Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  As soon as they reached the grassy area where Kit and Jake had set up tables and chairs next to the grill on the lawn, he plopped down in a deck chair, adjusting Sarah to his shoulder. He watched Baylee drop in beside him for all of two seconds before she was bouncing up again asking, “How about a beer?”

  “Do you ever just sit down and relax for five damn minutes?”

  “Sorry.” She grinned. “It’s a habit.” Then she charged off toward the coolers lined up on the deck. The coolers held an assortment of cold drinks, everything from mini bottles of wine to beer to soda. Watching her walk away, it dawned on him that all three women had the same boundless energy, some unnamed strength that seemed to originate from deep within and radiate outward.

  Quinn, like any first-year resident, worked long shifts at the hospital. Kit owned her own business, and put in long hours, six days a week. As for Baylee, he’d seen her endless energy firsthand every day with Sarah. All three women were like energizer bunnies.

  And whenever the three of them were around each other that same energy force seemed to get stronger, almost as if they fed off each other. Whatever had happened to them in the past, Dylan surmised, must have affected all three of them in such a way that whenever one was down the other two picked up the slack.

  And then it came to him.

  Their difficult childhoods had to have played a role in shaping that never-ending force field that seemed to drive them at high-speed. What little Baylee had said was enough to tell him that Kit’s early years had been far worse than hers. And yet, he knew that after all these years, Baylee’s early pain still haunted her dreams. He’d seen that for himself last night.

  Admittedly, he didn’t know much about Quinn’s childhood, only that she was the daughter of the rock star Nick Tyler and a globe-trotting, free-spirited artist named Ella Canyon. Quinn’s parents never married, never lived together. But as he sat there holding Sarah, watching her sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what secrets Quinn held close to the vest. And she had to have a few.

  He looked down at the bundle in his arms and then stared at her mother, who’d finally decided to have a seat next to him. Here was a life he held that could be his responsibility. One he could personally see would turn out for the good if he did this right. It was something weighty to consider.

  Kit shoved an elbow in Jake’s ribs as he stood at the grill, beer in hand, flipping a burger. “Would you look at that? Doesn’t she look happier than you’ve ever seen her? Dylan wouldn’t hurt her, would he?”

  Jake reached around Kit’s waist, drew her in to him before glancing over at the man in question, who was in an animated conversation with Baylee. Jake nuzzled Kit’s neck, telling her, “He’s a good guy, Kit. Dylan’s been acting kinda funny ever since that night at the hospital, ever since he met her.”

  “But he has women crawling out of the woodwork,” Kit pointed out.

  Jake cocked a brow. What could he do, deny it? Willing to take up for his best bud, he said simply, “He takes care not to hurt anyone. Always has. Dylan’s able to walk that fine line that says, ‘We’ll have some fun, but let’s keep it light’ and then somehow manages to stay friends with all of them.”

  “All I know is that Baylee seems at ease around him.” As Kit continued to watch the woman and Dylan deep in conversation, she reminded herself it was simply a platonic arrangement designed to keep Baylee from leaving town. They had to get to know each other in order to share a house, didn’t they? And Sarah’s amended birth certificate thing was just a tactic to keep Connor from suspecting anything. “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “What? Them sharing a house.”

  “No. Amending Sarah’s birth certificate.”

  “It should. After all, Boyd has no reason to go looking at Sarah’s parentage.”

  About that time, Quinn meandered over, no longer wearing the wetsuit she’d worn to go surfing. She’d changed into white shorts and a red tank top, and held out an empty paper plate. “What’s taking so long with the food? You’ve got hungry people here.”

  Without letting go of Kit’s waist, with his free hand, Jake switched from a long spatula to a set of tongs, pinching a hot dog off the warmer and waving it in front of Quinn. Like a kid, she grabbed a bun and held it open while he dropped the meat inside. “This’ll tide you over until the steaks and burgers are done, which should be in about five minutes.”

  “Finally,” she said, as she took a generous bite and groaned. “Where were you hiding these? Are we roasting marshmallows later? Kit promised roasted marshmallows on top of melted chocolate and graham crackers.”

