Treasures aka See How She Dies

by Lisa Jackson

Every muscle in his body clenched. Don’t fall for this. He wanted to slam down the phone, but he didn’t. Just held his breath and waited.

  “You gotta pay me first.”

  “Fine. I’m in room 714.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Click. Zach eyed the bottle and wondered if he could finish it before he had to deal with the likes of Oswald Sweeny.

  Ignoring his crutches, he climbed off the bed, looked in the mirror, and winced. His face was still discolored and what he’d thought was a two-day growth of beard looked like it was really about six. “Shit,” he muttered as he stripped off his clothes and sat in the shower, trying not to get his damned cast wet, hoping the hot jets of water would sink into his flesh and flush away all thoughts of her. But the steamy spray did little to quiet the images that seemed to be with him always.

  He shaved, looked at his reflection, and glowered. He still looked like hell.

  Sweeny arrived to find him dipping into the bottle again. Balanced on the crutches, the bottle swinging from one hand, he opened the door. Without preamble, he asked, “How much do we owe you?”

  Oswald hesitated as he walked into the room.

  “I’ll check it out when I see Jason,” Zachary said, knowing the man was going to bluff him out of a few extra bucks. He hobbled to the desk and rested a hip on the corner. “Want a drink?”

  Sweeny smiled, showing off his little teeth, but something in Zachary’s gaze, probably the hard, dead edge, convinced him to decline. “I got a bill right here.”

  He handed it to Zach, but he didn’t bother opening it. “Tell me what else you know.”

  “Not before I get paid.”

  Zach didn’t move a muscle, just stared at Sweeny, glaring at him like the cockroach he was.

  “The papers will pay plenty for what I know.”

  “The tabloids?” Zach snorted. “Don’t cut off your balls to spite your face.”

  “All right, all right.” He held up his fleshy palms. “Look, I couldn’t just give it up. The whole London thing was too intriguing. I thought, hey, I might just write myself a book, one of those tell-all exposés.”

  The look Zach sent him stopped him short.

  “Anyway, I kept digging and guess what I found out? Your old man was impotent.” He let that sink in for a minute, but Witt’s limp dick wasn’t big news. Not to Zach. What was Sweeny getting at?

  “That’s right,” Sweeny said when Zach’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his glass. “Witt Danvers couldn’t get it up, at least not very often. Not often enough to ensure him siring another child-fathering London. I checked, and it took a while, but I found out that your stepmother, while she was supposed to be visiting friends in Victoria, really ended up at a clinic in Seattle where she got herself artificially inseminated by a private donor.”

  Zach’s head snapped up. “What are you saying?”

  Sweeny grinned that evil, little smug grin as if glad that he’d finally got Zach’s attention. “I’m telling you that Adria Nash is London Danvers, but she’s not Witt Danvers’s kid, not technically-or biologically-speaking.”

  The glass fell from Zach’s hand and Scotch splashed on the floor and the bottoms of his jeans. His head pounded.

  “If she were alive, she’d still inherit it all, I suppose. It would take a team of lawyers to figure it out, but since she was the kid Witt was so crazy about, she’d still be his princess-heiress to it all, and since half your family is dead or behind bars, she’d get it. No doubt?”

  “If she were alive,” Zach ground out, his lips barely moving.

  “Yeah, well…nothin’ I can do about that.”

  “You can substantiate this, I assume.”

  “Of course. Records could be pulled-court-ordered, you know-and I found a nurse who’s willing to talk. It’s just a shame that London’s dead.”

  Zach carried his bags down to the hotel lobby. He’d stayed in Portland longer than he’d planned. It had been over a week since he’d talked with Sweeny and the media was no longer laying siege to anything with the Danvers name. He was still wearing a cast, but he could walk and he wanted to get the hell out of town. He doubted that he’d ever come back.

  It was time to move on.

  On impulse, he left his bags by the lobby desk, then mounted the stairs to the ballroom, to the first place he’d seen her. He opened the doors, half expecting her to appear, but as he snapped on the lights, he found the room empty and cold and without a breath of life.

  He was left only with memories, a bad ankle, and the sober realization that he’d never be the same.

  “Fool,” he ground out, walking inside the huge room and letting the door swing shut behind him. He remembered London on the night she was kidnapped, how impish she’d been, how precocious. Well, she’d grown into one helluva woman. Adria in the black coat or the shimmery white gown, her eyes blue, her lips teasing-a little naughty and a little nice.

  He felt dead inside.

  But, he was a practical man. At least he always had been. Whether he liked it or not, he’d have to face the fact that she was gone, that he’d loved her, and that he’d never love again. It was probably all for the best. He wasn’t cut out for emotional entanglements. Again the hot tears stung his eyes and he swore at himself. He didn’t believe in grieving. It didn’t solve a thing.

