by Joanne Rock
* * *
An hour later, the whole family had gathered in Cody’s great room. It had cathedral ceilings and a stone fireplace that went up to the second floor, the room’s tall windows letting the morning sun in on three sides.
Brock stood at the window while his brothers spoke in low voices with Dax, the private investigator who’d taken over the legwork on the blackmail investigation for the family. Hannah had attached herself to Emma and Jillian as soon as they’d arrived, which was just as well since Brock couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her until he knew what was going on with the investigation.
She still hadn’t been honest with him. Even after the performance she’d given the night before—the insistence that she had come clean with him. Why had she even bothered when she was still withholding information?
She’d pulled on black leggings and a long gray T-shirt and tucked her hair in a ponytail before they’d left. She was sharing a cushioned ottoman with Emma near the fireplace. Madeline and Maisie put out some of the food they’d planned to serve at today’s post-wedding breakfast for out-of-towners—pastries and sweet rolls—along with coffee and fruit. Not that Brock was hungry. But the scent of cinnamon and dark roast hung in the air from the kitchen island that lined one side of the great room. His father helped himself to a plate while they waited for Scarlett and Logan, the last to arrive. As the pair walked in the door, Dax—an Ironman competitor who used his digital forensics background in his work as an investigator—strode to the middle of the room.
“Thank you all for coming.” The guy looked like he hadn’t slept. There were shadows under his eyes, and his gray T-shirt and jeans were both wrinkled. “To bring you up to speed, the police arrested Emma’s mother, Jane Layton, last night for trespassing on the Black Creek Ranch property.”
Brock turned to look at Carson’s girlfriend where the stuntwoman sat beside Hannah. Hannah squeezed Emma’s hand while Carson stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Judging by her calm expression, Emma already knew about her mother’s arrest. And now that Brock’s memory had returned, he recalled meeting her, as well as her announcement that she feared her mother was the blackmailer. He had no idea why she believed that, however. He’d left his father’s house early that night, unable to make sense of anything with his amnesia.
The investigator flipped pages in a notepad, his eyes scanning the small pages as he continued. “Jane is being held in custody as a person of interest in the blackmail case, and I’m close to having some additional evidence to share with police. But before I delve into that, Paige and Donovan have asked me to reveal a few things about Paige’s past to help orient you.”
Behind Dax, Cody was ushering his pregnant girlfriend into a chair at the kitchen counter and sliding a plate of fruit in front of her.
Seeing his brothers both so damned happy and in love only underscored the hole burning in Brock’s chest this morning.
“Eden Harris voluntarily left home at age seventeen with the help of her stepmother, Stella Ventura.” Dax nodded at Paige before turning back to the rest of the family. “Stella covered for her absence by assuring Eden’s father, Emilio, that she’d left with her mother, Barbara. Stella also helped Eden disappear by putting her in touch with someone who gave her new identification papers and Social Security number so that she could become Paige Samara.”
Brock was glad to learn of the logistics. He’d wondered how it was possible for a seventeen-year-old heiress to vanish, but clearly, his stepmother had help. His gaze drifted to Hannah, wondering if any of this was a surprise to her, or if she’d already known. Resentment simmered at the thought she may have used him to get close to his family.
Cody spoke up from his place near Jillian. “Paige has asked that we respect her privacy about why she left, and we’re going to do that. Dad’s lawyers are already working with a government agency to help her avoid any legal trouble since she used the false name and Social Security number under duress. But we thought it was important that we all understand who helped her to leave, and who was aware of her new identity, since that narrowed the field of possible blackmailers.”
Close to where he stood, Brock noticed Scarlett’s thinly veiled impatience. She shuffled from one foot to another and looked ready to speak until Logan King slid an arm around her waist. She seemed to settle down then, tucking close while the investigator took over the story.
Dax paced in front of the fireplace, his leather loafers creaking softly in the quiet as he tugged a pencil out from the wire ring of his notebook. “No one knew about Eden’s new identity but Stella and, Stella realized afterward, her maid Jane Layton, who had overheard some of what transpired the day Eden left home.”
Brock’s focus shifted to Hannah in time to see her bite her lip. Did she know something? But just then, Emma squared her shoulders and sat forward on the ottoman.
“My mother has battled bipolar disorder since I was very young,” Emma explained. “I’ve always known she had an affair with Emilio Ventura, Paige’s father, but I wasn’t aware until recently that she tried to tell Mr. Ventura that I was his daughter. That’s definitely not the case, by the way. I bear a strong resemblance to my father, who passed away a long time ago. But I think my mother might have tried to taunt Mrs. Ventura with the affair and with the idea that I could be Emilio’s biological child.”
Behind Emma, Carson shook his head. “None of that gives Jane a motive for blackmailing the McNeills, though.” He cast a thoughtful glance over toward Paige. “Unless she thought Paige would pay to keep her secret quiet?”
Paige appeared unruffled. Relaxed even. Brock wondered if having her secret finally out had given her a new sense of peace. Certainly, she seemed happier than he could ever remember seeing her.
