If You Only Knew

by Dixie Lee Brown

  Dread and worry closed around him like a shroud.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  * * *

  “HAVE A SEAT.” Andre pointed toward the two worn, black leather armchairs. “We are going to start over. I can see now I made a mistake thinking I could gain your cooperation by force. I should have told you the truth that night in your apartment. It might be too late, but I would still like to try. After you hear my story, you can decide for yourself whether my cause is just.”

  Rayna’s legs shook uncontrollably as she started to walk, and she dropped into the closest chair, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from her upper lip. For a moment, she hung her head, only able to breathe and try to loosen the band of fear that was cinched tightly around her chest.

  He wanted her to listen to him? Did he really think she would buy anything he said? This should be good. She heaved a couple more breaths and then raised her head to look at him.

  He grabbed a bottle of water from a small refrigerator behind the desk and placed it in her hand before he took a seat in the other chair. She stared at it. Did he think she was stupid enough to open it? She didn’t need to be reminded of the drugged condition he’d kept her in the first time he’d held her hostage.

  “It is only water, Rayna. You have my word.”

  She exhaled a silent laugh and continued to watch him until he snatched the water from her hand, opened it, and took a long drink. When he handed it back, she hesitated only a second before she choked down a few swallows, slaking her thirst and easing the rawness in her throat. If only she could have kept her hand from shaking. He watched her every move, no doubt cataloging her weaknesses to use against her later. What was he up to, anyway? Just because the bottled water wasn’t drugged didn’t mean she could trust the Russian creep. She set the water down on the coffee table and waited.

  “Almost everything you have heard about me is true. Drugs, murder, slave trade. I have made a name for myself in this country the old-fashioned way—by taking what I wanted and burying the competition that did not step aside. I am not a nice person, and I do not apologize for that.” His gaze drilled into her.

  “You won’t get any argument from me.” She swiped her hair away from her face.

  Andre chuckled and shook his head. “I like you, Rayna. I think if we had met under different circumstances, we would have been . . . friends.”

  “Not even in a Russian fairy tale. We were destined to be enemies. You’re the kind of man who uses people, just like you used me to get to Ty. Your plan almost worked, too, but you underestimated me.” She took another swallow.

  Anger settled in his eyes. He leaned forward in the chair. “That seems to be a common problem with me and my Russian brothers. We tend to underestimate women. My friends, Mikhail and Boris, paid dearly for their mistakes.”

  Rayna bit down on her bottom lip. Was he angry enough about his friends’ failure to change his mind about killing her? She had to keep him talking.

  “You said almost everything I’ve heard about you is true. Is there an ugly rumor circulating that I shouldn’t believe?” She leaned back and struggled to keep her arms and legs from trembling with the adrenaline that coursed through her.

  He rose and stepped to a counter that held glasses, an ice bucket, and decanters of what she assumed to be liquor. “Vodka?”

  “Thanks, but I’m more of a bourbon kind of gal.”

  He laughed again and chose a different decanter. He handed her a glass with a small amount of amber-colored liquid and reclaimed his chair, clutching a tumbler half-full of vodka. “How well do you know Sean Phillips?”

  “Hardly at all. I met him yesterday morning right before Ty kicked him off the property. He snuck back in and abducted me last night.” It rankled her to admit that Sean had gotten the best of her.

  Andre pursed his lips. “Makes you wonder what Bree sees in him, does it not?”

  Yes, it did, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Not any more than I wonder why you would threaten a little girl like Madison to get even with her mother.”

  He froze, the drink halfway to his lips. “What did you say?” He pushed to his feet and set his glass on the coffee table. “Who told you that?”

  She tensed as Andre approached. Had she finally pushed him too far? Anger flashed in his dark eyes, but instead of hitting her as she expected, he seated himself on the table in front of her and gripped her arms. “Is that what Bree thinks . . . that I would hurt Madison?”

  “Wait a minute. We are talking about Bree Knight. Right? The same woman who tried to kill you six years ago? Why do you care what she thinks?” This was about the oddest conversation Rayna had ever had, and she was having a hard time keeping up.

  He released her, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead against his fingertips. “I would never hurt Bree . . . or my daughter, and I would never try to take her from her mother.”

  “Your daughter?” As the significance of that revelation bounced around in Rayna’s brain, she recalled the dark-haired, curly-top little girl with her cheery smile and the intelligent sparkle in her brown eyes. Surprising as his declaration was, the last piece of the puzzle snapped into place immediately. The little girl was his spitting image.

  Andre stood and retrieved his drink. He threw it back, strode to the bar for a refill, and started talking while his back was turned. “I met Bree eight years ago when she thought she would infiltrate my organization and shut me down. I knew she was FBI from the beginning, but I allowed her inside anyway, because I was intrigued with her. A strange thing happens when two people work closely together. I’m sure you know this is true.” He turned long enough to raise his glass to her, a mocking tribute.

  Rayna scowled and remained silent, but she couldn’t help remembering how quickly and deeply she’d fallen in love with Ty. The hours and days they’d spent sparring, shooting, preparing her for the moment she’d come face-to-face with Charlie’s murderer had saved her life and given her something far better to hope for.

