"Perhaps I'd better get you to your hotel."
Keelin sighed and the sound was a weary one. "I could use some sleep."
"And maybe you'll dream again."
"I cannot force it," she warned him.
"I'll take my chances."
Including the opportunity to talk further with this mysterious woman. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to make members of the opposite sex open up to him.
Tyler determined that whatever her game, Keelin McKenna would be no exception.
ON THE SHORT RIDE HOME, KEELIN couldn't rid herself of the bitter aftertaste Tyler Leighton provoked. He'd brought up all the old insecurities. The feeling of helplessness. Of being thought a liar or a fool. She couldn't blame him, she supposed, and yet it was difficult to be generous when it was his daughter she was trying to help.
If only she could have done this alone.
The Hotel Clareton, tucked on a side street of the Gold Coast, blended perfectly with other limestone and brownstone buildings surrounding it. Elegant yet understated, the modest establishment offered all the amenities of a larger hotel with even more personal service.
Swinging open the Jaguar's passenger door, the liveried doorman said, "Miss McKenna, I trust you're having a good evening."
Keelin forced a smile and let the polite inquiry hang.
"Take care of the car," Tyler said, handing the man a large bill.
"Certainly." The doorman motioned for a younger uniformed man to come forward and move the Jaguar.
In a low voice, Keelin said, "No reason you need to see me to my door."
When Tyler insisted, "Of course there is," she had the distinct feeling that he meant to do more than escort her to her suite and leave. Not wanting to argue the point before the hotel's employees, she spun on her heel and through the hotel's entry.
Tyler followed her inside, past a lobby decorated in champagne and gold with touches of palest pink. Her suite was decorated in similar fashion, the sofa and two chairs in her sitting room identical to those in the lobby. The walls were a subdued pink with a gold sheen, warming the flawlessly appointed setting. And the coffee table held a spray of matching pink tiger lilies as did the chest in the bedroom. When he stepped inside, she noted Tyler's raised eyebrows and assumed he was calculating the expense.
Trying to be subtle, she said, "I really am very tired."
"I imagine you are," he said, continuing to wander through her temporary living quarters.
All right, so she had to be more direct. "I'm trying to end the evening."
"Consider it ended." He dropped onto the sofa.
Keelin shut the door so their words wouldn't echo down the hall. "Not with you here."
While she was willing to put up with the man for his child's sake, she wouldn't allow him to get too close for her own. He kept prying under her skin, poking and prodding at her innermost being. Knowing he had secrets of his own, Keelin suspected he was exactly the type of man who could get what he wanted from her if he kept at it.
The type of man she made a point of avoiding.
"I'm not going elsewhere," he stated.
Keelin feared the consequences if she didn't set boundaries. Drawing closer, she crossed her arms over her chest. "You cannot stay in my rooms."
"You certainly can't expect me to drive back to North Bluff. If you have one of your visionary dreams, it would take me better than a half hour to get back here, even in the middle of the night. Then how would we get to Cheryl in time?"
Unable to miss his sarcasm even as he made a sensible point, Keelin settled into a high-backed chair opposite him. "So what are you proposing?"
"That I spend the night on your sofa. Don't worry, I have no desire to invade your bedroom."
"That never occurred to me," she hedged, the vision clear in her mind the moment he put words to it.
"No?" His eyebrows lifted fractionally, as if he knew better. "You seem tense." He looked around the room, his gaze settling on a drink cart. "A little brandy would do us both good."
Did he hope liquor would loosen her up? Or loosen up her tongue? Keelin thought the latter. Let him try. He couldn't wring from her a truth he suspected she was hiding, not when she was innocent of any wrongdoing.
While he decanted the brandy, the red glow on her telephone finally caught her eye. Realizing a message awaited her, she picked up the receiver, read the instructions and punched in the code to retrieve it. So many technical advances in this America of her relatives...and her used to a far more simple life.
"Hey, cous, Skelly here. Call me first thing in the morning, would you? I've got some info on Tyler Leighton that I think you need to know."
A beep was followed by an electronic voice telling her she had no more messages.
What could her cousin have learned about Tyler? she wondered. Something she needed to know...And Skelly's tone had seemed a bit ominous.
She hung up just as Tyler made himself comfortable on the sofa and handed her a glass.
"Who was that?"
"My cousin. Family business."
Feeling the heat creep up her neck, Keelin cursed her inability to tell the smallest of untruths without telegraphing the fact. But if Tyler noticed the flush spreading up into her face, he didn't say a word. His expression blank – purposely so? she wondered – he seemed content in his silence until her glass was half-empty.
"So why don't you make an effort to convince me?" he finally suggested.
He didn't have to be more specific. Keelin knew he was referring to her ability. "I'm not certain that I can."
"Me, neither, but you can start with whatever you're holding back," he suggested. "The thing that makes finding Cheryl so important to you."
"I doubt anything I tell you will change your mind."
"Try me."
Tyler sounded as if he were serious. And the way he was looking at her, as if he were afraid to trust her, touched Keelin. Sensing he meant what he said, that he really wanted to be convinced, she didn't see any harm in relating the first part of the story.
