by Sylvie Kurtz
Chapter Eight
“What’s taking Bryn so long?” In the drab motel in Fitchburg that smelled faintly of must, Gray paced the length of the ratty brown carpet. Not only was the hair at the back of his neck bristling like a dog on the defensive, the rock at the pit of his stomach was growing into a boulder.
Abbie perched on one of the twin beds, watching Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? on a grainy television channel. “Maybe she found something interesting and she’s tracking it down. She’s good at what she does.”
Or maybe Bryn was making him wait on purpose just to get even. Except he didn’t think she’d do that to Abbie. He glanced at his watch. It had advanced exactly two minutes since the last time he’d checked it. He thumbed open the phone Bryn had given him and made sure it was turned on. When he couldn’t stand the suspense anymore, he dialed Bryn’s number and got her voice mail. Swearing, he headed to the scrap of faux-marble counter outside the bathroom and brewed a second pot of coffee.
Better than drowning his worries in beer, right? Damn if the thirst for something stronger wasn’t there. It burned a straight line from his throat to his stomach. Hands flat against the counter, he didn’t dare look at the mirror backing for fear he’d see his mother’s eyes staring back at him.
He concentrated on the coffee dripping into the pot and made himself wait until it had finished its last steamy burp before trying Bryn’s number again. Nothing.
“Call me,” he barked at the beep. He downed a cup of coffee that left him wired but unsatisfied and deepened the groove his pacing was carving into the carpet. “Something’s wrong.”
“Her voice mail catches her calls when she’s working,” Abbie said in a voice that sounded robotic. “She never answers when she’s working.”
“For you she’d call back. She knows how important this is.”
Abbie tore her gaze from the black-and-white snow on the tube and stared at him. “You don’t think…”
God, he hoped not. “No, you’re the target. Bryn can’t tell them anything.” Except where she’d sent them. Not that it would do anyone any good, but neither Bryn nor their hunter knew that. He’d hoped Vanderveer’s flunky would get out of the neighborhood before the sugar seized. But what if she’d gone after Brynna?
Abbie’s eyes grew wide, and he imagined the faces of the dead deputies and the dead cop paraded in her memory. She didn’t believe him either. He wanted to erase the horror from her mind. Not that she’d thank him for crossing the line of propriety and kissing her into oblivion.
“You’re right,” Abbie said, her gaze zeroing back on the TV. “Bryn doesn’t know anything. I’m not there, so she won’t get hurt.”
“Yeah.” He sounded as sincere as a car salesman.
Frowning, Abbie tucked her legs in closer and stared at the tube. He recognized her coping mechanism for what it was, but it still bugged the hell out of him.
On the other hand, he didn’t want to have to deal with a barrage of questions and dire possibilities that would only make him feel impotent. He was usually good at playing turtle, at waiting patiently, but right now he’d rather be doing something than standing here worrying.
For the second time he attacked the copy of the report Bryn had given the Holbrooks’ lawyers, dissecting it down to the last period. Nothing there came as a big surprise. Holbrook had lived his life like an open book. What you saw was what you got. And what you got was someone ethical to a fault. That sense of ethics had cost him his life and—if the report was right—a good chunk of his fortune. Abbie’s future was protected by a trust no one could touch—not even Vanderveer—but her father had barely scraped by. Did Abbie know?
The only thing that made a blip on Gray’s radar was Bertrice Storey’s name as a beneficiary in Elizabeth Holbrook’s will. If Vanderveer or any of his flunkies had seen a copy of the report, they would’ve known where to find Sister Bert. Was that why they’d run into Vanderveer’s hired gun on the island?
Gray tried the phone one more time. Still no answer. Enough caffeine jolted through his system to light up all of Echo Falls. The last thing he needed was another cup of coffee. But he poured one into the black ceramic mug anyway.
He was going to have to call for help. No getting around it. He couldn’t risk going back to the house in Echo Falls, but he couldn’t take the chance that Brynna was hurt either. If anything had happened to her… No, he wasn’t even going to go there.
