Harry began to relax, lulled by the tranquility of a lush summer night, entranced by the beautiful woman at his side. He'd never felt so connected to anyone– had never known he could experience such an intrinsic satisfaction simply by being with another person. If this—completeness . . . was what Buchanan had experienced with his mother– then he finally understood why his father had stayed through the horrible years of alcoholism. With a certainty that neither shocked nor surprised him– he knew he would do anything for Kendall. No matter what the fates held in store for them over the next several decades . . . he couldn't wait to get started on the life they would build together.
"What's happening with the acquisition? Is the deal finalized?"
"It's close." Reluctantly, he shook off the moonlight-induced lethargy and returned to reality. Back to treading on conversational landmines.
"Do we have a date for the transfer yet?"
"Not yet. Shouldn't be more than a couple weeks." Not that she would be needing it, anyway. By then, Barker would be caught. By then, the insurance carrier would pay her fire claim and the dig for Specialty would be substantially complete. She'd be back on solid financial ground. Even better– he'd discovered while sifting through her computer records that Lance had been bonded by A & R's insurance carrier. Her insurance agent deserved a bonus for keeping such close tabs on his clients. That meant Kendall could make a separate insurance claim for all the money he'd stolen from A & R.
"That's good." She exhaled a noisy sigh. "I went to the bank yesterday and took out a second mortgage on this place."
He froze, his grip tightening. "You– what?"
"I can't let the crew work without getting paid, Harry. The second mortgage gives me cash to make payroll for the next several weeks . . . just until the insurance check comes or the deal goes through."
"Kenny– why didn't you . . . say something? What if something goes wrong?"
"Then I would've lost this place eventually. If I go bankrupt, I won't be able to afford the payments." She sat up straighter in the deck chair. "You know how it is with insurance companies . . . they could jerk me around forever before they finally pay that fire claim."
"Babe . . . we're so close. As soon as you and Lance agree to the terms . . . the deal's good to go."
"Well, why haven't I seen the papers? Hell, I'll sign them right now."
Because Charlie held the reins. Because the damn sting operation was taking too long. Exasperated, Harry tried to stem his temper. He should have known she would take matters into her own hands so no one else got hurt.
Another problem to worry about. If things didn't go according to plan, Ken could lose the home she loved. "Deborah will have the papers ready in another day or so."
"Deborah?" He felt her stiffen beside him. Dammit. Would he ever learn to think before speaking? He'd never been good at synthesizing his thoughts. Trying to withhold information from Kendall felt like lying. And lying made him act defensively.
And Kenny picked up on the vibes like a tuning fork.
"What does Deborah have to do with this? You said the offer was from an outside party."
Lying caused him to make mistakes. "Babe, someone has to handle the paperwork. Deb's firm is already on retainer to Specialty. It seemed like the logical choice."
He was painfully conscious of every sound . . . every breath Kendall drew in the lengthening silence. Her fingers lay still in his hand, but he was too afraid to squeeze them for fear she'd read something sinister in the action.
"All right. It seems a little weird." She finally broke the tension. "I mean . . . you and she- I just wondered . . . that's all." She turned to face him. "But you have to understand why I couldn't let Jimmy and Woody and the crews work for free. Even though they offered, I can't take advantage of their loyalty. Please don't ask me to do that."
Her strength of character humbled him. Harry couldn't decide which hurt worse . . . the guilt lancing his chest or the pride swelling it. "You're right, love. I'm sorry. I would never want you to trade on their friendship."
"Don't worry about the mortgage. As soon as the money comes in, I'll pay it off, first thing." She raised startled eyes to his when he leaned over to brush her lips. Harry kept it light, careful not to pour the relief flooding him into the kiss. Her faith in him was as steady as her love. He'd known if he were lucky enough to win her, the amazing gift of her love would be given freely. The full force of her loyalty would be thrown behind him, no holds barred. Because once she put her mind to it, Kendall didn't do anything halfway.
