Redemption (Fateful Justice Book 2)

by Sara Vinduska

  “I know,” Lash nearly shouted.

  Ward crossed his arms. “Calm down. We can get someone here to do the DNA test. Now tell me what happened.”

  “We met in a bar in Wyoming, Andy was with me, he and I got into a fight, and I took her home.”

  “Ever see her again?”

  Lash shook his head. “Ward, I didn’t even know her name. I was so drunk and high on painkillers I don’t remember if the sex was good, much less if we used protection.”

  Ward genuinely felt bad for the guy. “We’ll figure this out,” he said.

  Lash shrugged. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He walked out without a word to the others.

  He was sitting on his bed an hour later flipping through the TV channels without really seeing what was on when there was a soft knock on his door.

  He hauled himself to his feet, looked out the peephole, took a deep breath, and stepped aside to let Lauren in.

  “I thought you might want some company,” she said, sitting down on the couch.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “I’m sure you deal with rumors worse than this all the time.”

  “But this one may be true,” Lash said. He didn’t want her here, not now. All thoughts of a normal relationship with her had evaporated with one phone call, bringing the reality of how fucked up his life was crashing down on him.

  “Does that bother you?” she asked.

  Lash stood directly in front of her. “Does the possibility that I have a nearly two year old son with a woman I don’t even remember bother me? Of course it fucking bothers me!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop and think. He was furious. And humiliated.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, her gaze steady on his.

  His eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t want to talk about it, so stop treating me like one of your goddamn patients.”

  Lauren couldn’t hide the hurt his comment inflicted. Lash watched the emotions flicker across her face.

  She stood, pushed her way past him towards the door, then came back to stand in front of him, pointed a finger at his chest. “I wasn’t trying to be a shrink. I was trying to be a friend.”

  “Do you make it a habit of sleeping with all your friends?” He regretted the words the instant he said them, but he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the anger, couldn’t escape the fact that she was better off without him in her life.

  Lauren just stood calmly looking at him as he stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring down at her.

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t even know why you’re here with me. About the only thing I’m good for is a quick fling.”

  “Is that really how you feel?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

  “Of course it does,” she said.

  “No, Lauren, it doesn’t. Don’t you get it now? Don’t you realize what life would be like with me? There are constantly rumors on TV, on the internet, in magazines. Some are downright vicious and outlandish, and some have a grain of truth.”

  Lauren pushed her hair back. “I don’t read the tabloids.”

  “But you see them at news stands, in stores, hell, you probably have them on the coffee table in your waiting room.” He paused. “It’s only a matter of time before your association with me is known, then your face will be plastered all over them, too.”

  “My association with you? Is that what you’re calling it now?” She shook her head, “I know I’m just here to have a fling with a famous movie star, heaven forbid I should actually feel something for you.”

  “I just want you to think about what you’d be getting yourself into.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she answered coldly.

  Lash couldn’t think of the right thing to say, so he said nothing, just watched her walk out the door. He stood staring at the closed door until his eyes found the open bottle of whiskey on the counter. He shook his head. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

  He retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door and turning the TV back on. Why the hell did this have to happen now? Why did she have to happen now?

  He watched the images flicker across the screen. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, all he could think about was Lauren and what an idiot he was. No. Not an idiot. A fucking asshole.

  Andy had been right. Justine had taught him so much about love, about life, but he was still afraid to open his heart again. He’d gotten good at deluding himself that it was easier to go through life alone than risk that kind of agony again. He could see that his feelings for Lauren weren’t going away and if he was honest with himself, he knew he didn’t want them to. Not when he’d finally realized he loved her. He thought of the cruel words he’d said to her, felt a wave of fear sweep through his body. What have I just done?

  He’d tried his damndest to ruin things with Justine, too. Now here he was doing the same thing all over again. Was he trying to protect the women he cared about from him, or was he trying to protect himself from getting too close to them?

  The bedside clock read midnight. He dialed Lauren’s room anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as she answered.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Lauren, that was a really dark time in my life. I don’t like thinking about it and it seems like every time I turn around lately, the past is there to haunt me and I guess I’m not dealing with things as well as I thought I was.”

  He sat, rubbing his forehead as the silence stretched on. “Come on Lauren, Congress doesn’t take this long to answer.”

  “Lash,” she said finally, “If you want to push me away, make sure you’re doing it because that’s what you really want to do. I’m a big girl, I can take it. But if you’re doing it because you’re afraid of how I’ll react to something in your past, or because you don’t think I can handle some stupid tabloid article, then you don’t really know me at all.”

  “I don’t want to push you away.”

  “Good, then I’ll see you tomorrow. Now, get some sleep.”

  “Goodnight,” he said, putting the phone down knowing he’d be able to sleep now that some of the fear had left him and he felt like he could breathe again. The decision had been made. He wanted her, God did he want her with his body and heart, and he had no intention of letting her go now.