He’d call Kingsley. Just like his sister Joanna, Kingsley was his job. He wouldn’t do anything to undermine the electronic show he got to run his way at Seekers. Plus the Boy Scout didn’t have a single skeleton hanging in his closet that anyone could use to pressure him. Seekers and his family were his world. He had two sisters. He’d understand. And if there was a mole at Seekers, Kingsley would want to ferret him out. If Gray called him on his cell, he could bypass Falconer. Maybe that would buy him time and protect Kingsley’s position.
Do it before you change your mind.
Breath drawn, he scooped the phone from the counter and punched in the numbers. He couldn’t stand still in the puddle of frustration backing up around him, so he paced.
“Can you talk?” Gray asked when Kingsley answered.
Without missing a beat, Kingsley answered, “No, but when can you deliver?”
“The day of the trial.”
“I need it sooner.”
You and me both. The next six days were going to drag on much too long. Especially when he didn’t know who was after them and he couldn’t see his prey coming. Not to mention the fact that Vanderveer’s poison might have infected their family. “Someone from Seekers isn’t batting for the home team.”
Falconer’s and Liv’s voices lilted and fell in conversation in the background. Kingsley’s command-center chair squeaked a restless tempo. “That’s not possible.”
“What do you know about Harper?”
“I’m pretty sure I gave you the right part number, but I’ll double-check.”
That’s what he liked about Kingsley—the guy was quick. “I need another favor.” Gray leaned against the counter and vented a breath. They all thought he lived the life of a carefree bachelor without anyone to answer to. His confession would blow his image big-time. “Can you check on my sister?”
Kingsley’s chair stopped creaking. “I didn’t know you even had one.”
“Long story. She tried to help me and that might have gotten her a visit from Vanderveer’s flunky. She’s not answering her phone and she never leaves the house.” For Abbie she’d pick up the line.
“Okay, give me the data and I’ll look it up.”
Relieved, Gray gave Kingsley Brynna’s address, her phone number and his. If the fact that his sister lived in Echo Falls registered curiosity, Kingsley didn’t let it show. But then, family was big with Kingsley. He’d do anything for his sisters, his parents—or his fellow Seekers. More than Gray could say about himself. “Call me as soon as you’ve checked on her.”
“Will do.”
Gray hung up and went back to wearing down the carpet. Bryn was all right. She had to be. She’d lost track of time. She’d done that all the time when they were kids. How many times had he had to go run her down somewhere? She’d always looked at him angry for showing up and surprised at the passage of time.
He poured another cup of coffee and stared at the black liquid. How much caffeine would push him into overdose territory? How long would it take Kingsley to get to Brynna?
THE MOVIE HAD ENDED A FEW minutes ago, and Abbie flipped through channels trying to find another film to distract her buzzing mind. If she thought about Bryn, about Rafe, about Gray, she would go crazy. Part of her realized this evasion wasn’t healthy, but the other part couldn’t take another ounce of pain. Chilled with cold sweat, she huddled beneath the polar fleece of her vest and wished for something other than stiff motel sheets for solace. June be damned, her body shivered with January-like furor.
The television barely got five
channels, and none of those came in very well. The rest just hissed and crazed her nerves. News, news and more news. She couldn’t handle news. She couldn’t handle anything negative. She simply couldn’t add the weight of Brynna’s possible death to her already overloaded shoulders. She would break and no one would ever be able to put her together again.
Flick. She should have listened to Gray when he’d told her it was dangerous for them to go to Bryn. Flick. But no, all she’d thought about was getting what they needed without forcing Bryn out of her comfort zone. Flick. How much comfort would she get in that broken-down house if someone forced their way into her sanctuary? Her peace would be violated all over again. Flick, flick, flick. Oh, God, Bryn. Forgive me.
Gray tore the remote from her hands. “Okay. That’s enough.”
“Give it back.” She grabbed for the remote and missed.
