by Debra Webb
And yet, his own need for absolute certainty required that he take no chances.
Howard Stephens had played right into his hands. His every move had been choreographed from the very be ginning by Cole himself.
Cole had spent his adult life doing this kind of work. He never failed. Once he outlined a scenario, things never failed to fall into place. Heath Murphy's resistance to accept the assignment, his very past had been factored into the profile.
Then there was Jayne, the daughter. She too had reacted exactly as Cole had estimated.
He smiled.
The game was over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Heath didn't move a muscle.
"Put the gun down, Jayne," he suggested quietly.
"Tell me," she demanded, her voice quavering, "the truth."
Her hand shook and Heath swallowed hard. He couldn't be sure the weapon's safety was still engaged. To his knowledge Jayne had no experience with handguns, but he wasn't absolutely certain. Some of her mountain rescue buddies could have shown her the basics.
He drew in a steadying breath and held out his hands in a let's-stay-calm gesture. "I don't know what's happened since we made love in that bed this morning," he inclined his head in the direction of the tangled sheets "but whatever it is, it's wrong."
"I know who you are." She blinked rapidly. God, she was going to cry. Regret sliced through him. "But I want to hear the truth from you," she added tightly. "Why did you come here?"
The way Heath saw it he had two choices. He could keep lying to her and take his chances with her marksmanship or he could tell her the truth and…well, basically risk the same. He was screwed either way.
But none of that mattered.
The only thing that mattered was the way she looked at him right now. The way her eyes glittered with tears. He'd hurt her and nothing he said or did would change that. But he had to try. The idea that this was only the tip of the iceberg banded around his chest making a deep breath impossible.
Obviously they were still in the apartment alone since her father had not put in an appearance. Still, the son of a bitch had contacted her somehow.
"I am Heath Murphy," he told her, letting his hands fall to his sides.
Anger tightened her lips into a bitter line.
"I'm an investigator for the Colby Agency, a private investigations firm in Chicago."
"Why are you here?" she repeated, her voice a little stronger now. But her hands still visibly shook.
Damn, he had to talk her into putting down that weapon or someone was going to get hurt. "Look, Jayne, I know you want answers, but I really need you to put the gun down. You know I won't hurt you."
Her eyes widened with a mixture of fear and fury. "That's just it," she shouted, all semblance of calm evaporating. "I don't know anything. Now, tell me the real truth! All of it," she added before taking a deep, halting breath.
To his extreme relief she lowered the weapon's barrel slightly. At least now if it went off it wasn't as likely to be lethal.
That could very well change with his next statement.
"I'm investigating your father, Howard Stephens."
She flinched but didn't actually look startled.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes and blew out a heavy breath. Whatever her father's side of this had been, Heath knew with complete certainty that she was not prepared for what he was about to share with her. "Let me get dressed and I'll tell you everything."
She shook her head. "Don't move, just talk."
Now or never. He had to know just how serious she was. He couldn't risk that she was simply buying time until her father showed up. If he was lucky Danes would be watching via the monitors and would take some sort of action if Stephens made an appearance with Heath in a vulnerable position.
He leveled his gaze on hers. She flinched again. The reaction was like a sucker punch to the gut, because this time it was about him…not her father or the investigation. She didn't want him to look at her. That hurt more than he could have estimated. This situation was totally out of control. His objectivity had gone into the toilet. What the hell. He was standing here naked and disarmed. He had nothing else to lose.
"Do what you have to do, Jayne, but I'm getting dressed. We'll talk then."
Heath turned his back on her and walked into the bathroom. He didn't close the door, just pulled on his clothes and boots without looking back. He ran his fingers through his hair, drew in a fortifying breath and deliberately returned to the bedroom where she waited. The look of devastation that had now claimed her face twisted in his chest, made him want to beat the hell out of Cole Danes and put a bullet in her father's head.
Her father had done this to her.
Cole Danes had added salt to the wound.
Leaving Heath with no way to make it right.
She sat on the edge of the bed now, still clutching the weapon like a rock pick on a slippery ledge.
He sat down in a chair next to her dresser. "I'll tell you the truth but you're not going to like it."
She lifted her chin in defiance of his statement and those big green eyes stared expectantly at him but he could see the hurt quivering just beneath the surface. She'd trusted him and he'd let her down.
Damn his job.
Damn him for letting this get personal.
He was as guilty as Danes or her father.
"Your father isn't in the CIA as you believe. He never was."
A flicker of uncertainty moved across her expression, but she quickly banished it.
When she didn't comment, he continued, "He did work for the military about twenty years ago but he faked his own death so he could disappear."
"That's insane," she countered. Her fingers tightened on the butt of the weapon. "My mother told me about the money the government deposited in her bank account each month. If he wasn't in the military or CIA all those years then why did they pay him? How could he call home or visit if he was pretending to be dead. That's just crazy."
She would cling to any thread of hope as long as possible, but time was running out. If her father showed up…Heath couldn't take that risk.
