Sins That Haunt

by Lucy Farago

  “I wish I know. Frederick make him go away. We would have helped.”

  Hearing Mr. Polanski’s name again, Shannon wanted to run. She was the reason Mrs. P didn’t have her Frederick. That man had been as strong as an ox, had even trained for the Polish Olympic decathlon team. He should have lived forever.

  “My father wasn’t the type of man you messed with. But that’s in the past,” she added, just in case Mrs. P kept probing for answers. “Enough about that. How have you been?”

  “Very well, thank you. I do my kitchen last summer. You come by and see it.”

  Aw, she’d loved that kitchen, with its sixties avocado cupboards and old pine floors. It was homey and smelled like the thousands of cakes Mrs. P liked to bake. “If I have time. I’m not here long.” It wasn’t a lie, but she didn’t want to tell her she was planning to leave tonight. She’d already been chastised once for what she’d done in the past; she couldn’t allow Mrs. P to know she planned to do it again.

  “Oh, please make time. You know Agie had baby last year. A boy, Frederick, after her father. Come, I show you pictures.”

  That was another kid who would never know his grandfather. Her throat tightened and she had to swallow hard to be able to speak. “Okay,” she said, resigning herself to the fact that she’d have to spend another night in Tweedsmuir. “Tomorrow. I have to go get ready now.”

  “Yes, go, go. Look pretty for Noah. I see you tomorrow?” she asked, making sure Shannon would show up.

  “Tomorrow.” She’d have to find out exactly what time her flight left. “I’m not sure what time, though.”

  “As long as I see you.”

  Shannon bent down and kissed Mrs. P’s pillow-soft cheek. She gave her one last hug, then went right inside, thankful when she didn’t bump into anyone. She’d give herself five minutes and then she’d shower and compose herself for dinner with Noah and the people who were no better, if not worse, than JJ. She sat on the small window seat in her room, curled her knees up to her chin, and cried.

  Chapter Nine

  Noah waited patiently for Shannon. He’d texted her twenty minutes earlier and given her his ETA. They’d pick Damon up on the way. She’d asked that he wait for her in the car, so here he sat. He’d told her to dress business casual, wanting to give the cartel the impression that she was a professional, just as she’d pitched herself over the phone. They didn’t want them to think JJ’s kid was a loser like her father. If she told them she had what they wanted, they needed to take her seriously and at her word. Being a lawyer, Shannon would know how to achieve that impression with the right clothes.

  When she finally came out of the boardinghouse, he’d expected to see her in the black slacks and short matching jacking that had been packed for her, which she was indeed wearing. What he hadn’t expected was the low-cut, cream-colored silk tank she’d paired it with. He’d known she had beautiful breasts, but he was too distracted by the sight of them to realize he hadn’t gotten out of the car to open the door for her until she slid into the seat next to him. To top it off she’d painted her lips a scarlet red. Against her pale complexion it was sexy as hell.

  “So,” she said, “Am I Starsky or Hutch?” She tucked a blond lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Are those real?” he asked, meaning the megawatt diamonds he spotted on her ears.

  Shannon’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”

  “The diamonds; are they real?”

  “I don’t wear knockoff or imitation anything. I work too hard for that. I went to court yesterday and had these tucked away in my purse. The courtroom is no place for anything that screams you make too much money when you’re suing someone.”

  She had sense enough for that, and yet she showed up looking like … He started the car while he considered whether to drive off or make her go upstairs to change. He changed the radio station to country, knowing Shannon preferred it, and made himself look at his reaction rationally. Was he upset because her appearance could affect the meeting? Or something else? And if it was something else, he needed to get over it. “Would you mind, please, before we leave, because maybe I’m missing something here. I mean, I probably am missing something. So I don’t come across as … I don’t know. I just don’t—”

  “Out with it,” she said, clearly having lost her patience with his rambling.

  He told himself not to look, which he ignored and did anyway. “That top. It’s a little revealing, don’t you think? I can see the lace camisole you have beneath it.”

  She glanced down at herself and reacted like she hadn’t noticed. “It’s not a camisole. It’s my bra. And what the hell do you care?”

  Damn it. He didn’t want her to think he’d mentioned it because he was behaving possessively. He wasn’t. At least he didn’t think he was. Who was he to say he’d have said anything if she were another woman going with him to meet a drug cartel? But this was his case and he had every right to consider their reaction to her … breasts. “Look, this isn’t some macho thing. If you don’t wear bling to court, why wear something sexy now?”

  “Sexy? This isn’t sexy,” she said.

  “A guy would have to be dead not to be distracted by it, and even then he might jump out of his grave for a better look.”

  “That’s a tad extreme.” She buttoned the jacket. It effectively draped the silk top to cover most of her breasts. If she’d been a smaller woman, you wouldn’t have seen anything. “Better?” She motioned to the front of the jacket.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “You want me to use really big words so they won’t think I’m some dumb blonde?”

  “I want you to leave your sarcasm here. We’ll try to control the conversation as much as possible.” He didn’t want Shannon in any danger. “Damon is a really good bullshitter. He has this knack for—” His mind went blank.

