by S. R. Grey
“She didn’t leave,” J.T. said quietly as Adam was turning away.
He spun back around. “Is that a confession, O’Brien?”
“Fuck you!” J.T. shouted, and Nate tightened his grip on him. “You know I didn’t kill her.”
“Do I?” Adam asked.
His stance, expression—just everything—was eerily calm. J.T. must have noticed the same thing because he said nothing more. Nate pulled him up and out the door.
With both men gone, Adam rushed over to where I sat on the floor, legs pulled up to my chest with my arms wrapped tightly around them.
He knelt down in front of me. “Are you OK, Maddy? Do you want me to fly you to the hospital? I can—”
“Adam,” I interrupted. “I don’t need to go to a hospital. I’ll be fine, I’m just a little shaken up.”
He took my face in his hands, scanning for any signs of harm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? When I was coming in, I saw him slam you back into the counter.” I winced, suddenly cognizant of a dull aching across my lower back.
“Maddy?” Adam asked. “Where does it hurt?”
“My back. But it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Adam touched the hem at the back of my shirt. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Go ahead,” I whispered.
Adam scooted behind me and lifted up the back of my shirt, just enough to see what kind of damage had been inflicted. “Fucking J.T.,” he muttered under his breath.
“How bad does it look?” I asked, worried since Adam’s hand seemed to be frozen in place.
He sighed. “There’s some bruising, but that’s the worst of it.” He lowered my shirt back into place. “It still makes me wish I’d fucked him up more than I did. He had no right touching you, let alone hurting you.”
I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his. “You saved me, Adam,” I said softly. “If you hadn’t come in…”
I shuddered at the thought of all that could have happened, and Adam put his arms around me, carefully avoiding the bruised part of my back. I snaked my arms around his neck, whispering, “Thank you.”
He really had saved me.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, Maddy,” Adam said softly. “That is, if you’ll let me.”
I held onto this man I was falling for, his embrace comforting me. I believed his words, but I hadn’t forgotten my earlier resolution. I needed to steel myself and ask him for the truth. I needed to know what Chelsea had been holding over him. I wanted Adam to protect me—and he had tonight—but I couldn’t trust him completely. Not until he trusted me enough to share this big secret. I mean, now that Chelsea was gone, was it even still relevant?
“Adam, I need to, uh, ask you…something,” I said in a tiny voice.
He pulled back, his expression curious, “Yeah?”
“Uhh…” I hesitated.
Asking Adam a question of that magnitude—while staring into his striking blue eyes—was not a simple thing to do.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. OK, here goes. “Was there, uh, somethin—”
Just as I was getting to the question everybody seemed to want an answer to, I heard the café door open. I opened my eyes and looked up.
And then I groaned in exasperation, because I realized I wouldn’t be asking my question. At least not anytime soon.
Chapter 12
Helena scanned the mess that was her café. Broken chairs, overturned tables, shattered glass littering the floor, blood and whiskey spilled. “My God,” she uttered. “What happened in here?”
Her eyes flickered our way as Adam straightened and helped me to my feet. “J.T. O’Brien is what happened here, Helena. He showed up drunk.”
Understanding seemed to dawn on Helena; she shook her head and sighed. “Are you two OK?” she asked quietly.
Before we could answer, the café door swung wide. Nate had returned from dropping J.T. off at Max’s house. So after we were seated, the three of us took turns giving Helena a detailed account of the events that had transpired in her absence. I filled in the blanks in the timeline, explaining what had happened from the time Trina and Helena had left up until Adam and Nate’s well-timed arrival to the café.
I didn’t miss the number of times Adam shifted irritably, blue eyes flashing in ire, as he listened to the vivid details of J.T.’s unprovoked attack. When the story was finished, Helena pulled me into a tight hug. And then she strongly encouraged me to press charges against J.T.
But I was torn on what to do. On one hand, nothing too terrible had occurred, thanks to Adam’s intervention. But on the other hand, it frightened me to envision all that could have happened. And I knew J.T. should have to face the full repercussions of his criminal behavior.
“What happened to the sweet guy I once knew? We were actually friends at one time,” I lamented, still in disbelief over the actions of a J.T. I no longer recognized.
Helena voiced what I already knew in my heart. “Drugs and alcohol have a way of changing people, Maddy. And it’s never for the better.”
Nate proceeded to tell me that if I pressed charges, J.T. would then be forced to enter a Harbour Falls mandatory drug and alcohol dependency rehabilitation—in lieu of doing any time—since he was already on probation for drug charges in the past. “It’ll actually be the best thing for him.” Nate said.
When I asked about the specifics, he explained that it would be a six-week program, with two weeks of inpatient therapy and four weeks of outpatient support. It sounded like it would, at least, be a starting point for J.T. to get some help.
“Do I have to go over to Harbour Falls to press charges?” I asked. Fade Island and Cove Beach both fell under the jurisdiction of Harbour Falls.
Adam cleared his throat. “No, actually Max can take your statement. He’s actually an officer with the Harbour Falls PD.”
