by Jaycee Clark
In long easy strokes, she wrote his name out. Then she took a photo out of her purse. She’d ripped out of a news magazine. The original copy was a photo of Richard waving to fooled constituents and Ivan was standing beside him. She’d cut Richard off and copied the picture of Ivan.
"Here’s a photo of him."
He took the paper and the photo and passed them to his partner. "This isn’t your attacker?"
Christian shook her head. "No, but if you can crack him, you’ll have your guy."
"Why the middle man?"
She stood and thought about how to phrase it. Finally she shrugged. "You won’t get that man," she said, pointing to the file on his desk with her name printed neatly on it, "unless you get Ivan. Trust me, I know.
The bastard’s gotten away with it," she looked pointedly at the report about the Jane Does, "twice before, and without Ivan, he probably could weasel his way out again."
"What the hell does that mean?" Gabe asked, standing, anger tightening his rugged features.
She shook her head, leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I never thanked you, did I?"
That caught him off guard. "That doesn’t matter," he said, with a wave.
"Yes, it does. So, thank you." She pointed to the paper. "I promise, soon. I’ll answer all your questions soon. I just have to find the courage somewhere."
"Is it going to be anytime soon?"
She couldn’t help but grin. "You and Brayden are so much alike sometimes."
"Why the wait?"
"Because, I need some time to think." She smiled at him.
"I could arrest you for obstruction of justice." His glare could melt steel.
"But you don’t want to have to explain that to my bodyguards, do you?" With that, she turned and walked out of the police station.
Another silver lining.
She could have kids, and Richard’s DNA matched. With a rueful smile, Christian climbed in her car and drove to the shop, realizing that this was a good day.
* * * *
Richard checked his watched.
"And then we’ll meet again later in the month," a man across from him said.
The two men were other congressmen--one a senator and the other a representative.
Why hadn’t he heard anything yet?
The plan he’d set in motion was sure to have Josephine doing exactly what he wanted. She’d be too scared not to.
She’d forgotten her place and it was time she was reminded of it.
Josephine answered to him and him alone. Not Mr. Brayden Kinncaid, but that would no longer be a problem between them soon.
Wondering again why Ivan hadn’t called, he sat up and offered the men a drink.
"No, thank you, Congressman Burbanks. We really need to be going. You mentioned you had a golf game you needed to get to, and we’re keeping you. Thank you for inviting us out."
They all shook hands and he led them to the door.
Again, he checked the time.
What the hell was taking so long?
His obstacle should have been eliminated by now.
* * * *
Brayden ushered the clients to the table nestled in the corner window of the shop.
"We were really hoping we could find a nice Edwardian armoire, but so far, nothing is what we’re looking for."
The Arlingtons were one of his pickiest clients. Some had the picture of a ‘perfect’ piece in their minds and if whatever was found did not match up, they didn’t want it. Which was fine with him. It just didn’t make his job easy. But, he was almost certain he’d finally found one they would like. Of course that had been a nice Regency, and now they wanted Edwardian. Oh well, he’d show them the photo and information on the furniture he’d found. Who knows, maybe they’d buy both. In his business two was always better than one.
He asked if they wanted any refreshments and wondered again where in the hell Christian was. She wasn’t answering her phone. He’d only gotten her voice mail.
Idiot woman. Going out alone. Was she insane? No, just stupid apparently.
He was going to have to permanently attach her to his wrist. If he’d known she’d run off first thing out of the box, he would have brought her along this morning. Which had him asking again where she went and why she had to lie about it, not that he told his mom when she called that Christian wasn’t here. No, he just played along that she was here and ran out to grab something.
The bell over the door tinkled.
Christian stood there in her black peacoat, a smile on her face and trouble shifting in her eyes.
He wanted to shake her. Smiling to his clients, he excused himself and jerked his head to the back.
Without a look behind him, he knew she followed, her boot heels echoed on the floors.
In the kitchenette, he whirled. "Where in the hell have you been?"
Her brows furrowed then cleared as she smiled at him. "I’m sorry for lying to you and your mother, but I had some things to do."
"Such as?" he asked, pouring coffee so quickly it sloshed onto his hand. Damn it.
A heavy sigh filled the air. "Soon, Brayden. I promise I’ll tell you everything. Soon."
Slamming the carafe down, he asked, "When?"
Her head cocked to the side. "Tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night’s the New Year’s Eve party." What was she up to?
"I know what day it is, Bray."
He took a deep breath and counted to ten. It did not help. Nothing helped anymore when it came to Christian.
"Why I want to marry you is completely beyond me at the moment." As if in battle, he all but tossed the cups on the tray, jostled the sugar and creamer on there, and threw a couple of spoons down to complete the arrangement.
Well, hell. Grabbing a towel, he straightened the mess and tried to make it presentable.
When he looked at her, she was as still as the bronze siren standing just outside the doorway.
"What?" he asked.
"What did you say?" she asked him, in a small voice.
He ran back over the words, and smiled. Then frowned. "Are you married?"
Her brows rose in shock. "No."
