by Docter, K. L
Handing a cup of black coffee to Patrick, Evelyn caught the silent warning. She frowned. “For goodness sake, Ross, I won’t fly off the handle because I’m not the least bit involved in my son’s wedding arrangements. I respect Jack’s reasons for not upsetting Maggie’s family.”
“But you said you were going on vacation,” Patrick said, “precisely because you couldn’t stand being left out of everything.”
“I’ll admit it was bothering me a bit, but that’s not the real reason why I agreed to go. I just didn’t want Jack to stress, worrying that I was stressing. Your brother’s going to have enough on his plate once he marries that family.” She shrugged. “I have five more chances to plan a wedding.”
Despite her conciliatory tone, it sounded to Rachel like Evelyn had reservations about her son’s future in-laws.
“Jack’s not marrying Maggie’s family, Mom.”
“Want to bet? Just because you didn’t have to deal with Karly’s dysfunctional parents…oh, fiddle.” Making a face that made it clear she hadn’t intended to reveal so much, she walked back to the stove and flipped three large pancakes onto an empty plate. “The point is a man and a woman brings more than themselves into a marriage.” She returned to the table and set the plate in front of Patrick. “More relationships are destroyed by a spouse’s family than you can imagine.”
“We lucked out with ours,” Ross said, handing the syrup bottle across the table to Patrick. “My parents worshipped the ground your mom walked on.”
“Mine felt the same about you,” Evelyn said to Ross, “once they started talking to us again.”
“Best anniversary party ever!” He grinned at his wife. “Although it did take two years for them to decide you could be happy ‘slumming’ on a lowly cop’s salary.”
“I’m praying Jack won’t have to wait that long,” she said, a crease over her brow. “Maggie’s family—” She shrugged.
The older Thornes shared a look before Patrick pointedly reminded them of his question. “So it was your knee that brought you home early. How did you hurt it?”
Evelyn snorted. “Your father caught a downdraft parasailing.”
Ross snorted, and shifted in his chair. “The island doc said it’s just a sprain. We could have stayed, spent the rest of our vacation lying in a hammock on the beach, but your mom insisted we come home.”
“You might have been killed, Ross,” Evelyn said, irritation and worry in her voice. “You’re sixty-four years old and shouldn’t have—”
“Ah, Evie.” Ross pulled the woman down onto his good knee. “You’re just ticked I went first and you didn’t get your turn. I agreed to see our doctor when we got home, so stop nagging on me.”
“Fine. But, if I’m right and the doctor says your ACL is torn, you owe me a prime rib dinner at The Timber Wolf.” Evelyn placed both hands on his jaw and kissed him. “And next time, Mr. Hotshot, I get to go first.”
“I’m sure I speak for all of my brothers when I say I’d be more comfortable if you’d both keep your feet on the ground,” Patrick said dryly, taking a bite of blueberry pancakes.
His parents grinned. Then, Patrick’s brother-in-law, Skip, walked in from outside.
Rachel hadn’t seen him up close since the incident with the councilman. He was wearing his usual jeans over his lanky frame. Today, they looked new and he sported a white button-down shirt beneath a dark blue suit coat. Add a striped tie, his dark brown hair slicked back with some sort of gel, and it looked like he was going on a date. “Good morning, Skip,” she said. “You look very nice today.”
“I’m visiting my sister’s grave.” He shuffled his feet. “It’s her birthday.”
“Oh.” Seeing Patrick’s stony expression across the table, Rachel’s heart sank. He’d never mentioned his dead wife and she’d been too afraid to wade into what she suspected were deep waters. Did he still love his wife? Rachel had no illusions he had strong feelings beyond lust for her, which caused a pang in her heart.
When she looked at Evelyn, she found her watching Patrick, too. “Your flowers are ready inside the greenhouse door, Skip,” she said, rising from Ross’s knee. “Leave them in the water bucket until you get up to the cabin or they’ll wilt.”
“Did you want me to take yours with me, Patrick?” he asked.
