by Lora Leigh
He paused at the front of the boat.
“I’m up here, Cranston,” John called out, the night and the water carrying his voice clearly to the other man.
“Ahh, the elusive John Walker Junior.” The amusement in the other man’s tone was just the wrong side of grating.
He moved across the deck to the spiral staircase that led to the sundeck of the houseboat.
“Too bad I’m not a little better at the elusive part,” John grunted. “What the hell do you want?”
Cranston stepped onto the deck, a quiet grin on his face as John leaned against the rail and glared back at him.
“The Walkers have quite a history in this area,” Timothy mused as he walked across the deck to the portable fridge and removed a beer.
John watched as he uncapped it and took a long drink, wondering what the ex-special agent was doing here.
“Calculating” and “manipulating” were two of the kinder terms used to refer to Cranston.
Turning back to him, Cranston moved closer, opting to sit in one of the deck chairs across from where John stood.
“I won’t ask again,” John stated with far more patience than he felt.
Cranston only chuckled. “The Mackay boys use that same tone with me, John. It doesn’t help them any more than it’s going to help you.”
No doubt. The little fucker was going to get himself killed one of these days. From what John understood, he was far too prone to fuck with too many people’s lives.
“You have a problem,” Cranston finally stated.
“And you’re one of them,” John pointed out.
To which Cranston’s low laugh filtered through the night.
“This could be true,” the other man agreed, nodding. “But honestly, JW, I could easily become your best friend.”
“Not if you keep calling me JW.”
He might just have to kill the little bastard himself if he kept that up.
“That’s what most people in these parts call you, you know,” Timothy informed him. “Especially those who knew your father.”
John restrained a sigh. Too many people in this area remembered his father before he moved to Boston. Or perhaps escaped to Boston would be a better way of describing it.
“Cut the shit, Cranston.” John shook his head wearily. “Why are you here?”
“Because someone was in town today asking some very pointed questions about John Walker Junior. Someone obviously not from the area.”
John froze. No one but his parents and sisters knew where he was, and there was no reason for anyone he knew to have followed him to Somerset, Kentucky.
“Who was he?”
“She.” Cranston grinned. “The intrepid investigator claimed to be your fiancée.”
John stared back at him in silent shock.
“I don’t have a fiancée,” he answered the other man.
Cranston tipped the beer back, finished it, then set the bottle on the floor of the deck.
“She didn’t seem much like a lady,” Cranston remarked. “Strange, I can’t imagine you hooking up with such a woman, even for a short time.”
John remained silent, refusing to answer the subtle question.
Cranston stared back, just as silent.
John couldn’t imagine Marlena in Somerset, Kentucky, for any reason. There had to be a mistake. But Cranston wasn’t a man that made mistakes.
“Strange, in the year you’ve been here, no one has questioned your arrival, nor followed you. It struck me as rather funny that this woman arrived only hours after you met your sister’s plane on Hickley’s private airstrip and collected a passenger.”
John crossed his arms over his chest and restrained the heavy curse hovering on his lips. Hell, he didn’t need this.
“What business is it of yours if someone claiming to be my fiancée is in town?” John tilted his head and stared back at the other man.
“Well, normally, I really wouldn’t care,” Cranston assured him. “But the last name Genoa tipped me off. Were you aware your ex-fiancée and her family were suspected of being involved with one of the largest crime families in the nation?”
Fuck!
John rubbed at the bridge of his nose and couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t surprised.
“No, Cranston, I had no idea.”
Cranston nodded in reply. “I had your family investigated rather heavily once I met your sister.” He grinned at some memory. “She’s a hell of a woman, but I had a job to do at the time. Of course, this was before your engagement. The thing I learned was that the Walker family was incredibly loyal, not to mention patriotic. When I learned you were engaged to the Genoa woman, I was rather surprised.”
“It didn’t last too long,” John pointed out mockingly.
“Because Sierra saved your sorry ass,” Cranston grunted. “There were agents with the Office of Homeland Security at the restaurant that night who had Ms. Genoa under surveillance. The reports were fairly precise. Once I checked further into it, I learned that Ms. Lucas had been instrumental not in just breaking up your engagement but also in stopping a much-needed infusion of financial prosperity into the Genoa family, which would have boosted them back into the good graces of their extended family. Walker capital would have been used to launder some rather dirty money.”
John could only shake his head. “Cranston, what makes you think that even criminals can’t marry for love?”
“Of course they can.” Cranston stared back at him as though surprised. “They just don’t normally survive it. Which works out for all us hardworking law enforcement officials.”
“I should have taken my uncle up on his offer to move to California,” John breathed out roughly, though he knew he could have never done so. Hell, he loved Somerset, especially on the days he didn’t have to deal with Cranston.
He was learning things tonight he didn’t really want to know. Things he really didn’t give a damn about.
“Marlena is no longer a part of my life, Cranston,” John pointed out.
“That explains why she was in town then, correct?” Cranston’s smile was benign, almost innocent.
No, that didn’t explain anything.
