“Kell!” she cried out, reaching, and his arm came around her back as her knees gave out. He swept her up in his arms and the cabin disappeared, the smell returning to “rich guy’s house” and the laughter and screams blinking out like someone had turned off the TV. But her vision didn’t clear. She squeezed her eyes closed, but when she opened them could only see hazy light. The panic increased, this time more rational. “Kell,” she said again, clutching the front of his shirt in her free hand.
“This way,” Will said from somewhere in front of them. Kell started walking, and Zoe closed her eyes and pressed her face to his shoulder, wishing he wasn’t wearing the jacket so she could feel his warmth and strength. His arms under her were tense, and she knew he was aware she wasn’t faking.
“It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll get you out of here.” A few steps later he bent and settled her on some kind of settee, stiff fabric over stiffer cushions. A pillow was stuffed under her head as he laid her back, and she heard Will calling for water and a compress.
She’d be embarrassed if this was real. Swooning in the twenty-first century, for cripes sake.
The thought seemed to reboot her brain. Tingles ran up and down her body, her nerves testing themselves, and faded. The queasiness disappeared, and her head felt more stable. She was afraid to open her eyes, though, and find herself still blind.
A cool cloth draped over her forehead. “Take it easy,” Kell murmured, and she sensed that he was kneeling on the floor next to her. “Do you want an ambulance? A doctor?”
“No. I’m okay.” She cracked her eyelids and was relieved to see olive green silk fabric covering the roll of the settee’s arm at her feet, and pale walls, crown molding, a uniformed maid or housekeeper hovering in the doorway, twisting her fingers. She breathed deep and let it out in a long sigh. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Kell wrapped his hand around hers and pressed it to his lips. “Could it be…?” He looked exactly like a half-hopeful, half-worried fiancé asking if she was pregnant.
She smiled sadly and stroked her hand down his cheek. “Maybe.” She was acting now, of course, but couldn’t help wondering if Kell wasn’t. They hadn’t talked much about children, certainly not since he’d proposed. They both wanted them eventually, was all they knew.
But if she was pregnant, it would be Kell’s, and he’d win.
“What can I get you?” Will broke into their moment. “Brandy? No, of course not. Here’s some water.” He handed Zoe a glass, and she thanked him and sipped at it.
“I’m okay, I think, Will, thank you. But I’m afraid we’ll have to skip brunch. I should go back to the hotel and lie down.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do. Perhaps we can try again next time you’re in town.”
“That would be lovely.” She let Kell help her to her feet and was grateful her head didn’t swim or her legs wobble. She smiled at both men and glanced around. “I’m afraid I don’t know—“
“This way.” Will jumped to lead them to the door. “Selma, please let Edward know we’re ready for the car.”
They made small talk on the front steps while they waited for the limo to glide up, mostly about how San Francisco weather was so different from the rest of the country, being so warm in October and chilly in the middle of summer.
Finally, the car was there, and she and Kell slid into its dim comfort. Moments later, they were rolling down the drive and gliding out the gate.
“We’re clear,” Kell said in a voice low enough that Edward couldn’t hear it.
“Roger that,” Grant came back. “You should pass us in thirty seconds, and we’ll be right behind you. Hotel in twenty minutes, barring traffic.”
Zoe automatically looked out the window at the empty street. The limo eased to a stop sign and waited for another car to turn from their right and pass on the left. Zoe followed the car’s path, barely noting that it was at least a decade old and didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Then it passed her window and she looked at the driver. Her gasp was almost a scream.
The man in the beater was Patron Rhomney.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you absolutely sure?” Grant demanded for the third time. Henricksen barked orders into his cell phone, trying to organize a way to get the totems from Carling, now that he’d refused to make it easy and sell them.
“Of course she is.” Kell glowered at Grant. “Stop badgering her.”
“She just had a regressive episode, she said it herself.” Grant leaned aggressively toward Kell, who stood with his hand on Zoe’s arm as if expecting her to faint again. She’d kicked off her shoes as soon as they entered the hotel room, just in case, but she felt physically fine. The “episode” in Carling’s house seemed long ago, residual effects banished by the shock of seeing Pat in that car.
“So?” Kell shot back at Grant. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s been years since she saw him, and that car went by too fast to make a positive identification.”
“He’s right.” Zoe pulled away from Kell and sat on the bed, tiring as adrenaline seeped away. “It looked like him, but not exactly. He was older, and his hair wasn’t as long. It was nicely trimmed. His face wasn’t clean-shaven, but it was trendy scruff, not the bushy beard he used to keep.” She rubbed her forehead and leaned forward over her knees. “I can’t believe I would ever not recognize him. But it’s easy to see someone you know in a stranger.”
Kell didn’t look convinced, but Grant settled back on his heels. “Exactly. We can’t react haphazardly. Rhomney shouldn’t be out of Ohio.”
“He’d come for the totems,” she argued. “Nothing would stop him if he knew where they were. Maybe he wouldn’t let a minion handle it, not after all this time, not after losing them before.”
“I get that.” Grant pulled the desk chair over and straddled it backwards. “I’m not saying you have him pegged wrong. But how would he know they were here, not to mention get here so fast?”
