"Your father had already set himself up for retirement when he was approached with the equipment scheme. So, he rewrites your contract and sends his new stepson up to Virginia to oversee the operation."
"Why? He didn't need the money."
Harrison stared at her for endless moments before finally speaking. "I don't know but he said he never wanted you to know about it."
"Because he couldn't trust me?"
"Because he knew you would never agree– because if he were ever caught, he didn't want you knowing anything about it."
She blinked back scalding tears with sheer willpower. If she let them fall, she would never stop. "So what happened with this perfect plan?"
"Lance forgot the real reason he was here. He was supposed to steal equipment . . . not drain the company of cash."
"Why did you call my father?"
"When Lance attacked you. . . I went a little crazy. I picked up the phone and . . . basically accused him of trying to kill you. I asked him what kind of father sacrificed his daughter for money."
"And?" Ken told herself she didn't want to hear the answer. Self-loathing washed over her as she acknowledged how much she needed to hear his explanation.
"He didn't know what Lance was doing. He had no idea you were in danger." Cautiously, Harry reached for her hand. "He still wanted to protect you. Your dad hung up the phone and called the police to turn himself in."
She stared at him for several seconds, her brain unable to process another thought. Her stomach churned with questions she would likely never receive answers to. She didn't know what to say to Harrison– how to process what he'd done. All she knew for sure was that she needed time. To sort everything out.
"Well . . . I guess I can read the rest in the papers tomorrow." Her voice sounded as hollow and dejected as her body felt. "You can go now." Shaking her hand free of his, she retraced her steps to the foyer, her vision blurred by unshed tears. But seeing his face one last time wouldn't have mattered. Because her heart was too sick to care anymore.
"Kenny . . . once this settles-"
"We go on as though nothing happened?" She smirked. "I don't think so."
"Kendall-" His voice was sharp. "Don't do this. I love you."
"I don't know what that means," she admitted, her voice small . . . defeated. He reached for her, his hand tentative when he laid it on her shoulder. Unable to bear the thought of his betrayal, she jerked away. "Please leave, Harrison. I'm begging you."
He flinched, compassion and sorrow in his gaze– as though he could sense her pending meltdown. "I'll go . . . but . . . this isn't how it ends, Kendall. I'm coming back."
Ken managed to hold herself together, tears streaming down her face as he reluctantly left. Whatever tiny scrap of pride she had remaining provided the strength to not break down in front of Traynor. He'd taken everything she'd had to give, leaving only the crushed, lifeless shell of her soul. He couldn't hurt her anymore. No one could hurt her anymore. When the door clicked shut, she released the cascading breath she'd been holding. But there was no relief from the pain.
Sinking to the floor, she buried her face in her hands, succumbing to the grief she'd contained for so long. The dams collapsed on endless years of emotional battering she'd taken from her out-of-reach father . . . and for the bruising her castoff heart would now endure as she faced a future without Harrison. As Lurch flopped down at her side, she let the shaking sobs overwhelm her. Because nothing mattered anymore.
***
It was funny, she thought later, how life went on . . . through disaster, through pain and even, she discovered, through disillusionment. Kendall rolled the window down, letting the breeze catch her hair as she headed for the jobsite. Harrison had vacated her life almost the same way he'd entered it . . . with a loud, violent thud– similar to a tornado swooping down, before fleeing the scene as quickly as he'd arrived. Leaving her to jumpstart her life from the shattered aftermath.
Ken ignored the irritating voice scuttling through her head– reminding her she'd ordered him to leave. But Traynor usually did whatever he wanted. Why would he have listened to her today . . . unless he'd been eager to leave.
Flicking a glance at her watch, she was floored to realize only hours had passed since he'd left. Time had ceased to matter as she'd wandered from room to room. She'd been almost grateful when the phone rang. Anything to break the shattering silence.
