The Soldier's Seduction

by Jane Godman

  He guessed on some level his PTSD would always be with him. It was woven into his psyche. But every time he fought those demons and won, it was worth a celebration.

  Bryce stood on the thickest of the high branches with his back against the tree trunk. The leaves were thinner here and he was able to shift his body until he was at the best angle. No time like the present. Pushing back against the trunk, he launched himself toward the roof. Relief flooded through him as his hands caught and held the rim of the gutter at the edge of the roof tiles, holding the weight of his body. His bare feet scrabbled against the brick, seeking a foothold. It was no good. There wasn’t one.

  It was a few years since Bryce had done any rock climbing out on the peaks around Stillwater, but he remembered Cameron teaching him how to heel hook. In some of the trickier situations they’d been in, this move had involved getting his heel above his hand to get a grip on the rock. Pain flared through his fingers as he used them to hoist his body higher and swing his right leg out. Bringing his foot up, he managed to get his heel into the gutter. The effort it took and the pain that screamed through his muscles was a reminder that he’d been a lot younger and lighter the last time he’d performed that movement.

  Slowly, he hoisted himself onto the roof. Taking a few moments to sit with his knees bent and his head lowered, he caught his breath. His fingers were burning and every muscle felt like it was on fire. Now all he had to do was slide down the roof, drop onto the balcony and break into Bliss’s apartment through the French doors... That damn cell phone had better be in her apartment.

  * * *

  When Bryce opened the apartment door and let Steffi in, she couldn’t decide whether to be furious with him for placing himself in so much danger or elated that he’d managed to survive his escapades. In the end, she settled for feeling relieved that they were inside Bliss’s home.

  “I saw you get onto the roof, but how did you get in?”

  “That was the easy part.” He closed the door behind her and Steffi switched on the flashlight. “Once I’d slid down the roof and dropped onto the balcony, I just had to figure out how to open the French doors. Luckily, they were the old-fashioned kind with no dead bolts. That old credit card trick really does work.”

  “I can’t believe we actually had some luck on our side at last.”

  Bryce grimaced as he flexed his fingers. “I’m not sure my joints would consider they’ve been lucky.”

  By the narrow beam of the flashlight, Steffi could see that Bliss had an eclectic approach to interior decoration. The small space was a mix of bold color, old and new, quirky and elegant. It was clear the occupant of the apartment chose the pieces because she liked them, rather than with any overall design in mind. The end result was cluttered but comfortable. Steffi experienced a pang of regret that she would never get to know the woman her brother had loved.

  Nothing that had gone before had prepared Steffi for this moment. She had experienced stage fright many times in her life. Had known what it was like to suffer the nerves that went with public appearances, speaking at a podium, facing a crowd of thousands. None of those things could compare to the fear that assailed her now. Her heart was pounding wildly, her palms were sweating and her breathing was uneven.

  “It’s here.” She choked back a sob. “I just know Greg’s phone is going to be in this room.”

  Bryce nodded. “I only wish Bliss had been a minimalist. It would have made searching so much easier.”

  The search took a long time. They were careful to move and replace Bliss’s many possessions. Finally, while Steffi was crawling under a side table, Bryce removed a pile of cushions from an armchair.

  “Here.” He slid his hand under the throw that covered the chair and brought it out, holding it up to show Steffi the cell phone.

  “The charger is here, as well. I was wondering what we were going to do about the dead battery, but Greg seems to have thought of that.”

  She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Had she actually ever believed this moment would come? She had set out on this mad chase because the alternative was to hand herself over to Walter—or the softer option of the police—and give up the fight. But had she really been convinced they would find Greg’s cell phone? There had always been doubts at the back of her mind, but it was only now that she realized how many. She had envisaged lots of different endings to this madness, but never this one. And she couldn’t have done this alone. Without Bryce, she wouldn’t have been able to reach this point.

  “It’s not over yet.” Bryce had that uncanny knack of following her thoughts. “Let’s get out of here. I want to listen to that recording.”

  Chapter 15

  “I guess this is the moment when we find out if 2713 is the access code Greg used for this phone.” Bryce sat on the hotel room bed with his knees drawn up and his forearms resting on them. The cell phone, its charger plugged into the socket at the bedside, was in his right hand. Steffi rested her chin on his shoulder and he could feel the tension thrumming through her.

  He held the cell phone out to her, but she shook her head. “Shaking fingers.” She held her hand up to show him. “I’d make a mistake and get us locked out of the damn thing before we even started.”

  Bryce wasn’t sure he was going to be much better. His own nerves were sky-high. The phone’s home screen was a picture of a Leucadia Beach at sunset, and the beautiful image was at odds with the horror its owner had endured. Carefully, Bryce tapped the access code onto the on-screen keyboard. To his amazement and relief, it took him straight in.

  Steffi hissed out a breath that told its own story about how she felt. This cell phone was the same popular model as the one Bryce had ditched in the fountain at Walter’s Stillwater home. It meant Bryce was easily able to navigate his way around its features. Accessing the folder in which Greg stored his voice recordings, he offered up a brief thank-you to Steffi’s brother for his organizational skills. Greg labeled his files neatly, and the one they were looking for was unambiguous.

