And to come up with one, Rae-Anne was going to need the application forms for everyone who’d recently been hired at the hotel. Luckily, she was somewhat familiar with the filing system and knew that new employees’ files were kept together at the front of one of the drawers until the information could be put into the computer system. Finding the dozen-or-so folders she needed didn’t take long.
She didn’t bother to read the forms as she copied them. She’d said she wanted to look over the applications on file for wait staff positions, and she didn’t want to have to explain why she was nowhere near the right cabinet for that, in case Jerry came into the inner office before she was done.
He was still busy with Wiley, though, when Rae-Anne emerged with her file folder of copies slung into the back pocket of her purse. “Find what you were after?” Jerry asked, looking up.
“Yes, thanks.” She looked at Wiley, feeling the magnetic pull of his dark gaze as she did every time she met his eyes. “I hope we find you a position, Mr. Heseltine,” she told him. “And don’t worry about those youthful indiscretions you were telling me about. This isn’t the kind of place that would hold a thing like that against you, especially seeing as you were never even formally charged with anything.”
She saw Jerry frown and shot Wiley a pointed look over the top of the personnel director’s head as she left the office. Let him weasel his way out of that on his own, she thought, since he was so good at pretending to be people he wasn’t.
The look in his eyes—affronted and amused at the same time—stayed with her as she went into the lobby and stood waiting for the elevator with a reassuring-looking group of women. And then her amusement faded.
He’d been playing a role for the DEA when she’d met him, and she’d seen the toll it had taken on him then. He’d been working on a case involving a big drug ring out of the Port of Houston, and although he’d always been sketchy about the details, it had been clear that any slip could cost him his life.
As, in fact, it almost had.
That heart-stopping danger hadn’t seemed to convince him that law enforcement wasn’t a safe place to be. True, impersonating Raymond Heseltine in the hotel office wasn’t exactly a dangerous assignment. But she was still chilled by how automatically he slid into his professional role, and how good he was at his hazardous job.
She thought of how much it had hurt when he’d disappeared from her life. And how terrified she’d been just now—how terrified she still was, when she let herself remember the feeling of being hemmed in by the two strangers in this very elevator.
She wasn’t cut out for the danger and drama that made up Wiley’s everyday life. And she didn’t intend to raise her children with any hint of that kind of dread hanging over them.
She shuddered uncontrollably as she stepped into the elevator with the other women. She rubbed one fist vigorously against her stomach, but it wasn’t nearly enough to erase the memory of that long knife blade pressing against her, or the fear that one quick flick of a stranger’s wrist might bring a hideous end to her dreams for her unborn child.
Still distracted by the strangers’ threats, and by the knowledge that Wiley Cotter might turn up again at any moment, she helped Tony with the start of the lunch rush, then settled down to do her bar order at the little desktop behind the bar. Or at least that was what she intended to do.
First, she thought, she might as well glance over the personnel files she’d copied. Something might jump out at her, something that would point the finger at the mob and away from Rodney.
She scanned the photocopies, mentally noting the names of the eleven recent employees. One was a new courtesy van driver, replacing the late Ellis Maitland. Rae-Anne wondered whether the people behind the money-laundering scheme would do anything as blatantly obvious as simply replacing one hired hand with another.
Wiley had told her that Ellis Maitland had agreed to testify for the prosecution in exchange for immunity on another charge. And that he’d been killed because he was a security risk to his real employers. Surely they would cover their tracks a little more carefully than that.
Of the remaining ten, five were chambermaids, two were laundry workers, one was a front desk clerk, one a market researcher and one a banquet coordinator. Rae-Anne was inclined to wash out the last two, who wouldn’t come into casual contact with the general public as much as the moneypickup scheme seemed to require. Of the others, two of the chambermaids were former employees returning after absences, which made them seem less likely, as well.
Three of the files caught her attention. Ruth Garcia, another of the chambermaids, had given only a very sketchy employment history, something Jerry was usually a stickler about. But she’d been hired anyway.
And one of the laundry workers, Armand Grant, seemed to have qualifications that suited him for something a lot more upscale than washing sheets in a hotel basement. Truck driver, airplane pilot, charter boat organizer… Why would a man with so many abilities take on such a low-end job?
The third oddity was the front desk clerk, who’d written “also known as Randy Melrose” next to his real name, Randy Mountjoy. Unless he was an aspiring novelist looking for any available publicity for his nom de plume, it seemed strange. She looked at the employee ID picture she’d copied for each of the three, and wondered if one of them could be the person Jack Cotter was looking for.
“What have you got there?”
Rodney’s voice cut into her thoughts, cultured as always but enough of a surprise that Rae-Anne jumped. “You scared me,” she told him, hoping she could hold his attention away from the personnel forms by pretending to be annoyed. “Damn it, Rodney, you know I’ve been on edge lately. Please don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
He leaned one linen-clad hip on the corner of the desk and stroked her cheek gently. “I just didn’t recall ever seeing you so engrossed in a bar order before. It looked like you were getting too far back into work, and I figured I’d jolt you out of it.”
