Deadly Influence

by Lakes, Lynde

  Now this intriguing, gorgeous ex-cop came along and threatened those protective walls, leaving him vulnerable to his past, and maybe even risking his ironclad future plans as well. Even knowing her power to scramble his senses didn’t keep his lust at bay. He fought an urge to trail his thumb down her cheek.

  He squared his shoulders. Damn it, he’d set things right in his grandma’s house and then, as the saying goes, “get the hell out of Dodge.” He took a deep breath. He could handle this—and he would handle this—for his grandmother.

  He looked down into Lisa’s wide, green, luminous eyes, and then surprised the hell out of himself by saying the exact opposite of what he intended. “Maybe we can come up with something together.”

  “Together?” Lisa felt a tug at her emotions. Another commitment word. She found it difficult to breathe. She should refuse—the risks for her personal and emotional safety had already ratcheted up several notches just being in the same room with Jay.

  “We both want the same thing,” he said. “To keep Grandma safe. And we have at least one common enemy in Gus. You wouldn’t have told me this much if you didn’t need me.”

  She felt her resolve weakening. A risk-taking part of her brain said “go for it.” Why not? If she could keep her emotions under control, Jay could be a powerful ally. Or enemy, the more cautious part of her brain warned.

  “You told Bud you’d come here to get rid of me.”

  “That was before. Things have changed.”

  “Right,” she scoffed. “They’ve gotten worse.”

  Even though he denied it, maybe he still planned to kick her to the curb. Her brain churned, the reckless part in turmoil with the wary part. If Bud was involved in some way, whose ally would Jay be then? When brothers had to choose, even brothers who didn’t get along, blood usually prevailed. But Meta was blood, too, and from what she’d seen, Jay would be on Meta’s side, even against his own brother.

  “The important thing,” Jay said in a deep, reasonable voice, “is to figure out who is after Grandma and why. And stop them.”

  Lisa met Jay’s uncompromising gaze, letting the words hang there between them. Was this a trap? Before she could decide, her emotions jumped full bore into the mix. Jay was the kind of man she would love to have in her corner—powerful, courageous, and coolheaded. It would be so easy to trust him. And she wanted to, wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything. She studied his strong, determined face and took a deep breath. “Right,” she said in her most decisive tone. Protecting Meta was her job, and she couldn’t let muddled emotions or uncertainty get in the way.

  Several hours later, Lisa inspected the dinner table she had set with Meta’s best china and silverware. Everyone else was already seated. Candlelight flickered on the matriarch’s face as she chatted with Howard and Father Ryan. Her radiant glow and laughing eyes revealed that she was enjoying the evening. Lately, of course, whenever Howard was around, the dear lady had a special sparkle. But the love in her eyes when she looked at the grandsons she’d raised told Lisa that having them with her at the table was the icing on the cake.

  “Howard,” Lisa asked, “would you mind opening the wine?” She handed him the bottle and sat next down to Jay.

  Meta’s beau chuckled. “My pleasure. And thank you for graciously asking me to stay for dinner,” he said, deftly opening the bottle and popping the cork.

  Good old Howard, Lisa thought. At least she hoped he was as good as he seemed.

  Meta laughed. “What else could Lisa do? You hinted all over the place!” Lisa smiled. It was comforting to see Meta looking healthier and having a good time.

  “And I’m glad I did.” Howard poured burgundy all around. “The pasta’s tantalizing aroma has my mouth watering already.”

  Bud downed his wine. It was the first time he’d stayed home in weeks. Was it jealousy of his brother that kept him home tonight? Or was he up to something? She offered him some coffee, hoping he’d stay sober. He shook his head and gestured for Howard to give him a refill.

  Howard poured Bud another wine, then inspected Jay’s bandaged arm. “When we heard the gunshot, we thought it was a car backfiring.”

  Jay laughed. “No, it was just Lisa making a cannon-loud point.” It relieved Lisa to hear Jay joke about their run-in with Gus. Perhaps that meant the cut on his arm no longer hurt as much.

  “Father Ryan,” Meta said as she passed the basket of sourdough bread to him, “in the last two days, Lisa saved my life and my grandson’s life.”

