Parker’s Price

by Ann Bruce

  “He’s jealous, pissed off and unstable.”

  “And you’re not making me feel any better with your attitude.”

  “It’s hard to be rational when I think of what could’ve happened had you been at home when he broke in.”

  Parker froze, then shook as chills ran down her spine. Dean curved his body around hers, as if he could enclose her entirely and make the tremors cease. She had tried very hard to keep those kinds of thoughts at bay. Last night, between the jet lag, shock and sex, it had been so easy. In the cold light of day, reality felt heavy and harsh.

  When warmth finally returned to her flesh, Parker said, “I can’t stay here all day.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much to do. I have to contact my insurance agent, hire a cleaning crew and contractors—”

  “Give your insurance information to me. I’ll get my admin assistant on it and the cleaning crew and contractors. I don’t want you going back there.”

  “I’m sure that’s not in your admin’s job description,” she remarked dryly.

  “Considering the bonus Katie gets every year, she’s not going to disagree with me.”

  “I also need clothes.”

  “Tell her your size and she’ll pick out whatever you need.”

  “I don’t want a perfect stranger picking out my underwear.”

  A beat of silence. “I can personally help you out with that.”

  “You’re only interested in helping me out of them,” she muttered under her breath.

  “That, too,” he said, his body telling her he was currently very interested in the latter. His hand slid under her sweater.

  “I can’t,” she said softly, despite her heated core. “I’m too sore.”

  His lips found the crook of her neck and his voice turned husky. “I can use my mouth.”

  Her breath hitched and Parker was surprised she hadn’t melted into a puddle of lust at his feet. It was oh, so tempting; he was oh, so tempting.

  “No.” She angled herself out of his arms, only to end up cornered against the stone railing. “I can’t let you distract me.”

  “What else is on your to-do list?”

  “Brenda.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “I have to go see her before Savannah gets out from pre-school and before my mother finishes work.”

  “We’ll leave within the hour.”

  “I want to go alone.”

  His voice hardened. “This involves me. I’m the one she claims to be the father of her daughter.”

  “It’ll be easier if I talk to her by myself.”

  “Easier for whom? You or her?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight, not while Moore is still running around loose. And,” he added before she could protest, “even if it’s not him, there’s still someone who wants to hurt you.”

  “I don’t want to disrupt your life like this.”

  His hands went around her waist and met at the small of her back. “It’s too late to go back.”

  She blew out a breath. “I’d really rather talk to my sister alone.”

  “I’ll stay in another room.”

  “And I don’t want you to say anything about the break-ins. I don’t want to worry them any more than necessary.”

  “They need to know so they can be prepared.”

  “I’ll give them an edited version,” she said even as her stomach lurched. “Do you really think they might be in danger?”

  “I don’t know. We can consult a psychiatrist and get a profile.”

  He was perfectly serious, Parker realized. Her presence in his life was turning it upside down and inside out, but not once did he complain. If anything, he kept going out of his way to ensure her safety and comfort. It was nice to be able to rely on someone else, but Parker had to keep reminding herself it was only temporary.

  “Parker?”

  “Have I thanked you, yet?”

  A small smile touched his mouth. “You did last night. And probably will again tonight.”

  Parker saw her niece’s influence on the Quinns’ modest, two-storey house in the Heights: it was all set for Halloween, like a few others on the block. Large, orange trash bags with a jack-o’-lantern print stuffed with fallen leaves sat on the lawn; an emerald-skinned witch flew across a fat moon in the living room window; tissue paper ghosts danced on strings tied to branches on the oak tree; and a pumpkin, which was three times the size of her head and not yet carved, sat on the porch.

  As she stood on the front porch with Dean, Parker wondered if their nieces shared the same favorite holiday.

  She took a breath, silently told herself to stop stalling and pressed the doorbell. She heard the chimes sound on the other side of the door, followed by approaching footsteps. The door opened.

  “Parker!” Brenda exclaimed, automatically stepping back to let her sister enter. Her gaze went to Dean, a polite smile curved her lips, and her attention returned to Parker. “You so owe me for making me lie to Mom.”

  Her expression turned quizzical when neither Parker nor Dean moved. Hazel eyes went from Parker to Dean, back to Parker, back to Dean—and remained there. Parker watched her sister’s eyes widen and her face go pale as blood drained from it.

  “Brenda,” Parker began softly, “we need to talk.”

  Parker watched her sister take three steps away from her before spinning around to face her. They were alone in the backyard, which was enclosed by a six-foot-tall wooden fence on all three sides. It still felt less confining than the house.

  “Why did you bring him here?” demanded Brenda, sounding as agitated as she looked. “How could you do that?”

  Parker ignored the pang of guilt in her chest. “He didn’t leave me much choice.” Her gaze steady on her sister’s, she said, “Dean claims he’s not Savannah’s father.”

  “Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” Brenda shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Brenda,” Parker said sharply, the warning in her tone very clear. “Have you lived with the lie for so long that you believe it, too?”

