Mallory threw around the word love, half as a joke. Until then Leah had danced around it and pretended it wasn’t possible, hid behind the problems that threatened to pull her away from Declan. Here, in the quiet of her bedroom, with his touch still fresh in her mind and the smell of him lingering on the sheets, she let her mind wander to that scary vulnerable place.
If she loved him, she’d give him the power to hurt her. The type of love she’d known from boyfriends and even her father had been fleeting or come with conditions. But no matter how many times she examined it she circled back to the same basic fact—she believed in Declan. In the two of them together.
Through all the stress and confusion, she wanted to be with him. She hadn’t wanted it or planned on it, but she did love him. It didn’t hit her in a bolt of lightning or slam into her out of nowhere. It was more of a slow build until she saw her life stretch out in front of her and for the first time she wasn’t standing there alone.
The admission she dreaded so much turned out to be so freeing. She wanted to dance and squeal. Her heart fluttered and she smiled until her cheeks ached.
The next step would be harder. She knew he wanted her and enjoyed being with her. Telling him the emotions reached so much deeper for her might push him away. But for a person who rarely took chances this was one she wanted to take.
Dropping the sheet, she got up. The chill of the floor and air hit her a second later. On her way out the bedroom door, she stopped to grab the pink slip of lace she teased him with two nights ago. The nightie barely reached the top of her thighs and dipped low over her breasts. Amazing the thing wasn’t shredded. He’d practically torn it off of her.
With light steps, she tiptoed across the hardwood floor. She didn’t want to scare him, but she loved when his surprised gaze landed on her and his eyes went all dark with need. If he turned that heated look on her right now they might never get back to bed.
Every part of her tingled at the thought.
She turned the corner, expecting to find him hitting the peanut butter jar in the kitchen. The light glowed above the sink, but the counter area was empty. She glanced into the family room and found it dark and quiet. Slipping around the corner, she spied him. He sat in the dining room with his elbows on the table and head in his hands. Papers and folders lay scattered in front of him and in haphazard stacks on the floor.
Her mind went blank. The vision didn’t disappear when she blinked. “Declan?”
His head shot up as his gaze trailed down her body. “What are you doing up?”
“I woke up and you were gone.”
“Okay.”
Silence beat down on her. He’d fixed the drip at her sink a few days ago, so even the steady thump of water against steel was gone.
His expression didn’t give him away. No emotion played there. The flash of something that looked like guilt disappeared as soon as she’d started talking. Now he stared at her as he slowly stood up, papers crunching under his chair.
Still, none of it made sense in her head. They rarely talked about the investigation these days. He gained nothing by digging into the past and had always been so clear he looked forward only. Yet here, strewn over the very same table her father gave her when she set up the house was the evidence of . . . something.
“What . . . why are you looking through my files?”
“For information.” He tapped a pen against the table.
The rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat mesmerized her. She had to pull her attention away from the drumming to look at him again. “On what?”
“My family.”
She didn’t remember walking or even moving but she now stood perpendicular to him and within touching distance, though she had no desire to reach out. Concentrating as hard as she could, she tried to restart her brain. “You don’t care about any of this. You’ve said a million times how sick you are of Charlie’s crimes and being connected to them through nothing other than blood but still getting all the blame.”
His unblinking stare faltered. “It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think? Tell me because I’m really not sure.”
“I’ve been reading through the material, looking for connections.”
Pain shot through her side. A stabbing shock that cut right to the bone. She had to press her hand against it to fight back the twisting ache. “Connections to what?”
The tapping slowed. On the final tap, the pen seemed to float in the air before he dropped it completely. “Something that would explain Walker Reeves and Kristin Accord.”
Those names, those people, they kept falling right in front of her and ruining everything. “Ask Callen. Hell, Declan, ask me.”
“I should have. I was going to.” That blank expression slipped.
No, he wasn’t.
A nerve ticked in his cheek and, for a second, she saw a window into the man. The signs weren’t all that well hidden now that she hunted for them. He balled his hands into fists, straightened his fingers then balled them again. Worry lines crossed his forehead.
She swallowed back a burning sensation in her throat. “But?”
“I didn’t want the information routed through people’s perceptions or Callen’s anger.”
Raging disappointment filled in the space left open by her confusion. “Do you really think he’s committed fraud like Reeves alleges?”
“No.” The swift answer left little room for question. When it came to Callen and Beck, Declan’s trust was absolutely and his defense immediate.
This was about something else. Something that had Declan, usually so clear and quick to say what he meant, stumbling over his words.
She was more lost now than when they started talking. “Then what’s going on? Explain it to me.”
He shook his head then stopped. A dropped mouth and brief stare at the table followed. Just when it looked like he wouldn’t actually say a word, he spoke in a monotone voice. “There have been so many secrets. I figured if I could page through it all I might be able to make some sense out of it.”