  Walter Sullivan—Confession. The label was followed by the date. It couldn’t have been clearer.

  “Ready?”

  He would never get tired of looking into Steffi’s eyes. It was nothing to do with how unusual they were. It was because they were a window to her emotions. He loved watching for the moment they began to sparkle with mischief or joy. When she was concentrating, her gaze would become fixed and refuse to shift until she had pursued the thought that had her in its grip. Then, when she was troubled, as she was now, her eyes became stormy and Bryce could see the darker, amber flecks in their golden depths. That was when he wanted to smooth his fingers over her brow and absorb her cares into his own body. But right now nothing he did was going to take away the darkness he could see in her eyes. Listening to Greg’s recording was either going to make things better...or it wasn’t. Either way, Bryce wanted to let her know he would be there for her.

  Steffi slid her hand into his. “Maybe ready is the wrong word. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready to listen to this. But I have to do it.”

  “We’ll do it together.”

  She nodded and he could see gratitude in the change in her expression. Bryce pressed the red play button on the screen. The recording started with some background noise, then Walter Sullivan’s voice was in the room with them and Steffi jerked as though she’d been on the receiving end of an electric shock.

  “Some people might think your persistence is commendable. I find it annoying. Being dragged along to a meeting because you profess to have evidence of my involvement in a murder is a waste of my time.”

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” Greg’s astonishment could be heard in his voice.

  “Should I?”

  “Arrogant bastard,” Steffi whispered, and Bryce pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I�
�m Gregori Anton.” There was silence. “My parents were Aleksander and Ekaterina. You used to come to our home when I was a child.”

  “I remember.” Walter’s voice was harsh.

  “You and my father were business associates.” There was a tremor in Greg’s voice that betrayed his nervousness, but he plowed on. Bryce spared a moment to admire his courage. “I remember your men. The ones with the tattoos on their hands. You know the ones I’m talking about, don’t you, Walter Sullivan? The ones that look like a bloodshot eye. They were the men who were with you on the night you killed my parents.”

  Walter’s laughter was like a whiplash. “What do you want from me? A confession? The men with the tattoos were your father’s gang members, until they switched their allegiance to me. Aleksander double-crossed me. He cut me in on one of his drug deals, but I found out from Alexei Ivanov that he was paying me a fraction of what his Russian partners were getting. Alexei came to me with a proposal. If Aleksander was dead, there would be a lot more money for me...and your father got what he deserved. No one cheats me. Ekaterina—” Bryce heard Walter’s indrawn breath. Even on the recording, he sounded like a man who was battling for control. “It was her fault things reached that point. She knew what Aleksander was doing. If she had shown me more loyalty—”

  “Shown you more loyalty?” Greg cut across him incredulously. “Her loyalty was to my father, her husband.”

  “Ultimately that was the decision she made.” Walter seemed to have regained some of his composure. “So what next? How much do you want from me?”

  “I should have known you’d think this was about money.” The nervousness was gone from Greg’s tone now. It had been replaced by contempt. “It isn’t. I wanted to look you in the eye and see if you felt any remorse for what you did.”

  This time there seemed to be genuine amusement to Walter’s laughter. “And what about Stefanya? Doesn’t she want to look me in the eye? But I should call her Anya these days, shouldn’t I? Anya Moretti. Little Stefanya Anton has done very well for herself.”

  Bryce felt Steffi freeze at the words. Her hand in his twitched convulsively.

  “You didn’t know me, but you do know who my sister is?” Greg’s voice on the recording was suspicious.

  “Know her? I made her. Anya Moretti wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for me.” Walter laughed again, and Steffi’s grip on Bryce’s hand had tightened to the point where it became painful.

  “What are you talking about?” Greg asked.

  There was a moment or two of silence. Then Greg uttered a startled exclamation. “No!”

  “Next time you see Stefanya, tell her Uncle Waltz said hi.” The microphone had picked up the sound of footsteps and then a door closing. And that was where the recording ended.

  * * *

  “That’s why Greg didn’t go to the police.” Steffi paced the small hotel room restlessly. “He wanted to speak to me first about what Walter said. He was waiting for me to get back from Italy.”

  Bryce went to her, catching hold of her and drawing her into his arms. “It could have been an idle boast. Walter must have known anything he said about you would hurt Greg.”

  Steffi rested her forehead against his chest, breathing deeply. “No. Don’t you see? Walter knew who I was. He knew Stefanya Anton and Anya Moretti were the same person.” She lifted her head to look at him. The remnants of tears shimmered on the ends of her lashes, a consequence of what she had heard her brother endure. “A handful of people know my real name. I try to keep it hidden so that June and Todd can stay out of the limelight. But anyone who does know my real name knows me as Steffi Grantham. No one knows I’m Stefanya Anton...because I’m not.” She clutched the front of Bryce’s shirt as though he was the only thing holding her upright. “I haven’t been Stefanya Anton since I was five years old.”