Patrick blinked. “I didn’t—”
Evelyn interrupted. “That would be nice, Skip,” she said. “I put both bouquets in the bucket.” She gestured to the food on the table. “Before you go, would you like some blueberry pancakes?”
“No thanks, Evelyn. I grabbed a breakfast sandwich on the way over.” He smiled at Rachel. “I’m happy to see you’re none the worse after Thursday.”
“I’m not the one who saved the day,” she said, remembering the horror she’d felt when she realized Patrick might be killed right in front of her. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but thanks for what you did.”
“I had to protect Patrick.” He looked at him with hero worship. “Karly may be gone, but he’s still family. He gave me a job and a home when I came back from the army after Karly…um, he gave me purpose again.”
Patrick sat stiffly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with his brother-in-law’s praise. Or was it the second mention of Karly’s death that was causing the trouble? “Still a heroic thing to do, Skip,” he agreed, “and we’re all grateful for your quick thinking. You saved our lives. I meant what I said last night. Don’t hurry back to work today. It’ll take at least four hours to get up to the cabin and back, so stay the night and return in the morning. You know where to find the key.”
Skip shook his head. “Can’t. We’ve got trouble at Southgate. It’s why I’m here…besides the flowers, I mean. Seems the landscaper we contracted ran off to Mexico with his office girl. He left his wife and crew high and dry.”
Patrick cursed, and then glanced at Amanda, who stared at him across the kitchen table with wide eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile before he spoke to Skip again in a calmer voice. “They’ve barely started landscaping the first building. There’s at least two weeks of work, maybe three. Please tell me he left someone in charge of the project.”
“I wish. According to the employee I talked to, boss man was too cheap to pay a crew lead. He was running the show,” Skip said. “His guys want to work. They just have no one to give them direction. Or pay them. He cleaned out his business accounts, along with his personal ones.”
Pushing his plate of uneaten pancakes into the center of the table, a muscle ticked in Patrick’s jaw. “The grand opening of the first two buildings is already scheduled. There has to be someone who can take over.”
“I’ve made a few phone calls.” Skip shrugged. “All of the available landscapers either have full schedules for the summer or don’t have the resources to handle a project of this size in the time we have left.”
Evelyn spoke up. “Rachel can do it, Patrick. She’s has a degree in landscape design and she’s going to be Katy’s partner when she returns to Dallas. She can take over the project, and you can pay the crew yourself.”
“I can’t—” Rachel started to say when she processed what Evelyn said. Katy was offering her a partnership? She’d mentioned the possibility of training her to take over once, years ago when she’d first worked for Katy the summer before she went off to college and met Greg, but they hadn’t discussed it again. If asked a couple of weeks ago, she’d have been thrilled. She wasn’t planning to give up her landscaping dreams after her great-aunt’s estate was settled. But, she glanced at Patrick, so much had changed.
“She can’t,” he said firmly. “She may have the skills, but I can’t guarantee her safety if she’s running all over the site.”
His gaze bounced off Rachel and she wondered if this was his way of distancing himself after last night. He’d made it clear, then, he hadn’t wanted to get involved, but he had and now he couldn’t look at her?
Suddenly furious with the man, her own gullibility, she straightened
her shoulders. “You insisted on bringing back my dad’s bodyguards, Patrick, so let them guard. I’d rather be connected at the hip with them doing something useful than sitting in the trailer twiddling my thumbs.” She rushed on before he could shoot her down. “You have the blueprints for the job, right?”
Their gazes locked and, for a moment, she lost herself in the heat of his eyes. His next words washed over her like a bucket of ice water. “Of course, I have blueprints. But what about Amanda and Suze?” he asked. “Are you planning to traipse them all over the site, too? The idea is to keep them safe and that means keeping them hidden.”
Her anger dissipated under his argument. She dare not expose the children. Greg would jump on any chance to get his hands on Amanda. “Maybe I can help from the safety of the trailer,” she conceded. “I don’t have to be hands on. I could give the landscapers direction and someone on your crew can monitor things for me.”