“We know they’re tracking us,” Kell offered.
Grant looked up at him. “Yeah, but they’ve been tracking us since Florida. How would they know we found them now, as opposed to in Utah? Rhomney’s not going to skip on parole without proof. He’s not stupid.”
“Whacked, but not stupid,” Zoe confirmed. Still, when she’d seen that driver, something sharp had stabbed into the base of her neck, and it stung there. She was absolutely certain that man was Rhomney, and equally certain she didn’t ever want to be that close to him again.
Henricksen snapped his phone shut and crossed to them, looking grim. A wave of foreboding raised the hair on Zoe’s back and arms. “What is it?”
The guys turned to face the agent.
“They got to Cocalico.”
Zoe gasped. “Is he dead?”
“No, but he’s in the hospital, unconscious, possible brain injury.”
Oh, no. “What about Rudy?” Her voice shook. It was her fault. She’d led them to those innocent men.
“I have them checking. There’s been no police report.”
“Shit.” She stood to pace, but Grant was in front of her before she took a step.
“It’s not your fault,” he growled so fiercely it derailed her guilt with surprise.
“But—”
“No buts. Whether or not you tracked them down, somehow whoever did this would have connected him to the totems.”
But he was wrong. “No one knew I put them on a train. If I’d just stayed away from everyone and left all this alone—”
“They’d have you by now.” He stepped even closer, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. His intense blue eyes trapped hers; she couldn’t look away. “You are just as important and innocent as Ozzie Cocalico and anyone else that gets in Rhomney’s way. I will not”—he shook her a little—“let you take responsibility for this.”
It was as if he poured his wi
ll into her. Heat welled up inside her body, like hot water in a bath, soothing and healing. It left no room for guilt or regret, and after a moment, she felt nothing but determination and slight anger. The kind that compelled.
“How do you do that?” she murmured, and his eyes blazed in an entirely different way. His fingers loosened to a near-caress on her bare skin, and his mouth parted slightly.
“Unbelievable.”
Kell’s exclamation broke Grant’s spell. Zoe jerked back, but she was standing too close to the bed. Grant tightened his hold to keep her from falling. She had to brace her hands on his chest to keep from falling against him. In the brief moment she touched him, she could feel his heartbeat, hard and fast under his T-shirt.
“Look, Neely, I’ve been cool about this, but you can’t think I’m gonna stand here and watch you seduce her in front of me.” Kell pulled her away from him by the hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Grant looked angry for a moment, his arm actually lifting like he was going to pull her back, but then amusement took over. “I wasn’t seducing her.”
Yeah, right. Zoe couldn’t look at any of them. If she and Grant had been alone, they’d probably be in bed right now. No one should underestimate the power of guilt alleviation. She’d needed that, and somehow he’d known not only that she did, but how to do it.
Henricksen cleared his throat. “Can we get back to this, please?” He waggled his phone in the air, and they gave him their attention again. As he began to speak, Zoe eased away from Kell and sat back on the bed. He followed, staring pointedly at Grant, but didn’t touch her when he sat.
“I’ve confirmed to the Bureau that we’ve got positive ID on the totems and that Rhomney may be here. But the agent charged with keeping tabs on him and Thomashunis talked to the parole officer today, and she insists Rhomney’s in town.”
“It’s Sunday. Your agent talked to a parole officer on Sunday?” Grant looked disbelieving.
“I’ve kept my team alerted to what we’re doing here, and to the actions against Ms. Ardmore and Mr. Stone.”
“How does the parole officer know Pat’s still in town?” Zoe asked. “Did she see him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Great. So that could have been him.” The queasiness returned. “Will. Someone has to contact Will Carling. Pat was on his way to his house.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up the contacts, swallowing over and over to keep the nausea at bay. She already felt bad for playing Will, lying and pretending, and now he was in the line of fire, too.
She hit the dial button and pierced Henricksen with a glare. “You’re getting the totems, right? Now? They’re going in today?” The call went directly to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message, because what the hell could she say?
He shook his head. “We can’t just go in and take them. We need Carling to agree to sign them over or a compelling reason to seize them, which takes a warrant. Which is impossible to get on a Sunday when there’s no confirmation of physical threat. I had to do a lot of fast talking to even get that far.”
“So, tomorrow?”
“With luck.”
Zoe stood again, her eyes burning. “We can’t let Will just swing in the wind. He didn’t answer his phone.”
“You saw his security setup.” Kell stood, too, his brow furrowed with worry, but logic still dominant. “He’s going to be fine.”
“I’ve asked the local office to send a patrol car by,” Henricksen assured her. “But we don’t even know for sure Rhomney’s here.”
He’s here. But she nodded. For a moment, they all stood, unmoving. She could almost hear engines revving, waiting for the green flag. But it wasn’t going to come for a while, and she couldn’t handle the collective tension. “I’m going to change and take a nap.”
“Good idea.” Kell stood and made to follow her. She stopped.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned. “I’m walking you to your room. Don’t worry, I’ll go on to my own.”
