A Killing Kind of Love: A Dark, Standalone Romantic Suspense

by EC Sheedy

  “Let’s get this over with.” Paul nodded toward the two long sofas in front of the fireplace. Edwin and Dan took one of them; Paul and Jason took the other. Set up like chess pieces, Dan thought, as he settled into the rich leather.

  Jason Wallace calmly pulled a document from his slim leather case. “This document negates Mr. Lambert’s claim to Kylie and shows clearly his wife’s intentions in the matter of her daughter.” He passed the papers to Eddie Maddox, sat back, and glanced at his watch. Dan had the impression he was in a hurry—or perhaps unused to making house calls.

  Dan’s stomach did a minor pitch-and-roll. He didn’t like the look of those papers or the too-confident lawyer presenting them. And then there was Holly. Hell, you never knew what the hell Holly might have done—or not done. For the first time his confidence faltered.

  Jesus, if he lost Kylie . . .

  Maddox flipped through the pages and said, “I don’t think so.” He took a solid swig of what Dan knew was the best liquor he’d ever tasted, set the proffered papers aside, and dug into his own briefcase. Unlike Wallace’s, his bulged to ripping point. When he had the papers he wanted flattened precariously on his knees, he took another drink, looked around, and said, “Where is Mrs. Bruce?” He looked at the documents, narrowed his eyes. “Camryn Angela Bruce.”

  Paul frowned, Dan set his drink on the table, and Wallace had no reaction at all, other than the barest raise of a brow.

  What the hell.

  “What are you talking about?” Paul said, cocking his head.

  “According to the dates on each of the documents, these”— Maddox tapped a finger on the pages resting on his knees— “supersede those of Mister Wallace and designate Camryn Angela Bruce as guardian.”

  Both Dan and Paul shot to their feet in unison.

  Dan stared at Maddox, still trying to make sense of what he’d said. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m Kylie’s guardian.”

  “Over my dead body,” Paul said, adding, “Talk to this idiot, will you, Jason?” He glared at Maddox.

  Wallace set his drink on the table, untouched, and reached for the document Eddie Maddox now held out to him. He quickly scanned it, stopping at the signatory page. “He’s right, Paul. This supersedes the prior guardianship arrangement. It appears genuine.”

  Eddie took instant affront. “Of course it’s genuine.”

  Paul looked at Jason Wallace. “What the hell happened? She saw you less than two weeks ago.”

  “If you’re referring to the appointment you set up, she called and cancelled. When I attempted to reschedule, she said she’d call after she’d talked to her husband, who was”—he glanced at Dan—“apparently due back any day.”

  “Why didn’t you call me, let me know?” Paul said. Wallace gave a spare shrug. “Why would I? Holly wasn’t the first person to delay an appointment, and the issue wasn’t pressing. I assumed you knew about it.”

  Maddox again dug into his case. “There’s a letter. It’s sealed and addressed to Mr. Grantman. It was in trust with the guardianship. Same date—three months after the one shown on your document.” He looked at Wallace, not above showing relish at his legal victory.

  Paul tore the envelope from Maddox’s hand, ripped it open. His hands started shaking even before he flipped to the second and last page. “Jesus,” he muttered. When he’d finished reading, his face was ashen, and the hand holding the letter dropped to his side like a dead thing.

  Dan figured he knew what was in that letter—a whole lot of words a father would not want to hear. The only problem was he expected it to be attached to papers naming him, not some stranger, as guardian to Kylie. “Let me see that document,” he said, sure his face was as devoid of color as Paul’s. Hell, it felt as if his blood had iced up in his veins, and reading the legalese, checking the document dates, did nothing to warm it.

  Kylie was going to Camryn Bruce. His mind black and thick, Dan tossed the document on the coffee table. “This is bullshit,” he said.

