Killian's Passion

by Barbara Mccauley

  The couple had flown into Dallas and rented a car the day before Cara arrived, then flown out the same day, on a later flight. A background check on their names brought up nothing, which meant they had something to hide and were doing it well. He had a damn good idea who they were, but until his source in Washington came up with photographs from fingerprints, he couldn’t be sure. He just needed a little more time.

  And time was something he didn’t have.

  His flight left in two hours, and if he drove straight from Dulles airport, he’d have just enough time to make it to his briefing later today.

  Snatching up the phone again, he punched in Cara’s number, then swore hotly at the sound of her recorded voice. He wanted to wring her neck and break that infernal machine into a thousand pieces.

  He slammed the phone down again. What was she so mad about, anyway? Of course he’d called her brothers and told them about the danger she was in. Someone had tried to kill her, for God’s sake. She needed someone to watch out for her. How could he leave if he didn’t know she was taken care of?

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. He wasn’t trying to ease his conscience, dammit. He had no reason to feel guilty. He’d done everything he could to protect her. He still was.

  He cared about her. More than he’d ever cared about anyone. If anything happened to her…

  The thought was like a fist in his gut, and he sank onto the edge of the bed. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest and echoed in the emptiness there.

  She would be fine. How could she not be? She was too full of life, too vibrant. Too beautiful and courageous andGood God. He dragged a hand through his hair. Next thing he knew he’d be on his knees singing love songs.

  He laughed at the image, then shook his head. In another life, maybe there would have been a way to make it work. But this life was too complicated, too uncertain. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—ask anyone to share that uncertainty with him.

  Still, he had to know that she was all right before he left. He couldn’t be thinking about her when he went on this mission. It could jeopardize lives if he didn’t have a clear, focused mind.

  He was reaching for the phone again when the knock at the door stopped him.

  “Killian?” Margaret knocked again.

  “Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Come on in.”

  He rose from the bed as his grandmother opened the door. She looked a little tired this morning, he thought, and the black pantsuit she wore had a somber tone.

  “You didn’t come down for breakfast.” She stood straight, both hands on her cane and swept her gaze approvingly over the new blue cotton button-up shirt and denim jeans he had on. She’d bought them for him yesterday, despite his insistence he could manage another day in the clothes he had on.

  “I’m sorry. I had some phone calls to make.”

  Margaret gave him an understanding nod. “She’s a stubborn one, that girl. Strange, isn’t it, how the trait you admire most in a person, is often the one that drives you crazy?”

  That pretty much summed up his feelings about Cara, he thought. He did admire that stubborn determination of hers, but it made him want to break things at the same time.

  “We need to talk before you leave, Killian.” She walked to the window and looked out into the rose garden below. “You need to know a few things…to be prepared when the time comes…”

  Her words were like a hand around his heart, gently squeezing. He’d never felt anything like this before. He didn’t want to. “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” he said awkwardly.

  She glanced at him, considering, then returned her gaze to the flowers outside. “Thirty-three years ago, when your father died, part of me died along with him,” she said quietly. “There’s no greater loss, no deeper grief, than the loss of a child. Then, when your grandfather died five years later, it seemed too much to bear. I had three choicesaccept what life had handed me and wallow in my grief, end my life, or believe in something greater than myself and get on with the job of living life to its fullest. The first two choices were unthinkable for me, so I went with the third.”

  He couldn’t imagine this woman choosing any other way. “Is that when you took over my grandfather’s company?”

  “The initial resistance from the all-male board members was strong. It seemed quite hopeless at first. But if there was anything your grandfather taught me, it was never to back down from a difficult situation. Not in business, and certainly not in matters of the heart.”

  She paused, her gaze resting firmly on him. From the beginning, there’d been no subtlety in Margaret’s matchmaking between Cara and him. He knew what she wanted, a full-time grandson who came with a wife and greatgrandbabies. But he couldn’t give that to her, so it was easier, and kinder, to say nothing.

  Birds chattered in the elm tree outside the window, and from a neighboring house came the distant hum of a lawnmower.

  With a sigh she placed both hands on her cane and continued, “Once they learned I wasn’t going to go away, they worked with me, and eventually they even accepted me. Five years ago, when I began to feel the limitations of age, I brought Peter in to help manage the firm. Two years ago, after a minor heart disturbance, I stepped down and let him run things. I went into the office every day, but there was nothing for me to do. Once again, I thought my life was over. And then Cara showed up.”

  She could do that, Ian thought. Brighten a room just by walking into it, fill an empty space with just a look or a touch. “She’s crazy about you, too.”

  Margaret’s smile warmed her dark brown eyes. “We became friends, then business partners, and before long I came to love her as my own child. She was the daughter I never had. Two months ago I decided to add her to my will, splitting everything equally between her and Peter. I knew she’d make a fuss about it, so I never told her.”

  He went still at his grandmother’s words. She was leaving Cara half of her estate? An icy sliver of dread crept up from the base of his spine.