  Angry with himself, he switched off the lights and left the room. He would drive to Bend and then get so drunk Manny would have to drive him home, but he wouldn’t go looking for a woman. Not for a long, long time.

  He had parked on the street and as he carried his bags outside he felt the pale heat of the winter sun filtering between the towering office complexes and past the leafless trees that had been planted in front of the hotel. Sunlight danced on the wet streets and he slipped a pair of shaded aviator glasses onto the bridge of his nose before he rounded the corner and stepped toward the Jeep, only to stop dead in his tracks.

  She was there, one jean-clad hip propped against a fender, her eyes as blue as the sky, her witch-wild hair catching in the breeze. A vision.

  “What the-”

  “You gonna stand there all day with your mouth hanging open, or are you gonna take me home?” she said and her voice cut a slice right out of his heart.

  “Adria-”

  It couldn’t be!

  His heart kicked into double time, but he wouldn’t believe the image. He couldn’t.

  “Well, cowboy?”

  His throat worked. He dropped his bags and took a step forward. With a laugh, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. Telling himself that she was real, he held her as close as he could, letting the warmth of her body seep into his, ignoring the pain in his bad ankle. “But you’re-what happened?”

  She kissed him with a passion that burned through his skin.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” she said, her voice husky. “I tried.” Her face was serious now. “I dragged myself out of the river and told myself that the best thing for you was to think I was dead. I had enough money in my pockets to rent a cheap room and I even managed to buy a few clean clothes. I waited, trying to figure out how to get my car, my ID, and go back to Montana without you ever finding out.”

  His jaw grew rock-hard. “You would let me think-”

  “Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I still thought we were brother and sister and…well, then the story came out about Katherine and the fact that I wasn’t Witt’s biological daughter and I thought…” She smiled up at him, love glistening in her eyes. “Well, I thought we could do something about that.”

  His voice was hoarse. “Why didn’t you come sooner-?”

  “I wanted to be sure. And I didn’t want to come back as London Danvers,” she said, tossing her hair out of her face. “I found out that I like being Adria Nash, that I don’t need a birthright, nor any of the Danvers money.” Her throat worked and she lifted her chin, daring him to argue with her. “I’m back here because I love you, Zachary,” she said bravely. “
I want to be with you. No strings attached.”

  He regarded her for a heart-stopping moment and his lips slowly curved. “Well, how about that?” he said. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you and I’ve gone through hell and back for you. Believe me, there’ll be strings, lady, and plenty of ’em.” Grinning he lifted her from her feet, and, hobbling a bit, carried her into the hotel. She laughed that throaty laugh that made him tingle inside and her black hair nearly swept the ground. People turned and watched, eyebrows raised; women gasped as he shouldered open the front door of the Hotel Danvers and climbed the stairs to the ballroom. Zach hardly noticed.

  Once inside the dark room, he dropped her to her feet and locked the door behind them. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her on the neck, brushing his lips over her soft skin. She wound her arms around his neck. “Now, Ms. Nash…let’s start over,” he suggested as he toyed with the top button of her blouse.

  Adria smiled at the man she loved. She wound her arms around his neck and knew that she’d come searching for her past…a life of luxury and wealth, only to discover that love was the richest treasure of all. “And let’s not stop,” she suggested.

  “Good idea.” He winked at her as her blouse parted. “This time, darlin’, we’re gonna take it real slow and do it right. Trust me.”

  “I do, cowboy,” she swore. “I do!”

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed SEE HOW SHE DIES. Rewriting TREASURES into SEE HOW SHE DIES turned out to be a big task, but I think revisiting Adria and Zach was worth the effort! The storyline for it has always been one of my favorites. I hope you agree!

  My next new novel for Zebra Books is DEEP FREEZE. If you like mystery/thrillers and romance, then you’re sure to love this one. Pick up a copy in March 2005! DEEP FREEZE is the story of Jenna Hughes, a harried single mother of two, who senses that someone is stalking her. It’s the coldest winter in fifty years in Oregon and with the first snowfall comes a cold certainty that someone is watching and waiting. Jenna fears for the lives of her two teenage daughters as well as for herself as a serial killer who calls himself The Ice Man begins to prowl and kill. As the days pass and the nights lengthen Jenna can trust no one, including Sheriff Shane Carter, a handsome but reclusive lawman. The Ice Man has his sights set on Jenna and her family as the frigid winter becomes her enemy.

  DEEP FREEZE will certainly make your blood run cold. For an excerpt of the story, just turn the page!

  Meanwhile, be certain to visit www.lisajackson.com and www.themysterymansion.com. I’ve updated the web sites and they’ve got cool contests, games and polls that I think you’ll have a lot of fun with. Write me and let me know what you think of the books, vote for your favorite character, play games, visit the lairs of the villains or take part in a quest.

