Not caring that it was rude, he let his eyes travel over her body. Tall and thin, she was cover-girl beautiful. The few times he’d seen her, she’d been perfectly coifed and her clothes impeccable. Now her shoulder-length hair looked a mess. The curls were tangled as if she had run her fingers through them over and over. The scarf that had held her locks away from her face was edging toward the back of her head. Her clothes were wrinkled, as if she’d slept in them. There was a frantic expression on her face, and she looked about ready to jump out of her skin.
Could someone really be trying to kill her? And if that was true, what did it have to do with him? “What’s going on?”
Camille jumped, and he realized he’d yelled his question. Her chest rose and fell as she inhaled deeply. She lifted a shaky hand and ran it through her hair, then adjusted her scarf. The smile she gave him was so forced he wondered why she bothered. “It’s a long story.”
“Just cut to the chase. I don’t have time to waste with meaningless details. And if the situation is as dire as you claim, you don’t either.”
“Right.” She compressed her lips, then looked him dead in the eyes. “I told you. Someone is trying to kill me.”
“But why come here? As I recall they have police in Chicago.”
“New York City. I moved to New York eight months ago to start a new job.”
“Okay. Not that it makes a difference. They have police there, too.”
“I can’t go to them. I don’t know who I can trust. I know there’s at least one person in the government involved. Maybe the police are, too. I just can’t risk it.”
Even without the details, this story was too convoluted to hear all the way through while standing in the hallway, not to mention that she was too edgy for his liking and he needed some space from her. So he gestured for her to proceed into his living room.
Her eyes widened in surprise before she let out a breath of what was clearly relief and stumbled ahead of him. She looked around uncertainly before he nodded and pointed toward the chairs before the unlit fireplace. He and Jeanette had spent many winter evenings sitting before a roaring fire. He hadn’t lit it once since her death. He’d avoided this room, coming in only to clean on rare occasions because the memories were unbearable. Still he’d rather live with the discomfort than let Camille intrude farther into his home.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked automatically, then wanted to bite his tongue. This wasn’t a social call. And he definitely didn’t want to prolong her stay.
“No thanks,” she said and sank into a chair. The dog immediately put his head on her lap.
“Shadow, heel.”
Shadow whined, then raced from the room. A minute later he returned carrying a chew toy that he dropped at Jericho’s feet. Jericho ignored the rubber bone and walked past what Jeanette had referred to as his chair, choosing instead to lean against the fireplace mantel.
“I work for a financial institution. An investment banking firm. I’m very good at what I do.”
He nodded and gestured for her to get on with her story. He didn’t have all night to listen to her.
“A few months ago I was working on one of my boss’s accounts and I noticed something was off with the numbers. He was out of the office and I was answering a client’s questions. Anyway, the numbers weren’t adding up. I did a little digging and discovered that one of the vice presidents was massaging the numbers. He was juggling accounts in a way that’s illegal. Money would appear and disappear. I knew something was fishy. I should have just quit, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye. I dug a little deeper and discovered he was laundering money. I reported it to the government. The FBI agent I was working with needed more information to open a case, so I kept looking until I found it.”
She wrung her hands and looked around the room. He had a suspicion she wasn’t seeing the furniture Jeanette had so lovingly chosen, or the spectacular artwork she had purchased. No, the faraway look in her eyes let him know she was seeing something else entirely.
“Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to a meeting. I needed a pen, so I stepped into the supply closet to grab one. I overheard my boss talking with someone and heard my name. He told them to kill me and make it look like an accident.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I waited until they were gone and got out of there. I knew I couldn’t go home.”
“Are you sure about what you heard? This sounds a little far-fetched to me.”
“I know what I heard.”
“Your imagination—”
“I’m not imagining anything.” Her voice rose and her eyes flashed. “I know what I heard. I know they want to kill me. If I die, the case dies with me.”
He closed his eyes. She could be lying, but he couldn’t imagine why she would bother. And she really did seem scared. Nobody could be that good an actress. But then, she had pretended to be Jeanette’s friend, so maybe she did possess the skill. Still, he couldn’t figure out why she would show up out of the blue. She didn’t stand to gain anything by coming to him.