  “So I heard. But what’s this about a gunshot?” He paused before rolling a forkful of spaghetti against his spoon.

  “Let’s drop the talk about guns. It makes Grandma nervous.”

  Lisa sent Jay a grateful glance. She knew guns didn’t bother Meta at all. He was just saying that to save her from the need to explain why she had a gun.

  Father Ryan smiled. “May I at least say that you’re an amazing young lady—a heroine and an excellent cook.” Lisa’s cheeks heated.

  Bud drained another glass of wine. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to be more careful around this little gun-toting gate-crasher.” Meta sent him a sharp, quelling glance.

  “Very careful,” Jay growled, “and don’t you forget it.”

  Lisa felt Bud and Jay’s bad blood animosity building again. She didn’t want their differences to ruin the evening. “Nice you could join us for dinner, Father Ryan.”

  “I wangled an invitation for a special reason.” He turned to Meta. “And after hearing about all the trouble in the neighborhood, I think you’ll be very interested.”

  “Really?” Meta’s voice rang with skepticism.

  “I want to buy your house for the new bishop diocese.” Father Ryan smiled, showing even white teeth. “Your home is located near the church, and its quiet elegance and enormous size make it perfect.”

  Bud laughed. The sound was bitter.

  Father Ryan furrowed his brow. “What’s the joke, Bud?”

  “Just wondering how Grandma will say no to the church.”

  “Bud has always lacked diplomacy,” Meta said. “Yet he’s right, it’s difficult to say no to the church. But that’s exactly what I must do.”

  “Please, don’t be hasty. Meet with the church council and me first. Give us a chance to explain our desperate need.”

  Meta met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “My grandfather built this house. He intended it to stay in the family. No other place could be home to me. So I’m afraid my answer is quite final.” Silence hung in air thickened with tension for several seconds.

  Bud cleared his throat. “How much money is the church offering?” he asked. “Grandma has already turned down a million bucks.”

  Father Ryan didn’t as much as blink. “It would be difficult to match that amount, but with God’s help, nothing is impossible.”

  Meta inhaled deeply and stiffened her posture.

  Howard touched her hand. “If you decide to sell, it would be better for the neighborhood if you sell to Cornel Drake anyway. He’s offering generous prices for all of our homes.” Howard faced Father Ryan. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in everyone’s properties, Father?”

  Father Ryan shifted in his chair. His face sobered.

  Jay exchanged glances with Lisa. “I think Grandmother has made her decision, so let’s change the subject and just enjoy this delicious dinner.”

  “Of course,” Father Ryan said. “But just think about it, Meta. That’s all I ask.”

  “I’m sure I’ll think of little else.” Meta’s troubled words cast an eerie silence into the room. Her hand trembled when she picked up the small cup of minced garlic that Lisa had prepared just for her, and sprinkled it over the top of her spaghetti.

  Lisa watched the fine chips flutter and then bury themselves in the blood-red sauce.

  “Meta, my dear,” Howard boomed, his voice drawing everyone’s attention to him, “I know how to take your mind off everything
but checkers. After dinner, I’ll show you a new, unbeatable strategy.” He flashed a grin. “I feel lucky.”

  Meta laughed. “We can change that!” She ate a few bites of pasta. “Lisa, honey, this is the best sauce I’ve ever tasted. And the fresh garlic gives it that extra zing.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy cooking,” Lisa said as she passed the salad bowl to Jay. Their fingers brushed, and a static charge shot through her. Their eyes met, and his sparked as if he was equally stunned.

  For a moment, he was silent. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Now I’m glad you insisted upon cooking and turned down my offer to pick up dinner at Luigi’s.”

  Lisa busied herself rearranging the pasta on her plate, uncertain why she suddenly felt defensive. “With the cook returning in the morning, this was my last chance to fix one of Meta’s favorite meals.”

  “I’m so happy we’re all together like this,” Meta said. “I feel like I—” Meta’s face flushed. Her pupils dilated.

  Jay shot to his feet. “Grandma! What is it?”

