Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  “Nintendo. Man, I wanted that,” he said reminiscently. “Mom said I couldn’t go to Tony’s house anymore.”

  Hearing his smugness and guessing how much time he’d undoubtedly spent there, she laughed. Ric, at least, had been allowed to run wild within the neighborhood. She’d never had that chance. Maybe she never would have, even if she’d stayed with Dad and Ric. After Mom was murdered, their father would have locked them down.

  Gabby would be grateful to Aunt Isabel for the rest of her life. How could she have stayed in this house?

  She pulled her wandering thoughts back. How strange it was that she could see Mom glowering at Ric, her hands planted on her hips and her eyes narrowed, and feel no more than the warmth of a memory.

  Gabby went to the window and lifted the blinds to look out at the backyard. Dad used to have a vegetable garden at one end, and he’d improvised a batting cage for Ric to practice hitting. She remembered the crab apple tree, beautiful in bloom but hard on Dad’s attempts to keep a lawn growing beneath it.

  “The fence needs replacing,” she commented.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I guess you don’t garden, huh?”

  He grimaced. “I try to keep up the front yard. And I mow.”

  The flower bed in front was currently bare, frozen earth, of course, except for the sticks of what were probably a few roses. And the climbers tied to the arbor close to the sidewalk. That almost had to have been rebuilt, it occurred to her, although of course it was unchanged from her memories.

  “I’m done,” she declared. “I’ve seen all I want to see.”

  “I’m sorry.” His regretful dark eyes met hers. “I guess thinking you’d stay here wasn’t realistic, was it?”

  “Maybe if the whole house had been drastically remodeled, but I’m not even sure about that,” she admitted.

  “Listen, I was hoping you’d take a few hours to go through the stuff in storage with me. I’ve been paying for the unit ever since Dad died, and I don’t even know what’s in it. We can probably get rid of most of it, and I can move the rest to the garage.”

  “Sure, I can do that. Do you want to go this afternoon?”

  “Why don’t I take tomorrow off instead? I think this qualifies as a personal day.”

  Once they were downstairs, she averted her eyes so she didn’t have to see the kitchen again. Ric insisted on stepping outside first and taking a careful look around before letting her join him. Had Jack given him basic bodyguard instructions?

  Once they were in his SUV and he’d fired it up, he said, “If I decide to stay in the house, I’m having the kitchen ripped down to the studs and remodeled.” He added on a burst of anger, “To hell with Dad.”

  She laid a hand over Ric’s, white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Neither said another word about the house.

  * * *

  JACK HAD HOPED to spend Monday with Gabby, but this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind. For one thing, he’d envisioned the two of them together, not the three of them.

  Building trust was the idea. Today’s outing to the storage facility instead had him in his Tahoe, trailing a block behind Ric’s vehicle, keeping adequate distance to be sure no one else was following them. Once they got there and slid open the metal door into the unit, which faced the street, his role was to stand guard, obviously armed.

  Damn, he wished this had been an internal unit in one of the more modern facilities, but according to Ric, his dad had rented this one not that long after his wife’s death. Storage facilities were a lot more stripped down in those days. Someone passing on the street would be able to catch a glimpse into the unit, which he didn’t like.

  He was dismayed to see how much was crammed in here, although it became apparent that furniture provided the bulk.

  Neither Ric nor Gabby wanted to keep any of the furniture.

  A black pickup truck with a canopy slowed on the street and turned into the facility. The gate slid open, which meant the driver had a code. Jack watched as it headed for a different aisle. After waiting a minute, he strolled far enough to see that it had stopped in front of a unit, and a man and woman were already unloading some apparently heavy plastic tubs to add to whatever they’d already stashed.

  He shook his head and went back to his position in front of the Ortiz unit. Ric and Gabby had come up with a system by now; everything to get rid of that was too big to go in the back of Ric’s SUV was being moved to one side of the unit, potential keepers to the other side.

  Since they had to work their way toward the back wall, the stuff spilled out onto the concrete in front of the unit and leaned against fenders. More of a screen, letting him relax a little.

  When Ric passed him carrying a scratched end table, Jack said, “You can load the back of my Tahoe, too, if you want. Why don’t you put the stuff for the dump in my vehicle? I don’t mind taking it.”

  “Thanks. That would help. I can run by the thrift store.”

  Gabby approaching carrying a ratty artificial Christmas tree in a torn black plastic bag. After putting it in the bed of his truck, she grinned at him. “I’m sure I speak for Ric, too, when I say that if you see anything you really like, feel free to keep it.” She bumped his hip with hers and went back the way she’d come, leaving him smiling.

  Things slowed down when she and her brother started opening boxes and going through the contents.

  Jack felt edgy, needing to keep an eye both on the street and anyone entering the facility, but also on what Ric and Gabby were handling. Would they recognize the “evidence” Colleen had used to threaten her killer? Or had she made it up, and there never was any such thing? If it was real...what could it be?