  “Where I come from we call those s’mores,” Reese said tactfully, as he walked up behind them to the cooler sitting on the deck and pulled out a beer. Twisting off the cap, he watched out of the corner of his eye while Quinn devoured her hot dog in four bites.

  “Yeah, well, whatever. Are we making those later over the fire the way we used to at the beach?”

  Jake one-handedly flipped another burger as he rubbed Kit’s back and wished he could get her alone, away from all these people. But that wasn’t going to happen for hours yet. Not until this picnic had run its course. He patted Kit’s rear end before turning to Quinn.

  “Kit decided the s’mores were a tad on the messy side. But you get your pick of assorted cookies and brownies, and if you’re really good, chocolate fudge cake.”

  Kit tacked on, “Slathered with lots of dark chocolate frosting the way you like it. You won’t miss the s’mores, I promise. And you won’t starve. Gloria made four different kinds of side salads.”

  Kit pointed to the table and Quinn followed her hand like a hound with a scent. She spooned out a generous helping of each kind of salad until she had potato salad, pea salad, pasta salad, and plain old leaf salad piled high on the double-duty paper plate.

  Reese took a pull on his beer. “Now there’s a woman with an appetite.” Taking in her trim five-foot-seven athletic body, he added, “Where do you put all that?”

  With a gleam in her eye, Quinn shot back, “So I’ve got a healthy appetite, sue me. You guys bitch about women who won’t eat, then when we do, you make snide comments about it. Either way, we can’t win.”

  Reese arched a brow and wondered why he was so intrigued with this woman who acted as if she couldn’t stand to get near him for five damn minutes. Determined to get on the woman’s good side if she had one, he conceded, “You’re right. It’s just that some women who work out in a gym for hours would kill to have your body.” And energy, he thought.

  That had her bobbling her plate. “Well, now I’m disappointed. I’d hoped the big-time lawyer might be attracted to my quick wit and brilliant mind instead of the way I look. How silly of me to think you could be that deep?”

  When it came to this woman, he didn’t seem to be able to win today, or any other day for that matter, so he took the path of least resistance. “That was a compliment.”

  “Was it?” She sighed. “Sorry, but I’m a little cranky.” When she saw the skeptical look on his face, she chuckled and said, “Okay, a lot. But I had to work a straight thirty-hour shift and then got called back in for twelve more on top of that, didn’t knock off until…” She glanced at her watch. “A couple of hours ago.”

  “I’ve heard horror stories from first-year residents about the brutal hours. You must be ready to drop.”

  What she could tell him about her brutal hours wasn’t for the faint-hearted. But she smiled and said, “I didn’t want to miss the party.”

  She didn’t tell him she’d needed to be around her friends, around people, after working on a four-year-old kid this morning for the longest twenty-five minutes of her life. Pulled from the family swimming pool, not breathing and without a pulse, the little girl had arrived at the ER for someone to save her life. It had fallen to Quinn. But she hadn’t been able to save her.

  After telling the family, seeing the sorrow in their eyes, the last thing she had wanted to do was crawl into b
ed and sleep. Her colleagues assured her she’d get used to that kind of thing. But she had a soft spot for kids. Where kids were concerned, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing children suffer or hurt. Or in this case die, drown. She could still see the kid’s eyes.

  She suddenly felt sick from all the food she’d just eaten. When she spotted Gloria setting the plates out on the picnic table, Quinn pulled herself back to the moment and headed off to see if she could help without a backward glance at Reese.

  Kit saw the frustration on Reese’s face and ambled over where he stood. “It isn’t you she doesn’t like.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Reese retorted.

  Kit shook her head. “She doesn’t like lawyers in general.”

  “Mind clueing me in as to why?”

  “Spending a lifetime communicating with your father through his lawyers makes a kid a little mistrustful when it comes to that particular profession. She doesn’t mean anything by it, Reese. It’s innate, a self-preservation tactic. Don’t give up on her. She’s a terrific person.”

