No One Left to Tell

by Karen Rose

  No, you can’t. Not unless you plan to keep her. He went still. To keep her meant he’d have to tell her. She needed to know. Then she could leave if she wanted.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered.

  Her eyes changed. The arousal remained, but it was tempered with a tenderness that made his heart hurt. “What do you want to do with me?” she whispered back.

  His body clenched, the breath leaving his lungs in a rush. He touched her cheek, caressing her smooth skin in the way he already knew she liked. “Everything,” he said gruffly, and he knew it was true.

  She continued to study him. “Everything is a lot,” she said quietly.

  He leaned toward her, smelling her hair, finding it soothed the rush of emotions churning inside him. “I know.”

  She closed the distance between them, brushing his lips with hers. “I wish it didn’t make you so sad,” she said. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

  Startled, he stared as she pulled away and resettled herself in her seat. “What’s in your e-mail?” she asked before he could think of a thing to say.

  “What?”

  “Your e-mail. You said you were reading your e-mail.”

  His heart still hurt. His body still wanted her. With difficulty he forced himself to focus. “Stevie and Fitzpatrick found Radcliffe. He voluntarily surrendered Logan’s computer once they showed him the court order. They’ve got the video at the lab, but they’re not hopeful that Logan caught the sniper’s face.”

  “That would be too easy.”

  “That it would. Ballistics tested the gun the detectives found in Sandoval’s car and the gun used to kill Delgado. No obvious connections.”

  “Again, too easy. What about Barb the banker?”

  “Barb came through. She said the account on Crystal’s check register belongs to Brittany Jones.”

  “What? Brittany was blackmailing someone? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Apparently Brittany’s middle name is Amber.”

  “Which is the name Crystal used to get into Rex’s party. She also used Brittany’s name to open the account. Smart actually.”

  “Barb said the account had been active until six months ago. That’s all she could say without a warrant.”

  “So either their mark didn’t find out that Crystal was dead or Brittany renewed the threat,” Paige said thoughtfully. “The girl’s bold.”

  “She continued getting money every month. She just didn’t record it in the register.”

  “That’s also how she could afford to pay fifty grand to St. Leo’s, assuming she got paid what Sandoval did. She used Crystal’s blackmail money for food and rent. I wonder why the payments stopped?”

  “Maybe the mark finally found out Crystal was dead.” Grayson checked his watch. “It’s almost eleven. Let’s visit Brittany.”

  “If the front desk tells her it’s us, she might run. We need a ruse.”

  His lips twitched unexpectedly. “A ruse?”

  One dark brow arched. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Only a little. So, Watson, what shall our ruse be?”

  “Why do you assume you’re Sherlock?” Paige asked.

  “Good point. You can be Sherlock if you want.”

  “If anyone inside recognizes us from that damn news video, we’re stuck being ourselves. If not, I’m her friend from nursing school and you’re my date.”

  My date. It gave him a kind of sophomoric pleasure. “Why do you assume I can’t go to nursing school, too? Now you’re being sexist.”

  “No, now I’m being realistic. Few nursing students could afford a suit like yours.”

  “Plus you just want to be my date,” he said lightly.

  Now it was her eyes that grew sad. “Yes. I would.” Abruptly, she opened her car door. “Let’s go. I want to know how Crystal got that McCloud medallion.”

  The reception area of the nursing home was an institutional white. The front desk was occupied by a woman whose name tag read SUE.

  Paige stopped at the desk. “Hi. Has Brittany Jones come in yet?”

  Sue’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you want with her?”

  “I go to school with her,” Paige said. “I missed a class and she was going to give me some notes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Olivia Hunter.”

  Sue lifted an inquiring brow toward Grayson. “And him?”

  Paige slid her arm around Grayson’s waist proprietarily. “My boyfriend, David.”

  “Ma’am,” Grayson said, wondering at Paige’s choice of names. She might have picked the first ones that came to her mind, but that they were her friends who’d found forever happiness was not lost on him. He put his arm around Paige’s shoulders.