  Lauren was on her third cup of coffee and it was only 11 a.m. Though last night’s conversation with Lash had ended on a positive note, it had definitely left more questions than answers. She was certain that life with him would never be boring. But it would be complicated. Could she really give up her neat, orderly life to be with him?

  She opened her notebook and tried to focus. Normally, she liked being on set observing what was going on, but today’s scene was different. Today it was a love scene.

  It was like a train wreck. Lauren didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t help herself. Kay Bradford was a beautiful woman and Lash seemed to have no problem kissing her passionately. Lauren knew they were just acting out a scene and she was not a jealous person, but as they moved to the bed, Kay touching Lash’s body much as Lauren had done not so long ago, she felt the unfamiliar emotion asserting itself.

  Then the scene was over and the two actors broke apart.

  Just like that, the mood they’d created was gone. And Lash turned towards her and grinned and she was no longer confused about what was real and what wasn’t. In that moment, something unspoken passed between them, not the promise of enduring love, but the possibility of it.

  41

  Ward found Lash on the set the next afternoon. “Good news, you don’t have to take that paternity test. We sent a couple agents over to question the woman and she broke down, confessed that someone paid her to make up the story. She was never pregnant.”

  “How did they find her?” Then it hit him. “Oh shit. The Heat. They ran a story about that night, had a picture of us on the cover. Someone that works there must be connected to the ki
ller.”

  “We’re getting close to him.”

  “Not close enough,” Lash muttered.

  Ward shot him a warning glance.

  “Sorry,” Lash sighed as he paced a few steps. He stopped, ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  Ever since their awkward conversation about Lauren leaving the set, Lash had done his damndest to avoid the other man. He wanted to wait until the movie was finished, the killer was behind bars, and he and Lauren had a chance to figure out what was going on with them. But that was the coward’s way out. He was long overdue for a serious conversation with the FBI agent.

  Lauren watched Lash across the room as he paced back and forth while talking on his cell phone. He caught her eye and smiled. Damn, when he smiled like that, she felt warm all the way to her toes. It heated her entire body, but it also made her uneasy because of the depths of her feelings for him.

  Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d always come in second to the ghost of a woman who’d been Lash’s first true love. The woman who’d managed to tame one of the world’s most notorious playboys. The woman he’d been ready to marry.

  She shook her head. No. She was here. Justine was not.

  Lash hung up the phone and looked at her. He cocked his head. “You okay?” he asked.

  She forced a smile. “Fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  No point in lying. “You.”

  “I like that answer,” he said, coming closer. Then he took a step back. “Not good thoughts?”

  “Complicated thoughts.”

  Lash took her hand, led her to the couch. “Stay here,” he said.

  He returned a minute later with two glasses of red wine.

  “Tell me about it,” he said, sitting down beside her.

  She took a sip, sat the glass down on the coffee table. “When I came here to help Ward with the case, I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect you. I didn’t expect us. Or to wonder what exactly is going to happen with us. My life is pretty ordinary and boring and you, well, you’re . . .”

  “Complicated,” he answered, then took a long drink.

  Lauren sighed, reached for her wine. She regretted this whole damned line of thinking, regretted the way she was feeling, regretted the look on Lash’s face that she couldn’t read. She stood. “I should go.”

  Lash grabbed her hand. “Stay.”

  She paused. “I’m sorry for my mood tonight-”

  “No,” he cut her off. “I’m sorry. And I didn’t expect you, either.” He stood, still holding her hand. “I can’t make you any promises. I have nothing to offer but who I am right now, standing in front of you. Who the hell knows what will happen tomorrow, but right here, right now, I’m yours if you want me.”

  And didn’t that just make her heart skip a beat? And her entire insides melt. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming to her eyes. “Lash-”

  He cut her off with a kiss. “Shh.”

  Her mind stopped as his lips and hands claimed her body. And damn the consequences. Even if this man broke her heart, this moment was worth it.

  Ward looked around the room at the frustrated faces. It felt like they were so close but yet so damned far away. There was a dim light at the end of the tunnel, though.

  “We were able to trace the money The Heat paid for the story about Lash. It lead straight to none other than Officer Rorbach.”

  “Are you going to bring him in?” Hoyt asked.

  “Not yet. He’s the key to finding this guy, we’re going to watch, wait, and see.”

  Rafe grunted.

  “You got something new?” Ward asked.

  “You’ve interviewed all the crew members, right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Rafe ran a hand across his forehead. “I don’t know, it’s probably nothing.”

  “I know your background. You’ve got great instincts. Tell us.”

