Bed of Lies

by Pam Champagne

  Her bitter voice dragged him out of the past. “Happy?”

  She tugged the charm from his fingers.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Brenna tilted her head and held his gaze. “Every woman has a man in their past that they can’t forget. You’re mine.”

  In a daze, he helped her put on the flannel shirt then moved toward the stove before she saw the bulge in his pants.

  He placed a mug of hot tomato soup in front of her. “Drink this.” Brenna looked everywhere except at him. He flipped a package of saltines to the middle of the table. “Once you get some food in your body, you’ll warm up. Feel more like the woman I remember.”

  Brenna burned with embarrassment. The man had walked out on her when she was pregnant with his child. And still she wore a memento of him around her neck. What was he thinking? Why had he returned to Spruce Harbor?

  She’d caught a glimpse of him as she’d walked down the aisle. Would have fallen if Colin hadn’t held her upright. When had he arrived in Spruce Harbor? With her busy schedule, it was no wonder she hadn’t heard any of the rumors that must be flying around town. All her odd jobs left zero time to listen to local gossip.

  She hardened her heart. The bastard had disappeared off the face of the earth as soon as she’d signed the affidavit acquitting him of any wrong-doing in Billie Crane’s death. Brenna closed her eyes. God, she was tired. “Why are you here, Ace?”

  He dragged the stainless steel pan to where she sat. “Taking care of you. Put your feet in here.” He kneeled on the floor, lifted her bloody feet and placed them in the water.

  “Why?”

  “You need to be taken care of. Your feet are a mess.”

  “Not why are you here at the cabin. Why are you in Spruce Harbor? How did you find me?”

  She took a foot out of the pan and started to rise. Ace grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stay seated. “Want to get an infection? What the hell were you thinking running across the barrens barefooted? You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite.”

  A shudder shook her body.

  Ace walked over and pulled a crocheted afghan from the bottom of the bed. “This will help.” He draped the multi-colored throw around her shoulders. “I’ll stoke the fire.”

  “Is Anson dead?”

  “I doubt it.”

  What a shame. “Who shot him?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

  Surprised, Brenna looked up. “Me? How should I know? Why did you come back to Spruce Harbor? After all these years?”

  “Why do you think?”

  She pushed the cup of soup away. “Cut the shit, Ace. I don’t play guessing games. Remember?”

  He eased away from the counter. Her heart pumped harder, bringing a prickly sensation to her cold fingers. When he reached her, he knelt and removed her feet from the pan, wrapping them in a towel. Even though his gaze held hers, his dark eyes kept their secrets. It seemed that Ace had become a master at disguising emotions. So different from the young man she’d known and loved. The one who’d worn his heart pinned to his shirt for everyone to see.

  “I’m here to punish you. Make you pay for every hurt you inflicted on me.”

  Brenna pushed back into her chair to escape his cruel words. Words that made no sense. Bile rose in her throat. For a moment, she thought she might faint.

  She blinked once and he laughed. “You should see your face. I never used to frighten you.”

  He continued to dry her feet. “You haven’t heard why I’m here? I’m looking to buy a piece of land.”

  “Why? You hate it here.”

  He shrugged as he rose and tossed the towel onto the back an empty chair. “Spruce Harbor is one of the most beautiful spots on the coast of Maine. I want to build an apartment complex. A place where the migrant workers can live during blueberry season. An animal shouldn’t have to stay in those shacks they’re forced to live in for two months. No running water, no bathroom facilities.”

  “Much like this place.” She mulled over his words. The explanation sounded feasible. Why didn’t she believe him? Was it because he evaded her eyes? At the moment, Brenna was too tired to push the issue.

  “Ready to go home? The cops will want to talk to you.”

  Panic welled in her chest, Ace’s reason for being in Spruce Harbor forgotten. “About what? I don’t know anything.”

  His piercing eyes seemed to nail her to the chair. “They’ll ask their usual questions. Did Anson have any enemies? Anyone make any recent threats against him?”

