Treasures aka See How She Dies

by Lisa Jackson

  “Damn that woman,” he muttered, but he was up for the dare and hoisted himself onto the back of his buckskin. Within seconds he was chasing her, the trees and river flashing by in his peripheral vision, his objective, a woman with streaming black hair, in his sights.

  Right or wrong, he was going to catch her, and when he did, he was damned sure the earth would move again.

  The last thing Adria expected was for Zach to change his mind, and so quickly. But after she’d talked for hours with reporters and they were virtually assured that her face and story would be in the news yet again, he grew restless and told her that they’d leave and head back to Portland as she’d wanted. First thing in the morning.

  Her feelings were ambivalent. She’d love to close off the rest of the world, to stay here with Zach and pretend that nothing else mattered, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t about to give up now.

  While Zach was outside, cutting firewood, Adria poured herself a glass of wine and strolled into the den. Cedar walls and a river-rock fireplace surrounded a room filled with worn furniture, baskets of old magazines, and Indian blankets used as throws. Watercolors of horses and cattle and peaceful ranching scenes adorned the rough-cut walls. It was a cozy, well-used room that smelled faintly of ashes and burnt wood. She imagined Zachary spending his evenings here, his boots kicked off, the bottoms of his stockinged feet propped on the timeworn ottoman. A cozy vision, a warm thought, something she could envision herself being a part of. But that was crazy. Just because they’d made love, she was already fantasizing that they had a future together.

  Stupid.

  She ran her fingers along the spines of the books in the bookcase and found, tucked in a corner of one shelf, an old album with pictures of the family.

  “I didn’t know I still had that,” Zach said, glaring at the album as he entered the room with an armload of firewood. The wind swept in with him and she smelled the scents of pine and musk mingling with the smoke as he struck a match on the stone hearth and lit the dry kindling. Flames crackled and sparked and she curled in a corner of the couch.

  “I poured you a glass,” she said, nodding toward her wine. “In the kitchen.”

  He returned with a bottle of beer as well as the glass of wine and set the stemmed glass on the coffee table for her. Then he lowered himself into a chair opposite her, twisted off the cap of his beer, and watched her as she sipped her chardonnay and slowly turned page after page.

  “You won’t find much in there.” He drank slowly, and she felt his eyes upon her. Restless eyes.

  “Is that right?” She didn’t stop gazing at the flat images. The pictures in the album were old and a little faded, some of the color washed out. Though there were none of Eunice, some spaces pointedly blank, a page yellowed around an empty spot where a snapshot had been removed, there were a few of Zachary, never smiling, always sullen, glaring at the camera as if it were his enemy.

  There were shots of Katherine, too, playful poses where she smiled and flirted with the lens, a natural tease in front of the camera. Adria bit her lip as she studied the pictures and her heart twisted at a photograph of Katherine carrying a dark-haired toddler on her hip.

  Zach took a long pull on his bottle, then bent over the fire again, tossing in two chunks of mossy maple.

  “You never really told me about her,” Adria said, as Zach dusted his hands and stared at the hungry yellow flames licking the new wood. “You just dance around the issue.”

  “I thought we already had this discussion.”

  “As I said, ‘danced around’ the issue.”

  “There wasn’t much to tell. She accused me of helping kidnap London and then later, when I tried to console her, one thing led to another and we ended up in the sack. Witt found out and threw me out. End of story.”

  “Except that you fell in love with her.”

  He snorted. “Don’t try to put any romantic spin on it, okay? I was a horny kid and she was a desperate woman who was hurting. I should never have…oh, hell, what does it matter? It was years ago. And she’s dead.” A muscle worked in his jaw and he took a long swallow from his beer.

  “And you blame yourself?”

