“If she wasn’t going to leave her son an inheritance, why didn’t your aunt leave the property to your father?”
How did the cop know her father was still alive? He’d obviously already done a background check on Laurel and knew all the answers before he asked the questions. Grayson was using a typical cop questionnaire. He must have gotten his technique from Interrogations For Dummies or something.
“I didn’t understand that either. Mr. Franklin wouldn’t answer my questions. He said there were still things he had to keep in confidence according to Celeste’s wishes. I still don’t know why she left it all to me.”
Her clipped tone warned of the volcano rumbling beneath the surface of her words. She appeared to be beyond weary of the cop’s questions, and exhausted people said and did foolish things. He hoped she didn’t say too much. So far, she’d kept her answers short and on point. Laurel was obviously used to dealing with cops.
Her anger seemed to dissipate suddenly. “It’s been kind of weird moving in here, not ever having met her or even knowing she existed. I mean, I thought I could do it. I thought I could turn this place into a bed and breakfast.” She paused and sucked in a ragged breath. “I thought I could leave my past behind me and start over, but you can’t outrun your life, can you? I should have never come here.”
She rose from her chair and steadied a hard gaze on Grayson. “I’m tired and I don’t want to answer any more questions about my aunt or why I moved here. The man who died may be my cousin, but I had nothing to do with his death. There’s nothing I can tell you that’s going to help you find out who killed him.”
Grayson flipped his little cop notebook shut, pushed his chair back, and took his time getting up from the table. “All right, but if you don’t talk to me now, I’ll be back. And if I come back, the next set of questions might be even harder to answer.”
Laurel blinked at him and then pushed open the kitchen door, motioning him toward the front room. “I hope you find the person who killed my cousin.”
“Oh, I will. You can count on it.”
The glint in the cop’s eyes made Chase believe Grayson thought he already had.
Chapter Eight
As soon as the front door swung shut behind Grayson, Chase turned to Laurel. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but her reaction to such a move might be extreme. She would either fall into his embrace or punch him in the nose.
He held her gaze even though looking directly at her made him want to squirm right out of his skin. The inevitable discussion of what had happened on the stairs and a dissection of the weird paranormal activity that was going on in the house had to start somehow. He didn’t think Laurel would instigate the conversation. So he chose a topic that he hoped would get them talking while delaying the necessary discussion a little longer. “Why’d you pick that color?”
Her back was rigid as she continued to stare at the closed front door. “Huh?” She turned toward him and blinked in confusion.
“The wall color in the living room. It’s an odd shade.”
She shot him a questioning glance as if she knew he was stalling. “I like that color.”
“I thought these places were supposed to exude country charm.” He added just a bit of a tease to his comment.
“My house exudes country charm.”
He laughed. “What is that color anyway?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Persimmon.”
“Oh. I thought these country retreats were supposed to be done in blue and white.” He added a dose of mild sarcasm to the word retreats.
“Country blue and cream. And I wanted to be different from everyone else.”
He crossed his arms over his chest to keep from pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay, country blue and cream.”
He suppressed his amusement. She was dead serious about her color choice. Didn’t even crack a smile.
Laurel wasn’t in a playful mood, and he couldn’t blame her. The triple trauma of the incident on the stairs, being alone for over an hour, and enduring Grayson’s visit back to back to back was enough stress for one day. The woman could get nearly hysterical and then pull herself back together and act almost normal. She was made of stronger stuff than he had originally given her credit for.
She sniffed. “What would you know about it anyway? You’re just a man.”
“I know more than you think.” He unfolded his arms and propped his hands on his hips. Would she catch his double meaning?
“You just stick to that carpenter stuff you do. I’ll handle the interior decorating.”
“Not a problem.” He agreed with her demand willingly.
She crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa. “I’m exhausted.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
“I should go to bed...”
He waited for her to complete her thought. A very definite but dangled on the end of her unfinished sentence. He sat next to her. Could he get by with holding her hand or putting an arm around her?
She turned sad eyes toward him. “I was telling the cop the truth. I didn’t know I had a cousin.”
“I know.”
She shuddered. “He told me some woman ran over a dead man in the middle of the highway. He keeps hinting it was murder.”
Chase had observed that Grayson was good at saying just enough. “He hasn’t told you everything.”
She smiled. “Cops never do.”
He smiled back. He knew all about cops. “No, they don’t.”
She pushed against the rolled seam on the sofa cushion between them. “Do you think someone is playing mind games with me? Is that what’s going on?”
He scratched the itch behind his ear. She had approached the discussion in a sideways sort of way.
“I don’t know.” He paused, arranging and rearranging the text of what he planned to say next. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
She turned to gaze into his eyes. “Neither do I.” Her pause was significant. What she was about to say was undoubtedly important. “But I do believe someone wants me to think I’m losing my mind.”
He couldn’t resist the urge any longer and reached across the space between them to grab her hand. “Some really strange things have happened in the house since you moved here. Things that might seem paranormal. Am I right?”
