Headlong

by Shannon McKenna

  “I see. How about you?” The words flew out of her mouth before she realized how unprepared she was to hear his answer.

  Eric was quiet for a long time before replying. “I’m more subject to guilt than either one of them,” he said.

  Demi snorted under her breath. “Well, that’s unfortunate. For you.”

  “I suppose,” he said.

  She shoveled stuff haphazardly into the tray, feeling her face go hot. “Well,” she said finally. “I have a bunch of things to deal with in the kitchen, so I’m going to leave you here to wait for Elisa on your own.” She placed the tray next to him. “Take this when you go. Give your brothers my best, and have a good evening.” And a nice life. And fuck you very much. She spun around and marched away.

  “Demi, I have to talk to you.”

  She stopped short with her back to him. The cheerful banter of the kitchen staff came suddenly into the foreground, along with the clatter of pots and pans and cutlery.

  “No, Eric,” she said. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “It’s important. And urgent. Please.”

  “What about?” She still couldn’t move. It was like every muscle in her body had contracted to stone-hard tension, waiting for his answer.

  “I don’t want to be overheard.” Eric moved toward her. His voice was quiet, but its depth and resonance hummed through her, as if she was a bell that had been rung.

  Or was still ringing, more like.

  He stopped, almost close enough to touch her. She could feel that quality he projected. The heat. That overwhelming energy that hung around him like a force field.

  “Can we go into the meeting room?” He gestured toward the room off to the side where she put the birthday parties. “It’s private.”

  She stepped back. “No, Eric.” Her voice vibrated with anger. “We cannot go into the meeting room. There is nothing private between us. Say what you need to say to me, and make it quick. I’m busy.”

  “It’s about those funeral crashers that were in here earlier,” he said. “The ones I wanted to throw out.”

  “What about them? They turned out not to be a problem. Much less of a problem than you. They left right after you did.”

  “I know they left,” Eric said. “I saw them in the street. I also overheard what they were saying to each other.”

  Demi gestured impatiently. “Yeah? So?”

  “They were talking about your dad. They were going to put the squeeze on him. The way they said it, they had to go rattle his chain. Give him a pep talk.”

  Demi’s blood chilled, in every part of her body. A horrible, sinking feeling. Her ears started to ring. “About what?”

  “That part wasn’t clear,” he admitted. “Some job your dad was supposed to do for their boss. Something involving buying some property, ensuring privacy. For some reason, he hadn’t done the job like they wanted him to.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, biting her lip. “And this is your business exactly why?”

  “I only made it my business when I heard them mention you.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Me? What did they say? I don’t even know those guys!”

  “They didn’t say it directly, but from what I heard when they were talking to him, it sounded like they were implying some threat to you if he didn’t deliver.”

  “Talked…to him? To my dad, you mean?”

  Eric nodded.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that a couple of mobsters shook down my dad. Out on the street. In front of you, of all people.”

  Eric’s face tightened, as if bracing himself. “No,” he said reluctantly. “It didn’t happen out on the street. And they didn’t see me. I heard your name mentioned as they got into their car and I got curious. So I, uh…followed them.”

  “I see,” she said. “To where?”

  An agonizing pause, and he finally came out with it. “Your dad’s house.”

  Demi realized, after a few beats, that her mouth was open. She forced herself to close it. “You went to my dad’s house,” she repeated. “And spied on a conversation that he had with these men.”

  Eric nodded again.

  “Where exactly did you overhear them? Did you put your ear to the door?”

  “I was out back, behind the pool house in the trees,” he admitted. “They were in the back yard. Your dad was on the side porch. I heard every word.”

  “I see.” Her voice felt deadened and flat. “You mean, you were hiding in the security camera’s blind spots. The ones that I showed you years ago.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Demi couldn’t control her face. She could barely feel it. She turned away, and spoke without looking at him. “I hope you understand how sick and twisted this is. Sneaking around my dad’s house. Spying on him. I should call the cops on you.”

