Deadly Secrets

by Ann Christopher

  And he thought about Kerry Randolph, who was the best damn business partner a guy could ever hope to have.

  “Right now, Henry! Right—”

  This called for a toast. Henry looked around and saw the tea. Shifting his weight, he hop-hop-hopped on one foot—

  The Llama shrieked with pain in time with each hop.

  —and hop-hop-hopped back with the teacup.

  “Right now, Henry! Right now!”

  Henry raised his cup.

  “To Kerry Randolph,” he said, and drank deeply.

  48

  “Hey, Jayne,” Sierra said.

  Jayne sighed. If she'd thought her mood the last day or so couldn't get any worse, this crack-of-dawn sighting of her law clerk's bright smile and the sound of her chirpy voice proved Jayne wrong. Honestly, the woman should just walk around with a handful of helium balloons and a Have a Nice Day T-shirt every day. Then people would have some warning of what they were up against.

  “For God's sake, woman,” Jayne said as the elevator doors slid all the way open and Sierra stepped back enough to let Jayne get off and walk to the doors of the U.S. attorney's suite of offices. “Please. I'm begging you. Give me one minute to get settled every morning before you get in my face. Nothing is this urgent. At the rate you're going, you’ll appear by the side of my bed tomorrow when my alarm goes off.”

  This admonition did nothing to dim Sierra's energy level, probably because she was the human equivalent of a golden retriever. “What's that? Looks disgusting,” she said, pointing to Jayne's drink. “I hope it's got negative points.”

  “Kale smoothie.” Jayne decided not to mention that she'd parlayed her anxiety-induced lack of appetite into a new discipline where her diet was concerned, or that she'd walked on the treadmill for an hour this morning in an attempt to dissipate some of her stress-related agitation. “What's up?”

  “Brady's here to see you. And he brought some other DEA agent and his wife. I can't believe how hot these DEA guys are. It's unbelievable.”

  “Not your true love, Garciaparra?”

  Sierra scowled and flamed. “He's not my true love. And he acted like he wanted you for his true love.”

  “That's not happening, so the field is yours.”

  “Whatever,” Sierra muttered. “By the way, it's unprofessional for you to mention my personal life in the workplace.”

  “Oh, lighten up.”

  “So I'm free to ask why you've been so crabby?”

  Jayne stopped dead and glared into Sierra's sweet and deceptively innocent face. That was the thing about golden retrievers, wasn't it? They still had teeth.

  “Point taken,” Jayne said.

  Jayne lapsed into silence as they went into the office, the weight of all her stark fear and unhappiness threatening to flatten her into a smudge on the floor. The forty-eight hours she'd promised Kerry had nearly run out, and she'd heard nothing from him. Whether he was still alive or not was anyone's guess, as was what she planned to do when zero hour arrived.

  She'd threatened him, and she'd meant what she said when she said it.

  Now? Paralysis and growing anxiety had her in a stranglehold.

  Where the hell was Kerry? Was he doing something illegal? If so, how illegal?

  Was he scared?

  Hurt?

  Would she ever see him again?

  Hell, for all she knew, he could be dead and at the bottom of the Ohio River this very moment, and she'd never know a damn thing about it.

  And to think she'd threatened to turn him in. What a joke she was. If push came to shove, she felt fairly certain that he could shoot someone in front of her and she wouldn't bat an eye as long as he emerged unscathed.

  Which made her her mother's daughter through and through, didn't it?

  “You okay, Jayne?” Sierra asked quietly, her big baby browns limpid and concerned.

  Which was Jayne's cue to snap out of it, put her big-girl panties on and be a professional. “Absolutely. What'd Brady want? We don't have an appointment.”

  “He didn't say.”

  “Guess I'll find out soon enough,” Jayne said as they turned the corner into the reception area, where three people sat on the sofas. “Oh, and don't let me forget to file the— Oh my God! Jackson Parker, is that you?”

  Sure enough.