"Death benefits," he explained. "The government thought he died in the line of duty. They still believe he's dead. Why do you think you're not allowed to talk about him? This is why he wants you to tell anyone who asks that he's dead. Because, to the rest of the world, he is. You're the only one who knew…until a few days ago."
"That's to protect him against people like you," she argued, her words accusing. A lone tear streaked down her cheek. She scrubbed it away, her lips trembling with renewed fury. "People who want to hurt him."
"Your father faked his death and went to work for a man named Leberman."
She went abruptly still. "Leberman?" she repeated.
"Do you recognize that name?"
She blinked then glared at him. "I…No."
Heath tensed. Something about the name was familiar to her whether she wanted to admit it or not. "Leberman operated a team of mercenaries, your father was one of them. Still is, only now he's the one in charge. They get paid to assassinate people. People whose only crime is being targeted by some scumbag who wants to profit somehow from their death. The list of crimes is long, Jayne. Including kidnapping and torturing a child."
She shook her head, her whole body shuddering at his words. "I don't believe you," she argued vehemently.
"His name was Jim Colby. He was taken from his family home eighteen years ago." Heath leaned forward and pressed her with his gaze, needing this next part to hit home particularly hard. He had to get through to her.
"This seven-year-old child was kept in a house in Oak Park, in the basement. The torture was relentless."
The color of rage drained from her face. "You're making this up." Some of the conviction had gone out of her voice this time.
Heath straightened. "Why would I do that?"
"To get to my father."
He nodded. "That part's t
rue. My goal is to get to your father. He has to pay for his crimes and he may have additional information about what happened to the Colby child."
"Is…" She licked her lips. "Is the boy dead?"
Heath shook his head slowly and moved a step in her direction. "No. He's alive. But he's badly scarred, mentally and physically. Your father helped Leberman destroy his life." He stole another step toward her. "There were many, many others who didn't survive. There will be more unless he's stopped."
She lowered the weapon. Dropped her hand to her lap and stared down at it.
He couldn't bear the despair shrouding her. He had to go to her. He crouched in front of her and reached for her hand. She drew it away. "Jayne, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I know he's your father and that you love him, but you have to believe me."
Her gaze jerked to his. "Why should I believe anything you say?"
"There's no way I would hurt you with these kinds of accusations if they weren't true." He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and she recoiled from his touch. He refused to give up. He had to make her believe him. "Last night meant something to me. You have to trust me. I'm trying to help you. I'm afraid of what your father might do when he learns that you know the truth."
She offered the gun to him and stood. "Get out." She pointed to the door. "I don't ever want to see you again." She pivoted away from him before he could stop her and escaped to the bathroom.
"Wait. Jayne, please."
She hesitated at the door and glared back at him, then moved her head firmly from side to side. "Go. The only thing I want to do right now is wash the lies off my skin."
She slammed the door, shutting him out. He heard the lock slide into place.
He tucked the weapon into his waistband at the small of his back and reached for his jacket. He had to call Danes. A small object in his peripheral vision snagged his attention. He crossed the room to take a closer look.
The surveillance camera.
Within seconds he'd discovered that she had destroyed all five devices. Her father had contacted her and told her exactly what to look for and where to look.
He'd been here—inside this apartment—since Heath's arrival.
Why the hell hadn't Danes warned him?
* * *
JAYNE HUNKERED IN THE shower, the tears would not stop. Her body shook so hard she could scarcely breathe.
None of this could be true. Her father wouldn't have done those things.
Heath…oh, God. How could he do this to her?
She'd scrubbed her skin until it felt raw.
She drew in a shuddering breath but couldn't man age to get enough air into her lungs.
She pressed her forehead to her knees and inhaled slowly, deeply, once, twice, three times. She couldn't hide in here forever. She had to get dressed and get to work, had to pull herself together.
That was the one thing she could count on. Her work. Her friends here in Aspen—Rafe and Walt and the others—they were all she needed. She didn't need Heath or her father.
Her father was never around anyway. Fury tightened her lips.
Memories of the way her mother had grieved tumbled one over the other into her mind. She'd talked of his desertion. Of how he had loved his work more than her or Jayne.
But Jayne had always pretended that he loved them too much and that that was why he'd stayed away.
She thought of her childhood home in Oak Park. Of the terrifying basement she'd only dared to visit once. Her father had taken her down there and told her never, ever to go down there again. That it wasn't safe.
Leberman.
She didn't know why the name felt familiar to her, but somehow it did. She shut off the cooling water and concentrated hard. Had she heard her father talking to someone named Leberman? Had her father mentioned the name? Or maybe she'd encountered someone at college or in her work with that name. She just couldn't re member.
But one memory stood out in her mind so vivid that it took her breath every time she dared let it creep into her consciousness.
The little boy.
She remembered a boy, maybe the same age as her at the time…six or seven.
