Before Clancy could respond, Austin grabbed his arm and led him to the couch. He shoved a pile of clothes to the floor with his free hand and pushed the man roughly onto the lumpy cushions. Austin then sat across from him in the chair Jack had vacated a few moments ago. He could hear Jack in the tiny kitchenette, cursing as he searched for a clean glass.
Clancy tapped his fingers nervously against his leg and stared at the floor.
Austin watched Clancy. The silence stretched.
Finally, Jack returned. He gave Clancy something in a paper cup, shrugging when Austin shot him a questioning look. “I found a bottle of open wine in the fridge,” he explained, “but no clean glassware.”
Trying to remember when he’d purchased wine last, Austin frowned. It came to him just as Clancy tipped the cup up and drained the liquid; he’d bought a bottle to go with a spaghetti dinner he’d attempted to cook for a date.
Six or seven months ago.
“Got any more?” Clancy held the cup out. Jack snatched it, stomping into the kitchen for a refill, muttering, “Do I look like a freakin’ maid?”
Austin almost smiled. But his humor faded when he thought of Candice growing up with Clancy as her father. He suddenly remembered the reporter at the clinic asking her about her alcoholic stepfather. Not that he needed the reminder; Clancy’s bloodshot eyes and the eager way he guzzled the stale wine said it all.
When Jack returned and perched on the edge of Austin’s chair arm, Austin addressed Clancy. “You can start by telling us who you’re working for.” He wasn’t fooled by Clancy’s indignant look or the feigned outrage in his voice.
“I work for myself!”
Unperturbed and unconvinced, Austin’s gaze bore into Clancy’s. “All right. So you’re a freelancer. Who are you planning to sell your information to?”
Instead of answering, Clancy tipped the cup to his mouth and tapped the bottom. He eyed Austin over the rim. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, Austin let him know their efforts at hospitality had come to an end. No more booze until they heard some answers. Then, if he still wanted to commit gastrointestinal suicide, Austin wouldn’t stop him.
“That depends.” Clancy paused, his feral gaze wavering from Austin to Jack, then back to Austin again. Apparently, two cups of wine had given him a sense of courage. “On who has the most to offer.”
Jack jumped to his feet, his voice shrill with a mixture of bewilderment and disgust. “Why would you do something like this to your own daughter?” he demanded.
“Stepdaughter,” Clancy corrected perversely. “She stopped helping me out when her husband kicked the bucket.”
Pointing an accusing finger at him, Jack cried, “You said yourself that you raised her! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Austin silently applauded Jack’s spirited questions. It didn’t happen often, but when Jack felt strongly about something, he reminded Austin of a small yet lethal tornado.
“This is blackmail, Clancy! Pure and simple blackmail, and if you think for one minute that my brother is going to—”
“Enough, Jack.” Austin didn’t have to shout to get his brother’s attention.
Jack stared at him as if he’d suddenly developed horns and a tail. “Surely you’re not going to let this low-life snake blackmail you?” he squeaked in disbelief. “Austin, I know that in the past I’ve mocked you for being so damned righteous, but I’ve always admired that about you, too. You can’t let this—this excuse for a man corrupt you.”
Austin swallowed a burning ball of pride. Jack had picked the wrong time to develop a conscience, because Austin knew with a deep, gut-wrenching dread that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. The information Clancy possessed was far too valuable for a desperate man like Clancy to keep to himself.
And Austin wasn’t ready for the proverbial ax to fall.
Pinning his cold gaze on Clancy, he said, “Clancy, why don’t you tell Jack what will happen if I don’t make you an offer.”
Clancy licked his lips, squirming beneath Austin’s open hostility. “I’ll offer the information to the media first. If they decline, then I’ll go to Howard’s sons.” His voice took on an irritating whine as he added, “I need the money to make a fresh start.”
A moment of thick silence followed. Jack clenched his fists and approached Clancy. In the face of his fury, Clancy shrank against the cushions. “I think we should just kill him,” Jack snarled viciously. “The world would be a better place without this scum running around wrecking people’s lives.”