  “Margaret,” he asked carefully, “does Peter know about this?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not something we’ve ever spoken about. It was always understood he’d inherit my estate. But Peter lives a fairly simple life, and he already has a large trust fund his father left him, so even with only half of my estate, he would have more money than he would ever need.”

  Few people ever had more money than they thought they needed. Even someone who lived a simple life. He knows, Ian thought. Somehow, he found out.

  It all made sense now. Dammit, it all made sense.

  It was Peter.

  Ian had never suspected his cousin because Cara had been the target. There’d been no apparent reason Peter would want her dead. But with Cara standing to inherit half of Margaret’s estate, there was one hell of a reason.

  It had been easy for him. He knew her travel arrangements, where she was, what she was doing. He’d hired someone, professionals, to arrive before her so it would look less suspicious. A simple car accident in the mountains of a small town, or an exploding water heater—who would have questioned her death?

  “But, anyway,” Margaret said with a wave of her hand, “once Cara found you, everything changed.”

  Ian jerked his attention back to his grandmother. “What’s changed?”

  “I’ve changed my will again.”

  “Margaret.” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but there was no other way to say it. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want your money.”

  “I seem to be surrounded by stubborn.” She shook her head. “But I had the feeling you’d say that, so I made a provision with your trust fund, as well as Cara’s and Peter’s. If any of you choose not to accept your inheritance, it will be donated to the new foundation I’m starting.”

  She was going way too fast for him. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m starting a new foundation.” Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “For unwed and single mothers. The foundation will give them a place to go, mo
ney to help them learn job skills to take care of themselves and to provide child care. No woman should have to abandon a baby she loves because of money.”

  Her expression was tender as she reached out to touch his face. “No grandmother should be deprived of a child she loves, either. Half of my estate will now be going to the Killian Shawnessy Foundation. If I can keep just one family together, then every dollar, every penny will be worth it.”

  The Killian Shawnessy Foundation?

  Staggered by the thought, Ian stared at his grandmother. The gentle touch of her hand on his cheek brought a strange tightening in his chest.

  Family. The reality of it hit him. She was his family. She had a connection with him, a bond, that no one else in the world did. The thought humbled him, and stunned him, as well.

  But the realization, and the implications, of what she’d just told him came crashing down on him.

  “Margaret,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “does anyone else know about this?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was waiting for my lawyers to finalize the paperwork, then I was going to announce the foundation’s opening at a surprise celebration fund-raiser.”

  There would definitely be surprise, but Ian seriously doubted that Peter would consider the event a celebration.

  He moved quickly to the phone and dialed.

  “Cara, pick up the phone. This is important, pick it up.” She wasn’t going to answer, dammit. “All then, just listen to me. I’m on my way over right now. Don’t answer your door until I get there, and don’t let anyone in.”

  He hung up the phone, but for Margaret’s sake, he restrained his temper, as well as his fear, then dialed the cell phone number that Gabe had given him. He answered on the first ring. “Is she still in her apartment?” Ian asked.

  “Yes,” Gabe answered. “Everything looks fine.”

  “I’ll be right over.” He hung up the phone and snatched his car keys from the nightstand.

  “Killian, what’s wrong?” She brought her hand to her throat. “Who were you just talking to?”

  In spite of his need to hurry, he moved to his grandmother’s side, then surprised them both by kissing her on the cheek. “When I get back, we have some things to talk about. Things about me you should know.”

  He started for the door, then turned back to her. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

  “You don’t have a cell phone?” She frowned at him. “I thought you made them.”

  “That’s partly what we need to talk about, but later. Do you have one?”

  “In the kitchen, in the battery charger. Killian, whatever this is all about, promise me you’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  “I promise,” he said for the first time in his life, and meant it. When he ran out of the bedroom, he left her to stare after him and wonder.

  Showered and dressed, Cara came out of the bathroom and almost felt human again. She wasn’t certain she looked human, not with the dark circles under her red eyes. But lack of sleep and reading computer files for the past twenty hours was hardly what could be considered a beauty treatment.

  Crying didn’t do much to improve one’s appearance, either, she thought with a sigh.

  Damn Killian Shawnessy. He’d reduced her to one of those blubbering, pathetic females. For that she could never forgive him.

  There were six messages from him on her machine. She’d been standing next to the phone, or pacing beside it, with each and every one. Each call she’d been torn between picking up the phone and begging him to stay or yelling at him to just go back to Washington and leave her alone.

  Coward that she was, she’d compromised by not answering the phone at all.

  Twenty-four hours ago they’d made love in her bed. Just the thought of his hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, made her pulse skip. But it hadn’t been enough. When it came to Ian, she’d needed more than the physical, could never have settled for less than his heart, too.

  All or nothing. For her, that was the only way it could have been.

  But that was then and this was now. And right now she needed a good, strong jolt of caffeine. Once she gave her brain a jump start, she’d be fine, she told herself. Just fine.