Clearly, it was to be a milestone day for her. Like life itself, sometimes you caught a break. As you floundered in the angry seas of despair, God sometimes offered you a lifeboat . . . a single ray of hope that tempted you to stay afloat for one more day. Claire had called, announcing A & R had finally received three badly needed checks– payments that had been delinquent over ninety days. It was too late to visit the bank today, but if she picked them up now, she could deposit them first thing in the morning. Her assistant promised to leave them on her desk before locking up for the night.
The jobsite was already deserted when she parked in the dusty, rutted parking lot. Only an hour earlier, the desolate site had been overrun with workers. But once the job shut down for the night, the scene sometimes reminded her of an abandoned western movie set. The only props missing were a few blowing tumbleweeds. The sun would be gone in under an hour. Trudging across the site, the silence was broken only by the gravel under her feet. Mentally, she took notes. With Harry out of her life, Ken needed to throw herself full force back into work.
Still numb from the events of the day, she was nearly upon the trailer before she noticed the door was wide open. Checking her watch once again, she wondered if Claire had changed her mind and waited.
"Claire? You still here?" For a change, Kendall approached the trailer cautiously, Harrison's safety lectures buzzing in the back of her brain. Too much had happened over the past several days to dismiss the possibility that something might be wrong. Though no sound emanated from the darkened trailer, she hesitated. If someone actually lurked inside, she'd be trapped.
Scrubbing at the goosebumps raising on her arms, she scowled over her sudden case of jitters. "I can't call Traynor." Jimmy. Sure, he'd be ticked off over the disruption to his evening, but his stool at the Hickory Pub would still be waiting for him when he returned. Tugging her cell phone from her belt, she punched in his number. As it rang, she took a few steps closer to the trailer. Maybe just poke her head in for a quick peek. That would save Jimmy from driving all the way back– only to rescue her from her stupid imagination.
When his voicemail picked up, she sighed. Damn. Now she'd have to leave a lame sounding message. "Pop . . . I'm at the site. It's about seven. The trailer door's wide open. I think Claire just forgot to lock it . . . I was gonna ask you to swing by and check it out with me, but since I didn't catch you. . . I'll just do it myself. Don't waste your time calling back." She was ready to disconnect when she remembered the good news. Forcing some enthusiasm into her voice, she continued. "Oh yeah. . . Claire said we finally got paid on those three old jobs. Can you believe it? I'm taking you to lunch tomorrow to celebrate. See you in the morning."
Disconnecting her phone, she'd climbed two steps when Ken realized her senses had flared to red alert. Her heart had begun pounding a drumbeat of warning– her neck prickling with an urgent alarm.
Someone was behind her.
Her only hope was surprise. Fists raised, she whirled to face her attacker. "Who are-" Her eyes widened with shock before the person at the bottom of the steps registered in her brain as friend . . . not foe. "Jesus– you scared the hell out of me."
***
"Yo– Harry– I think we have a problem."
Harry set his beer on Andrea's granite kitchen island. He had several problems right now . . . all of them revolving around the woman who'd just kicked him out of her life. "I don't think my life can get much worse at this particular moment."
Charlie tossed his car keys on the counter and stared at him quizzically. "Christ– are you drunk?"
He couldn't summon the energy to glare at his pain-in-the-ass cousin. "Not yet."
Over his shoulder, Charlie shouted for his wife. "Baby– how long has Harry been drinkin'?" He snatched the bottle from his fingers. "Snap out of it. There's a loose end."
Andrea appeared in the doorway with Mona hot on her heels. Harry had endured enough words of wisdom from his aunt over the past several hours to last a lifetime. How he'd royally screwed up . . . how he had to fight to get Kendall back. Like he didn't already know that?
"He's only had three. I hid the rest out in the garage." Andrea stood on tiptoe to kiss her husband. Harry was forced to endure watching Charlie manhandle his wife. All it did was make him more despondent. He could have had that with Kendall. That's how they would have looked after twenty years of marriage-
"Let me guess. You've already lost Barker? Has he escaped from jail?"
Charlie dragged a chair over to join him at the counter. "It's Kendall's dad. He's been singing to the feds down in Miami. I just got off the phone with them."