  “Let me see if Brit’s available.” She paged Brittany to come to the front desk, then pointed to a row of vinyl chairs. “You two can wait over there.”

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:20 p.m.

  Silas frowned. He’d known deep down who his target would be, but his anger boiled when he drove past the silver Infiniti parked in the nursing home’s lot. It was Grayson Smith’s car. Silas had no doubt that Paige Holden would be with him.

  It was a goddamn test.

  Which meant his boss was probably nearby, watching him. Asshole.

  But if his boss was nearby… Silas’s rifle had a nightscope. If he could figure out where the bastard was hiding, he could put an end to all of this tonight.

  And then he’d take his family far away. They wouldn’t like it at first. His wife would miss city life and her friends. Violet would miss her school and the toys she’d left behind. But they’d be alive, and together. The rest they’d get used to.

  He cruised to the end of the parking lot, searching the hills beyond. There were a lot of places to hide. If the bastard was up there, he’d be difficult to find. I’ll have to make him come to me. How he’d accomplish that, he wasn’t quite sure. Yet.

  And if he’s got a scope trained on you? That idea was laughable. The bastard couldn’t shoot his way out of a paper bag. That’s why he “hired” me. If the bastard planned to take Silas out, he’d do it up close and personal. Except I’d be ready for him.

  Silas drove his van around the parking lot. No security cameras, which was good. He left the lot. He would not stay here. He didn’t intend to kill Grayson and Paige, but he’d at least make it look like he’d made a well-planned attempt. Once shots were fired, people would come running. There was no way he’d park here.

  He’d seen an access road on his way in. He’d park there and find a place within the trees to set up his shoot.

  He wondered why Grayson Smith was in the nursing home. The man’s mother wasn’t ill. Judy Smith was, in fact, in fine, fine shape. Silas had admired her more than once. Of course he wasn’t that kind of man, even if she’d been that kind of woman.

  She had sacrificed much for her son. From the few times he’d observed them together, Silas got the impression that Grayson fully understood the value of that sacrifice. He also wondered how long it would be before the bastard who believed he owned Silas’s life would spill the Smiths’ secret.

  He wondered if Grayson was aware of just how many people knew who he really was.

  It had never mattered to Silas, but he knew it mattered to Grayson. That’s the kind of man the prosecutor was. When his boss had told Silas the truth about Grayson Smith, the reason for the prosecutor’s zeal had become painfully apparent.

  It had also made Grayson the perfect, unwitting patsy. Join the club, Counselor.

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:35 p.m.

  Paige and Grayson had been waiting a half hour and there was no Brittany Jones to be seen. After calling Brittany’s cell, Sue said Brittany was on her way in, but she’d been delayed. Apparently, she’d had to scramble to find child care for her son. Based on the fact that Brittany had run from her neighborhood, that had made sense. Now Paige wasn’t so sure.

  Sue had begun casting t
hem nervous looks. The last time she’d called Brittany’s cell, she’d turned her back to speak into her phone, hiding her face from them.

  Paige leaned close to Grayson, pressing her lips to his jaw just below his ear. It was part of the ruse, but she took a moment to draw in the scent of him, to savor the tingle of his stubble on her lips. Now that she knew what he’d held so secret all these years, she understood how hard it would be for him to reveal it to anyone.

  She could be patient. Grayson Smith was a man worth the time it would take to find out if the undeniable spark between them could become more.

  He’d knocked anyway. The thought kept playing through her mind. Knowing he’d be revealed, that his life would be forever changed, he’d still knocked on Rex’s door. Because it was the right thing to do.

  She wanted this man. He was handsome. Sexy. Intelligent. Kind when he didn’t have to be. Protective. He had a body that she wanted to explore for hours, then start all over again. But it was his integrity that called to her. This was real. I want him for my own. I want him to want me for the same reason. She wanted him to want her the way David wanted Olivia. I want my turn at happy ever after. I want it with this man.