  One of the men stood, grinned and stepped forward to hug Jayne. As the man whose undercover work had laid the groundwork for the government's money-laundering case against Kareem, DEA Special Agent Jackson Parker had been Jayne's star witness at Kareem's retrial several months ago. For his bravery in the line of duty, Jack had paid a very steep price. Kareem had murdered his mother, then forced Jack into a life in hiding that had culminated in Jack's “death” and subsequent relocation to Panama City in order to escape Kareem's wrath. Now that Kareem was officially dead (re-dead?), Jack was back. And free.

  “Hope you don't mind the surprise. We just wanted to check in while we were downtown getting some paperwork squared away,” he said when they pulled apart. “Miss me?”

  “Absolutely. So you've been recalled to life, eh?” Jayne asked. “How does it feel?”

  “Fantastic.”

  “How was Panama City?”

  “It was great.” Jack reached back, took the hand of the second person on the sofa, a beautiful woman, and tugged her forward. “This is my wife, Amara Clarke. She's also an attorney. I'd say you two should get along great, but Amara's on the defense side of things, so I'm not holding my breath.”

  Jayne heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled and shook Amara's hand. “You defend criminals, do you?”

  “Alleged criminals,” Amara said. They all laughed. “I'm opening up a practice here, so I'm sure I'll see you around. Jack and I are getting settled. Trying to find a house. You know the drill.”

  “I do know the drill. Are you planning on going back to work for Brady, Jack?” Jayne asked, tipping her head at Brady, who stood.

  Amara made a growling noise.

  Jack shot her a sidelong grin. “I don't think so,” he told Jayne. “Amara was one of the people who thought I was dead. Let's just say she’s got a low danger tolerance.”

  “Very low,” Amara muttered.

  “So I'm trying to get into law school at the university,” Jack added.

  “I'm a second year,” Sierra said, extending her hand. “Sierra Davis. Let me know if you have any questions or if there's anything I can do.”

  “Appreciate that,” Jack said. “My wife, Amara.”

  Amara and Sierra shook.

  “What part of town are you looking at?” Sierra asked them.

  Brady, who'd been watching Jayne with the kind of narrow-eyed attention that did nothing for her frayed nerves (what the hell was she going to tell him if he asked her anything about Kerry right now?), edged closer. “Got a minute?”

  “Ah…” Thinking fast, she made a show of checking her watch. “Not really. I've got court, and I—”

  “This won't take long,” he said firmly.

  Dread edged fear aside as her number one emotion as she led him into the nearest conference room and shut the door. Maybe the best defense was a good offense.

  “Look, Brady, if you're here to give me more shit about Kerry—”

  “Shit?” Brady pulled a blank face. “Why would I give you shit? I think the man deserves a knighthood.”

  Surprise almost knocked Jayne on her butt. “Excuse me?”

  “This is strictly confidential, but Randolph did some detective work. Went to visit Kareem's mama and uncovered a flash drive with some valuable information on it. Including the whereabouts of some warehouse Kareem kept with all his collectibles in it.”

  Jayne's jaw dropped. “Collectibles?”

  Brady nodded. “We seized it all last night. NBA memorabilia, loose diamonds, first-edition books. You name it. It was quite the pirate's treasure. Appraisers are looking at it now, but the rough estimate is around two and a half mil.”

  Jayne flou
ndered, doing her best to boot up her dry mouth. “And this was…Kareem’s stuff?”

  “Yep.” Brady's level gaze was a bit more pointed than usual. “Kareem’s stuff.”

  Jayne blinked. Rubbed her temple in a vain attempt to keep the room from spinning. Tried not to laugh with sudden relief.

  “That's not even the half of it,” Brady continued. “The real news is, your boy's detective work turned up a video Kareem left in his mama's possession. The video, in turn, led us to the Miami guy.”

  “What? But he's always been off the radar. No one knows who—”

  “Kareem knew. He left the video as an insurance policy. Now we know who's on top of the Miami organization.”

