Pride of a Hunter

by Sylvie Kurtz

  “Aw, Mo-om. Can’t we take the truck? Dom said we could.”

  “No.” She aimed her son toward the stairs. “And see if you can connect a brush with your hair.”

  Dom stirred a hand through Brendan’s dark hair as he went by. “Next time, sport.”

  Brendan whined and clomped his way up the stairs.

  Next time? No, no next time if she could help it. She’d get the information Dom needed and end this tor ture as soon as possible. There was no need to prolong this agony of forced proximity. Not with Cole, the two-ton albatross they couldn’t discuss, sitting between them.

  When the van’s bucket seats proved to be too close also, she fought the urge to bolt from the vehicle and return to the relative haven of the barn. The calming rhythm of chores, that’s what she needed, not Dom’s sinful drawl next to her as he entertained Brendan with wild stories of chasing after bad guys with his sheriff father.

  “Luce, you okay?” Dom asked as she popped the parking brake and shoved the van in gear. The friendly brush of his fingers against her shoulders to catch her attention only ratcheted her nerves up another notch.

  “I’m just peachy.” He could read right through her tight smile, but she didn’t care, and he was wise enough not to pursue the matter. This afternoon was going to be about as entertaining as eating nails. “Hold on to the torte. I’m told it’s Warren’s favorite.”

  “Then I’ll take extra special care of it.” He lifted the foil-wrapped torte to his nose. “Smells great.”

  Jill’s house was everything that Luci’s wasn’t. Only two years old, it contained every convenience that one could imagine. Forest-green and cranberry trim accented the cashew shake-shingle siding. The house sat on Thoreau Lane, on a half-acre piece of land that worked hard to look natural but took a small army of landscapers to trim into shape. The lot overlooked the twelfth hole of Marston Country Club golf course. Her backyard faced the Nashua River and the wall of windows at the back of the house made the view seem like a moving painting. Today the scene was a portrait in gray—gray slate veranda, gray water, gray sky.

  The scent of autumn-spice potpourri greeted them with a warm welcome. Jill’s smile emitted enough electricity to light up the gloom of the day. She wore riding boots, a black riding skirt and a red suede vest that made her look as if she’d just come back from a hunt, even though those boots had never stepped on horse apples or that skirt sat a saddle. Her blond-highlighted bob made a sleek and perfect frame around her gamine face. “You must be the mystery man in the burgundy truck. I’m Jillian Courville. Call me Jill.”

  “Not so much mystery, Jill. Dominic Skyralov.” A great big smile decorating his good-old-boy face, he gave a little bow and presented her the torte as if it were a royal treasure. “Call me Dom.”

  Jill, as most women did, batted her eyelashes at him. “Where has Luci kept you hidden?”

  “I’m fresh up from Houston.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll stick around for a while. Luci needs some shaking up, and you seem like just the person who could do it.”

  The problem was that if Dom did too much shaking, Luci would break apart. And that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Brendan dashed ahead to Jeff’s room where they would no doubt play video games on Jeff’s state-of-the-art system and stay out of the way of the stuffy adults.

  “I like him,” Jill whispered as she dragged Luci into the gleaming peach and stainless steel kitchen. A man stood at the granite counter pressing hamburger meat into patties. The salmon was already marinating in a glass dish.

  Before Jill could make introductions, the doorbell rang again—a perfect three-toned chime. She slid the torte onto the counter and said, “I’ll be right back. Warren, introduce yourself.”

  Warren washed his hands and came toward them, as if he had nothing to hide. Luci had expected a used-car salesman slickness about him, but he was just an average guy. His fine espresso-colored hair was cut in a neat style. His dove-gray fitted silk dress shirt, complete with mother-of-pearl cufflinks, went well with his designer-label charcoal pants and his black leather loafers, yet the cut of his cheekbones and the jut of his chin still gave him that noir edge Jill would find intriguing. His milk-chocolate eyes made contact with Luci’s, reflecting warmth and confidence. Country-club clean, movie-star good-looking and boy-next-door charming. Luci had to give him points for knowing his target inside out.