  “How should I know? I barely knew the man.” Brenna could have cut out her tongue as soon as the words left her mouth.

  Ace’s brows rose. “Interesting. Why marry him?”

  “None of your business. And don’t say another word,” she warned. “You’re not the only one who can keep secrets.”

  “I doubt the authorities will see that way.”

  Brenna groaned. He was right. If the truth about why she was marrying Anson Carter came out, her family’s shame would be an open book. The buzzing in Spruce Harbor would drown out the honey bees old man Foster kept in his hives to pollinate the blueberries during the summer.

  She rubbed her forehead to ease the pain. “I’m so damn tired. Can’t they wait until tomorrow? I want to spend the night here.”

  Ace’s gaze slid to the bed across the room. Did he, too, remember the long hours they’d spent in that bed? The bed where their daughter had been conceived? Don’t go there, Brenna. Concentrate on your present dilemma.

  “It’s only a matter of time before either your mother or brother tells the cops where you are.”

  She shook her head. “They probably think I’ve run to—they don’t remember this place. I’m the only one who ever used it.”

  Ace emptied the wash pan in the sink. “Where else would your family think you’d go?” he asked as he crouched in front of her and gently took her feet in his hands. He spread a thick layer of Bag Balm on the scratches and wrapped gauze around each foot.

  “Nowhere. I meant to say they wouldn’t worry about me.” She shifted, uncomfortable with the tingles running up her legs. Her body remembered his touch as if it had been yesterday.

  “You’re lucky. Only minor scratches and a few bruises. You come here often?” he asked, raising his gaze from her feet.

  His eyes did funny things to her insides. How much should she tell him? Should she admit that she hadn’t stepped foot in the place for five years after he’d deserted her? No. The necklace gave him enough ammunition to use against her. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time here in recent months.”

  He waved a hand toward the bed. “One bed. Two of us. I’m not leaving without you.”

  Her heart picked up its pace. “Anything between us is dead. I don’t have a problem sharing a mattress.” Liar. “It’s a double. Plenty of room.”

  He shrugged as he bent toward her. “Your choice.”

  “What are you—” Brenna grabbed his shoulder as he scooped her off the chair and carried her across the room to dump her on the mattress.

  “Such a gentleman.” Why did she goad him? Was it because their arguments had always ended in lovemaking?

  He gave a mock bow. “At your service. I’ll be back. I want to make sure we’re alone.”

  Before she could ask why he thought someone would be lurking outside, he was gone. Ace the boy had grown into a strong, silent man who moved with the stealth of a warrior. Over the years she’d often wondered if he’d accepted his mother being a full-blooded Cree. Now she had her answer. The fact that his long black hair was pulled back in a braid and tied with a piece of rawhide was only the tip of the iceberg. He carried himself like his ancestors. His face seemed chiseled from stone, all expression masked. He’d not only come to terms with his Cree heritage, he’d embraced it.

  She pulled back the blankets and slid between the cool sheets. The moment she closed her eyes a vision of blood spurting from Anson’s shoulder flashed. Brenna co
uldn’t pretend to be sorry that someone had shot him. But who had pulled the trigger and why? And why do it at the wedding? Why not do the dirty deed the day before? Or even the week before?

  Now that the wedding hadn’t taken place, what would happen to her family’s farm and lobster business? Paying off the second mortgage her father had taken with the local bank was part of her and Anson’s deal. Now Anson would foreclose on the farm, and her family would lose everything. And what about the rest of their agreement? What would happen to her brother? The mortgage wasn’t important compared to Colin’s future.

  The door creaked open, and she feigned sleep, watching Ace through her lashes. He never once glanced toward the bed. He helped himself to a mug of soup that he’d put to simmer on the wood stove and sat at the table.

  The profile of his dark face reminded her of pictures she’d once seen of famous Indian chiefs. His handsome visage remained blank. Not a muscle twitched. The boy who’d once held her in his arms after loving every inch of her body had become a stoic man. Damn the people of this town who helped make him that way.