Great. More bad news he'd be tasked with delivering. "What now?"
"We need to talk to Kendall. ASAP."
"So, go talk to her. She made it pretty clear she doesn't want to see me for the next several centuries."
Feeling the vibration of his cell phone, Harry jerked it from his pocket. Praying for a miracle, he glanced at before swallowing a rush of disappointment. What the hell did Jimmy want?
"Yeah?" He listened to the old man for several seconds. "Pop– she called you . . . not me." He held the phone away from his ear when Jimmy started shouting. "Okay . . . okay. I'm on my way. I'll meet you there." He slid from his stool, his gaze locking with Charlie's. "Make this quick. I need to meet Jimmy out at the site. Why do you need Kendall?"
"Ken, Sr. told the feds Lance wasn't working alone up here. He had a partner. Senior didn't know about it until Lance started screwing up. Senior sent someone up here to check on Barker."
"That's not surprising. I never believed Lance had brains enough to handle an operation like this by himself. The embezzlement alone-" Harry's heart lurched into his throat, cutting off his ability to speak. His brain shook off the buzz of alcohol as the pieces fell into place with a clarity that left him reeling. He was halfway out the door before he spoke again. "Hell– I know who it is."
Chapter 15
"Claire. . . what are you doing?" Kendall's instinct was to duck, but the muzzle of the gun in her assistant's hands was trained at her chest. She wouldn't get far.
"We were so goddamned close. One more day and those contracts would've been signed. But– you couldn't let up. You and that damn Traynor. It's like you're friggin' indestructible. No matter what we did . . . that bastard would show up and ruin it."
"You? You did this? We . . . thought it was Lance." Her gut screamed 'flee' . . . but logic told her to stall for as long as humanly possible. Sweat gathering at her spine, Kendall's scattered thoughts ran the gamut. It would be dark soon. Maybe she could distract Claire . . . or wrestle the gun away. Run. Get lost in the shadows.
Or maybe it truly would be a landmark day. Her last day.
"You're not much smarter than your idiot brother." Claire smirked. "Even without him, I would've been able to bleed you dry. But this place-" She glanced around the site with an air of boredom. "This place was chump change. When I heard about the equipment gig– there's some serious money. I figured . . . what the hell?"
"You'd planned to screw over Lance, too?" More frightening than the gun she held, was the subdued evil emanating from the woman standing before her. Her heart skidded erratically at the realization Claire's anger stemmed from being stymied . . . She wouldn't be content to take the money and run. In fact . . . she would probably look forward to punishing her.
"Honey– we both know he borders on idiocy. The only thing Lance had going for him were his connections to your father. He wasn't even good in bed." She shuddered delicately. "Once he received his cut from selling this dump . . . his usefulness would have ended."
"You weren't worried my father would hunt you down?" The sheen of perspiration chilled her skin when the breeze kicked up. Fighting the tremors wanting to charge through her system, Ken groped for any way to prolong the conversation.
Claire laughed, the jarring motion making the gun waver. "I was going to hunt him down. With Moron out of the way, I could offer my far superior services. Hell, I could've tripled his operation up here. Besides being stupid, Lance was too friggin' lazy. He didn't want to work."
"I can't argue you on that point," she admitted.
Claire nodded. "In this business, you've got to be ruthless." Her gaze less disparaging, she stared at Kendall. "In the beginning, I really admired you. If we hadn't been ripping you off so well, A & R probably would've had a banner year," she acknowledged. "You work damn hard in a tough business. The guys really respect you," she said. "You weren't afraid to get your hands dirty."
"Thanks. . . I guess. I really liked you, too, Claire." If Kendall lived to talk about it, this conversation would go on record as the weirdest.
"Well– enough chitchat. I've got things to do . . . business to wrap up before I hit the road. Come on." When Claire waved the gun in her direction, she instinctively ducked. And her assistant laughed again, the sound drifting away in the growing darkness. "Hell, Kenny– I'm not gonna shoot you."
