by Paula Graves
Maybe he was used to getting what he wanted just by waving a few bills or favors in people’s faces. It had gotten him this far, apparently.
“Carson’s involvement was, I’d like to assure you, entirely inadvertent. I’d like to apologize for my brother’s judgment in employees, for one thing.” Whittier looked at the man sitting beside him. “Morris? Would you like to tell Ms. Miles what you did?”
The man named Morris slanted a furious look at Whittier before he schooled his features—though not without visible effort—into a look of regret. “Mr. Whittier asked me to find a way to discourage you from continuing your investigation into his congressional run,” Morris said in a meek tone that Jim was pretty sure he’d never used before. His accent was pure Brooklyn, and his bulky build suggested he might have been hired more for his muscle than any particular talent.
Lacey nodded toward his bruise. “You drove the Toyota Tacoma that ran us off the road the other day.”
Morris’s only answer was a grudging nod.
“Morris has, of course, been released from my brother’s employ, and we will be happy to pay for any repairs to your vehicle and other costs incurred, with the understanding that our name must never be connected to the payment.”
“There’s no need. I can’t be bought,” Lacey said flatly. “In lieu of the payment, I’d like a truthful answer to one question—who told Mr. Morris to drive a blue Toyota Tacoma to run me off the road?”
Whittier looked honestly puzzled, and for once, Jim was inclined to believe him. He looked at Morris, who turned his gaze to Mickey Grimes.
“I’m afraid that might be my doing,” Grimes said ruefully. “See, I have a friend in the Arlington County police department, and he told me about the video of one of the Whittier limos passing by the crime scene the night of the car bombing.”
“Forgive me,” Whittier interrupted. “I should have said this earlier. I am truly sorry for your loss. I lost a younger brother when I was in my teens, and it was a devastating blow. I can sympathize with your grief.”
“Thank you,” Lacey said, her voice tight with impatience. She turned to look at Grimes. “You were saying about the limousine?”
“My friend in Arlington wondered if I could tell him why one of the Whittiers was in the area that night, and I explained that Mr. Carson had a meeting with some donors nearby that evening. He accepted my answer and told me it was a formality. It seems the police were a little more interested in a blue Toyota Tacoma that was also in the area and was believed to be following you around since the bombing.”
“And you shared this information with Morris?” Jim asked through gritted teeth.
“Well, Mr. Carson, actually, but Morris was there.”
“I thought it would distract you, send you looking in another direction rather than bothering Mr. Carson and Mr. Justin all the time,” Morris growled, looking less and less apologetic by the minute.
“Please accept my apology on behalf of my brother and his former employee,” Whittier said. “You could have been badly hurt by his idiotic stunt, and I’m deeply grateful that you seem to have incurred no lasting damage.”
Lacey was silent a moment, but Jim could feel the vibration of her anger sending tremors through her slim body. She finally spoke, in a voice rattling with rage. “My two-year-old niece was in that vehicle, Mr. Whittier. She could have easily been hurt or even killed. What your brother’s employee did, no doubt with your brother’s approval, could have resulted in first-degree murder. Do you understand that? Do you even care?”
“I assure you, my brother knew nothing of Morris’s plans. Morris will not receive any further payment from anyone in my family, nor will he receive any sort of recommendation for future employment, and if asked, we will certainly inform potential employers of his reckless lack of judgment.”
“What about the attack in Frederick?” Lacey asked.
Jim looked at her, surprised. She was looking at Morris, her gaze narrowed. He held her gaze, anger in his eyes, but he said nothing.
“What attack in Frederick?” Justin Whittier seemed genuinely surprised.
“Your brother’s associate here—”
“Ex-associate,” Whittier corrected.
“Whoever. He’s the man who attacked me in Frederick.”
Jim stared at her, wondering if she was bluffing. But she looked utterly confident in what she was saying.
“You see, he may have been wearing a mask, but when I hit him with the tire iron from my trunk, he let fly a stream of invective that would have made a longshoreman blush. He had a rather distinctive voice. With a Brooklyn accent.”
Whittier shot a black look at Morris before he looked back at Lacey with an expression so bland Jim almost thought he’d imagined the previous anger he’d seen in the man’s face.
“I’m sure you must be mistaken. Is that the only evidence you can supply of Morris’s alleged involvement in an attack on you?”
Lacey’s lips pressed into a thin line that Jim knew meant she was pissed, but she merely nodded.
“Well, you can see the dilemma, then. Despite our conversation here today, there is no evidence that Morris was involved in the attack on you in Frederick, or that he caused your unfortunate accident. My brother and I have no knowledge of the whereabouts or even the existence of the blue Tacoma in question. You can see the difficulty in pursuing legal charges against Morris, since I’m certain that Morris will not be so willing to tell the police what he told you today.”
Morris muttered a profane agreement.
“My hands are tied, legally at least. This is the best reparation I can offer you, and I do so at some risk, considering your career as a journalist. I am hoping that you understand the need for discretion, as you have no evidence to back up anything you might want to share about this situation.”
“She has me as a witness,” Jim said bluntly.
