Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set

by Addison Fox, Cindy Dees, Justine Davis

  There would be a record of the entry, but he hoped this would be over by the time anyone thought to look. Unless she’d put a watch on it, of course, and the alarm company had instructions to call her at any unscheduled entry. He could only hope she hadn’t thought of that and get himself out of here in a hurry.

  Ashley’s drawing of the layout was as accurate as the code had been. He tried not to dwell on what that might mean and focused on the task at hand. A minute later he was upstairs and at the door to her bedroom. He paused in the act of reaching for the knob. Looked back over his shoulder at the two other doors in this hallway. Saw that they were a rustic, iron style that matched the rest of the hardware in the house. But this knob was round, shiny, brass, and looked brand-new. His brow furrowed, then cleared as he understood it had probably been changed so Ashley could not lock the door. Her mother would want to be able to check on her. With a shake of his head at having to live that way, he opened the door.

  For a moment he just stood there. The rest of the house looked like something out of an interior decorating magazine: fancy furniture and accessories, all color coordinated, carefully placed and likely expensive things on display, and the kitchen had looked like the set of a cooking show. All of it was way too elegant for his casual taste and seemed to him out of place here in the mountains.

  But here, in Ashley’s room, it all changed. He was willing to bet there was more color and personality in this single bedroom than in the entire rest of this house. Not so much in the walls or furniture, which matched the rest of the house, but in the art on the walls, photographs of wildlife that frequented these mountains, from a dramatic wolf in the shadows of the trees to a less dramatic banana slug, and including a shot of a river otter that could be a twin to the one that occasionally hung out in his own backyard. And what he thought of as a touch of humanity in the shoes kicked off on the floor, the jacket—the green one he’d seen her wearing the day of the crash but that she had not put on that night, because her distressed mind had told her she soon wouldn’t be feeling cold, or anything else—tossed over the back of the chair by the window, the book left at an odd angle on the nightstand next to the bed. The bed he had been trying not to look at.

  It was tossed, the covers looking as if they’d been kicked aside after a restless night. As if she had tried to sleep, given up…and decided to kill herself instead. He had wondered if he would feel some kind of sexual jolt at the sight of her bed, if he would start imagining her in it, imagine joining her in it, as he’d done more than once at Alex’s place. But all he could think of was how desperate she had been that night, and it made him ache inside in an entirely different way.

  Get moving, Crenshaw.

  He crossed over to a closed door and pulled it open. It was a small walk-in closet, tidy, the only sign of haste a couple of hangers that were at an angle. He closed the door and quickly crossed the room to the second door that opened into the room. The bathroom was tidy as well, towels hung neatly, and on a hook on the back of the door the sweatshirt he’d seen her in that day he’d come by and been shocked by her appearance. It was hard to believe she was the same woman, so far removed from that was she now.

  There was only a comb lodged in a hairbrush on the counter. Everything else—lotions, hair clips, makeup, a couple of things he didn’t recognize—was on a tray to one side. He only noted this in passing, because he was focused on the mirror above the sink, the one that was hinged and clearly the door to the medicine cabinet he was looking for. He reached out, already mentally searching for the standard orange plastic prescription bottle she’d described. The door to the cabinet swung open easily. He looked at the bottom shelf.

  It was empty.

  CHAPTER 26

  “But…it’s always there.”

  Ashley stared down at the phone in her hand, from which Brady’s voice had issued over the link Hayley had activated with the red button, the link that connected them and Quinn and Brady live.

  “The shelf is empty. Only thing in the cabinet is a toothbrush and paste, and little bottle of…some hair stuff.”

  “You’re sure you’re in the right room?”

  “I’m looking at your banana slug. And your jacket’s on the back of the chair by the window.” He recognized her jacket? Trained observer, that’s all. She heard him move over the live connection. “What were you reading?”

  “The first of the…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered she had retreated into a childhood treasure, the first of the tales of a boy with a miserable life who found out he wasn’t who they’d told him he was at all. “A kid’s book,” she ended lamely.

  “It’s okay, Ash. I grew up on them.”

  Her throat tightened fiercely at the gentle understanding in his voice. And at the nickname he’d whispered in the moment before he’d kissed her that first time. The name she hadn’t gone by since her father had used it, despite her mother insisting on the formality of her full name.

  Cutter nudged her hand, and Hayley smiled at her. She swallowed and pulled herself together. “You’re in the right room, then. But the pills should be there.”

  “I’ll check around.”

  She heard the sound of movement, of doors closing, and the sliding of drawers. For a moment it flitted through her mind to worry about whether he’d find anything embarrassing, but it seemed a ridiculous thing to worry about right now. Not that there would be anything, not with the dark, swirling mess her life was right now. And if he found them somewhere else, in some odd place, then it only meant this was a pointless exercise, because it would prove her memory really was malfunctioning.

  “Nothing,” he finally said. “Checked the bathroom and all the drawers in the bedroom.” Well, there you go, Brady Crenshaw digging through your underwear. Somehow that wasn’t nearly as unsettling as she thought it should be.

