She moved down the hallway with light steps, trying her damndest to keep quiet. When she reached the living room, she sighed with relief. An ambient glow spilled into the room from the dim recessed lighting in the kitchen and she methodically made her way around every piece of furniture in search of anything that might help her learn more about Hugh. With his watchful eyes on her during the day, she’d barely been able to notice the types of magazines on the coffee table.
She’d kept her head down while looking around, but lifting it now to take in the room as a whole, she wondered how on earth she’d missed those. Three pictures in dark wood frames on the fireplace mantle.
The first photograph was of Hugh and another man, their arms around each other’s shoulders and huge grins on their faces. The kind of grin that made her wonder what had made them so happy that day. Her gaze traveled to the next picture, a black and white candid shot so beautiful and personal she sucked in a breath. A man—the same one in the shot with Hugh—had his hand near a woman’s ear, his fingers toying with her long hair. He was staring down at her, she was looking up at him, their faces mere inches from each other. Her palm lay flat on his chest, and Tess could feel the beating of their hearts inside her head. The look of adoration that passed between them was palpable.
She didn’t have to ask Hugh who the couple was. It had to be his brother and his wife. Something fluttered in Tess’s stomach as she wondered what it would be like to love someone that much. Because in looking at the photo, there was no doubt they’d loved with an intensity she never had. A lump lodged in her throat. She swallowed and sidestepped to the last photo.
Her legs almost gave out as she stared at an unguarded Hugh. He sat at a formal table, wearing a tuxedo, his arm bent, a hand covering the smile she knew he wore because his eyes crinkled in the corners. His attention was on his brother and sister-in-law, whose arms were intertwined, champagne flutes in their hands, grins on their faces.
Tess backed away, almost falling over the coffee table. Suddenly, she couldn’t take any more. She didn’t want to know anything more about him. Because big, bad, prideful Hugh had a soft spot whether he admitted it or not. And the very real images he kept a part of his home captured something she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl. Unconditional love.
With super speed, she searched the drawers of the hutch in the dining room, the cupboards in the kitchen, rifled through the stack of Sports Illustrated magazines. She searched the closet by the front door, eyed the hardwood floor for loose floorboards.
All of it though, she did half-ass, since she couldn’t stop thinking about Hugh and how very human he seemed. How connected. To his brother, even though he was gone.
Where’s the damn incriminating evidence? “Not here,” she whispered and padded in her bare feet to the front door. The second she stood outside, she inhaled sharply, the fresh air filling her lungs, loosening the tightness in her chest.
Without thinking, she wandered down the driveway, away from the house, away from Hugh. Chewing her bottom lip, she wrapped her arms around herself. A cool breeze carried the smell of pine trees to her nose. Her footsteps faltered and she stopped. Looked over her shoulder. So many emotions she didn’t know how to process swirled inside her. Was the right thing to do leave? Or stay? She turned her head back around and looked at the empty road in front of her.
Go. She’d walked maybe another hundred feet, though, when something weird circulated in the muscles of her legs—resistance. She stopped again and looked up. Stars dotted the black sky. Jagged branches from gigantic trees slashed through the airspace like claws about to swoop down and pick her up. A chill raced down her spine.
“You really shouldn’t walk at night without shoes on.”
Tess jumped at the woman’s voice, both feet literally coming off the ground. People didn’t sneak up on her. How the hell had this woman snuck up on her? She was losing her skills. A harrowing thought flashed through her mind. Did that mean it was time to give up eliminating?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman said, as Tess turned to find an older lady wearing a plaid robe and yellow slippers.
“Blanche?” she asked, recognizing the woman’s voice and assuming no other seventy-something neighbor would be awake at this hour of night.
“In the flesh. You must be Tess. Nice to meet you in person.” She twisted and started toward a house barely visible through the trees in the distance. “Follow me,” she called over her shoulder.
“What?” Tess asked, glancing at her feet before she scurried to catch up to Blanche.
“You can’t get far without shoes and it just so happens we’re the same size.” She picked up her pace, walking with the gait of a woman half her age.
Curiosity spurred Tess to keep up. “What makes you think I’m going somewhere? Maybe I just needed some fresh air? Ow!” she cried, something sharp digging into the flesh of her heel.
“At one in the morning when you should be fast asleep?”
Tess didn’t offer a reply.
They reached Blanche’s house, a cozy log cabin with a wraparound porch. Stairs led up to the glass front door, a motion detector lighting their way the moment they hit the first step. Large pots sat everywhere, overflowing with ivy and yellow daisies, and comfort filled Tess. But when she noticed the rocking chair sitting beside a large front window, she almost gasped. It looked exactly like the one her mother had rocked her in when she was a child. It was the only way she’d fall asleep.
“Your home is lovely,” she said, closing the front door behind her. Blanche had yet to stop her forward momentum.
“Thank you. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” She waved a hand in the air and disappeared around a corner.