  If she’d taken a photo showing something incriminating—say, two men together who shouldn’t have been—her son and daughter would undoubtedly toss it. He assumed they’d keep family photos, but ones of strangers? That was the kind of crap people left for their children to throw out.

  He wanted to look at all the photos. He might recognize someone Ric wouldn’t. It would be really helpful if Gabby gasped and cried, “That’s him! Oh, my God, that’s him!”

  Jack wished he knew whether she’d seen the killer’s face or not.

  They worked until almost two o’clock, anxious to finish. The “keep” pile was pathetically small after two-thirds of the things their father had thought should be saved for posterity had been packed in one or the other SUV, destined respectively for the dump or the thrift store.

  Jack, of course, had every intention of taking the discarded stuff home with him. He’d at least look through the boxes of smaller stuff, paper and photos. What little the brother and sister wanted to keep was to remain in storage temporarily. Ric planned to come back for it and close out the locker. It should be safe enough. Jack could ask to go through it later.

  When? a voice murmured in his head. After Gabby’s gone?

  He didn’t want her going anywhere.

  He rode Ric’s bumper on the way to a nearby café, where they took a booth and ordered.

  Jack’s fingers and face started tingling as the warmth penetrated. Gabby gave an exaggerated shiver. “That was fun.”

  “You could have come in the summer,” Ric pointed out.

  Her expression closed. “This was...a good time for me to take a break.”

  Did Ric still not know she’d quit her last job and was completely at loose ends right now? Jack started speculating on whether there might be a suitable opening at a local college. Even if a major university wouldn’t hire her without the PhD, there were plenty of community colleges, both here in the Spokane area and across the border in Idaho. What if he suggested she looked?

  “You know, that was actually kind of depressing,” she said suddenly. “I mean, did Dad really think he was saving treasures for us?”

  Ric sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. �
��No, I think with Mom gone, he just wanted a lot of stuff out of sight. Probably out of mind.”

  Sounding doubtful, Gabby said, “There wasn’t much there that was hers that seemed personal. You know?”

  “No. Well, family pictures.”

  “That’s true.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, if he was going for the ‘out of mind’ goal, he wouldn’t have encased the house in amber.”

  Her brother looked disturbed. “Maybe Dad just hated a messy garage.”

  “There is the basement.”

  Ric shook his head. “Remember that time it flooded? What little was down there got ruined.”

  Jack hadn’t noticed a door leading to a basement, and was annoyed with himself. “Isn’t the furnace down there?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

  “Yeah, but it was installed on a concrete pedestal, so it was okay. The basement is only a partial, anyway. It sits under maybe half the house.”

  “Well, you’ll have room for what you’re saving in the garage, but everything that was in storage would have taken up most of it.”

  “Yeah, Dad never did like clutter.”

  Jack saw a fleeting expression on Gabby’s face that cramped his chest. Sadness. Grief. Not having to do with the stuff they’d gone through today, he guessed, but with the fact that there had to be a lot about her father she’d forgotten, or never known.

  Ric showed no signs of noticing. Jack increasingly thought of him as a friend—but in holding on to his anger, Ric had been more than a little insensitive to his sister’s feelings.

  Jack grimaced. Like he was anyone to judge, given that he’d been using and manipulating both of them. Guilt pierced him again, but he was doing this for the right reasons.

  He just wished he thought Gabby would see it that way.

  * * *

  “WHEN DID YOUR parents get divorced?” Gabby asked, being nosy but figuring her question wasn’t unreasonable considering how much Jack knew about her life. She licked her fingers. Barbeque was messy.

  Ric had claimed to have a date tonight. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe he’d just had enough of her company today. Truthfully, the tour of the house yesterday and the hours today spent sifting through the detritus of their past had been pretty intense. She was kind of glad to have a break from her brother, so she didn’t blame him if he felt the same.

  Of course, that left Jack stuck with asking her out, but she’d have said no if she’d gotten any vibe that he didn’t actually want to spend the evening with her. He did say he’d have made dinner for them at home, except he hadn’t grocery shopped all week. Red had tinged the angular line of his cheekbones when he said that, which made her wonder.

  It was just as well, though. Being alone with him in his place would have challenged her ability to resist temptation. She’d have ended up in bed with him, and her deepest instincts said that this was too soon even if she wanted to disregard her fear of feeling too much for him, given that a future together was really unlikely.

  Jack’s eyes darkened as he watched her trying not to drip sauce down her front. More than that, a glint in those eyes told her he was aroused. Um, maybe that had to do with her licking her fingers. She grabbed a wad of napkins.

  He pulled his gaze away, looked down at his own plateful of ribs, and reached for one. “Ah, I don’t know if I said this, but my parents split not that long after your mom died.”

  “Really? Did you expect it?”

  He shook his head. “I was a kid. They weren’t yelling at each other, so what’d I know?” He tore meat off the bone with strong white teeth and demolished the rib in no time. His cleanup was more efficient than hers. “You know my father was briefly looked at for your mother’s murder,” he said abruptly.

