“Victoria… Vic,” he amended. “Something’s obviously wrong. Let me help?”
“You can’t,” she said without turning to look at him. She shrugged gently, and his hand dropped from her shoulder.
She’d never had any illusions about Ryan. He wasn’t persistent because he felt anything special for her; he wanted to be a part of the Archard family, a part of the Archard fortune.
“It’s painfully obvious that you don’t care for me the way I care for you,” he said gently, “but maybe I can be your friend. You look like you could use a friend, Vic.”
She turned. Since Ryan stood on the step below her, they were nose to nose, eye to eye. “Fine. If you want to be my friend, you’ll keep my father away from me for the rest of the evening. I’m tired, I’m worried, and I don’t have the heart to do battle with him tonight.”
“I understand,” he said softly. “I don’t suppose you can tell me why you’re so worried?”
She shook her head and turned to climb the stairs, to hide in the room where she’d lived the first eighteen years of her life. It hadn’t changed since she’d had it remodeled at the age of fifteen. Dark antique furniture, pale yellow spread and curtains, a few collectible dolls arranged artfully on a shelf on the south wall, her first decent painting—yellow roses in a white vase—framed and hanging on the north wall. In the years since she’d left here, her father had changed nothing. It was just another room in a house much too big for one man. Sentiment certainly didn’t keep him from redecorating the room.
When she was in the bedroom with the door closed and locked behind her, she went not to the bed but to the closet. Her things, remembrances from childhood, were stored in boxes stacked high on the top shelf. She reached for the white box, moving two other boxes aside to reach it. After all these years, she still remembered exactly where it was.
She sat cross-legged on the bed and opened the box. On top there were a couple of certificates she’d won for her artwork, but they were here strictly as camouflage. Beneath the certificates were her memories of Del, all neatly stored. There were a couple of notes, sweet notes that had been passed in school. A Polaroid of the two of them, taken at a church dance. God, they looked so young and so ignorantly happy. She set the photo aside and picked up a blue golf ball, long ago taken from a miniature golf course. Their first real date. A pressed flower, another photo—just Del, this time—and at the bottom of the box another sheet of paper, folded in half.
She unfolded the crisp paper and looked down at Del’s face. Why did this sketch she’d done herself feel more real to her than the fading photographs? Because it had been done with love, all her love, more love than she’d known she possessed. This was her Del, young and strong, beautiful as only someone caught between youth and adulthood can be. When she’d drawn this they’d both thought they had their whole lives ahead of them, and they’d been so sure they would spend that life together. They’d had less than one month, twenty-nine days, and she hadn’t felt so alive since.
If they got through this, she was going to start over. She would be brave this time, risk anything and everything to have what she wanted most of all. The woman she had become always played it safe. She didn’t risk her heart, her life, she took no risks at all. The woman she wished she’d become could be fearless. She could tell Del she loved him and bring the two people she loved most together. Del and Noelle. They were hers. They were each other’s, too.
“I love you,” she whispered to the sketch in her hands. “Bring our daughter home.” She touched the smudged pencil marks that formed his long, straight hair. “Come home safe.”
He still wasn’t sure exactly what Holly wanted, besides seeing Bob dead. Maybe she didn’t know what she wanted, either. She was feverish, frantic, and the way she waved that gun around, anything was possible.
Del lowered his weapon. He didn’t want bullets flying in here, not with Noelle and Louise bound and helpless on either end of the room. “I tell you what. You let them go, and I’ll help you find and dispose of Bob.”
Holly laughed. “I’m not teaming up with a cop.”
Del shrugged. “He killed Tripp, he tried to kill me and Vic, sounds to me like we have a common enemy here. That’s all that matters. What difference does it make what I do when I go to work?”
“You want to arrest him,” Holly said with a sneer. “I want him dead.”
He didn’t like the way she swayed on her feet. “Sit down,” he ordered.
Holly didn’t take kindly to being pushed around. “Kiss my...”
“Sit down before you keel over,” Del snapped. “I don’t know who Bob is, I don’t even have a clue. You’ve seen him. You can help me find him. I don’t need you passing out on me now.” He didn’t need her dying on him, either. She was the only link to this Bob, the man who wanted him and Vic dead, the man who wanted Noelle alive. A chill crawled up his spine. “Just sit.” He holstered his gun, and the guy Holly had hired to help her lowered his until it was pointed at the floor. Finally.
“We’ll get you to a doctor,” Del said. “Someone who can be discreet. Once you’re on the mend, you’ll help me find this bastard.”
Holly didn’t sit, but there was a hint of concession on her pale face. “Why should I believe you?”
“He keeps trying to kill me. What more do you need?” He didn’t add that the knowledge that this Bob wanted Noelle alive gave him the willies, or that he would do anything to protect his family.
“Boyce,” Holly nodded to the young man as she finally took Del’s advice and sat on the sofa. “Take a walk around the house and make sure there are no other cops lurking around out there.”
Boyce obeyed with a curt nod, leaving the parlor, walking through the kitchen, then exiting out the back door.
“I came alone,” Del said as the echo of the back door closing reached them.
