Maybe he deserved to suffer, but it wouldn’t be here.
He eased the window closed. A freezing wet wind blowing through the house would be sure to wake everyone in the house up fast. Derek needed the biggest lead he could get. The best scenario would be if he wasn’t missed until morning.
He inched his way to the edge of the roof. His sneakers slid on wet shingles. He spread his arms and regained his balance. Whew. Close one. Ignoring the ten-foot drop to the ground, he wiped his face and eyed his next move. Without the sleet, the low branch of a mature oak tree was an easy leap. Slippery surfaces would make his escape more of a challenge. But there was no going back now. Derek jumped. His rubber soles skidded on the slick bark. He threw his upper body forward. His stomach hit the fat branch and knocked the wind from him. As his lungs struggled for air, his hands scrambled for a hold. He teetered for a moment, and then his body stilled. He swung a leg up and over. The movement of his body shook water droplets from the bare limbs overhead. They rained down on him in an icy shower.
Straddling the branch, he scanned the house behind him. All seemed quiet. The windows were still dark.
Satisfied his exit hadn’t woken anyone, he inched his way to the trunk and shimmied to the ground. The impact jarred his frozen bones. The sleet was light but steady. His jacket and sneakers would be soaked before long.
Nothing he could do about that. The bad weather had its benefits. Derek scanned the sky. Thick cloud cover kept the neighborhood nice and dark. This place was a little farther outside of town than Derek’s house. The lots were bigger, the homes more spread out.
He jogged around the side of the property. Overgrown evergreen bushes lined the edges of the driveway. No one would see him from the house once he ran into the shadows. He breathed a sigh of relief and slowed to a walk once he reached his goal. He reached the end of the drive and turned left on the street.
A hand slapped over his mouth as someone grabbed him from behind. He was jerked backward against a tall, hard body. An arm wrapped around his ribs and lifted him off his feet. Derek kicked, panic giving his movements a frenzied randomness. One sneaker caught his assailant on the leg. The blow had no effect. The guy didn’t flinch or grunt. Nothing. Derek was tossed into the backseat of a dark sedan with no more difficulty than handling a bag of groceries. The door slammed. The locks came down.
Derek was trapped.
Ignoring the security guards and the older man in the expensive suit, Ethan’s eyes locked on Abby, sitting on a leather sofa. On the table in front of her, a tray of food and an unopened bottle of wine made a casual and intimate late-night meal. Jealousy burned a path through Ethan’s chest and spread through his limbs until his entire body felt like it was on fire.
“I didn’t lie about anything,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Right.” Bitterness tasted like bile in Ethan’s throat.
The old guy in the fancy suit stepped in between them. Was this Abby’s older man?
“I don’t know who you are, but you will explain yourself immediately. It’s late. Abby is exhausted, and I’m running out of patience.”
Ethan jerked his attention to the suit. He looked familiar. In his midsixties, he was frail-thin, not fit-thin. His eyes were a soulless black. Despite his aged state, the old man was a killer, pure and simple. This was a man who would flinch at nothing. Violent, heartless deeds had left their imprint in his eyes.
This was the older man Abby had had an affair with? The guy practically had mobster tattooed on his forehead.
The guard who’d emptied Ethan’s pockets in the elevator walked to the table and set his badge and gun on the glass. “This is Officer Ethan Hale.”
The old man spoke to Abby. “You brought a policeman here?”
The cold anger in his tone sent a sliver of fear through Ethan’s anger. He couldn’t let the old man hurt Abby, even if she had betrayed his trust. “No. She had no idea I followed her.”
The old man nodded. One member of the security team faded to stand against the wall. The other exited, Ethan assumed to take a post on the other side of the door.
The old man held out a hand to Ethan. “Ryland Valentine.”
Holy freaking shit.
No wonder he looked familiar. Tycoon. Mobster. Whatever label you wanted to hang on him, Ryland Valentine was a serious BFD. Sporadic racketeering, drug dealing, and murder investigations on Ryland magically melted like ice cubes in August. Maybe his fancy suit was coated with Teflon. Ethan had never seen him in person, and the last time Ryland had been in the media spotlight was several years ago. He’d been heavier. Ethan supposed aging was the one thing Ryland couldn’t buy or bully his way out of.
And Abby had been one of his…? Ethan tried to block the mental image as he stared her down. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him.”
“I’ve never told anyone about him.” Abby closed her eyes for two seconds. When she opened them, she looked to Valentine. “I changed my mind. I’d love a scotch.”
Valentine went to a small bar and poured her a generous shot of amber liquid from a decanter. He didn’t offer Ethan a drink.
She took a sip and a deep breath. “My relationship with Ryland isn’t public information.”
“I’m hardly the public,” Ethan said. Had anything between them been real? Or had he been duped? “But seriously, isn’t he a little old for you?”
Her jaw dropped. “You think…?”
Ethan ground his molars. “Was it the money or the power?”
Ryland barked out a surprised laugh. He returned to the bar, refreshed his drink, and poured another. He handed Ethan the tumbler. “Now I understand.”
What. The. Hell?
Easing into a white leather chair, he raised his glass to Abby. “Do you want to tell him or should I?”