He vowed to talk with Charlie again in the morning. There had to be a way to accelerate his investigation because he couldn't last much longer. He wanted his freedom back– to be as honest and trustworthy with Kendall as she was with him.
***
"What do you mean . . . speed it up? Maybe we could just tell Barker to take another whack at Kendall so we can catch him in the act."
"Seriously– you'd say that to me?" Harry resisted the urge to rip his cousin's head off. He didn't want to imagine Ken getting hurt, never mind joke about it. "Charlie . . . shut up and listen."
He set his coffee cup down with a clang. "What?"
"What if Barker thought he'd won?"
"What d'ya mean?"
"What if he thought Kendall was out of the picture?"
"Like dead?" The cop shook his head impatiently. "We shoulda thought of that yesterday before she left the hospital."
Harry suppressed a shiver of dread. "No– not dead. Stop talking like that. I'm thinking about the fire." Kenny's words replayed in his head. Words that had given him the seed of an idea. "How can Floyd arrest me? I've got you for an alibi, remember?"
What would've happened if he hadn't confirmed her story? It would have been Kendall's word against Barker's. He suspected it wouldn't have taken much to convince Floyd of Kendall's obvious motive– her business was in trouble. Everyone knew it. He lifted his gaze to Charlie, the wheels already turning.
"What if the fire marshal had reason to believe she started the fire? If Ken was arrested, it would sure as hell seem real to Barker. And it would keep her out of reach until we catch the bastard."
"Jeez. . . I don't know. She'd be pretty ticked off."
"But she'd be safe," Harry countered.
Charlie's forehead creased in thought. "Barker might buy it. You could play it like you wanted A & R for yourself– real cheap. Might make him think you were on his side."
Harry's betrayal would telegraph a clear signal to Barker he was willing to negotiate. His heart began to race at the possibility. She'd be safely tucked away until the whole thing was over. He wouldn't have to worry about her protection.
"You want me to lock up your girlfriend? In a real jail?"
He shook his head in disgust. "You must have somewhere you can park her that would be comfortable?"
Charlie's expression of disbelief slowly faded. In its place, a slow grin settled over his features. "Man, I wouldn't wanna be you when this is over. She'll beat the hell out of you."
"If she ever found out. On the other hand," Harry argued, "if she knew all the facts, she might have agreed to protection in the first place." But that wouldn't happen because Kendall didn't realize the danger she was in. Judging by her reaction last night, she wouldn't have believed it anyway.
Locking up Ken would be a definite setback to their relationship. The fragile trust he'd worked so hard to build would come crashing down if she discovered his role in the plan. But she loved him. Saying the words had made it official. Her words meant everything, because Kendall hadn't made the admission lightly. He could only pray she wouldn't want to take them back.
They mulled over the plan for several minutes, mentally throwing darts to find the weak spots. No matter how he played it, Ken would be seriously ticked at him. But the trade-off was her safety. No one could hurt her in a jail cell. Anger he could handle. Anger could be soothed and stroked away. It was the sting of betrayal that had him second-gue
ssing. She would be devastated. It was the part Harry couldn't bear to think about. Her heart had been trampled on enough to last a lifetime.
"Maybe we should scrap this idea."
"Nah. . . let's do it." His cousin made the decision for him. "I'll get the paperwork going."
"Can you do that? Arrange a fake arrest?"
Charlie snorted in disbelief. "You really are clueless."
"You'd have to make it look believable . . . maybe at the job site?"
"Believe me. . . Barker will buy it. Hell– everyone on that site will buy it." He scratched his head. "From what I've seen, she doesn't strike me as the type of woman who'll go quietly."
Harry winced. She'd be kicking and screaming. "Make sure you warn the arresting officer."
"Warn him?" His eyes grew wary. "She's not registered for a firearm. I already checked."
"No. . . worse. Those boots she wears are steel-toed."
Charlie winced. "She'll be aiming for his jewels."
"Forget the vest . . . your guy better wear a bullet-proof cup."