“I’m sorry for bringing trouble to your door, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t go to my parents’ home. That’s the first place they’ll look. Same with Rodney and my friends. No one in New York knows a thing about you, so they won’t look here.”
“What about that agent you mentioned? The guy you told about this.”
“I called his office. They told me he’d been in a car accident. That’s pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”
“People have accidents all the time, Camille.” Still a sense of unease crept up his spine, which was a shock in itself, given the fact that he hadn’t felt anything since Jeanette’s death. Jericho paced the room for several minutes, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. It was just crazy enough to be true. She could be in danger.
But so what? She wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his friend. Truth was, he’d categorize her as an enemy if he’d bothered to think of her, which he hadn’t. Still...
“We haven’t spoken in five years. You and your family disowned Jeanette simply because she fell in love with me. And now you expect me to step in and save you?”
Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to her chest. After a few seconds she nodded, squared her shoulders, grabbed her purse and stood. “I understand. Sorry for bothering you.” She headed for the door.
He should let her go. After the way she had treated Jeanette it was no more than she deserved. He was under no obligation to help her. Surely there had to be someone else she could turn to. Except...she had come to him. Despite how much he detested her, he knew Jeanette had loved her like a sister. She’d loved the entire Parker family. And at one time they’d loved her. Jeanette had never given up hope that one day they would reconcile and become friends again.
Jeanette and Camille had grown up together. When Jeanette’s parents were killed in a plane crash when she was seventeen, the Parkers had taken her in. So no matter how much he loathed Camille, even if he would have been happy to never see her again in this life or the next, he would help her because her family had helped Jeanette.
“Wait.”
She turned and looked at him. If he’d seen even a hint of triumph in her expression he would have kicked her out without the slightest remorse. Instead her hazel eyes revealed trepidation and a sliver of hope. He knew then that allowing her to stay was the right thing to do. He could never send a woman into danger, no matter how much he hated her. If there was a way he could keep her safe, he had to do it.
“You can stay.”
Her knees wobbled, and she reached for the door. Unfortunately, she was too far away to grab it. He rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed, sweeping her into his arms. Her gentle scent wafted in the air and wrapped around him. Some random part of his brain noticed how well she fit in his arms, but he quickly banished the unwelcome thought.
“I’m okay. I can walk,” she said in a small voice that belied her words. “It was just a little weakness, you know, from all the nerves. I’ve been so scared.”
He ignored her protests and kept her in his arms until he reached the sofa, where he gently eased her onto the cushions. “When was the last time you ate?”
Her brow wrinkled, and she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure.”
No doubt she was running on adrenaline coupled with a good dose of fear. Now that she was safe, her strength was gone. “Here’s an easier question. When was the last time you slept?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s easier. I overheard the conversation around two yesterday afternoon. I freaked and rushed around the city in a panic for a couple of hours. I actually started toward Maine before thinking of coming here. I checked into a fleabag hotel in Virginia around two in the morning, but to be honest I didn’t sleep very well.”
He stood, needing to put some distance between them. “I’ll heat some soup. Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the shed so it’ll be out of sight. I don’t think anyone will look for you here, but better safe than sorry.”
She grabbed his arm, and unwanted warmth shot through his body.
“Thanks, Jericho.” Her voice was small but earnest. “You’re saving my life.”
Uncomfortable with her thanks and even more uncomfortable with the way his body responded to the feel of her hand on his forearm, he snapped, determined to set her straight so she didn’t get the wrong idea about his motives. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m repaying a debt.”
“What debt?”
“Your parents helped Jeanette after her parents died and she had nowhere to go. So I’m helping you. When this is over we’ll be even and I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again.”
Telling himself it couldn’t possibly be pain he saw on her face, he stalked to the kitchen to warm up some soup. The sooner he got her fed and safely in the guest room, the better off he’d be. But somehow he had the feeling getting her out of his mind wasn’t going to be as easy as getting her out of his sight tonight.
Copyright © 2017 by Kathleen Gregory
ISBN-13: 9781488093364
Claiming the Captain’s Baby
Copyright © 2017 by Rochelle Alers
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