Her brows drew together. “Is it all right with you?”
Ryland lifted a hand. “Go ahead. Your Officer Hale isn’t a threat to me.”
Ethan wasn’t following the conversation, but for some reason he resented not being considered a threat.
Abby held her glass in both hands. Her eyes met Ethan’s. “Ryland is my father.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Abby waited for Ethan’s reaction. His gaze darted back and forth between her and her father.
Ryland set his glass down on the table. “We don’t look much alike. Abby looks exactly like her mother.” His eyes softened. “She was beautiful and blonde as well.”
“I came here to ask for Ryland’s help.” Abby took another tiny sip of scotch. The liquid warmed her throat and stilled the turmoil in her belly.
“You shouldn’t have taken off like that.” Ethan still looked shell-shocked by her news.
Abby didn’t apologize. “I’m desperate. Ryland can do things you can’t. He doesn’t always play by the rules.” The jab at Ethan left a foul taste in her mouth. She washed it away with scotch.
“That’s not fair.” Ethan’s jaw jutted. “I didn’t have any choice.”
“I know,” Abby admitted. “But the fact stands that Derek is in foster care, it’s my fault, and you can’t help.”
“I’m doing everything I can, including wasting time chasing you to Atlantic City.”
Ryland snapped to attention. “Derek? Foster care. Do you have a child?”
“No. Derek is my neighbor’s son. The man who tried to kill me twice started a relationship with Derek’s mother so that he could watch me. He was stalking me from the house next door.” Abby shivered. Sleeping had been difficult before. How would she ever close her eyes again? “I think he took my neighbor with him when he ran. I’m worried he’ll hurt her or go after Derek. They’ve seen his face. They can identify him. If he’s arrested and tried, they could testify against him.”
“We no longer need Derek or his mother to establish his identity.” Ethan
put his glass down and paced the carpet in front of the coffee table. “His fingerprints were in the system. We know who he is.”
Abby sat up. “Who?”
Ethan addressed Ryland. “Do you know Joe Torres?”
“No.” Ryland motioned to the silent man by the door. The guard nodded and slipped out of the office. “We will know everything about him shortly.”
Abby rolled her glass between her palms. Light swirled gold in the scant amount of liquid left in her glass. “Did Torres kill Faulkner and Detective Abrams? If so, then why? If not, then who did?”
“Other than being established criminals, is there any relationship between Torres and Faulkner?” Ethan pivoted, took three steps, and turned again. He swept both hands through his hair. Frustration pulsed from his ever-moving body. “Since Abby has never heard of either of them, did the same person hire them both to kill her?”
Ryland’s man came back into the room. Ryland got up and met him at the door. The guard murmured in his boss’s ear. Ryland turned back to Abby and Ethan. “Excuse me. I have to make a call.”
The only sound in the room was the soft scuff of Ethan’s boots in the carpet.
Abby tossed back the remaining mouthful of scotch. Her empty tumbler clinked as she set it on the glass table. The liquor melted her inhibitions. She raised her chin and followed Ethan’s lean body as he stalked back and forth across the office. “I’m sorry I took off.”
Ethan stopped. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you and Derek about social services.”
“I know you had to call them.” Fear ate through the scotch. Was Derek OK? Where was Krista? “Besides identifying Torres, is there any other news?”
Ethan glanced at his phone and shook his head. “The chief will message me if anything happens.”
Their eyes met, and Abby wanted nothing more than to hurl herself into his arms. But more than a few feet of carpet separated them now. Would he forgive her for her outburst about Derek? For not telling him about her father? For running to Atlantic City? For a man like Ethan, her lack of trust would hurt the most. As it should. When she’d left, Abby hadn’t seen any other choice. But now that he’d followed her, she realized she’d been wrong.
Horribly, nauseatingly wrong.
Ryland walked briskly back into the room. “Torres is a local lowlife, much like Faulkner. Given their proximity, it’s possible they were both hired by the same party.”
“Do you have any idea who that could be?” Abby asked.
“No,” Ryland lied. His body language had shifted from casual to take-charge. He had a plan and wasn’t including Abby or Ethan in it. Not a surprise. “What will you do now?”
“Go back to Westbury and try to find Torres and Krista.” Ethan nodded toward his badge and gun, still lying on the table. “May I?”
“Of course,” Ryland said. “You are both exhausted. You should grab a few hours of sleep and a meal before you drive back.” He turned to Abby. “And you shouldn’t drive back alone. It isn’t safe.” Dark eyes flickered to Ethan for a second. “I’ll put a car and driver at your disposal or have your rental car driven to your house. Your choice.”
Abby was too damned tired to be annoyed with Ryland’s orders. She put a hand to the dull throb in her forehead. She should have opted for another espresso instead of scotch. The effect of the single shot had been amplified by her empty belly. “Maybe some food would help wake me up.”
“I could eat,” Ethan admitted, pressing a hand to his stomach.
“A suite is at your disposal.” Ryland walked to Abby. He held out a hand. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. He wrapped her in a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you came to me.”
“Thank you.” She leaned into him for a second. When she was a child, she would have given anything to have received this affection from him. Why was he offering it now? What had changed?