“I don’t think—”
“The girls can stay here under lock and key with me and your dad, Patrick,” Evelyn interjected. She smiled at Amanda. “Would you like to spend the day with me and Suze baking cookies, sweetie?”
Amanda’s head bounced up and down excitedly. Then she glanced at her mother.
It broke Rachel’s heart to see her little girl’s eyes dim. Of course, Amanda would jump at the chance to bake cookies. It was her favorite thing to do with her mother before their life fell apart. Once they reached Dallas, Rachel was so busy trying to save Katy and her nurseries that baking had fallen by the wayside.
Maybe the normal activity was just what her daughter needed. Between a security system, Buckwheat, and Patrick’s policeman father, she’d be safe enough here at the house. The question was could she let her daughter out of her sight? They’d never been further than a room or two apart since they fled the west coast. “Do you want to stay here all day with Miss Evelyn and Suze if Mama’s not here?”
Her little girl nodded vigorously, her eyes pleading.
Was Rachel the only one having separation anxiety? “What about your doctor’s appointment?” she asked Ross.
“I doubt we’ll get one today,” he said, “but if we do, we’ll take Amanda with us. I may not be able to do a 50-yard sprint, but I’m perfectly able to guard her.”
Evelyn nodded. “And Ross taught me self-defense. We’ll protect Amanda like our own.”
Rachel looked at Patrick, who was following the discussion with a closed expression. “Looks like you all have it planned out,” he said quietly.
Too quietly. “If you don’t want me to work for you, if you don’t think I can do the job, just say so, Patrick. You won’t hurt my feelings.” Her feelings would be hurt, but she was a big girl.
“I’ve seen your blueprints for Katy. I have no doubts you can do the job. My concern is your safety.”
She understood—she’d be exposing herself—but she felt more confident knowing a guard, not to mention an entire work crew, would be with her every second. As long as Amanda was happy and secure, she really wanted to do this. Getting her hands dirty was what she loved about landscaping, and she owed Patrick so much. “If you find it’s not working, you can lock us back up in the trailer and I’ll do what I can from there.”
“It’s settled then,” Evelyn said briskly, reaching out to touch Amanda’s cheek. “We’re going to make oodles and oodles of cookies, sweetie. Maybe we can do something crafty. Suze loves to make noodle pictures. Do you like them, too?”
Amanda nodded happily.
Patrick pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “I have things to do before we can go,” he told his mother, who glanced at his uneaten pancakes. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom. Sorry I can’t stay to finish.” He looked in Rachel’s direction without actually meeting her gaze. “Be ready to go in half an hour.”
He nodded to Skip. “Let’s talk to Jane about rearranging a couple of things on the schedule before you take off for the day.”
Rachel watched the kitchen door close behind the two men. She’d wondered what would change between her and Patrick after their lovemaking. Now, she knew. Patrick hadn’t done or said anything to suggest he was as aware of her as she was of him. Add business and the reminder a dead wife also lay between them—one she suspected Patrick still loved—and her hope he might actually care about her was crushed.
Hurt ran over her, quickly swallowed by the protective armor of anger. The man showed her heaven, and then snatched it away? Fine. Cool and professional was what Patrick wanted? That’s what he’d get.
~~~
Two Weeks….
Four Days….
Five Hours….
…’Til death.
“Still waiting to kill Thorne?”
Robby didn’t appreciate the monster’s snide tone because it reverberated through his aching skull like a jackhammer, drowning out the sound of the backhoe digging a trench behind him. Bad things kept happening to Patrick Thorne—some of his design, some just good fortune smiling down on him—yet the contractor kept coming up smelling like roses.
He’d been excited when he heard the landscaper ran off with his mistress, leaving Thorne without a way to finish the Southgate project in time for the grand opening next month—Robby couldn’t have planned a better blow to Thorne Enterprises—but barely twenty-four hours had passed and the problem was already solved. Not a hiccup in Thorne’s precious schedule.
