by Meryl Sawyer
He was right, of course, but until he said it Whitney hadn’t quite come to grips with her own close call. The bombing had been a devastating shock. All she could concentrate on was Miranda and the dogs. It was just now sinking in. She’d narrowly missed being killed by whoever was determined to murder her cousin.
If she hadn’t come here for a barbecue, she would have been in the cottage, asleep in the bedroom where the pipe bomb had been thrown. She would have died. In a delayed reaction, her composure started to crack.
“Why didn’t Miranda warn me?”
“She probably didn’t realize what she was involved in would have such deadly consequences.” His arm was around her, his tone comforting. A minute passed while she tried to calm herself. In the aftermath of her divorce, Whitney’s emotions were unstable. Knowing her only relative had betrayed her made something inside Whitney shatter into a million jagged pieces.
There was no way to sugarcoat this, she decided. “Miranda must have known. No matter how happy she seemed, she vanished without a trace for a reason. She should have warned me.”
Mind-numbing disbelief brought the sting of hot tears to her eyes. The tight rein she’d kept on her emotions collapsed. She refused to cry, but her body began to tremble so hard that she had to clutch her bare knees with both hands to keep the shaking under control.
“Try not to be upset,” Adam said. “Things will get better. Time will help. I know.” He squeezed her shoulders, but she didn’t feel any better. “I know what you’re going through.”
“How could you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I just lost everything I have on this earth. Not that things matter, but I almost died.”
Adam didn’t reply. She fought back the tears, then took a minute to let her painful breathing return to something near normal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He studied her a moment. His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion that revealed something she couldn’t decipher. He’d shared almost nothing about himself and had shown little emotion. She had no idea what was going on in his mind.
“We have a lot more in common than you might think. My uncle was the last of my family. At least you have your cousin.”
At this point Whitney couldn’t honestly say that was a good thing. Family protected each other, didn’t they? Miranda should have said something, done something so Whitney could protect herself.
“I had a brush with death that was even closer than yours.”
His tone brought her up short. She’d never seen him this intense…this serious. She waited for him to continue but he didn’t.
“You did?” she prompted. “When?”
She gazed into his eyes, but he didn’t respond. His shuttered expression warned her that he might not want to talk about this.
Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke. “I was in Iraq with my National Guard unit. I’d known the guys for years. We were weekend warriors who never expected we’d find ourselves in a battle zone.”
There was so much emotion in his words that she understood the Adam Hunter she’d known up to this point had been little more than an impression. From the moment he’d attacked her, Whitney had assumed things based solely upon her own conclusions—not facts. Adam had a power and depth to him that she hadn’t realized existed.
“Our unit was in charge of the security checkpoints between Baghdad and the airport. It’s five miles of hell. Every terrorist and every political faction wants to control the road or shut it down. I worked with Ed and Mike most of the time. We searched vehicles and checked identification at the first security post beyond the airport. After having our tours extended because we had special expertise, we were just ten days from coming home when we drove up to the Green Zone that morning.”
“That’s the safe area around U.S. headquarters, right?”
“Supposedly. We were in an armored vehicle, just the three of us, at the entry checkpoint. A woman came up with a baby in her arms. You could see the kid was sick. Its face was red and it was bawling. She held out the baby to us—”
Whitney waited for him to continue. She was almost afraid to hear what he was going to say.
He averted his eyes and directed his gaze across the living room to the landscape painting on the wall. “It happened all the time,” he finally began, his voice pitched low. “Innocent civilians—kids and even babies—were injured in terrorist attacks. Their medical facilities sucked so they often came to us for help. Mike waved her off and just as he did I had this…feeling.”
She waited in stricken silence, half knowing what he was going to tell her.
He turned back to her. “I knew. I don’t know how, but in that instant I realized she was going to kill us.”
Whitney tried to imagine how horrible that must have been, but couldn’t. Until tonight her only experience with death had been her mother’s battle with cancer. She had been warned. Death had been expected.
“I knew we were as good as dead. There was no way to get out of the vehicle in time. Hell, I didn’t even have the chance to open my mouth and warn my buddies.”
Anguish colored every syllable he uttered. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Her brush with death had been nothing compared to his.
“I still can’t believe it. That mother had a bomb concealed under her clothes. She knew it was going to kill her and her baby.”
Whitney couldn’t imagine it either. How could any mother take the life of her own child?
“She detonated the bomb just as I yelled, ‘Duck.’ An explosion of light, a bang like nothing I’d ever heard, then the world went as black as hell itself.”
Whitney didn’t know what to say. Obviously, he’d survived. Had either of his friends?
“I woke up a week later in a field hospital. I had a massive concussion. I wasn’t allowed to lift my head for another week. It hurt like a sonofabitch. There was a helluva ringing in my ears. The nurses had to shout for me to hear them.” He shrugged dismissively. “My friends weren’t so lucky. They were blown to bits.”