Zoe would have said she was fine walking the twenty feet to her door, but the possibility of Pat being nearby made her jumpy. They walked in silence down the hall, and she paused at her door to thank Kell. He seemed strangely taller than usual, and she remembered she’d left her shoes in the other room. Oh, who cared? She wasn’t going to be wearing them again soon.
“You’ll be okay alone? I don’t mind coming in and just being here. I can rest in the other bed.”
She smiled. “Tempting.” He’d taken off his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt. He’d gotten warm, because he smelled good. Not the intentional scent of cologne, but the real, deep scent of his skin and need.
“Yeah?” His lips curved and he braced a hand on the door to lean over her. “How tempting?”
“Too.” The memory of her panic at Will’s was strong, and Kell could take her away from that. He was the “after” part of her life, the part she’d kept distant from the horrors, and she knew if she let him in, if she made love with him, it would banish the fear and pain, at least temporarily.
But she didn’t move. Didn’t open her door to escape him or let him in. Didn’t stop looking into those gorgeous blue eyes, so deep and oh, God, so wanting. She whispered his name, and it came out a plea rather than a warning.
Kell dipped down and touched his mouth to hers, his eyes closing before they met. Zoe kept hers open. She wasn’t sure why. His lips were gentle and undemanding, just offering her a taste, a promise. But his face was taut, his eyes scrunched a little, so that she knew he was closing off something else—pain, regret, betrayal, anger?
The last thing she wanted to do was lead him on and hurt him again later, but his mouth parted and coaxed hers open, his tongue smoothly invaded her, and something cracked. Her eyes closed, her hand came up to the back of his head, and she kissed him back. Just a little. Enough to keep from crushing him, or so she told herself. But a whimper escaped, and her body arched toward him.
Down the hall, a door opened. Zoe jerked back and thumped her head against the door. “Ow.”
Henricksen stepped out and spotted them. “Hey.” He waggled his phone and walked halfway down the hall toward them. “Grant’s talking to his guy in Boston. They’ve got eyes on Olivia, and she’s fine.”
Zoe shivered. She stopped rubbing the back of her head and kept her gaze fixed on Henricksen. “Thanks.”
Kell had shifted away from her. He waited until the agent had gone back into the other room before turning to her. All soft feelings were completely gone. His expression could have given Grant’s stone face a run for its money.
“I asked Grant to check,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If Pat knows the totems are close and thinks he can’t get to me—”
“Yeah. I get it. I know what’s at stake.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and his chin at her door handle. “Go inside. I’m going to go check in with my parents’ people, too. Let them know what’s changed.”
“Kell—”
“You don’t want to talk about this,” he warned. “You don’t want me to start thinking about whether I should go be with my sister.”
“You should,” she squeezed through her tight throat. Her eyes burned with dryness, and she fiercely shoved down the misery his words brought. She deserved them, after all. And far more. “Olivia is the vulnerable one, and she did nothing to become a target.” She would die before she’d let anything happen to Olivia, but didn’t think Kell would react well to hearing it.
To her surprise, he blew out a loud breath and dropped his head. “You didn’t, either.”
“What?”
“Look, you did plenty wrong here. Made some questionable decisions. But we’re all in this because you became a target through no fault or will of your own sixteen years ago.” He pulled one hand out and nudged her. “Go ahead. Go inside. We’ll talk about this later.”
She pulled her keycard out of her purse but otherwise didn’t move. “Are you go
ing to Boston?”
“I don’t know. Let me talk to people. We’ll see.”
He went inside with her and checked the room, amusing her when he peered behind the shower curtain and in the closet, even pulling the safe door wide to check inside. Then he left without saying anything else, and Zoe collapsed onto her bed, even more conflicted than before.
Because she didn’t know which she wanted more—for him to leave or for him to stay.
* * *
“Almost over” was usually when everything turned to shit. So even though Grant agreed they should sleep during forced down time, he found it more difficult than it should have been.
Normally, power naps were a piece of cake. But normally, he had nothing personal at stake in a job. So instead of falling asleep as soon as he fell onto the bed he stared at the ceiling, wondering if Stone had really left Zoe at the door to her room. If he himself had a chance with her at all. The idea that he didn’t made him want to go roaring out of the room to demonstrate his beat-down skills to Stone. So he didn’t have to wonder if he really wanted her or just wanted what she represented.
Okay, that was too psychobabbly. Think about the op. Ideal progression: Henricksen would get the warrant tomorrow morning, they’d go in, confiscate the totems, placate Carling with false assurance that it was temporary, and destroy the damned things, somehow letting Rhomney know that it was all over.
But that would leave Rhomney and Thomashunis at large, and who knew what they’d do in retaliation? They hadn’t done anything the government could prosecute them for, unless it could be proven they were responsible for Cocalico’s assault. That wouldn’t be easy. Rhomney wouldn’t have allowed any trail back to him, not anything that was solid enough for charges to be levied.
So to Grant’s mind, that meant Zoe would still be vulnerable. She seemed to think Pat would let it drop if he had nothing to gain, but Grant knew that was wishful thinking.
Aftershocks Page 21