  She had to swallow her thrumming heart back down to her chest. “Do you think she’s coming?” she whispered in his ear.

  He turned to look at her, his green eyes aroused, full of want. And a yearning she understood because she felt it, too. “I don’t know,” he whispered back, his breath hot against her neck. He brushed his lips over her ear, making her shiver. “See if you can get Sue to give you Brittany’s cell number. We’ll call her ourselves.”

  Paige rose, only to find Sue watching them, clearly interpreting all the physical signals correctly. The receptionist looked at Grayson in a way that made Paige want to claw the woman’s eyes right out of her head.

  Paige glared and Sue blinked innocently. “I’m so sorry,” Sue said, her voice husky. “He’s… You can’t really blame me, you know. It’s pheromones.” She held up her left hand, where a ring glinted in the overhead light. “I’m married. Happily. I promise.”

  Paige chuckled and the tension was broken. “Is Brit really coming in?” she asked, letting herself whine, just a little. “I need those notes, but I’d really rather be doing other things right now than waiting for her. You, um, understand.”

  “Oh yes,” Sue breathed. “Perfectly. I told her that you were waiting. She said she’s coming. That she’s late to begin with is really unusual. She’s so dependable.”

  “I know. That’s why I asked her for the notes. She’s always in class. Look.” Paige lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I have to get up early tomorrow and I really want to get back home and… well, you know. Can I get Brittany’s cell phone number? I can arrange to get the notes tomorrow or maybe she can scan them and e-mail them to me.”

  Sue hesitated. “I really shouldn’t give out her number.”

  “Please?” Paige wheedled. “You have no idea what I’m missing right now.”

  Sue sighed. “I bet he’s every bit as incredible as he looks.”

  He’d knocked anyway. “Better,” Paige told her.

  With another sigh, Sue wrote a phone number on a notepad and handed the sheet to Paige. “Have fun. Maybe you could take some notes and send them to me?”

  Paige chuckled again. “Your heart couldn’t take it.” She turned and gave Grayson a nod. “We’re good. Let’s go home.”

  Grayson stood and the room felt smaller. His eyes rested on her and she felt… hot. Flushed. Claimed. “Anything you say,” he said.

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:45 p.m.

  From his vantage point on the tree-lined hill, Silas watched Grayson and Paige exit the nursing home. They were alone, Grayson’s hand on the small of Paige’s back. That the prosecutor’s hold was proprietary could be seen, even from here. Silas wondered again what they’d been doing there, how it connected to the case. He hoped Grayson would uncover every facet of this crime, down to the involvement of both their bosses.

  Except that Silas needed to be sure his own boss wouldn’t talk. Because prison would be a really unhealthy place for me.

  He put his eye to his rifle sight, brought Grayson into focus as he put Paige into the car. The prosecutor kissed her on her mouth, then lifted his head, like a predator sniffing his prey. Silas guessed he’d become accustomed to looking over his shoulder, at least at one time in his life. Stay vigilant, Grayson. Or you’ll be dead, too.

  Silas shifted the gun a few inches from Grayson’s head and fired, the bullet harmlessly pinging off a light post. Grayson moved fast, barking an order to Paige before disappearing in front of the car. Paige ducked down and the driver’s-side door opened from the inside. Grayson got in and drove like a bat out of hell.

  Good. They’d be on their guard from here on out. And if the boss is here, he saw me try. Silas slowly rotated his body so that he was looking through the sight at the hills, searching for a shadow, falling stones, anything to tell him the bastard’s position.

  One more squeeze of the trigger and his problem would be sol—

  “Don’t move, cop.” Cold steel pushed against the back of his skull.

  Silas froze, his finger still on the trigger. It wasn’t his employer. He didn’t know the voice. It was male. Gravelly and rough. Full of venom. His heart began to beat a little faster. “Who are you?”

  He didn’t wince when the gun barrel shoved harder into his skull. “You have the right to remain silent,” the man said. “Do I sound familiar, cop?”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “That’s because some crackhead busted my larynx when I was in Holding,” he rasped. “Where you put me. Before that, I had the voice of a motherfucking choirboy. Put the goddamn rifle down.”

