“You feeling okay?” Sawyer asked, breaking the silence that had stretched for over half an hour. He was in a seat on the opposite side of the eight passenger jet, one row ahead.
“I’m not speaking to you,” she informed him.
He turned. “You seemed a little tipsy last night. I was worried you might be hungover.”
“That’s none of your business.” She’d been slightly tipsy after the margaritas, and she was a little wooly this morning, but that was hardly a federal crime.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he repeated to her.
“You didn’t,” she told him airily. “You embarrassed yourself.”
He was silent for a moment. “We both know that’s not true.”
She looked at him for the first time. “Do we? I’m the one who took pity on you and faked it.”
A muscle flexed in the side of his cheek. “I was pretty sure you had to have heard me.”
“When you called me Niki?” She forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I recognized my own name.”
“If you hadn’t—never mind. Stupid question. I’m having a car meet us at the airport.”
“Whatever.” She waved a dismissive hand.
She’d thought long and hard overnight, scrambling for new ideas of where the diary might be hidden. But there was simply no place left to look.
Maybe if she’d been thinking more clearly last night, she could have articulated that logic. But that chance was gone, and she was here, and she was going to have to suffer through Sawyer’s company for the next couple of days.
“We have to stop at the Layton mansion.”
Sawyer’s words took her by surprise.
“I’m not going anywhere near that place.” Charles Layton was apparently one of her most powerful enemies. She sure wasn’t delivering herself into his hands.
“It won’t take me long,” said Sawyer. “There’s a guest house I use. You can’t even see the mansion from there.”
“Drop me off somewhere first.”
“There’s nowhere safe.”
“A restaurant? A hotel?”
“I’m not dropping you off in a public place. And I’m definitely not leaving you on your own. We don’t know who’s watching for you, and where they might be.”
“Nobody will recognize me dressed like this.” Never mind the new hair color and glasses, she’d dressed in plain jeans, a pink tank top and a roomy, white hoodie, that camouflaged most everything, including her face when the hood was up.
“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. And it’s my choice, Sawyer.”
“He’ll never know you’re there.”
“Was this your plot from the start?” she demanded, her imagination suddenly taking flight, causing her to seriously question the wisdom of trusting him at all. “Are you kidnapping me?”
Was she going to appear on the evening news? A recent picture, maybe from last year’s cotillion flashing on the screen while the announcer talked about Gabriella’s death and Niki’s subsequent disappearance or murder?
Her stomach churned with a wave of anxiety.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sawyer responded.
“I won’t go quietly,” she warned him.
When they exited the airplane, would there be time to flee? Would he have armed guards to meet them? Would they gag her and toss her in the backseat of a car?
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Sawyer intoned. “Stop.”
“Are you truly evil?”
“No.”
“I think you are.”
“I’m not.”
“I think you’re going to kill me and take your chances with Reed and Caleb. How will you get away from them, Sawyer? Do you own a secret Caribbean island?”
“Do you need a drink?”
“I’m not letting you get me drunk.”
He gazed at the ceiling in what looked like a prayer for patience. “You are perfectly safe, Niki.”
“I’m in a lot of danger,” she retorted.
“Yeah, well, that may be true. But you’re not in danger from me.”
“We both know you’re a liar.”
He laughed at that, reminding her of why she’d been attracted to him. “And we both know you’re pure of heart?”
“I never blackmailed anyone. And neither did my mother.” Her stomach was beginning to calm down. She realized she couldn’t bring herself to believe Sawyer was a coldhearted killer.
“We’ll know for sure once we read the diary,” he said.
“I don’t think we’ll find it.”
“You probably want to start thinking about places to look.”
“I’ve looked everywhere.”
“If you’d looked everywhere, you’d have found it,” he offered calmly.
His cool reasoning made her mad.
“I’m not speaking to you,” she reminded him.
“I can tell.”
She pressed her lips together. If he wasn’t so insufferable, she might be able to keep silent. Still, if she didn’t speak up for herself and her mother in all this, who would?
“Why do you want to go to your mansion?”
Sawyer glanced laconically at his watch. “You lasted exactly twenty-five seconds.”
“Shut up.”
“I can shut up, or I can answer your question, but you’re going to have to choose.”
“I have a lot at stake,” she defended.
“I never said otherwise.”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Why do you want to go to your mansion?”
“Because, if I show up in D.C., and I don’t stop to see Charles, he’ll get suspicious.”
“Are you planning on telling him that you found me?”
“He already knows I found you.”
“Does he know your cover’s blown?”
“No.”
“Will you tell him that?”
“No.” Sawyer paused. “Luckily for you, I’m a damn fine liar.”
“Did he help you buy the ranch?” She had spent the last day and a half trying to wrap her head around Sawyer purchasing an entire cattle ranch as a cover story.
“I bought the ranch.”