  “So you think Walter has been following your progress since your parents died?” Bryce asked. As crazy as it seemed, what Steffi was saying must be right. It was the only way Walter could have known what had happened in her life.

  “He must have.” Steffi’s expression became even more distraught. “Which means I was correct when I said Walter knows my adoptive parents.”

  Bryce ran a hand through his hair as he struggled to come to grips with the implications of what she was saying. “But why would Walter want to know what was going on in your life? Why didn’t he just kill you? You knew who he was. You could have given the police valuable information about him. Could he have been feeling guilty because he killed your parents?”

  “He didn’t look very remorseful when he turned away from my father’s dead body. And, if that was the case, why didn’t he know what had happened to Greg since our parents died? He had no idea who Greg was. He said so at the start of that recording. If he felt guilty about what he’d done, why did that guilt only extend as far as me?”

  “Favoritism? Maybe he preferred you over Greg?” Bryce was trying to find rational explanations for Walter’s behavior, but he wasn’t finding it easy.

  “He did. He brought me toys and books, and left Greg out. Greg was jealous. But there is a world of difference between that and watching over me at a distance after he slaughtered my parents.” The look in Steffi’s eyes was anguished. “And what happened at the end of the recording? It went quiet, and then Greg cried out. He said ‘no.’ Then it sounded like Walter left. What did that mean?”

  “We’ll probably never know.” Bryce kept his voice gentle. “Only two people were in the room when that recording was made. Greg is dead, and we’re not going to see Walter again. Not until the trial.” Steffi’s chin came up sharply at that. The troubled look in her eyes was replaced by a militant sparkle, and Bryce got a glimpse of her thoughts. He didn’t like what he was seeing. “Steffi...”

  “You said it yourself. Only two people know what happened, and we can’t ask Greg.”

  “And we sure as hell aren’t going to ask Walter.” When she didn’t respond, he ground out a frustrated groan. “You can’t seriously intend to confront him again. That recording is a cast-iron confession. All we have to do is hand it over to the police and Walter is history. They have him for the murder of your parents, and for Greg and Bliss. You will be cleared of any involvement.”

  “I might be cleared, but I wouldn’t have the answers to my questions. Walter said he made me, Bryce.” Steffi’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I need to know what he meant by that. Did he make me into a successful movie star? I’ve always wondered where my parents got the money to send me to the best performing arts school in the country. They didn’t earn much, but I always had the best of everything.”

  “Don’t parents always try to give their kids the best they can? I know mine did.” Bryce felt like a man who was attempting to fight an unstoppable force. He got the feeling Steffi was determined to confront Walter, with or without him. He might not like the direction in which this was heading, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it alone.

  “You don’t understand. June and Todd gave me things that were way out of their league. When I was a child, I got the most expensive toys. Then, when I was in my teens, it was designer clothes. I was the kid everyone envied, even though I wasn’t into labels. On my seventeenth birthday, I got the keys to a sports car that would have cost my father several years’ salary.”

  “Didn’t you ever question it?”

  “I tried once or twice.” Steffi bit her lip. “But we didn’t really do heart-to-heart conversations.”

  A family in which talking to each other didn’t come easy was something Bryce didn’t recognize. He could have told his own parents anything and asked them any questions. Now, if he needed to, he could take his problems to either of his brothers. Even when things were tough between him and Vincente, hadn’t he always known deep down that his brother would be there for him? And it worked both ways. There had been a
time, not so long ago, when Vincente had infuriated Bryce beyond reason. Even so, if his half brother had asked him for help, Bryce would have dropped everything and gone to his aid.

  Yet you’ve shut them out of the most important conversation of all. That annoying little voice spoke up at the back of his mind, refusing to be silenced. They know you have been hurting since Afghanistan, but you won’t let them in. You haven’t allowed them to be there to support you.

  He silenced that voice. This wasn’t about him; it was about Steffi. He tried one final attempt at talking her out of a confrontation with Walter. “It sounds to me like the people you need answers from are your adoptive parents.”

  “I was planning to call on them on my way to visit Walter.” She regarded the cell phone he had placed on the locker next to the bed as if it was a coiled snake. “Why do you suppose Greg hid the cell phone that night?”

  The abrupt change of subject caught Bryce off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “Why that night? Why not as soon as he made the recording?” Steffi picked up the cell phone. “Did Greg know Walter was coming after him? Was that why he sent me the message and left the cell phone in Bliss’s apartment?” She raised troubled eyes to Bryce’s face. “There were two suitcases in Greg’s apartment the day he was killed. Maybe Bliss wasn’t the only one going to Africa. Greg said he had something to tell me. We’ve assumed it was about the recording. What if he also wanted to let me know he was going away?”

  “There may be some clues in his phone,” Bryce said. “We know he sent Walter a copy of the recording. Maybe there were other communications between them.”

  Steffi automatically handed the phone to him. It was as if she felt the device might scald her if she held on to it for too long. Accessing a dead man’s messages didn’t feel comfortable, but Bryce decided the need to find out what had happened took precedence over the protection of Greg’s privacy.