by Dawn Brown
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he bit out. “I’m not helping Heddi to get out of paying the money back. I’m doing this to keep a psychopath away from Shayne.” He shouldn’t have said that. He might as well have announced his intentions to Heddi directly. Still, he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. He wanted someone to know his motives were not entirely self-serving. But who was he trying hardest to convince, Kate or himself?
“Why not agree to help Heddi without her writing off the loan if you’re so goddamned noble?” Kate smiled wide, her voice dripping with mockery.
“If Heddi knew I was in this to protect Shayne, she’d use it. I expect you to keep your mouth shut. After all, you owe me.”
“Why? Because I didn’t cover up Julia’s stealing?”
“No, because you didn’t keep a better eye on her in the first place.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Do what you’re supposed to do, and I’ll have no reason to mention to Heddi you have a soft spot for that woman.”
“Good. We’re done now?”
“Yes, yes, I’m going. I’ll be back in a couple of days. You better have something for me.”
After Kate left, he wasted the next forty-five minutes playing Tetris on his computer. As the hour neared six, he stood, grabbed his jacket and started for the door. Heather was shutting down her computer for the night when he strode through the lobby.
“Des,” she called, “I’m sorry about siccing Vivian on you.”
He stopped. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Those things she said… She was wrong.”
Des shook his head. “No, she wasn’t.” He would have slept with Shayne, given the chance, book or no book. God knew he wanted her. Even knowing what he had to do, he still would have loved nothing more than to strip her out of her clothes and wrap himself around her naked body. What a bastard he was. “She actually pegged me pretty damn close to the mark.”
Des walked out into the warm summer evening and found Shayne sitting on the bench outside the office. The same bench he’d been sitting on when they’d met.
With her head turned, she watched three boys about ten years old eating giant freezies and bragging on their skateboarding skills. She didn’t notice Des right away. A faint, bemused smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. The pinkish-gold glow from the sinking sun cast a warm luminance over her skin.
The three boys glided between them on their skateboards and her gaze followed until her eyes locked with his. Something in his chest clenched tightly. His hands itched to pull her up from the bench and against him. He wanted to press his mouth to hers and lose himself in another long, devouring kiss.
Great idea. And when he was done, he could destroy her career.
She smiled at him, and for an instant all the ugly thoughts swirling in his head vanished and his heart lightened.
She’s the one you’re going to betray. Get your lies ready. His stomach plummeted. Still, he drew a deep breath and trotted down the steps.
“Hi, I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, once he reached her. “Not in a weird stalker way, though.”
He flopped down beside her. “Would you think I was strange if I told you I’m disappointed to hear that?”
She chuckled. “Um…a little…yeah. I didn’t go inside, so I wouldn’t cause you trouble with your family.”
If she only knew. “I don’t care what they think. Let’s go get some dinner or something.”
She snorted. “I’m not here to date you. I came to find out if you found me a new rental yet?”
He hadn’t looked. With his falling in line, and Heddi calling off Tic, the urgency to find Shayne another place had dimmed. Still, he had to keep up the pretense, and he didn’t like her being so isolated. Now that he was cooperating with Heddi though, he could probably get her a room at the Pinecone.
“I have some ideas, I have to do a few things first. Why don’t you head back and start packing up. I’ll meet you at your place in about an hour.”
“Okay.” A thin line formed between her eyebrows as they drew into a frown. “Are you okay? You look worn out. Maybe you should take it easy tonight. I can always stay at that motel on the highway.”
The gentle concern etched into her features hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs. Absently, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, the strands soft and cool against his fingertips.
He cleared his throat before he could speak. “I’m fine. I’ll be better once you’re settled somewhere less isolated.”
She tilted her head, and studied his face. “Are you sure?”
He nodded because he couldn’t speak. When was the last time anyone asked if he was okay and gave a shit about the answer? He couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t do it. Not to her. He didn’t know how the hell he’d get out of this mess, but he wouldn’t use Shayne. He wouldn’t lie to her. He’d have to come up with a plan, and fast.
Des was playing a dangerous game.
Did he really believe he could double-cross Heddi and get away with it? Yes. No. Maybe. Hell, he didn’t know, but since he’d made his decision that sick swirling in his gut had finally stopped. All he had to do was stall the old woman long enough for Shayne to get what she needed and get out of Dark Water before Heddi realized what he was doing. And while he was at it, why not part a few seas? Turn water into wine?
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and squinted into the gray gloom as he steered down the deeply-rutted driveway. As dusk slid into night, even with his headlights, the narrow path winding through the thick forest was difficult to navigate. His car bounced over the uneven ground so hard he half expected the rusted panels to shimmy off the frame.
At last, the drive spat him out before a tiny clapboard house. The pale glow from his headlights cast an eerie luminance over the peeling, green shingles and dirty, flaked, white paint on the exterior.
Des slid out of the car, but left the engine running just in case. Besides, what he had to say wouldn’t take long.
What little lawn there might have been had long ago turned to dirt under years of neglect. The trees rose up like a fortress wall, blotting out the emerging stars.