The naked emotion in his voice told her how deeply he felt the loss. Nothing she could say would bring his friends back or make this situation easier. After a few seconds, she managed to whisper, “That must have been horrible.”
“Not as horrible for me as it was for their families. You see, Mike had a pregnant wife. Ed had a wife and three kids.”
She tried to imagine what their families must be going through but couldn’t. True, she’d lost her mother, but there hadn’t been young children involved. Her mother’s cancer had slowly eaten her alive over the course of two miserable years. There’d been enough time to brace herself for the inevitable.
“I’m sorry I whined. My experience wasn’t anything—not nearly—”
“Death is death. Like I said, knowing you almost died is a mind-altering experience.”
“Yes, but you were wounded. You physically felt it.”
“Small difference.”
She waited a moment before telling him, “When Mom died I learned something very important. There are things in life that money can replace. Then there are the things in life that no amount of money can replace. I would have given all I had or ever hope to have to save my mother. But it didn’t matter. She died anyway.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He reached over and took her hand.
“I’m sure you learned the same lesson. Money isn’t everything. When I saw the fire, my first thought was the dogs hadn’t died. It wasn’t until a bit later that I realized someone wanted Miranda dead.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Talking had calmed Whitney a little and made her realize others had been through much worse. Not just Adam, she decided, but thousands upon thousands of people she didn’t know. Around the world others had faced death and had survived. She knew Adam was suffering from survivor’s guilt, but she couldn’t think of anything to say or do to ease his pain.
Adam ro
se to his feet and she let him help her up. “Let’s find some bed linens and get you settled in the maid’s quarters.”
She followed him up the stairs to the linen closet in the hall. She noticed how neatly stacked the sheets and towels were. Military training, she decided, and wondered what his uncle had been like.
“How about one of my T-shirts to sleep in?” he asked.
It seemed a little personal but she had no choice. She was going to have to wear these clothes until she could buy new things. “Thanks.”
She waited in the hall while he went into a bedroom. A cold nose on the back of her leg told her Lexi had followed her upstairs. The others were right behind her and Whitney couldn’t help smiling.
Adam returned and handed her a blue T-shirt. “Get some sleep.”
“Thanks, I’ll…” Her voice trailed off as their fingers touched. She took a reflexive half step back.
What was wrong with her? She’d kissed this man—really kissed him. Why did this feel so much more intimate? Because she was alone with him in a big isolated house, she decided. Not only were they alone, she was going to be sleeping in a shirt he’d worn dozens of times. The fabric felt soft in her hand and she imagined it against his skin. Unexpectedly, her heart was racing.
His eyes gleamed at her, the pupils dilating as he spoke. “I wish I had something better, but—”
“No, no. It’s fine, really.” An anticipatory shiver tiptoed up her spine. She could feel the air between them almost sizzle. Heat unfurled deep inside her body, her heart now thudding against her rib cage.
He reached out with one hand and touched her cheek. It was a simple gesture, but his fingertips were warm and slightly callused—and unbelievably erotic. It was all she could do not to throw the T-shirt to the floor and fling herself into his powerful arms.
“Adam.” His name came from between her lips in a whisper filled with longing.
He gazed down at her, his eyes dark, restless with the same desire she felt. Their bodies were just inches apart. She could feel the warmth seeping from his rock-hard body to hers. It wouldn’t take much, she realized. All she would have to do was make a forward move.
She took a deep breath, intending to part her lips for a kiss. A trace of smoke lingered in the air and its smell reminded her of what had happened tonight. She awkwardly took a side step.
Adam got the message, saying, “The keys to the Rava are on the kitchen counter. You take it—”
“I couldn’t. I—”
“It’s okay. I’ll drive my uncle’s car. You have to work, don’t you?”
She nodded. Right now she needed money and taking care of the dogs was her best way of making it. “Thanks.”
“You can help me out by taking Jasper to the breeder. He’s supposed to be there tomorrow morning. I’ll put the address and phone number by the keys.”
She turned to go. “Call me as soon as you talk to Jared Cabral. I want to know what he has to say about Miranda.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ASHLEY TRIED TO concentrate on doing one more leg lift, but her mind wasn’t on the workout. She told Preston, “Let’s grab some juice and talk.”
He shrugged, lifting impressive shoulders. “Okay.”
He followed her into Dr. Jox’s juice bar. She ordered her usual pomegranate juice and he asked for a Redline.
“What’s that?”
“A new drink. Like Red Bull but with a bigger kick.”
Red Bull made Ashley jittery but a major jolt of caffeine didn’t seem to bother Preston. They took their drinks and went outside. Ashley hadn’t had a chance to discuss the fiasco with the dog. The workout stations were too close to each other to risk someone overhearing their conversation.
She sat at the table under the tree with the shady canopy. “I’m sorry about the other night. Ryan somehow figured out I was involved.”
“You told me that when you phoned me to return the mutt.” His clipped tone told Ashley he was angry with her.
“You’re upset with me. I’m sorry.” Ashley didn’t want him to hold this against her. She needed a friend now more than ever.