And, this time, Robby didn’t have Skip to blame.
His stomach cramped as he watched the James woman point where trees should be planted on a berm at the edge of the project fifty yards away. She laughed at something one of the men said, shook her head, and then they examined one of the trees together. The woman obviously knew what she was doing. The huge man that hovered at her back, never more than four feet away, kept an eagle eye on their surroundings and marked him as the bodyguard Thorne had hired. I’m beginning to see your point.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The churning darkness in Robby’s brain began to grow until it blurred his eyesight from the outside corners, creeping inward. A frisson of fear swept through him, but he battled the maelstrom back. Yet, it wasn’t easy to regain control. The monster was becoming stronger each day. Soon, he wouldn’t be contained, and Robby would lose himself forever to the blackness. For that reason alone, he might have to change his timetable for Thorne.
But, not yet. His Angel hadn’t said the words. If he gave her more time, she would make the right decision. He knew it. The date of Thorne’s death wouldn’t matter once she made the right choice. Maybe tonight when he took her the present he’d bought her. We wait.
The darkness howled.
Chapter Eighteen
Patrick stared in shock at the man who’d tracked him down to the unfinished third floor of the final Southgate building. Grant Colbert had been a thorn in Patrick’s side since he won the contract late last fall to build the real estate mogul’s luxury home in the countryside north of Denver. He’d scrambled to get the dirt work done, the house closed up before winter settled in, but Grant had demanded so many changes through the following months, the interior wasn’t signed off until last week.
“You fired the landscaper? For god’s sake, why?” He knew the moment he saw Colbert’s expression tighten that he could have phrased his question more diplomatically. It wasn’t as if he’d lost money on the contract because Colbert insisted on paying for all of the changes, but he was tired of the man’s manipulations. Patrick had finished two fifty-unit Southgate apartment buildings in the time it had taken him to build this man’s twelve-thousand square foot house.
“I can make him fix whatever he did wrong,” he said. “Finding another landscaper at this late date will be next to impossible and you want the job finished in plenty of time for your Fourth of July party.”
Normally an even-tempered man, despite his demanding pickiness, Colbert blew up. “That asshole’s not stepping foot on my property again. It was bad enough his workers put a t
ree through my office window and he refused to repair the damage. But then, he had the audacity to tell me I have to pay for another tree to replace the one they put through the window!”
Patrick wasn’t thrilled he’d have to tear crew off one of his other jobs to replace the window and chase down the landscaper for payment. But those weren’t his biggest problems at this moment. “I’d be upset, too, Grant,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “Finding a replacement landscaper now is going to be tricky. All the good ones are book—”
One of Colbert’s trademark have-I-got-a-deal-for-you smiles crossed his face. “Already covered. I spoke to the woman doing your landscaping here. She’s giving me a bid. Looking out my window at that all day, she can charge me the moon. I’ll pay it.
“She’s coming out to my house to get the lay of the land, but I doubt there’s any question we can work something out. I already called in a glazier to fix the window. The landscaper responsible for the breakage will foot the bill if he wants to continue working in this town.
“So we’re back on track, Rick, and everyone’s happy. Just tracked you down to fill you in.” He shook Patrick’s hand, turned, and walked through the stud wall toward the temporary elevator that had brought him to the third floor. He lifted the crossbar blocking the open shaft, stepped inside the cage, replaced the bar and started his descent with a push of a button.
Watching the man’s hundred dollar haircut disappear from view, Patrick cursed. Not at Colbert’s persistent use of an abbreviated version of his name or because the man managed to get on-site without a hard hat, but because the landscaper the man evidently hired was Rachel. Patrick should be happy the man had solved his own problem for a change. He didn’t have room for another schedule delay.
In the past twenty-four hours, Rachel had proven she could do the job. The missing landscaper’s crew was working happily and efficiently under her direction, and she’d made more progress with the project than he’d expected. He didn’t, however, want her to work for Grant Colbert.
