“I don’t need a public defender.”
“I can ask her to recommend a lawyer for you.”
“Stop trying to help me.”
“Then start trying to help yourself!”
He finally looked at her. “I’ll get a damn lawyer if you’ll leave me alone and get...out. Go pick into somebody else’s head.”
Hayley hesitated. There wasn’t anything more she could do. Not without Jason’s cooperation. “But you can get word to me if—”
He’d thrown his arm over his face again.
She sighed, hating the feeling of failure inside her. Hating even more her dreadful suspicion that he hadn’t remembered actually committing the heinous deed. But she never had a chance to say anything more because the door opened behind her again and a half-dozen men in black suits filed in, jostling her brusquely aside.
“Hayley.” The sheriff took her arm, tugging her out of the way and back through the door. “I’m afraid you need to leave. Seth’s waiting for you in my office.”
She wanted to protest, but the strange man in the lead was flashing a badge and barking orders and the door shut in her face, leaving her alone in the corridor.
When she entered Max’s office, she found Seth squared off with Tristan. “The FBI’s here already?”
“And a few other agencies,” Tristan said. “McGregor’s a popular guy with them all right now. They’re having a pissing contest over who gets him first.”
Her fists clenched. She wanted to reach for Seth but held back. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?”
She nodded, her eyes searching his. “He didn’t remember,” she said baldly.
Tristan was the one to answer. “He confessed. Provided enough details to place him at the scene.”
“Undoubtedly he was. But did he tell you he aimed the gun at his associates and pulled the trigger? Did he tell you that he wanted them dead and made it happen? Or that they were arguing and in the heat of the moment, he lost it?”
Tristan’s expression was stony.
Which was answer enough. “Where are they going to take him? What’s going to happen to him?”
Seth’s hand slid up her back. “He’ll have a hearing. To determine whether the confession is acceptable or not.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“He’ll need a helluva good lawyer either way,” Tristan said. “Because their interest in him isn’t just because of Jon and Manny. They think he’s one degree of separation away from a terrorist group and that’s too damn close.”
Hayley was horrified. “That’s absurd! You have to help him.”
“Hollins-Winword can do a lot. And has, often at the government’s request. But right now there’s a moratorium on information to us where he’s concerned. Nobody’s talking at all.” He jerked his head toward the office doorway. “I don’t even know where those suits plan to take him.”
“So you’re just going to give up?”
“Rumor has it that you wish Hollins-Winword didn’t exist.”
“Obviously you and the sheriff had a chance for a quick chat.” She wasn’t going to apologize for what she’d said about his company. “Whatever my feelings are about it, the agency does exist. So does some of that good that Sheriff Scalise told me about. Keep them from hanging Jason from a tree for something he didn’t do.”
“Cole’s working on it,” he said mildly. “But there’s nothing we can do right now to keep him here in Weaver.”
Hayley raised her hands. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it for now where Jason is concerned.” Proof of that was plain when they heard the sudden commotion in the outer office and looked back to see Jason, arms and legs in shackles, shuffling between two of the suits. The sheriff was following them, looking grim.
Hayley started to go for the door, but Seth scooped his arm around her waist, holding her back. “This isn’t the time to get in their way,” he murmured against her ear. “Let it go, Doc.”
She winced when the outer door slammed shut after the men left, taking their prisoner with them.
“This is all wrong,” she whispered huskily. Her fingertips pressed against Seth’s hard forearm. “I know you think he’s dangerous, but this is just all wrong.”
He sighed and she felt his lips press against her temple. “I’m sorry, Doc.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “The same question exists that always existed,” he said when they looked his way. “Somebody shot Jon and Manny last year. Jason or someone else. But why? Their covers weren’t blown. Jason remembers being there. He couldn’t have known some of the details he provided otherwise. If some of his memories are returning, what’s the likelihood of the rest coming back?”
A wave of tiredness suddenly washed over her. She couldn’t imagine how Seth even managed to stay upright. “Pretty likely,” she said. “But there’s no guarantee. And certainly no timeframe. Even if he remembers exactly the who, when, where and why of what happened in Central America, is there going to be someone who’ll believe him? Someone who’ll be able to act on it? And act on his behalf?”
“Yes,” Tristan said so quickly that some of her tension slid out of her. “So now my next question,” he was looking at Seth, “is whether you’re going to be around to help me figure that out or not?”
Hayley chewed the inside of her cheek, fresh tension accosting her.
“You tell me,” Seth returned after a long moment. “Is there a job for me to come back to?”
“Been a time or two I haven’t followed orders.” Tristan pushed away from the desk. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll leave you two to get on with...whatever.” He walked out of the office, leaving them alone.
Hayley looked up at Seth. Her cheeks were hot.
“Well.” He took her hands in his and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You heard the man. Let’s get on with...whatever.”
“Are you going to keep working for him?”
“I don’t know.” His blue gaze roved over her face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
His admission made her chest hurt.