  It was an old trick, and yet she’d completely caught him off guard when she’d undone the button on her jacket while she remained focused on what he was and now wasn’t saying.

  “He has this knack … ?” she repeated.

  “Nice,” he said, not impressed that her stunt had worked on him. He put the car in drive. “But these guys aren’t idiots.”

  He heard the click of her seat belt. “Are you?”

  “You and I have a history. Of course I’m going to look.”

  “You said a guy would have to be dead, remember?”

  “I’m just saying it might not have the effect you want. These guys are serious players.”

  “What I want is to have a few seconds to my advantage in case I need it. That’s it.”

  “Have you tried that before?” Was she going around Vegas flashing her cleavage to take advantage of poor schmucks?

  “Why are you pissed?”

  “I’m not pissed. Why would I be pissed? I’m not pissed.”

  “Okay, but if you grip that steering wheel any tighter your hands are going to go numb.”

  He flexed his fingers, then adjusted his grip. “I’m not pissed,” he repeated.

  “Yes, that’s what you said. So, why the Capital Grille?”

  “It’s a Sunday night. It should be quiet, but we chose high-end to ensure a few waiters will cater to our table.”

  “Your people?”

  “Local cops. They’ll be wired as will Damon and any empty table in the restaurant, just in case they arrive first. We don’t want them to suspect a setup.”

  “But you chose the restaurant. Won’t that be suspicious?”

  “No; JJ chose. The moron had expensive tastes. We’re out-of-towners who aren’t supposed to know Boston. He inferred the restaurant would impress us. These people are also new to Boston so they allowed him to decide on an appropriate location.”

  “So my being from Vegas fit nicely into your setup.”

  “We couldn’t have planned it better ourselves.”

  “Yay for me,” she said, blowing out a breath. “Any news on who killed JJ?”


  “No. The department is letting the locals try to figure it out. We’re there to assist if needed.”

  “And if it turns out the people we’re meeting killed him.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Can you say for certain they didn’t?”

  He thought about it; it wasn’t likely, nor was it a certainty. “No.”

  “Then I’d have to be an idiot not to be worried.”

  “Shannon, I … we won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Let’s hope not. Then you’d really owe me.”

  He smiled. “This is like the time you and Maggie made me buy fries because I was ten minutes late picking you up from the quarry.”

  “We were wet and it was cold. You froze our butts off.”

  “I was doing you a favor. You woke me up out of bed. What kind of dummies swim with their clothes on at midnight?”

  “It was a dare. Unplanned.”

  “And stupid.”

  “Yeah, that’s Maggie. Do first, think later.”

  “You two still close?” He’d envied their relationship, their loyalty to each other.

  “Like two peas. But now I have to share her.”

  “You okay with that?” He turned down the radio so they could talk.

  “Absolutely. He’s good to her, and no one deserves to be happy more than Maggie.”

  What did Shannon think about Maggie’s new husband? “How well do you know Christian Beck?”

  “Enough that no pimp will get within ten feet of her, and if they do, they’ll regret it. I did my homework on the guy before things got too serious between them.”

  He doubted she’d have found anything of real significance on Beck that his boss, Ryan Sheppard, hadn’t leaked to the media. His units were hired to search and recover at any cost. The public was only allowed to see them as any other high-end private investigation firm. “And what did you discover?”

  “That he was shady.”

  “How so?” he asked, curious as to what she found or thought she’d found.

  “I found an article linking ICU with a Colombian kidnapping, some heiress snatched from her daddy’s rum plantation. It was suggested, although never proven, that the family had a disagreement with some militant group. The girl was recovered and delivered to American soil. The other woman with her, her maid, was killed during the rescue.”

  “And?” He recalled that case. The other woman was an undercover federal agent who hadn’t been killed but reassigned to protect her identity. For nearly two years she’d been working from the inside. When ICU got the girl out they didn’t want it known that her maid had been assigned to watch and log Daddy’s association with Colombian drug lords. It would have tipped off too many people to the ongoing investigation.

  “And nothing. He and Maggie worked it out. She was happy with whatever explanation he gave her about his job, and that was good enough for me. She’s a good judge of character. It took me a little while to warm up to him, but as he helped save our ass, I had to forgive the way he’d treated Maggie when he first met her. In the end it all worked out.”

  He’d known about the serial killer stalking Maggie and her dancers. When he’d read the file and realized it was his Shannon the killer had captured to lure Maggie … well, let’s just say it was a good thing the fucker was already dead. Realistically, it wasn’t like he could have done anything, but it made him feel better. “You want to tell me about it?”

  “I just did. They’re one big happy couple.”

  “No, I mean being held as bait. It must have been traumatic.”

  “Scary as shit actually, but it’s over and done with. Life goes on,” she said, turning her head to look out the window.

  “Shannon, this is me you’re talking to. I know when you don’t want to talk about something.”

  “Then drop it.”

  “Dropping it won’t make it better.”