As Des started for the house, the screen door squeaked open then banged shut. Tic stood on the lopsided porch, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder and a malignant grin spreading out over his weathered face.
“Well, fuck me, Anderson. You do have a death wish.”
The man’s blithe call lit a slow, simmering rage deep in his belly. He hated the lunatic and the town’s mix of fear and apathy when it came to dealing with him. No one wanted to poke the bear, afraid of being mauled.
Not that he was entirely unsympathetic, having found himself on the receiving end of the man’s fists more than once. But how long would storeowners turn a blind eye to Tic’s openly stealing off their shelves? How long would people who’d found themselves on his bad side refuse to report property damages or out-and-out assaults?
How long could one maniac bully an entire town?
And what would Heddi have him do once she realized Des had betrayed her? He didn’t care so long as Shayne was well out of the way.
“You lookin’ for a little more of what I gave you the other night?” Tic laughed, apparently delighted by the idea.
“Why not put the rifle down and try?”
Tic’s shit eating grin dimmed a little. “What are you doing here, Anderson?”
Not so quick to act when you don’t have two of your buddies in tow to tip the odds. “I’m here on business.”
“I don’t have business with you.”
“That’s right, and you don’t have business with Heddi either.” He didn’t trust the old woman any more than he trusted the man standing in front of him, and he wanted to be sure Heddi had lived up to her end of the bargain. “You’re off the job. She doesn’t need you to deal with the writer.”
That grin returned, darker, more malev
olent. “What if I don’t want off the job? She’s a sweet piece of ass. A fighter…like Connie.”
At the mention of that waitress, a bizarre mix of fear and rage swirled inside Des like a cyclone. He wanted to fly at Tic, snatch the rifle and bash the butt against the other man’s head until his skull caved in.
But Tic was baiting him, and he wouldn’t bite. The last thing Shayne needed was for Tic to realize she meant anything to him.
“You shouldn’t let your work become personal.”
Tic laughed and rubbed his crotch with his palm. “Can’t help it. I wanted to bend her over and—”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Damn it, so much for not biting.
Tic tilted his head and studied Des. His grin widened. Des had to fix this and fast. “Look, I have my own job to do, and I don’t need you screwing it up. I know Heddi paid you to piss off. That’s what you’re going to do.”
Provided Kate had been right about Hudson coming to see him today.
Tic’s smile vanished, his black eyes boring into Des. “And what if I don’t?”
“I know it was you at her place last night. I know why you were there and what you planned to do. I’ll go to the police and tell them everything.”
“So what? The old woman won’t let me go down.” He grinned. “I know too much.”
Shayne wasn’t the first job he’d done for Heddi. No surprise there. No wonder the police left him alone. “I’m not talking about those yokels in town. Shayne’s a crime writer, Tic. I’m sure she’s friendly with a few cops. I’ll tell them everything I know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Anderson. I was here all night playing poker with my friends, and no one would say different. You oughta know that by now.”
“That may be, but surely you don’t want any outside cops looking too closely at you. Who knows what they’d find.”
Tic seemed to consider what Des had said. The man might be crazy, but he wasn’t stupid.
“I could kill you,” Tic said, but the words carried no real menace. He sounded more like he was thinking out loud.
“Or I could kill you,” Des told him. And in that moment he meant it. He could snatch the man’s life away without thought or guilt if it meant he could protect Shayne.
Tic’s gaze narrowed. “Why do you want the job? What’s in it for you?”
“I’ll be able to get the hell out of here.”
“Good.” Tic nodded, pulled open the screen door and went inside.
Probably the closest Des was going to come to getting the man to agree to back off. He’d bought himself some time, but was it enough?
Chapter Eleven
“A struggling business, an unhappy wife, the pressures of a blended family—for a man capable of familicide, this was the perfect storm.”
—excerpt from Blood and Bone by Shayne Reynolds
A trickle of sweat dripped down the middle of Shayne’s back as she bent and dropped a pile of file folders into the cardboard box at her feet. She straightened and glanced at the closed window hidden behind the drapes. What she wouldn’t give to open the glass and let in the cool night breeze to alleviate the stifling heat inside the cabin.
Not coming out? Maybe I ought to come in.
She tried to shove the memories of last night out of her head, but the voices and images wouldn’t leave her. She shuddered in spite of the warm air, then turned back to the table. Since the sun had vanished behind the trees and the sky had darkened, she’d been nervous and on edge, jumping at the slightest noise. She hated feeling this way.
With a sigh, she reached around and rubbed the back of her damp neck. This was nuts. Why not open a window? If someone wanted to break in, they could. Especially with nothing but a piece of cardboard taped over the hole from last night.
She squared her shoulders, marched across the sitting room and jerked back the curtain. A pale face stared back at her from the glass. Her heart leapt, lodging in her throat and cutting off her breath, then eased almost immediately as slow realization dawned on her.
Not just any face peered back at her, but her own reflection in the glass.
