Dead Ringers

by Fossen, Delores

  “Not that I know of. But I have someone watching his office in case he turns up.”

  Oh, mercy. Dana was fighting to keep her composure, and that didn’t make her fight easier. “That means you were having me watched as well?”

  Jack nodded, and he made another of those vigilant sweeping glances around the street before he caught onto her arm. This time, he didn’t let go even when Dana stared daggers at him.

  He moved her toward the front entrance of the Purple Longhorn, so that she was sheltered from the wind and rain with the awning and with his own body.

  “Remember that part about this being the kill zone?” he asked. Obviously rhetorical since he continued without her answer. “That means I’d prefer not to stand out in the open, so let’s go inside now.”

  Dana shook off his grip and moved deeper beneath the awning until her back was pressed against the door. “Tell me what you just learned from that call.”

  He made a deep groan that could have meant anything, or nothing, and he finished buttoning his crisp white shirt. Something she was thankful he did. For reasons she didn’t want to explore, looking at that angry scar made her feel things for him she didn't want to feel.

  That had happened one too many times since she’d met him.

  Lust was dangerous enough. But empathy terrified her.

  “Something should be arriving soon,” he explained. Which, of course, explained nothing. “I’ll know more then. After that, we should leave and go to the safe house.”

  Dana huffed. “We’re back to that whole protective custody offer?”

  “It’s the only way I can keep you alive.”

  Coming from any other man, that would have sounded arrogant, or insane, but he said it with such conviction that Dana believed him. “And why would you think it’s your responsibility to keep me alive?”

  “Destiny, fate, cosmic intervention, a neighborly gesture. Sexual attraction.” Jack’s gaze snapped to hers and held. No look of distraction this time. Those amber brown eyes were hard and focused. “Take your pick.”

  “None of the above,” she countered, certain that her eyes were doing that hard and focusing act as well. “I’d prefer real answers instead of sarcasm. For starters--why is the killer coming after us?”

  He shrugged. An angry shrug, but then his expression mellowed a bit. “Anything that I’d tell you at this point would be a guess.”

  “Then, guess!” Dana's voice way louder than she wanted.

  He gave her an all-right, here-goes nod. “Maybe it’s because of the inheritance. Dr. Hartwell’s purported net worth is close to a half billion dollars.”

  Mercy, with a capital M.

  The lawyer who’d given her the letter had said millions, but he’d obviously understated it. Even if that was to be divided among six people.

  No, wait. Not six now.

  Only four remained.

  That meant each would eventually inherit a huge fortune. She didn't even know how much a fourth of a half billon was, but it sounded like a lot of reasons for murder.

  Dana considered it for a moment and groaned. “I knew it’d be trouble. I just knew it. That’s why I’d hoped the letter was a hoax.”

  “You and me both.” Jack slid his hands into his pockets. “I figure the killer could be one of other beneficiaries, so I’m running deep background checks on everyone.”

  “Even me,” she said. “You don’t think I’m the--”

  “I don’t think that."

  Making her wonder why he’d dismissed her so easily as a suspect.

  Or why she’d dismissed him as one.

  And she had.

  She truly had.

  Which made her feel like an idiot. Hadn’t her encounter with Trey D’Angelo taught her not to trust?

  Apparently not.

  “Instincts are funny,” he commented, sounding as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Her chin came up a notch. “And are often wrong."

  “But not in this case.” He waited a moment, probably to see if she’d disagree. And she tried. God knows she tried. But the words just wouldn’t make it out of her mouth.

  “Besides,” he continued, “the most obvious suspect wouldn’t be one of us because the murders started almost immediately after the letters were delivered. That wouldn’t give the six of us much time to plan and execute the deaths of the others. It’s my guess that maybe the doctor has some distant relative who thinks that by eliminating the competition, then he or she will inherit everything.”

  It made sense. After all, people had killed for a lot less than a half billion.