  Of course, there’ s an excerpt of DEEP FREEZE on the web site, too…so check it out!

  Keep reading!

  Lisa Jackson

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Lisa Jackson’s newest romantic suspense thriller DEEP FREEZE coming in March 2005!

  She was there.

  Inside.

  Somewhere in the rambling log home.

  No doubt Jenna Hughes felt secure. Innocently safe.

  But she was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  As the first flakes of winter snow drifted from the gray sky and the wind screamed down the gorge, he watched from his hiding spot, a blind he’d built high in the branches of an old-growth Douglas fir that towered from this high ridge. Her ranch stretched out below in frozen acres that abutted the Columbia River.

  The rustic old house was the core of what he considered her compound. Graying logs and siding rising two stories to peaked gables and dormers. From lights behind the ice-glazed windows, cozy patches of light glowed against the frozen ground, reminding him of his own past, of how often he’d been on the outside, in the freezing weather, teeth chattering as he stared at the smoke rising from the chimney of his mother’s warm, forbidden house.

  But that was long ago.

  Now, focusing the military glasses on the panes, he caught a glimpse of her moving through her house. But just a teaser, not much, not enough to focus on her. Her image disappeared as she turned down a hallway.

  He refocused, caught a bit of movement in the den, but it was only the old dog, a broken-down German shepherd who slept most of the day.

  Where was she?

  Where the hell had she gone?

  Be patient, his inner voice advised, trying to soothe him.

  Soon you’ll be able to do what you want.

  The snowflakes increased, powdering the branches, covering the ground far below and he glanced down at the white frost. In his mind’s eye he saw drops of blood in the icy crystals, warm as it hit the ground, giving off a puff of steam then freezing slowly in splotches of red.

  A thrill tingled up his spine just as a stiff breeze, cold as Lucifer’s piss, screamed down the gorge, stinging the bit of skin above his ski mask. The branches above and around him danced wildly and beneath the mask, he smiled. He embraced the cold, felt it was a sign. An omen.

  The snow was now falling in earnest. Icy crystals falling from the sky.

  Now was the time.

  He’d waited so long.

  Too long.

  A light flashed on in the master bedroom and he caught another glimpse of her long hair braided into a rope that hung down her back, baggy sweatshirt covering her curves, no makeup enhancing an already beautiful face. His pulse accelerated as she walked past a bank of windows then into a closet. His throat went dry. He refocused the glasses, zoomed in closer on the closet door. Maybe he’d catch a glimpse of her naked, her perfectly honed body, an athlete’s body with large breasts and a nipped-in waist and muscles that were both feminine and strong. His crotch tightened.

  He waited.

  Ignored a light being snapped on in another part of the house. Knew it was probably one of her kids.

  Come on, come on, he thought impatiently. His mouth turned dry as sand and lust burned through his chilled blood. The master bedroom with its yellowed-pine walls and softly burning fire remained empty. What the hell was taking her so long?

  God, he wanted her. He had for a long, long time.

  He licked his lips against the cold as she reappeared, wearing a black bra and low-slung black jeans. God, she was beautiful. Nearly perfect in those tight pants. “Strip ’em, Jenna,” he muttered under breath that fogged through his insulated mask. Her breasts nearly fell from the sexy black undergarment. But she headed into her bathroom and he readjusted the lens as she leaned over a sink and applied lipstick and mascara. He saw her backside, that sweet, sweet ass straining against the black denim as she leaned closer to the mirror and within that smooth glass surface, he stared at her wide eyes, silvery green and rimmed in thick black lashes. For a second she seemed to catch his eye, to look right at him and she hesitated, mascara wand in hand. Little lines appeared between her arched eyebrows, a hint of worry. As if she knew. Her eyes narrowed and his heart pounded hard against his ribs.

  Turning quickly, she stared out the window, to the gathering darkness and the snow now falling steadily. Was it fear he saw in her hazel eyes? Premonition?

  “Just you wait,” he whispered, his voice lost in the shriek of the wind, the snow becoming thick enough that her image was blurred, his erection suddenly rock-hard as he imagined what he would do to her.

  But that instant of fear was gone and her lips pulled into a half smile, as if she’d been foolish. She flipped off the bathroom light, then headed back to her bedroom. She yanked a sweater from her bed and pulled it over her head. For a few seconds he felt ecstasy, watching as her arms uplifted and for a heartbeat she was blindfolded and trapped in the garment, but then her head poked through a wide cowl neck and her arms slid through the sweater’s sleeves. She pulled her rope of hair from the neckline and walked quickly out of view, snapping the lights off as she entered the hallway.


  Hot desire zinged through his blood at the thought of her.

  Beautiful.

  Arrogant.

  Proud.

  And soon, very soon, to be brought to her knees.

  Lisa Jackson

  ***

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