  “A lifetime? But she’s Nick Tyler’s daughter.” Nick Tyler, Ireland’s proverbial rock legend, lead singer for Shatter, and the rock star he and every other kid his age had listened to and worshiped from afar, the guy Rolling Stone had once touted as the best lyricist of his time. “Growing up in Beverly Hills had to be a walk in the park.”

  Kit’s eyes fixed Reese with a cold stare. “You’d think so. wouldn’t you? But her father lived in Ireland.” If she said more, would she betray Quinn’s trust? Eyeing Reese’s confusion, she decided she needed to set him straight. “Let’s see if I remember my geography. Beverly Hills is way over here.” She used her hands to illustrate her point. “While Dublin, Ireland is way over here.” She had both arms extended out as far as they would reach in an exaggerated pose.

  “Get it? She’s never had a real relationship with Nick Tyler. Just lots of letters, notes, checks from his team of high-powered lawyers. Same goes for her mother.” But Kit didn’t intend to get into the Ella thing now while trying to explain Quinn’s slippery relationship with her father.

  “Tyler’s string of lawyers handled what few birthday and Christmas cards she received over the years. Any money for school, for clothes, came through them as well. When she was a kid, any request for money had to be put in writing, no matter what it was for. When her mother wasn’t around, the request fell to either Quinn or her stepfather. Being a product of a rock star and a free-spirited artist who didn’t stay in one place for more than a couple of years had its own challenges, Reese. Sounds glamorous on the surface, but the lawyers take care of Tyler’s financial responsibilities. That’s all Quinn ever was to him, a financial matter.”

  Feeling small for what he’d been thinking, Reese wanted to know, “What about now, now that she’s an adult? She’s successful, smart. Doesn’t she have a relationship with the guy now? I read somewhere on the Internet where the guy just divorced his third wife. You’d think he would’ve reached out to his daughter at some point.”

  “You’d think, but no. No reaching out for Nick Tyler. She tried when she was younger of course. All those times, she called and couldn’t get past his personal assistants or wrote letters to him that went unanswered. He was just too busy touring or recording or living that rock star life, a world that didn’t include his daughter. There are times when a kid just needs to talk to a parent about things that are happening at home, or at school, times when a kid just needs to hear from someone who cares, someone who thinks about them enough to ask how it’s going at school, interested enough to see they get birthday presents. But then once you reach a certain age, around fifteen or sixteen when that rebellious streak kicks in, it’s a little too late to have a relationship with someone who ignored you for the first fifteen years of your life.”

  “That explains a lot. Where was her mother during all this?”

  Kit sighed. “Oh, Reese. Her mother ended up marrying Tyler’s record producer. Quinn ended up moving here the summer before she started third grade. She was eight. But the marriage between Ross Jennetti and Ella Canyon lasted about as long as it took for the ink to dry on the license, no more than two years for sure. And then her mother took off, leaving Quinn here while she went in search of herself or whatever it is she does.”

  “Her mother left her with the stepfather and just took off? You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I were. From third grade on, Quinn lived in Jennetti’s house, a strange man who didn’t much like kids. But at least he gave her a place to stay and let her continue going to school here, knowing she couldn’t count on her mother for stability. That’s something, I guess.” Kit left it at that. She bit her lip to keep from saying any more about Ross Jennetti, knowing she’d said too much already.

  “Her mother left her with this guy? For how long?”

  Opened up that door, didn’t you? Kit blew out a breath. “She came back for visits at Christmas. Sometimes.”

  Reese narrowed his eyes. “This is a joke. You’re putting me on.”

  “No, Reese. I’m not. I really hope you won’t give up on her. Quinn happens to be a terrific person who loves children. After her residency, she wants nothing more than to become a pediatrician, open up a clinic. Ask her about it sometime.”

  Reese allowed himself another long look at Quinn. She was a woman with a prickly veneer. Why the hell she intrigued him was anyone’s guess.

  When Jake announced the steaks and burgers were done, everyone except Dylan and Baylee ambled over to the tables and dug into the food. As soon as Kit realized Baylee wasn’t going to leave Dylan, she piled two plates high with a couple of burgers and walked over, handing them off to Baylee. “You can put her down, you know,” Kit jokingly told Dylan, as she pointed to the port-a-crib they’d set up under one of the ancient oaks.