  “What if it was dropped and rolled?” Hayley asked.

  “Good point. I’ll check the floor.”

  But he came back again a long moment later. “Nothing.”

  “This makes no sense,” Ashley said.

  “Unless they were removed.”

  That was Quinn, and Ashley frowned at the suggestion. And then was even more puzzled when Brady said, “Just what I was thinking.”

  “But why—”

  “Where’s your mother’s room?”

  “The opposite end of the hall, but she wouldn’t take them. Unless…unless she wanted to keep count, track whether I was taking them.”

  “Which you weren’t. Maybe she suspected that. I’ll check.”

  There was more movement, the sound of a door opening. Then Brady’s voice, sounding a bit sour. “You sure a human lives here?”

  Ashley laughed in spite of her nerves. “She is a bit compulsive about neatness.”

  She heard another door, then what sounded like drawers opening, then a pause, then another drawer; she guessed he’d crossed back into the bedroom to check that nightstand. A moment later, the negative came—no sign of the pills in her mother’s room, either. Ashley was utterly confused now. “I don’t understand. There was at least half a bottle left, fifteen pills or more.”

  “Damn,” she heard Brady mutter. “We need to know what those pills really are.”

  “Better clear out of there,” came Quinn’s voice.

  “I’ll check the kitchen cabinets just in case, but yeah, I think—”

  “Wait!” Ashley yelped as a memory hit her.

  “What?” came Brady’s voice.

  “Look, I know this is gross, but it might be the only…go back to my room. I started to take the meds again a week ago, because my mother was pushing. I actually put a pill in my mouth, but changed my mind after she left and spat it out. I tossed it in the wastebasket by the bed. The housekeeper’s been there since, but there was nothing else in there, so she might have missed it.”

  There was
a long, silent moment, some more sounds of movement and then a door, and then, “Got it!” Ashley let out a breath. “Good memory,” Brady added.

  “Well, that’s something I’ve not been accused of lately,” she said rather wryly. “And sorry you had to pick it up when it’s gross—”

  “Not. I’ve tasted your sweet mouth, Ash. Nothing gross about it.”

  Her breath caught. Had he really said that, on this open line where everyone could hear?

  “I see you’ve done it again,” Hayley whispered, and Ashley realized she was talking to Cutter. Who looked rather…smug? Could a dog really look smug?

  “Points to you, Cutter. Again.” That was Quinn, sounding nothing less than amused. He believed this, too, this…matchmaking thing? The ex-military man seemed far too cool and tough for such fanciful thinking.

  But it was only a fleeting thought, because Brady’s simple, almost unbearably touching declaration was expanding inside her until there was no room for anything else.

  * * *

  “Foxworth,” Brady said as he and Quinn came back in the house, “has some pretty cool toys.”

  “Necessities to get the job done,” Quinn corrected, but he was grinning.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Brady said, grinning back.

  “I gather you met Teague?” Hayley said, and her smile was wide. This was clearly a woman who didn’t mind her man buying toys.

  “I think it was more that he met the helicopter and, oh yeah, there’s a pilot,” Quinn quipped.

  Brady shrugged, still grinning. The black helicopter coming in to land at the snowy baseball field just outside town had been quite a sight. And he had been a little boggled by the sleek machine and had only belatedly reacted to its pilot. He’d liked the guy right off, though. Quinn had said Johnson was an ex-marine—if there was such a thing—and he could see it in the other man’s bearing and demeanor.

  He was also clearly a heck of a pilot, setting the thing down without a jolt, even amid the snow he’d set flying. And once more he’d been impressed with Foxworth, not just for the helicopter but because of the fact that Quinn had called for it to pick up one small pill. And had promised they’d have results by tomorrow, if not sooner.

  “Boys and their toys,” Hayley said, so lovingly Brady half expected them to vanish into their bedroom momentarily.

  “And,” Quinn added with a pointed look at his wife, “he and Laney have set a date.”

  Hayley’s smile became one of utter delight. “About time. They’ve been engaged nearly a year. When?”

  “May. And he asked if they could do it at Foxworth.”

  “Perfect! The flowers will be glorious, and we can use the same setup we did for our wedding and—”

  Quinn held up a hand in mock self-defense. “You and Laney can plan your hearts out when we get back.”

  Ashley had gotten very quiet, but then, he had no part in this particular conversation, either. As he’d had none when the other Foxworth…operative, for lack of a better word, had informed his boss of the news. Other than noticing Teague Johnson’s besotted grin and feeling a bit…envious.

  But then she spoke, hesitantly and more than a little wary. “Is this one of… Cutter’s successes?”

  Hayley laughed. “Indeed it is. His…third. Second for a Foxworth person, counting us.”

  Brady’s brow furrowed as he looked at the two women. He had no idea what that was about. Wondered if he was better off that way. Ashley looked at him then, and there was something different in her expression, in her green eyes. But it wasn’t anger, although he’d half expected she’d be mad at him for what he’d said on that open connection. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that Quinn and Hayley were listening. He’d only wanted her to stop sounding so shaky. He hadn’t thought about what he was saying, and admitting.