She nearly doubled over on a wave of relief. Thank God for sisterhood. She'd misjudged her. Somewhere in the dark recesses of Claire's soul, a shred of humanity remained.
"We're gonna do a little free-falling. I know how much you love swinging on those damn ropes. And this time you don't have Jimmy around to catch the frayed ones before you use them." Leveling the gun at her head, she smiled. "Get moving."
***
"Kenny . . . hang on, love."
Kendall panted with the effort it cost to keep her fingers locked around the safety fencing. "Get back, Harry. The fencing is rigged. It won't hold much . . . longer." When he ignored her order, it was raw terror that made her shout.
"Dammit, Traynor . . . get away from the edge." The plea spilled from her lips on a groan of anguish. Her arms felt on the verge of tearing free from her shoulders . . . her muscles screamed with an agony she never would have imagined possible. Her hands were raw and bleeding from the effort to hang on.
It would be a blessing. The voice in her head buzzed a little louder this time. Let go . . . let go and fall. When the perspiration dripped into her eyes . . .stinging . . . blinding, she nearly complied. Under normal circumstances, the hand swipe to her eyes was a reflex. Ken pried her fingers free and felt the fence shift overhead.
"No. . . Kenny!"
Her eyes jerked open at the tortured sound of Harrison's voice and she blinked through the pain to find his face. If she could only see his eyes . . . those beautiful, deceitful eyes. She wanted so badly to hate him. He'd betrayed her. But what did it matter now? She'd rather die loving him. "Harrison? Are you there?"
"Honey . . . don't move your hands, love. Please– don't move. Don't give up."
In the faintest corner of her mind she heard him bellow for help and wondered who could possibly be there to offer it. "Traynor . . . I'm begging you– move away from the hole. Please, Harrison. She's rigged the whole thing. Claire . . . You'll fall."
"If you move a muscle I'm jumping in there after you," he vowed.
"Where are you?" She had to see him one last time. She had to tell him what was in her heart. Nothing short of a miracle could help her now. But if she fell without telling him the truth, she'd want to die anyway.
"I'm right here, baby. If you look up you'll see me," he coached.
"My neck. . . I can't move." Everything around her was fading black save for the sparks of light at the end of a very long tunnel. Even the agonizing pain in her arms was starting to blissfully fade away. Ken concentrated on one simple movement of her shoulders. If she twisted just a little bit . . . she'd see him one last time. With
a groan of agony, she jerked her aching arms.
"Harrison." Closing her eyes, she sighed with relief.
"Open your eyes, love."
Complying, she smiled when she discovered beautiful green eyes pinned to hers. "I love you, Harry. I needed to tell you one last time-"
"Don't let go," he shouted in a voice thick with terror. "Dammit, Kenny. . . I'm ordering you– hang on."
She blew out a breath of exquisite pain as the fencing jolted her arms, sending a waterfall of liquid agony coursing through her muscles. Ignoring his tirade, she continued her one-sided conversation. "I've loved you for so damn long . . . but I didn't want to admit it. I figured you'd get tired of me."
"I'll never be tired of you."
His face swam before her eyes and she ruthlessly blinked back the tears. She wanted his face to be the last thing she saw– her very last thoughts would be of Harrison– of loving him. Of never wanting to leave him. Despite his betrayal, she still loved him. He would be the last vision imprinted in her mind when her arms betrayed her. "I'm sorry I took so long."
His eyes flared with relief and the unmistakable spark of determination. "We have a lifetime to make it right." He turned, shouting to someone over his shoulder.
"Kenny . . . please love, I know you're tired. Just another minute. Don't let go– no matter what happens."
The fence shifted again and her shrill cry of fear reverberated off the walls of the underground canyon. She felt one last jerk on her aching arms before everything shifted, rumbling and shaking as she was thrown into the cavern wall.
"I've got you, love. We won't let you fall." Harrison's hoarse voice tickled her ear. If this was the end, she would latch on to the sound.
"Traynor– you puke on me and I'll kill you."
Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) Page 24