  There was no way Silas was dropping his weapon. He lowered the rifle a few inches, still keeping his finger on the trigger. “Who sent you?” As if he had to ask.

  Before the man could answer, Silas ducked and spun, knocking the guy’s feet out from under him. The man crashed to the ground and Silas shot both wrists before he could blink. His scream was nearly silent, the gun falling out of his hand to bounce harmlessly in the grass, his face twisted in pain and hate. He tried to rise to his knees.

  Silas shot out one knee and the man’s mouth yawed open on another rasping scream that could barely be heard. Silas leaned close. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Go to hell.”

  It was dark, but there was just enough moon to make out his face. It was familiar. Silas aimed at the man’s other knee. “Give me your name or I shoot again.”

  “No.” It was a pathetic gurgling nose. “Don’t shoot.”

  “I know you. I obviously arrested you.” Silas had a damn good memory and the puzzle pieces in his mind interlocked. “Harlan Kapansky. You killed a family because the father owed money to his bookie. You got twenty-five years.”

  Kapansky glared up at him. “Got out on good behavior.” That must have struck him as funny because he began to laugh hysterically, great gasping guffaws that left him even more wild-eyed and breathless.

  “How much did he pay you to kill me?”

  An unholy glee joined the wildness in Kapansky’s gaze. “You were free.”

  “I was—what? Oh God. Oh my God.” Silas’s heart stopped as another puzzle piece fit. Kapansky wasn’t an ordinary killer. He was a demolition expert. He planted bombs. He’d killed that family with a car bomb.

  Grayson and Paige. Silas shoved the barrel of his rifle against Kapansky’s unwounded knee. “Did you plant a bomb under that car that just drove away?”

  Kapansky laughed.

  You have to warn them. Silas hadn’t heard the bomb blow. Timer. The little shit writhing on the ground must have used a timer. Warn them.

  Silas slung the rifle over his shoulder and dug for his cell phones. He still had Grayson’s cell number on his personal cell. On his business cell he dialed.

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:48 p.m.


  Grayson had his hand on Paige’s back, keeping her bent forward in her seat. He drove like a man possessed while she dialed 911 and reported their situation.

  Faster. Faster. It was all he could think. Get her away. Keep her safe.

  Paige asked the operator to contact Stevie Mazzetti, then looked up sideways. “They shot at you, Grayson,” she said urgently. “Not me.”

  “I guess our visit to Rex McCloud rattled a few chains.”

  “The 911 operator says they dispatched squad cars, that we should find a well-lit area and wait.”

  “Like hell,” he muttered. A well-lit area would just give the sniper a better view. He kept driving. And then the cell in his pocket vibrated. Stevie.

  He released Paige to reach for his phone. “Stevie, I—”

  “Get out of the car.”

  Grayson’s foot froze on the pedal. It was the voice. From last night. The shooter who’d called him by name. “No,” he said.

  “Dammit, Grayson, if you value your life, you will get out of the car.”

  “You just tried to shoot me,” Grayson said, incredulous.

  “Goddammit, if I’d wanted to hit you, you’d be dead. I was trying to miss. Get out of the car or you and your woman will die. There’s a bomb under your car. Trust me.”

  “Why should I trust you? Who the hell are you?”

  “A friend who doesn’t want to see either of you dead. Get out of the damn car.”

  Grayson calmed abruptly. His brain began to work. They’d been lured. Brittany had never planned to come to work. She’d kept them there, stringing them on. He slammed on the brakes, making Paige curse as her head slammed into the dash.

  “Get out,” he barked. “Get out of the car.”

  He bolted, running around the car to grab her as she stumbled. He picked her up and ran, diving over the shoulder and down an embankment.

  Just as his car exploded. Grayson clutched her to him and they rolled down the hill. He covered her with his body, hunched over, grimacing when pieces of twisted, burning metal rained down around them.