"After Gran explained everything to me," she began, "I hated the fact that I was different. But I couldn't change things, couldn't run away from who I was. I felt the huge responsibility she spoke of in my heart and in my soul."
"How old were you?"
"Fifteen."
"Not much older than Cheryl. Heavy stuff for a kid..."
Keelin could almost hear him mentally adding if it's true.
"The dreams always sprang from strong emotions," she went on. "Sometimes good emotions, sometimes bad, but always very, very intense."
"And the bad ones upset you?"
Keelin nodded. "Of course, though they weren't anything of great significance until..." She took another sip of her brandy for courage. Sharing this still wasn't easy. "My closest chum was a schoolmate. Deirdre Flanagan. One night, I saw her being molested – I felt her being molested and fighting a boy we both knew. I woke up near-hysterical, made Da ring the constable. I was certain I was reporting a crime in progress." The painful memories washed over her. "When they were caught together, Deirdre told the constable that Tully O'Meara was her new boyfriend and that he hadn't done anything she hadn't wanted." She took a deep breath. "Afterward, she and my other schoolmates froze me out for telling."
"But even if you were wrong, you were trying to help her."
"And I'm not certain that I wasn't correct. In my heart, I believe that Deirdre was raped...but I suppose she thought admitting to it would put more of a stigma on her than if people merely thought she fell from the virtuous path."
"So she lied to save face."
"And in so doing made me an outcast. A subject of jest. This from a good friend," Keelin said sadly, remembering as if the betrayal had just happened. "I wanted to die of embarrassment."
"Being a social outcast as a teenager would be traumatic," Tyler admitted. "But if you're saying that's your motivation, the reason that you've got to find Cheryl –"
After abruptly cutting him off, Keelin splashed back the last of her brandy and reveled in the smooth burn of the liquor as it slid down he throat. This is what she could not speak of. What she had never told anyone but her confessor. The burden she'd carried around with her. The guilt she could never wash away completely. Day after day, year after year, she'd thought it impossible to redeem herself.
But maybe she'd been wrong.
Maybe finding Cheryl Leighton before something terrible happened to the girl was her chance at last.
She set down the empty glass on the table next to her.
"I'm saying ‘tis the reason that, for many years, I chose to ignore the ability I inherited from my grandmother. And there were terrible consequences to be paid." An image of Galvin Daley's body caught in the shallows of Lough Danaan danced in her head. Her eyes stung with the vision that haunted her. "I can not let that happen again."
"So exactly what was it that happened?"
"That's all I'll be telling you," Keelin insisted, bouncing up from her chair, head down so he wouldn't see the tears trembling on her lids.
Tyler was equally quick. Before she could get around him, he'd blocked her path, and his hands were encasing her arms again. "Tell me."
"No!" Her refusal was a ragged cry.
"I think you need to talk about it."
Slowly, Keelin raised her head, forced herself to look at Tyler. Her pulse surged. What she saw etched in his features startled her. Empathy. Concern. For her?
But it couldn't be.
"What do you care about my needs?" she asked softly, aware of his fingers burning into the flesh of her arms. "You think I'm a fraud. That I am out to trick you of your precious money. Not everyone is motivated by greed."
The sensation spread, making her want to move closer, to feel those arms around her. She needed succor, and yet she could not ask for it, because she could not be totally honest.
"Experience tells me different."
"I live a comfortable life and that's enough for me. Can you say the same?" With that she shrugged free and tore into her bedroom. "You can see yourself out."
Keelin slammed the bedroom door and set the lock, then threw herself across the four-poster bed. She fisted the pink satin quilt and squeezed. Willed herself not to cry. Too many tears already. Her heart was hammering in her breast so hard she thought she might be sick.
She hadn't meant to defend herself. But that's what she had done, had nearly pleaded for Tyler's trust. Why? He didn't have to trust her. He only had to go along with her. She knew that. And also knew she wanted more.
This made no sense, this connection she'd felt from the moment he'd faced her in his offices, this charged undercurrent between them that swayed and dipped and suddenly rushed over her with an intensity that frightened her. Simply stated, Tyler Leighton made her uncomfortable.
He was too complex, too powerful.
And something inside him was too dark.
She should have backed off the moment she sensed the danger, and yet, instead, she came closer like moth to flame. Despite his distrust of everything she stood for, she was drawn to him. As he was to her, she realized.
What was wrong with her? Keelin wondered. Why had she suddenly lost her good sense? She'd spent her adulthood on guard. Setting boundaries. Maintaining distances. Keeping herself safe.
She could continue to do so if she tried, Keelin assured herself. If only she weren't so exhausted. Lack of rest had lowered her defenses, perhaps even made her imagine untruths. She didn't have to succumb.
Not to Tyler Leighton.
All she needed to regain her normal control was a good, deep sleep...
AFTER TOSSING AND TURNING IN THE LUMPY BED for hours, she gave up on falling asleep. She was creeped out anyway after seeing the rat on the back porch when she'd set the garbage out. Faint streetlight shone in through the single window. The narrow, sparsely furnished room looked better in the near dark, she decided. Nothing like her room at home, of course, but in the circumstances, it would do.