  “Help me!” Meta grabbed the tablecloth as she collapsed. China and glass clattered to the floor, food and wine splattering everywhere. Lisa raced to Meta’s side and checked her heart rate. “I can’t feel a heartbeat. Call 911!”

  In the hospital waiting room, Lisa heard Jay call Tom. A short time later, Tom, his wife, and Jay’s other two cousins, Bruce and Chet, arrived. Lisa had met them at the hospital after Meta’s stroke. Howard moved to a chair, leaving the couch free for the relatives. Lisa noticed how much Tom resembled Bud in facial features, coloring, and weight. In spite of Tom’s belly hanging over his belt, from a distance and wearing loose clothing, the cousins could be mistaken for one another.

  “Another stroke?” Tom asked.

  Jay shook his head. “We’re waiting for the doctor.”

  Tom nodded toward Lisa. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Sit down, Tom, and shut up,” Bud snapped.

  An angry flush crept up from Tom’s collar, but he sat down. Warily glancing at Bud, Tom’s wife and the other cousins joined Tom on the couch and formed a stony cluster. Jay stood and began pacing.

  “Do you have to do that?” Bud growled. Jay glanced at him sharply, without missing a step. “I can’t take this waiting,” Bud said. “I’m going for coffee.”

  Lisa gripped the windowsill and stared out into the black, starless sky, praying harder than she had ever prayed before. She should have insisted that Meta stay in bed longer, and she shouldn’t have served her spicy food. But Meta wanted it, saying she had her mouth all set for spaghetti and a side dish of minced garlic.

  Lisa turned at the sound of footsteps. The muscles tightened between her shoulder blades. Dr. Hendricks looked tired as he approached Jay. “I pumped your grandmother’s stomach and gave her guanidine to control the cardiac rhythm.”

  Jay’s face darkened. “Pumped her stomach? My God, why?”

  “She was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned!” Jay’s jaw dropped, and he grabbed the back of a chair.

  “Convallaria majalis,” the doctor said.

  Jay raked his hair. “Would you give me that in layman’s terms?”

  “Lily of the valley, often mistaken for wild garlic.”

  “No!” Lisa said. “It can’t be!” She tried to massage away the sudden pounding pressure in her temples.

  Jay glanced at her sharply and then addressed the doctor. “Is Grandma going to be okay?”

  “If she can get through the night without heart failure or coma, she has a good chance. We have her on a monitor. The rest is up to God.” He touched Jay’s shoulder, exchanged a sympathetic look with Lisa, and then left the room.

  “Lisa did it!” Tom shouted as he yanked his cell phone from his belt. “I’m calling the police.”

  Jay grabbed his arm. “Don’t!” His tone was deadly. “Grandma wouldn’t want that.”

  “That was before!” Tom brought his arm back as though he might hit Jay. Jay didn’t flinch. His only sign of emotion was the twitch at the corner of his eye. Tom shook Jay’s hand off his arm. “Grandma didn’t expect the woman she’d befriended to poison her.”

  “I didn’t!” Lisa said. “I love her, for God’s sake!” Damn them, they were talking about her as though she wasn’t there. She understood Tom’s accusation. From his perspective she was a prime suspect. But Jay was right. Meta wouldn’t want this.

  Jay turned and nailed her with a probing gaze. “Tell us how it happened, Lisa.”

  My God, he believes I did it. Her throat constricted. “I don’t know,” she said huskily. Fighting tears, Lisa twisted the tissue in her hands. She needed time alone to sort things out. A chill of awareness washed over her—the bastard who did this would try again.

  Jay watched Lisa turn and flee from the room. He fought his urge to go after her.

  “What did you expect her to say?” Tom jeered. “I want that bitch out of Grandma’s house tonight!”

  Jay bristled at his words, but he forced himself to remain calm. “You’re not running things, Tom.”

  “She’s bewitched you,” Tom accused. “Now get out of my way!”

  Jay clenched his jaw. “You don’t know zip about all this!” Part of his cousin’s ignorance wasn’t Tom’s fault. Grandma had insisted the fact that Lisa was her bodyguard remain a secret. “We have to stick together, Tom, for Grandma’s sake.”