“Well, you managed that, all right.”
Shaking her head and hoping he didn’t notice her trembling fingers, she shuffled the forms into line and closed the file folder on them. She hadn’t had time to work through all the implications of the two men’s threats in the elevator in the past half hour, but they started coming to her again now as she looked at Rodney.
Had the two strangers been telling her the truth when they’d said Rodney knew nothing about their visit? She wanted desperately to ask him straight out, to clear the air between them before anything else could go wrong.
But something in Rae-Anne was sure that Rodney would never do anything to threaten his own child. And if he hadn’t had anything to do with the two men in the elevator—if they were emissaries of some criminal operation that Rodney wasn’t a part of, or was trying to free himself from—
The thought made her tremble all over again as she put the file folder in her purse. “I was just looking over what we’ve got on file for wait staff applications,” she said. “If we stay this busy, I’m going to need more help on the evening shift.”
“You shouldn’t be worrying about that now.” Rodney stood up and shook the creases out of his tan trousers. “You’ve got other things on your mind, remember?”
She didn’t need his significant look at her belly to remind her. She put one hand down on her stomach, and wondered why she suddenly felt like crying.
Was it because she’d always thought that pregnancy would be a magical time, a time to revel in the sense that a new life was growing inside her? Now, instead of making happy plans for the future, she was less and less certain what that future might hold.
“Rodney,” she said, suddenly determined to force the issue into the open, “we’ve never really talked about the business side of our getting married.”
“What do you mean?” He was frowning at her.
“I mean that this hotel chain is a big corporation. And as your wife, I’ll have an intere
st in it. Right?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, though, his voice was careful and neutral. “Are you saying we should have some sort of prenuptial agreement?”
“I’m just saying I think I should know more than I do about how the hotels operate. I mean, you had that big expansion a few years ago. Has the corporation recovered financially from that? Is the organization as healthy as it seems? That’s the kind of thing I just wish I knew.”
She didn’t like the change that was coming over Rodney’s good-looking features as she spoke. When she’d first known him, he’d sometimes dealt with his responsibilities by letting them slide off him like rainwater rushing over a dry riverbed. She’d seen a big change in him since she’d started working here, and it had been a while since she’d met that blank gaze that told her that even though he was still standing here, he’d essentially withdrawn from the conversation.
“It’s all pretty complicated,” he said.
“Meaning you think I won’t understand it?” she challenged him.
Her tone of voice seemed to startle him, but only for a moment. His face had that masklike composure again as he said, “There’s not that much to understand, really. Everything’s running on a pretty even keel at the moment, and I don’t see why things shouldn’t stay that way. We’re fully booked most of the time, and the convention business is still growing. Why are you worried about this? Why don’t we just go and get some lunch?”
Oddly, it was his last question that finally threatened to crack the smoothness in his voice. Rae-Anne could hear the quiet sound of alarm in it, just as she’d heard fear in her own voice not long ago. If Rodney was trapped in something that wasn’t his own doing—if he was in some kind of danger, and being watched over by people who would turn the events of his private life to their own advantage—
“Rodney, what’s going on?” Impulsively, she put a hand toward him, but he didn’t return the gesture. “There’s something the matter with the business, isn’t there? Did you have to borrow money you can’t pay back? Is that what’s wrong?”
She almost wished he would show anger, or anxiety, or anything at all. The evenness of his voice as he answered her and the glassy calm in his eyes were more unnerving than any argument could have been.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. “I can make a good home for you and the baby. We’re going to be happy together. You’ll see.”
“How can I believe that when you won’t be completely honest with me?”
“Please, Rae-Anne.” For a moment she thought his facade might finally open up, but he got himself in hand almost immediately. “Please don’t ask me about this again. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Oh, God, Rae-Anne thought. She wished she could believe him, wished it was just as simple as trusting that Rodney knew what he was talking about. Part of her was longing to settle down, to ignore life’s hard questions and to enjoy the work and the rewards of raising her children in the part of the country she loved best.
But there were those two men in the elevator.
And the FBI’s accusations.
And the way Wiley Cotter kept showing up, dark and insistent, like a reminder of everything that was wrong and unsettled in Rae-Anne’s mind.
And Rodney’s only answer to all of this was to refuse to answer her questions, and to draw a bland and unmovable cover over whatever was bothering him.
Something was bothering him. She was certain of that. And she had some vague and unpleasant ideas about what it was. But what Rodney was telling her was that as far as he was concerned, they were going to have to stay vague.
And that made them seem more menacing than ever.
Chapter 8
“I can’t stay long.” Rae-Anne dropped the manila file folder on the table between her and Jack Cotter. “Rodney thinks I just came into town on a quick shopping trip.”
It was Tuesday afternoon, the day after she’d copied the personnel files, and this was the first chance she’d had to get the files to Jack. They were sitting in a coffee shop in New Braunfels, at a corner table from which, Rae-Anne sincerely hoped, no one she knew would recognize her and wonder who her companion was.