  “Neither will talking about it,” she said, swiveling her neck to stare him down. “It sucked, all right? He hit me and tied me to a chair, where I had to pray like hell Maggie wasn’t stupid enough to meet his demands. Which of course she was. Then I had to watch the wheels in her head turn as she tried to figure out how she was going to get us away from that psycho. And I couldn’t say anything because I knew he’d hit me again and she’d do something even dumber. Which she did, again. She lured him into her bedroom. I didn’t know if she was ever going to come out again. All because I’d allowed that psychopath into the house. If Christian hadn’t shown up, I don’t know if Maggie could’ve shot Wright a second time. Maybe she would have, maybe she wouldn’t have. Who knows? It doesn’t matter. Christian finished the job. End of story. Now can we drop it?”

  Obviously she had unresolved issues with the event, and obviously she wasn’t ready to talk about it—yet. He’d learned from experience and training that sooner or later stuff like that had to be resolved or bad shit was going to happen. Bad shit like giving in to your scumbag father’s demands. She’d told Noah she’d given in because she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Was that what she’d meant? Could JJ have caught her when she’d been feeling vulnerable? Had he known that, or did the dumb fuck get lucky? Noah wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time. He needed her head here, in this game, not focused on what had happened earlier that year. So he did as asked and dropped it.

  “How about we go over tonight again?”

  “Noah, I think you have me confused with a sixteen-year-old smartass. I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve taken on major corporations and won. So can you stop treating me like I’m incompetent and won’t be able to remember what I’m supposed to say or do?” she said with a finality that proved he’d touched a nerve by bringing up her hostage ordeal.

  “Someone’s testy.”

  “Someone is going to knock your head off if you don’t start respecting that someone for the responsible, successful, intelligent woman she’s become. Why don’t we just enjoy the scenery until we pick up your friend?”

  “You were always bright, Shannon, and I knew you would be successful at anything you put your mind to.”

  “Just not responsible?”

  “Are you looking for a fight?”

  “I’m looking for respect.”

  “I respect you.” But the moment he said it, he knew he was going to get slammed.

  “You handcuffed me, in my office, and threatened my livelihood.”

  “When you put it that way—”

  “There’s no other way to put, and if you want me to succeed tonight, I suggest you shut up. Now.”

  He wanted to argue but needed her focused. And regardless of the fact that he was doing his job, he had disrespected her. He couldn’t say with absolute surety that he hadn’t done what he’d done because of hurt feelings. He should have tried harder to talk to her. Had he not bothered because he was pressed for time, or had he wanted to strike out? If the latter was true, he was an ass.

  “About tonight,” he said. “You could have said no. I know deep inside there’s a part of you that wants to make amends. You’re a good person, and I used that to my advantage. For that I’m sorry. “

  Shannon said nothing, grateful at last for the silence. She’d never admit it, not even to Maggie, but William Wright had done a number on her head. He’d not only transformed her back into the vulnerable kid she’d once been, the one with little control over her life, but when Maggie had come to her rescue, every ounce of guilt that had plagued her about Mr. Polanski had come rushing back. And then, because she’d allowed that psycho to con her—her, of all people—Maggie’s life had been threatened.

  Shannon spotted a deer in the trees along the road. She prayed it wouldn’t suddenly bolt in front of the car. Once they were safely past it, she released the breath she had been holding. That’s all she needed: to feel responsible for the destruction of yet another life. Maggie was the one with the savior complex. Shannon chose to help shut down scum like JJ because it was one less nail in her own coffin.
Her reasons were purely selfish. She didn’t owe Noah a thing, and she sure as hell wasn’t a good person.

  They drove for another twenty minutes, then pulled into a gas station. Caught up in her thoughts, she was startled when someone opened the back door and got inside.

  “Hey,” Noah said over his shoulder.

  “Right on time,” the man said.

  Shannon turned to introduce herself, but when her jaw hit the floor she found it hard to speak. This guy, who she assumed was Damon, was the hot warrior type. The kind a woman would fake a damsel-in-distress routine just to watch him flex his muscles. Naked. You didn’t know what to look at first: his full mouth or his sexy gray eyes. A finger under her chin closed her mouth.

  “Are you done staring?” Noah asked, sounding jealous.

  It wasn’t that he was better-looking than Noah. In her eyes that wasn’t possible, but holy Hannah, what a close second. “No,” she said, “not yet.”

  “Damon Fox.” He smiled and extended a hand across the backseat.

  “Shannon Joyce, or Lewis for tonight.”

  “Nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

  “Don’t, Damon.” Noah’s cautionary tone piqued Shannon’s curiosity.

  “Don’t what, Damon?” she asked.

  “Oh. Noah and I went to college together. We were roommates.”

  “And he mentioned me?”

  “Damon,” Noah warned.

  “You can say that,” he said, shooting Noah a knowing smirk.

  “All right, now that we’re all here, let’s go over tonight.” Noah’s suggestion was more an order than a request.

  So he really hadn’t forgotten her after she’d left town. What had he said about her? Was any of it good? As they were now more than halfway to Boston, she let it go, filing it for later.

  *

  They arrived at the designated restaurant early. The men decided it was better to be seated first with drinks in their hands, at ease and casual. They parked the car and together walked to the restaurant.