“Since last year, I’ve thought the man killed his partners. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m wrong.” He went silent for a moment. “Maybe I am wrong about what happened to my old man, too.”
She wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders. Considering that Hollins-Winword’s significant resources hadn’t yet resolved the mystery in Central America, she shouldn’t be surprised that Seth hadn’t been able to use them to shed light on his father’s death so long ago. “You were eighteen and alone when that happened. Losing him had to have been devastating. But it was out of your control. Don’t blame yourself for that. And don’t blame yourself about Jason, either. Everyone suspected him.”
“And he had no means to defend himself.” Seth’s hands rubbed down her arms. “Except for you.”
“I didn’t accomplish anything. Those people still took him out of here in chains.” She pressed her cheek against his. “So I get to live with that.”
“You don’t want me blaming myself, then you’re not gonna get away with blaming yourself. Deal?” He slid his palms down the seat of her jeans.
“Deal,” she whispered.
“Good.” His lips brushed over hers. “Now, let’s get out of here and get on with...whatever.” His mouth covered hers and she pushed all her questions about the future out of her mind.
Right now she had the present.
And the present was him.
* * *
“This is not real bacon, Doc.”
Hayley hid her smile against her coffee mug and raised her eyebrows at Seth. They were sitting together at the kitchen island and even though it had been close to noon by the time they finally rolled
out of bed, Seth had said he was in the mood for bacon and eggs.
So that’s what she’d fixed.
“It’s not a figment of your imagination,” she said.
He gave her a dry look and finished off the crispy piece of turkey bacon. “I like the stuff that actually comes from a pig,” he drawled.
She shrugged. “I didn’t have any stuff from a pig in the fridge.”
“We’re gonna have to figure something out about this whole meat thing.” He shook his head dolefully, but the amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Turkey has its place. On the Thanksgiving table.”
She felt a little lurch inside, hoping she wasn’t prematurely reading a future into his words. “You didn’t even notice it was turkey bacon at first,” she countered, picking up his empty plate.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap when she turned to carry the plate to the sink. “I noticed. I was just too hungry to complain about it.”
“You’re always hungry,” she pointed out.
“Well, I am now.” His hand slid inside her robe and covered her breast. “Let’s go back to bed.”
She laughed softly and rubbed her hand over his bare chest. “We spent the morning in bed.” And she had Gretchen to thank for successfully rearranging her appointment schedule that morning so they could.
“Yeah, but sleepin’ doesn’t—” He broke off when the doorbell rang. “You don’t want to answer that.”
She didn’t. She wanted to sit there on Seth’s lap while he did wicked things with his hands, and then she wanted to go back upstairs, yank off the clean jeans she’d filched from Casey’s closet for him to wear and do some wicked things to him.
But the doorbell rang again insistently. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” She brushed her mouth against his, shimmying out from his grasp. “Just hold that thought.”
“I’d rather hold you.” He pushed off the barstool and followed her to the front door, looking through the peephole before she could. “Sugarnuts,” he muttered. “Might want to get some clothes on, Doc.”
She couldn’t help but smile over his use of the parentally approved curse from her childhood. “Who is it?”
“Your grandmother.”
Alarm shot through her, and she snatched the lapels of her robe together as if Vivian could see through the door. “How do you know my grandmother?”
“I don’t. But I know she’s the lady living in your house.”
“I can hear you talking through the door.” Vivian’s voice was muffled.
She cringed. “Then you know how surprised I am at your visit,” she responded as she pulled open the door.
Vivian’s bright eyes went from Hayley’s robe to Seth’s bare chest. “Well, well, well. I guess you’ve learned how to stay warm at night.”
Hayley was mortified but Seth actually chuckled. “This is Seth Banyon,” Hayley said dutifully. She didn’t know how to describe him, so she didn’t try. Particularly when Vivian had already drawn her own conclusions. “Seth, my grandmother, Vivian Archer Templeton.”
Vivian held out her hand. “A pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.” Seth turned her hand in his and dropped a kiss on the back of it. “Now I see where Hayley gets her beautiful brown eyes.”
Hayley’s cheeks warmed.
She was fairly certain that Vivian’s did, too, though it was hard to tell beneath the rouge she’d generously rubbed on her cheeks.
“Come in,” Hayley invited. She was supposed to be pleased about her grandmother getting out and about, but just then, she wished Vivian had chosen to stay holed up at her house with Montrose. “What are you doing here? For that matter, how’d you even know I was here?”
“Your secretary, of course.” Vivian clutched her old-fashioned handbag against her waist and strode into the house, looking curiously around her. “Mr. Bumble’s been telling me about the excitement at the sheriff’s station last night.”
“Bubba,” Hayley explained in answer to Seth’s frown. “From Ruby’s.”
“Right.” He jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “Shirt.”
He headed upstairs and Hayley followed barefoot after Vivian. “What did he tell you?”