  “Nobody could ever know that we loved each other. Bree was married, and she loved her husband also, in some ways.” He swung around and met Rayna’s gaze. “When the FBI sprang their trap, Bree cuffed me and read me my rights . . . like I meant nothing to her, but when the evidence they had acquired against me disappeared, I knew it was not by chance. Bree had done what she could to destroy the evidence—to help me without jeopardizing her career or her marriage. It was enough for me to know that, and I would have done my time without complaint.” Andre swirled the alcohol inside his glass. “She never told me she was pregnant, and it would not have mattered.”

  “What changed? Why did you decide to kill Bree’s husband?”

  The silence that descended on the room was deafening as anger swept over Andre’s features. After a few seconds, he seemed to relax. “Chris Knight’s death shattered Bree’s safe little world. I would never have done that to her.” He searched Rayna’s face as though trying to read her thoughts. “You do not believe me.”

  Rayna wasn’t sure what to believe, but there was no arguing the fact this man was stripping his soul naked before her. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his confession, and his eyes were empty and haunted. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him. He deserved everything he got. Still, she couldn’t help wondering.

  “If you didn’t kill him, who did?”

  He studied her for several seconds, his expression alternating between anger and distrust. Dropping into his chair again, he blew out a long breath. “I have been trying to tell Bree for years who killed her husband. Unfortunately, I have made some mistakes along the way—done things she will never forgive me for.”

  “Why didn’t you call her and tell her, rather than trying to kidnap her baby?”

  “I see your friend Ty told you of our endeavor. Not my best plan, I admit, but I knew she would come if I held that card. But when I saw Madison, I knew she was my child. Chris Knight was fair-haired. Madison looks exac
tly like me. Regrettably, I managed to make certain Bree would never speak to me again. The next time I saw her, she tried to kill me.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his forehead as though to squelch a headache.

  “You still haven’t told me who killed her husband.” Rayna was shocked at the compassion in her voice.

  He apparently was too. His eyes flew open, and his lips quirked into a scornful grin. “Sean Phillips.”

  “What? You can’t be serious?” No. It wasn’t possible. Sean couldn’t have murdered her husband, then had the audacity to marry her. The thought of him pretending to be a father to that beautiful little girl made her sick . . . and angry. What Andre had done to try to get close to Bree paled in comparison.

  Apparently, her revulsion was clear, because when she glanced at him, a bemused expression greeted her, and a hint of triumph flashed in his eyes. “You believe me?”

  She raised an eyebrow and considered his question. She had no reason to trust this man. In fact, she had every reason not to . . . but the fact of the matter was, she did believe he was innocent of Chris Knight’s murder. Whether Sean was the guilty party was the real question.

  “How do you know it was Sean?”

  “I have ways of getting answers that polite society frowns on. Leave it at that, Rayna.” His cold eyes made her shiver.

  “So, you don’t have any evidence that will hold up in a court of law.” Another thought made her skin prickle. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  He appeared to give her question the consideration it was due. “I should. A few years ago, nothing would have made me happier, but frankly, now I do not care if he lives or dies. What I want is for Bree to see him for who he really is. If she wants to do the honors, I will not get in her way.” He leaned forward in his chair and appraised her. “Would you have killed the man responsible for your brother’s death?”

  Her breath caught painfully in her chest, and she looked away, anger blinding her with instant tears that she didn’t want him to see. Blinking until her vision cleared, she forced herself to look at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Simple. I need you to tell Ty and your friends where to find you.”

  “That’s all?” She was dying to do that. What wasn’t he telling her?

  “Naturally, I am hoping Bree will accompany him and that I will get a chance to have a conversation with her before she or Ty puts a bullet in me.” He shrugged.

  “I don’t believe you. You’re not going to put yourself in danger for a chat with a woman who tried to kill you the last time you saw her. You want something.” Rayna ran one finger over the rim of the glass still holding the bourbon he’d poured and tried to read his expression.

  “Do I?” A crooked grin appeared.

  “Don’t be a smartass, Andre. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Okay. Here is the honest-to-God truth. I want five minutes alone with Bree. That’s all. I will not try to find Madison. I only want to know they are both safe and happy. If what I have to tell Bree sets her free from that devil she married, then I will be satisfied.”

  Rayna studied him skeptically, but there was no subterfuge in his eyes. He seemed resigned. With one phone call, she could let Ty know where to find her. He’d come and rescue her again. Where was the downside to this deal?

  Andre could be lying. What if his real agenda was getting revenge on everyone who’d participated in the incident that almost took his life six years ago?

  “One more thing—if something goes wrong and I do not survive, I want your word you will finish it . . . you will tell Bree the truth.” He studied her over the rim of his glass as he brought it to his lips.

  “Why would she believe me?”

  “She is smart. All either of us has to do is plant the seed. She will do the rest.”

