Deadly Obsession

by Jaycee Clark

  Christian jerked her hand back. "Do you mind?"

  He stared a moment more at Brayden, who she saw only smirked back. Men!

  "Can we get the bags and go?" she asked.

  Brayden hauled her up to his side. "Anything you want, mia bella."

  Heat rushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, prickling her skin. She could only smile, all thoughts completely taking flight.

  Quinlan shook his head, still grinning and said pointedly to Brayden, "Dad’s gonna have your ass. He told Mom if she," he said, pointing to her, "came home without a ring on her finger, she better by God not have a baby on the way." Quinlan’s chuckle was rusty. "He kept muttering something about his offspring not keeping their zippers up."

  "What did your mom say?" Christian asked as they made their way to the luggage carousel.

  "Well, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that part," he said quickly and looked at the bags. "So which ones are yours?"

  "Quinlan," both she and Brayden said.

  A flush started from his neck and stained the edge of his ears. "She--uh--Mom said they only took after their father."

  "What?" they asked together. Brayden grinned and she chuckled.

  Quinlan laughed again, looking at her. "Glad to hear you laugh again. What did you two do? Take a course on synonymous-rhythmical speaking?"

  "I was thinking more along the lines of ‘jinx’ and a pinky shake," she told him, reaching around both males and grabbing one of her suitcases.

  Before long, all their bags were loaded in the back of Quinlan’s Lexus.

  Christian slid into the backseat. Both men were in the front, which was fine with her. It gave her time to think and settle her nerves before they got home.

  "So, what did you bring me?" Quinlan asked, his gaze directed at her in the rearview mirror.

  "What makes you think I got you anything?" she asked him.

  "Cause I’m your favorite brother, and you know I love Italian things, and it’s Christmas."

  Indeed. She and Brayden had done practically all of their shopping in Venice. Everyone was getting something from either there or Murano. There had simply been too much beautiful glasswork to pass up the fabled island artisans. She’d gotten Brayden a leather jacket. Knowing her luck it wouldn’t fit, but she’d worry about that later.

  "Did you get the tickets?" Brayden asked from the passenger seat, interrupting their by-play.

  "Of course," Quinlan answered, with that haughty air they all had. Almost as if he were insulted that there might be something he couldn’t do.

  Christian leaned back and watched the lights pass by in the night. Christmas was bright and sparkling in the winter air. By the time they were halfway out of the city, heading toward Seneca, flurries danced in the air.

  A white Christmas. That would be nice.

  Brayden watched the light snowflakes flutter in the beam of their headlights, noting all the Christmas lights rainbowed with other decorations to shout greetings for the merry season. Celtic Christmas music fluted from the car’s speakers.

  Tomorrow he planned to take Christian and Tori to see The Nutcracker. They went every year, and this year would be no different. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. This year, there would be that feeling of family with them. Last year, he’d actually thought about that, but had shrugged it off.

  But this year. This year everything was different.

  They’d bought gifts together. The thought had him grinning. He’d never bought a gift for someone, let alone all his family members, with another woman. It was kind of nice, watching her sign all their names to one card. Even if they were signed: Brayden, Tori and Christian. Since he’d made the issue of them buying gifts together, he figured he’d pressed enough not to bring up how her name was supposed to follow his. That would come later, if not as soon as he wished.

  He glanced at Quinlan, the dashboard lights glinting eerily on his brother’s features as he remembered what his brother had said about a ring.

  Brayden’s grin grew. A ring? Damn straight. He’d bought it the day he bought her the pendant. But he was smart enough to see when the time was right for things, and as yet, Christian wasn’t ready to hear his proposal.

  He hadn’t gone looking for a ring. He’d been in that shop to buy her the pendant, or something. While the clerk had wrapped the sapphire necklace, he’d browsed. And seen it. Sitting on a bed of black velvet the ring winked at him.

  A single marquee diamond, simple yet not, if he could find the right band to go with it. And he had no doubt he eventually would. Three carats seemed perfect, after all Christian wasn’t a flashy or showy type of woman, but that didn’t mean he had to get her a plain little diamond either. He didn’t want anyone missing what the ring meant when she put it on her finger. And with one this size, it should be fairly obvious, though personally, he liked the larger stone. But she wouldn’t.

  The closer they got to home, the more he looked to the backseat.

  Christian sat with her head against the headrest, her gaze out to the cold world. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned and their gazes locked. Would he ever get used to those pale gray eyes? Probably not.

  Hell, he hoped not.

  A small smile teased her lips and he wished he’d sat in the backseat with her.

  "You okay?" he asked, reaching over the console into the backseat, holding his hand out to her.

  She grabbed it and laced her fingers inside his. "I’m fine." A frown pulled between her brows before it straightened away. "I’m fine," she repeated. "Just thinking about Christmas and seeing Tori. God I’ve missed her."

  "Me, too." Talking on the phone every day had in no way made up for not getting to see his daughter for several weeks. The only thing that had comforted his worry was knowing she was in good hands. But it was the first time he’d been away from his little girl since that nightmare with Gavin and Taylor when Tori and Ryan had been kidnapped.