  She stared at him. “No. Once I was twenty or so, I pulled up all the articles I could find on the investigation, but there was never anything about that. I thought they’d never identified any suspects.”

  “I’m surprised. It was common knowledge around here. You know how people talk.”

  Gabby nodded. Wow, was this weird, or what? “Dad wouldn’t have told me anything like that when he called. If he was more open with Aunt Isabel, she wouldn’t have passed on anything he said.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “It was mostly your mother who drove the carpool, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, the only job she had was doing the bookkeeping for Dad’s business. You might remember him. He had a furnace repair business. He came out to your house something like a week before your mother was killed.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know why I remember that, but I do. He was nice. Most people got tired of my questions really fast, but he didn’t.” She studied him. “You look a lot like him, don’t you?”

  He shifted in a way that suggested discomfort. “People say so. I never think about it.” He eyed her. “You don’t exactly look like either of your parents.”

  “Maybe not my face, but obviously I got the black hair from Dad, but my eyes and lighter skin from Mom. I can see Dad when I look at Ric except he got Mom’s height and, wouldn’t you know, I got the short genes from Dad’s side of the family.” She still felt aggrieved about that. “His mother wasn’t even five feet tall.”

  Jack obviously wanted to smile, but didn’t. “How tall are you?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I claim five foot three, but my doctor says five foot two and a half.”

  Something about the way she said that made him laugh.

  When her heart skipped a few beats, she decided to get back to the original topic of conversation.

  “So, why did the police even consider your father back then? Just because he’d been at the house so recently?”

  “Partly.” He seemed to be watching her closely. “You described the killer as wearing all blue, too. His uniform was navy blue.”

  “I remember saying that.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  Gabby refused to give away her discomfort with body language. All she said was, “It’s hazy.” Except something tickled at her. She just didn’t know what.

  His hand closed over hers. His warmth and strength anchored her. She just hoped her hand wasn’t greasy.

  “Hey. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to go there.”

  Wasn’t he? Yet somehow he kept circling back to her mother’s murder. Maybe it was the cop in him, or maybe that was just natural, given that it reared so hugely in both their memories. And then a thought struck her.

  “How could the police talking to your father have anything to do with your parents breaking up?”

  “I don’t know how much it did. I think my mom was embarrassed by the gossip. From things he’s said, there were already fractures. He’s never been willing to talk about it, and neither was she.” His expression closed down. “I don’t have much of a relationship with my mother.”

  “I’m sorry.” Gabby squeezed his hand, hoping she returned some of the comfort he’d offered her. “It would almost be easier to have parents break up if they’d been fighting or...or if there was abuse. Then it might be a relief instead of a shock.”

  He grimaced. “Maybe.”

  They both ate in silence for a minute. When he spoke again, it was to ask more about her aunt taking her away, and whether Gabby had had any understanding of what was happening.

  As she answered, Gabby thought about how different this was from her typical dates. It felt as if they were truly opening up with each other. Sharing the experiences that made them the people they were, instead of sticking with superficialities. Of course, they’d never been strangers to each other, even though she didn’t remember him ever saying a word to her when they were children. Why would he? She was just a way younger sibling. Ric probably grumbled about her to his friends. Still, they had in common a time and place...and it sounded as if her mo
m’s murder might have had an impact on his parents’ divorce. Which bothered her on some level she didn’t want to think about.

  It was easy to segue from talking about her stern but loving aunt to that never-ending dissertation.

  Of course, at the end of the evening Jack walked her up to her room, and insisted on “clearing it” before she could do more than hover in the doorway.

  “Bathroom is secure,” he reported with a lopsided grin as stepped past her and allowed her to back into the room.

  Her “good to know” sounded a little breathless. His eyes were intense, heated, and she knew he’d retreated into the hall to give her more choice about what happened next.

  “Gabby?”

  His low, husky voice played a chord low in her belly. She quivered, stepped forward and flung her arms around his neck.

  Jack growled something, she had no idea what, and kissed her. One of his hands wrapped her neck, the other covered her hip and buttock so he could lift her. His tongue was in her mouth, the ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach. Gabby wanted to climb him, wrap her legs around his waist. She wanted...

  He swung her in a slow circle. Her shoulder collided with the door frame, but she didn’t care. She ended up plastered against the short section of wall that formed an entry to her hotel room, Jack’s long, hard body pinning her. His hands roved, and she held on for dear life.

  Every so often, he lifted his head to let them both breathe, the blaze of his eyes making her shudder. But this time, his gaze flicked to the side, and Gabby knew: he was looking at the bed. And, even as longing cramped low in her belly, all her qualms ignited, too.

  She pushed against him, and he fell back, something like shock on his face. Had he been that sure of her?

  “Good night.” Not feeling coherent, the one word was the best she could manage, and there might have been a tremor in her voice.

  Jack gave his head a small shake and said hoarsely, “Yeah. I’ll, uh, check in tomorrow.”

  After closing the door, leaving him out in the hall, she couldn’t remember if she’d said another word.