***
"Harrison . . . they've locked me up in jail!"
Holding the phone away from his ear, he nodded at Jimmy. The old man winced, scratching his salt and pepper crew cut when Kendall began shouting again. "Babe, tell me where you are. . . I'm on my way," Harry lied.
"You sure those boys know what they're doin', Traynor?" Jimmy squinted in the glare of the late day sun. "Kenny ain't the most forgiving soul I've ever met."
Releasing a deep breath, he nodded, praying everything would go like clockwork. "I hope so."
Blocking one ear as Woody fired up the end loader, he quickly dialed Deborah's office. He needed the fake transfer papers . . . today.
"Deborah Lawrence, please." Frowning when the line filled with static, Harry impatiently strode away, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the belching earthmovers.
"Deb? Can you hear me?" He winced over the spotty reception. "Kendall's at the courthouse. Do you have the papers ready?" Dammit, why did the line have to give him trouble now? "Deb? You there?"
"What do you mean 'her office just called'? Who called you?" Harry groped to find the meaning in her long-winded explanation. Another clear difference from Kendall, he realized. Deb had never been able to complete a thought in under a thousand words. Catching only every fifth word wasn't helping. He shook his head when he finally caught a full sentence.
"No– I need the papers– not Kendall. She's already at the courthouse-"
Despite the buzz of activity going on at the site, despite the heated conversations taking place over a set of blueprints more than fifty yards away, several heads raised to stare at him curiously when he shouted in frustration.
His cell phone had gone completely dead.
***
Kendall's heart was still racing thirty minutes later. Traynor would move heaven and earth to get her out, she reminded herself. But, Good Lord– she was in jail!
An actual cell . . . and it wasn't like anything she'd ever imagined. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she glanced up to take a good look around. Come to think of it . . . the room didn't look anything like the jail cells on TV. It reminded her more of a cheap motel room . . . without windows. Except for the really, really small one on the far wall. Kendall scaled the wall with her eyes. The window was up near the ceiling. To see outside, she'd have to climb on the bed.
And that was another thing– she had a real bed. Shouldn't it be a cot? Rising to her feet, she rubbed her aching ribcage. And found her first smile. She might be sore, but Officer TightAss was likely hurting worse. It had taken two of them to wrestle her into the squad car. Her smile evaporated, replaced by a scowl. When she got out of this place, she was going to kill Floyd. How dare he have her locked up? Without any proof she'd started the fire. Without conducting a damn investigation? Hell– if it hadn't been happening to her, she would have laughed. The situation was like something out of a sitcom.
Only it was real. She took a few steps across the carpeted room. Kendall Adams was in a real jail cell– albeit a clean, carpeted cell. She stuck her head around the corner and flicked the light switch. The grinding noise of the fan made her jump. A jail cell with a private bath and shower? What the hell-
Crossing the room in three steps, she climbed on the narrow bed and tried to peer out the tiny window. Below her a parking lot stretched across the remaining acre of land. Several cruisers were parked there. Her fingers still clutching the dusty window sill, she turned at the sound of a key scraping.
"How're ya doin'? Can I getcha anything?"
Still standing on the bed, she glared at the officer perched in the doorway. "Yeah. I want to call my lawyer."
"Can't do that, hon." Laughing, he shook his head. "How about something to eat?"
Hands on her hips, she stepped down from the bed. "I was never read my rights by the arresting officer."
He had the gall to chuckle. "I don't think Stanley was capable of speech after you got through with him."
"Who's Stanley?" Taking a step closer to the irritating cop, she was surprised when he retreated, hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it in her face.
"Officer Dillwyn– the one you kneed in the groin? A smirk creased his doughy face. "We were warned about you," he added disapprovingly.
"Who? That bastard Floyd?" Blood pressure spiking, heat swept over her. "You call that an investigation? Why the hell would I burn-"
" No sense gettin' all worked up," he interrupted. "You're gonna be here a while."