Tess sat down on one of two sofas, the soft chenille fabric giving way to perfect coziness. She sank into the couch and put her feet up on the leather ottoman placed between the couches. Her eyes drifted shut, and for a few minutes she let her mind go blank. Worried she might actually fall asleep, she forced her lids open and took in the room.
A beautiful, but empty china cabinet sat off to the right. A bookcase, almost bare, decorated the left. One painting of snow-capped mountains hung on the wall. In the corner stood a small antique table with a vase of fresh flowers on top. Tess couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fresh flowers in her house.
Blanche entered the room carrying a pair of mugs. Not shoes. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said, handing one of the steaming cups to Tess.
She sat up and accepted the drink. Then groaned with pleasure when she took a whiff. “Is this Irish coffee?”
Blanche took a seat across from her, a mischievous smile tugging at her wrinkled lips. “After midnight, it’s all I serve.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Tess inhaled deeply before taking a sip.
“I’ll keep you to that.” Blanche took her own sip before getting comfortable and tilting her head. “He’s a good man, you know. Sometimes he’s rough around the edges, but that’s only because he doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
Tess shrugged. “Okay.”
“He do something to piss you off?” Blanche asked candidly.
“You could say that,” Tess answered. “He’s definitely not one for negotiation, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”
“You try asking him naked?”
Tess choked on her Irish coffee. “I beg your pardon?”
“Men can’t think straight when a woman’s naked. Something about their brain cells getting jumbled. And then their favorite word becomes ‘yes.’”
“I, uh…” Tess was at a complete loss for words. She looked into her mug, hoping the blush she felt wasn’t obvious on her face.
“You know how to play backgammon?” Blanche stood and reached for a small leather case on the bookshelf. She had it opened on the ottoman and pieces set up before Tess could answer.
“It’s been a while, but yeah.” Tess didn’t know what to make of Blanche. Or herself.
She was happy with the subject change, but even if Blanche had continued to talk about Hugh, she didn’t feel any urge to leave. The older woman gave off a wonderful air of familiarity and warmth and Tess wanted to hang around her.
Blanche drank her Irish coffee while she set up the rest of the game pieces. Tess did the same, the easy rhythm they fell into one she rarely experienced.
Hugh. I fell into an easy rhythm with him.
“You got something on your mind, you should just spit it out,” Blanche said, putting her mug down on the ottoman.
Tess looked at her. Really looked at her. The idea that Blanche might be a Veiler popped into her mind. And with it her defenses went back up. “Right back atcha. I’m not really sure why you invited me here.”
“Make a guess,” Blanche said lightly. She leaned back, ran her hands down her thighs like there might be lint on her robe.
“Okay. I think you like knowing Hugh’s business because you love him like he’s your own son, and you’re trying to figure out what my motives are. You’re disheartened because I’ve apparently tried to sneak away and you wanted to meet me before you decided what to do about that. But it’s not my best interest you’re after—it’s Hugh’s. So I really think you should spit it out, not me.”
Blanche nodded. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She looked at Tess with genuine interest—and compassion—in her eyes, before gesturing around the room with her hand. Emotion Tess couldn’t put a finger on passed over the older woman’s features as she blinked several times. “He built this house for me. The old one burned to the ground last year. I thought I’d have to go to a senior shithouse, but Hugh wouldn’t hear of it. He took care of the insurance and got his friends to help out. Built this place in less than six months. And never asked me for a penny.”
Tess gulped. Her heart squeezed. “Wow.”
“He’s a private SOB, but if anyone he cares about gets into trouble, he’s first in line to help them out. He’s had more lost souls up to that house than I can count.”
For a brief moment, Tess forgot to breathe. “You think I’m a lost soul?” She shifted on the couch, uncomfortable with that assessment. Was she?
“No.” Blanche shook her head. “I think Hugh’s in over his head and he doesn’t know what to do about it. He smitten with you, that’s for sure. I’ve known that boy a long time, and I’ve never seen him so discombobulated over a woman.”
Something inside her softened, weakened. Awakened. She sighed. And she couldn’t meet Blanche’s eyes, instead picking a spot on the dark wood floor.
“So we’ve established you’re smitten too,” Blanche said, relief in her voice.
Tess lifted her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it’s been my experience that confronting it head on is always the best plan.”
“Oh, believe me, we’ve confronted it.” Tess looked down at the game board they’d yet to touch. “And unfortunately, whatever is going on between us is only short term. Sorry, Blanche.”
Blanche chuckled. “That’s what I thought when I met Artie.”
“Artie?”
“My husband and the love of my life. He passed away a few years ago. Told me on the day we met it would never last because he’d surely screw it up. We were married for fifty-three years and the only thing he screwed was me.” She crossed an arm over her chest so that her palm rested over her heart.
She and Blanche eyed each other for a moment and then both burst out laughing. Tess couldn’t remember ever laughing like this. It felt good. Felt nice to have a grandmother figure share something so unexpected and intimate.
Tess rose from the couch and stretched. “I should probably head back.”
“He’s worth sticking around for,” Blanche said, standing and slowly making her way toward the front door.