  Quinlan turned onto the driveway of their family home.

  Home.

  Thank God. He couldn’t wait to see his daughter. Just as the car pulled to a stop, the front door flew open and the light of his life bounded down the walk.

  He heard Christian’s sigh as she squeezed his hand, hurrying with her seat belt as quickly as he was.

  Brayden was out of the car just in time to catch Tori as she launched herself at him.

  "I’ve missed you. It’s about time you came home!" she said into his neck, burrowing against him.

  Brayden breathed deep, the smell of her, sweet and fruity not masking the child’s scent of innocence. He felt a catch in his throat and cleared the words past it as he squeezed his daughter tighter. "Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you, pumpkin."

  She pulled back and he saw her roll her dark blue Kinncaid eyes. "Really, Daddy, I hardly doubt that."

  He raised a brow and turned as Christian came up beside them. Tori squirmed to be set down. She wrapped her arms around Christian, who he saw, bent down and inhaled deeply just as he had.

  Christian’s eyes were closed, but he still saw the silvery trail glide over her cheek. "Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad to see you."

  Tori pulled back and said, "Well, of course you are! I’m precious."

  God, help him. She was only eight.

  "Why are you crying?" Tori asked, wiping her small hand over Christian’s cheek.

  "It’s a happy, stupid tear," Christian said on a chuckle.

  "How can a tear be happy, or even stupid?"

  He wondered the same thing. Quinlan strode past them up the walkway and into the crowded door.

  "I’ll explain when you’re older," Christian answered, straightening and looking to him with a small smile.

  He smiled back and took Tori’s and her hand. "Come on, you two. Everyone’s waiting."

  "They’ve been waiting since like yesterday," his daughter informed them. Just as they reached the door, she stopped, halting them all half-inside, half-outside the threshold. "So,
did you get me the Christmas present I wanted?"

  She grabbed Christian’s right hand, then shook her small dark head and reached for the left one.

  Dropping that one, she turned a frown on him. "Daddy, Daddy, I ask for one thing. And you couldn’t get it for me?"

  Some things were not that simple.

  "See, Kaitie lass," his father said in that normal booming bark, just to his right as Brayden ushered them all in and shut the door. "I told you. Not an ounce of propriety amongst any of our sons...."

  "Oh, Jock, stuff it." His mother smiled and walked to them.

  God, it was good to be home.

  * * * *

  The ballerina twirled and flitted across the stage with the speed and ease that even the most uneducated had to appreciate. The notes of Tchaikovsky’s Sugar Plum Fairy chimed out in short, sharp bursts. Her stiff tutu bounced to her movements, her sequins flashing silver under the blue stage lights, as her partner ran his hands along her rib cage as she bent back.

  Richard found the dancers’ movements beautiful and erotic.

  Then again, it was probably because she was here. He’d seen her the minute she walked in on the arm of that Kinncaid. And a child with them.

  He quietly sniffed as he watched them from the corner of his eye. They were in the next section of balcony seats, so it wasn’t hard for him to see her, to watch the way she leaned over to whisper something to the girl, or the way her head tilted when he said something in her ear.

  When the man’s arm stretched across his daughter’s seatback and his hand caressed Josephine’s shoulder, a red haze clouded Richard’s vision.

  It was all he could do to watch the performance, let alone not stand up and demand that she come to him.

  His fist thumped on the armrest. Estella covered it with her cold hand, jerking his attention back to where they were.

  Shifting, she leaned over and whispered, "What is with you tonight?"

  He caught the annoyance in her voice.

  Looking around, he took note of the other people in attendance, obviously politicians: senators, congressmen, government officials. Military uniforms, their braids and buttons catching the light, ordered respect. This was hardly the place to have people wondering. He had a reputation to keep, to build here, to uphold.

  Smiling, he patted her hand, and answered, "Sorry, darling, I was just thinking." He kissed her cheek and promised, "I will stop and enjoy our evening."

  His wife nodded, straightening in her seat, concentrating on the story unfolding through movements and music.

  Kinncaid traced Josephine’s ear, and Richard saw them share a smile.

  An intimate smile.

  Richard bit down, tried to look at the performance, but he couldn’t take his gaze away from the couple.

  Couple!

  And they were clearly that.

  No. No. No. This would not work. This would never work. He was not about to let her get away, to all but give her away now that he had her back.

  Silly girl, she knew better, damn it. How dare she let that man touch her! The rage netted his vision, choked his breath.

  Time for another tactic. One was already in play, sympathy already given, she just didn’t know it yet.

  Richard straightened his bow tie and shifted in his seat, wanting to leave.

  How could he get her attention?

  His plan was, unknown to his wife, already in motion. But in time she would learn. He absently wondered how she would react when she saw her daughter. Knowing Estella, she’d probably ignore Josephine, but then again it would depend on the setting. If a performance was needed, he had no doubt his mate could deliver it. She always had before.

  He and his wife were a perfect pair, coldly ambitious. He would admit that. But Josephine....

  She was the fire in his life.

  The reason ... a game ... the enjoyment.

  His angel smiled again, a real smile.