  “Maybe so.” Maddox drained his glass. “But unfortunately for you, Mr. Lambert, it’s legal bullshit—and as such documents go, this one is clear and without ambiguity.” He hesitated. “When she came to me to prepare them, she advised me there was another document, one that she’d felt”— he looked at Paul—“coerced into signing shortly after the child was born. She said she’d talked about her daughter with her friend, and her friend had agreed to be her daughter’s guardian. It was what she wanted, and I—to steal a quote from Star Trek—’made it so.’ I’m sorry, Mister Grantman, if this distresses you, but her wishes were very clear. She did not want either you or your wife—Erin, is it?—to raise her child.”

  “This is outrageous,” Paul sputtered. “I won’t stand for it. If there’s a legal course to take, you can bet I’ll be on it. Jason?” He shot a hard glance toward his lawyer.

  “We have some moves,” he replied, his tone low and, Dan thought, his words purposely vague.

  Maddox shrugged. “In this profession, there’s always a ‘course’ to take. Although in this situation, my legal opinion”—he looked at Jason Wallace—“tells me it would be costly and ultimately fruitless.” He shrugged again. “But, of course, what you do is your decision.”

  “Damn straight,” Paul said.

  Maddox shifted his attention to Dan. “Not that it affects things, Mr. Lambert, but I think it’s only fair you know that Holly did call me recently. She told me you and she had had a ‘rough spot’—her words—but that you’d worked things out.” He paused. “She wanted to come in, she said, after her time in Boston and talk over some changes with regard to her will and the guardianship arrangements. Unfortunately, she offered no specifics regarding either issue.” He stood, a small man, probably a head shorter than Dan. “That appointment was for next week.” He stopped again, looked uncomfortable for the first time since he’d blasted into the room. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Not as goddamn sorry as I am.” Dan felt dim, as if his brain had gone out. He decided to keep his mouth shut until he’d figured things out. He’d expected to fight Grantman, but the idea of squaring off in a custody battle with Camryn Bruce, a woman he barely knew, was too fresh in his head to make sense of it.

  Maddox asked calmly, “Is the child here?”

  Grantman, looking as if he were chewing bullets, glared at the sturdy young lawyer and said nothing.

  Maddox was unmoved. “Mister Grantman, there’s really no purpose to be served by delaying the inevitable.”

  Grantman glanced at Jason Wallace, raised a brow as if demanding a legal leg to stand on.

  Jason shook his head.

  “She’s with my wife,” Paul said through a jaw so tight it looked painful.

  Maddox waited, arched a brow.

  “About an hour outside of Boston.”

  “Fine. Now I’d like to speak to Mrs. Bruce, please.” Maddox met Jason’s flat gaze and added, “You and your client can remain if you wish.”

  “I have no intention of involving myself in this charade—particularly as there is no way Camryn will retain custody of my granddaughter.”

  “Then perhaps you can fill your time by calling your wife and instructing her to bring the child home as quickly as possible.”

  “Jesus, I’m her grandfather, for God’s sake. What’s the hurry?”

  “I have a plane to catch, and before I leave, I mean to ensure that my client’s wishes have been seen to, and those wishes were that all parties be properly apprised of their positions in regard to the custody issue.” He raised his hands, half smiled. “The sooner that’s done, the sooner I’m gone, and you may initiate any action you wish.”

  “Fine by me,” Grantman said through gritted teeth. He headed for the door and without looking back said, “Jason, come with me.”

  Maddox watched them go, shook his head, and looked at Dan. “You’re staying, I presume.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “I know this comes
as a surprise, Mr. Lambert. Not at all what you expected when you asked me to fly down here.”

  “Surprised, yes. But pissed is more accurate.”

  For a moment Maddox looked uncomfortable. “I hope you understand there was nothing I could do. My instructions were clear.” He paused. “And, truth be told, I feel sorry for Camryn Bruce.”

  “Why? It looks to me as if she’s the clear winner in all this.”

  Maddox raised his calm gaze to what Dan knew would be his turbulent one. “Grantman won’t let go, and I suspect neither will you. The woman is in for a very rough time. Legally speaking.”