  “Oh my God.” Jayne pressed a hand to her heart, which started galloping straight toward cardiac arrest at this news. That must be who was after Kerry the other night. The reason he was so scared and so determined not to tell her anything. “This is like some twisted TV show. It's like Game of Kingpins. Are you telling me that now some guy out of Miami wants Kerry dead?”

  “Nope,” Brady said on a laugh. “The Miami DEA raided his house last night. They were going to take him in. Only—wouldn’t you know? He was dead.”

  Another dizzying swoop of relief. “Dead?”

  Brady shrugged. “This is all breaking info, so I'm not sure what the whole story is, but word is that he'd been bitten by his own damn pet. He had a fetish for poisonous snakes.”

  Jayne gaped at him, every word in her vocabulary inaccessible to her in that moment.

  Brady grinned, evidently finding great amusement in her stupefaction. “The Miami organization is a mess, Jayne. And your boy has more lives than a herd of cats. But it looks like he's free and clear.” He paused, giving her another pointed look. “If you ask me? He's as big a hero as Jackson Parker is. Maybe bigger. Because Randolph's not DEA. He got himself out of his mess pretty much all on his own. With only his wits to save him.”

  49

  It was after eight by the time Jayne got home from her grocery run after work, and her hands were full of her keys, plastic bags, briefcase and purse, so it took her a minute to notice Kerry sitting on her porch swing.

  She froze when she saw him, the breath disappearing from her lungs as she noted his tight jaw and the shadowy hollows beneath his eyes.

  He stared at her, unblinking.

  She had no words. Her heart was wedged too tightly in her throat.

  After several endless beats, he stood and hurried over to relieve her of her bags. “Hey. I'll take those.”

  Kerry was alive.

  Brady had told her so this morning, of course, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things.

  Alive.

  Her relief and gratitude were so overwhelming that for one blinded second she started to hand the bags over. Started to smile and allow herself to breathe again for the first time in days.

  Until the anger came, fast and hard.

  This man had lied to her. Made a fool of her. Threatened her career and equilibrium, if not her sanity. And she couldn't raise her hand fast enough to volunteer for another round.

  She snatched the bags back at the last second, scowling. “I've got it.”

  He kept his gaze lowered, as though he knew better than to make eye contact with a rabid animal. “I can do this for you,” he said quietly.

  “I don't want anything from you.”

  “That's funny, because I want to give you everything.”

  At that, their gazes connected. Jayne recoiled. Plugging into his flashing eyes was like trying to grip a lightning bolt, and she felt a hot jolt of his anguish.

  Not to mention his determination.

  “Please,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Let me do this for you.”

  Jayne let go and backed off, not because she'd changed her mind but because she suddenly realized she had a much bigger problem.

  Tears were welling in her eyes and tightening her throat.

  After a fumbling attempt to unlock the door, she swiped a couple of them back, steadied her hands and got the door open. They went inside. She hurried through to the kitchen, put her purse and briefcase down and rounded on him.

  He set the grocery bags on the table and watched her warily, waiting for her next move.

  “Thanks.” She cleared her gruff throat. “Bye.”

  “We need to talk.”

  Her chin wobbled. Furious, she pressed her lips together. She would not fall apart.

  “I don't want to talk,” she said.

  Don't fall apart, Jayne. Do not—

  “Then you can listen.”

  Listen? Listen?

  So much for not falling apart.

  “I don't want to listen!” The ringing shout in the silence wasn't loud or violent enough for her, so she slammed her hands on the table, knocking over the pepper shaker. “I don't want to listen to any more lies from you. I don't want your help with the groceries—”

  “I'm sorry, Jayne.”

  “—and I don't want to hear your voice and I don't want to see your face. So leave!”

  “I'm sorry, Jayne,” he said, and the SOB had the nerve to swipe his eyes with the heel of his hand. And these were no showy crocodile tears, either, but the kind of glittering heartbreak that so perfectly reflected what she felt. “I'm sorry I lied to you, but I can't go.”

  “Leave!”