  “Hi! You must be Luci.” He extended a hand, leaning toward her. Warmth spilled from him like a waterfall and flowed into her, jarring her with a feeling of instant connection she hadn’t expected. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Luci. I’m Warren.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” I’d love to know your real name and why you want to hurt Jill. She turned to Dom, who stepped forward, extending a hand. “This is my friend, Dominic Skyralov.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dominic. Can I offer you something to drink? Beer, wine, soda?”

  “Thanks, Warren,” Dom said, ratcheting up the drawl in his voice. Why was he playing up the redneck? So Warren would feel superior? “A beer’ll hit the spot.”

  All this fake rapport building was why Luci had gone to sniper school instead of negotiator school. As a sniper, silence was golden and that suited her just fine. She’d leave the talking to Dom. She was better at the stealth part, anyway—at least once upon a time.

  Jill returned to the kitchen with Barbara and Neil Walden in tow. Their parents were dressed for this Saturday afternoon family barbecue as if they were attending some business lunch at the club. Her mother wore a tweed suit in shades of autumn and her father his usual black suit and red-striped power tie. Introductions were made all around. Dom managed to charm a smile out of her mother in spite of the dog hair decorating his pants. But Warren trumped him by offering to take her mother’s jacket and purse and dropped both on the chair by the telephone table in the hallway.

  Barbara gave Luci a quick hug, more air than body, enveloping her in a cloud of Guerlain, then held on to her wrists while she inspected her eldest daughter. “Lucinda, you’re here already.”

  Luci bit her tongue and reminded herself her mother meant well and that, yes, lately, she’d run even later than usual at everything. “I have to leave by seven to get home in time to milk the goats.”

  Her mother tilted her head, not moving a single hair on her shellacked chestnut curls, and her hazel eyes filled with that special sadness she saved just for Luci. “Why don’t you hire a farmhand to do those nasty chores?”

  “Because I like doing those chores.” Those nasty chores helped save her soul every day.

  “I’ve offered to pay for part-time help,” Barbara said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Luci’s ear.

  She means well behind all that smothering, Luci reminded herself yet again. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “You look tired. Maybe if you had a little help…you could enjoy your time with Brendan a little more.”

  Ouch. “Thanks, Mom, I appreciate your concern, but Brendan and I spend plenty of time together.” Working hard through August was better than sinking too deeply into herself. But her mother couldn’t see that, not when she’d never cared for Cole.

  “Just think about it.”

  Jill rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back. Then, becoming the dutiful daughter, she handed both parents their usual drinks—a gin and tonic for her father and glass of red wine for her mother. “Why don’t we all go into the living room? There’s still a bit of time before Warren starts the grill.” Jill hooked an arm through her father’s. “Daddy, you’ll have to tell Warren all about your pilot days. He used to fly, too. Little planes, not jets like you.”

  “So what did you fly?” her father asked Warren.

  “Pipers mostly,” Warren said and swiftly took Jill’s hand in his. Staking his claim? “It’s been a while, though.”

  In the living room, with its dark beams, cream-colored walls and massive fieldstone fireplace, Jill plastered herself agains
t Warren on the butter-yellow leather love seat, hand still twined with his, resting her head on his shoulder and glowing as if she had a fever. Her par ents took the sofa, sitting as if they were preparing for some sort of battle.

  Barbara dragged a hand down part of Luci’s braid as Luci went by. “Lucinda, why don’t you take my appointment with the hairdresser’s on Monday? Susan’s very good.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but you might as well keep it.” Luci flicked her braid over her shoulder with the back of a hand and she sat in the snot-green armchair Jill called celadon. “This is easy to take care of.”

  “It’s an open offer. Let me know.”

  “It’d be a shame to cut such glorious hair.” Dom cupped a hand around the base of her neck, managing to both bubble heat through her pulse and calm the crater of anger her mother could stir up without even trying. How long since she’d had that kind of support? Too long. But that realization only served to sit her closer to the edge of panic. She couldn’t start depending on Dom. She couldn’t seek comfort in his touch.