  “That doesn’t explain why we were in Dr. Hartwell’s will in the first place,” Dana pointed out.

  “Then guess why." Not a demand like the one she’d given him. His voice was level. A request for help. Maybe even a reminder that whatever the reason, they were in this together.

  Not exactly a comforting thought.

  “I have several theories,” Dana admitted. “None good, but here goes anyway. Maybe all of us did something for Dr. Hartwell. Some random act of kindness perhaps. And maybe this was her eccentric way of rewarding us.”

  He reached inside his jacket and extracted a five-by-seven black and white photo. He held it up for her to see. “I haven’t been able to get pictures of the other beneficiaries, but I got this from the obituary in the newspaper. It’s Dr. Cornelia Hartwell. You recognize her?”

  Dana studied the picture, hard. And then she studied it harder. Willing herself to see a spark of recognition. But she had to shake her head. “I don’t know her.”

  “Me, either. What’s your next theory?”

  Dana had been mulling it over since the lawyer handed her the letter. “That she’s connected to my birth parents. Maybe yours, too. After all, she was a doctor. Maybe she delivered us?”

  “That’s possible, but you and I were born in different states. And Cornelia Hartwell wasn’t an obstetrician. She was a research scientist. I doubt she was in the baby delivering business.”

  That caused Dana’s heart to sink all the way to her stomach. She wanted these pieces to fit, desperately wanted that, and they didn’t. “So another theory bites the dust. Now it’s your turn--you play the guessing game.”

  He made another of those noncommittal sounds. “Maybe she had something to do with our adoptions.”

  Before Dana could even consider that, she heard the footsteps of someone approaching and started to peer around Jack to see who it was. Started was as far as she got. He shoved her behind him. Not only blocking her view. But blocking her from view of whomever was approaching.

  He didn’t stop there.

  Without making a sound, he reached into the back waist of his pants and pulled out a gun. Something small, sleek and easily hidden.

  The adrenaline slammed through her. Her instincts kicked in, and Dana tried to run. Jack stopped her from doing that as well. Using his body, he pressed her against the door of her pub and positioned his gun so that it was hidden between them.

  “Ms. McNeil?” she heard someone say.

  Jack glanced back at her, his eyebrow raised a fraction, but she had to shake her head when she caught sight of the man. He was in his late fifties or early sixties, average build. Average everything. Brown hair, brown eyes. He had one of those faces that you thought you might recognize even if you didn’t.

  “There you are,” the man called out. But while his comment was apparently meant for her, he only spared her a glance. He fastened his attention to Jack, who was still standing protectively in front of her.

  “I’m Samuel Wright,” he greeted them. “I’m a PI from Dallas. Patricia Snyder hired me to find you.”

  While she didn’t recognize the PI, she was familiar with the name of his employer. Patricia Snyder was one of the beneficiaries in the letter. And according to Jack, she was dead. Dana was about to volunteer that, but Jack spoke before she could.

  “Why'd she hire you?” Jack demanded. And there wa
s no doubt about it. It was a demand.

  The PI reacted with a slight scowl. “She called me yesterday afternoon and asked that I locate Ms. McNeil and some other people.”

  Other people no doubt meant the recipients of that letter.

  “Any luck finding them?” Dana asked.

  “Just you.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. Probably because his eyes were still on Jack. “And you are?”

  “Ted Smith.” The lie required zero effort, and Jack’s body language didn’t change one bit. “I’m Ms. McNeil’s bodyguard.”

  Dana turned her head, slowly, so she could look up at Jack and give him a questioning-glance, but he didn’t see her glance. Nor did he see anything else she was prepared to dole out to him. He had his gaze firmly planted on the PI.

  “Bodyguard?” Wright repeated.

  Not sure of what she was going to say, Dana opened her mouth, but that was as far as she got.

  “Ms. McNeil’s concerned about her safety,” Jack supplied.