She finally weighed into the discussion. “Carson, I’ll tell you what I already explained to Dax. I have no memory of Jane, either by sight or even by name. You have to remember, I was only a teen at the time, and I didn’t grow up in my father’s house. I simply stayed there for a few years when my mother was unwell.”
“I met him, Mom,” Scarlett blurted, straightening from her spot beside her actor boyfriend. “Your father, that is. And for what it’s worth, I think he really misses you.”
The two of them stared at one another, a silent conversation going on between them that Brock didn’t begin to understand. Frustration built inside him; his shoulders pulled tight as he ground his teeth. He was tired of waiting for answers.
“So where does that leave us? Is Jane the blackmailer or not?” He was being abrupt, maybe, but his family had been dealing with too much these last weeks. Hell, he’d been dealing with too much trying to recover from amnesia while his family publicly fell apart at the seams. “And what does Hannah have to do with any of it?”
He heard her quick intake of breath, even from the other side of the room. No doubt he was still far too in tune with her, too aware of her every move. Breaking that bond was going to hurt, but it would be critical to moving forward.
Dax gave him a level look, a hint of displeasure on his face. Perhaps Brock had upset the guy’s flow. Or maybe he’d wanted to speak to Hannah privately. But whatever it was, Dax recovered quickly enough.
“Much of what we have to tie Jane to the blackmail scheme is circumstantial, but it will be stronger once we eliminate any other possible connections between Winning the West and the Ventura family.” Dax pointed to Scarlett’s boyfriend with the chewed end of his yellow pencil. “Logan King has already spoken with me at length about his experiences with Antonio Ventura, and he has a firm alibi to clear him. The only other person with access to both the Venturas and the McNeills, as well as an interest in the movie, is Hannah Ryder.”
* * *
All eyes turned toward her.
For a moment, Hannah wondered if the investigator would have tried questioning her in front of the whole group if Brock hadn’t pr
actically encouraged him to do just that. Not that it mattered. Helping her sister had somehow connected her to a blackmail investigation, and she couldn’t impede a criminal case because of Hope’s need for privacy.
She just wished she didn’t have to speak about it in front of the whole family.
It hurt even more knowing that she was in this position because a man she’d trusted with her heart didn’t trust her at all. But if she allowed herself to think about that now, she wouldn’t be able to keep her composure through the questions. She was keeping herself together now by only sheer force of will.
“I can explain.” Hannah stood, nervous energy making her want to pace. Or fidget. Her acting training wouldn’t allow her to give in to that impulse. She understood the nuances of body language. “I was actively researching the Ventura family two months ago, and I briefly worked with a temp agency cleaning their home. I saw photos of Eden Harris and her mother in Emilio Ventura’s study, and Jane Layton made an unusual remark about them that helped me link Eden with Mrs. McNeill.”
“Why would you research the Ventura family?” Brock asked tightly. “You never mentioned that last night.”
Hannah heard the disdain in his voice. Brock thought she was deceitful. A liar. And that hurt after what they’d shared.
Swallowing back the pain, she focused on the investigator instead. “I can explain why I did that, but since my story involves someone else, someone who wouldn’t want her name mentioned, I would ask that you let me share the rest of it privately.”
She waited for Dax’s reply, prepared to answer his questions to the best of her ability. Maybe it would even be a relief to share with someone. The stress of what Hope had gone through had eaten away at both of them this year.
When the investigator nodded his approval, Brock crossed his arms over his chest.
“How convenient.”
His cold words froze her feet to the hardwood floor, preventing her from following Dax into the dining area.
Mute with hurt and an anger of her own, she stared him down in front of his family. Willing her jaw to unclench, she said, “Excuse me?”
“You don’t think I deserve to know what else you’ve been hiding from me?”
Before she could answer, Paige McNeill stood. “Brock, please. Has it ever occurred to you she might need to protect someone?”
Gratitude filled Hannah’s chest, a soothing balm, even if it would never fully ease the hurt of Brock’s mistrust. Blinking away the sudden threat of tears, Hannah looked over at Paige. Really looked at her.
And something in the set of the older woman’s chin, the tone of her voice, even the wringing of her hands, made Hannah think of her sister. It was a flash. An instinct. But in that moment, she knew without question why Eden Harris had run from the Ventura home. Why Eden had become Paige Samara McNeill and never looked back.
She’d been hurt once, too. By the same bastard who had hurt Hope.
“Thank you, Mrs. McNeill,” Hannah murmured, hurrying past them to follow the PI into the dining room on the other side of the huge foyer. At the threshold, she paused, her heart thumping. She glanced back at the room full of Brock’s family. And at Brock himself.
He stared out the front window, his expression inscrutable. He hadn’t followed her, giving her the space that his stepmother had wanted him to. Hannah understood she’d hurt him. That in protecting her sister, she’d done deep damage to her fledgling relationship with someone she really cared for.
And maybe she’d done all she could to protect Hope now. She’d protected her sister’s privacy as much as she could, even when it cost her a chance at something that could have been...so much more. Later, she would call Hope and ask for her forgiveness. Her understanding. But now, Hannah called back to the man she’d given her heart to, offering him the answers he craved. Already knowing it was too late for them.