The suite was on the same floor. The huge living room and dining room combination was decorated in the same contemporary style as Ryland’s office. Multiple bedrooms and a kitchenette opened off the main space.
“The kitchen is stocked with beverages and snacks. Room service will bring you whatever you like.” The guard exited.
And they were alone.
Abby dropped her coat and purse on a chair and walked across the room. She stared out the wall of glass at the turbulent ocean that stretched into the darkness.
“Ryland is up to something,” Ethan said.
“I know,” Abby agreed. “Whatever it is, there isn’t anything we can do to stop him, and he won’t do anything to hurt me.”
“You trust him?”
“To tell the truth? No. But I don’t think he’d deliberately hurt me.” Abby put a hand on the window. The glass was cold under her palm. “My experiences with Ryland were mostly full of disappointment and neglect, but no fear.”
“You should have told me you were his daughter.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” she said. “Everyone knows what he is.”
Possible indictments used to make the news every few years. Though lately, Ryland had kept a low profile.
“How old were you when you found out?” he asked.
“I’ve always known he was my father, but I was never allowed to say. Plus, it wasn’t until I was older that I realized the full implications of what it meant.” The pain welled up as fresh as when she was a child. “He and my mother always claimed it was for my own safety, but that was only part of it. He has a wife and two sons, and he didn’t want to destroy his perfect family by admitting he had an illegitimate child.” Abby paused for a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said.
“When I was a child, he’d visit us a few times a year. He gave her money, always cash. I’d get a small present, but he kept his distance. He’d spend the night, and she would stay in bed for days afterward.”
“She loved him?”
“Until the kidnapping.” Abby choked on her next breath. She swallowed her bitterness. “When I was kidnapped, my mother went to him and asked him to find me. He refused to intervene, and the police botched the case. Mom never spoke to him again. She overdosed a month after the trial. The stress was too much.”
“I’m sorry.” Ethan’s voice was hoarse.
Abby shrugged. “Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d have been a target all my life if my paternity was public knowledge. Maybe someone found out I’m his daughter and is trying to kill me because of something to do with his business.” How much could she share? “Ryland is shedding the illegal portions of his portfolio. He implied his business partners in those ventures are unhappy with him.”
“Do you have any idea who his enemies are?”
“No. He’s never shared anything about his life with me. I’ve only been to this casino once. After my mother overdosed, I told him I never wanted to see him again.” Abby leaned her forehead on the cool glass. She could see Ethan’s reflection in the window. His posture was tense, his hands fisted at his sides. “He is one of the reasons I moved away. I wanted to start over. I wanted to forget he was my father.” She closed her eyes. “Ryland is a powerful man who chose to let me suffer rather than take the chance his affair with my mother would be revealed.”
Ethan moved closer, silently eliminating the distance between them.
“You don’t know how much I didn’t want to come here and ask him for help.” Ryland’s old betrayal still burned deep in Abby’s soul. “When I was a child and they took me to a foster home, I kept waiting for him to come and get me. I thought he’d swoop in and take me home, make me a part of his other family. He never did.”
“What do you think he’s doing?” Ethan asked.
Even though they weren’t touching, she could sense his body behind her. More than anything, she wanted him to touch her. Her desire transcended sexuality. She wanted the intimacy they’d
shared, the soul-deep bond she’d never felt for another person.
And she needed to give him the trust he deserved, the piece of her she’d held back.
“I don’t know. I hope he’s looking for Torres and Krista. He might be cleaning up his business now, but I’m sure he still has plenty of contacts on the wrong side of the law. If anyone can find a criminal, it’s Ryland.”
Ethan put a tentative hand on her arm. She leaned into him, and his arms came around her.
“I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Unshed tears stung the corners of Abby’s eyes.
“It’s all right. I should have warned Derek, but I wanted him to finish with the artist. I was afraid if he knew he was going into a foster home, we’d lose an important piece of evidence that could help find his mother.” Ethan turned her to face him. His eyes were misty. “I was trying to help him.”
“I know. I lost it when that woman took Derek away.” Abby trembled. “I know exactly how scared and alone he felt when she put him in the back of the car.” Exhaustion and emotions buckled her knees.
Ethan scooped her into his arms and carried her to the closest bedroom. He set her on the bed. He tossed his jacket across the bottom of the bed, placed his gun on the nightstand, and stretched out next to her. “I don’t know how to convince you that you really can trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you. I drove half the night because I was insane with fear that something was going to happen to you.”
Abby slipped off her boots. “My heart trusts you, but my head has been conditioned not to trust anyone.” She leaned against his chest and closed her eyes.
“Next time, talk to me, all right?” Ethan rested his chin on the top of her head. “No running off alone. Promise?”
“Promise. I’m so glad you’re here.” Abby nestled closer, grateful for his presence.
He rolled to his side and draped an arm over her.
She welcomed the reassuring weight of it. “Don’t let me sleep more than a half hour, OK?”
“Just a quick power nap.” Ethan lifted his upper body. He set the alarm on his phone, turned up the ringer volume, and settled back into place.
She Can Hide (She Can Series) Page 22