  “Please don’t,” he said. “I heard them say your name. I had to do it.”

  “It is still not your business.” Anger shook her voice. “Even if they were plotting to fucking murder me, it would still not be your business. You abdicated the right to be interested in my welfare many years ago. Your interest now is unwelcome.”

  “I knew you’d feel that way,” he said.

  “Then why the hell did you throw this in my face?”

  “You needed to know.” His face was stubborn. “You need to be on your guard.”

  “I am,” she told him fervently. “After a lifetime of being my father’s daughter, plus a very memorable three-day affair with you? You better believe I’m on my guard. I’ll be on my guard until the day I die.”

  “You need to be specifically on the alert for those guys. It’s not safe for—”

  “Don’t pretend you care about my safety. And don’t you dare use that to justify getting anywhere near me or my dad, you sick, manipulative bastard.”

  He nodded. “Understood.” His voice sounded strangled.

  “I just don’t get this,” she said. “Are you actively, deliberately trying to get into trouble again? Do you have some twisted psychological complex?”

  “I had to,” he said simply. “I believe in doing the right thing. Even when it hurts.”

  That hurt, like a blow to the chest. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “Demi, I just want—”

  “Go!”

  He backed toward the door. “I’m sorry I upset you. Just please, watch your back.”

  “I do. It’s a trick I learned from tangling with you. Your great and lasting gift to me. I always watch my back. I can’t ever stop. So don’t worry, I’m covered. Get out.”

  He was almost out the door when Elisa opened the door, the chalkboard in her hands. She glanced from Demi to Eric, bewildered. “Sorry about the wait,” she said. “I had to wait for the spray to dry. It’s probably okay, but you should try not to touch the surface for a few more minutes, just to be sure.” Her voice petered out as she sensed the weirdness in the air. She turned to Eric. “Do you…still want it?”

  Demi sighed, gesturing at Eric. “Take it,” she snapped. “Be quick about it.”

  Eric took the picture from Elisa’s hands. “Thank you,” he said gravely. “I left the money on the bar.”

  Elisa looked distressed. “I told you, it’s not for sale. Please don’t—”

  “Just take the thing and go, goddamn it!”

  Utter silence followed Demi’s savage outburst. Silence from the kitchen. No more water spraying, clanking pots, jabbering or giggling. Everyone was holding their breath.

  Elisa’s eyes were wide with alarm.

  “Sorry,” Eric said quietly. “About all of it.”

  He went out the door, holding the chalkboard gingerly by the edges, and disappeared into the gloom.

  Demi covered her face with her hands and fought for control. She felt Elisa’s slender hand on her shoulder.

  “Demi,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to ye
ll. Just…give me a minute.”

  Elisa waited without a word, patiently leaving the weight and warmth of her hand on Demi’s shoulder until she pulled one hitching breath, then another, into her chest.

  “Have you ever thought you knew someone, and then found out that they were someone completely different?” Demi’s voice was tight and shaking. “And I mean, night and day different.”

  Elisa squeezed her shoulder. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Something in her tone made Demi turn to look at her. Elisa’s eyes were wet. They wrapped their arms around each other and hung on.

  When Demi finally released Elisa from the shaking hug, her own face was wet, and she needed tissues, urgently. She took care of her own goopy nose, then passed the tissue packet to Elisa, along with the pile of fifties that Eric had left on the bar. “Take this.”

  “Demi, I—”

  “I would count it as a huge favor if you would not argue about it. Please.” She looked over at Gomez and Alba, her latest hires for the kitchen staff, who were peeping through the kitchen entrance with wide, worried eyes. She whipped off her apron. “Would the three of you close up for me? I just need to go hide out for a while at home.”

  “Of course,” Elisa said.

  “No problem,” Alba chimed in. “Go on home. We got this. See you tomorrow.”