This was news, though I couldn’t say I was completely surprised by the admission. After thinking it over for a few more minutes, I decided to press charges. J.T.’s problems were serious, and I had to face the fact that he could have very easily been the one behind Chelsea’s disappearance. His fury had been truly terrifying. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that level of rage leading to something like—I hated to admit it—murder.
I shuddered as we all rose, and in response Adam put his arm around me. Before we left the café, he told Nate to make the necessary arrangements for me to meet with Max in the morning. I broke in, saying I didn’t want to go alone to Max’s bungalow to enter my statement. Max and I had made amends, but I didn’t really care to show up at his home all by myself. Needless to say, I was relieved when Adam said he’d go with me.
Stepping out into the cold night air, Adam pulled me close as he led us to his Porsche. “Maddy?” he questioned when I hesitated on the sidewalk.
“What about my car?” I nodded to the Lexus parked in front of his car.
“Don’t worry, I can take you down to the dock after you meet with Max, and then Trina and I can pick up your car sometime tomorrow. We’ll drop it off at your cottage while you’re with your dad.”
Oh shit! My dad! I’d forgotten all about my plans to visit with him Sunday. I’d mentioned it in passing to Adam the night before, and thank goodness I had. Or I’d have ended up inadvertently blowing off my poor father. Of course Adam had no clue I had no plans to mention his name to the mayor. My dad was still under the impression I was staying away from “that Ward guy,” as he had requested. However, I suspected that once my father found out the details of what had happened at the café—and he surely would—there was little doubt in my mind that he’d be more concerned with me staying away from J.T. O’Brien.
Ugh! Statement in the morning, my dad in the afternoon. All this when all I really wanted to do was just spend some time alone with Adam. After all, I needed to ask him about the blackmail allegations. With that in mind, and not really caring to spend the night alone at my isolated cottage after the café incident, I blurted out, �
�Will you stay with me tonight?”
Adam was opening the passenger door for me and shot me a curious sideways glance. I quickly amended, “Oh stop. I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I got into the car, and once Adam was seated, he said, “Why don’t we stay at my place. You can sleep in my bedroom.” I raised my eyebrows, and he threw my words back at me mockingly, “Oh stop, Maddy.”
Happy to be laughing so soon after what had happened, I smacked his leg playfully. “Smartass,” I muttered.
Adam started the car and said, “Seriously, you can have my room. I’ll sleep in one of the guestrooms.”
I would’ve been content with a guestroom but didn’t protest. Besides, I was too preoccupied wondering how one casually brought up the subject of blackmail.
We neared my cottage, and Adam asked if I wanted to stop. I didn’t have anything to sleep in, no toothbrush, nothing really, so I said yes. Adam waited in the car, and I ran inside and threw some essentials into an overnight bag. I rushed back out to the car, and we started up to Adam’s place.
I thought about asking my big question but decided to wait until we were settled in at his house to broach the tricky blackmail subject. I could wait a while longer, but tonight was definitely going to be the night. I had to find out exactly what Chelsea had been holding over him.
When we entered the spacious foyer at Adam’s place, the first thing I heard was Trina’s voice lilting from down a long hallway to the right. She sounded like she was on the phone with someone. Adam explained that she was in his study and probably talking to Walker. I hastily whispered that I’d rather not have to recount the café incident for the second time in less than an hour. He nodded understandingly, and we hurried up the long, curving staircase, where he led me down another hallway to his bedroom suite.
The large, high-ceilinged bedroom resonated with the same masculine style as the living room. But while the living room had boasted gleaming hardwood floors and Persian rugs, this room was blanketed in plush carpeting that was as white as freshly fallen snow.
Stepping over the threshold, my feet sunk into the heavenly pile. To my right there was a massive, black marble fireplace, complete with a cozy sitting area. The entire far wall was made up of ceiling-to-floor windows with long, slate-gray curtains that were drawn for the night. A bed, much larger than a king-sized, spanned half the distance down the wall across from the fireplace. It was covered in luxurious-looking black and gray bedding and far too many pillows to count. The only bright colors in the room were contained in the abstract art on the walls.
“Um, is there a bathroom?” I asked, suddenly anxious to get out of clothes that reeked of whiskey.
“Over there.” Adam pointed to a door just beyond the fireplace.
I hoisted my overnight bag up higher on my shoulder and went into the bathroom. Flipping the light switch on, I closed the door and dropped my bag to the floor.
Wow, now this is a bathroom, I thought as I strolled around the spacious room. A huge walk-in shower, hexagon-shaped and sporting multiples nozzles, took up one side of the room. And in a recessed area, under a set of small, frosted windows; a glossy, black porcelain tub—equipped with whirlpool jets, no less—sat sunken into the floor. Wow, Adam sure liked his amenities.
There was an array of shampoos and body washes along the ledge at the back of the tub. I had to smile to myself because, surely, Trina had put those items there. I just could not picture Adam mulling over scented body washes nor shampoos that promised “thick, luxurious” hair.
Turning away from the tub, I faced a wall of mirrors. I unbuttoned my ruined shirt and let it fall to the floor. Turning my back to the mirror, I craned my neck to see the damage J.T. had wrought. A row of yellowing, bluish-black bruises marred my lower back. Ouch! Although, as bad as it looked, there didn’t appear to be any major swelling, and the aching had mostly subsided. Sighing, I finished undressing. After washing up some and brushing my teeth, I put on the hot pink cami and black silk shorts I’d brought from home.
