Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He sat on the sofa, wearing only knit boxer shorts and a T-shirt, his elbows braced on his knees and his shoulders slumped. He looked up when she came out of the bathroom. “Lina.”

  “Good morning.” Her voice didn’t sound quite right, but neither did his.

  “Can we talk?”

  Oh, God. She knew they had to. She even knew she owed him an apology. He’d been right—she had overreacted. All her fears had suddenly coalesced. It was as if she’d been waiting for him to give her an excuse to run. But she also knew staying was perilous, and not because Maya’s killer was still out there.

  “I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly. “You were right. I was pushy because—”

  His bloodshot eyes stayed on her face. “Because?”

  “The day sucked, okay? Thinking about the accident and then remembering where I’d seen him freaked me out, and I kept seeing Maya and—” She stopped. “I wanted you to come home, and then when you did—”

  “I was an asshole.” His voice sounded as raw as she felt.

  Lina didn’t say anything.

  “Too much is happening. I don’t know how to feel about any of it. I just...wasn’t ready to talk, and I didn’t know how to say that nicely.”

  She shook her head. That was the part that still hurt. “It was more than that. You were angry that I was here. That you had to interact with me.”

  “No. I was angry because—” He didn’t finish.

  “Because?”

  His turn to shake his head.

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair the rest of the week. Unless you have an idea where I could go.”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to make his knuckles show white before looking at her again. “Don’t go, Lina. Don’t give your notice.” There was a noticeable pause before he could squeeze out the last word. “Please. Please don’t leave.”

  God help her, she didn’t want to go anywhere. “What good will staying do?”

  “Give me a chance.” The plea in his eyes might be more powerful because of how terrible he looked.

  She remembered thinking that Bran Murphy would never beg for anything, but that was what he was doing. She hated that she was responsible for making him do it.

  She had some doubts about her own part in last night’s debacle. David had damaged her ability to trust more than she’d understood. Taking that out on Bran was unfair. He might not love her, but he was trustworthy. She was staking her life and her baby’s on him. She couldn’t believe he’d ever break a vow the way David had.

  So she bit her lip and nodded. “I won’t make any decisions yet. Last night was my fault as much as yours. I...usually know when to back off.”

  “And I believe you would have told me about the baby. I’m ashamed of myself, but I was lashing out.”

  If any more regret carved his face she wouldn’t be able to stand it. “People squabble. That’s what we did.” She raised her eyebrows. “You know, if you plan to go into work, you could really use a shower and shave.”

  He grimaced and rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “I think we have time for pancakes, if you want some.”

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That would be really nice.”

  Lina went into the kitchen, hoping by the time she saw him again he would have smoothed out some of the cavernous lines in his face carved by regret.

  * * *

  ZACH BACKED HIS pickup into the parking space so he and Bran could see the trucking company headquarters without getting out. Today was a little warmer than the last few had been, but not by much. The slight warming and the milky color of the sky presaged snow. He hadn’t looked at the newspaper this morning or turned on his radio to find out what was predicted, but he’d bet his next paycheck the first flakes would appear tonight.

  Clearly preoccupied, Bran had been quiet during the hour drive from Clear Creek. He had said that even the two FBI agents were coming up empty-handed when they tried to figure out where Tag Jones and the Cobbs were hiding out. Zach knew Bran would have liked to believe they’d hightailed it out of Clear Creek, but they both figured that wasn’t the case.

  Lina represented the death penalty to Jones. She hadn’t just seen him holding a gun on her friend, she’d seen him pull the trigger. The drawing was great, but this was a case where a picture was not worth a thousand words. If Lina was gone and the investigators couldn’t come up with any physical evidence, he could shrug and say, “We all have look-alikes out there. All I can tell you is, that’s not me.”

  Getting rid of Lina had to be his number one priority. Which made it surprising Bran had agreed to leave her long enough to follow up with Rob Greaver.

  “Shit day?” Zach asked eventually, after turning off the engine.

  Bran bumped his head a couple of times on the headrest. “Shit night.”

  Zach frowned.

  “Lina and I went at it. I was a jerk, she told me she was giving the school district only the rest of the week for notice, then flying home.”

  “That...might be the safest thing for her to do,” Zach said, thinking it through.

  “Or incredibly dangerous.”

  “Yeah. That’s possible, too,” he had to concede. “But how can you stop her?”

  “She’s already said she’ll put off deciding what to do. We agreed it was a stupid argument, we both overreacted.”

  “Uh-huh.” Zach wasn’t buying it.

  “I don’t know if I can be what she needs,” Bran said abruptly.

  Zach shifted behind the wheel to stare at his brother. “You shouldn’t have to transform yourself for anyone.”

  “You didn’t make any adjustments for Tess?” his brother scoffed.

  “I had to quit running from what I felt, that’s all. You know what happened when I got scared. She almost died because I wasn’t there for her.” The single worst moment of his life—and that was saying something—was when he’d seen the flicker of orange flames from outside her house, when he’d known she might already be dead because he wasn’t in there to protect her the way he should have been. “I learned my lesson.”