  Wright nodded and swiped his hand over his face to sling off the rainwater. “I understand. I ran her background after Ms. Snyder hired me, and I read about Ms. McNeil’s old boyfriend. A person can’t be too careful.”

  Great. Now, she had multiple people digging into her past. It seemed minor compared to a possible death threat, but Dana hated that anyone knew those things about her. She hated even more that everything suddenly felt like a threat.

  “When’s the last time you spoke with Patricia Snyder?” Jack asked.

  Wright lifted his shoulder. “Not since yesterday when she hired me.”

  Hell’s bell. He didn’t know that his boss was dead. Murdered, no less.

  “You should call her,” Jack suggested. “There have been some developments that might change your terms of employment.”

  Wright nodded. Volleyed glances between Jack and her. And nodded again. “I’ll do that, and I can let her know that I located Ms. McNeil.” He paused, looked at Dana. “If you hired a bodyguard, you must think your boyfriend will be getting out on parole?”

  “I’m just being cautious.” And Dana left it at that. She had no intentions of discussing Trey with him or with anyone else.

  Wright hesitated, as if he had something else on his mind, but then he hitched his thumb toward the street. “I’ll just be going so I can make that call to Patricia Snyder.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Jack whispered the moment Wright walked away.

  She stared at the man making his exit. “Are you trying to scare me?”

  “No.” He slid his gun back into his concealed holster. “You have enough to scare you without me adding more.”

  Her breath had been playing tricks with her all day. Well, since she’d met Jack anyway. And now, her breath simply vanished. Not just from fear. No. There were plenty of other things in the mix.

  “This can’t happen,” she heard herself say.

  “It won’t. I swear, it won’t.” And as if to prove that, he stepped back.

  It didn’t help.

  Dana took her own step back.

  It didn’t help, either.

  Using it as a shield, and a pseudo chastity belt, she pulled his coat tighter around her. “I saw this show on the Discovery channel about the science of attraction. It all boils down to scent. An immune system, DNA compatibility thing so it’ll insure the survival of the human race. It has nothing to do with . . .anything.”

  And she was babbling.

  The Discovery channel?

  There might be a crazed killer after her, and she was quoting the Discovery channel. Jeez Louise, she needed meds.

  “That’s good to know,” Jack said under his breath. Not said with amusement exactly, but close. “So, if it has nothing to do with anything, why do I want to have sex with you?”

  Oh, that got her heart racing.

  And her mouth watered.

  “Right against that wall,” he added, his eyes hot and his voice hotter. He stepped closer. Caught onto her arm. Not gently. “Why do I want to tear off your clothes, wrap your legs around me and sink hard and deep into you?”

  Mercy. The image of him doing that should have disgusted her. Really, truly disgusted her.

  It didn’t.

  Instead, she felt herself go warm. A sensual heat sliding through her body.

  “You want to have sex with me only because I’m a woman and you’re a man.” Her pulse was crashing so hard in her ears that she could hardly hear herself. “That says it all, doesn’t it?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, and a dimple flashed in his cheek. It was short-lived. The darkness returned in his eyes, and he looked away and mumbled some profanity. “What will it take for me to convince you that you need to let me protect you from this killer?”

  It took her a moment, and several breaths, before she could switch gears from the sexual fantasy and answer him. “Oh, I’m sure I need the protection. I’m just not sure I can trust you to provide it.”

  He glanced around them--again--before settling his attention onto the sidewalk where Samuel Wright had just exited. “Then, how can I get you to trust me?”

  They were a long way from a trusting relationship. But somehow, they were a lot closer to bridging that gap than Dana wanted. She blamed it on the sex-against-the-wall images still going through her head. All those barriers she’d spent the past years erecting seemed to be dissolving right before her eyes. And she could blame Jack for that.

  “Well, for starters you can tell me what you know about all of this. What connects us?” she asked. “What was the first thing that came to your mind when you saw the letter and when you learned those people were dead?”