  The whole situation was wrong. Tension shouldn’t wind through family parties, putting everyone on edge. Everyone should feel free to be themselves. Laughter should ring. Joy should waft in the air. It shouldn’t be this sitting on thin ice, waiting for something or someone to crack. And she just might be the one if Dom kept stroking the back of her neck. She had to go and regroup herself before facing the next round of social pleasantries.

  Luci grabbed her purse and excused herself. Now was as good a time to make an exit as any. “I’m going to go check on the boys. They need to get a bit of fresh air before the rain starts.”

  Barbara swallowed a sip of wine and placed the glass on a coaster. “They’ll get dirty.”

  That’s what little boys do, Mom. “They won’t sit still at the table if they don’t run off some energy.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Luci strode into the hallway, tears prickling her eyes. Why was she letting her mother get to her? She should have gotten over the need to please her mother after all these years of trying without success. She slipped into the library, across the hall from the stairs leading upstairs and closed the door behind her. She didn’t spare the well-stocked shelves a look. Most of the leather-bound books were for show, not substance.

  Luci headed for the desk J.J., Jill’s rotten ex, had chosen for mass rather than function. To give J.J. his due, he’d kept meticulous records. Luci reached for the bottom left-hand drawer where the financial files were stored. But the drawer didn’t move. Crouching, she found the reason—a shiny new lock. Sniffing, she pawed through the rest of the drawers, but located no key. Why did Jill have that drawer locked? That wasn’t like her. Shaking her head to clear the tears, Luci chose a thin blade from the pocketknife in her purse, then tried to finesse the lock.

  A moment later, the lock gave way with a satisfying click. But her victory was short-lived. An alarm shrilled from the drawer. Closing the thing only served to muffle the noise, not kill it. Pulse skittering madly, she pressed at buttons on the keypad poking up from the black metal plate covering the drawer’s inside.

  Jill came running in, followed by Dom. “What happened?”

  “I was looking for a tissue.” Bent over the drawer, Luci swatting at the tears of frustration that had spilled over. Tiredness, that’s all. It made her oversensitive. “You used to keep a big box in there and—”

  Jill punched in a few numbers on the keypad and the noise stopped. “I had a safe installed there.”

  “A safe?” Luci sniffed, silently telegraphing to Dom her failure to obtain the information he needed. His gaze conveyed more worry than disappointment.

  “Warren suggested that some of my jewelry was too valuable to stay exposed in my jewelry box,” Jill said, showing off her latest acquisition.

  So now Warren knew which pieces were worth taking and which weren’t and exactly where to find them. Probably knew the secret numbers to pop that baby open, too.

  “Tissues are here.” Jill swiveled to the credenza behind the desk and bent down to retrieve a box of tissues from one of the cupboards.

  “You okay?” Dom whispered, sending a shiver snaking down Luci’s spine. He cupped her elbow with one hand, the soothing heat of his touch bleeding into her. With the other, he dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. Her heart ached at the tenderness of his touch, at her unexpected yearning to lean into it. Fresh tears gathered and swam. She couldn’t do this. Dom might have forgiven her for what had happened to Cole, but she never could.

  “I’m fine,” she said, but to her horror, her voice warbled.

  Jill turned, tissue box in hand. “Oh, looks like you’ve got it under control.” She patted Luci’s arm with the tips of her red fingernails. “Don’t let Mom get to you.”

  Luci nodded. Guilt tugged at her conscience. She didn’t like lying to her sister. Since the boys’ births, half a year apart, they’d finally started to have a decent relationship. These lies would ruin it. But she wasn’t going to let some jerk without a moral compass take away Jill’s security. One Walden with a black view of the world was enough.

  Luci tried to maneuver out of Dom’s too-close-for-comfort hold, but he slid his hand around her waist, tripping a whole battalion of alarms as he went. Once his hand reached her hip, he pulled her closer so that they stood side by side with what, to Jill, must look like more than friendship. Luci couldn’t waltz out of his embrace without making a scene and having Jill wonder at her reaction, so she forced out a rough laugh and tried to get the show back on track. “J.J. would have a fit if he knew you’d gotten rid of his master filing system.”