  She was already on her way to the kitchen when the knock at her door stopped her cold. It couldn’t be Ian. He would be on his way to the airport now. Unless…

  Her legs were trembling as she moved to the door and looked through the peephole.

  Her heart sank. It was Peter.

  She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile as she opened the door. “Morning,” she said, mustering up an enthusiasm she didn’t feel at all.

  “Good morning.” The peck he gave her on the cheek was as crisp as his Armani suit and tie. “You’re looking a little peaked this morning. Something wrong?”

  “Long night,” she said truthfully. “Come on in. I was just about to make some coffee.” She shut the door behind him and headed for the kitchen. “Want some?”

  “Love it.” He touched the rim of his glasses and looked around her living room at the files spread over her couch and coffee table. “What’s this?”

  She debated, then decided maybe she could use an ear this morning. Besides, if she were talking, she wouldn’t have to think about Ian. While she measured coffee and filled the decanter with water, she gave Peter a brief account of what had happened in Wolf River, carefully leaving out the details of her relationship with Ian.

  Eyes narrowed behind his glasses, Peter listened, his lips pressed tightly together. “And you have no idea who’s trying to kill you,” he said when she’d finished.

  “Not yet.” The smell of brewing coffee already perked up her dimmed senses. “The most likely suspects are in jail, and my number one pick, Margaret’s accountant who embezzled the largest amount of all, committed suicide. I’ll have to dig deeper and see if any of them have families with revenge on their mind. You want cream with your coffee?”

  He shook his head wearily, then sat at the kitchen table, closing his eyes as if in pain.

  “Peter, what’s wrong?” Cara set the coffee mugs on the table and sat beside him, touched his shoulder with her hand. “Are you sick?”

  His laugh was dry. “You know why I came over here this morning?” He looked at her, reached for her hand. “To ask you to marry me.”

  Marry him? She blinked, stunned by his announcement. “Peter, I…I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t—”

  “I know. Of course, I know. Even after I saw the way you looked at Ian, I still hoped.” With a sigh, he let go of her hand. “But a desperate man thinks and does foolish things, Cara. It just would have made everything so much easier. We could have had it all, together.”

  The look in his eyes, so distant, so empty, made her skin crawl. “What are you talking about, we could have had it all?” she asked. “Why are you desperate?”

  “I had a trust fund, you know. A large one. But I wasn’t as lucky with money as Margaret. Everything I invested in went sour, and even the gambling turned on me.”

  “Gambling?” she repeated. “You?”

  He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Four years ago it started off as a hobby, a little excitement in my mundane, boring existence. I was actually quite good at it. Until a couple of years ago. I got in with the wrong people, the wrong game. Most of my trust fund was gone and they weren’t the sort of people to take an IOU. I needed money, a lot of it.”

  Peter. My God, she thought, dazed by the realization. “You,” she gasped. “You embezzled the money.”

  He nodded, replaced his glasses and sighed. “I was certain I’d be able to replace it before anyone found out. But then the accountant approached me, told me he’d found out and was going to tell Margaret. I couldn’t risk that, don’t you see?”

  He took her hand again, this time squeezed her fingers painfully in his. “I couldn’t.”

  “He didn’t commit suicide,” she whispered. “You killed him.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not a killer,” he insisted. “But for a price, anything can be bought.” He looked at her soulfully. “This is all Margaret’s fault, you know. If she hadn’t changed her will to include you, I wouldn’t have been forced to such extreme measures.”

  Changed her will? He’s crazy, Cara thought wildly. “You’re wrong, Peter. Margaret wouldn’t leave me anything. She knows I don’t want anything.”

  “That’s what you say now.” Peter’s face hardened, his eyes turned cold. “You’d have taken it. Money does that to people, makes them want more and more, and it’s never enough. And now that you found Ian, she’d have changed the will again and given him the rest. I wouldn’t get a nickel.”

  “Peter, listen to me,” she said gently, ignoring the pain in her hand from his crushing grip. “We need to go to the police. We’ll get you help. Whatever you need.”

  He released her suddenly, shook his head. “It’s too late now, too complicated. If you had looked deeper during your investigation, you would have eventually found out that I was the one who embezzled Margaret’s money. I’m afraid there’s going to have to be another suicide, a rejected lover. That’s what you are, aren’t you? And Margaret will be so distraught, she’ll accidentally take an overdose of heart medication.”

  He sighed heavily and rose from his chair. “If it’s any consolation, I won’t have to bother with Ian. Margaret won’t have time to change her will again.”

  “It was you,” she whispered. “My car, the attempted break-in, the cabin exploding. You did all that.”

  “No.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Not me.”

  A man and woman stepped into the room. They looked familiar…

  The honeymoon couple from Wolf River? She searched her mind…Bob and Pamela Waters. But what were they doing here?

  They moved into the room and closed the door behind them. Cara looked from the couple back to Peter. “I don’t understand.”