  The taunts he’d endured when they were kids had hurt her as much as they had him. Mother a full-blooded Cree, and his father, Hank Spencer, had been a no-good gambler…nothing but a bum. Ace got his name because Hank had been holding four aces in a poker game the night he’d received news of his son’s birth. Hank left town before Ace turned three, leaving Naomi Bear to raise her son alone.

  An iron curtain slammed shut in Brenna’s mind. She’d promised herself long ago to let go of the past. Promised not to even pay a quick visit there. Emotionally, it could destroy her.

  Her eyelids popped open when the mattress sagged on the other side. She hadn’t heard him move across the room.

  “Good night, Bren,” he whispered so softly, she wondered whether she’d imagined it.

  Chapter Three

  Ace lay on his back, hands behind his head, and willed all conscious thought from his mind. Starting at his toes and working upwards, he relaxed his body. Everything went according to plan until he reached his erection. No way, no how, was his penis going to fall for any meditation shit.

  He didn’t like the soft feelings he still had for the woman beside him. Close enough to touch, yet she might as well be in China. They’d had a chance at love once, and she’d thrown it away, along with his daughter.

  Finally, his brain caught up with his heart. No matter how much his body might argue, Ace steeled himself against getting involved with her again.

  He hadn’t seen a shred of regret in Brenna’s eyes tonight for what she’d done. How could he have been so wrong about her? Youth was no excuse. Truth was he didn’t have an excuse. He’d been blindsided by love.

  Against his better judgment, Ace let the memories flow. He’d fallen for her one day at school. As usual, he’d been trying to avoid a fight. “Come on, Geronimo.” Billie Crane’s taunts echoed in his head as if they’d been spoken yesterday. “Show us what you got. Know any of those Indian tricks?”

  Don Mercer had circled Ace and made a grab for his neck from behind.

  Part of the crowd gathering to watch the fight, Brenna had charged in with no thought for her own safety and kneed Don in the nuts. He’d fallen to the ground and cried like a baby. Billie had taken off like the hounds of hell were on his ass.

  Ace smiled. From that day on, he and Brenna had been best friends. As they’d grown older, he’d decided she belonged in his life forever. Not that Brenna had needed any encouragement. The strong attraction between them wasn’t to be denied. Who could have foreseen such a tragic ending?

  Yet, she still wore her half of the heart charm. What the hell did that mean? Had she heard that he was back in town? Was this her way to torment him?

  Today he’d wanted to save her from Anson, and someone beat him to it. Should he tell Brenna that he’d already paid off the loan Anson held over her head? He’d heard on the day he arrived in town that Brenna was marrying the creep because of money her father had borrowed.

  Pride stood in the way of her admitting the truth. Once he’d admired her sense of pride and self-worth. The words of a wise Cree came to him. “Love in excess brings a man no honor or worthiness”. He refused to consider the idea that love had anything to do with why he’d paid off the loan.

  The trip down memory lane grew rocky, so he concentrated on the cold, icy sleet that now pelted the window. Wind howled across the empty barrens like a pack of wolves. Winter was making an early appearance.

  He toyed with confiding to Brenna the real reason he’d come back. Before he did, he wanted to find out everything she knew about the drug trafficking. Ace had reports that her brother was involved, at least on the buying end.

  Heroin was creating havoc on the Downeast coast. From all reports, many of the drugs were being sold in this small fishing village. And it wasn’t just heroin. Although it was the drug of choice, crystal meth and cocaine ran a close second and third.

  Common sense told him to concentrate on those who owned fishing boats. He smiled in the darkness. That included more than half of the town.

  Brenna cried out and thrashed on the mattress. Ace reached to comfort her then drew his hand back as if stung. “Brenna! Wake up.”

  Her arms continued to flail, and she kicked her feet under the covers. The devil rode her hard tonight.

  Ace bit the bullet and shook her shoulder. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.” He wasn’t prepared for the small fist connecting with his left eye. Brenna rolled to the floor.