Any other time and place and Austin wouldn’t have hesitated to remind Jack in great detail about his own life-wrecking talents, but not with Clancy present. “I agree, Jack, but I don’t relish rotting in prison because of this scum, either.” He paused a beat to ask softly, “Do you?”
Jack paled at the reminder. What he’d done by substituting Austin’s sperm for Howard Vanausdale’s amounted to fraud, plain and simple. When Candice found out, she could press charges and send Jack to prison. She could also sue the pants off him for malicious intent and pain and suffering.
And she just might be mad enough to do it, Austin thought. Not that he’d blame her. So what choice did he have but to give in to Clancy’s demands and hope the drunkard took the money and ran very far away? Austin didn’t want Candice hurt. He also didn’t want to lose his only chance of winning her over. And no matter how angry he was at Jack for getting him into this incredible mess, he didn’t want his little brother to go to prison.
Bribery, blackmail—it was all the same. Clancy might be blackmailing him, but wasn’t he bribing Clancy into keeping his mouth shut? And wasn’t the loss of integrity a small price to pay to protect Candice from unnecessary suffering? Not to mention the possibility of a lifetime of loving the woman of his dreams.
Raising their baby together.
“Name your price,” Austin announced abruptly.
“Austin, you’re not planning to finally use your—”
Austin shut Jack up with one tight, warning glare. The last thing he needed was for Clancy to find out about the considerable inheritance he’d always refused to touch—until now.
“Fifty thousand,” Clancy dropped into the astounded silence.
“You’re crazy!” Jack shrieked.
Wincing at the shrill sound of Jack’s voice, Austin echoed his disbelief. “Insane, indeed. Try again.”
Clancy remained stubborn. “The media would pay that, probably more. I know the Vanausdales would.”
“How do I know you won’t take my money and theirs as well?” Austin demanded, forcing himself to keep his voice low when what he really wanted to do was make the thin walls of his apartment shake.
“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“And you’re such a trustworthy kinda guy,” Jack sneered.
Instead of answering, Clancy just shrugged, as if he could care less what Jack thought of him.
Austin passed a weary hand over the stubble on his jaw. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. Again. “It will take me a few days to get that kind of money together.” Tomorrow he’d have to make a transfer from his savings to his checking account, then give it a day or two to clear.
Clancy rose from the couch, keeping a wary eye on Jack. “You’ve got until Friday. I’ll get in touch with you, and if you don’t have the money—”
“I’ll have it,” Austin growled, disgusted with himself and Pete Clancy. “Now get the hell out of my sight before I decide I like Jack’s plan better.”
Clancy left in a hurry. Jack followed him to the door like a terrier protecting his territory. Austin heard the door slam, then Jack came back into the room.
He stared at Austin for a full moment before he said, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, big brother.”
“Everything has a price, and in this instance, I’m buying time.” Austin closed his eyes and thought back to the carefree days when he had nothing more pressing to do than decide
what blend of colors he would use for a sunset. He suppressed a sigh.
“It’s very likely he’ll come back for more.” Jack knelt and began scooping up popcorn with his hands. “Blackmailers are like vampires; they find their victims and bleed them until they’re dry.”
Austin opened one eye. “You watch too many movies. Besides, by the time he uses the fifty thousand and comes back, it won’t matter any longer.”
Jack paused in his clean-up to look at him. “What are you planning to do?”
“Try to win the lovely widow’s heart.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” Austin said with a bitter little twist of his lips. “You’ll lose your job and your freedom. I’ll lose… something that has become more important to me than I ever imagined.”
Damn Jack.
Chapter Sixteen
“The roses are beautiful, aren’t they?” Mrs. Merryweather remarked as she rearranged them in an expensive crystal vase. When she was satisfied, she transferred them to the small table in the kitchen. She stood back and clasped her hands together. “I’ll just leave them here so that we can enjoy them. We haven’t used the dining room in months, so they’d only be wasted in there.”