  Demi grabbed her jacket and her purse and hurried out into the chilly, windy gloom outside. Dead leaves swept and whirled in the gusts of wind. She looked in every direction to make sure that Eric wasn’t still lurking out there.

  Headlights approached. Her guts went heavy and cold with dread…until she saw who was driving. An older lady with a big cloud of frizzy hair. Not the funeral crashers.

  Then she could breathe again, and steady her wobbling knees.

  Well, wasn’t that lovely. Something new and fresh to feel uptight and paranoid about.

  Eric Trask was just the gift that kept on giving.

  5

  Anton was putting his box of Otis’s framed photographs into the back of his Mercedes GLS when Eric pulled up outside Otis’s house. They’d agreed that Otis’s wildlife photos and camera equipment were the only personal items that they’d keep, and the rest of Otis’s stuff would be donated to the thrift store charity in town. Last night they had drawn lots for first and second dibs and had then taken turns choosing their favorite photos until all photos, cameras and lenses were sorted into three piles to be carried away.

  Heavy clouds were massed in the darkening sky. Trees on the mountainside tossed in the wind. Eric sat in his car and watched as Anton slammed the back of his SUV closed and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. The wind ruffled his thatch of brown hair. Longer on top, buzzed short at the sides. Otis had hated that look. Punk-trash, he called it, but Anton had serenely ignored Otis’s fashion dictates.

  Rain beaded Anton’s long, black leather coat. His face was grim, and his dark eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. None of them were sleeping for shit.

  Eric got out of the Porsche and watched Mace finished duct-taping a square of cardboard over the broken pane of glass in the door that Demi had broken to get to Otis.

  Mace came down the porch stairs after he finished and strolled toward them, spinning the roll of tape on his forefinger with a big, manic grin that fooled no one. The back of his hand was gnarled and shiny from the burn scars that covered it.

  “So?” he asked. “How did it go? Did Shaw’s Crossing clasp you tenderly to its bosom? Were there shrimp puffs and pigs in a blanket? Did you write your check? Was there drama?”

  “The Corner Café belongs to Demi Vaughan now,” Eric told them.

  His brothers exchanged alarmed glances.

  Anton whistled softly. “I’ll be goddamned. So there was drama after all. I’m sorry now that I didn’t go. We missed the floor show. Bet it was something.”

  “So?” Mace asked. “What went down? Did Benedict Vaughan and Big Granddaddy Shaw try to lock you up again?”

  “Vaughan made threatening noises,” Eric said. “But he has bigger problems than me.”

  “Bet you didn’t even notice the dad and granddad,” Mace said. “Not with Demi Vaughan offering you trays of luscious finger food held up to the level of her cleavage.”

  “She wasn’t showing off her tits, Mace,” Eric said through his teeth.

  “No problem,” Mace said cheerfully. “I can fill in the blanks with my overheated imagination.”

  “How about you don’t.”

  Mace looked taken aback by his brother’s tone. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about it,” he said. “Since you’re so completely over the whole thing, like you say.”

  “Demi was the one who found Otis,” Eric said.

  That wiped the smile off Mace’s face.

  “What the hell was she doing way out here?” Anton asked.

  “Being neighborly,” Eric said. “She came out to bring him some pie that morning. Saw him through the window, laid out on the floor. She broke the window. Called the ambulance. Stayed with him at the ICU until he died. Wade told me about it.”

  “So,” Mace said, swallowing hard. “Good, then. He didn’t die alone.”

  In the silence, the pine boughs swished in the gusts of wind. A drift of dead leaves scudded across the muddy dirt road around their feet.

  “And this information is relevant to us exactly why?” Anton asked finally.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” Eric replied. “It’s not relevant to anything. I just didn’t want to be the only one who knew it.”

  “Thanks for sharing,” Mace said sourly.

  “You’re fucking welcome. But that wasn’t the end of my adventures in Shaw’s Crossing today. Remember the funeral-crashing goons?”

  “Oh, shit.” Anton looked like he was bracing himself. “What did you do?”