Better than the streets.
Still, she felt spooked again. Maybe she could fall asleep on the couch watching television. She rose from the bed and crossed the room, stopping before the door when she heard raised voices on the other side.
"How long are we going to wait?"
"Until I say."
Wait for what?
She shifted from one bare foot to the other, fingered one of the charms on her bracelet. A sudden breeze from the open window crawled up her bare legs, all the way up to the hem of her T-shirt. Shivering, she pressed her ear to the door.
"You're forgetting who's in charge here."
"In charge?"
"All right. Maybe that's a little strong. But it was my idea."
"True enough. You want a medal?"
"No, I just want to write the damn ransom note and get it over with."
Ransom note?
She knew what that was. She'd watched enough television, seen enough movies. But what were they talking about? They hadn't kidnapped her or anything. She'd agreed to come with them. They’d said they would help her.
"We're not going to hurry this. I want to make him sweat first. Let him know what it's like to have someone else on top for once."
"You wanna be on top?" The other voice changed, became low and husky. "C'mere. I'll let you be on top."
Feminine laughter shot a chill up her spine and she backed away from the door.
She'd been fooled. They weren't doing this for her like they said. They wanted money. They were using her. They'd lied!
Did all adults lie?
Without thinking it out, she slid into her jeans, grabbed her hi-tops and backpack. Ignoring the grunts and whispers from the other room, she tiptoed to the door, boldly shot a hand out, slipped her fingers around the knob and turned.
Nothing happened.
Oh, God...locked in.
Her pulse thrummed and her heart smashed against her ribs. She flitted to the open window and peered out desperately, even knowing what she would see: a three story drop to the ground. She'd kill herself if she tried that.
Trapped! A prisoner!
She backed into a corner. Sank to the floor. Hugged her backpack and her hi-tops to her chest.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she considered this. What now? What if her father was so angry he wouldn't pay to get her back? What would they do to her then?
She couldn't panic. She had to keep her head. Hard to do when all she wanted was to cry. That and have her father holding her in his arms, telling her everything would be all right. He would forgive her if she apologized, wouldn't he? If she told him she would never run away again?
Please, Dad, please...
Brushing her fingers nervously across the charms, she knew she had to get to him. But how? They wouldn't let her go back, not if they wanted money for her.
The tears flowed down her cheeks. A lump stuck in her throat. She'd never been so afraid. Not even when the guy who'd given her a lift as far as Evanston had tried to maul her. Not even when she'd spent the rest of the night hiding beneath some bushes on the Northwestern campus.
Suddenly it occurred to her that they didn't know she knew.
That was definitely to her advantage, she decided.
She slashed at her tears, swallowed the lump.
She would have to pretend. Not let them suspect a thing. She'd gotten the lead in her class play last year, and everyone had agreed she had talent. Even Dad had said she was quite a little actress. She could do it. Pretend nothing was wrong until she figured out an escape.
She would wait for her opportunity, and then she would be out of this dump so fast they wouldn't know what happened.
Only...what then?
HER CRY JOLTED TYLER UP OFF THE SOFA in a single lunge. He got to the door even as she unlocked it and threw it open. He'd left only a single low light burning, and that across the unfamiliar room, but he could see well enough
to know her face was pale, her eyes glazed.
Spooked, he asked, "What?"
"She's in real trouble," Keelin choked out, fisting his shirtfront. "She heard them...tried to get away. But the door was locked. And the window..."
"Heard who?"
"I don't know. A man and a woman. I didn't see." Her gaze turned inward. "Scared. So scared. Walked right into it..."
Realizing Keelin was speaking as if she were the one in trouble rather than his daughter, he gave her a sharp shake to snap her back. "Scared of what?" he demanded, his voice gruff. "What did you hear them say?"
She gasped and her eyes cleared. Her long, dark lashes fluttered over her pale cheeks. She was breathing hard, as if she'd been running. Her gaze met his, and he realized she was terrified. Her flesh trembled under his hands.
"What were they talking about?" he asked again, more gently this time.
"Something about a ransom note."
Tyler's heart skipped a beat. A parent's worst nightmare. His child had been kidnapped.
Chapter Four
KEELIN SWAM UP OUT OF HER DREAMLIKE STATE to find herself pressed against Tyler's chest. He was holding her fast and she was clinging to him as if this were the most natural act in the world. She vaguely reasoned that she should be uncomfortable, should push herself away. Regain some distance and a perspective on the situation. This man didn't even trust her, for heaven's sake.
But the last thing she desired was to put any distance between them, Keelin realized.
His body heat was comforting...distracting...Her pulse surged and unexpected emotions warred through her. Forgetting his distrust, she concentrated on him. On the man in pain. She wished she could will the misery from him, absorb it into herself – unreasonably, perhaps, given his antipathy toward her – or at the very least render the anguish he was suffering impotent.
She couldn't help herself. Following her natural instincts, she slid her arms up around his neck and comforted him as best she could. He shuddered against her.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 5