  “I’d say you’re right.” Dan knew that Grantman wasn’t going down without a fight, and neither would he. Although his methods might be considerably more . . . personal than Paul’s. Dan intended to look out for, and be part of his daughter’s future, and he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure that.

  Not everything had to be legal.

  Camryn poked her head in the door, her expression quizzical. “Paul said there was someone here to see me.” She stepped into the room. “I remember you. You’re Holly’s lawyer. We met when—” She stopped.

  “Yes. Edwin Maddox, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, but I’m curious about why you’re here in Boston.”

  “Mr. Lambert asked me to come—although I’m not sure the outcome was what he expected.”

  She glanced at Dan. “Which makes me even more curious.”

  Maddox handed her the guardianship document. “Holly wants you to care for her child.” He nodded at the papers in her hand. “It’s all in there, just as you and she agreed two-and-a-half years ago. “

  Her mouth slackened, and her shocked gaze lifted to Dan’s, then flew back to Maddox. “But this isn’t—”

  “Right?” Dan finished for her.

  She closed her mouth. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s all in there.”

  “Yes, but—” Again her eyes met Dan’s. He hoped his gave away nothing.

  Maddox bent to the sofa, gathered up a stray paper, and stuffed it into his case. “Everything’s in order. Mr. Grantman will have Kylie here shortly.” He handed her his card. “I have a plane to catch. If you have any further questions, call me when you get back to Seattle.” He glanced at Dan. “There’s a chance you’ll need someone in your corner.” He walked out.

  When they were alone, Dan walked the few steps it took to bring them face to face. The woman looked shell-shocked. The papers, which she hadn’t so far even glanced at, hung from her hands like limp pennants.

  When he stood in front of her, she looked through him rather than at him. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I’d say congratulations are in order.” He lifted her chin, looked into eyes that were confused and unfocused; he knew his own gaze would cause freezer burn. “It appears you’ve just given legal birth, Camryn—to my daughter. Instant motherhood. You might want to remember the feeling, because it sure as hell won’t last.”

  Chapter 10

  Adam didn’t bother calling ahead to let Gina know he was coming, deciding in this case surprise was his best move. He had no doubt she was pissed at him, and the phone made it too easy for her to say no. But him, in her face? No contest.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked, stowing Adam’s case in the trunk.

  Adam gave him the address. The Solari estate was on Lake Washington—within running distance of Camryn and her dorky husband.

  The cabbie shrugged. “That’s aways away. It’ll cost ya.”

  The jerk didn’t wait for an answer, so Adam didn’t offer one. He opened the back door and got in the cab. Settled into the backseat, he slicked his hair back, loosened his jacket, and pulled out his cigarettes.

  “No smokin’,” the cabbie said. “Sorry.”

  He shoved the pack back in his jacket pocket and exhaled his frustration. He should quit, anyway. Save a fortune on breath mints.

  “How long until we get there?” he asked the cab driver.

  “This traffic? Forty—forty-five.”

  Adam resigned himself to staring out the window. The drive would give him time to think about how he was going to handle Gina—and that bitchy mother of hers.

  He rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes, but it wasn’t Gina he thought about; it was Holly.

  Damned if he didn’t miss her—hated the thought of a world without her in it. Even if she had lied to him, deceived him. Hell, he shouldn’t be surprised. Lies and deceit were Holly’s style. His style.

  But this time he’d thought things were different, that Holly was different. Looking back, he should have known. Seen the signs.

  How edgy she’d been when he mentioned guardianship—their getting married. He’d put it down to her not wanting to lock horns with Grantman. She never minded getting under his skin, but she hated face-to-face confrontations with him.

  “Let’s see how things go between us, Adam,” she’d said the first time he’d suggested she get rid of Lambert and marry him.

  For a while they’d gone along fine. Every time Lambert went out of town it was a twenty-four-seven bed fest. He’d done nothing but suck up to her—and on her—for months. He got hard thinking about it, and he knew for sure she enjoyed it as much as he did. When his chest tightened, he looked out the window, tried to focus on the city flashing by the speeding cab.