  “There he is.”

  Looking toward the building, Zach saw Rob Greaver. Just like the last time, he carried an insulated lunch container. This time, he wasn’t alone. Another guy wearing the same uniform was with him. The way they were laughing as they crossed the parking lot, they had to be friends.

  Bran jumped out and Zach joined him. The sound of their doors slamming made Rob turn his head. Angry color suffused his face, but he didn’t stop until he was a couple feet from them, Zach blocking his way to the driver’s-side door of Rob’s truck.

  His friend stuck with him. “Hey, what’s this about?”

  Rob ignored him. “Shit, you just won’t give up, will you?”

  The epitome of relaxation, Bran lounged against the tailgate of Rob’s pickup, arms crossed. “Nope. Mom and Dad gave us both the same middle name.”

  Zach grinned despite the tension. Bran was on to something there. “Stubborn,” he said helpfully.

  Greaver rolled his eyes. “You’re comics.”

  “You need a hand here?” the friend asked. He was shorter and leaner than the Murphy boys, but Zach had to give him credit for being gutsy enough to stand up with his buddy.

  Rob finally spared him a glance. “Thanks, Chad, but I’ve got this. Unfortunately, I know these two.”

  Chad appeared doubtful, but finally nodded. “Okay. I’m off then. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

  Nobody spoke until he got into his own car and the lights came on.

  “I talked to your sister the other day.” That seemed as good an opening as any to Zach.

  Rob barked a laugh. “Bet Mary didn’t
have anything good to say about me.”

  “Nothing that bad. We got reminiscing. You know how it is. The two of us talked about how it feels to hear someone sneaking out of your house during the night, and to have to spend all the years that follow wondering.”

  A nerve jumped in Rob’s cheek. “That’s a lie. She never said anything like that.”

  Actually, she hadn’t, but Zach had learned to read what wasn’t said as well as what was.

  “Then she mentioned you and your dad fighting the next day. She said things got rough between the two of you.”

  His shoulders jerked. “I was a teenager. My father wanted me to toe the line.”

  Hard to miss the way he said father. As if it fouled his mouth. Had he even mentioned his father the last time they talked? Zach couldn’t remember.

  “And you did everything you could to enrage him,” Bran contributed.

  “Yeah, so? Half the kids in any high school are at war with their parents.”

  Which was also true enough, but Zach thought Rob’s rebellion had a different cause.

  “Your mom has always had her doubts about you, hasn’t she?” Bran mused. “Lot of tension there.”

  “She took his side no matter what.” His mouth clamped shut as if he realized he had skated the line there.

  “You know I found Sheila, right?” He had to make this guy understand who counted here, and Zach didn’t know how else. “I can still see her. They always say this, but she did look like a doll. Broken. Naked.”

  Rob swallowed. “Don’t tell me. It’s got nothing to do—”

  Zach rolled his shoulders and took a step forward. “Was it you, Rob? Did you rape my sister and then wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze until you knew she was dead? Was it you?”

  “No!” The color had risen to his cheeks again. “God, no,” he said more quietly, even as his free hand balled into a fist, loosened, fisted again.

  Good. He was feeling the pressure.

  “Or did you hear your father go out that night? Did you confront him the next day?” Zach asked, voice almost silky, until he snarled, “What did he say, Rob? Did he tell you what he’d done?”

  “Jesus.” Face convulsing, Rob fell back a step, swung away from them. “Jesus.”

  With startling speed, Bran launched himself from the truck and grabbed the man’s shoulder, yanking him around to face them. Showing his teeth, Bran leaned in. “What did he tell you?”

  Expression tortured, he looked from one to the other of them, as if searching for an out. Any out. He started shaking his head. “I can’t—I can’t tell you!”

  Still with his hand on Rob’s shoulder, Bran said in an astonishingly gentle voice, “There are some things that shouldn’t be kept quiet, Rob. You have to know that by this time. Never being able to get something like that out will eat you alive sooner or later.”

  Rob Greaver groaned in anguish. His eyes were wet as he looked at Bran. “How could I tell anyone? He was my dad. How could I?” And then he broke down completely.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AS FAR AS Lina was concerned, this day had so far been no improvement on the previous one.

  Bran took her to school and then picked her up after the last bell and drove her home. As usual, there wasn’t a lot of conversation, but he looked tired rather than grim, which was something.

  Once inside, he asked politely about her day and volunteered the information that Agent Novinski thought she might have a lead on the Cobbs. He seemed pleased to have made an arrest on another case he’d briefly told her about. After checking the lock on the sliding door in the bedroom and wiggling the bar that made a backup lock, he asked if she was sure she’d be okay while he and Zach went to talk to Rob Greaver.

  “I probably won’t be back for close to three hours,” he warned.

  But she’d always been self-reliant, and this was no time to become dependent on someone else’s company.