Candice nodded despondently, hardly glancing at the two dozen perfect red roses she’d found on the back doorstep this morning. She didn’t have to look at the card to know that Austin had left them, and she didn’t have to be a genius to interpret the sparkle in the housekeeper’s eyes. But Candice strongly suspected Mrs. Merryweather had it all wrong, as painful as it was for her admit.
The roses were not a declaration of Austins devotion but the result of a guilty conscience.
To be fair, she had considered that Austin might have come to care for her and was perhaps having reservations over what he’d done. She’d even tried to convince herself in the past two days that she might have misinterpreted his dire prediction to Jack Cruise on the phone, but on further reflection, she had failed to come up with an alternative.
Very little could make her hate the man she’d grown to love so fiercely, but that kind of betrayal would give her a good head start.
A knock at the door startled her out of her gloomy thoughts. Since they rarely had company, she assumed it would be Austin. With her heart fluttering in her chest, she went to answer it, reminding herself that she didn’t have proof of anything.
Austin lounged in the doorway, wearing his customary worn, low-slung jeans and a faded cotton shirt left unbuttoned to reveal the dark golden hair on his chest. Candice licked her dry lips and hardened her heart against his powerful sexual appeal.
“Good morning.” She forced a smile to take the chill from her tone. “Thanks for the roses.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Austin muttered without his usual knock ‘em dead smile. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking harried and fed up about something. Without preamble, he launched into an explanation. “It’s like this, I sent Jack to the animal shelter to pick out a dog, and—”
“A dog,” Candice repeated, relief flooding her. For a moment there, she’d thought Austin was about to blurt out a confession. Mrs. Merryweather came to stand beside her, and together they waited expectantly.
“Yes, a dog.” Austin sounded defensive, as if he expected her to disapprove before he had a chance to complete his explanation. “You see, I thought we should get one from the shelter because it seems inhuman to go out and buy a dog when there are so many needing homes.”
“Why, I think that’s a fine idea,” Mrs. Merryweather said, beaming her approval.
Candice, slightly confused, merely nodded and waited. It was obvious that Austin was flustered about something. She tried not to stare at the light sheen of sweat beading his upper lip.
“Well, you might not think it’s a fine idea when I finish telling you what that idiot bro—friend of mine did. I gave him specific instructions. I said, ‘Get a medium-size dog, a cocker spaniel or something.’ You see, I thought it was a good idea to have a dog on the property.”
Mrs. Merryweather came alive at his explanation, revealing a bloodthirsty side of her character Candice had glimpsed the day the reporter caught them at the pool. She shook a threatening fist in the air. “Yeah, but something big enough that it can take a chunk out of one of those sneaky reporters!” She turned to Candice and gave her a look that was almost accusing. “We should have gotten one sooner.”
But Candice wasn’t listening; Austin had disappeared from the doorway. A few seconds later he reappeared leading the biggest dog she’d ever seen. A Great Dane, she thought with a visible gulp. Instinctively, she took a step backward. Mrs. Merryweather did the same, clutching Candice’s arm.
Austin looked from one doubtful face to the other and groaned. “Now you know the rest of the story. Unfortunately, that’s not all of it.”
“N-not all?” What more could there be? Candice wondered. She loved dogs, but this? Taking a deep breath for courage, she held out a hand for the dog to sniff. Cautiously the Great Dane inched forward and lowered its massive head to catch her scent.
“Uh, no. You see, there were a few things about Tiny that Jack didn’t know and the people at the shelter failed to mention.”
Fear speared through Candice as a dozen possibilities ran through her mind, each bloodier than the last. She snatched her hand back and pressed it against her pounding heart. “Dr. Jack’s okay, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine.” Austin sounded disappointed. “Here, hold the leash for a second, will ya? I’ll be back in a flash.”
Not given a choice in the matter, Candice gingerly palmed the loop attached to the end of the leash. If Tiny decided to make a run for it, she knew there was no way she could stop her.