"I've never even had a damn speeding ticket before. I want to call my lawyer." It was ironic the first name popping into her head was Deborah– Harry's Deborah. But what was her last name? And where the hell was Harry for that matter? It felt like she'd been locked up for an eternity. Flicking a glance at her watch, she sighed. Only two hours had elapsed since she'd arrived.
The officer glanced over his shoulder before retreating, closing the door with a sharp click. Kendall moved to the door and pressed her ear against it. She tried the knob half-heartedly, knowing it was locked, but testing it anyway. Murmured voices drifted through the wooden door, and she strained to make out their words.
A minute later she jumped when the door jerked open without warning. "You-" He pointed a beefy finger in her direction. "Someone's here to see ya. I'm taking you down the hall." He eyed her dubiously. "Do I gotta cuff you . . . or will you go nice and lady-like?"
With all her heart, Ken wished she could remove his condescending smile. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, forcing a casual stance. He outweighed her by an easy hundred pounds. It would be like taking on Woody the Redwood and expecting to win. "I don't know about ladylike . . . but I'll go quietly."
***
Curiosity won out over defiance as they traveled the tiled, windowless hallway. Kendall scanned the frosted glass in the doors they passed, searching for a clue to her whereabouts. There'd been a few human-sized shadows looming behind several of the doors. The distant sound of phones ringing . . . of keyboards clicking melded together with the faint scent of stale coffee. She must be at the police station.
But she hadn't been fingerprinted . . . hadn't been checked in. Again– she had nothing but cop shows to compare her experience to. And this was nothing like television. She'd been hustled into the building through a back entrance and taken straight to the motel/jail room she'd just left.
"Here's where we part ways." The officer stopped before another frosted glass door. Fingering his key ring, he found the one he was searching for and unlocked it. "After you."
She passed him silently, entering a sparsely furnished conference room, again with no windows to the outside world. How could anyone work in a place like this? Looking completely out of her element, a well-dressed woman was seated at the scarred oak table. Even Kendall, whose fashion sense started and ended with jeans, estimated the woman's suit cost more than her entire wardrobe.
Her heart began tr
ipping once again. Dear God. What had she gotten herself into this time? Warily, she approached the beautiful woman, conscious of her flawless manicure tapping the scuffed wood under her fingertips.
"Kendall Adams?" She rose to her feet, the charcoal suit moving effortlessly with her.
"Yes?" Ken tried to remember whether her hands were clean. The cops had yanked her from the site trailer even as she fought to leave a list of instructions for Claire. At least her assistant had been unflappable. Well– except for her mouth hanging open as her boss swung wildly between two police officers. But she'd reassured Kendall she'd follow up with Harry and Jimmy.
"I'm Deborah Lawrence. Your office said I could find you here. I'm a friend of Harrison."
"You're D-Deborah? You're his attorney." She swayed on legs that had gone liquid with relief. She flopped into a chair before they collapsed underneath her. Bless his heart, Harrison had saved her. He'd sent his beautiful former girlfriend to bust her out of this stinking jail. "Thank God. I thought you'd never get here."'
Frowning slightly, she shook Ken's outstretched hand. "That's odd. . . Harrison only called me an hour ago. Had I known you needed the papers sooner. . . I could have couriered them. But Harrison has been going back and forth so much with changes. I thought we'd never get it settled."
"The papers. . ." She wrinkled her nose in confusion. The papers? It suddenly dawned on her that she was referring to the acquisition. "Oh . . . that. No– I'm afraid that's not what he called you about today."
"But I just spoke with him. He said you were at the courthouse." Her perfectly glossed lips pursed delicately. Without looking over her shoulder, Kendall knew Officer Pudge had been completely captivated.
The courthouse. "I knew this wasn't the police station," she muttered. "I do need the papers, Miss Lawrence. It's just that I need bailing out even more." She dragged the chair close enough to lean on the table, disregarding the stunned expression on her attorney's face. "I've been arrested– that's why I need your help."
Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) Page 22