“Brock?” She watched as his head came up. Their gazes locked, and his detached expression killed her a little inside. The hurt of what they’d lost left her breathless as she called back to him, “You’re welcome to join us.”
* * *
Maybe a better man would have simply trusted her, taking it on faith that her secrets were her own and didn’t have any bearing on their relationship.
But Brock had been burned before. Not just by his ex-girlfriend, but by Hannah herself. Just yesterday she’d admitted she’d been lying to him. How was he supposed to take today’s revelation that there were even more holes in her story? That she had some kind of connection to the Ventura family that she’d never mentioned.
So hell yes, Brock followed Hannah into the dining room, taking a seat near her as she began talking to the PI.
The story that came out made him half wish he’d never heard it. Not because the truth implicated Hannah. Far from it. His stepmother had understood the subtext of all that Hannah hadn’t said, and as Hannah spelled out Antonio Ventura’s crimes against her younger sister, the shattering facts made Brock fear what his stepmother had gone through living in the same household as Antonio.
It became all too clear that Antonio’s sister—related only through adoption—had probably been his first sexual assault victim. And over twenty-five years later, the bastard was still getting away with taking advantage of young women who didn’t have the resources or support system to take on a powerful man.
His first instinct, before Hannah had even finished giving her account, was to rally his brothers and inflict as much damage on Ventura as possible. But he knew that wasn’t the way to stop a serial predator. Furthermore, he’d implied a level of discretion and respect for Hope Ryder’s privacy by even setting foot in the room with Hannah as she spoke to the PI.
Now, like Hannah before him, he carried the weight of an ugly truth that wasn’t his to share. But he would do everything in his power to leverage his resources and influence in a way that would help convince women to come forward. Perhaps even starting with his stepmother.
But first? He needed to find a way to talk to Hannah. To make some kind of amends for his lack of trust. Judging by the way she fled the dining room as soon as the private investigator assured her he had enough information, Brock didn’t think she was going to give him that chance willingly.
Damn it.
He stood up fast, following her out into the living area. His father pointed wordlessly to the front door. And, out the huge windows, Brock could see her blond ponytail bouncing as she hurried away from the house with determined steps.
He needed to follow her. To apologize for not having faith in her. But first, he needed his whole family to understand one thing.
“Carson.” Brock slid out of his dress loafers from the wedding, and grabbed a pair of boots by the door, not much caring who they belonged to. “I know you signed a contract with that movie production company. And it’s fine if the movie films here, but not as long as Antonio Ventura is attached to the project. If he remains the director, we’re going to shut the whole thing down, whatever the cost.”
Donovan nodded tersely from his spot on the couch beside Paige, his arm tightening around his wife. “I will pay for the lawyers. Hell, I’ll finance a whole army of them if that’s what it takes.”
Brock wondered how much his father knew about the director of Winning the West. He guessed Donovan didn’t know the full story either, or Antonio would have met with a mysterious hunting accident a week ago.
“Thanks, Dad.” He spared a quick glance at Paige, and a spear of guilt cleaved him in half for all the time she’d spent leading a quiet life, out of the spotlight, when she’d been an heiress in her own right. She’d been in hiding from a monster for too long, and it was going to end now.
He stepped over to the couch long enough to lean down and press a kiss to his stepmother’s cheek. “You were right about Hannah. I love you, Mom.”
Then, turning on the heel of his borrow
ed boots, he headed out the door, determined to find Hannah—and find a way to make things right between them.
Thirteen
Hannah had ridden over to the Black Creek Ranch with Brock, so she had no choice but to walk back to her cabin.
Not that she minded. She welcomed the fresh air after the intense family meeting with the investigator and then, the more private discussion with Dax while Brock listened. Telling Hope’s story had taken a lot out of her, but she was glad to have shared the truth. Now, she planned to pack her things and fly home as soon as possible.
Her sister didn’t want her here anyhow, and she was worried about leaving Hope alone for much longer. If quitting the film ruined her career in acting, she truly didn’t care. She would rather go broke fighting a legal battle to break her contract than spend another day taking orders from her sister’s molester. Being in Wyoming this week had given her a taste for the life she’d rather be living anyhow. One that involved midnight stargazing and walks in the country. Horseback rides.
Her heart ached at the thought of that. She knew she’d never have a ride quite like the one she’d had with Brock.
“Hannah, wait.”
The voice behind her was unexpected. And feminine.
Not that she planned to see Brock before she left, but she certainly hadn’t cultivated personal ties with anyone else in his family.
Hannah shielded her eyes to see Brock’s youngest sister, Scarlett, hurrying toward her. They had spoken briefly at the wedding the day before, just enough for Hannah to learn that Scarlett was excited about her move to Los Angeles and starting her own career in acting. Hannah had invited the younger woman to stay in touch after the filming ended in case she needed any advice. They’d do a lunch date.
And while the offer had been heartfelt, Hannah didn’t think she could make small talk with her heart breaking. As Scarlett reached her side, Hannah turned to keep walking.