  “They were at the reception. Benedict Vaughan’s got himself mixed up with some thugs, and apparently, he owes them. Now they’re squeezing him. I overheard them saying ugly things about Demi.”

  Anton and Mace’s faces went blank with shock.

  Anton was the first to recover. “Excuse me? And how do you know all this?”

  “I overheard them talking to Vaughan at his house. I heard Demi’s name mentioned when they were walking past me on the street, so I followed them to find out what they were up to. That’s where they ended up.”

  “Benedict Vaughan’s house,” Mace repeated, incredulous. “You followed a couple of thugs to Benedict Vaughan’s house and spied on his shit? We only left you alone for a couple hours! Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “I wanted info,” Eric said, defensive. “I don’t care if Vaughan goes down in flames, but I don’t want him dragging Demi down with him.”

  “Dude,” Anton said heavily. “You keep messing with these people, and the only one going down in flames will be you.”

  “I don’t intend to engage with them,” he told them. “I’m backing off from the whole thing, I promise. I just stopped by the restaurant to warn Demi, in case they—”

  “You told her that you stalked her butthead dad?” Mace put his hands in his hair. “Do you have a fucking death wish? They’ll put your punk ass in jail for real this time, and I wouldn’t blame them!”

  “It was the right thing to do,” Eric said stubbornly. “I had to tell her.”

  “Did it occur to you that Demi might not want to know just how much of a fuck-up loser her dad is?” Mace said. “She might have been better off in happy ignorance, but you just had to burden her with this knowledge. What a prince. Real altruistic of you.”

  “She is in danger,” Eric said, with cold emphasis. “I had to warn her. In any case, it’s a done deal, so forget about it. I don’t think she’s going to call the dogs on me now.”

  Mace let out a harsh laugh. “When it comes to Shaw’s Crossing, expect the worst. This place is poisonous. Let’s leave right now. Before shit gets ugly.”

  “We need to be here tomorrow,�
�� Eric said. “We have to call the thrift store truck to come pick up Otis’s stuff, remember? Plus, we have those appointments with Otis’s estate lawyer and the real estate agent. I saw Terry Cattrall at the funeral home yesterday and he said he could go up to GodsAcre tomorrow and out to Otis’s property the morning after, so we can go ahead and put them both on the market. Let’s finish this.”

  Anton squinted at him. “You should be more anxious than any of us to get out of here, but you’re dragging your feet. Makes me wonder what the fuck is going on inside your head. What are you holding out for?”

  “Nothing,” Eric said impatiently. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I just want to see this all through so we can put this place behind us for good.”

  “We can leave a key for the thrift store people,” Mace said. “They can do their thing without us. We got what we wanted from the house. Put your box of Otis’s pictures into your car and boom, you’re done.”

  “If there’s more business with the real estate agent or the lawyers or whoever, I’ll pay for them to fly up to Seattle,” Anton said. “I’ll buy everybody’s meals, put everyone up in a nice hotel. My expense. Fair enough?”

  Eric just shook his head. “I have this feeling,” he admitted. “Like an axe is about to drop. Like I’m holding my breath. Waiting for something.”

  “It’s the Curse,” Mace said grimly.

  “It’s also Otis’s message,” Anton said. “We’re never going to know what he wanted to tell us. We have to let it go.”

  “Yeah, and let go of Demi Vaughan, too, while you’re at it,” Mace murmured.

  “I’m not hanging on to her!” Eric snarled.

  The hand Anton ran through his dark hair made it stick up wildly. “You’re scaring me, dude,” he said. “But I can’t stay, even to babysit you. I can’t fucking breathe in this town. Otis was the only good reason to be here, and he’s gone. So for fuck’s sake, come on. Let’s shake the dust of this place off our feet.”

  “Yeah,” Mace said. “The Curse is biting your ass already. It’ll chew you up and spit you out if you stay here longer.”

  “Agreed,” Anton said. “We should all run. But you should run the fastest.”