“That you and your young man were there at all hours. Along with a few dozen vehicles with federal license plates.” She sent Hayley an arch look. “Evidently, you’ve been doing more than house sitting. I thought he’d left town.”
She had no intention of telling her grandmother what all had transpired in the past twenty-four hours. “He returned.” She tightened the sash on her robe again and pulled out a chair from the table for Vivian to sit, but her grandmother had already spotted Casey’s violin and lifted it tenderly from the shelf.
“Good. Now I can decide for myself if he’s good enough for you.”
“Seth’s good enough for anyone.”
“Ah.” Vivian’s thumb strummed gently over the strings. “You do like him.”
She was in love with him.
But that wasn’t something she felt ready to tell her grandmother. It wasn’t something she was ready to tell Seth, for that matter.
“What is his background? Does he have people?”
“Grandmother, his background doesn’t matter any more than mine does.”
“You called me Grandmother,” Vivian said.
“Oh.” She hadn’t even realized. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Vivian looked pleased. “Don’t be. I think I like it.”
Hayley smiled. “I think I like it, too.”
Vivian held the violin close to her ear, looking lost in reminiscence. “You’re right, of course, about backgrounds. Old habits are just hard to break.” She set the violin back on the shelf. “Especially for an old crone like me.”
“You’re not a crone.”
Vivian chuckled. “I’m certainly not a maiden.” She sat in the chair at the table and tugged at her chenille jacket. “Anyway, after reviewing the few houses around that are available for sale, I’ve decided we’ll have to build. I’ve found a few properties that might be suitable.”
“Already?”
“At my age there’s no time for dilly-dallying.” She opened her purse and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper. “I want your opinion before I move forward.”
Hayley unfolded the documents and glanced at the acreage listings. “This is probably the best one,” she said of the second page. “It’s closer to town.”
“Yes.” Vivian took the paper and studied it. “My Realtor said Squire Clay owns it,” she said in a casual tone.
Hayley smiled at the mention of Casey’s cattle-ranching grandfather. “He or a member of his family owns most of the land around here. Kind of surprised he’s parting with any of it, actually.”
“Everyone has their price.” Vivian folded the papers but she didn’t put them back in her purse. “I’m meeting with an architect this afternoon. I imagine Mr. Ventura will have an opinion about the suitability of the properties, also.” Her gaze went past Hayley to Seth as he entered the room. He’d put on one of Casey’s vividly patterned shirts, which stretched nearly to its breaking point over his shoulders.
“There’s a Rolls-Royce parked out front,” he said, looking vaguely shell-shocked.
“Have you driven one?” Vivian asked.
His lips twisted a little. “No, ma’am. Not on my salary.”
“I still can’t believe she managed to get something like that even delivered here,” Hayley said.
“As I said. Everyone has a price.” Vivian stood and smiled winningly at Seth. “You can take my granddaughter and me to dinner this evening and have a spin behind the wheel.”
“Montrose still not cooking for you?”
Vivian dismissed Hayley’s
question with a wave of her hand. “He’s still in a snit. He’ll get over it when I dangle a newly built chef’s kitchen in front of his nose.” She lifted her eyebrows at Seth. “Well, young man?”
“It’d be my pleasure to escort you ladies to dinner.”
Vivian’s smile was pure satisfaction. “Preferably someplace with tablecloths this time.”
“The only place I know of with tablecloths is in Braden,” Hayley warned. “China Palace.”
“Fine, fine,” Vivian said. “I’m not afraid of Braden, dear,” she said as she headed out of the room. “I’ll expect you by six.”
Seth didn’t speak until they heard the front door close after her. “A Rolls-Royce.” He shook his head. “That’s a fancy car.”
“Suits her fancy tastes,” Hayley said. “I’m glad she asked you to drive, though. She nearly took out a light pole in town the other day. She wants to hire someone to drive for her, and that can’t come soon enough.” She unfolded the acreage listings Vivian had left behind and nudged them toward him. “She wants to buy one of these and build a house, too.”
He glanced over them, his expression suddenly unreadable. “Think anyone around Weaver has ever had a private driver?”
“Not one who sat behind the wheel of a Rolls-Royce.”
Then Hayley leaned over and hooked her arm around his neck and kissed his stubbly jaw. “You still interested in...not sleeping?”
He shoved the papers aside and pulled her right off her chair and onto his lap. “What do you think?”
* * *
That evening, they stopped at Hayley’s house to pick up Vivian and exchange Hayley’s little sedan for the Rolls-Royce, which was, once again, parked haphazardly on the curb.
Hayley knew that Seth had met with Tristan. But he hadn’t offered any clue about whether he was going to continue working for Hollins-Winword. She didn’t know what he’d do once Casey and Jane returned in a few days and Hayley was back living at home again.
In short...she just didn’t know.
And nothing in her P, h or D was helping her resolve that fact.
When her grandmother came out of the house, she was wearing a deep red suit and matching lipstick that made her complexion look pale. “Are you feeling all right?” Hayley asked.
One Night in Weaver... Page 15