  “No? Yes? Oh, who knows. She committed suicide because she never got over London’s disappearance, I guess.” He gazed at the fire. “Maybe I played a part in it. Who knows?” He glanced back at her. “But it was odd-the suicide. Katherine…well, she was one of those people who took a big bite out of life, and sure, she was destroyed when her baby disappeared and I guess she was despondent, but she never struck me as the type of person who would actually take her own life.” He shook his head and took a long pull from his bottle. “It always bothered me.”

  “Because you loved her.”

  “Stop it, Adria. I didn’t love her. Ever. It was just a physical thing that happened.” He turned and glared at her. “If you want to know if it would have continued if Witt hadn’t caught us, who knows? Maybe. Depended on a lot of things. I didn’t want to start something with her, I knew it was trouble, but I was young, randy, and the opportunity presented itself. Every day I wish I’d been a whole lot smarter about it, but, considering what happened today, it looks like I’m still not.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Low blow, Danvers.”

  “It’s been a day for ’em. And don’t go into this holier-than-thou routine, okay? ’Cuz it just won’t wash. You’re sitting there half condemning me for being with my stepmother and yet you could be my half-sister and it didn’t stop you, did it?”

  The album dropped to the floor. “I don’t think we should go there.”

  “Not a pretty picture, is it?” He took a swig from his bottle and gnashed his teeth.

  Adria felt as if she’d been slapped. She struggled to her feet and backed away from him. “I’m not-”

  He moved swiftly, pushing her back onto the couch, placing his hand on either side of her, imprisoning her in the old cushions. His head was so close to hers she could see the pores on his face, smell the beer on his breath. “Isn’t that why you’re here, London? Isn’t that all part of the plan? To prove that you’re my baby sister and-”

  “No!” she cried, unwilling to believe what he insisted was the truth. She sprang from the couch and he caught her in arms as strong as steel bands.

  “I warned you-”

  “You made vague insinuations. But not this. Never this! You could have told me that you…you-”

  “That I what?” he said, holding her gaze with his. “That I made love to the woman who could be your mother?”

  “That you fell in love with her!” The words cracked through the room like the sharp unleashing of a whip.

  “I was not ‘in love’ with her. I already told you. “She was hot, Adria. And I was a horny kid. I don’t have any excuses. It was wrong.”

  “So that’s why Witt cut you out of his will.”

  His smile was hard. “One of the reasons.”

  “Oh, God. How did you ever look him in the eye again?” she asked.

  “When she began sleeping with Jason, the old man kind of forgave me. It took a while, but we struck a deal. I got the ranch and he got his old hotel restored like he wanted it.” His fingers cut into her flesh. “You asked why Kat killed herself,” he said. “Because of me. Because of Jason. Because of London and Witt. Because of the curse of being a Danvers-the curse you’re so ready to embrace!”

  She shoved away from him, dragging in ragged gulps of air, her eyes as dark as midnight. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is,” she spat and watched as a muscle worked in his jaw. For a minute she thought he might kiss her again and a part of her still wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to make love to him…

  “I don’t think it could be,” he said and stormed out of the room and decided to get drunk. No, not just drunk, but stinking, shit-faced, falling-down drunk. He grabbed his coat and strode outside. The temperature had dropped and a few light flakes of snow were beginning to fall. He’d find a woman. A woman witho
ut any strings attached. A woman looking for a one-night stand. A woman who wouldn’t even ask him his name.

  He slammed the door behind him, rattling the windows.

  Manny, despite the cold, was seated in a rocking chair on the porch of a small cabin at one end of the parking lot. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth and he was whittling as he listened to the transistor radio in the window. He looked up as Zach passed him on the way to his Jeep. “You leaving?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks like you could spit nails.”

  “For starters.”

  “When you comin’ back?”

  “Don’t know.” He cocked his head toward the main house. “Watch her, will ya?”

  “I’m a Paiute, Danvers, not a friggin’ jailer.”

  “Just make sure she stays put, and no one shows up here and tries to get to her. I won’t be gone long.”

  “Woman trouble,” Manny said, his expression unchanging. He drew on the cigarette and smoke shot from his nostrils. “The worst kind.”