“I know.” Holly laid her head back. “But I don’t trust Boyce, not a hundred percent.” She laid watery eyes on him. “I want Bob dead.”
‘‘So do I.”
“Why does he want you and this Victoria dead, and your daughter alive?”
His heart hitched, and he glanced at a frightened Noelle. “I don’t know.”
“Is she, like, rich or something?”
Del’s heart dropped to his knees, and a possibility he had never even considered came together. He had never suspected... He couldn’t voice his suppositions here, in front of Noelle. What if he was wrong?
If Vic was dead and there was no way Del could come back and claim his daughter, Noelle would be sole heir to Will Archard’s fortune. And wouldn’t it be convenient for the asshole to step back into her life and take over?
Holly had called Vic Victoria. Very few people called her by her full name. Her father. Her ex.
The back door opened and closed, and footsteps clipped across the kitchen floor.
“All clear?” Holly asked, raising her voice just slightly.
Silence.
“Boyce!” Holly rose carefully to her feet.
The footsteps came closer. Boyce was wearing tennis shoes, but the footsteps that sounded in the hallway were hard, as the soles of a boot or a heavy shoe clipped across the floor.
Del gripped the handle of his Glock and raised it smoothly. His mouth went dry; the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Holly lifted her own gun and aimed at Noelle.
“No,” Del muttered.
“He’s not getting her,” Holly said. “She’s what he wants, and I’m going to take her away from him the way he took Tripp from me.”
“Don’t make me shoot you,” Del said softly as he took aim. His heart climbed into his throat. If he shot Holly now and she instinctively pulled the trigger, Noelle would be hit. And even if her aim wavered, he didn’t have a clean shot that didn’t put Noelle in the line of fire.
“I’m already dead,” Holly mumbled.
She raised her weapon another inch, just as Shock appeared in the doorway, his own
weapon drawn. “Drop it!”
It was not the voice Holly expected to hear. She spun around and when she did, Del fired.
Chapter 13
Del drew his knife, dropped down beside Noelle and began to cut away the duct tape. Shock had placed a quick call on his cell phone and was kneeling beside Holly, assessing the damage.
“Is she dead?” Del asked softly.
“Not yet,” Shock said as the front door opened and half a dozen deputies stormed in. Sheriff Warren Timberlake went immediately to Louise and began to cut her loose, a string of softly spoken profanity-laced words accompanying each slice of his knife.
Noelle murmured behind the duct tape covering her mouth, and Del stopped cutting to carefully remove it. There were tears and fire in her eyes. “You… you goon. This is all your fault”
“I know,” he said softly.
Her lower lip trembled, but she stilled the telling sign quickly. “I hope you’re happy. You’ve ruined my life.”
The accusation cut to the core, even though he realized that Noelle was only lashing out at the closest, easiest target for her anger. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said.
Noelle looked as if she were searching for something suitably caustic to say. Her nose twitched, the fire in her eyes flared to life again. But before she could lash out again, the fire eased. “You cut your hair,” she said, instead of calling him a thug or a goon and suggesting something anatomically impossible.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you said I looked like a reject from the seventies,” he admitted, grumbling as he cut the last of the bonds at her legs.
“That’s not why,” she said, her voice low and angry. “I’m quite certain you don’t give a damn about what I think.”
“Maybe I do.” He still had so much to say. Noelle had found out he was her father in the worst possible way. How could that be fixed? Could it ever? Now was not the time or place. “Stay right here,” he said as he cut the last of the duct tape away and glanced at his mother. She was busy explaining to a very concerned sheriff how Noelle had turned off the security system so she could go out and see the horses, and how the kid had turned off the telephone number blocking system to call a boyfriend who had caller ID that rejected call blocking.
So that’s how they’d found Noelle. A phone call, a number traced, and they were here.
When the sheriff cast a cutting glance to Noelle and began to speak sharply, Louise reached out, took the lawman’s chin in her hand, and said, “Stop that, Warren. If you have something to say, you can say it to me.”
Warren? His mother had some explaining to do. Again.
Del turned to Shock. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped as the paramedics moved in and began to stabilize Holly. “You’re supposed to be watching Vic!”
“I know,” he grumbled. “She came up with another plan and sent me after you.”
Del cursed, low, but not low enough.
“Delaney Wilder,” his mother said sharply. “Watch your language.”
He glanced at her just long enough to decide that she and the sheriff looked much too chummy.
He turned back to Shock. “What kind of plan? The kind of plan where you do exactly what I told you not to do?”
“She’s at her dad’s house. Detail out front. Security system on.” Del glanced at Noelle, who no doubt now knew of her mistakes. Mistakes that could have gotten her killed. They needed to have a nice long talk about that. At the moment, a shaking Noelle was telling a paramedic to get lost, in her own charming way.
Her dad’s house. Preston Lowell and Will Archard were golf buddies. Preston still worked for his father-in-law. He could walk right in, and no one would think twice.
“Give me your phone,” Del snapped, offering his palm to Shock, who handed the cell phone over without question. “Noelle, what’s your grandfather’s phone number?”
“I don’t know, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You don’t know your grandfather’s phone number?” He was certain for a moment that she was just being difficult.
