come out. If he could have left without making the man suspicious he’d have gone to warn her. He pulled out a towel and polished the bar, wishing the man would leave.
“Any particular reason you came to Aransas City?” Mark asked.
“Got a tip she might be headed south, along the coast. Do you know how many two-bit, hick towns there are along the Texas coast?”
“Watch it,” Mark said. “I live here and I happen to like it.”
“Sorry. Well, I need to get moving. No woman, no bonus.” He drained his beer and threw some bills on the counter, along with a business card. “Here’s my card if you do happen to see her. My cell phone’s on there. Give me a call if you’re ever in Houston.”
Cam waited until the door closed behind the man before speaking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I like Delilah,” Mark said simply. “Figured Waxman showing around her photo wasn’t good news.” He waited a beat and added, “So, she’s married?”
Cam looked at him. “Yeah. And she’s afraid her husband will kill her if he finds her.”
“Why doesn’t she go to the police?”
“Too long of a story,” Cam said. “Right now I need to go tell her about this.” He turned and looked back at Mark before he left the room. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Mark said.
DELILAH LOOKED UP when Cam entered the office. Since he’d been avoiding her whenever possible, she was a little surprised. Then she saw his face.
“What’s wrong?” She got up and walked over to him, laying a hand on his arm. “Cam, what is it?”
“A private detective came into the bar asking about you. Freeman sent him.”
The blood drained from her face. She grabbed him, her nails digging into his arm. “A private investigator was here? In the restaurant? What did you tell him? Oh, my God, does he know I’m here?”
“What kind of bastard do you think I am? Of course I didn’t tell him. Neither did Mark. No one else was there.”
She dropped his arm and moved away, pacing the small office. “Oh, God, I knew this might happen but…” She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “He’ll find me. I know he will.” She whirled and started for the door.
“Delilah, wait.” He took her arm, restraining her. “You’re safe. The PI doesn’t know you’re here. There’s no reason for him to come back.”
She could hardly think. She fought a sense of panic, knowing it wouldn’t help. “Are you insane? If a private detective has gotten this far, it’s only a matter of time. What if he asks around town? I have to leave. I’m not staying here like a sitting duck, waiting for Avery to find me and kill me.” She jerked out of his hold and fumbled with the door. An instant later, she was out.
She ran down the hall and crashed into someone. For a minute she didn’t know who it was and she smothered a scream. A man cursed and grabbed her arms. She looked up into Gabe Randolph’s dark brown eyes.
God, could this day get any worse?
“Let go of me.”
He ignored her struggles to free herself. “What’s the matter with you? You were running
out of the office like a crazy person.”
“Let me go. I have to go.” She thumped a fist on his chest, but he held on, impervious.
“Let her go, Gabe.”
Gabe looked at Cam, then dropped her arms. She fled.
“WHAT THE HELL is going on?” Gabe asked.
“I just told her a P.I. was in here asking about her. She’s freaking out.”
“Yeah, I got that. Does he know anything?”
Cam shook his head. “He’s checking out towns along the coast. She’s safe for now.”
“You’d better go convince her of that.”
“I intend to,” Cam said grimly.
“Wait a minute,” Gabe said when Cam would have gone. “I’ve been watching you both the past few days. I’ve never seen two more miserable human beings.”
“I don’t have time for this, Gabe.”
“You’re crazy in love with her.”
“And your point is? She lied—”
“Yeah, she lied,” Gabe interrupted. “You remember that day you got so wasted?”
“I remember the hangover the next day. Not much else is clear.”
“I talked to her that night, after I left you. I was pissed and I blasted her, let her have it with both barrels. I asked her why she’d slept with you when she must have known you’d have helped her anyway. She said she was in love with you.”
“And you believed her? You? You’re the one who thought she was bad news from the first.”
Gabe shrugged. “Maybe I changed my mind. I don’t think she was lying about that.”
“Even if it’s true, what the hell am I supposed to do? What difference does it make when she’s too scared to do anything except take off?”
“I don’t know. But if it was me, I’d try like hell to get her to go to the cops.”
Gabe was right. He hadn’t pushed enough before. Maybe the scare she’d just had would help change her mind. “Take care of the restaurant,” Cam told him. “Martha’s here. Tell her to help you.”