Her father had gone away after she'd seen him with the boy. Her life had changed forever. She and her mother had abruptly moved from their home and never looked back. All the way to California.
Why had she never thought of that boy again…until now?
Leberman.
A cold hard fist of panic slammed into her stomach.
Her father had said the boy was Leberman's son. She remembered that now.
Wait.
Her heart fluttered, sending a new rush of emotion to her stinging eyes.
She shook her head.
She wasn't sure about that.
Maybe she was confusing her vague memories. Maybe part of her wanted so desperately for Heath to be the real thing that she was turning her father into a monster.
Wouldn't her mother have told her about any of this? Jayne had been just a child, but her mother would have recognized the lies…wouldn't she?
Or maybe, like Jayne, she hadn't wanted to see.
Jayne jerked the shower curtain back and climbed out of the tub. She didn't want to think about this anymore. Heath was a stranger. One who had lied to her repeatedly. Had used her. How could she possibly believe anything he told her? What kind of fool did he think she was? Her father couldn't be the monster he portrayed him to be. That simply wasn't possible. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced away the nagging voices that suggested otherwise.
She had a life. She had to get back to it.
Maybe she would be better off if she never heard from Heath or her father ever again.
Forcing a calm she didn't feel, she dressed for work and gathered her gear. She hissed a curse when she glanced at the clock. There was no more time to dawdle. Walt would likely be wondering where she was. None of this was about her. She had to remember that, shove it away. To hell with Heath Murphy and to hell with her father. Let them figure out this insanity.
Her arms loaded with her gear she moved to the living room in search of her boots.
Heath sat on the sofa.
A new blast of anger bolted through her. "I thought I told you to leave."
"I can't."
She rolled her eyes and threw her gear, onto the floor. Dammit she'd had enough. "Get out now before I call the sheriff."
Heath stood but made no move toward the door. "Finding your father isn't the only reason I was sent here," he said firmly. "I'm here to protect you from him. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Her mouth dropped open and she made a sound of disbelief. "What's your game now, Murphy? Do you think you can frighten me and I'll pretend you didn't lie to me? That you didn't have sex with me just to get close to me so you could find my father? You keep talking about the truth, well I know the truth. The truth is you started flirting with me right from the beginning, I was just too stupid to see it." She flung her arms outward. "This whole thing was just a game—a ploy—to help you get what you wanted! Well, I don't want any part of it."
Heath closed his eyes for a moment before he responded. She wanted to hit him. The urge was very nearly irresistible. She hugged her arms around herself and fought off another wave of knee-buckling emotion. Dammit. How could he still make her feel this way? Make her feel drawn to him? After all he'd done.
"I didn't have sex with you to get close to your father," he said softly. "I made love to you because I wanted you more than anything I've ever wanted in my life."
Her pager sounded, the ominous tones jerking her attention down to her waist.
She turned away from Heath and grabbed the phone, automatically punching in the numbers. "What's up?" she asked crisply.
"Jayne." Walt's voice. "We need everyone to come in ASAP. It's a bad one."
"I'm on my way." She depressed the Off button and pitched the phone onto the nearest chair.
"What's going on?"
She
leveled her gaze on Heath. "Mountain rescue's been called out. I have to go." She held up her hand when he would have moved toward her. "I told you to go. Don't come near me again."
She jerked on her parka and boots and gathered her gear.
Heath still stood there, watching her, when she'd finished.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he warned. "I told you that I came here to protect you and that's what I'm going to do."
"Get out of my way."
He stepped aside but followed when she walked out the door. She ignored him, just kept moving forward. If she'd hesitated for a single second she might…she just might have let herself be stupid enough to believe him.
"Be careful out there, Jayne," Rafe called to her as she passed through the bar. Rafe's scanner had likely already warned him of whatever incident had occurred.
"I always am," she tossed back without looking his way. If he got a look at her face he would know something was going on and she just didn't have time to deal with that right now.
Lives were at stake.
She had to focus.
* * *
THE MOUNTAIN RESCUE headquarters on Main Street was crawling with activity when they arrived. Heath had followed Jayne in his rental since she refused to let him ride with her. Not that he could blame her.
Two county sheriff's deputies and more than a dozen mountain rescue volunteers were already on site. Walt Messina was outlining the search area on a topographic map.
Capitol Peak.
Not good.
Heath had never climbed, other than his little trek with Jayne, in this area, but he'd heard of that peak. It meant several things to him. High elevation, rugged terrain, tough going even in summer months. Those most likely to attempt such a climb would be skilled; if they couldn't get back down there were injuries or worse. The situation would be dire.
"Why can't the chopper just drop us in on this ridge?" Jayne pointed to a place on the map.
Paul Rice spoke up, "Us would not include you, Jayne," he said flatly. "You're on light duty."
She wheeled on him. "My ankle doesn't even hurt," she protested.
"That may be," he allowed, "but that doesn't mean it'll hold up under this kind of physical strain."