“Well, yeah. You felt someone push you down the stairs. That is strange since no one was there.”
“I can’t explain that.” And he really couldn’t. Maybe the shove was his imagination. Maybe he had a muscle spasm.
“That’s not the first weird thing that’s happened.” She sat still, an expectant look on her face as if she wanted him to ask the right question.
“Like what?”
She seemed relieved that he had pushed her to explain. “Last night, I was going to read until I couldn’t stay awake any longer, but I fell asleep in the rocking chair. A loud noise woke me up. So I grabbed the baseball bat—”
He laughed. “You do seem to love that bat.”
“Will you let me finish my story?” She wasn’t amused.
He squeezed her hand in reply.
“So I grabbed the bat, thinking I would confront whoever was in my house.” Her hand tightened around his.
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Her eyes were beautiful with a hint of strong emotion in them.
“Before I got halfway across my room... I don’t know how to explain how I felt. It was like someone was pressing on my chest, and I couldn’t move very fast, like my legs were heavy weights. Like I was moving through something thick.” She closed her eyes. “I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe.” She was describing a panic attack.
“I can see how that would frighten you.”
Her weak smile tore at his heart. Suddenly, it was more important to protect her from whatever was going on in her house than to find Rand’s missing bank codes.
Rand would be incarcerated for a very long time...if he wasn’t murdered in
his cell. He’d already spent some time in solitary confinement. Chase’s brother was the kind of man who instigated trouble. He would always be at the center of whatever drama was happening. No one was safe around him. Chase deeply regretted his unholy deal with his half-brother.
Laurel sucked in a breath and drew his attention back to her story. “Whatever had a hold on me released me suddenly and I almost fell. I made it to the doorway and was going to go into the hall when a cold wave passed right through me. Not around me or over me, but straight through me. It was the oddest sensation I’ve ever felt in my life.”
“No wonder you looked like you were panicked when I got here this morning.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, hoping the small gesture would ease the tension a little. How much more could the woman take before she snapped? She could alternately be strong as steel or brittle as a dry twig, but even steel has a pressure point.
“I spent most of the night in my car. When the sun came up, I came back into the house and stayed in the kitchen until you got here. I don’t think I slept much. I haven’t slept much since that man died.” She snorted. “That man? The cousin I never knew I had.”
Chase scooted closer to her. “Maybe you’ll get some sleep tonight.”
“Maybe.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes with her free hand but didn’t break her stare. “I’m scared...”
He gulped down a wad of anxiety. The obvious next question was so natural, but he was afraid of where it would lead.
He asked anyway. “Who are you scared of?”
Would she tell him the truth? They’d both proven they were pretty good liars. Maybe Grayson had believed them. Maybe he hadn’t.
She pulled her hand away, and then glanced around the room as if searching for an escape route. “I... My... I...” She straightened her shoulders as if preparing to confront the raw truth, as if she wasn’t going to allow her past to scare her any longer. “I think my ex-boyfriend may have sent someone here to harass me. He said he’d find me no matter where I went. He hates me. And you know what? I hate him. I hate what he’s done to me. I hate that he probably isn’t through making my life hell. I tried to get away from him, but he obviously had someone follow me here. He couldn’t do his own dirty work. He’s in prison...”
She stopped talking for a long while, staring across the room. He gave her time to pull her emotions together and sort out her thoughts. She had to be trying to decide what she could tell him and what she couldn’t. Hers was a very long story.
“I can’t get his threats out of my head. I think he’s playing some sort of sick game with me, punishing me for betraying him, trying to break my mind. He’s tried that before...”
She seemed to drift into her thoughts again, into a place she wasn’t yet ready for him to follow. Pain dimmed the usual sparkle in her eyes. Rand had dragged the woman through hell and back. Chase hated his brother on her behalf.
He couldn’t stand to watch her distress. If he kept the truth from her any longer, it would only add to her pain later. He had to do something to minimize the damage. He had no other choice. It was time to tell her why he had come to Arkansas.
Chase was the man Rand had sent to break her, only he had known before he left California that he wouldn’t. In a way, he had agreed to Rand’s demand because another man would have probably attempted to beat the truth out of her, and Chase had to stop that from happening if he could. Finding the travel drive would have settled the debt he owed Rand, and Laurel would have been spared further abuse. If he had found it, she would have never had a clue what Rand had asked of him. Too bad it hadn’t worked out that way.
“Before you say anything else... I need to tell you the truth.”
She backed away from him, her eyes widening with fear. A trembling hand pressed against her chest. “What truth?”
He wet his dry lips. The words he needed to say wouldn’t move past the cotton in his mouth.
Her eyes blazed with sudden understanding. “It’s not a coincidence that you came here looking for work is it?”
She was so perceptive, and the disappointment that erupted across her features made him sick to his stomach. He would have given anything to be an itinerant carpenter looking for work instead of the jackass that agreed to do Rand’s dirty work.
