Next of Kin
Page 13
So Ryal wanted to change the subject. Quinn could live with that, too. “I figured you’d want eggs. Is Beth up?”
“I don’t think—”
“Yes, she’s up,” Beth said, as she walked into the kitchen. “And something sure smells good.” She handed the hairbrush she was carrying to Ryal, along with a hair band.
Ryal eyed her sleepy look and tousled hair, and wished he’d been the one to mess it up with a session of morning lovemaking, but since that was nothing but a fantasy, he ignored the sexual pull and focused on the task at hand.
“Turn around.”
Beth promptly obeyed, wincing slightly as he immediately got the hairbrush tangled in her hair.
“Quinn’s already made bacon and coffee. Want some eggs with that?” he asked, as he slid the hair band over the long ponytail he’d just brushed up, then gave it a couple of twists to keep it tight.
“Thank you, Ryal. As for the eggs, I’ll have one over easy.”
“You got it,” Quinn said, and began cracking eggs into the hot grease. “Oh, Beth, I almost forgot. I stopped by Aunt Tildy’s yesterday evening and picked up some ointment for your hands. It’s in that little blue jar by the sink.”
She eyed the small jar and picked it up. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you smell it,” Quinn drawled.
Ryal saw the look on Beth’s face and hid a grin. The old woman had a tendency toward vile concoctions, even though they were usually effective.
Beth opened the lid and sniffed cautiously. The aroma of mint was strong and refreshing.
“You guys were teasing, right?”
Quinn shrugged. Ryal was still smiling.
“It smells good, anyway,” Beth muttered. “However, I’ll wait until breakfast is over before I use it, or all we’ll smell and taste is mint.”
Ryal began taking plates out of the cabinet. “Yeah…there’s all kinds of ways to use mint. Like mint eggs, mint bacon, mint toast, mint salt, mint—”
Beth threw a pot holder at the back of his head. “Enough, funny man.”
Quinn laughed out loud, then stopped abruptly and turned back to the eggs, but Ryal caught it.
He hadn’t heard Quinn laugh very many times since he’d come home from his last tour of duty, and it was a good feeling to know it could still happen.
A couple of hours later, with the dishes done and Quinn asleep in Ryal’s bedroom, Beth’s hands had been doctored with Aunt Tildy’s remedy and she was rocking in the porch swing just outside the kitchen door, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of the letters with Ryal, who was still out beneath the trees where he’d parked his pickup. The hood was up, and he was checking the oil and fiddling with the radiator hose with so much intensity you would have thought he was searching for car bombs. She’d been out there for almost an hour, and not once had he turned around to acknowledge her presence or say hello.
Beth frowned. She suspected he was as much at a loss as to what to do with her as she was with him. She knew how they’d gotten this way, but it was pitiful how it had come to pass. He was nursing a ten-year grudge at her, as she was at him, and though none of it was of their making, somehow that didn’t seem to matter. She’d called him a liar, and he’d given her the letters to prove her wrong. The next step was up to her.
Ryal cursed beneath his breath as he checked the oil and transmission fluid for the fifth time. There were only so many things that could be checked in a car engine without crawling underneath the vehicle, but if he stopped and turned around he would have to face Beth, and he didn’t know what to say.
All of a sudden he heard the squeak of the old screen door, and then a bang.
Thank God. She’d finally gone inside.
He slammed the hood down on the truck and was wiping the grease off his hands as he turned toward the house. Then he stopped short.
Shit.
Beth was leaning against the porch post, her arms folded across her chest and her chin up. She looked as if she was ready to fight.
And she’d tricked him.
“I thought you went inside.”
“Obviously, or you’d still be hanging upside down inside that pickup.”
He didn’t answer.
She didn’t move.
An entire minute went by without a word passing between them. Finally Ryal broke the silence.
“How long are you going to stand there?”
“Not as long as you dug around underneath that hood.”
His eyes narrowed. Her tongue and her wits had sharpened perceptibly over the past ten years. Bethie Venable was all grown up.
Beth stepped off the porch and started toward him. “We need to talk.”
He straightened his shoulders. “I know.”
“My schedule’s free. How about yours?”
He grinned.
She frowned. “What?”
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“Ten years will do that to a person.” But her frown deepened. “Changed how?”
“It’s all good. Don’t get defensive on me.”
“Ryal, don’t start—” Beth stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then started over. “About that talk…”
“Let me wash up,” he said.
She stepped aside as he walked past her into the kitchen. She heard the water running at the sink. Such an ordinary act, but she couldn’t get past the fact that she was back in Kentucky with the only man she’d ever loved, and all because someone wanted her dead.
It was nothing short of a dream come true turned into a nightmare.
The sun was hot on the back of her neck. The scent of Aunt Tildy’s mint ointment wasn’t as potent as it had been, and her hands weren’t as tender. Thanks to Quinn, at least one good thing was coming out of this day.
The screen door slammed. She took a deep breath, and then turned around and walked back up on the porch where Ryal was standing.