“She did leave this afternoon,” Timothy went on to say. “But not before, as I understand it, she made a trip here, to the marina.”
Thank God, Sierra had slept the afternoon away, and John was certain there was no way Marlena could have gotten the information that Sierra was there. No one knew she was there but the Mackays, and they wouldn’t tell anyone, he was certain of that.
“What’s going on, John?” Cranston asked then, his tone completely serious. “There’s reports from Boston that Ms. Lucas was attacked after you left town, nearly raped, beaten. She disappeared after being taken in by your family, and now a member of the Genoa family is here, looking for you. After a year? Tell me, boy, do you believe in coincidence of that sort?”
Hell no, he didn’t, but it couldn’t be anything else, could it?
“You think Marlena was behind Sierra’s attack?”
“Personally, I wouldn’t put it past her to have made the attack,” Cranston grunted. “But Ms. Lucas seems certain her attacker was male. My point is, your ex-fiancée is here, after a year, within hours of Ms. Lucas’s arrival. With her connections, finding your friend wouldn’t have been hard, John. Find you, they find Sierra. A ten-year-old could have figured that one out.”
“And why the hell does this even concern you?” John asked even as he let the information turn over in his mind and considered the possibilities. “Why are you involved in this, Cranston?”
The other man breathed out heavily. “It’s damned hard to retire, John. I see things. That was always my strength in Homeland Security. I could take coincidences and pin them together, and I could see the links when there didn’t appear to be any.” He stared back at John soberly. “My gut’s rioting here. It has been ever since I recognized Marlena Genoa walking into the Mackay Café in town and learned who s
he was asking for. Her arrival here isn’t a good thing.”
And John couldn’t defend her. He couldn’t protest. He couldn’t defend her and try to claim Marlena wasn’t capable of being involved in something as sinister as the attack on Sierra. He knew Marlena’s vindictiveness. If he added that to her possible criminal connections …
“Why come here herself if she has all these connections?” John asked Cranston, frowning as he tried to make the pieces of the puzzle fit in his mind.
“As I said, her family has lost financially, which lowered their cache within the family. Her marriage to you would have fixed that by providing a way to either launder money, or to embezzle funds to finance smaller investments for the family. Either way, her family could have moved back into the working stream. She’s doing her own dirty work because she has no choice. If she’s like other members of her family, then she’s after revenge now. The other girl is winning.”
John snorted at that. “This isn’t fucking high school, Cranston.”
“No, it’s real life, and where the hell do you think games like this begin, if not in school? These women learn from preschool how to manipulate and play payback. Don’t imagine life doesn’t often imitate those school yard games.”
Making it fit in his head wasn’t so easy, though. Marlena wasn’t above social revenge, but staging an attack against Sierra?
“So you’re saying Marlena arranged the attack to get back at Sierra for informing me of her affair with Gerard? Why wait for a year after I break off the engagement then?”
“I’m saying my gut is burning,” Timothy growled. “I see her, hear her questioning people about you and any guests you might have living with you, and things start adding up in my head. And I’m a nosy bastard, John. Nosy and damned particular about things like this. Somerset is my home now, and I look after what’s mine. That means you and that innocent little girl you now have sleeping in your boat. From what I’ve learned, she’s a damned fine woman. Women are to be protected, JW, and that’s our job. That’s a job I take damned seriously.”
He’d heard Cranston had taken Pulaski County as his own, and he was driving both Sheriff Mayes as well as Somerset’s Chief of Police, Alex Jansen, crazy with his interference. Crazy, because he was invariably right. And invariably, Cranston’s issues always revolved around women.
John pushed his fingers through his hair wearily. “If this is what is actually going on, then what’s the threat level I’m looking at?”
Cranston tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “The Genoa family is cash poor, but there are still a few favors they can draw on. Not many, mind you, and contract killings cost money. I’d say if she doesn’t try to do something herself, then the person working with her will owe her a personal favor of sorts. My advice is to keep Ms. Lucas out of sight, and if you come in contact with Ms. Genoa, see how hard you can piss her off. Women are women, my friend, and many of them will always give themselves away in anger.”
John shook his head. Marlena was cool; hell, she was cold as ice. Getting her to crack wouldn’t be that easy.
“There’s no chance she’ll simply give up,” John mused aloud.
“Not a Genoa,” Timothy grunted. “She’s here to do the footwork, then whoever’s helping her will strike. We need to find out who’s helping her, why, and put a stop to it.”
“And we do this how?” John asked curiously.
“I’ve always found a Glock works really well.” He sounded way too serious, and John found the idea much too appealing.
“I like the idea, but I think if we both want to stay out of prison, we come up with another idea.”
Timothy chuckled as he rose from his seat. “I knew I’d like you, JW.”
“Keep calling me JW and I’ll kill you for sure,” John warned him.
Timothy only gave another short laugh. “Since we can’t kill them, we’re going to have to prove conspiracy and intent. That will be harder. We have help, though. The Mackay boys are looking for a little excitement. Marriage suits them, but I think they miss the adrenaline a little bit, too. I have a former agent or two in the area. We’ll work on them. Sit tight a day or so and I’ll see what I can come up with.”
