by Debra Webb
It just wasn’t fair. She couldn’t change people’s attitudes. She’d learned that eight years ago when Desmond had come after her the first time. He had the world charmed, mainly because of his father’s longstanding reputation. Desmond used the memory of his father to his advantage. He had it all—money, power and respect. She was insignificant; her feelings carried no weight.
“He tried to kill me.”
Devers looked surprised but then, she’d known he would. She had chosen that announcement for its shock value.
“He hurt you physically?”
She had fully expected the skepticism she saw in those blue eyes, damn him, but what she hadn’t anticipated was the other thing just beneath. Disapproval or something on that order. The question was, did he disapprove of her charges against Desmond or her period?
“Yes. Not in the usual fashion,” she hastened to add. “It was more subtle, at least until the bitter end.”
The skepticism nudged out the other emotion she’d noted in his eyes. “In what way?”
Why bother? He wasn’t going to believe anything she said anyway.
But she had to try, had to keep him distracted. Ultimately she knew she would end up in Chicago facing Desmond, but she needed to put that off as long as possible.
“At first it was indifference. He was gone most of the time during the second half of my pregnancy. I had no one but his minions for support of any kind. I found out later that he indulged himself by having numerous affairs during that time.”
Devers finished off his coffee, set the mug aside and managed an expression devoid of emotion. “Were you able to confirm the affairs?”
“I saw the videotapes.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been so smug about that answer. She’d set herself up for the question she knew would follow.
“You hired a private detective to follow him? Is that how you got videos of his indiscretions?”
The disapproval was back. Whatever else he thought she couldn’t read, but his distaste for her story was abundantly clear. The idea that he perhaps considered her somehow unsavory because of something Desmond had done made her all the more furious.
“No.” She squeezed her lids closed for a moment or two to regain her composure. She’d snapped, hadn’t meant to. This was a sore subject for her. “Taping his sexual encounters is—or at least was—a hobby of Desmond’s.” Her lips tightened again at the thought. “He didn’t like it when I discovered his little sideline.”
“You’re certain he would have hurt you physically had you stayed?”
Ashley sipped her coffee, working hard to keep her frustration at a manageable level. “No, he wouldn’t have hurt me. He would have killed me.”
“Just because you discovered his failure to remain monogamous?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Incensed that he could analyze the situation with such unemotional logic, she shoved back her chair and stood. “Maybe it doesn’t bother you when your significant other cheats on you, but I had a problem with it.”
He stood, picked up his plate and mug. “So you got jealous and angry and you left.”
Ashley drew in a deep, determined breath. Stay calm. Don’t screw this up. “I left because I was afraid for my safety and my child’s.”
She turned, her movements mechanical, and walked to the sink. She rinsed her plate and tucked it into the dishwasher. Devers rinsed his plate and passed it to her. He refilled his mug and gestured to hers with the carafe. “More coffee?”
“No, thank you.” She marched back to the table and sat down. A quick glance at the clock told her it was 1:45 a.m. This was going to be a long night.
“What made you fear for you son’s safety?” he asked when he resumed his seat directly across from her.
She lifted her shoulders in a pointed shrug. “I don’t know maybe it was the way he put a pillow over a helpless three-month-old in his bassinet to muffle his crying.”
Now that got his attention. “You’re sure it wasn’t an accident?”
Ashley shook her head. This guy was incredible. “The bassinet was all the way across the master bedroom from our bed. Have you seen his house? It was a very large room. The pillow didn’t just walk over there and lay itself on top of my baby.”
The grim expression that claimed his face then gave her some sense of satisfaction.
“Had he been drinking? Drugs, maybe?”
She made a sound of disbelief. What was wrong with this guy? Was he dense? “You should get to know your client better, Mr. Devers. Desmond doesn’t do any sort of drugs, he gets his highs in other ways.” A chill went through her as memories bombarded her. All those women he’d sexually abused. He was sick, that was what he was. Sick and demented.
“You have to understand, Miss Orrick,” he explained calmly, “I can only base my perceptions on Mr. Van Valkenberg’s current reputation. The fact is, his past reputation is unblemished, as well. He’s a pillar of the community, so to speak. It’s difficult to balance that image with the one you’re outlining for me here.”
She couldn’t do this. “You know.” She stood. “Think what you will.” She shoved her chair under the table and stormed to her bedroom. It was two in the morning. She needed sleep and distance.
When daylight came, she’d just have to figure out some other way to distract the guy. She’d had enough for tonight.
Part of her would love to just get this over with. Get into that rented sedan of his and drive straight back to Chicago to face the monster she’d been running from all this time. It would feel so good to show him that he couldn’t win.
But she couldn’t do that. She had to wait. She had to be sure that enough time had passed to facilitate her mother’s part in this desperate plan. If Desmond discovered that she couldn’t tell him where their son was, he would move heaven and earth to find her mother and Jamie. To prevent any possibility of his success, Ashley had to ensure that her mother and son were well out of reach.