“I popped the top for you,” he said, handing her a cold can of Pepsi.
“Thanks,” Beth said, as she sat back down in the porch swing and took a sip.
He slid into the seat beside her and took a big drink from his own can. “Good and cold.”
“I read your letters.”
Ryal felt naked. Every ounce of love he’d ever had for her had been put on those pages and he’d been rejected, or so he’d thought.
Beth took a deep breath, willing herself to a calm she didn’t feel. “I am ashamed and appalled at what my parents did to us. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for any more than I do,” Ryal said.
“I wrote to you, too. Now I know why you didn’t answer. Dad was meddling with both our letters. I should have suspected something when I didn’t hear from you. My heart told me you wouldn’t just forget me so abruptly, but I was a naive seventeen-year-old girl who’d never been farther than fifty miles from where I was born, and I’d just been uprooted and taken to what felt like the other side of the world. Daddy kept saying the Walkers couldn’t be trusted, and after weeks of your silence, I began to believe him. For that I am very sorry.”
Ryal shrugged. “I’m sorry, too, Beth. I was older. When I finally found out about the affair between your mother and her sister’s husband, I should have known there was more to my not hearing from you than I thought.”
Beth felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. “It’s ironic that we would be thrown together again like this.”
“How so?” he asked.
“You know…before we were separated by something bad my mother did. Now we’ve been brought together again, this time by something bad I witnessed. I think the universe has a sick sense of humor.”
Ryal chuckled. “I never thought of it that way.”
When he laughed, Beth managed a slight smile. “I’m thankful for one thing,” she added.
“What’s that?”
“That ten-year-old knot in the pit of my stomach is gone.”
&nbs
p; “Same here,” he said, and slid his arm across the back of the porch swing and gave her a quick hug. “This feels like church.”
“I don’t get the connection.”
“Well, we’ve just confessed our sins, and now we’re thankful for the mercies being shown to us. The only thing missing is someone passing the collection plate.”
Beth laughed out loud.
Ryal grinned. That single sound had just made his day.
Without thinking, Beth laid a hand on his knee.
“Oh, Lord, that felt good.”
“What felt good?”
“Laughing. I haven’t laughed like that in such a long time.”
Ryal laid his hand over hers. “I always knew how to make you feel good.”
A blood rush shot straight to Beth’s belly so fast that she felt faint.
“Yes, you did,” she said.
“So…are we good now?” he asked.
She nodded. “We’re good.”
The weight of ten years of guilt was gone—just like that. Still clasping her hand, he set the porch swing moving with the toe of his boot. The gentle movement matched the peaceful quiet between them.
For the moment, this was enough.
Eleven
Ike Pappas’s private jet landed in New York City just after 7:00 p.m. He was pissed about being summoned on such short notice but knew enough to keep his emotions to himself. As the pilot was lowering the steps, he saw a car waiting for him on the tarmac. So Valenti had sent a ride. Damn considerate, considering it was his fault Ike was even there.
“Fuel up and be ready for my call,” Ike told the pilot as he left the plane.
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.
During the hour-long ride to Valenti’s estate, the sky turned dark and began threatening rain. He hoped it held off until he at least got inside. There was something about rain-splattered clothing that put a man off his game. At least it did for Ike, and he couldn’t afford to be off his game with Valenti.
Even though Ike and Valenti were on equal footing within their respective organizations, Valenti made him nervous. The man had come up through the ranks as a cleanup guy and still had the instincts of a stone-cold killer. If someone pissed him off, he took them out point-blank and dealt with the consequences afterward.
Finally the car began to slow down. When it took a turn into a tree-lined drive, Ike’s pulse kicked up. Whatever Valenti had to say, he would know soon enough.
When they pulled up beneath the three-story portico, the driver looked up into the rearview mirror at his passenger.
“I’m to take you back to the airport when your meeting is finished, Mr. Pappas. I’ll be right here when you come out.”
Ike nodded, relieved to know an exit for him was already in place. It saved the worry that Valenti had planned to do him in. Moments later he was inside and being escorted to the library.
Valenti was standing at the window with his back to the door. Ike paused as the escort left him on his own. There was no way Valenti had missed hearing their footsteps on the marble flooring, but he didn’t turn around.
Now Ike was pissed. He hadn’t come all this way to be dissed. The longer he stood there, the more indignant he became.
“You got five seconds to turn your ass around and tell me why I’m here or this meeting is over.”
Valenti turned slowly and pointed to a chair. “Close the door and sit down.”
The hair bristled on the back of Ike’s neck. “This better be good.”
Valenti waited until Ike was seated, then sat down on the corner of his desk.
“You fucked up.”
Ike stood abruptly, his fists doubled. “You don’t talk to me like that.”
Valenti moved so fast Ike staggered backward. Before he knew it, one of Valenti’s hands was under his chin, the other at the back of his head.
“I’ll talk to you any way I want to,” Valenti whispered. “You’re in the crosshairs of the FBI, which means we’re all at risk. I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. But you did your job. I did mine. It’s all for the common good, right? Then you piss off your wife—”
Ike glared. “I’m not married.”