"Is your name Christian? Or do I have to get used to calling you something else?" This was not how he’d planned to go about this.
"No, it’s Christian."
Her face was a mixture of hope, befuddlement and confusion. The expression pulled a smile from him.
Quickly, he leaned over and gave her a peck. She never moved. Good, it was about time he caught her off guard. Lord knew that’s where he spent most of his time.
"Don’t lie to me again, or go running off by yourself." With that he picked up the tray and walked out the door.
Several minutes later, she walked to the register. He was jotting down what the Arlingtons were looking for in their Edwardian search. He wanted the file on the Regency he had for them.
"Christian," he said.
"Yes?"
"Could you get me the file on the Arlington’s last request?"
She left and came back. "It’s not in the filing cabinet. Did you take it home?"
Brayden thought. "Yeah, I did. It’s in my backseat." He remembered taking it out when he’d been looking for something in his briefcase.
"Keys?"
Quickly, he dug them out of his slack’s pocket and tossed them to her.
Christian smiled at the Arlingtons. "You’re going to absolutely love this piece. It’s in mint condition, owned by and passed down through an aristocratic family in Lancashire. They all died out and the last remaining in the line, auctioned off the estate."
"Oh, really?" Mrs. Arlington said. "Did you just get the one piece from the estate?"
Christian looked to him.
"No," he said, "we purchased several. They just arrived in the last couple of weeks."
"I’ll be right back," Christian said and walked to the back door, or more aptly, side door.
The shop was on a corner and had two doors. One led into the kitc
hen, the one he always used as he parked on the side. The other door was, obviously, the front.
"This is the Regency armoire we asked you about before?" Mr. Arlington asked, drawing his attention back.
"Yes. And Christian’s right, it’s a wonderful piece. If you don’t take it, I’m thinking of keeping it myself."
The clang of keys dropping to the floor had him turning. Brayden leaned back and looked down the aisle to see Christian bend down and pick up the keys as she opened the side door.
"Grab anything else I might have left," he hollered.
She nodded and smiled as she pointed the keypad.
He saw her thumb press it.
An explosion rocked the shop. Windows shattered, and glass flew like missiles. Christian flew back into the cabinets as someone screamed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Is your family cursed or something?" Lieutenant Gabe Morris asked him.
Brayden only glared at the man. Could his day get any better? What was the cop doing here? Morris worked special crimes. Did this fall under that heading?
They stood at the back of an ambulance, where Christian was being treated for shock. She refused to go to the hospital. Since the EMTs convinced him that she was fine, for the most part, he didn’t press the issue.
Smoke singed the December wind, and heat from his blackened Hummer still melted the air. Fire trucks blocked the street, red lights flashing. Someone had finally turned off the damn sirens.
"You two okay?" Morris asked.
No, they were not.
"We’re fine," Christian mumbled.
Brayden’s breath caught as it hit him yet again how close, how very damn close he’d come to losing her.
Again. If she’d been a few feet more, God forbid right at the vehicle, when she’d pressed the button....
He squeezed her hand. His own were riddled with cuts, one long slash down the side of his face from a piece of glass. The Arlington’s had been okay. But since they were an older couple, and Mr. Arlington had heart trouble, Brayden had been glad to see them in another ambulance heading to the hospital.
Other than some windows blowing out in the shop across the street, nothing else was damaged and no one was hurt. Thank God.
Blowing out a breath, he tried to calm the rage pouring through him.
Maybe you’d turn on the coffee pot one morning only to have the shop burst into flames. Christian’s words from Christmas echoed in his mind.
"All right, you’ll probably be sore for the next couple of days. Don’t be surprised if you have some bruising. If something else comes up, go see your doctor," the EMT stated.
Christian nodded and Brayden helped her up, pulling the brown blanket together at her collar.
He looked around. Morris’ partner--what was her name--Laurence? Yeah, she was shoving journalists out of the way. Reporters stood off to the side behind a barricaded area.
He cursed. His parents, he needed to get hold of them so they wouldn’t see or hear about this on the news. With Dad’s high blood pressure, he’d simply rather not take that chance.
"Brayden!"
He turned to see Aiden and Quinlan shove their way through a group of policemen.
"Could you tell them to let my brothers through?" he asked Morris.
"Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice," Morris said as the two barreled their way toward the ambulance. "It’s okay," the lieutenant told the following uniforms. "They’re family."
"God, are you two okay?" Aiden asked.
His oldest brother looked pale, in his opinion, and Quinlan, always perfectly attired, was rumpled, his red hair standing up. Probably from--Quinlan ran a hand through his hair--that right there.
Aiden grabbed him in a tight hug. "We were at the hotel, when we saw this on the news."
"It’s already out?" he asked, pulling back.
"Yes."
"Damn it. What about Mom and Dad?"
Aiden shook his head. "I already called Jesslyn and gave her a heads up." His phone rang and he quickly answered it. "Yeah. Jessie. Could you go by and tell Mom and Dad everyone is fine. Stress that last bit so they know neither Brayden or Christian was hurt."