  “Amen.” Climbing into his Jeep, Zach stabbed the key into the ignition, fired the engine and roared away from the ranch house. What the hell was it with him? First Kat, now a woman who looked so much like her it was eerie-damned eerie.

  Somehow, some way, he had to get away from her and break free of this circle of sin that kept spinning around him, trapping him in its dangerous, life-crushing, but oh-so-erotic coils.

  They left the ranch the next evening and didn’t say a word on the way back to Portland. That suited Zach just fine. His head was pounding from his intimate relationship with Jack Daniel’s the night before, his only relationship. He’d never gotten past a brief nod of his head toward the blonde who’d shown him so much interest last night. Her easy smile and freckles had been cute, her full breasts obviously restrained by a tight yellow T-shirt, but he couldn’t drown memories of Adria with any amount of liquor. He’d turned down the blonde and she’d found another, more willing cowboy. Zach had nearly drowned himself in whiskey. Manny had sent a ranch hand to town to collect him.

  And today he was paying. Shit, was he paying.

  He slid a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose to break the glare of sunlight off the road, but truth to tell, the sun was hidden behind a heavy bank of clouds and his eyes ached from too much whiskey, the sting of smoke, and lack of sleep.

  He flipped on the radio, listened to the tinny sound of country music and wished he knew what the hell he was going to do with Adria when he got to Portland. He’d called the police but so far there were no significant leads, at least none they would confide to him. Or Adria.

  Adria.

  So far she hadn’t told him her plans but he suspected she intended to ditch him. Hell, he couldn’t blame her-he’d been cruel to her last night, but it was the only way he could get away from her, and he had to get away. For both of them. And yet he had to protect her from whoever it was who was stalking her.

  As they drove into the city, he said, “I booked a room for you.”

  “Let me guess-it’s not at the Orion,” she said sarcastically. She didn’t even glance in his direction.

  “You’ll be safe at the hotel.”

  Turning hostile eyes in his direction, she silently accused him “Safe? Are you crazy? Safe from whom?” A dark, skeptical eyebrow rose imperiously over her eyes. “The Danvers family? The person who attacked me? You? I don’t think so.” She saw the vexation in his eyes and told herself she didn’t care. “Isn’t staying at the Hotel Danvers like taking a suite in a lion’s den?”

  “Not when I have control of the situation.”

  “Oh great, you have control,” she mocked.

  “All right. You name it then.”

  “I don’t know. Just take me to my car and I’ll-”

  “Your car isn’t fixed yet.”

  “Not fixed? But it was running just fine-”

  He snorted. The mechanic had called this morning. “I don’t know what you call fine in Podunk, Montana, but according to a man who knows his way around a Chevy, you need new brakes, shocks, spark plugs, fan belt, the list goes on and on-”

  “Fabulous! Don’t tell me. You authorized him to do it!” She couldn’t begin to imagine how she could afford to get the little Nova out of hock.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you a car. One that’s dependable.”

  “I don’t want your help, Zach-”

  “But-”

  “Or your pity.”

  “You need a car.”

  “Or your stubborn streak. Okay? Just take me to the airport. I’ll rent one there,” she said crisply. Everything was spinning out of control and she had to get a grip on her life, find out the truth, and then decide what she was going to do.

  He shot her a glance. “You should stay with me.”

  “Oh, where it’s safe?” she threw back, unable and unwilling to hide her sarcasm.

  “Yes.”

  “Forget it.”

  He sliced her a look, then drove on, past the turnoff to the airport and headed straight into the heart of the city. He didn’t stop the Jeep until he was in the parking lot of the Hotel Danvers.

  So furious she could barely see straight, she said, “I’ll just call a cab,” as he hauled her bag out of the back.

  “Fine.”

  “Being here is a big waste of time.”