Valenti’s fingers tightened. Not enough to stop Ike’s breathing, but enough for Ike to know Valenti could snap his neck with one simple twist.
“You think you’re in the clear, don’t you?” Valenti asked.
Ike frowned. “In the clear about what?”
Valenti cursed softly, then smiled.
That’s when Ike’s panic really hit.
“The Feds are onto you. They know you killed Lorena. They have your DNA on her clothes and all over the apartment. She was mad at you for bringing her baby boy into the business. Everyone knows you’d promised to keep him out. But you broke your promise, didn’t you? You broke it, and she found out. Did she tell you she was going to go to the Feds?”
Ike felt like throwing up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blustered. “Besides, what happens in my personal life is none of your business.”
“The hell it’s not!” Valenti shouted. “The five bosses had a meeting. If you’re indicted, we’re all implicated, and we don’t like that.”
“I’m not going to be indicted!” Ike shouted back. “I had nothing to do with Lorena’s murder. Hell yes, my DNA was probably on her clothes and all over the apartment. I’m in and out of there all the time.”
“You can’t sell me your crock of shit, Pappas. I already know you did it. What you don’t know is that she’d already gone to the Feds. They have enough circumstantial evidence already for an indictment. If they hadn’t lost their witness to the murder, you’d already be behind bars.”
Ike sat down. “How do you know she’d already gone to the Feds?”
“You ask me such a question? I know things the same way you know things. My snitches happen to be better than yours, that’s all.”
“Shit.”
Valenti finally sat back down on his desk.
“Yes, and it’s about to hit the fan,” he said. “Did you bring your passport?”
Ike looked up. “I’m not running. I have things under control.”
Valenti’s eyes darkened. “You better know what you’re talking about, Pappas. You get taken into custody, you won’t leave the jailhouse alive.”
Ike wanted to puke, but he held his ground. “I won’t be taken into custody. The witness isn’t going to live long enough to testify. There isn’t going to be an arrest or an indictment or a trial. If you’re done, I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Valenti shrugged, then stood up. “I’m done. Consider yourself warned.”
It was nearly midnight when Moe Cavanaugh landed in Lexington, Kentucky. Things had gone wrong from the first leg of the trip all the way to his destination. Weather delays coupled with grounded planes and missing pilots had turned what was to be a simple flight into an all-day marathon of fuck-ups.
By the time he got his suitcase from baggage claim and headed toward the kiosk to pick up his rental car it was after midnight. At least he’d had the foresight to book a room at a Lexington hotel during one of the layovers. Armed with directions and the GPS in the rental car, he soon found his hotel. A half hour later he was in his room, checking messages and maps on his laptop while he waited on room service.
He had a basic idea of where he would be going tomorrow from info he’d gathered from the funeral home that had buried Sam and Annie Venable; he needed to get on Interstate 64 and head east.
When his food finally came he was almost too tired to eat it. He set the tray with the leftovers out in the hall, then crawled between the sheets. He was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.
Beth’s first full day at the cabin with Ryal had gone much better than expected. After their mutual agreement to let go of the past, the day had moved smoothly. They made sandwiches at noon, and for lack of anything better to do afterward, Ryal took her for a walk through the woods where h
e and his siblings had played when they were young.
“See that stand of young pines?” Ryal said.
“Yes.”
“There’s a cave behind it. James, Quinn and I used to hide in there, and then jump out and scare the girls when they came looking for us.”
“I imagine the three of you were little terrors,” Beth said.
“We had our moments, for sure. Wanna see inside?”
“Do you have a flashlight with you?”
“No.”
Beth arched an eyebrow. “Then, no, thank you. There could be anything from a bear to a panther to a nest of snakes in there, and I’ve had all the excitement I can take this month.”
Although he stood his ground, he had the strongest urge to pull her into his arms and kiss that smirk right off her face.
He grinned. “It was worth a try.”
Beth snorted lightly. “You didn’t seriously think I would fall for that, did you? I know you, remember?”
Ryal stilled. “I know you, too.” It was the tone of his voice that made Beth glance up. The look on his face stopped the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. All of a sudden the mood had gone from light to dark. She panicked, then wondered why was she afraid to see where this led. This was Ryal—her first love. They’d been naked in each other’s arms so many times during the year they’d had together that there shouldn’t have been a doubt in her mind about what he was thinking.
But there were those damned ten years that had come and gone with nothing but hard feelings and regret between them. She didn’t want pity sex. She didn’t want hit-and-run sex, either. Truth was, she didn’t know what she wanted from Ryal Walker, and until she did, she wasn’t falling for that look again.
“Ryal?”
“What?”
“We’re not going there, are we?”
The heat in Ryal’s belly was already cooling. He’d seen the uncertainty on her face, and until he knew if there was going to be a future for them, pushing boundaries was the last thing he wanted. “I don’t think we should. Do you?”
“No. Not yet. Not until—”
He put a finger over the curve of her lips, sealing whatever she’d been going to say inside.