He pitched the remote across the room, where it skidded to a halt against the baseboard under the counter between the bathroom and the closet. He crouched beside her and grasped her wrists. “No, Abbie. Enough is enough.”
“Gray, please…”
Please what? Let me numb myself into oblivion? Save me from myself? She didn’t even know what she wanted, except out. Out of here. Out of this mess. Back in her own studio with its painted backgrounds and lights and cameras and kids—yes, even the shrieking, bawling ones who didn’t want their picture taken. Back in her darkroom developing magic from negatives.
The shouts of children playing in the pool outside stippled the air. A car rumbled by in the parking lot, valves knocking. The radio, with bass maxed, boomed by, making the window throb to its primitive beat.
As she fixed her gaze onto Gray’s face, the noise receded, gripping the room with a hollow silence. The taste of fear was metallic in her dry mouth. Tears cramped her chest and climbed into her throat. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
Gray was the one real and solid thing she could count on right now, so she let the heat of his fingers warm her skin. Don’t let go. Whatever you do, don’t let go. “How long will it take your friend to get to Bryn?”
Gray looked as worn and as haunted as she felt. He might act as if he didn’t care, but his family—as fractured as they were—had once meant the world to him. He’d tried so hard to hold it together and blamed himself for its failure. If Brynna was hurt, a part of him would die, too.
“Wintergreen is about an hour from Echo Falls,” he said, and it sounded as far as the moon.
“It’s been more than an hour since you called.”
“Getting away was probably a bit of a problem. Kingsley’s going to keep our secret. For now.” Gray’s grip on her wrists loosened and her hands fell into his. The heat of his palms zinged into hers.
“What if he’s the one in Rafe’s pocket?” she asked, a needle of ice digging into her spine.
“No.”
“He would know you well enough to think you might go to his sister’s hotel.”
Gray shook his head. “Even if he had, he would have sent Mercer, not Vanderveer’s hired gun.”
“What if—”
“No. Not Kingsley.”
“I don’t trust anyone from Seekers.”
Gray cocked his head. “You’re trusting me.”
“That’s different. I know you.”
“And I know Kingsley. He wouldn’t let Vanderveer touch anyone he cared for.”
Gray rocked back on his heels, creating a canyon of space between them, breached only by the bridge of their touching hands. “What haven’t you told me about Vanderveer?”
“There’s nothing else,” she said more sharply than she’d intended. Numbness crept back into her limbs and she glanced at the television, yearning to lose herself in the simple plot and pageantry of an Esther Williams movie. “I just can’t—”
“Of course you can.” He sat beside her on the bed and urged her head onto his shoulder. He smelled good, like soap and fabric softener, and it reminded her of home. “You always noticed everything. You and Bryn could get to the bottom of a secret faster than a tabloid journalist.”
She couldn’t help the small smile. There was no problem she and Bryn couldn’t solve—except their own, of course. For whatever reason, the kids at school had confided in her and Brynna, especially their relationship problems. The Doctors of Dating. Which in itself was a joke. Neither she nor Bryn had dated much. Abbie because she’d had a crush on Gray since she could remember. And Bryn because she hadn’t wanted to become attached to anyone from Echo Falls. She’d planned on leaving town as soon as she’d graduated from high school.
Then her mother had become sick, anchoring her to the hated town. And her mother’s last boyfriend had turned to Bryn for what he couldn’t get from her mother. After that cruel blow, nothing had been the same. Bryn had thought she could get rid of the feeling of violation by entering the police academy and becoming the law. But breaking a fellow trainee’s nose for making advances toward her had gotten her kicked out for behavior unbecoming an officer. She’d shrunk into herself and never made it back out. Abbie had wanted to tell Gray so many times over the years. But Bryn would have seen the broken promise as betrayal and she’d already suffered so much.
“Tell me about Rafe’s staff.” Gray’s voice buzzed in her ear, bringing Abbie back to the present she so wanted to avoid.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on Gray and the soothing heat of his shoulder, his hips and his thighs. “Rafe put in long hours. He had plans. A vision, he called it. From the gossip around the mill, he barked orders and expected everyone to hop into action before the words were out of his mouth. He couldn’t keep a secretary.”
