by Treva Harte
When he finally got the answer on the screen, he grunted once. Urgency was pulling at him to go faster yet, but he cleared the history, then the cookies and the temporary files. They'd check on what he had been looking at, of course. He was going to make sure it was going to be a lot more difficult for that to happen.
Even if they know how to trace all this it would cost them time. Not that he usually kept anything dangerous in his computer. He was well aware that Internet activity was usually traceable.
His information request popped up. Hmm. When Cassidy Majors had first come to work for him, he'd had her screened of course.
Her references had been enthusiastic about this Cassie's abilities. That was all he'd needed to know then.
Now he knew more. In fact he'd learned a good bit about Ms. Majors from his informant. She appeared law-abiding, healthy and had a better credit history than one might expect. She certainly hadn't lied about having someone named Cassidy for a father.
Who her father was had made him raise his eyebrows a bit, but there was nothing wrong with having a wealthy father.
And he knew where she lived. Now that he had erased his quick message, he was reasonably sure he would be the only one to locate her.
Wynn looked outside. Ah, almost dusk. The human wolves after him probably liked the dark. But so did he. So did he.
He looked around his house with a sudden regret. What a pity. The antiques he began collecting years ago, only to put in storage, had finally had a place to be displayed. As time went on, somehow he'd found himself buying more things that seemed to go with the house.
Wynn stared at the huge gilded mirror he had placed in the living room. That would be incredibly difficult to move and almost impossible to hang anywhere but in a room like this. What had he been thinking? He didn't even own the house.
But this place had been part of his whole grand scheme to finally turn completely respectable. Respectable? No, he wanted more than that. He was going to be important.
And the house had become something more. Wynn lightly touched the spines of some battered books in the built-in bookcase. They weren't expensive. He'd just enjoyed having them around.
Now that he was leaving, he could admit this house was more than a symbol of what he wanted to become. Oh, bloody hell. He could find other houses. Now that he'd figured out how to create a home, it couldn't be that hard to make another.
Importance, acceptance, permanence were all still close enough for him to see and obtain once he took care of his immediate problems. Wynn turned off the light in the living room and then moved to the kitchen, flicked on more lights, and turned on the stereo in the library. Then he returned to the dark living room and efficiently pushed up the window and slit the screen with his pocketknife. He could almost hear the sounds of quiet feet drawing closer. Time to go.
Bag in hand, he slid himself outside and flattened himself against the wall behind the shrubbery. Nothing yet. He saw a car drive by. The car's headlights went out. Hmmm. A strange car was parking not far from his house. No one ever did that. He lived on the end of a cul-de-sac.
Now it could be some teenagers giving each other a very long good-night kiss but somehow he doubted it.
He began to move. He was unhurried, but every move was calculated and quiet. Behind him the house waited, lights on, faint music coming from the back. Everything there looked welcoming.
Wynn fled that light and noise, picking the densest shrubbery, the darkest passage away from the house. A car door clicked shut, quietly, as he got near the street. While he waited in the shadows, he watched the two people walk toward his house.
He could tell at least one had a holstered gun which hung awkwardly under the man's jacket. Probably the other one had a weapon as well but was better at concealing his weapon.
Only two goons? They'd underestimated him again. As they headed for his house, Wynn walked out from the brush and then continued, unhurriedly, down the street.
He had a plan. He always had a plan. When you had the gift, a plan, and plenty of cash, everything was possible.
He was already far enough away that he wasn't sure whether he heard the sound of breaking glass or imagined it. But he had already made his good-byes to the house. What happened next there was simply what was going to happen. Wynn concentrated on the future.
The first thing he had to do was find a way to get to that flaky woman without anyone following him. He'd been getting faint distress signals from her. She must be a good link.
Of course she also might be one of the enemy. He hadn't picked up on any danger of that in her thoughts but he couldn't deny she had been rooting through his trash. That hadn't been just cleaning.