  Hell, he hadn’t been thinking right since she’d crashed into his life.

  He admitted to himself that she wasn’t the only one on tenterhooks about what the Foxworth analysis of the pills she’d been taking would turn up. Although he did wonder if she had wrapped her mind around what all the implications were. He kind of doubted it, given she’d had so much to deal with in such a short time.

  The only thing he was sure about was he was getting damned tired of keeping himself on a short leash around her. There were guys, he even knew a couple, who would take advantage of her situation, her need for help and comfort, or her mental state to get what they wanted, which would be her in bed. More, they’d walk away afterward whistling happily, without a second thought. He’d never, ever understood that. He’d been told he’d been lucky to have his parents, who had loved each other until the day his father had died and beyond, as an example, but it was more than that. It was something he didn’t analyze but knew was bone-deep in him. You just did not treat another person that way.

  But that did not seem to be helping him stop thinking about doing just that. About kissing that mouth—which had indeed been sweet—again, about kissing every inch of that silken skin, about tangling his fingers in that long fall of dark hair, about feeling it slide over his own skin, and—

  He jerked on that mental leash. Again.

  It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 27

  Ashley sat looking out the big front windows of the cabin into the night. The remains of the fire that had warmed the room during the day still glowed on the hearth, and the room was still comfortably warm where she sat on the end of the couch nearest the big stone fireplace.

  It was a clear night, with a nearly full moon, and outside everything seemed to glow almost eerily. It was cold, she guessed, judging by the way what had been snow melting and running off the eaves had frozen into a jagged yet oddly beautiful line of small icicles.

  She was very aware of what was happening. That her mind was racing in that careening way it always had when she’d been faced with a big problem, from possibility to possibility. This was one of the things the drug—whatever it was—had dulled. And when she’d finally given up on sleep and come out here, she’d been worrying if this meant she really did need the stuff.

  A sound from the hallway made her head snap around. She’d tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to disturb anyone, although Quinn and Hayley’s room was at the back of the house.

  Okay, Brady. You didn’t want to disturb Brady. He’s worried enough about you. And he’s already risking so much.

  Even as she thought it, he came into the room. She drew back, as if this shadowy corner of the room could hide her. And then she froze, unable to breathe, as he stepped into a shaft of that silvery moonlight coming in through the big window.

  He’d just pulled on his jeans, and those were only half zipped, giving her a full view of him down to where a narrow trail of dark hair arrowed downward over abs she’d just known would be rock-hard. With that moonlight pouring over his bare torso, he looked like some Greek statue come to life, powerful, muscled…beautiful.

  She thought she’d smothered her gasp, but clearly not, because he spun around. And clearly his vision was well adapted to the dark, because he spotted her instantly.

  “I thought I heard something,” he said, very quietly.

  “I tried to be quiet. I didn’t want to disturb…anyone.”

  “You were. I almost convinced myself I hadn’t really heard anything.”

  “But you had to be sure,” she said.

  “All things considered, yes.”

  “Afraid I’d sneak out in the night and run?” She hadn’t really meant to say that, didn’t believe it, but he had her so disconcerted, standing there, looking like he looked.

  “No.”

  He said it with a quiet firmness that surprised her. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you have help now. And hope. You’re not alone anymore, Ash, and you won’t give that up easily.”

/>   How on earth had he come to know her so well? The real her, not the woman who had been crumbling to pieces. “No. I won’t.” Then, with a sigh, she said, “No one’s called me that since my dad.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “From you? No. I…like it from you.”

  He smiled at that. She could see it even in the dark. Then he was sitting beside her, and she could more than see him—she could feel him, the heat of him, and smell that impossible scent, that mix that reminded her of sitting outside on the patio here, with the snow-covered pines all around.

  “No matter what we find out, you won’t be alone again, Ash. I promise you that.”

  And this man’s promise, you could take to the bank, as her father used to say. She knew it was true, on some gut level that didn’t need her brain to process—it simply was. And her throat tightened at the fierce gentleness in his voice, at the way he was looking at her, so steadily that she could almost feel it. Even in this shadowy corner, she could see the determination in his face, in the set of his jaw. And the strength to carry it out in the muscle of his body, his arms, his neck, his broad, powerful chest…

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out to brush at her cheek with his thumb. Only then did she realize tears were starting to spill from her eyes. “Don’t, Ash. Please. It’ll be okay. One way or another, it will be okay.”

  She couldn’t seem to stop, and the next thing she knew, he was pulling her into his arms. And with his solid warmth wrapped around her, she found the strength to speak. “It wasn’t that. It’s just…it’s been a long time since I’ve been so sure that someone will keep a promise.”

  He went very still for a moment. She looked up at him, so very, very aware of his bare skin beneath her cheek, aware of her palm pressed to the flat, hard ridges of his belly. She could feel the power of him as if it were suddenly made tangible, and heat blasted through her as she thought of what it would be like if she slid her hand downward, if she caressed that hardened flesh she could feel pressing against her thigh.