  “That’s what I told him, but he’s afraid of waking her up.”

  Dylan hungrily eyed the food, but tried to play it cool. “It’s no trouble holding her. I hate to wake up a sleeping baby.”

  “Well, you two need to eat,” Kit told him, as she reached down and gathered the sleeping infant into her arms.

  Making the transfer without waking up Sarah, Kit cradled her on her shoulder. “I’ll hold her while you two go eat.” She winked at Dylan and said, “You can’t hog her all afternoon, you know. You have to share. And remember, I’m available to babysit anytime she runs you two ragged.” She turned to Baylee. “I miss having you and Sarah at the shop.”

  “Now that I’m settled in at Dylan’s, I could start back tomorrow if you want.”

  Kit looked uncomfortable. She and Jake had talked about Baylee making the trip every day back and forth to San Madrid and decided it might be asking for trouble. Knowing Collin had used that tactic to run Kit’s Jeep off the PCH, they didn’t want to take the chance it might happen to Baylee.

  “Let’s give it another couple of days before you come back to work, to try and gauge Connor’s intent. That late night phone call isn’t a good sign he’s giving up.” She saw the disappointment come into Baylee’s eyes. “It’ll just be for a couple more days. We just want to make sure he doesn’t pay you a surprise visit and see Sarah.” Holding the baby, Kit motioned to the plates she’d fixed. “Now both of you eat. There’s enough food over there to feed a small army.”

  Jake watched Kit from twenty feet away. If it were possible, he fell in love with her just a little bit more. The woman had the sweetest nature of any woman he knew. Thank God she had come back to him safely. His hands fisted without even realizing it when he remembered how Kit had looked, bruised and battered, after Collin and his two thugs had pushed her Jeep off the road. She’d spent five days in the hospital. The memory reminded him of how close he’d come to losing her. There was only one man left standing who was responsible for hurting her. Jake intended to see the bastard locked up if it was the last thing he did.

  He hadn’t mentioned the e-mail he’d received that he hadn�
�t been able to trace. At the first opportunity, he intended to tell Reese and Dylan, and get their take. He just didn’t want Kit finding out and adding something else to the list of worries she had to deal with now.

  As the group finished their meal, they kicked back and lazily watched the sun dip low on the horizon over the glistening, choppy water. They took pleasure in the fiery pink sunset and watched as the harbor lights from San Madrid twinkled to life in the distance.

  Dylan conned Jake into helping him gather wood to build a bonfire, finding plenty of dry timber near the line of trees at the back of the house. But it took them close to thirty minutes to construct a makeshift fire pit with enough wood for a good fire that had any chance at lasting a couple of hours, at least until they called it a day and went inside.

  When Baylee saw what they were doing, she gave them both a thumbs-up. “Can’t have a picnic without a bonfire at the end of the day. Way to go, Surfer Boy.”

  When Sarah started to whimper in the Pack ‘N Play, Dylan stopped what he was doing, ready to go over to the baby. But Baylee held up a hand and said, “You keep going. I’ll get her. She’s wet is all, needs changing.”

  After retrieving Sarah, she headed off in the direction of the house to get a dry diaper, and met up with Reese near the deck. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you all day. I’d like for you to draw up a waiver or something that says I won’t hold Dylan financially responsible for Sarah’s support in the future. He needs to know that I won’t try to collect child support or anything like that.”

  Reese stared at the woman, wondering why she looked so different today and then realized it was the hair. “That’s admirable, Baylee, but I don’t think we need to put it in writing. I know Dylan isn’t worried about it.”

  “But you are. You don’t like loose ends hanging out there that might come back to bite Dylan in the ass later.” When he started to say something, she quickly added, “I don’t blame you for that. As his lawyer, it’s your job to watch out for him. That’s why I’d like for you to put it in writing. If you’ll draw up the necessary paperwork using whatever words you want to use, send it over to his house, I’ll sign it so he won’t be on the hook, financially.”