Why did she need to do that? What did she want to find out about him? He thought about what he had just learned from her from the computer. She didn't seem dangerous. Whatever had made her look at his trash probably was innocent enough.
Nonsense.
She was trouble. Wynn wasn't sure what kind of trouble she was, but he absolutely knew in his gut that she was. Not just his gut told him. His cock reminded him that she made him as hard as that faceless woman in his erotic dream.
Bloody hell, Cassie wasn't even his type but he kept imagining her in all kinds of fascinating positions, doing all kinds of fascinating, erotic things...when she wasn't driving him insane with some maddening bit of illogic that ran through her head or into her conversation. All of that added up to trouble ahead.
Unfortunately she was trouble that he had to deal with. Soon. He began to walk just a little faster.
Chapter Three
Cassie looked at the telephone. Emily still hadn't called. After all these years Cassie had finally neglected her last girlfriend long enough. Emily wasn't going to call.
Cassie realized she was pacing again.
"I can't wait any more," Cassie finally muttered. She dialed a second number.
Tash would be there. She was always around when Cassie wasn't sure she wanted Tash to be.
"Tash? Hiya. I need to ask a favor." Cassie had worked on her lines for a while.
But Cassie couldn't continue because Tash didn't need to work on lines. She always had plenty to say and was more than willing to say it.
"Darling, how fortunate it is that you called."
Cassie listened, envisioning the woman on the other end of the phone.
Tash was about as short as Cassie was and her mom had been. Dad had a weakness for petite women. But that was where Tash's resemblance to Cassie's mom ended. Tash had fluttering eyelashes and a soft voice and hair that wisped around a heart-shaped face. If a person didn't know her, that hapless person would swear she looked harmless and sweet. Once you did know her, you realized she was about as harmless as a hungry piranha.
"I'm so glad you bothered to contact us, dear. What a relief! I was sure you had forgotten your brother's birthday celebration is going on tonight."
"Oh yeah, sure. Hank's birthday. Tonight?" Cassie tried to keep the squeak of dismay out of her voice. "I didn't realize it was tonight!"
Tash's voice grew more firm.
"But you'll be there. Of course. I'm sure you don't have any other plans."
Tash knew Cassie and her lack of a social life only too well.
"Yeah. Of course I'll show up. Why would I miss Hank's twenty first? I know how big a deal that must be to everyone. But, listen, I did want to ask—"
The phone clicked off. Tasha wasn't interested in questions.
Cassie put her phone down hard.
She should have known this wasn't going to be easy. If she hadn't called, she could have gone on about her own business. Tash would never have called her to remind Cassie about the party—her stepmother would have preferred to point out to Dad how flighty and forgetful Cassie was.
Tash'd told her about the family get-together a month ago, and Cassie had made a note of the date on the calendar. Then Cassie'd—well, sort of deliberately—forgotten about the whole thing.
She
didn't want to remember family obligations and her family had gotten used to her sometimes ducking out of them. Due to her ill-fated call, now Cassie had to dress up and visit the family and act happy about her half-brother's birthday.
Hank was going to graduate from business school in the next year or so, go off and make a zillion dollars and never need to worry about anything in his life. Cassie'd been there and done that for awhile. No big deal. He'd probably be a lot better at that life than she'd been.
But just because it was his birthday she had to get him a present to celebrate. What did you get the guy who was about to get everything?
And, after all that effort, then she still had to wheedle some information about psychiatrists out of Tash. What a long evening this would be.
Cassie sighed. No matter how she tried—and she had tried, even though her family might not realize that—she would never fit in with them. They were always nothing but trouble for her.
But they were trouble that she had to deal with tonight.
* * * * *
"Darling, we're so pleased you're here. A little surprised you remembered us, but pleased." Tash's smile was frighteningly pleasant. "I'm sorry you didn't have time to dress before you ended work."