Justin Whittier turned his cool blue gaze to Jim. “Yes. Ms. Miles’s recently employed nanny.” He spoke the last word with a touch of pure disdain, which did nothing to cool the anger rising in Jim’s chest.
“And a decorated Marine Corps sergeant with connections to a lot of people in high places,” he snapped, leveling his gaze with Whittier’s.
For a second, Whittier’s placid facade slipped, revealing a look of alarm and, quick on its heels, anger. But he quickly brought his expression back under control. “What exactly do you propose?”
“Mutual assured destruction. Of a sort.” Jim leaned a little closer to Whittier, using his size and his gritty anger as a weapon of intimidation.
Next to Lacey, Grimes started to move toward the escalating confrontation, but Lacey grabbed his arm, holding him in place. She nodded at Jim to continue.
“We have the information we need about what happened on that snowy road in Virginia. And the added information about what happened in Frederick. If any further threat arises from your family or their employees, we will not hesitate to tell the police everything we know, including your attempt to bribe us into silence.”
“That was not a bribe attempt,” Justin protested.
Jim ignored him. “In exchange for your promise that no harm or trouble will come Ms. Miles’s way from your family and associates, we will not share this information with the authorities.”
“What about Ms. Miles’s investigation into my family’s affairs?”
Jim shrugged. “I am not authorized to make any promises to that end.”
“I am a reporter,” Lacey said flatly. “If you or your family makes news, I am obligated to report it and to do so thoroughly and without prejudice. I will make no promises that would impede me from doing so.”
Justin looked at her through narrowed eyes as if considering her words carefully. Finally, his expression cleared, and he nodded. “Fair enough. It is my hope t
hat Carson has learned his lesson about his choices for employees.” His voice grew steely. “If not, he is on his own.”
“Are we done here?” Jim asked, looking not at Justin Whittier but at Mickey Grimes.
Stone-faced, Grimes nodded. He opened the door of the limousine and stepped out, allowing them to disembark, as well. He gave a polite nod to the driver, who opened the driver’s door and slid in behind the steering wheel. Grimes stepped back into the limousine, gave Jim and Lacey a parting salute, and closed the door just as the limousine pulled away from the curb.
Jim looked down at the luggage at his feet and blew out a long breath. “Well, that was deeply dissatisfying.”
Lacey lifted her bag, swinging the strap over her shoulder. “I don’t know. It answered a lot of questions and kept us from chasing those particular wild geese.” She nodded toward the concourse. “We could exchange our tickets for tomorrow’s train for one this afternoon. Cancel our hotel reservations and be back in Cherry Grove by dinnertime.”
“We could,” he agreed. “Or we could find a nice restaurant here in town, get some lunch and maybe use this baby-free time to revise and rework your suspect list.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes, as if weighing her options with care. Finally, the furrows that creased her brow disappeared, and she smiled. “It might be nice to be able to brainstorm this investigation without having to stop every few minutes to tend to a toddler.” Immediately she looked guilty. “God, that sounded terrible. I adore Katie, you know I do.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, bending toward her. “I do know. But you’re right. It’s nice to have a break from being a parent. And it’s good for Katie, too, to be interacting with people outside her immediate family. So don’t feel guilty. Take advantage of the break to reconnect with who you are outside of Katie.”
She cocked her head. “Did you get that out of some child-rearing self-help book?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
She let out a long sigh and smiled back. “There’s supposed to be an amazing sushi place on Main Street. How do you feel about raw fish?”
“Not quite as adventurous as some of the things I ate in Afghanistan, but I’m game.”
Lacey nodded toward the taxi stand a few yards down the concourse. “Then let’s hail a cab, stash our bags at the hotel and go eat some sushi.”
* * *
THE NEREID LIVED UP to the rave reviews a couple of Lacey’s fellow reporters had given it. The sushi rolls were fresh and delicious, and the miso soup was as close to the homemade miso soup she’d consumed on her last trip to Japan as she’d tasted on this side of the globe.
The company wasn’t bad, either. They’d been shown to a table near the restaurant’s glass front, and the afternoon sunlight slanting through the windows bathed Jim’s face in golden light that seemed to highlight just what an attractive man he was.
Pretending she didn’t find him nearly irresistible was only making things worse for her, she knew. She’d drop her guard and then he’d say something or do something or, hell, just look at her a particular way and she’d be gut punched by just how tempting a man he really was.
But she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t. He’d come into her life on the basis of a lie and hadn’t told her the truth until it was clear he’d been found out. What kind of basis was that for any sort of honest, sustainable relationship?
And in what position was she these days to have any sort of relationship with any man? She was still grieving her sister, still trying to sort out the tatters of her life, trying to figure out how to be a mother to her orphaned niece. What man would want to be part of that upheaval?
Jim, a treacherous voice in her head whispered. Jim would want to be part of that upheaval.
“There’s that little crease,” Jim said, looking at her over a cup of hot tea. The delicate porcelain cup looked ridiculously out of place in his big hand, but he didn’t seem to notice the incongruity.
