by Julie Rowe
“You mean there could be more attacks like this?”
“Maybe, if we don’t get a warning out.”
“Jason knows who to contact,” Willa said. “We’ll pass the word to all the settlements.”
The hunter smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Then Liam winced. “Jason is going to kill me for getting his plane all dented up.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” she protested.
“Somehow I don’t think he’s going to agree with you.” He shook his head. “Damn.”
It took four hours to transfer planes, fly Pete to Fairbanks and back to Stony Creek. Pete’s friend, Harold, flew back with them then left to tell Pete’s family what happened. Pete’s skull fracture had turned out to be minor enough that he regained consciousness by the time they left Fairbanks. The doctors had estimated he’d have two or three days in the hospital before he could go home.
By the time Liam got her back to the clinic it was late, after 6:00 p.m. Willa walked in and dropped her equipment unceremoniously on the floor.
“Tired?” he asked, coming in with the last of her stuff.
“What comes after tired?” Her stomach rumbled loudly. “Right now, I could eat anything.”
“Come over to my place. I went grocery shopping yesterday.”
She gave him an exhausted smile. “Jason mentioned something called Sunday Surprise.”
Liam laughed, shook his head and held out his hand. “You shouldn’t listen to gossip. Besides, I think I can come up with something better than that.”
Willa stared at his outstretched fingers for a long second then put her hand in his.
An hour later, Liam sat her down at the small table in the kitchen of his apartment. He watched her as she tasted his chickenàla Liam, and seemed to take great satisfaction in her surprised expression.
“This is delicious,” she said with her mouth still full. She swallowed and immediately ate another forkful, closing her eyes to savor it. “I’ve got to have the recipe.”
She opened her eyes to see him looking at her with a hungry expression, as if she were dinner. He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve never divulged that to anyone.”
“Please,” she pleaded, gobbling up another mouthful. Whatever was in his sauce would be good on pork chops too. “It’s so good.”
“Nope. It’s my specialty. If I gave the recipe to every person who asked it wouldn’t be special anymore, would it?”
“But I’m not just anyone.” Maybe she’d share her recipe for her fire-engine ribs. “I live in almost total isolation from the rest of the world,” she continued, pouting just a little. “Who am I going to tell?”
Liam stared at her, the smile fading from his face, leaving an angry wrinkle between his eyes.
“Oh, never mind,” she said, taking another bite. “I doubt I’d be able to buy the spices you used anyway. If it’s fancier than salt and pepper our grocery store hasn’t got it.” She paused to savor. “This is really exceptional. You must have brought the ingredients with you from the south.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Ginger?”
“A little.”
“Garlic?”
“Nope.”
“Really?” She chewed some more. “Curry?”
“Some.”
“Ah-ha. That’s what gives it the zing.”
Liam nodded. “You have to know how much—”
“No,” Willa said, putting up a hand to stop him. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“You wanted to know a second ago,” he said, setting his fork on the table.
“I’ve changed my mind. There’s a certain magical quality to a man who can cook. I wouldn’t have expected it from you.”
“Me?”
“Jason says you’re not much of a cook.”
“Jason says?”
“Yeah. I’m working with you now, so I asked.”
The happy shine in his eyes died. “How long have you known?”
“About your cooking? I think he mentioned it to me last week.”
“No. Who I am.”
She stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds. “Are you the Queen of England’s lost nephew or something?”
“Funny.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His frown could’ve frozen a forest fire. “What do you want?”
“Is this a trick question? Some more of this chicken.”
He glared at her as if she’d insulted his manhood. Why was he so angry? “What the heck is wrong with you? I compliment your cooking, but you’re taking it like I told you it tasted horrible.”
“So you don’t know who I am?”
“I thought you were Liam, Jason’s nephew and my pilot. Have you got any other people in your head?”
He didn’t respond. The muscles in his jaw tensed, and his lips twisted into a cruel parody of a smile.
Fear ran its cold fingers up her spine. Her feet wanted to run, but she made herself stay in the chair and ask in an even tone, “Who are you?”
“Are you in this relationship with me because of who I am?”
“What relationship? You made it very clear that whatever this is, it isn’t a relationship.” The fear rose into her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply. If he’d moved, she would have bolted, but he remained where he was. She repeated her question. “Who are you?”
Liam laughed without humor. “Liam Reynolds.”
“I already knew your name.”
He leaned forward suddenly and she nearly came out of her chair. “You don’t recognize it?”
She struggled to control her breathing. “Am I supposed to?”
“I was on the news last year a lot.”
Wait…what? “I’ve been here for over two years and I don’t have time for television. Why were you on TV?”