Forty-four more hours. Not a minute less.
KEITH WINCED at the sound of Ashley Orrick’s bedroom door slamming hard against the frame.
He hadn’t expected her to get so upset. His questions had seemed logical to him. He hadn’t been refuting her claims; rather he’d requested further clarification. Surely she realized that he needed to understand the situation fully in order to come to any conclusions.
And then what?
He stowed his empty coffee mug in the dishwasher. His assignment had nothing to do with Van Valkenberg’s domestic troubles, real or imagined.
Still, the idea that the guy was some sort of pervert gave him second thoughts. It didn’t seem right to usher a child into a situation like that.
Then again, he was only getting one side of the story. Van Valkenberg wasn’t here to defend himself.
Yet, why would Ashley bother lying?
He walked slowly toward the door that separated them. What did she have to gain by making up all these stories? It didn’t make sense.
Rich guys like Van Valkenberg had to worry about parasites draining them of money. The man’s representative had put Ashley Orrick squarely in that category.
If that was the case, why didn’t she just go for the money? It wasn’t as if Van Valkenberg wanted to take her child from her; he simply wanted visitation rights. It was all outlined in the legal documents Keith had given her mother.
He rapped on the door. “You’ll need to leave this open.” He braced for her fury.
The door swung inward. “Why don’t you just sleep in here with me and then you won’t have to worry.”
He knew she was madder than hell and hadn’t meant her remark to come out the way it sounded. But saying it out loud put the idea in his head and, frankly, he had a damned difficult time evicting the thought.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Orrick, but I would prefer that you keep the door open.”
She ran her fingers through all that rich auburn hair. The movement drew her blouse up higher on her midriff and he cou
ldn’t help but notice.
“Look,” she said, drawing his gaze back to her face which wasn’t much help in getting his mind back on business, “we’re both exhausted. Your head has to still ache. Why don’t we just get some sleep? I’m sure we can discuss all of this with clearer heads tomorrow.”
She was right. Though his head wasn’t exactly hurting, it was sore and felt like a lead weight attached to his shoulders. Thankfully, the nausea and dizziness were history.
“I agree. We’ll get some sleep and we’ll talk on the way back to Chicago. Your story has me thinking it might be necessary to contact my superior and take a second look at the situation.”
Astonishment stole over her and she stood there facing him with those lush lips parted in shock.
“Did you think I wasn’t listening?” he asked. As much as he wanted the location of her son to complete his assignment, he couldn’t be indifferent to her dilemma. Maybe he should, but he couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something there. The woman was terrified of the idea of letting Van Valkenberg get his hands on her son.
“I…” She wet her lips and his mouth went dry. “I guess I’m surprised that you would even care.”
Her words were like a slap in the face. He’d been accused of a lot of things in the past, such as being obsessive about details or being in his own little world, but not once in his life had he been accused of not caring about other people’s problems when they were right in front of him.
She smiled faintly. “I guess you’re the one who’s surprised now.”
He took a big mental step back. He’d overstepped professional bounds here. “We should call it a night.” It was a cop-out, but what the hell. This was a no-win scenario. Anything he said would only drag him deeper into forbidden territory.
She gave him her back and strode toward her bed, pulling her blouse over her head as she went.
He blinked. Stepped back from the door just as her hands lit on the waist of her jeans and started to scoot them off her hips.
After executing a hard right, he put one foot in front of the other until he’d made his way to the couch.
Okay, so she’d made her point. Open bedroom doors were asking for trouble.
He dropped onto the sagging couch, kicked off his loafers and stretched out. She needed a new sofa. This thing was a wreck, from its tattered upholstery to its broken-down springs.
It would do in a pinch, he supposed. He needed sleep for sure. All he had to do was get the picture of her half-naked body out of his mind. The light from the hall had provided precisely enough illumination to make sure he didn’t miss a single curve of all that creamy skin. The way her torso narrowed into that tiny waist made him want to mold his hands along every soft inch.
She’d done that on purpose, to prove her point and to get under his skin. He couldn’t let her do that. She was a desperate woman, determined to keep her child away from his father. She might very well be capable of most anything, driving him crazy with lust included.
To distract him.
He sat straight up.
She didn’t have any plans to sleep. His lips formed a grim line. Not this woman. She thought she had him mollified with her talk of abuse and little striptease act. No way. She had giving him the slip on her mind. He would fall asleep and she’d be out of here.
Absolutely no way was he letting her fool him again.
He got up, surveyed the room and picked out the tattered recliner. The leather was worn almost through in places, but it would do just fine.
With a quick look underneath to make sure it was safe to do so, he pushed the bulky piece of furniture across the hardwood floor of the living room and into the hall right in front of her bedroom.
He plopped into it and reclined. Perfect. Now, if she left that room, she’d have to climb over him. He’d already checked the windows. No way would she be getting one of those open without a toolbox and applying some major elbow grease.
She rose up in her bed; the light from the hall fell softly across her face highlighting her look of annoyance.