  “You would take his word over your own sister’s?” Brenda asked incredulously, her voice going higher with each subsequent word.

  Parker mentally sighed. Since Savannah’s birth, Brenda had matured, so why was she taking so many steps backward right now?

  “Dean offered to submit to a DNA test.”

  Brenda’s eyes shimmered with tears. She blinked once, then several more times in rapid succession. Her body tensed and her head swiveled from side to side, as if she was looking for an escape route.

  “Bren, I’m not doing this to hurt you. I just want to hear the truth from you.” She shuffled forward a foot, careful not to startle her sister with any sudden movements. “I need to hear it from you.”

  Brenda looked up, as if hoping for divine intervention. When it was apparent help wasn’t forthcoming from that quarter, she sighed. The tension drained from her frame as she met Parker’s gaze. “You went away with him. He’s the one who was with you on the island.”

  The accusatory tone made her flinch, but Parker merely set her jaw. As a teenager, Brenda’s favorite tactic had been to attack the person reprimanding her. It had frustrated their mother to no end.

  “Yes, but that’s not up for discussion.”

  “And why not?” she demanded, taking an aggressive step toward Parker. “I think it’s pretty damn relevant.”

  “No, it’s not,” Parker insisted firmly, crossing her own arms and tucking her tight fists in the crook of each elbow as her patience wore thin. “You’re just using it to keep from answering my question. Why is it so hard for you to tell me what really happened four years ago? To tell me who’s Savannah’s real biological father?”

  “I can’t tell you because I don’t know!” shouted Brenda as she flung out her arms, hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Parker froze, her eyes locked on her sister. She could see
Brenda’s chest rise and fall with each harsh, audible breath. Suddenly, as if just realizing what she’d said, Brenda’s eyes widened. She covered her mouth with her fingers and spun around, giving Parker her back. Her shoulders shook.

  Snapping out of her numb state, Parker quickly approached her sister and laid a hand on her shoulder. She pulled Brenda toward her and, with a broken sob, her sister fell into her arms. A curious mix of relief and dull pain moved through her.

  As Parker murmured soothing sounds and stroked Brenda’s back, she realized that while her baby sister was several inches taller than her, Brenda still sought comfort by burying her face in the crook of Parker’s neck.

  When Brenda gathered her composure and drew back, her eyes were wet and red rimmed and her nose pink. By tacit agreement, they went back to the porch and settled on the swing, with Brenda resting her head on Parker’s shoulder. They stared at the apple tree in the far corner of the yard because it was easier to speak without looking at each other.

  “It’s not easy,” began Brenda, “being your sister.”

  Why? Parker wanted to demand but held her tongue.

  “Perfect grades in school, you never acted out, you and Mom never clashed—”

  “Were we living in the same house?” Parker asked in a dry tone.

  Brenda rolled her head back just enough to get a glimpse of Parker. “It was never serious and she never stayed upset with you for long. When it came to you, she was always the first to extend the olive branch.” A beat of hesitation. “You’re her favorite because you and she are so much alike.”

  “And Mom and I butt heads because of that. And you’re remembering everything through the eyes of a rebellious teenager; your memory’s editing out a lot of details.”

  “Maybe,” murmured Brenda as she settled back into a more comfortable position. “But she never gets angry with you like she does with me.”

  Parker took a moment to carefully choose her next words. “Mom and I are a lot alike. We’re good with numbers and stubborn; we both like getting our way maybe a little too much—don’t roll your eyes at me, Bren—and we don’t trust easily. But you share traits with her that I don’t. I’m anti-social, but you two aren’t. You both like being the center of attention. You’re both creative, while I, as you often like to say, am a Philistine.

  “We both have bits and pieces of her.” Parker absentmindedly played with a lock of her sister’s hair. “But she worries about you more because you inherited her impulsiveness and she was afraid you’d make the same mistakes she did.”

  Brenda sighed softly. “And I did.”

  “But your mistake gave all of us Savannah.”

  Brenda sucked in an uneven breath, but remained silent for a moment that stretched out for so long Parker didn’t think she would say anything.

  “I don’t even know his name,” Brenda said finally, her voice barely a notch above a whisper. “And I can barely remember his face.” She shifted a little higher against Parker and pressed in closer. “I was at a house party on Long Island, he brought me a few drinks, we talked, we went upstairs to find an empty room, and I never saw him again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us that at the beginning?”

  “I was scared and because I didn’t want you and Mom to judge me, to look at me like you used to. I had a steady, well-paying job and I was finally pulling my own weight in our household. I thought having an affair with the CEO of a company would be more acceptable than a quickie with some anonymous guy in a bathroom. He wasn’t even very good.”

  That last comment startled a short amused sound out of Parker.

  “But it didn’t matter because you and Mom were disappointed anyway and I was back to being a burden. Mom cried for two days.”