  “You don’t believe the woman did it, do you?” Tom asked.

  Jay didn’t know what he believed. “Just wait,” he said tiredly. “Let’s see what Grandma has to say.”

  “Wait? No way!” Tom shouted. “What if Grandma dies?”

  Lisa called Morris Security and arranged around-the-clock security for outside Meta’s hospital room door. She had planned to stay at Meta’s bedside. Then the police arrived and insisted that everyone present at the dinner party return to the house with them.

  The officers searched the place and asked questions. After she flashed her credentials, the head detective singled her out and took her to the kitchen for additional questioning. She had no idea where they took Jay and the others to grill them. When the detective was satisfied with her answers, he said, “We’re taking all the food away for analysis.” Then he hung back after the others left and added, “Don’t leave town, Miss Dixon.”

  Lisa sighed in relief as she closed the door behind him. In spite of her credentials, after Tom’s accusations, she had fully expected the cops to haul her off to jail. Drained, she put on the kettle for tea. How did someone slip the lily of the valley bulb into the house? It had to be a person close to Meta, someone who knew her habit of sprinkling minced garlic over the spaghetti.

  Damn it, she had been set up as a weapon to kill Meta. Now she was alone in this big old house with Meta’s two strong, perhaps dangerous, grandsons. The hostility between the brothers could have been an act to throw her off guard. Either one of them could have replaced the garlic with the poisonous bulb.

  “Where do you think the poisonous bulb came from?” Jay’s steps had been silent.

  She whirled around. He looked fierce and ready to rake her over the coals. Her heart thudded in erratic beats. “I’ve already gone over that with the police.”

  “Now you can go over it with me.”

  “Forget it.” She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her.

  “Afraid of incriminating yourself?” He studied her, his look scrutinizing.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s talk about it. You knew Meta enjoyed minced garlic with her spaghetti. Maybe you made the switch.”

  “Don’t turn this around. Just level with me!”

  Lisa’s exhaustion became unbearable. She didn’t have the strength to fight him—not tonight. She turned off the flame under the kettle. “Goodnight, Jay. It’s been a hellish day, and I’m going to bed.”

  “Go then. But we’re going to talk in the morning, so you’d better dream up a good answer.”

  Lisa ran from the room
… and him. As she hurried up the stairs, her heart felt heavy. If only there was a way to be certain whether he had anything to do with the poisoning.

  Meta was barely over her stroke, and now this. But she should be safe for the next few days with a guard at her door. She had looked so pale and vulnerable when Lisa had peeked in on her. And all those tubes… A tear left a warm path as it rolled down her cheek. Please Lord, help me keep Meta safe.

  Chapter Seven

  Lisa tried to sleep, but the mystery of the poison garlic swam in her head. She had placed the diced segments in a covered container in the refrigerator while she showered and dressed. That must have been when the wannabe killer switched them. She had secured the doors before going upstairs. If it was an inside job, the person placing the poison could be Jay, Bud, Howard, or Father Ryan. She shuddered. Dear God, it could actually be someone Meta invited into her home and heart.

  Replaying every word said during dinner, visualizing every expression, every glance that could point to the guilty party, resulted in a stymied mind and an uncomfortable tangle of sheets. Lisa threw her legs over the side of the bed. Hot chocolate! That’s what she needed. It was a great sleep-inducer and always made her think better. She shrugged into the hip-length aqua silk robe and slid her loaded gun into the pocket.

  Not wanting to awaken Bud or Jay, Lisa used her flashlight to make her way down the darkened stairs. The wood on the bottom step creaked. Passing the den doorway, she heard a muffled footstep and smelled the sweet odor of burning cedar. She flashed a wide arc of light into the dark room. Nothing moved.

  She stepped into the doorway and heard a clink of glass. She reached for her gun. Strong arms clamped around her from the rear and pinned her limbs to her sides. She struggled as her attacker hauled her all the way into the den. The only light came from the glow of burning embers in the fireplace and her flashlight, now aimed uselessly at the floor. She felt his heat searing down her back and into her hips as she continued to struggle.