That wasn’t it. Not all of it. She’d used that same excuse to justify keeping the files, and now Declan used us it to explain his odd actions.
“But why sneak around?” she asked, fearing what the answer would be.
“I didn’t . . .” Right before she unloaded on him with examples, he held up a hand. “Fine, I did.”
“At least we can agree on that.”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Look, there’s something here. Something you couldn’t have seen because you didn’t have the full document. Even if you had you might have missed it because you weren’t looking for it.”
“What are you talking about?” Not knowing where this was going, she grabbed the back of the chair and held on to keep her from falling down.
“In that initial con, the one that kicked off all the others, Charlie had a partner.” Declan shifted through the papers and pulled one sheet out.
She recognized it from a long-ago review. “I’ve seen that. Charlie worked alone. He always worked alone.”
Declan flipped the paper over. “You saw this version. It’s probably a draft copy, but it’s definitely not the original. Not the one at the center of the con against the town.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“I have the actual loan document. It was part of the government file and got turned over, I’m guessing by accident and too soon after he died.” Declan kept talking even as she held her hands to her head. “There’s a note on the back about bank accounts. A note that shouldn’t be there and was probably forgotten over time.”
“None of this is important. If it was, the prosecution would have used it.”
Declan talked right over her. “Some of the letters are hard to read after all this time, but one thing is clear. My fath
er had help when he stole the town’s investments.”
With eye contact gone, Declan’s gaze bounced all over the room. She didn’t even need that clue. It was the way he said it, hesitating over each word, that tipped her off.
Her mind blocked out the words she knew were coming as she dug her nails into the chair. “No.”
“It’s pretty clear. I’ve looked at other documents. I recognize the handwriting.”
“Stop it.”
Declan pointed to the faint scribble in the lower corner. “It’s a stray comment buried in a list of plans, this one about which bank to use for the legitimate account to hold the investment funds for the big town-marketing kick-off.”
No, no, no. “Stop talking.” She held up her hand to block his words.
“It says, ‘will put the money in the Shadow Hill safe’ right next to the date, November fifth. Your dad owned Shadow Hill then, not Charlie. The handwriting isn’t Charlie’s.”
She knew every date. Every line. “That means nothing.”
“The date is one day before Charlie stole all the money and split town.”
“So what?”
Declan’s face paled as the life leeched out of it. “Your dad held the money that was supposed to be in the town bank account. The same money your dad certified he deposited in the town’s bank account and claimed he never saw again. Instead, he really took it to his house and held it there.”
“That proves nothing.” And it couldn’t be true, because if it was then everything she’d ever been taught and everything she’d believed in had been a lie.
All those years of plotting revenge and hours spent trying to regain Shadow Hill would have been a waste. Worse, a wild chase led by her father to drag her away from the awful truth of his crime.
“Your dad lied. He was in on the con and Charlie double-crossed him.” With a hand on the paper, Declan pushed it over so that it sat right in front of her. “Charlie didn’t just take your mom. He took the money your dad thought he would share in.”
Something shattered inside her. The love that had made her so happy a second ago, that she’d coddled and held so close, split her open. She’d been weaving fancy dreams and Declan had been in here plotting. Lies upon lies upon lies.
She launched her body, pounding her fists against Declan’s chest as words ripped from her. “Shut up, shut up.” She shoved against his shoulders then thumped him again. “Shut up.”
He held her at the waist with a light grip and put his head back out of hitting range, but he didn’t stop her. Her emotions swirled and boiled. She wound up and lashed out until her energy plummeted and it hurt to lift her arms.
His hand went to her hair as his whisper blew across her ear. “Listen to me.”
The sympathy snapped her back to reality. Using what little strength she had in reserve, she pushed away from him, breaking contact.
There had to be a reasonable explanation. She grabbed for the most obvious. “You did this.”
“What?”
She ignored the sadness in his eyes and concentrated on the images flooding her brain. “Oh my God, how did I not see it? You wormed your way in here and then planted evidence.”
Bile sloshed in her stomach. She had to clamp her lips together to keep from getting sick. The sex. Loving him. It had all been part of some sick plan and she fell for it, threw away her skepticism when he kissed her and never questioned again. She almost doubled over as she pushed back the tears that begged to flow.
Declan held up the paper. “Look at the signatures. Look at the dates.”
“Who knows what you’re capable of?” She did once, but lost sight of it all. She couldn’t believe she let a handsome face and strong hands throw her so far off track.
Damn, he was good. Better than Charlie, even.
Declan’s eyes widened as a surge of tension whirled around him. “You can’t possibly believe I’m setting your dad up.”
It all made sense. There was no other reason for him to sneak behind her back. “It explains why you didn’t get angry about the whiteboard.”