Brayden turned to see how Christian was holding up, but she was staring at the mangled, burned remains of his vehicle, the end of her blanket gently swaying in the cold December wind.
"I don’t know," Aiden said, impatiently. "What time is it? Okay, check the country club. Dad mentioned something about a golf game. I don’t know if Mom went to the club or not. Tori will be at the house with Becky, but Mom might still be there. Could you go over?" Aiden caught his eye and nodded.
Good, at least they might not hear about this on the news. Jesslyn would tell them.
"Love you, too," Aiden told his wife. He slapped his phone shut. "Now, what the hell happened?" his brother demanded.
Brayden looked to Christian. She still stared blankly at what was left of his Hummer.
"Christian?" Aiden asked, his voice hard.
He grabbed his brother’s arm. "I’ll handle this."
Aiden’s angry blue gaze pierced him. "Will you? Can you?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It just means...."
"Stop it!" Christian’s furious whisper cut through the air.
"So, Lieutenant Morris," Quinlan said into the yawning silence. "What exactly are you doing here?"
They all turned to the cop, all but Christian.
Morris rubbed the corner of his mouth with his finger. "Well, I was on my way to talk to Christian when the call came in on the radio. I’m not a big believer in coincidences."
"Join the club," Aiden barked.
Quinlan raised his brows and walked off.
Morris looked to Christian, and Brayden couldn’t help the spurt of possessiveness that shot through him.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to her just as Morris did.
"So? You came to talk to Christian, about what?" He stood between the two of them, noting she never so much as shifted.
Morris smirked. "That’s between Christian and me. But right now, it’s not at the top of my list. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to talk to Chief Mayben and whoever is in charge of this case. Don’t any of you go anywhere." With that, the smug man walked off.
Prick.
He turned and pulled Christian against him. She was stiff, reminding him of how she’d locked into herself weeks ago. Her hair smelled like smoke, but he didn’t care. God he’d been beyond himself by the time he’d reached her. She’d been on the floor, dazed for several moments, stunned from the blast, covered in glass and wood from the door. In those seconds she hadn’t answered and he’d tried to find a pulse....
He hoped to the Almighty he’d never, never have to go through anything like that ever again.
Finally, he pulled back and cupped her face. For a moment, her eyes lost that blank stare. The flash of emotion in them was too fleeting to pin down, but he’d seen it. Gently, he shook her.
"Don’t. Don’t do this again. I’m here. I’m right here, dammit."
Her eyes, shifted, filled. "But what if it had been you?" she asked on a broken whisper.
She swallowed once, then again.
"What happened?" Aiden asked him yet again.
Anger at her, at what could have been, at some faceless coward all built together and he lashed out toward his brother. "What the hell does it look like?"
"It looks like you have an enemy," Aiden replied, crossing his arms, his look as chilled as the day.
"Ya think?"
"I’m sorry," Christian whispered. "I’m sorry."
Tears ran down her cheeks. Brayden pulled her against him. "It’s okay."
"No, no it’ll never be okay. Even if I put him away, he’ll get out one day. It’ll never, never be okay." Her words were hot against his chest.
"Sorry to interrupt," Morris said returning.
Brayden didn’t want to like the guy, he really, really d
idn’t. But the cop had helped not only when Tori and Ryan were missing, but had saved Christian before and was trying to help now.
Christian pulled out of his arms and turned to Morris, wiping her eyes.
"I need to talk to you," Morris said to her, the lines of his mouth tight. "Can I drive you home?"
Brayden didn’t let her go completely. "I’ll take her to the hotel." Gently he started toward his brothers, but said, "You can meet us there."
A fireman walked up. "Mr. Kinncaid?"
"Yes," he and his brothers all answered.
The man had ‘chief’ on his fire coat and hat.
"I’m Chief Mayben. I need to speak with you, forms to fill out, reports and whatnot. There are several questions that need answering, and after me, the Lieutenant here wants to talk to you." The man held out his hand.
Brayden let go of Christian to shake it. Damn. He didn’t want her here, and the hotel was convenient.
Checking his watch he saw it had been almost an hour since the explosion.
An hour? It felt like an eternity and it apparently would be longer until he got out of here.
"Why don’t you and Aiden stay and work this all out, and I’ll take Christian to the hotel?" Quinlan asked.
Brayden thought that was a great idea.
"No," Christian said. The tears were gone, replaced by determination. "Gabriel? Will you give me a ride?" she asked, turning to the lieutenant.
Gabriel? Brayden ground his teeth at the purely male smile the cocky cop flashed her.
"Sure. I need to discuss a lead with you in anyway."
Aiden’s phone rang, but Brayden was listening to Christian and Morris.
"Shit," Aiden said, drawing his attention. "Yeah, thanks Jessie girl. No, stay there, I’ll be home later. You too, bye."
He hung up and said, "Mom and Dad are on their way here. Apparently they saw it on the news."
Damn.
"Jessie said they were headed to the hotel," Aiden continued.
"I’ll get over there and meet them," Quinlan said. "I’ll call Gavin too."
Brayden nodded.
"You riding with me?" Quinlan asked Christian.