  He shook his head. “Lying to you was the stupidest thing I've ever done. But I was scared and I wanted to keep something of value in case I needed the leverage. I just couldn't give it all away.”

  “It was blood money.”

  “It was the only protection I had. And I needed it when Miami came knocking on my door.”

  Unchecked tears streamed down her face because she'd given up all pretense of being composed and aloof. But then she thought of all the times she'd seen her mother cry over her father, and anger surged anew.

  “You know what, Randolph? All's well that ends well. You wanted leverage, you used your leverage and you got yourself out of a tight spot. Good for you. Brady says he wishes he could give you a medal. That's pretty high praise, isn't it? So go be free, little bird. Live your life. Godspeed. Now, please. Leave.”

  He looked incredulous. “Don't you get it? I did the right thing. I got myself out of this mess. I got rid of all my property. I ID’d the Miami kingpin, and now he's dead. There's nothing in our way anymore, Jayne.”

  Rage made Jayne tremble because she was not—could not be—hearing this.

  “Your lies are in our way. Your secrets are in our way. You’re the one who doesn't get it. How am I supposed to trust you now?”

  “I don't know, but you have to forgive me.”

  “I don't have to do anything.”

  “You're the reason I'm not dead, Jayne. You saved my life when you found me on my cousin's floor, and you're the reason I'm living now instead of just alive. It's all for you. Everything good I've done—” He broke off and rubbed his nape, his voice choked. “I did it for me, yeah. So I could look myself in the mirror. But you're my sun. Don't ask me to live without my sun.”

  It was impossible to see the anguish on his face and not believe him. Impossible to stop her tears. Impossible to stop her heart from melting.

  That didn't mean she had to make it easy. “Why should I trust you? How can I believe in you after you lied to me?”

  One second he was across the room.

  The next, he was in her face, resting his forehead against hers as he gathered her in his arms and resisted her halfhearted attempts to push him away as she cried.

  But his body was so warm and strong, so unreasonably vibrant after she'd spent so much time fearing the worst, and her resistance to him had only ever been feeble at best.

  “How can I believe you? How can I—”

  “Because.” He shuddered, cords working in his throat as he tried to hold it together. “If I had to choose between spending another night bleeding out on the floor or spending thir
ty seconds with you looking at me like you hate me? I'm going to bleed out every time.”

  “Don't say that,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “The thought of something happening to you kills me. You have to stop talking like that.”

  “You have to forgive me, Jayne.” His voice broke as his face crumpled. “Please.”

  “Shhh.” She let her eyes roll closed and tipped her chin up until it was just a whisper away from his mouth as she melted into him. “It's okay.”

  “You have to…”

  Ducking his head, he murmured the rest of his sentence against her lips until the words disappeared and only his insistent kisses remained.

  The first kiss was so strangled with emotion that it was a shock to her entire body.

  But then the sensation of coming home washed over her—the feeling of blessed relief that she finally had the one thing in life she needed to survive—and her brain emptied out of everything but this.

  Him.

  Now.

  “Kerry.”

  He groaned and dove into the kiss, angling her head so their tongues could slip as deep inside each other's mouths as possible. They nipped and sucked, exploring all the ways they could fit together until her lips felt swollen and tingly and the rest of the world fell away.

  All the while, his unerring hands worked on the skirt of her suit, bunching it up over her ass until he could reach beneath and strip her of her panties. She was right there with him, wriggling her hips, kicking her heels off and shimmying the black lace down her legs and off.

  Then she broke off the kiss and pulled back enough to stare him in the eye as she went to work on his belt.

  There was no time for niceties or finesse as he backed her up to the sofa and tumbled down with her. No room for anything but this.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and cocked her hips.

  He levered up on one elbow and used the other hand to thrust inside her with one powerful surge.

  They both cried out. He leaned his head back, his face twisting with pleasure.

  Then he opened his eyes and stared her in the face as he began to move.

  He owned her as he fucked her. Greedily absorbed all her mewls into his mouth. Set a hard, unrelenting pace. Hooked an arm beneath her knee to open her wider.