  Rayna frowned. If Sean was guilty, and her instinct told her he was, someone definitely should convey that message to Bree. Rayna wasn’t sure she was the right person for the job, however. Andre had convinced her he was telling the truth. Was she convinced enough to stand in his place if he wasn’t able to and condemn another human being? He was a self-confessed murderer and, apparently, proud of it. She was crazy to even consider aligning herself with a man like him. What would that make her?

  On the other hand, if Sean murdered Bree’s husband, the travesty would be to allow her to go on blindly living with him.

  She drew a deep breath and let it out. “I want to talk to Sean.”

  Andre leaned back and crossed his legs. Scorn twisted his lips. “Do you think you will get him to confess?”

  “Of course not, but he deserves a chance to prove he’s not the lowest scum on earth.” She met his gaze unflinchingly.

  “Considering your circumstances when my men found you, I would think you already had your proof.” He laced his fingers together, his elbows propped on the arms of the chair.

  She hesitated, the memory making her tremble. “Same could be said about you.”

  To her relief, he chuckled. “Touché. All right, but I will accompany you.”

  “He won’t talk to me if you’re there, and if you coerce a confession from him, it won’t mean anything.”

  “I am merely thinking about your safety. As I said, I need your help. You are not helpful to me dead.”

  His words chilled her, but she forced a smile. “In a fair fight, I can take care of myself.”

  He tipped his head slightly. “Then you will have your audience if it will help you decide on the proper course of action.”

  Something in his voice sent a tingle down her arms. “And what if I decide not to help you?”

  All traces of amusement left his face. His fingers tapped together rhythmically. “I am a patient man, Rayna. I have no doubt you will eventually see my plan has merit. I have waited six years. What’s another few months . . . or years for that matter.” He sat forward. “Here’s a question for you. Will Ty still look for you in a year . . . two . . . six?”

  Her mouth dropped open. The bastard was threatening to hold her hostage until she gave him what he wanted. Dread tightened its knot around her midsection. Damn him. It didn’t matter if she believed his story or not. He was ruthless—to be trusted no more than Sean. She could either help him draw Ty and Bree here for his version of the OK Corral, or he’d keep her closeted away until Ty forgot her.

  She almost asked if he planned to let her go at all, but the words choked her into silence. It was foolish to ask for a guarantee from someone who couldn’t be trusted. She pushed to her feet and stared at him.

  “He would never stop looking. You almost had me. Sucked me right into your little melodrama, even after abducting me—twice—and drugging me. I must be unimaginably stupid. Luckily, your threat snapped me out of my trance. Reminded me what kind of a man you are. Honestly, the whole I’m not a nice person thing doesn’t do you justice. You’re a lowlife snake.” She paused as anger flashed in his eyes.

  “Are you done?” His voice was cold again.

  “Almost. In spite of my disgust for you, I’ll make that call, but not because I believe you. I don’t give a rip about you or Sean Phillips, and you’ll have to get Bree to believe your story on your own. From now on I’m watching out for myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  * * *

  WHY THE HELL couldn’t they catch a break? The sun was setting on a long-ass day, and they were no closer to finding Rayna than they had been that morning. Ty stepped out on the deck again, crossed to the dog, and patted his head before plopping into the porch swing. Ribs whined and laid his head on Ty’s leg, trying to communicate some unknown thought with his brown eyes.

  “I know, boy. I miss her too.” Ty scratched the dog’s ears until Ribs turned toward the sound of someone climbing the deck stairs.

  Nate stepped into view. “The police found Sean’s car.”

  Ty jumped to his feet. “Where?”

  Nate strode toward him. “Abandoned on a forest s
ervice road near Mount Hood. The passenger side panel was smashed in, but it’s still drivable. Looks like someone dumped it.”

  Ty waited for the rest of the information, but apparently Nate was going to make him ask. “Any blood?”

  “No. No sign of a struggle, either. You know Rayna wouldn’t have gone quietly if there was anything to be gained by fighting.” Nate bent to pat the dog.

  For a stray that no one wanted around yesterday, Ribs had done all right for himself. Not one person had passed him by today, while Ty was present, who didn’t first stop and pat his head or rub his belly. Trust Rayna to see the good in him, rather than judging him by appearances.

  Goddammit. He needed her to be all right. This waiting and not knowing was driving him crazy. “I have to get out there and start looking. I can’t take this.” He walked a few feet, then stopped and paced the other direction.

  “It won’t be long now, buddy. They’re going to ask for the public’s help. Someone will remember seeing the accident. We’ll find her.” Nate straightened, and empathy stole into his expression.

  Ty turned away. Sympathy in his friend’s eyes was only going to make him lose it quicker. He took two deep breaths, collected himself as best he could, and turned back. “I hope you’re right.”

  Ribs gave a barely audible woof seconds before Joe stepped from the house holding his cell phone out in front of him. Walker and the rest of the team followed.

  “Okay. Ty’s here and you’re on speaker.” Joe set the phone on the patio table.

  “Hey, Ty . . . everyone.” Rayna’s voice escaped the device, sounding small and uncertain.

  Ty’s breath caught in his throat. Relief that she was alive almost swept his legs from beneath him. It was a second before he could find his voice. “Hey yourself, sweetheart. Are you all right?” Was Sean listening to every word?