“What crease?” she asked, trying not to remember how gentle those big, strong hands could be when he touched her.
“The one between your eyebrows. It means you’re worrying about something you can’t figure out.” He sat back in his chair, setting the cup on the table. “So, want to tell Uncle Jim what’s bothering you?”
“Just this mess Katie and I are in,” she lied. It should be what was bothering her instead of what she wanted to do about her ridiculous crush on Jim Mercer.
“Take an hour’s break from all that. You’re in lovely Stamford, Connecticut, with nothing pressing to do until seven tomorrow morning.”
“What are you suggesting? That we take a drive down to Cove Island Park and take a bunch of selfies to send to our families and friends?”
“Interesting that Cove Island Park is where your mind went immediately. Ever been there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Have you?”
“Yes, actually.” His smile softened with the memory. “I was maybe four years into my Marine Corps career, and my little sister Jen was a junior at Yale. At the time, I was assigned to a ship that had docked in the New York Harbor during Fleet Week. Jen had just finished her final exams and was planning to join a friend the next week for a trip to London and Paris, so it was our only chance to see each other. A buddy of mine who had family in the Bronx talked them into letting me borrow a car to drive to Stamford so I could meet Jen halfway. She packed a picnic and we spent the day in Cove Island Park, catching up on each other’s lives.” He sighed, some of the softness in his expression fading into melancholy. “Kids. They don’t call, they don’t write...”
“Where is Jen now?”
“Happily married to a brilliant surgeon at Johns Hopkins. Which she also happens to be. She’s the poster child for success.” His smile of pride was downright incandescent. “She calls every week or two, just to rub it in.”
Lacey laughed. “What about the others?”
“Richard is a graphic designer for an ad agency in Knoxville, Tennessee, where he attended college. Huge Tennessee fan, which is bearable only because his beloved Vols and my beloved Tar Heels are in two different football conferences.” He smiled. “And Hallie just got her master’s in genetics from Princeton and is about to start her doctoral classes at Harvard. Thank God for full scholarships, huh?”
“You come from a family of overachievers, apparently.”
Jim grinned. “I do. They make me look like a total slacker. At least my mom thinks I’m brilliant and perfect.”
Lacey smiled. “Sounds like maybe you are. Your brother and sisters got where they are because of you. You’re the one who stepped in when they needed someone to be their parent, even though you were just a kid yourself. You gave them the love and support they needed to fly.”
Jim laughed. “Don’t build me up too high here. Mom was still there, even if she had to work a lot of long hours. And goodness knows I made a lot of mistakes.”
“Everybody does, right? But you didn’t quit on those kids. You stuck with them until they were ready to make it on their own.” To her surprise, she felt tears prick her eyes. Maybe a few for Jim and the life he’d led, but also a few for herself. For her own upended life and the hard new changes she was learning to make.
Would Katie end up nearly as well as Jim’s brother and sisters had? She hoped so. She hoped she would give Katie the love and support Marianne and Toby would have if they’d lived.
Jim reached across the table and took her hand, twining his fingers with hers. She knew she should pull her hand away, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Let’s rent a car and drive down to Cove Island Park.” His voice was pure, raw seduction.
Now. Now was the time to pull away and say no. It was a crazy idea, for one thing. Despite the bright afternoon sunlight, the day was frigidly cold. And the last thing she neede
d was more alone time with Jim Mercer. She just had to open her mouth and say no. Period. End of story.
But what came out when she opened her mouth was “Let’s do it.”
Jim’s smile in response came complete with dimples and a wicked glint in his eyes that made her stomach clench with nervous anticipation. “You won’t regret it.”
But she knew she probably would.
* * *
THE DAY WAS much colder than the warm day in late May when Jim and his sister Jen had shared a picnic lunch and walked along the shoreline catching up on all the things they’d missed in each other’s lives. But Jim and Lacey had brought warm coats and sturdy walking shoes, so they fared well enough in the waning warmth of the afternoon sun.
Halfway through their walk along the beach, Jim reached for Lacey’s hand, expecting her to pull away from his touch. But she merely curled her fingers around his and edged a little closer, until he could feel her warmth cutting through the brisk wind blowing over the water.
She finally gave his hand a tug and came to a stop, turning to look up at him. He was tall enough to block the sunlight making her squint, but enough of the light bathed her face to give her the golden glow of a sea goddess rising from the depths.
That, he thought, was an embarrassingly romantic notion. But he couldn’t quite regret it, or the way her hand in his made him feel happy and at peace, despite the turmoil of life around them.
“We need to head back if we’re going to get any brainstorming done.” Was that a hint of disappointment he heard in her voice?
“I know.”
“I’m glad we came here, though.” She lifted her face to the breeze, let it blow her hair behind her in glittering golden strands. “It feels sort of magical, you know?”
“I know.” He couldn’t stop himself from lifting one hand to her cheek, pressing his palm to her cool flesh, letting her hair twist around his fingertips.
“Like anything could happen.” She had moved closer, her body scant inches from his. Her gaze wandered away from his to settle on his mouth. “Anything at all.”