Well done, you’re officially jumping at the sight of your own shadow. She rolled her eyes and yanked the window open with shaking hands.
She needed to find somewhere else to stay. Aside from the possibility of that psychopath returning to do more than hurl threats, she’d wind up giving herself a heart attack if she didn’t get her nerves under control. Besides, she couldn’t have Des sleeping on her sofa every night, no matter how appealing the thought.
You know where you’d rather have him sleeping.
Oh yes, what a great idea that would be. Like her life wasn’t complicated enough.
A gust of cool air whispered through the window, bringing with it the woodsy smells of pine needles and dried leaves. She opened the heavy front door, leaving only the screen door closed, hoping to create a cross breeze.
The pulse of her cell cut through the quiet. She started and pressed her palm to the rapid thud in her chest. With a muttered curse, she grabbed her purse from the floor and dug for her phone. Maybe it was Robert Anderson finally getting back to her. By the time she found her cell in the mess of receipts and ATM slips, she’d missed the call. She looked down at the display.
Travis.
Crap, what did he want? She was already wound tight; dealing with her ex was the last thing she needed. She stared down, waiting for the message symbol to flash. Instead, her cell started to ring again, vibrating in her hand.
Travis’s number appeared on the display. She didn’t want to speak to him. Why couldn’t he just leave a message? “God, Trav, take a hint.”
But he didn’t. The third time he called, she picked up. “Hello.”
“I knew you were there. You and that damned phone are practically fused together.” His voice dripped a combination of triumph and disdain.
“What do you want?” she asked, trying to get to the point.
“Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I thought you were staying at your parents’.”
She gritted her teeth. His high-handed tone never ceased to infuriate her. “I’m out of town working. What. Do. You. Want?”
“The buyer wants to close early. You need to come back tomorrow and sign the revised paperwork.”
“Tomorrow?” She didn’t believe for a minute her signature was really required so soon. No doubt this was just one more situation for which Travis insisted on calling all the shots. She bit back on the urge to tell him to piss off. Telling Travis to stick it might be emotionally satisfying, but she needed the money from the sale. The sooner her condo closed, the better. She pulled out her planner. “Let me see what I have going on.”
“Whatever it is, you can reschedule. This is important.”
Whereas nothing in her life mattered quite as much. God, she’d forgotten how self-centered he could be. “I guess you’re in a big hurry to move on and start decorating that nursery.”
Why had she said that? Why did she always let him drag her into the muck?
“You’ve heard. Sandy’s due in February.”
She wanted to believe the smug delight in his voice was merely her imagination, she really did. “Wow, you sure didn’t waste any time.”
“Seven years, actually. I wasted seven years.”
Direct hit. Her throat tightened, infuriating her all the more. His words shouldn’t bother her. She didn’t love him. Hell, normally she couldn’t even work up the energy to hate him. Still, to be told she was a waste of his time stung.
“Nice, Travis.” At least her voice didn’t tremble or turn hoarse.
“Don’t sound so wounded. When you married me, you knew I wanted a family.”
“And when my faulty uterus and I couldn’t give it to you, you moved on to someone who could. Don’t worry, I get it.”
“You’re the one who walked away. You’re the one who gave up, not me.”
“God forbid
I get tired of living like a walking test tube.” How could they still be having this argument?
“We only tried for five years. There are couples who try for twice that long. Longer.”
Her mouth dried. The idea of putting herself through it all over and over again, year after year…she shuddered.
“The problem with you,” Travis continued, “is you’re too damned selfish. It’s a good thing you can’t have kids because all you ever cared about was your books and your psychopaths.”
Doubt poked at her conscience like a tongue at a rotted tooth. Was there really something so wrong with thinking she could still have a life, still be happy, still be whole without children?
A wave of exhaustion washed over her. Every time she spoke to Travis, the same doubts crept into her head. At least once their condo sold she wouldn’t have to deal with him again.
She checked her schedule for the following day. She had nothing planned except a possible move depending on what Des arranged. Tomorrow would work for her. And since she’d be back in the city, she could maybe take a chance and try to see Robert Anderson. “Yeah, I can make it. Why are you calling and not my lawyer?”
“I was worried you might be difficult.”
Her, difficult? She’d wanted to sell the condo all along. He’d been the one dragging his feet. He’d been the difficult one.
No, she was not going to get into it with him again. “Look, I have to go. I have a lot of work to do.”
“That’s right, the ever-present deadline. It’s all I’ve heard about since we met.”
She tightened her free hand into a fist, her fingernails digging into her flesh, and turned, ready to hang up.
“We’re not married anymore. I don’t have to listen to this shi—” The words died on her lips, her gaze tangling with Des’s silvery eyes. He stood inside the door, his expression shuttered. Heat crept into her face.
“You better not have hung up,” Travis said, but she wasn’t listening anymore.
“I have to go.” How much had Des overheard.
“Yes, that’s right, your precious book. I’m sure your army of deranged fans can hardly wait to read the exploits of whatever psycho you’re writing about now. Nothing ever changes with you—”