“I don’t call him, you moron! Ever! He hates me, and at least now I know why!” Her shouting silenced the room for a few uncomfortable minutes.
Shock quietly rattled off a phone number, and then added, “I told Vic I’d call, but I’m pretty sure she’d rather hear from you.”
Del dialed the number, and as it rang he laid his eyes on Noelle. He had no idea what to do next. He’d finally decided that it wasn’t safe or right to tell her he was her father, and then she finds out this way, trussed to a chair with a gun to her head, the news delivered as if it were a big joke.
Deep inside he was glad she knew. He only wished she’d heard the news from him and Vic.
“Hello.” Archard’s voice was tight, as usual.
“Put Vic on the phone.”
Archard’s response was cool and sharp.
“I doubt very much that she’s resting,” Del said, his own voice as calm as he could manage. “If you don’t put her on the phone now, I’m going to come to your house and kick your scrawny butt all the way to Nashville. Any questions?”
A moment later Vic was on the line, her voice breathlessly short.
“We’re all fine,” he said, getting the news she wanted and needed out of the way quickly. “I’m bringing Noelle back tonight.” God knows sleep would be impossible, and besides, the long drive would give him and his daughter time to talk things out. “Stay where you are, but Vic...” He turned away so Noelle couldn’t see, stepped away so maybe she wouldn’t hear. “Steer clear of Preston,” he said lowly.
“What?”
“Your ex,” he said. “I have a bad feeling about him.”
“Join the club. Is Noelle there? Can I talk to her?”
“In a minute. I’m serious, Vic. I think Preston is behind this whole thing.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll explain later.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look down into Noelle’s defiant eyes. Without saying a word, she asked for the phone. Palm out, eyes condemning.
“Mom?” she said, a touch of the child in her voice as she spoke to her mother.
She listened for a few seconds, and then she asked sharply, “Why didn’t you tell me about Wilder?” He could tell by looking at her face that she fought back tears.
“I don’t want to talk about this later, I want to talk about it now!” A couple of tears slipped down her cheeks. “Yes, I’m really fine,” she said quietly. “Considering that I spent the afternoon and most of the evening duct-taped to a chair, and some crazy woman pointed a gun at my head more than once, and I found out that some psycho narc who ran out on you years ago is my real father and...” She stopped suddenly, no doubt interrupted by Vic. And then she handed the phone to Del. “I’m finished,” she said harshly.
He told Vic they’d be there in a few hours and ended the call.
Noelle glared at him. “I am not getting in any car with you. I’ll stay here with… with...” She struggled a moment. Had she just now realized that Louise was her grandmother? “Maybe your freak of a partner can drive me back to Huntsville, but I’m not going home, and I’m not going to Grandpa’s house. He can drop me off at Chris’s house.”
“Who’s Chris? A girlfriend?”
Her eyes hardened. “My boyfriend, moron.”
Boyfriend. He was definitely not ready for this.
Noelle kept her eyes on the dark road and her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t going to look at him. Not now, not ever.
All her life, she’d felt like a freak. She wasn’t like her mother, she wasn’t like her… the man she’d thought was her father. She was different, and she’d always known it. She hated being different sometimes.
Now she knew why. She was just like him.
“Noelle, we need to talk,” Wilder said.
“Go ahead,” she said, trying
to sound disinterested. “Talk all you want. I have nothing to say.”
He took a deep breath. They hadn’t even made it to the interstate yet. She’d be trapped in this car for hours!
“I didn’t want you to find out that way.”
“Apparently you didn’t want me to find out at all,” she said. “That’s cool. I don’t like you, either.”
“No, I wanted to tell you, but I just found out about you a few days ago. I didn’t know...”
“So, you’re going to blame this all on Mom. Fine. Right now I don’t like her any more than I like you.”
“I’m not trying to blame anyone. What happened was no one’s fault.”
“So you’re going to tell me that the best explanation you can come up with is tough luck, kiddo. That’s the way the cookie crumbles?”
He sighed, long and exasperated. Good. She wanted him to be exasperated, she wanted him to suffer.
“We can’t go back and undo anything, but I’d like to make up for lost time now. I want to get to know you, do stuff together, maybe...”
“Please,” Noelle interrupted. “Save your breath.”
“I never knew I had a little girl,” he said softly.
“You’re not going to come in here and play daddy all of a sudden,” she said sharply, “and I’m not going to be your little girl. I don’t expect anything from you, I don’t want anything from you.” She already knew what it was like to be pushed aside. She wasn’t really anxious for it to happen again. “Let’s face it, Wilder. You’re going to hang around until you get tired of having wild monkey sex with my mother, and then you’re going to split again.”
“Noelle!”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“It is not.” That sigh, again. “I want to get to know you. I want you to be a part of my life.”
Sounded nice, but she knew better. Besides, she didn’t even like Wilder, right? He was a narc, and he was probably just as unpleasantly surprised to find out about her as she’d been to find out he was her father. No, if he was being nice to her it was because he felt obligated, or because he thought playing Daddy with her would make his Vic happy.
WILDER DAYS Page 15