John’s brows rose. Strangely, he couldn’t remember asking Cranston to handle this for him. But he knew the things he had heard about the former special agent. He’d let the little Leprechaun do his thing for the time being. John had a woman to protect. His woman, and learning about Sierra was more important than hunting up Marlena.
“How do you intend to handle it, Cranston?” Curiosity was getting the best of him.
“By doing what I do best.” Cranston’s smile was innocent, amused, and frankly terrifying. “By doing what I do best.”
By manipulating anyone and everyone involved or who could be involved, John thought. That was what Cranston did best. That was a damned scary proposition if even half of what John had heard about him was correct.
“Cranston, you’re retired, and you’re still trying to protect the world?” John would have been amused if he wasn’t fully aware of exactly how dedicated Timothy Cranston had always been to justice.
The former agent paused and stared out into the darkened lake for long moments before speaking. “I had a daughter once.” He spoke low, his voice filled with a haunted, aching loss. “I had a wife, and you know, they loved me.” He turned back to John. “I’m rumpled, a smart ass, and when I met my wife, God knew I was fast on my way to becoming an alcoholic, but she saved me. And my daughter made me realize the reason for my existence. When she was born, my wife made me swear that no matter what happened, I’d never let myself sink again.” He shook his head as he took a deep breath. “Monsters took my ladies from me, John. Men who had no respect for the law or even humanity. I swore to my beautiful wife I’d never get drunk again, but I didn’t swear I wouldn’t wipe as many of the monsters as possible out of existence. That’s what I live for. That’s all I live for. Because if I kill myself, then I don’t have a chance of meeting my ladies in Heaven, now do I?”
With that, Cranston turned and moved to the stairs.
“That’s why you’re here,” John said before he left. “That’s why you stay in Somerset, because the Mackays are family now, aren’t they?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m here because a Mackay married an agent that so reminded me of my daughter that I couldn’t help but love her as one. I stay here because there’s work to be done here, and because the Mackays allow me to be a part of their lives. Without them, I don’t know if I could keep that promise to my wife once the Department cut me loose. That’s why I’m here.”
For a man as rumpled, lazy, and clumsy looking as Timothy Cranston, he moved with a silence John could only envy as he left the houseboat, and left John with more to ponder than what he felt he actually needed.
He wondered if the Mackays were aware of the reason why Timothy Cranston had settled in Somerset. They were tolerant of him for the most part; they liked the rabid, calculating little bastard, there was no doubt. But John had a feeling they had no idea the true reason why the other man was still here, poking his nose in their lives and calling himself “Unca Timmy” to their children as he slid their parents mocking looks.
And now it seemed Cranston wanted to adopt him and Sierra as well.
Shaking his head with a rueful laugh, John turned to make his way back to the interior of the houseboat when a movement on the bank caught his eye. It was subtle, a gleam of metal where there shouldn’t be. A small dot of light, almost like that of a pair of night-vision binoculars. It was just there for a second, though, and then it was gone.
A trick of the light? He’d seen it before over the past months and that was the explanation he had given himself. What if it was something more?
Moving to the steps, John descended them quickly until he was once again in the living area of the houseboat.
Sierra was still sleeping peacefully in the bed, her thick, heavy lashes cushioned
against her upper cheek, the long, thick strands of black curls falling around her face and shoulders. She looked like an angel. So damned innocent, and so sexy at the same time.
The oversized T-shirt and shorts she wore gave her a girlish appearance, and that innocence. He grimaced, a flash of something flitting through his mind as he frowned. Rising between her thighs, fitting himself to her?
He shook his head. The fantasy of that first night, the night he had nearly had her, still tormented him. There was no figuring it out quite yet, though.
Locking the doors and pulling the drapes, he moved to the back of the houseboat and the small office he used the guest bedroom for. There, he edged the side of the curtain aside and watched the bank closely.
Shadows shifted and moved as his gaze narrowed. That tingle at the back of his neck that he’d acquired as a Marine kicked in.
There was definitely someone there, definitely a threat. And it had been there far longer than Sierra’s arrival. Only tonight had that knowledge that it could become a threat begin to tingle at his nape.
Because Sierra was there.
He pulled his cell phone from his hip and hit speed dial.
“Dawg.” Dawg Mackay answered on the first ring.
“I have eyes on me,” he said quietly.
“Where?” Dawg was instantly alert.
“At the rear, at the nine o’ clock position. Meet me there in the morning.”
“Fuck morning,” Dawg growled. “I’ll call the others, we’ll be there within minutes.”
“And they’ll be gone,” John guessed. “I have a situation here, Dawg. Just catching whoever or whatever watches won’t fix it. But we can use them.”
There was a long moment of silence. “I’ll call Cranston.”
“Cranston just left but call him. Slip in tomorrow morning separately. Let’s do it all at once, or Sierra will never be safe.”
And nothing mattered but her safety.
SEVEN
Sierra awoke to strong arms holding her, the warmth of
John behind her, his head resting against the top of hers, his legs entwined with hers.