  “Hey, I’m not the enemy here.” At least not that she knew. He rubbed his sore eye. “Must have been some dream.”

  His fantasies ran amok. A clear picture of her in her satin slip and his flannel shirt, unbuttoned just enough to expose the creamy tops of her breasts, teased and tempted. That damn bustier must be one of those push-up bras.

  Her harsh breathing filled the room. Ace swung his feet to the floor and walked to the table. After lighting the lantern he went to her. “Easy,” he crooned. “There’s nothing here to hurt you. You’re at the cabin in the barrens. Remember?”

  A shudder worked its way down her body, followed by violent shaking. Ace put an arm around her shoulders and gently urged her to sit on the mattress. He sank down beside her. “Shh.” He pulled her closer and inhaled the clean scent of her hair. God, how had he forgotten her sweet smell? “It’s okay. Everything will work out.”

  His touch triggered her sobs. He curled his hand around the back of her neck, cursing the tender feelings sprouting in his heart.

  He kept her tucked close to his body until a hiccup signaled an end to the tears. He released her and forced himself to back off. “Get some sleep, Brenna. There’s nothing to be done tonight.”

  She attempted a smile. “My mother used to tell me when I was little girl that things would look better in the morning.”

  Ace frowned. “I didn’t exactly say that.”

  She glanced away. “You’re right. But there’s no sense worrying about it now.” She pulled back the blankets and started to crawl into bed.

  His demons stirred. He had to do something before they broke through his weak line of defense. “Brenna?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Was your father selling drugs or smuggling them into Maine?”

  Unprepared for her attack, he barely managed to grab the foot aimed at his groin.

  Brenna wobbled on one leg, breathing hard. “You son-of-a-bitch. Is that the real reason you came back?”

  Ace’s tender feelings hardened like plaque-filled arteries. He yanked. She landed on the floor. “Calm down or you’ll get hurt.”

  “You bastard.”

  He smiled. “Can’t deny that.”

  Brenna came to her knees. Her gaze bore through his armor-clad emotions and stabbed him with guilt. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Drugs have become a problem in this area. It’s hit the Passamaquoddy reservation hard. Seems the trail leads here…to Spruce Harbor.”<
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  “So you just naturally assumed my father was guilty of giving drugs to the Passamaquoddy People?”

  He watched her as she got to her feet, wary she might attack. “Selling, Brenna. No one gives drugs away.”

  She stood in front of him, tall and proud. A slight quiver of her bottom lip gave away her hurt. “My father took a second mortgage on our farm so he could buy a new lobster boat. If he was selling drugs, I doubt he’d have had to do that.”

  He’d had that same thought. Perhaps she was right. He couldn’t deny he was out to get Daniel MacKenzie, even though the man now lay six feet underground. “You’ve got a point. Get some sleep.”

  Sleep eluded her. Brenna struggled to keep her breathing even, hoping to fool Ace. Was that the real reason he’d come back? To stop the drug smuggling? If so, why come here? Drugs were a problem up and down the entire coast.

  Fear for Colin gnawed at her insides. Her brother denied it, but she suspected he snorted coke. Anson had told her he had enough evidence to send Colin to prison. She hoped and prayed Colin’s drug abuse hadn’t escalated to heroin or injecting cocaine. Anson had even mentioned crystal meth.

  Where did Colin get money to buy drugs? He seldom worked. Without their father on his ass twenty-four seven, he’d become lazy.

  Recently, she’d just about given up expecting Colin to pitch in. One day out of the blue he’d offered to take over the lobstering. She’d been thrilled, thinking he’d come to his senses and was ready to start pulling his weight. After what Anson told her, she’d worried Colin might be up to no good on the water.

  Ace just confirmed her suspicions might have a solid foundation. More than likely, one day Colin would be looking at life through bars.

  She’d wrestled with the idea that Anson was the one supplying cocaine to Colin as another way to blackmail her. Anson fit the image of a head honcho in some drug smuggling ring. Ace was right about one thing. Something needed to be done. Too many lives were at stake.