  “You told me that this morning,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You won’t open the door to anyone.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  So he’d left. The minute the door closed and she heard it lock, Lina let her smile drop away. Oh, boy—three hours of stewing.

  She was instantly mad at herself. Having time to herself meant being able to read, or watch a TV show Bran would hate, or paint her toenails, or... There had to be a million things she could do to entertain herself.

  She was in the middle of an old Tony Hillerman mystery she’d taken from Bran’s shelf. Ten minutes after settling on the couch with it, she realized how many times she’d had to go back to reread paragraphs and knew it wasn’t the author’s fault. Unfortunately, this book finally, a few pages later, did grab her attention in a big way when Sergeant Chee found a gunshot victim. She didn’t need Hillerman’s description to see the scene in hideous detail.

  Lina closed the book. For once in her life, she regretted not having a pile of tests to grade.

  She really ought to do some yoga, or at least a few exercises. But she couldn’t seem to make herself get up off the sofa.

  Finally, she gave in to the inevitable, closed the blinds in the bedroom to dim the daylight and snuggled into Bran’s bed for a nap.

  She woke suddenly in a panic. It had to be a noise... The key turning in the lock. Bran must be home. Despite the burst of adrenaline, she felt fuzzy. It was weird waking in the dark, and yet having her clothes on.

  Out of curiosity, she went to the slider first, turning on the balcony light and pulling up the blinds to see whether it had started to snow yet.

  It not only had, the sight of all that white also momentarily dazzled her eyes. Wow. The weatherman on the morning news had mentioned the possibility of three or four inches, but this was looking more serious than that. And she’d only been asleep—she checked the clock—two hours.

  “Lina?” Bran called, an urgency in his voice making her suspect it wasn’t the first time.

  “I’m here.” Not bothering with shoes, she went out in the hall. “Give me a minute.”

  Two hours was about the outer limit for her bladder these days.

  When she went to the living room, she found Bran sitting on his recliner staring into space. Her chest contracted at the sight of his face. She hadn’t thought he could look worse than this morning.

  “Bran?” she whispered.

  He turned dazed blue eyes on her. “It was Rob Greaver’s father. He killed Sheila.”

  “Oh, my God.” She stood where she was. “How—He told you?”

  “Yeah,” he said roughly. “We applied a little pressure, but I think he needed to get it out. He’s spent a lot of years trying to bury what he knew.”

  “Mr. Greaver is dead, isn’t he?”

  He nodded. “I don’t think Rob would have said anything otherwise, no matter how we leaned on him.”

  “So...” She tried to interpret his expression. “There’s nobody to arrest.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want...um...would you rather not talk about it?”

  “What I’d like is for you to come here.” His voice was ragged. He rocked forward to put his feet on the floor and held out an arm.

  Lina threw herself onto his lap, secure in his arms closing around her. She pressed her cheek to his, feeling moisture, and thought, Oh, no! I’m crying. Only then, she knew it wasn’t her. “Oh, Bran,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  Shocked that he would let himself cry, she rubbed the back of his neck, smoothed his hair, held him tight.

  “At least you know. You and Zach. After all this time, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and let it filter out. “We know.”

  Taking a chance, Lina straightened enough to see his fac
e. “You’re sure?”

  He pulled an arm from around her to wipe his face on his shirtsleeve. “Damn. I can’t believe—”

  “Everyone cries. Or they should anyway.”

  He gave a short laugh. “This is a first for me. At least since I was a boy.”

  “You didn’t cry when your dad died?”

  Bran shook his head. “It...didn’t occur to me.”

  “Oh, Bran.” Now she was going to cry. She pressed her lips against the corner of his, then her cheek to his again.

  They sat like that for several minutes. Eventually, she realized he’d set the recliner to rocking. It felt so good, being cradled like this, holding him in turn.

  A man who hated being emotionally vulnerable, he had let her see him cry.

  Lina was willing to bet that neither he nor his brother had displayed a whole lot of emotion during their drive back to Clear Creek. Would Zach cry in Tess’s arms?

  Finally, Bran started to talk. “I didn’t tell you that yesterday Zach and I went into the Clear Creek police station and got tough. A detective named Easley who Zach knows promised to find any evidence still stored from when Sheila died. He called this morning to tell me they had her nightgown. He says there’s a stain that could be semen.”

  His hand moved over her back in soothing circles.

  “I’m going to pay to have it tested. Because the suspect is dead and there won’t be any trial, the state lab is unlikely to be willing to do anything, or at least it’ll be at the bottom of their list of priorities.”

  She understood that, too, even if she didn’t like it.

  “It’s worth a little money to be absolutely sure.”

  “How will you get Mr. Greaver’s DNA for comparison?”

  “Easley said he’d get a warrant based on Rob’s testimony. Chances are good Mrs. Greaver hasn’t cleaned out all her husband’s stuff. All we need is a hairbrush or a comb or, hell, something he spit on.”

  “How did Rob know?” she asked. “Did he hear his father sneaking out, or what?”