His gaze never left her face. “The short story is, a woman tried to extort money from me.”
Money.
“Are you rich or something?”
“Define rich.”
“Someone who has a year’s salary or more in the bank.”
He shrugged. “I guess if that’s your yardstick, then yeah, I am. Really rich.”
He sat there, watching her, obviously waiting for a reaction.
She had no idea which reaction would get her out of his apartment safely.
Really rich equaled really dangerous. Her wealthy ex-husband had been a selfish bully, as had several of his friends. She’d thought Liam was different—at least he’d given her that impression over the last few weeks. Good thing she’d discovered the truth before she’d done something completely stupid, like sleep with him.
Fall in love with him.
She had to get out. Wood scraped linoleum as she rose, grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
She stopped and looked at him. Her chin quivered as she said, “Home.”
“Home?” He stood. “Wait, you don’t want anything from me?”
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “All I ever wanted was your respect.” She slammed the door behind her.
It opened a second later. “Willa, come back. I’m sorry.”
She ignored him and stumbled out of the building, her eyes full of tears, not sure how she managed the stairs without tripping down them.
He didn’t have to worry about her. She wanted nothing more from him ever again.
Willa stomped her boots repeatedly on the front step of Jason’s small house to get rid of excess snow. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. If she were honest she’d admit it made her feel better.
After last night, she’d managed to a
void Liam, but tomorrow, when he flew her to Summerset Inlet, she would have to speak to him whether she liked it or not.
Why hadn’t Jason warned her that his nephew was filthy, stinking rich? She’d been thinking about it all day, but instead of being afraid, it made her mad. The only kind of person she distrusted more than a handsome man was a rich, handsome man.
“Who’s making all the racket?” Jason’s deep crackly voice sounded unusually loud as he opened the front door.
“Me,” Willa said, frowning. She shouldered the door aside so she could walk in.
Jason coughed and stood squarely in the doorway. “Now’s not a good time for a visit.”
“I’m not here for friendly chit-chat. This is business.” She held up the midsized toolbox she used to carry medical supplies for home visits. “You want to explain why you were a no show at the clinic today?”
“I got busy.” He glanced over his shoulder at something and winced. “Couldn’t you come back tomorrow?”
“I’m in Summerset Inlet tomorrow. It’s now or I ground you.”
“That’s hard, Willa.”
“Tough. Are you going to let me in or not?”
Jason stepped aside with a sigh and she walked in. The first thing she noticed was a pair of black leather loafers in the entryway. She looked pointedly at the shoes then at Jason, one brow lifted.
He coughed. “My brother, Liam’s father, is up for a quick visit.”
“It had better be quick or he’ll end up with frostbite wearing those stupid things.”
Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “Who burnt your toast this morning?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute.” She pointed at her toolbox. “Where do you want to do this?”
“In the bedroom.”
Willa nodded, took off her boots and strode through the tiny living room.
A tall man in a suit stood as she walked by. He smiled and held out his hand. “Hi there. I’m Edward Reynolds.”
Her ingrained good manners brought her to a halt and made her shake his hand. “Willa.”
“A pleasure.” His smile looked exactly like Liam’s, which didn’t do anything good to her blood pressure.
She didn’t respond.
“Are you a friend of Jason’s?” Edward asked.
“Right now or most of the time?”
“Both.”
“Not right now, but I am most of the time.”
He smiled as if he understood and patted her on the shoulder, his fingers clinging uncomfortably. “My brother generates that reaction.”
She shook his hand off. “Your brother is the best pilot I’ve ever seen.”
“Liam’s better,” Jason put in from behind them.
“Maybe if he kept his focus on flying.”
“Sounds like you know my son…quite well,” Edward said.
His tone implied something she didn’t like. Willa glared at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifted his shoulders casually. “One wonders what kind of distractions Liam has to deal with.”
She stared at the man, resisting the urge to stuff her toolbox down his throat. He stood there, waiting for her response, a smirk hovering over his lips.
He was deliberately goading her. She’d seen that before in other more dangerous circumstances.
“I don’t like you.” She changed her stance so she stood toe-to-toe with Liam’s father, her back straight and chin high.
“Really? You’re a fast judge of character.”
“Yes, I am.” She glanced at Jason. “Ready?”
He took a step back. “Only if you promise to keep your claws sheathed.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She led the way to the bedroom. Edward Reynolds’s chuckle echoed in her ears as Jason shut the door. “Your brother’s a jerk.”
“A reaction Edward frequently generates.”
Willa dropped the box on the bed and opened it, taking out the necessary equipment to draw blood. “Let me get at a vein.”