“I’m not sure I’m—”
A heavy knock on the door silenced Tess. Only one person would pay a visit to Blanche at this hour.
“Hugh,” Blanche scolded as she opened the door wide enough for Tess to be seen. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
He practically filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and height. “Just thought I should escort this lovely lady back home. You two have a nice chat?”
Clearly, he wanted to know what they discussed, but Tess had no intention of telling him. And the way he spoke made it sound like he’d known all along where she was.
She huffed and darted around him. “Thanks, Blanche, for the drink and the good company,” she called over her shoulder, realizing the older woman probably never intended to loan her a pair of shoes.
“Anytime!” Blanche called out.
A moment later, Hugh was by her side, too close and too far away for her to think straight. She stumbled, not because of his proximity, but because a twig lodged itself between her toes. She swallowed a hiss.
Hugh scooped her up and held her against his chest.
Her entire body went rigid before relaxing. She thought about demanding he put her down. She thought about yelling at him to keep his hands to himself. But the truth was nothing inside her protested. And his quiet action spoke volumes she didn’t want to address.
She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.
Chapter Eleven
The setting sun cast the most breathtaking orange streaks across the sky. Tess loved looking up into the blue yonder, through the gaps in the trees, to watch the daylight disappear. She sat on the porch where the only noise came from chirping crickets and the occasional squirrel or other small creature. The peacefulness soothed her mind, relaxed her shoulders. She was content.
Confused.
For the past three nights, she’d sat out here, contemplating her job and her life. Continuing to work side-by-side with Hugh had shed little light on their mission. They weren’t any closer to finding Trey or Dobson, despite their research. She also wasn’t any closer to finding a reason to eliminate him.
Things didn’t add up, and her stomach turned sour every time she thought about the task at hand. Who the hell wanted Hugh eliminated? Never before had it mattered to her who ordered the hit, but this time she had a gut feeling it was important.
Worse, her body continued to betray her by perking up every time he was near. She had to work damn hard to keep her heart rate in check so he wouldn’t know the power he had over her. She couldn’t blame it all on hormones either. Her thoughts, her dreams, all centered around him and what it would be like if the situation were different and he wasn’t her mark.
Which scared the bejeesus out of her.
Because she couldn’t fall for him. Could. Not. He was her mark and she had a job to do.
“Hey, mind if I join you?” His voice broke her train of thought.
“Not at all. Have a seat.” She found it endearing that he asked if he could join her every night, rather than assumed.
The swing swayed as he sat, and she was acutely aware of his closer than normal proximity this evening. Their shoulders touched, his masculine scent made her bare toes curl. She wanted to lean into him, lose herself in his arms.
Usually they talked about Trey and Dobson, motorcycles or the extreme sports she enjoyed. Hugh was no slouch in his adventures either, and had mentioned in passing he could teach her how to fly. She’d shrugged it off, knowing it was a slip of the tongue and nothing else. They wouldn’t be seeing each other for much longer.
“How long have you worked for P.I.E.?” he asked, surprising her with his choice of topic.
He’d been nothing but honest with her so far, so she figured he deserved the same in return. He’d even stopped locking her in her room at night. “Since I was sixteen.”
“Really? That young? What about your family?”
“I didn’t have one.” A vague picture of her parents remained in her mind, but if she really wanted to see them, she needed to look at the few pictures she had
. “I bounced around foster care.”
She went on to answer his questions, trying not to let too much emotion seep into her voice. It had been ages since she’d dug as deep as he was asking her to go, especially with regards to her parents. Not even Jason had coaxed this much out of her. The truth was, talking about it with Hugh was cathartic. Finally getting so many turbulent feelings off her chest felt good.
He felt good.
His hand wrapped around hers at the first mention of her parents’ death. With their fingers intertwined, she shared what she remembered about their accident, and how she hadn’t understood the permanence associated with losing them because she was so young. Gradually, she’d accepted it, but when she did, hate and despair had consumed her. She grew indifferent, apathetic. Nothing had held any meaning for her.
A dull ache filled her heart as she shared what she could with Hugh. He barely moved a muscle while she relayed her story.
Even mentioning how P.I.E. had saved her and made her what she was today didn’t get a reaction from him. His grip on her hand simply tightened.
“So there’s my life story in a nutshell.” She kicked her legs out and back until the swing swayed in a steady rhythm. “How do you feel about me now?”
His thumb rubbed over hers in a slow, methodical manner, and hot waves of pleasure tightened her stomach muscles, made her breasts tingle and aroused the juncture between her thighs.
He needs to stop. Stop right this minute. But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to touch—
“I think I want to—”
“Stop! Stop right there. Don’t say it.” She jumped to her feet. “We can’t talk nice to each other anymore. We can’t tell each other what we want to do. We can’t—”
He stood, pulled her into his arms and let his actions speak louder than words. His lips crushed hers. He kissed her with passion. With feverish intensity that sent more jolts of pleasure spiraling through her. And she melted into him. Threw her arms around his neck and sank deeper into the kiss.
Veiled Target (A Veilers Novel) Page 15