He stared at her with an open expression, begging for understanding. “Before I tell you what I have to tell you, please promise you’ll hear me out. Wait until I’m done before you make up your mind about me.”
She jumped to her feet. Panic distorted her features. “Chase, you’re scaring me.”
“Laurel—”
“Rand sent you here, didn’t he?” She backed up a few steps.
“Laurel—”
“Tell me the truth. Did Rand send you?”
He couldn’t say the words that would condemn him. She must have seen the truth on his face, in his eyes, because she turned on her heel and ran for the stairs. He caught up with her before she had climbed halfway and wrapped his fingers around her elbow. The abrupt contact halted her, and she lost her balance. She broke loose from his grip, and her hands braced her fall on the stairs above her.
“Please, Laurel, listen to me. There’s more to this than you think—”
“What more is there? Does he still think I have his stupid codes?” She pushed up to stand and twisted to face him. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about. When I left him, I didn’t take anything that was his except the bruises on my face and a cracked rib that hadn’t quite healed yet from the first time he tried to kill me.”
“I know that.” His raised voice rattled the chandelier over the front room.
She cringed at his harsh tone.
Stress made him sound angry. He forced himself to speak slower, softer. “I know.”
She turned away from him and rushed up a few more steps, but once again he grabbed her elbow and stopped her. “Laurel, I know you didn’t take the codes.”
She stalled on the top step. Her back stiff. Staring straight ahead. “Then... Why are you still here?”
He hated the terror in her voice, terror that his presence had caused.
“He sent me here to get the codes back, and he didn’t care what I had to do to get them.” He climbed another step toward her. “But I care. He might be that kind of guy, but I’m not. I’m not going to beat you up. I had already made up my mind I wouldn’t before I got here. If I couldn’t find them, I was going to leave—”
“You can leave then—”
“I can’t. Not now.”
“If Rand sent you, then I don’t want you here.”
Tension wound his nerves into cords of electric anxiety. Leaving could prove deadly for both of them. No, he couldn’t leave. He had to stay here. He hadn’t come to Arkansas to protect her, but protect her he would...with his life.
“When I tell him I can’t find them, he’ll send someone else—someone who won’t be as reluctant to hurt you as I’ve been—if he hasn’t sent somebody out here already.”
She wiped her eyes and gulped back a sob. “I thought you cared about me—”
“I do. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” His frustration erupted.
Once again she flinched.
He had never told her that he cared about her. But he did. She had gotten to him. Gotten under his skin.
He forced himself to calm a little before he spoke again. “I’m not going to leave you here to face this alone because I do care—”
“How could I have been so wrong about you? I thought we... I thought you were going to kiss me—”
He pulled her into his arms and captured her mouth with his. A hard kiss that refused to deny the longing that swelled every time he thought about being with her. At first she leaned away from him, but he held her tighter. She bent backward, but he molded his body to hers until he was afraid they’d topple over and slide down the stairs again.
He could sense her resistance fading. Her mouth softened. W
hen her lips finally surrendered, and she returned his desire kiss for kiss, his knees nearly buckled. She stopped resisting his embrace, clinging to him as if her life depended on being wrapped in his arms.
He leaned his head back, and she leaned forward as if she wanted more. A sweet reaction he didn’t want to forget as long as he lived. With his hands on either side of her face, he rubbed her tears away with his thumbs.
“Please don’t cry.”
“Am I crying?” She sniffed back her tears.
“I don’t blame you if you’re angry, but please don’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.” His whispered words brushed her lips. “I promise. I’m done with Rand. I don’t owe him anything anymore.”
“Why should I believe you?”
His mouth found hers again. This time his kisses lingered, traveling from her mouth to her cheek, nibbling at her ear, then down her neck to her collarbone. His fingers wound through her hair, and she grabbed the back of his t-shirt. A soft moan escaped her, and he thought he might explode with the longing that was approaching a crescendo inside him.
He had to get off the stairs. The odd angles were killing his calves. He lifted her off her feet and carried her up the remaining steps, down the hall, and into her room. Her arms tightened around his neck when he laid her on the bed as if she didn’t want him to let her go.
His breath caught in his throat. Desire had almost mastered decency. He could have had her if he wanted her, but he didn’t want her that way. Scared and exhausted and vulnerable. He wanted no regrets. Not with Laurel.
He untangled her fingers from behind his neck and stepped back from her. His heavy breathing sounded loud in his ears.
“If there’s no chance you’ll ever believe me, then I’ll leave. But... Do you want to believe me?”
“More than anything.” Her soft voice caressed his heart.
“What do you want? How can I prove I mean you no harm?”
“Stay with me.” She scooted over to make room for him. “Just stay with me. Don’t try to... Don’t leave me alone tonight. Be here so I don’t have to face it—whatever it is—alone.”
Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1) Page 8