Preston chugged his Redline. “Don’t blame yourself. It was my idea. I just didn’t count on cops getting involved.”
“Cops? What are you talking about?”
“Adam Hunter’s a cop. He was here first thing yesterday morning.”
Ashley listened while Preston explained about Adam’s visit. “He agreed not to tell Whitney that you were behind her dog’s disappearance. This way she won’t blame your husband.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Yesterday had been one of the two days each week that Ashley didn’t train with Preston. When she’d been competing, she worked out for hours every day. Since her mother’s death, Ashley allowed herself time to do things she enjoyed.
“I tried your cell but kept getting voice mail. I didn’t want to leave a message in case…”
His words hung between them. She knew he intended to say: in case Ryan picked up her messages. She couldn’t help being touched by the way Preston always tried to help her.
“Do you think Adam Hunter will keep his word?” She didn’t want Ryan to find out her “girlfriend” was really a man. He had nothing to worry about, but Ryan was overly protective of her.
“I thought so. Then I saw the news this morning. I expect the police will be knocking on both our doors.”
“What?” She stared at him slack-jawed, certain she’d misunderstood him.
“Didn’t you catch the morning news?”
“No. I usually have the TV on while I’m dressing, but not today.” When she’d awakened, Ryan had left already. It had been too early for him to go to the office where he was still practicing until the new clinic opened. She wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but having him out of the house had given her the opportunity to look through the things on his desk.
In the bottom drawer she’d found a manila folder with DOMENIC CORIZ written across the top. Inside were names and telephone numbers. She couldn’t decide what they meant.
Then Ashley had dressed and hadn’t been able to find her ring. She thought she’d put it on top of her jewelry box last night, but it wasn’t there. She might have left it on the windowsill when she’d prepared dinner. She’d been so nervous about cooking her mother’s meatballs that she couldn’t remember. She’d left the house without being able to locate the ring. She was going home to hunt through the trash.
“Someone firebombed the cottage where Ryan’s ex lives.”
It took a second for what he’d said to register. “How terrible! Was anyone hurt?”
“The reporter said no one was home even though it was late at night.”
“Whitney was probably with Adam.”
“What makes you say that?”
How could she explain women’s intuition to a man? They didn’t seem to have hunches the same way women did. “Trust me. Women know these things. When they came to the house, I could tell Adam has the hots for her.”
“Whatever.” Preston tinkered with his Redline can for a moment before tossing it all the way across the patio and into the trash can. “We can expect the police to contact both of us.”
“Why? We had nothing to do with it.”
“They’ll question Whitney. She’ll tell them about her divorce and Lexi’s disappearance. The police will chase down all the leads.”
“You’re probably right,” she replied. “What are we going to say?”
“Tell the truth. They’ll find out anyway. I told Hunter. He’s bound to—”
Ashley’s cell phone erupted with the opening bars of “Proud Mary.” She rummaged in her gym bag for a moment before locating it, thinking again about her father. Was he happy? Did he ever think about her?
“Hello?”
“Ashley? This is Whitney Marshall. Is Ryan there?”
It took her a second to remember she’d used call forwarding. Whitney thought she’d reached their house. “No. He’s at his offi
ce.”
Whitney didn’t respond for a moment. “I called there, but he’s not expected in today.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Her quick comeback was a total lie. Why wasn’t Ryan in the office? Could he be with Domenic Coriz?
“Would you give him a message for me? We had a fire here last night. The police questioned me. I had to tell them I’m finalizing a property settlement after a divorce. They may come to talk to Ryan. Tell him it’s routine.” Whitney paused before adding, “I’m not trying to make any more trouble.”
“How’s Lexi?” Ashley had been so shocked when Preston had told her about the bombing that she’d forgotten about the dog.
“She’s fine. She was with me.”
“Good, good.” Ashley couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did the fire do much damage?”
“Yes. The cottage is completely destroyed.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashley said and she meant it. She couldn’t imagine losing everything. Misplacing her wedding ring was no big deal compared to this. “Do you have someplace to stay?” The second she asked, Ashley regretted prying and quickly added, “In case Ryan wants to reach you?”
“I’m staying in the maid’s quarters at the main house until I can make other arrangements. Have him call my cell if he needs me.”
Ashley assured Whitney that she would tell Ryan, then snapped her cell phone shut. Preston was studying her, and Ashley explained why Whitney had called.
“We’ll hear from the police for sure. There aren’t many pipe bombings around here. The cops will be all over this one.”
Preston sounded worried. She’d never seen him brood like this. He’d always been upbeat. It suddenly struck her that although she often told him about her problems, she’d rarely asked about his. “Is something wrong?”
“Not really. I just don’t like cops messing in my business.”
She sensed it was more than that. “What else has you upset? Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
He rocked back on the legs of his chair. “I was in some trouble when I was a kid. I took a neighbor’s car for a joyride. I was arrested, and I’ve hated the police ever since.”