Cassie smiled back. Both of them knew what her cleaning wardrobe looked like and both of them knew this wasn't it. Cassie was glad she'd worn her jeans and Gap knit shirt. They were her best jeans, the type she'd wear to any party—if she went to parties—but Tash wouldn't care about that.
Cassie figured her ensemble was just offensive enough to irritate Tasha, but not so outrageous that Tash would take action. Cassie still remembered her teenaged years when Tash would make her go change outfits. Cassie wasn't sure what would happen now that she was an adult.
Tash, of course, was in some kind of designer pants suit that sparkled subtly. Sequins would have been too tacky, but Tash knew how to make an appearance.
"Hey there, Hank." Cassie kissed her younger brother on the cheek.
They smiled a little tentatively at each other. There was nothing terribly wrong with Hank. There just wasn't anything particularly compelling about him, either.
"Hey, Cass."
That was it for her conversation with Hank.
Cassie gave Tash a quick peck on the cheek and then looked consideringly at her father. She never knew quite how to greet him. They settled for their usual half hand-shake, half-hug.
"How's business, Cassie?" Her father always emphasized that she ran a business. He was less likely to tell people it was a cleaning service.
"Good, Dad. How's yours?"
"Booming. Keeping me busy."
Cassie tried to think of more clichés to help her dad out but lost interest in the conversation. That was her dad's family. A mix of boredom with a dash of unpleasantness. Her father might've made Natasha accept Cassie as a family member but he'd never made Tash like it.
Still, if not for Tash throwing in a few barbs now and then, Cassie might fall asleep. She would've certainly been able to do the family get-together thing by rote. Maybe Cassie should be grateful to Tash.
Naaaw.
"Gotcha a present." Cassie knew what was expected next and passed on a wrapped present to Hank.
She wondered what the family would've made of some of the less than legal things Cassie had come up with to hand to Hank. Hank was a challenge. She always gave Dad Scotch. Tash got perfume. Usually Chanel. Hank hadn't quite fit into the right pattern yet.
"Hey, thanks."
Hank looked at the silk tie Cassie'd bought.
"Thought it would help for your entrance into the business world," Cassie said.
If she'd had a passing thought about how impressive a certain client of hers looked in his power ties, she kept it to herself. As it was, she thought she might've hit on the perfect annual present for Hank. Impersonal but inoffensive. That was about the best she could hope for with her family.
Things dragged on until dinner. Cassie sat, staring at the family silver. Well, Tash called it the family silver. Once, after Cassie had told her real mother about the expensive silverware, Mom had laughed and said the Bill Cassidy she'd dated hadn't inherited enough money for paper plates, much less silver.
There was a pause in the conversation. Cassie nerved herself. Now.
"Tash, I have something to ask. Something sort of personal. Well, not personal."
She'd rehearsed this, damn it! But with three people staring at her she was getting rattled.
"Yes, dear?"
"I need to know the name of a psychiatrist. It's for Ned." Why, oh why, had she thought Ned's idea was a good one? She could've looked up a shrink in the Yellow Pages. Had someone check one out on the Internet. Anything but this.
"Ned needs a psychiatrist?"
"Yeah. Well, you know Ned."
"Oh yes." And Tash didn't care for Ned at all.
"He's been hearing things. Voices."
"Good God, that sounds like he could be dangerous!" Bill Cassidy leaned forward. "Do you still let him in your house?"
"Yes, of course. He wouldn't hurt anyone. They're just...voices. Sort of." Cassie could feel an ache develop in the back of her skull. "Anyhow, I wondered if you could recommend a specialist for him. I told him I'd arrange and pay for it."
Oh God. Why would Tash raise a little finger to help Ned, of all people? Cassie realized she should've thought this out a lot more carefully. To start with, if Ned thought a plan up, it was doomed to failure.
But Tash was watching at her with an odd look. An almost pitying, concerned look.
"Of course. I know just the woman. She's very good." Tash's voice was gentle. "You can have every confidence in her, Cassie."