  “Whatever you say.” He punched the button for the elevator with his elbow and waited, holding her suitcase in one big hand, the toe of his boot tapping in irritation. The car arrived, he waited for her to step in, and they sped upward to the lobby. At the front desk, he pulled the manager aside. Gray stare drilling into the shorter man’s eyes, he ordered, “Ms. Nash needs a private suite with only one key. No one, save Ms. Nash, is to have access to the room. And that includes any of the staff, or any of my family-is that understood?”

  “Absolutely.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “And I want round-the-clock security by her door, a man posted-”

  “No. Zach, this is ridiculous,” she interjected.

  “-twenty-four hours a day. When she’s in the room and when she isn’t, a guard will be there. Got it?”

  “Of course, Mr. Danvers.”

  “She’ll take phone calls, and guests can wait in the lobby after she screens them, but no one, not even Jason, is to rescind this order. If anyone tries, I want to be notified immediately. I’ll be in my usual rooms. And she doesn’t need to register. She’s my guest.”

  “Yes, Mr. Danvers,” the manager said crisply. He slid the key across the desk to Adria and she, grinding her teeth together in frustration, accepted it. For the time being. Just until she could rent a car and relocate.

  Zachary wasn’t finished. “I’ll take her bag up myself and as far as you know, the person who’s in the rooms is a VIP and no one, I mean no one, is to know that she’s here.”

  Adria started to protest, but held her tongue. Let him do this. It would take only a few more minutes and then she would be totally independent. Or would she? A contrary part of her heart begged to differ as she watched him, all quiet authority and rugged good looks. Telling herself that she could force herself to be immune to him, she followed Zach into the elevator, where his presence all but dominated the little car, and up to the sixth floor to a corner suite with several rooms, fireplace, private veranda, and Jacuzzi. He tossed her bag onto the couch and locked the door behind him. It clicked so loudly she nearly jumped.

  “I’d feel better if I stayed with you,” he said, cocking his head at the floral couch where her bag rested.

  “I think, under the circumstances, that would be a big mistake,” she said, but already, her pulse was jumping. The thought of being alone with him caused a warm, wanton sensation deep in the pit of her stomach.

  “I can’t protect you if I’m not with you,” he said. The distance between them was only a few feet and she could barely stand it.

  “And I can’t protect m
yself if I am with you.” She rested her rear against the ledge of the window. “This has gone too far, Zachary, and I’m not blaming you. It happened between us and it was a mistake…I can see that now, but I don’t know, I’m just not sure that I can trust myself if you’re here with me.” She spoke from the heart and she felt as if she were shredding inside because a part of her longed to be held by him, to kiss him, to feel his hands upon the crook of her waist. She bit her lip before she said something that she shouldn’t.

  “This is your call, Adria,” he said, his voice low and soft, almost a caress.

  Her heart shattered. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, the taste of his skin, the way he sighed against her ear. “Then it’s the way it has to be.”

  Zach’s shoulders stiffened and the brackets around the corners of his mouth grooved deep. “I’m in 714.”

  Her throat closed in on itself at the mention of the suite from which London had been stolen all those years ago.

  “Call me if you need me.”

  I need you. I need you now! Her fingers curled over the window ledge and she held back the urge to run to him.

  Back ramrod-stiff, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  Swearing under his breath, Zach pulled into the parking lot of the headquarters of Danvers International. The lot was closed, but he used a special card and the gates opened as if for royalty. Danvers royalty.

  He hadn’t been happy about leaving the hotel, knowing that Adria would probably bolt, but he’d talked to Detective Stinson to advise her and knew that Adria was keeping in touch with the police. Right now, Zach had to find answers and any he’d gotten from Jason on the telephone had been evasive and vague. He’d called, tracked his brother to the offices, and decided that if he had to, he’d knock Jason senseless, because it was time to find out the truth.

  Before he fouled up Adria’s life forever.

  Spoiling for a fight, he parked in a spot reserved for a vice president and took the elevator to the floor housing the suite of executive offices. During the day the building was crawling with people; at night it seemed like a tomb.