  He remembered the day it all went wrong. It was right after that shock of a visit from Lando. He’d been scared stupid. Made some bad moves. For one he’d pushed her to set a firm date on dumping Lambert—getting the legal work done. Pushing Holly was always a bad idea.

  They were in bed. She was spread under him like a feast. He was doing what he did best.

  “Hm-m, that feels good,” she murmured.

  He added another finger . . . “And it’s going to get better. Tell me what you want, baby, and it’s yours. “

  “I want it all . . . Everything you can give me.”

  “Then you’ll have to promise me something.”

  She lifted to his hand, rolled her hips. “Anything.”

  “I want you to marry me, Holly. I want you. I want our kid. I want us to be a family. And I want it now. No more delays.”

  She’d lifted her head, her face flushed, and he could feel the heat of her skin against his palms. “You’re a bastard, Adam Dunn.”

  He licked at her—stopped—arched a brow. “You want me to finish what I’ve started?”

  “Tomorrow, baby. I’ll do it tomorrow. “

  “Tomorrow you leave for Boston.” He kissed her flat belly, stilled his hand, and lifted his head to meet her eyes.

  “Then I’ll do it there.” She’d gasped. “Just . . . finish me. Please …”

  He didn’t remember saying anything after that. What he remembered was slamming into her so deep, he’d rooted there.

  The next day she’d left for Boston. Three days after that he’d followed.

  The cab pulled to a stop outside a gated driveway. “You want I should buzz us in?” the cabbie asked.

  “No. This is good enough.” Adam fumbled for his wallet, handed the driver his credit card, and said a short prayer it would take one more hit. It did, and two seconds later the cab drove off, and he was standing like a Little Orphan Annie outside the dilapidated Solari mansion.

  He craned his head and looked through the rusted wrought-iron gate at the sprawling three-story house. What a mess. Peeling paint. Roof tiles missing. One of the windows in the top floor broken and boarded up. A lawn high enough to hide a pride of hunting lions, and a tangle of shrubs that hadn’t seen a shave and haircut for years.

  Across the lake the sun was sinking below the horizon, casting the West-side grounds of the house into heavy shadow. A set of sorry-looking lawn furniture sat on a patio covered in leaves.

  All of it was far worse than he remembered.

  He lit his long-overdue cigarette
, took a couple of deep drags, and stared at the gate phone. Hell, he’d be lucky if the damn thing even worked. He hesitated, rolled his banged-up head to loosen the tension in his shoulders.

  This Gina thing wouldn’t be easy. He had to play it right.

  Dropping the cigarette on the driveway in front of the gate, he stubbed it out. Do it, Dunn. Just damn well do it.

  He pushed the button.

  “Yes?”

  He sucked up some air. “Gina, it’s Adam.”

  Silence. Total and absolute. But the line was open. She hadn’t clicked off. His breath lightened. “I’ve missed you.”

  More silence.

  “You still there?”

  “You’re a son of a bitch, Adam Dunn, and I never wanted to see you again.”

  He didn’t miss her use of past tense, and put his mouth closer to the speaker, lowered his voice. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I’ve never meant anything more in my life. You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Her voice rose slightly, unusual for Gina, who didn’t often let that hot Italian ancestry show anywhere other than the bedroom. Not as good as Holly, but . . .

  She went on. “Come to think of it, you’re the worst thing that could happen to any woman who gets within ten feet of you.”

  “You and I got a lot closer than ten feet, baby, and I loved every minute of it.”

  “Something I’ll regret forever. And I am not your baby. Not anymore, Adam. If I ever was.”

  And you’re not clicking off.

  Adam smiled, but didn’t let it show in his voice; it dripped a soft sincerity. “I hurt you. I know that, and I’m sorry, and I’ll go if that’s what you want.” He paused, not above a little emotional muscle-flexing before lobbing his ace. “The thing is, Gina . . . I need you. I never thought I’d say that to any woman, but I’m saying it to you. I’m in trouble, and I really need you.” He paused. “Open the gate, baby . . . please.”