“You think he suspects anything?”
“He might.”
She had debated whether to tell Jack about the two men in the elevator and had decided against it. Rodney’s manner, remote and ambiguous, had made her think more than ever that he might have gotten involved in something that was far beyond his depth. And that seemed to argue for his innocence overall.
But she knew Jack had a stake in proving Rodney guilty. And he would undoubtedly see the incident with the two men as proof of that. So she’d decided only to share hard, concrete evidence, like the photocopied personnel files. She would keep the doubtful facts to herself, for now.
He nodded as he scanned the files she’d given him. “There’s no real need for us to stay and finish this coffee,” he said. “Might be less suspicious if—”
“There is one other thing.”
She’d been debating with herself about this, too. She’d tried to concentrate on the problem of Rodney, tried to put Wiley out of her thoughts altogether. She’d told herself she didn’t care about Wiley’s past since he couldn’t possibly have a place in her future.
But none of it had quite worked. And now the sight of Jack Cotter’s long limbs and dark, watchful eyes made it impossible to forget about the man who’d stalked in and out of her dreams in the few hours she’d managed to sleep last night in Rodney’s guest room.
Maybe her mind would be more settled if she could fill in a few of the blanks that were bothering her about Wiley, she thought. And Jack Cotter was just the person to help her out.
So she pushed past her hesitation and said, “I was wondering about you and Sam. And Wiley.”
Was it her imagination, or did his hawklike eyes sharpen a little more at her question? He tapped his thumb against the closed file folder, the way she remembered him doing during their meeting on Sunday, and said, “What about me and Sam and Wiley?”
She paused again and finally decided just to plunge in. “When I knew Wiley before, he gave me the impression that the only family he had was scattered to the winds,” she said. “But the three of you are obviously very close now. What happened? How did you get back together?”
“Why don’t you ask Wiley?”
“I’m not sure he’d tell me.”
He looked steadily at her for a moment. “Well, if he doesn’t want to tell you, I don’t know if I should jump in.”
Jack not only looked like Wiley, he was starting to affect Rae-Anne the same way, minus the pulse-boosting attraction that always got in her way whenever Wiley was around. Wiley had always touched her temper in a hurry, as well as her heart, and Jack was starting to do the same thing, without any apparent effort at all.
“What is it with you guys?” she demanded, leaning across the table so their nearest neighbors in the coffee shop wouldn’t be able to overhear her. “I’m not asking for a state secret, Jack. I just want to know why the three of you get so darned laconic whenever the subject of your family comes up.”
The rhythmic thumping of Jack’s thumb on the tabletop was more pronounced now. “Why do you want to know?” he asked finally. “Aren’t you busy trying to clear Rodney Dietrich’s name so you can marry him?”
“This has nothing to do with Rodney.”
Jack gave her a quick version of the grin that was so laidback on Sam’s face and so incredibly sexy on Wiley’s. “RaeAnne, the Cotter brothers may be laconic, but we’re not stupid. Anybody can see you and Wiley mean a lot to each other.”
“Meant a lot,” she corrected quickly.
“Are you sure about that?”
She thought about the nights she and Wiley had spent in each other’s arms, and the way she had instinctively seemed to recognize him—mind, body and soul—as the answer to so many of the persistent, echoing questions in her life.
He wasn’t the answer to the question of who was the father of her baby.
And he wasn’t the answer when it came to giving that baby a home free of upheavals and uprootings, either. RaeAnne frowned across the table at Wiley’s younger brother and said, “Yes, I’m sure. Whatever Wiley and I shared is in the past. But now all of a sudden I seem to be surrounded by Cotter men, whether I want to be or not. And I’m curious about how you all got split apart and how you got back together again.”
She paused and saw that she’d been right in her guess about Jack. When something touched him closely, he could be just as infuriatingly aloof about it as Wiley.
“Come on, Jack,” she said. “Humor me. I’m doing you a big favor here. How about a small one in return?”
He snorted and gave her another quick grin. “You know,” he said, “you really don’t seem like Wiley’s type. He says he gets enough contention out of his job without having to go looking for it after hours.”
Sam had said nearly the same thing. Rae-Anne frowned and said, “I told you, this has nothing to do with me and Wiley.”
“If you say so.” She could tell he wasn’t convinced.
And his silence after he’d spoken was starting to get on her nerves. “All right,” she said finally. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t.” He reached for the casual suit jacket he’d draped over the back of his chair. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask Wiley about it.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t think he’ll-”
He leaned forward quickly, as though what he had to say was important and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t overheard. “I learned a long time ago not to take too many things about Wiley for granted,” he said. “Push him the wrong way and he’ll clam up on you, it’s true. But if you find the right way—” He mimed the motion of cracking open a clamshell. “He’s all yours.” His grin was sudden and dazzling. “And don’t tell him I told you so,” he added as he stood up.
The Wedding Assignment Page 12