Tentatively I stepped back into the bedroom. Adam was standing by the bed, and he looked like he had freshened up as well. In fact, he looked amazing. He wore a pair of navy pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips and absolutely nothing else. Oh my.
No doubt sensing my ogling, Adam looked up, blue eyes alight. “Maddy.” An ebony lock of hair fell across his forehead, and he raked it back into place. “I brought up some ice” —he held up a bag that was loosely wrapped in a dark hand towel— “for your back.”
My feet seemed to be stuck in place, and my thoughts were muddled. Yeah, Adam—half-naked and unwittingly oozing sex appeal—had that effect.
“Maddy?” he questioned, concern streaking across his features. “Is something wrong?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, getting a grip and making my way across the room. “I was just lost in thought.”
I took a seat on the edge of the bed, next to where Adam stood. It was then that I noticed abrasions on the knuckles of his right hand. Marks he’d received from defending me.
Adam adjusted the hand towel around the ice pack and sat down next to me. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to my back. I nodded, and Adam lifted the back hem of my cami, just high enough to apply the ice.
Wincing, more from the cold than the pain, I said, “I saw your hand, Adam. You should get some ice for that too.”
“I’m fine,” he replied. “O’Brien deserved worse than I gave him for what he did to you.”
Still coming to terms with the fact that someone who used to be one of my closest friends had done something so terrible, I asked softly, “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I paused and looked down. “Pressing charges, that is.”
Adam nudged my chin. “Yes, I do,” he said as our eyes met.
“J.T. will get the help he needs this way,” I murmured, unconvinced even as I said it.
Adam breathed in deeply and then exhaled a long sigh. “He needs more help than what some half-assed, overcrowded Harbour Falls facility can offer. But let’s just hope it sticks this time.”
Well, it was pretty clear Adam didn’t expect J.T. to get any better. With all the bad blood between them, it didn’t surprise me. “You knew, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. “About J.T. and Chelsea, I mean. You knew when they started seeing each other? Again, after the engagement.”
I glanced over to find Adam staring at me intently, his body tense. “Yes,” he said, “I knew.”
“When did you find out?”
He raked his free hand through his hair and over his face, while the hand holding the ice bag shifted. “I found out shortly after it started back up. I knew every time they saw each other. Every time, Maddy, right up until the end.”
I reached back and pulled the ice out of his hand. After placing it on the bedside table, I turned so we were facing one another. “How did you know so much?” I asked, my voice hardly more than a whisper.
Adam hesitated, his expression dark, and then said, “Suffice it to say, I have my ways.”
“Did you know about the other…men?” My voice weakened on the last word, and then I whispered, “And the drugs?”
Our eyes locked, his full of a fury that spoke of betrayal. “Yes, I knew,” he said curtly, his jaw tensing. “It took awhile, but eventually I was made aware of all those things.”
This was it. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. There’d never be a more perfect time to ask. Spurred on by all he’d shared so far, I steeled myself, sat up straighter. “Why were you still going to marry her? You knew all those things, yet you got engaged. You were still going to go through with the wedding. Why, Adam, why?”
Adam shifted away, rubbing his hands over his face once more. Although this time they remained over his face. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled, his words muffled.
I took a deep breath. “She had something on you, didn’t she? I hate to ask, Adam, but I have to know.” I paused, the silence deafening. “Was Chelsea bl
ackmailing you?”
He dropped his hands listlessly to his sides and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I was wondering when this was going to come up,” he said, bitterness creeping into his tone.
Time ticked away slowly, Adam silent as he continued to stare up at the blank ceiling.
“Adam?” I said at last, my voice shaky. “Are you going to say something?”
He sat up abruptly and fisted one of the many pillows on the bed. With his blue eyes stormier than I’d ever seen, he leaned forward and held my gaze. “Why, Madeleine, would I tell you something that I definitely do not want to see exploited in some book?”
His harsh words cut to the quick. “I’d never publish anything like that!” I protested loudly.
Adam laughed derisively. “Really, Maddy?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the sole reason for you even being here?”
It was, but it was no longer the only reason. Yes, I was here to research the mystery so I could write my next novel. But now that I was involved with Adam, I knew adjustments would have to be made. I wouldn’t be able to just recklessly recount everything I’d discovered. After all, I was starting to care for some of these Harbour Falls Mystery players. Especially one in particular…and it hurt to realize he trusted me so little. Because, really, all he’d told me up to this point were things I already either knew or suspected.
“I’d never write anything that would end up hurting you,” I said quietly, biting down on my lip and looking away.
My words were true. I had no intention of divulging secrets that could destroy him. Maybe I’d have to reconsider, go back to writing a work of fiction. I could use the information I’d obtained but change the details, fictionalize it. After all, I was a fiction writer.
Adam suddenly cupped my chin, urging me to meet his eyes. Deep, deep blue, the darkest blue, tormented. Did he want to tell me? What was holding him back?