Jason rolled up the sleeve of his sweater, the one she’d made him for Christmas last year, and presented the inside of his arm. “What’s got you so riled up?”
She pulled on a pair of gloves, wrapped a rubber tourniquet tight around Jason’s arm and tied it off then swabbed the skin over a bulging vein and inserted the needle smoothly. Blood spurted into the tube. “Why didn’t you tell me Liam was rich?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
Willa’s gaze flickered between the needle and Jason’s face. “Of course it’s important.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d never have—” She cut herself off. “I don’t like wealthy people. They’re too stuck up.”
“I’m wealthy. Am I stuck up?”
“No.”
“There goes your theory.”
“You’re nothing like Liam, he—” Again, she closed her mouth before saying too much and concentrated on completing her blood collection.
“What did he do?” Jason asked quietly.
Willa couldn’t look him in the eye. “Nothing.” She used a glucometer to check his glucose level.
“Your blood sugar is fine.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
“You were due for a check.”
“That’s not why you’re here, though, is it.”
Willa closed her mouth. She’d never been able to hide anything from Jason. She met his gaze. “No.”
“Are you two involved?”
She hesitated a moment before nodding.
“He’s a good man.”
Her head came up at that. “Is he?” Did she sound as uncertain as she thought?
“Yes.” Jason leaned forward and put an awkward hand on her shoulder, nothing like the way his brother had touched her. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong. You’re like a daughter to me. You’re not afraid to speak your mind or tell me when I’m being an ass.”
“Don’t be silly.”
Jason snorted. “Silly isn’t in my vocabulary.” He squeezed her shoulder then let her go. “Liam’s a good man, but he got burned by a woman not too long ago. Cut him a little slack.”
“What happened?”
“She tried to manipulate him into marrying her. Got pretty underhanded about it. Then my darling brother made it a thousand times worse.” He unrolled his sleeve and stood. “She wanted to get her hands on his money.”
“Oh. Oh, that explains…a lot.”
“A lot?”
Willa’s face heated up and she busied herself with putting her equipment away. “Never mind. Just an observation.” She wanted to tell Jason about the disastrous dinner the night before but wasn’t ready to discuss it with anyone.
Jason nodded. “The boy’s got reason to be cautious.” He put his hand on the door.
“Wait, what about your diabetes? We need to talk.”
“What for? It’s under control.”
“You shouldn’t be flying alone.”
“I’m short on pilots. Besides, I’m careful.”
She sighed. “Sometimes careful isn’t enough.”
Jason stared off into space, his expression pensive. “You’re thinking about grounding me.”
“I may not have a choice. You’re a sixty-six-year-old diabetic whose eyesight is—”
“Don’t remind me.” He paced back and forth a few steps then glanced at the closed door. “I have…something in the works. Give me a couple weeks to get it in place.”
She nodded. “All right, but only on the condition that you check your sugar levels before you fly. Every time. I also want you to call me with the results.”
“Yes, dear.”
Will
a laughed and closed the lid on her toolbox. God she loved this cantankerous old man. “Some things never change…Dad.”
Jason’s face relaxed and he winked at her. But his mirth didn’t last long. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll come over to your place tomorrow night and fill you in on my plan. Right now I have to deal with that idiot taking up space in my living room.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s a royal pain in the butt.”
“You two don’t get along?”
“We hate each other’s guts.”
“Ouch.” She cocked her head. “You don’t feel that way about Liam.”
“Liam is the only good thing my brother managed to produce. Thank God the boy takes after his mother.”
Willa stood and grabbed her toolbox. “Is there any way I can help?”
“No, honey, but thanks for asking,” Jason said with a slight smile on his otherwise severe face. “This is one fight Edward isn’t going to win.”
She’d seen that expression on Jason’s face before, when he’d argued with the aviation-licensing board about retaining his pilot’s license for another year. They hadn’t wanted to let him fly, not with his diabetes and failing eyesight, but he’d talked them into it.
He could be both convincing and stubborn when the occasion called for it. If his brother had come all this way north looking for a fight, Jason would give him one.
Willa gave him a thumbs-up and preceded him out of the bedroom.
“You two finish your business?” Edward asked, sprawled out comfortably on Jason’s old couch with an oily smile on his face. He looked Willa up and down.
A cold shiver rippled across her body and she shrank back. Her husband had hit her while wearing that same expression. Most of the time he was careful to do it in a place that didn’t show. Her back, her belly, her thighs. He’d left bruises that sometimes took weeks to fade. Sometimes she still felt them.
Jason stepped in front of her. “Shut your trap, Ed.”
“Just asking a question.”
“Any more questions like that and you’ll be flying that Rolls Royce you call a plane home right now.”
“Dad?”