  Anger at herself made Parker’s voice tight. “You were—and are—not a burden,” she said, her lips barely moving. But had she inadvertently made Brenda feel like one? The anger dissipated, replaced with a heaviness that weighed down on her neck and shoulders. “And I’m not perfect. Far from it. While Mom was crying and you were scared, I was being self-centered. All I could think about was how you being pregnant would affect me. How I would have to find a new place for us to live because the apartment wouldn’t be big enough. How my commute would be hell because anything big enough in Manhattan would be out of our price range. How I could kiss my sleep goodbye if the baby was a night owl. How I would have to start setting aside even more money every month for a college fund because by the time the baby started post-secondary education, tuition would cost more than this house.”

  Brenda sat up and stared at her sister with wide eyes. “You started a college fund for Savannah?”

  Parker nodded. “I opened the account during her first month.”

  “You never told me.”

  “You had enough on your plate dealing with a new baby.”

  “Does Mom know?”

  “No,” Parker replied, shaking her head. “I don’t want her to contribute to it. Her monthly paycheck is just enough to cover the expenses for this house.”

  “No, it’s not,” countered Brenda. “I know you help out with the mortgage payments.”

  “Small enough price to pay since I was too selfish to move to Jersey with the both of you, and I do well enough with my investments.”

  “You’re not selfish, Parker. Do you think I don’t know you always stay in New York on your vacations because you’d rather use the money to help us out?”

  “You know I don’t believe there’s such a thing as good debt, despite what the banks will tell you. The sooner the mortgages on my apartment and this house are paid off, the better I’ll sleep. Besides, I travel enough for work.”

  “When you travel for work, you always get something for me or Mom or Savannah, but never anything for yourself.”

  “I have less than six-hundred square feet of living space. I have to think about my purchases very carefully. Besides, I get tons of swag from all the shows I attend for the magazine.”

  “Most of which ends up in my closet.”

  “I keep one or two items I really like.”

  Brenda leaned in closer, looped her arms around her sister’s waist and squeezed. “You’re not a saint, sis, but you’re not nearly as selfish as you think you are.”

  “You’re my sister; you have to say that.” Parker sighed. “How did this conversation become about me?”

  “I’ve been watching a lot of Oprah.”

  “Ah.”

  The silence became comfortable.

  “How are you feeling?” Parker asked after a while.

  “Better.” Brenda blew out a breath. “I’m glad you know. It’s like a weight’s been lifted.”

  “You know what they say: Confession is good for the soul.” Parker rose to her feet, tugging Brenda with her. “I know something else that’ll make you feel even better. Let’s go and properly introduce you to Dean.”

  Two spots of color appeared on Brenda’s cheeks. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  Brenda rubbed her hands over her cheeks and her fingers under her eyes to remove any mascara stains. “How do I look?”

  Parker reached up and smoothed back her sister’s stylishly trimmed hair. “Better than I do after I cry.”

  “You never cry.”

  “That’s because I look frightening enough afterward to scare little children,” mumbled Parker. She turned to go inside. Brenda didn’t. Parker’s eyebrow inched up.

  “I’m going to have to tell Mom, aren’t I?”

  “I’d rather she not try to brain Dean when I bring him over while she’s at home because she thinks he seduced and abandoned her baby daughter.”

  A faint smile lifted Brenda’s lips. “You’re serious about him,” she murmured, a faint note of awe in her voice. “You never brought any of the others here. Heck, you’re even wearing his clothes!”

  It took effort for Parker not to fidget. “Don’t read too much into it,” she said dismissively. “There haven�
�t been that many before Dean and the sweater is because my wardrobe is severely limited right now. Which reminds me, I’m going to need to raid your closet for some loaners.” Recalling the other reason why she was here, Parker frowned. “You and Mom need to be careful for the next little while.”

  “Why?” Brenda’s hand clamped on Parker’s upper arm just above her elbow. “Wait. Is this about what you asked me yesterday?”

  “Yes,” replied Parker, and she gave her sister a carefully edited version of the events of the last week.

  After the initial shock wore off, Brenda jumped to the same conclusion as Dean.

  “Why isn’t that worm Tyler behind bars?”

  “Because the law says evidence implicating him is required before he can be taken into custody and charged. Right now, all they can do is question him.”

  Brenda pursed her lips. “Still.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s him.”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” replied Parker, letting her gaze wander. She saw Dean in the hallway just beyond the kitchen doorway, talking on his cell phone and looking grim. He caught her watching him and crooked his finger at her. “Let’s go inside.”

  Dean ended his call and approached them as they stepped through the back door. “That was Detective Wade. Moore has an alibi for the night before last.”

  Parker lifted a brow. “For the entire night?”

  Dean nodded curtly. “Apparently, his new girlfriend was more than happy to provide the detectives with explicit details.”

  “Oh.” A picture of the platinum blonde model flitted through her mind’s eye. “Oh.”

  “Of course, he could’ve hired someone to vandalize your place.”

  She let her skepticism show on her face.

  “Okay, I will concede there’s a chance it wasn’t Moore. However, that makes things more complicated.”

  Parker stiffened. So the matter wouldn’t be resolved as soon as he thought it’d be. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the police and cleaning crew are done with my place. That should be in about two days.”