  “There’s a craft services girl. After Lash’s accident, I saw her on the set, she was out of breath and it looked like she had a wig on that was out of place. It could be she’s getting chemo or something. But when I tried to approach her, she bolted. She’s not that big, hard to see her as the killer.”

  “Could be she’s an accomplice. Could be nothing. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

  The conversation drifted off. “It’s late,” Ward said. “Let’s meet back up tomorrow.”

  Everyone but Lauren took the cue to leave.

  “I hadn’t thought about a woman. Is there someone else we’re overlooking? Someone trying to play out the role?” she asked.

  “A woman.” Ward tried to think of any other likely suspects. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anyone on set who would be capable of something like this.”

  “Doesn’t have to be someone on set. It could be anyone who’s read the script.” she added.

  Lauren stood, paced the room. “But it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like a woman. Too much strength would be needed. Too much raw masculine violence.”

  “Then who?” Ward asked.

  Lauren sighed. “I don’t know.”

  They lapsed into contemplative silence.

  Lauren answered the knock on the door, took the room service tray with a full pot of coffee and sat it down on the coffee table next to the empty coffee pot and the remains of sandwiches from the last one.

  Ward poured himself a fresh cup, lit a cigarette.

  “I really wish you’d give those things up,” she said on a sigh.

  “I did for a while, it didn’t take.”

  Lauren sat down on the couch next to her brother. “I worry about you, Ward, the stress you’re under, you smoke too much, don’t eat right, probably don’t get enough sleep.”

  Ward studied his sister, sprawled on the couch, glasses perched on the end of her nose, makeup off, hair pulled back, and he was filled with love. It was good to have her here, worrying about him. He smiled. “I’m fine, Lauren, really, so you can stop worrying about me and concentrate on helping me catch this killer.”

  “All right, I got it, back to work,” she said, picking up one of the stacks of paper piled in front of her.

  Three hours later, Lauren took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “There’s a connection we’re missing, something so obvious we’ve overlooked it.”

  “Ward?” she asked, when she received no response.

  She replaced her glasses and saw him slumped down in the chair, sound asleep. She covered him with a blanket, gathered up her notes, and softly closed the door behind her.

  Back in her own room, she paced, her mind refusing to shut down. Maybe from too much caffeine. Maybe because they were on to something. She sighed and spread everything out on the floor. They were close, she could feel it.

  She booted up her laptop and ordered another pot of coffee. So much for sleep.

  Lauren looked at the printed pages, the pictures, files from Ward, her handwritten notes spread around the desk. The answer was here. It had to be. She rubbed the headache forming behind her eyes, sipped more coffee.

  She was good at what she did because she listened to her gut. Yet another thing she had in common with her brother. And she knew they were close. That the answer was right there just out of reach.

  Picking up her mug of coffee, she stood and paced around the hotel room. She stared out the window at the lights of the city, turned back towards her desk.

  Her head cocked to the side. A picture half-buried under stacks of paper caught her eye. A photo of some of the actors on break. Some of the craft services people were in the background.

  She moved closer, picked up the photo. There was a woman behind the table of food. Tall, thin, long dark hair. Lauren didn’t know who she was, but something about her was very familiar. She tried to remember if she’d seen the woman working recently.

  She flipped through the
photos, the lists of workers, found what she was looking for. Alyssa Kent, age twenty-five, part time craft services worker. She dialed the number, got voicemail, left a message to call her back.

  It was probably nothing. And yet . . . She picked up one of Adam Bishop’s headshots, flipped to the bio on the back , then studied his picture again. She put the photo next to the picture of Alyssa Kent. Same eyes, same facial structure. Did Bishop have a sister? What were the odds of someone related to him working on the set?

  Was Alyssa Kent the same worker Rafe had mentioned that had a wig? She’d have to ask him in the morning.

  She started googling Adam Bishop. There were very few details online about his family or his early background. And no pictures of family members that she could find. But that didn’t mean much. A lot of people famous or otherwise had virtually no online profile.

  A few more clicks had her looking at the long list of Adam’s films. The only thing of interest was an actor who had died during the filming of Red Tide. And Adam certainly had a knowledge of sets and intimate knowledge of Redemption.

  But he couldn’t be working alone. She looked at the pictures again. She needed to get her hands on Alyssa’s schedule. She yawned. Her brain was fuzzy. Was she trying to make connections where none existed?

  She needed to talk to Ward. Her head pounded. It was three in the morning. She needed to sleep and so did he. She’d talk to him first thing in the morning.

  Adam Bishop was wide awake. He had always trusted his instincts. And right now they were telling him Lauren Calhoun was getting too close to the truth.

  It didn’t worry him. She was just another way to cause some chaos. She presented a unique opportunity to bring this to a fitting conclusion.

  42

  Lash needed to talk to Ward. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get how he felt about Lauren out in the open. It would make things go more smoothly for all of them if there were no secrets.