The Great Dane stood obediently still, regarding her with intelligent, soulful eyes. Little by little, Candice began to relax. Yes, the dog was big, but it seemed gentle and harmless.
Like Austin.
But, like Austin, could the huge canine have a hidden agenda? Candice blinked as Austin came into view again. This time he carried a wicker basket, and his face was curiously flushed.
“I told Jack you’d hate me for this,” he muttered, throwing aside the blanket covering the basket. He lifted it so that she could see the contents. “Nine puppies. Nine. Jack didn’t even realize she was pregnant.”
“Aren’t they darlings!” Candice crooned, moving reluctantly aside so that Mrs. Merryweather could get a closer look. Nine tiny puppies, and by the looks of them, very healthy. She glanced up to find Austin watching them. His expression was so bemused, Candice couldn’t resist a smile, and then she remembered what he’d said a few moments ago. “I told Jack you’d hate me for this.” Was this what he’d been talking to Jack about? It had to be, she decided, relieved beyond measure. Austin and Dr. Jack had been talking about a dog. A very big, pregnant dog.
“I can take her back to the shelter,” Austin offered, misconstruing her silence.
“No.” Candice took another peep at the puppies, her gaze straying to Tiny. She looked every inch the anxious mother, sticking her nose in the basket to ascertain that her puppies were unharmed, then gazing at Candice as if to plead her case.
Candice’s heart surrendered without a fight. “We’ll just have to find homes for some of them when they’re old enough.” Feeling considerably lighter of heart now that a logical explanation for Austin’s mysterious statement had presented itself, she added dubiously, “The doghouse you built is big enough, isn’t it?”
Austin looked relieved. He shrugged, his boyish smile returning. “If it isn’t, I can build a bigger one.”
When Mrs. Merryweather excused herself for a moment to check the oven, his gaze heated up as he looked at her. Softly, he said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” And would he be thanking her if he knew what she’d been thinking about him? Somehow, Candice didn’t think so. She’d learned that Austin could be very sensitive about some iss
ues—such as trust.
“For being you,” he answered simply.
With a tenderness that made her tremble straight down to her bare toes, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. He whispered next to her ear, “Meet me in the kitchen for a midnight snack.” When he drew back, there was a soft light in his eyes that Candice had never seen before. “I’ve got to find a pet store and hope they have a sale on dog food.”
Candice smiled. “I imagine she’ll get pretty hungry feeding that many babies.”
His hot gaze moved over her, taking her breath. “Speaking of hunger…”
Mrs. Merryweather suddenly reappeared beside Candice. “Oh, are you hungry, Mr. Hyde? I’ve prepared a huge spinach lasagna for supper. You’re always welcome to eat with us.”
Smothering a giggle as Austin hastily retreated with Tiny and the basket of puppies in tow, Candice shut the door.
“Was it something I said?” Mrs. Merryweather asked, looking bewildered.
“No, no. I think he was in a hurry to get to the store before it closed.” The fib didn’t come easily, but Candice wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Merryweather that Austin hadn’t been talking about food.
“Oh.” The housekeepers frown cleared. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached behind her to untie it. “I’ll just go upstairs and get his laundry, then. I’ve noticed it piling up.”
Remembering Mrs. Merryweather’s complaints about her aching knees, Candice said, “Let me get it. The exercise will be good for me.”
“No, it’ll be too heavy,” Mrs. Merryweather began to argue.
“I’ll make two trips.” Candice folded her arms and let the housekeeper know that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It felt good to assert herself and help her dear friend in the process.
“Well, mind you watch your step, and don’t lift more than an armful at a time.”
“I promise.”
“And check the pockets. I don’t think his driver’s license can stand another washing. The things that man collects…” Mrs. Merryweather moved away, muttering beneath her breath.
She headed for the guest room where Austin kept a few of his personal belongings, showered and dressed. Since he’d moved in, she hadn’t gone into the room; privacy was something she had learned to respect at an early age, and with Howard it had become almost a religion.
Mr. Hyde’s Assets Page 19