  “That it’d started again,” he mumbled.

  Of all the responses she thought Jack might give her, that wasn’t one of them. Not even close. And Dana was ready to question him about it when he lifted his left hand in a stay-quiet gesture.

  She heard the footsteps then. Not hurried and clumsy like Samuel Wright’s. Light but still audible even with the steady rain.

  Because she was still so close to Jack, she saw the muscles tighten in his jaw, saw the pulse hammer like crazy on his throat. And just like that, the adrenaline returned. Another surge. Another sickening feeling of dread that this would only get worse.

  “It’s all right,” Jack said a moment later. “He’s Anthony Garza, and he works for me.”

  She stepped to the side and looked at the man in the dark blue raincoat. Thirty-ish. Unlike Wright, this was a man who didn’t blend in. Not with those bulky muscles and Marine Corp body.

  “Mr. Cain,” the man greeted. He nodded a greeting at Dana and handed Jack a manila envelope. No address, Dana noticed. In fact, nothing was written on it. “Rusty just faxed these.”

  Jack angled his body away from her. An angle that put his shoulders in the way of her seeing what was in that package. Dana heard the rustle of paper, saw Jack’s hand dip into the envelope, and he extracted something.

  Seconds passed, slowly.

  And Dana waited to see if Jack would share with her what was so important. But he didn’t. He continued to stare at whatever had captured his complete attention.

  The pulse on his throat hammered even harder.

  “Rusty said these were in Dr. Hartwell’s office?” Jack snapped.

  His employee didn’t react to the barked question. He remained calm. Distant, even. And swept his vigilant gaze around them. “Hidden in the back of a file cabinet.”

  Jack groaned. “Shit.”

  Since this almost certainly had something to do with her, or even the murders, Dana maneuvered her way around him. Jack didn’t try to stop her. Which was a good thing. Because she had no plans to be stopped.

  He was holding an eight-by-ten color photo of a man and a woman in what could only be call a provocative pose. Not models in some precise shot. It seemed to be candid, as if the couple had no idea they were being photographed.

  Dana noted the tall dar
k man wore a tux. The woman, a strapless dress, short, snug, with a flouncy hem. She was leaning against a sporty car that was nearly the same devil-red color as her dress. The man had one hand curved possessively around the back of her neck and was leaning in for what would no doubt be a hot kiss. His other hand was skimming up her thigh. Way up her thigh.

  Then, Dana’s attention landed on the woman’s face.

  “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

  It was a photo of her.

  Except it wasn’t.

  It couldn’t be.

  She’d never worn that dress. Never had her body pressed against that car.

  And the man who had his hand moving toward her panties was none other than Jack Cain.

  Chapter Five

  Jack took a deep breath.

  Then, another.

  For reasons he didn’t want to explore, he didn’t like seeing Dana with this guy in the photo, even if the guy was a dead ringer for him. The next picture was even more graphic. Some clothing had been removed. Specifically, Dana’s top, and he could see her nipples tight and puckered against her barely there black lace bra.

  But that wasn’t all.

  The man had moved between her legs. Obviously getting ready for sex. And Dana was helping him out by sliding down his zipper. Both were flushed with arousal. Completely unaware of the camera gobbling up their images.

  Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to see the third and final photo, but like a train wreck, he couldn’t look away. He eased it on top of the others.

  Dana gasped.

  Jack cursed.

  No bra for Dana, and the man had his mouth on her left nipple. He was bare assed naked now. Her, too. And if Dana’s leg hadn’t been in the way, Jack was sure he would have seen this guy’s cock buried deep inside her.

  “That’s you,” Jack said to her. He purposely tapped her photographed right nipple. The one the guy wasn’t tongue kissing.

  “Not a chance,” she said without hesitation.

  He stared at her. His eyebrow came up. “Not a chance?”

  “Not a chance.” And Dana was even more adamant when she repeated it. So adamant that Jack took another look.

  So did Dana.