  Why had she never smiled at him like that? Hadn’t he shown her love? Shown her what it was like to be a woman, to be cherished? He’d shown her beauty and she’d hated him.

  That man, that man could do no more than graze her shoulder with a finger and she smiled at him.

  Anger sat heavy and thick in his mouth, rushed through his veins.

  The man would have to pay.

  Josephine was his.

  With that comforting thought in mind, he focused back on the stage, as his mind calculated, plotted and planned.

  He smiled and enjoyed the performance.

  * * * *

  Christian shivered as Brayden’s finger traced her ear. Trying to concentrate on the performance was beyond her. She saw the dancers, the Arabians jumping and leaping to impossible heights, but she could not concentrate.

  Pulling her head to the side, she attempted to glare at him, but he had that deceptively bored look on his face. The corners of his eyes told of the smile lurking just at the edge of his mouth. She shook her head and turned back to the stage.

  Tori sat on the edge of her seat between them, enthralled as she was every year. Christian ran her hand over the girl’s black velvet dress. She and Tori matched, both had on long sleeved, ankle length black dresses. She wore her cloak and the pendant Brayden had bought for her in Italy.

  The night was wonderful. It was like they were a family. Secretly, she’d dreamed of this every year they’d come to see The Nutcracker, but this year, it was real. Now, she and Brayden were aware of each other as they’d never been before. Before had been a fantasy for her and not even a thought for him. This year, there were stolen glances, soft touches, promising caresses.

  Tori wiggled back in her seat, and Brayden dropped his hand, gently massaging her shoulder.

  Intermission came and the little girl had to go to the ladies’ room.

  The line was long but finally she and Tori were done and heading out one end of the restrooms. There were two entrances. Christian glanced down the way, to the other entrance and stopped.

  Estella Burbanks.

  Estella Burbanks.

  Her mother.

  The woman disappeared inside the ladies room. The flash of her maroon gown and brown hair gone.

  No, she had to be mistaken.

  What would the woman be doing here? A stupid question. It was cultural, it was a place to see the who’s who, a place to make an appearance.

  Her heart pounded, and her hand trembled.

  And if Estella was here, then so was he.

  Oh, God.

  A vise tightened on her chest. Before the attack could stake its claim, she pulled her inhaler out of her evening bag and took a puff.

  "What’s wrong?" Tori asked her.

  Christian could only shake her head. Darting quick looks around, she searched for him. He had to be here. No, he was here.

  She knew it.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

  "Come on, let’s go find, Daddy. You don’t look so good." Tori pulled her hand, trying to get her to follow.

  Her feet were rooted to the spot. A group of men several yards away burst into laughter. The sharp noises grated on her nerves and drew her attention. One man shifted and she could see several of them.

  She could see him. Richard was staring at her. And the look on his face was utterly furious, even if he did smile at the man next to him. His gaze was one she knew too well.

  "Christian! Come on," Tori said, impatience clear in her voice.

  I love you, everything about you, mia bella.

  Brayden’s voice guided from her heart, through her soul. Christian raised her chin, looked at Richard, through him, past him.

  As they walked by the group of men, nausea greased her stomach, but she held her head high and laughed at something Tori said, though for the life of her, she didn’t know what it was.

  Seconds after they sat down, the lights dimmed.

  Brayden wasn’t there. Where was he?

  The lights flickered again. And still no sign of him
.

  First will be Brayden and his little girl...

  "I wish I could dance like these girls do," Tori said wistfully. "But I’ll just stick to the piano."

  Christian ran her gaze over the room. Where was Brayden? She scanned the crowd again and saw Richard and Estella sitting down in the next section.

  They were so close! She fisted her hands in her lap.

  "I missed you two. Where did you go?" Brayden asked, jerking her around.

  She couldn’t hold her sigh in, but tried to hide her relief.

  "Well, I thought we might get a drink, but Christian had to use her inhaler, and I thought maybe we should sit down. I didn’t want to miss any of it," Tori chattered.

  The lights dimmed a last time, plunging the room into darkness save for the stage lights.

  She still heard Brayden’s, "Hmmm..."

  Staring straight ahead, she didn’t dare turn her attention to her right for fear Brayden would see her, afraid he’d follow her gaze through the darkness and see who she was looking at.

  Brayden’s hand rubbed the back of her neck, and though she didn’t look once at him, she could feel his cool assessing gaze on her, wondering, studying, watching.

  From the other direction, she could feel Richard’s hot, angry glare.

  She had no idea how much longer the performance lasted. An hour? Over? She didn’t remember anything about it, but Brayden talking to Tori on the way out of the concert hall. His arm, tight around her shoulders, steered them down the steps as he held his daughter’s hand.

  As they hurried down the steps, out into the cold bitter wind, she heard that voice that haunted her nightmares, that stalked her over the years.

  She tried to ignore it, but she must have done something, because Brayden stopped and looked at her, then scanned the crowd.

  His look was weighing, tight, and coiled, as though he knew.

  But, how could he know?

  Their limo waited at the curb, the driver standing by the door. Tonight they were staying at the hotel.