“Why not?”
“Most didn’t consider verbal abuse part of the job. To tell you the truth, the atmosphere got so tense there that I avoided going anywhere near the offices. If I needed to talk to Dad, I’d meet him after work at the house or at my studio.”
“Who did Vanderveer bring aboard?” The tips of Gray’s fingers brushed across her shoulders as he repositioned his arm along the headboard.
She snuggled closer, greedy for the warmth that peeled from Gray’s body in waves. “The plant manager, Donald Townes. I remember Dad not liking his choice.”
“Why didn’t your father like Donald Townes?”
She shrugged, savoring the contact of Gray’s hard muscles against her shoulder. “Something about attitude.” Don hadn’t fit the friendly family atmosphere her father preferred.
“What about women? Other than his secretaries, did Vanderveer hire any?”
Gray’s voice was hypnotizing, couching the memories she didn’t want to revisit in a hazy cotton that made them tolerable. “I don’t know. After Rafe took over his father’s position, I kept away from the mill. I was trying to build my business and avoid Rafe’s attention.”
“Okay, we’ll look into the manager. That may be how he got some of the Steeltex for his personal use.”
She turned her gaze to him. The mirrored lenses of his glasses reflected her own face back at her. Skin the color of ashes. Deep hollows that sucked in her cheeks. Eyes glassy and dull. She reached up to remove the glasses. He jerked his head back and grabbed for her wrist. “I can’t stand seeing myself in your lenses.”
He blinked but let her finish removing the glasses. Without looking, she threw them on the table between the beds. She’d always loved the warm silver of his eyes, the way she could read the race of his thoughts in them, the way it seemed as if she could see straight down into the glow of his soul. The way he’d made her feel with just a look, as if the world revolved around her. That look had flowed a warm river through her, alive and powerful—as if she could navigate any stretch of rapids and win. She needed that feeling now that her fractured soul was hanging on to nothing but the thin thread of hope.
“Gray.” Her knuckles scraped the prickly shadow of his beard. She’d wanted to kiss him since she was thirteen. She’d practiced for the anticipated moment
with her pillow. She’d given him overture after overture, but he’d never taken any of them. She’d thought he was a gentleman. Then she’d thought he wasn’t interested. She’d even tried to make him jealous by going to the sweetheart dance with Mark Conway sophomore year.
When out of the blue Gray had asked her to marry him, every cell of her body had screamed, Yes, yes, yes! But a roll of fear had bowled through her brain, knocking her back a step, and no had come spewing out of her mouth. I’m only sixteen. We’ve never even kissed. How can I go away with you? How would we live? Where would we stay?
The kiss that would have sealed their promise died unborn because of the fear she couldn’t express. Something had shattered in his eyes, and that break had echoed through her heart. She’d turned away from him and stumbled home to cry an ocean of tears.
The silver staring down at her now was intense, darkening with desire before her eyes. Her heart thudded hard and a tingle squirmed low in her belly. This wasn’t smart. She wasn’t young and naive anymore. She’d grown up, hadn’t she? She should know better. He was Brynna’s brother. A friend. Nothing more. Brynna was her best friend. Brynna would see this as betrayal. And there was so much hurt between all of them. Why add more chaos to an already full slate?
Because he was here, and she needed to feel the surge of power his keen, smoky gaze could stir. She didn’t want to think about Brynna hurt and alone in her house, of another person possibly killed by Rafe because of her.
Fueled by the twin flames of terror and temptation, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Gray’s. Warm. Wonderful. He tasted of coffee and something infinitely more potent.
Her name rasped from between his lips, half like a prayer, half as if he were in pain. “Abbie, I—”
She slid her legs over his and raked her fingers through his short hair, tipping his head back. He closed his hands over her shoulders and made as if to push her back.
“Maybe we—” he started, but she cut him off by deepening her kiss.