This was playing all wrong.
Why was Tash's voice gentle? Too late, Cassie knew that Tash hadn't been fooled. Tash was awfully hard to fool at the best of times and this wasn't Cassie's best time.
Tash knew. Tash knew what had happened before and she knew it was happening again.
"I'll get her number and call you first thing tomorrow. Don't worry, dear. I'll arrange it all." Tash gave her a pat on the hand.
"I can take care of things." Cassie got the words out through her gritted teeth.
Cassie forced herself not to snatch her hand away. Tash was being nice.
No. Tash was daring to feel sorry for her again. Cassie much preferred the hostile relationship they'd built up again after the last time Tash had felt sorry for her. Cassie would rather feel like the rebel daughter she'd been since her teens than the pitiful daughter she'd been for a while. She hated being the Cassie who needed Tash and Daddy's help and support. She hated realizing that she'd gone back to running to someone else to solve the problem. She'd wanted someone else to tell her what to do after all these years of refusing to let anyone do that.
Cassie had a distinct desire to go bite her stepmother and her patting hand. And then slug Ned for getting her into this.
And then kick herself for being stupid enough to walk into this without thinking things through.
* * * * *
"Cassie?"
"You came!" Cassie stared at the figure standing by the door. "Have you been waiting long? I was at Dad's."
"Not too long. I thought about calling you back, but then the kids were driving me crazy and finally I got them out of the house and I thought you sounded like you could use a visit. I came over before I chickened out." Emily sounded hesitant but friendly. She sounded almost like the old Emily.
"I'm really glad. I think I've messed up again. You always cleaned up afterwards for me. Oh, come in, silly. Don't hang out by the door. I'll fix us a drink." Cassie was pleased with the last inspired sentence.
She hadn't had a friend over for drinks in ages. Maybe since Emily last came over. How long ago had that been?
"What do you have to drink?"
"Nothing."
Emily laughed.
"I figured. I stopped at the store on the way. Gin and tonic, Cass? You do have
glasses, I hope?" Emily held up the bottles and came through the screen door.
"Yeah. Sit down and let's talk." Cassie felt a sudden sense of happiness come over her.
Emily was back. Maybe things weren't as bad as Cassie thought.
Cassie poured gin and tonic.
* * * * *
"You should've waited," Emily told her. "You never could lie to Tash. I always had to come up with how to deal with her. Remember?"
Cassie bit her lip. She recalled some of the ways Emily had managed to deal with Tash. And both Dad and Tash had thought Emily was a good influence on Cassie. They still did, deluded creatures.
"Thanks, Em. So where were you when I screwed up this particular time?" Cassie kept staring at her buddy as if Emily wasn't real.
Maybe Em wasn't real. She didn't look the same. Or maybe she did. She looked a lot closer to the Emily that Cassie remembered from college. But the last Emily had been Mom and Wife Emily. Emily didn't resemble that slightly matronly, carefully made up and wardrobe co-ordinate Emily.
"By the way, you look good, Emily. You've lost weight."
"Cassie! The last time you saw me I was pregnant with twins and Jill was under a year old. Of course I weighed more!" Emily sniffed and then paused. "Not eating after Jim gave me the Big Announcement worked better than Weight Watchers, though, for dropping the pounds. It took me weeks before I could believe he meant good-bye when he said it."
"Oh, damn, Emily, here I am running off my mouth and you're telling me you and Jim split up? You were so h..." Cassie thought about her next word. "...well, not happy maybe, but so settled. Yeah. The two of you were settled. I thought you were going to be married forever and ever."
"Me, too. But the idea scared Jim. Four kids really scared him." Emily's smile trembled at the ends. "Of course now we have joint custody and he gets all four of them to deal with every other weekend and on the holidays. That's more than he did when he was married to me. Serves him right."
"Bastard," Cassie said.
"And you're worried you're crazy? You make perfect sense to me!"