“I wasn’t going anywhere.”
He shot her a smile, then relaxed into the shabby leather and closed his eyes. “Well, now we’ll both sleep better, ’cause I’m not going anywhere, either.”
She plopped back down on her pillows, muttered something like jerk.
His lips stretched into another smile. Two could play this game.
She’d have to get up pretty early in the morning to get ahead of him two times in a row.
“I have a question for you, Mr. Devers.”
Keith’s eyes reluctantly opened. He blinked. He really should turn off the overhead light in the hall. Maybe leave the bathroom light on with the door partially closed. Just enough illumination to keep an eye on her.
“Sure. Ask away.”
He let the footrest down and got up to make the change in the lighting.
The light in the hall went out with a flick of a switch. He reached for the one in the bathroom next.
“Have you ever been so afraid of something that you’d be willing to do anything to make sure it didn’t happen?”
He stilled, his fingers on the switch. He didn’t know why he hesitated; he should have flipped the switch upward to put some light on the situation. But her words kept him still, made him hesitate to do anything that might shatter the moment.
“I know you don’t want to believe me,” she said softly, her voice carrying in the darkness, gently caressing his senses. “But I swear to you that everything I’ve told you is the truth.”
His heart pounded in time with the tension rushing through his body.
“If you’ll give me the chance I can prove it.”
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath to clear his head. He had to stop letting her get to him like this.
“I have evidence.”
His eyes snapped open. Still, he didn’t turn on the light.
“All you have to do,” she urged, her voice tugging at him, “is give me twenty-four hours.”
The rustling of sheets sent his tension to a whole new level. The pad of bare feet whispered in the darkness next. He could turn on the light…he could ask her what she was doing.
But he didn’t.
She scooted the recliner out of the way enough to move into position directly in front of him. He could vaguely make out her form in the darkness. A light over the kitchen sink filtered into the living room, preventing the adjoining hall from being pitch-black.
“Can you do that? Give me twenty-four hours?”
Then he made his second mistake since taking this assignment. “All right. Twenty-four hours.” He cursed himself for sounding breathless. She was toying with him here, and he knew it. He just didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it.
“Thanks.”
And then she made her first mistake.
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
He felt her tremble as she drew away.
Keith wasn’t the only one swimming against the tide here. He just hoped like hell he could outswim this foolish temptation.
Chapter Nine
At 8:30 a.m., Ashley grabbed her overnight bag from where she’d stashed it between the bed and the window.
She had to hurry. It was almost time.
Devers had already reported in to his superiors. She’d listened in as best she could. He’d told someone named Victoria that he anticipated new information in twenty-four hours.
She could hear him now checking the back door and anything else he felt needed to be locked or turned off in anticipation of their departure.
Ashley grabbed a pair of hiking boots, a flashlight, a bottle of aspirin, a compass and a couple of bottles of water from her stash in her closet. It took a little rummaging around to find the other item she needed. She tossed the articles into her bag and zipped it up. She bit her lower lip to restrain a smile. Her plan had worked. Now she just needed to make her final move.
Ri
ght…about…now.
Devers’s cell phone rang.
She strolled into the living room with her bag in hand. “You ready?”
He looked puzzled by his call.
Another smile tickled her lips, but Ashley held it back. “I’m going to put this in the car.” She pointed to her bag.
“Yes, I know who you are,” he said to the caller. He held up a hand to Ashley.
She pretended not to see it and headed for the door.
Still talking on his phone he followed her onto the porch, determined to keep her in sight.
Ashley held out her hand for the keys to his rental. He hesitated at first, looked from her to the car parked only a few feet away from where they stood, then dragged the keys from his pocket.
She snagged them from his palm and bounded down the steps to the car’s trunk. She shook off the little shiver that touching his hand had generated.
Stop it, she ordered herself.
That stupid kiss she’d left on his cheek had haunted her all night.
Smooth move, Ash, she mused.
Opening the trunk, she peeked around the rising lid to make sure he wasn’t coming any closer. He’d followed her as far as the bottom of the steps. Apparently he felt safe with watching her from there. She glanced at her own car parked parallel to and on the left of his. She listened intently to make sure he was still a few feet away. As long as he didn’t move this could work.
Holding her breath, she set her bag into the trunk next to Devers’s and reached for the tire wrench lying in plain sight next to the spare tire. She started to shove it into the bag with her stuff but opted to put it in his instead. He’d be less likely to check his own bag. Hurrying as fast as she could, she tucked it beneath his suit and quickly zipped the bag closed. Grabbing the bottle of aspirin and the one other item necessary for this stage of her plan, she zipped her bag again and moved around to the driver’s side of the car.
With a quick look to ensure Devers was still occupied, she yanked the rear door open and rummaged around until she found her cosmetic bag in the overnight satchel she’d left in the car the day before yesterday. She stuffed the two items into the small bag of essentials and hastily closed things up before hefting the overnight bag out of the car.