  “I made my own.” A foxlike satisfaction crooked a smile on Jill’s face. She opened the credenza’s other cupboard door and showed off her multicolored file folders with their neat titles. “Blue for Jeff, red for me, green for accounts and yellow for maintenance.”

  “I’m impressed.” The scent of Dom’s cologne, like a fresh breeze, seemed to wrap around her and derail her thoughts right off their track.

  “I took a course on finance for the single woman,” Jill continued, oblivious to Luci’s plight.

  Too bad they hadn’t gone over how to protect herself from two-legged, charming frauds. Trying to gather her thoughts, Luci honked into Dom’s handkerchief. That proved too close to a caress when the same cool, clean scent that lingered on his skin imbued the linen.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Jill asked, her gaze ping-ponging from Dom to Luci.

  “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s okay,” Dom said and leaned his head against hers. Luci realized then that Dom was putting on a show meant to get Jill to leave them alone.

  “Okay, I’ll cover for you.” Jill nodded, eyes full of I’ve-got-a-secret pleasure. “I’ll leave you in Dom’s capable hands.”

  Jill’s sweetness only served to tighten the painful hand of guilt around Luci’s throat, the knot of unfaithfulness in her stomach.

  Luci spun out of Dom’s embrace and shook off her too-sharp awareness him. It butted against too many of her defenses. Defenses she needed to keep up to make it through the rest of her life without Cole. She crouched near the files and reached for the small notebook she kept in her purse. “You’d better get out there, so nobody wonders what’s going on in here.”

  “What are you afraid of, Luci?”

  She had to shut off her feelings, view her family, Dom, her betrayal of Jill’s privacy as if they were part of an operation. Her goal, as it had always been as part of the team, was to provide an extra layer of protection for the assault team. Be ready to kill, but avoid shooting at all cost.

  Discipline. Control. Restraint.

  This time, she couldn’t fail.

  She met Dom’s gaze of endless blue, pinned on a smile and told the biggest lie of all. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  Chapter Five

  “Your little lady sent me out with these salmon steaks.” Dom handed t
he glass dish to Warren who was scraping bits of hamburger meat from the grill. The grill was a killer with built-in granite sideboards and two sets of oak cabinets beneath. “When’ll you be ready for them?”

  Swanson pulled a rack with holes from a cupboard under the grill, examined it, then placed it on the hot grill. “Give me a minute to warm up the rack.”

  Dom glanced over his shoulder at the wall of windows behind him, hoping to catch a glimpse of Luci. He hadn’t liked the hard edge to her features when he’d left her in the library. Luci had never been that steely, not even in the field, or that fragile—until Cole’s death. With reluctance, he tipped one of the two bottles of beer he carried, offering one to Swanson. This con man was the reason for this whole exercise. The sooner he brought Swanson down, the sooner he could end Luci’s misery. “You look comfortable at the grill.”

  Swanson uncapped the bottle and pocketed the cap. “Old family tradition.”

  “Learned it from your father?” Dom parked himself across from Swanson and studied the overall pattern of the man’s body movements. He straightened from his tendency to slouch to match Swanson’s upright posture. Slowly, subtly, Dom started to mirror, raising his beer to his lips when Swanson did.

  Swanson took a long draft to hide the tension sliding his jaw back and forth. “You could say that.”

  A tender spot. What had happened to the boy to make him grit his teeth at the mention of his father? Dom let his gaze turn back to the house, thought he caught sight of Luci’s braid flashing through the dining room. Tender spots were weaknesses an adversary could use. Something he needed to remember. He’d gotten Luci’s help not to put her in danger’s way, but to get her sister and nephew out of it. “Nice family, the Waldens.”

  “How long have you known Luci?”

  Dom let Swanson think he was in control of the conversation. For now. “We went to school together for a spell. Haven’t seen her in years.” She’d sent him packing the day Brendan had been born and had made him promise he’d never try to see her again. The punch of the pang in his gut came as a surprise, considering how he’d failed both her and Cole. “Didn’t know what I was missing. Of course, she was married for a while.”