He shoved away the chair she used as a shield. The legs scraped against the floor as he closed in. With his hands wrapped around her upper arms, he shook her. “I was fucking furious and you know it. I am now, too. You see that much at least, right?”
Fear slid across her consciousness then fled again. Even with the flushed cheeks and stiff jaw, she felt his control. He wouldn’t hurt her, at least not physically. Emotionally he’d already crushed her. Threw her to the floor and ground a foot on her.
“A token fury, and you got over it. Because you figured out it was the perfect in. You wanted the house, to clear your dad’s name and to frame mine.” She lifted her arms and broke his grip. “You got it all and all you had to do was sleep with me.”
“You are twisting this all around.”
For the first time in weeks, she saw it all so clearly. “Get the hell out of my house.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She glanced at the phone on the kitchen wall and saw Declan’s gaze follow hers. Judging the distance and his speed, she calculated she’d lose the race, but that didn’t matter. “I will call Clay and let him drag you away. He can lock you up for all I care. I should have done it at the beginning.”
“You’re talking nonsense.” Declan shifted his weight ever so slightly, putting his body one step closer to the phone.
“That was my job, you know. To get close to you and figure out how to destroy you.”
His ready stance dropped. Shoulders down and head tipped forward, he treated her to a bewildered look. “What the fuck are you saying?”
“You sneak into my house—”
“Sneak? Lady, do you forget how you greeted me at the door tonight?”
Last time that would ever happen. She didn’t hold back with him and she got burned. “I learned my lesson, believe me.”
“Don’t act innocent. I read some files. Big deal compared to you.” He pointed toward the front door. “You are out there holding meetings with Kristin Accord and Walker Reeves. I didn’t exactly hear you disclosing that.”
Leah actually felt a thunk in her brain. Clarity she had. Now she fought for air. “Are you having me followed?’
“I didn’t have to. People wanted me to know.”
“You act like anyone in town willingly talks to you.” She shot the words at him, aiming to hurt.
“No thanks to your family.”
Her temper flamed to match his. She could trade insults all night. “Do not blame this on me. You are the one skulking around after I go to bed.”
“Do you—” He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. With a bite of his lower lip, he blew out a long breath. “Okay, let’s calm down. Just tell me about the meetings.”
She saw him wind down but refused to join him. “Why should I bother when you’ve already made up your mind? Or are you just collecting more data for your campaign against my dad?”
“You know none of that’s true,” Declan said with all the heat gone from his voice.
“The only thing I know is you’re leaving. Grab your pants and whatever else you’ve left here over the last few days, and get the hell out.” For the first time, her lack of clothing registered. So did his. He stood there in his underwear and tee. With the fighting tapering off, her near nudity and the cool temperature of the room combined to highlight her vulnerability. “And next time you sleep with some poor woman to get information, save the bedroom routine. Like father, like son and all that, but the mental screwing was enough. You could have skipped the actual screwing.”
“You are pissing me off.”
Her temples felt like someone had them in a death grip and kept squeezing. “Am I about to see that famous Declan Hanover temper?”
“Leah, don’t push me.”
She rubbed her head but the pressure wouldn’t ease. “Why stop now?”
“I’ll leave, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” He stood shoulder to shoulder with her now and nodded in the direction of the table. “You’ll notice I’m not keeping the paper.”
“I’m sure you can fake another one.”
“This isn’t over.” He was close enough for her to hear his teeth grind together.
“Funny, it feels like it’s over.”
When he walked out three minutes later without saying a word or looking in her direction, her leg muscles gave out. Keeping it together while he was here sapped her strength. She slid to the cold floor and cried until her chest convulsed and she had to gasp for breath.
A half hour after that, she called Mallory.
Chapter Twenty-two
At five in the morning Leah sat wrapped up in oversized sweats and nursing a cup of tea. She sat on the family room couch with her legs curled under her. Being in the dining room made her stomach heave, so she let Mallory go in there and look around on her own.
Leah sipped, letting the steam spray her face though she doubted she’d ever be warm again. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’ve said that five times now. Once more and I get my pre-teen girl on and pull your hair.” Mallory walked back in with a folder in her hands. A stack of papers hit the coffee table a second later.
“It’s really late.”
“Technically at this point I think it’s really early.” She dropped in the chair across from Leah, delivering one of her exaggerated sighs. “I wasn’t busy anyway. And even if I were it wouldn’t have mattered. You were crying, which was a pretty momentous occasion. And by momentous I mean shitty.”
Leah eyed Mallory over the top of the mug. “I would not waste tears over him.”
But Leah had. Buckets full and not pretty sniffles. Nope, she balled and wailed and then cursed Declan for being born. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried with her shoulders, stomach and every other sick-with-exhaustion part of her. Her heart actually ached from the loss, and her headache refused to ease no matter what she did.
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