“I can’t understand the super rich.”
“You can’t understand yourself?”
“I’m not superrich.” She knew Gabriella had been very well off. But she couldn’t approach the inter-generational wealth of people like the Laytons.
“Have you checked your Swiss bank account lately?” Sawyer asked.
“I haven’t had time. And how do you know she had a Swiss bank account?”
“I can afford good investigators.”
Pain was beginning to throb to life at the base of Niki’s neck. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the white leather seat. “If you people know I have money,” she said, enjoying the darkness. “Why do you think I’d resort to blackmail?”
“Nobody thinks you want money, Niki.” Sawyer’s deep voice seemed to surround her, and her name on his lips sent a deep shiver along her spine. “They think you want power.”
“Tell them I don’t.”
“I will. Just as soon as we find out who they are.”
Ten
It was a straightforward matter to get Niki into the guest house. He had been sneaking in and out of it, at all hours of the day and night, with or without company, since he was sixteen years old.
As a teenager, he’d commandeered the little house and customized it to his tastes. Though he now spent most of his time in his own penthouse in Georgetown, he still often stayed over.
“You’ll be safe here,” he found himself telling Niki as he pulled the suite door shut behind him. Once he’d uttered the words, he realized they sounded overly dramatic.
She glanced from the hunter-green wraparound sofa, out the view window that overlooked the grounds and the public golf course beyond, to the narrow, wrought-iron staircase that led to his loft bedroom.
“Bathroom is through that door,” he told her. “I hope you’re not too hungry.”
They hadn’t eaten anything on the plane, and he had nothing to offer her here. Hopefully, he could get away from his uncle fairly quickly, and they could rustle up a meal.
“I’ll survive,” she told him, wandering toward the window. “As long as you’re not planning to kill me off to keep me quiet.”
“Not today,” said Sawyer.
“Comforting.”
He moved up behind her. “Tell me you’re not truly frightened.” He couldn’t stand it if she was.
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to expect. Since the day my mother died, I’ve been jumpy and anxious, and I’d love to know how to make it stop.”
He touched her shoulder, but she shrugged away.
He let his hand drop back to his side. “I’m trying to help you.”
“So, you’ve said.” She turned. “But your priority is your own family, and I’m a threat to them.”
Sawyer didn’t know how to respond. She was a threat to his family. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care about her. She was as much a victim in this as anyone, maybe more so. Gabriella might have catalogued those men’s secrets, but the men were the ones who’d stepped out of line to begin with.
Niki had never stepped out of line. She hadn’t picked her mother. Fate had done that for her.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he told her.
She simply shrugged in return. “I’ll be here.”
He hesitated. “You won’t try anything stupid, will you? Don’t leave, Niki. I’m your best hope.”
“You’re my worst nightmare.” She looked sexy, vulnerable, compelling to the extreme.
He had to fight to keep from pulling her into his arms. “If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.”
“Is that how you sleep at night?”
There were times in his life when he didn’t sleep much at all. And this was one of those times. There was no good answer here. No way for everyone to win. But he’d vowed to himself that Niki wouldn’t be the loser.
“Wait here,” he pleaded. “Just…wait for me.”
He left her then, praying she’d do the smart thing.
He drove the main driveway, parking out front and mounting the wide, semicircle staircase to the entry foyer. There, he took a short hallway along the front of the mansion to his uncle’s home office. Sawyer had checked earlier and learned Charles would be working from the mansion.
Charles’s assistant Kelly showed no surprise at Sawyer’s appearance.
“He’s inside reading,” Kelly told him. “Go on in.”
Sawyer pushed open the oversized oak door, finding his uncle behind a massive cherry wood desk. The windows were ajar, allowing a breeze to waft across the rose garden, partially dissipating the scent of old leather.
Charles looked up, peering over the top of his reading glasses. “What are you doing here?” he demanded without preamble. “If you found it, you should have called right away.”
“I haven’t found it.”
“Then get your ass back to Colorado. I don’t care if you’re sick of cow dung and black flies.”
“I’m not sick of Colorado,” said Sawyer. “I’m staying in D.C. for a few days. Check things out from this end.”
“Niki Gerard’s not here,” his uncle said flatly, setting down the report and removing his glasses. “You can’t make her fall for you if you’re not even in the same state.”
“Well, the diary is not in Colorado,” Sawyer countered.
Charles squinted, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. “You know that for a fact?”
“I know that for a fact.”
“How?”
Sawyer helped himself to a caramel candy from the small dish at the edge of the ornate desk. “Leave the details to me.”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
“Want and need are two different things.” Sawyer pulled on the ends of the wrapper, untwisting the gold foil.
Charles paused, his brain obviously sorting through the information. “Are you saying it’s better if I don’t know?”
“It’s better if you don’t know,” Sawyer echoed. It was better for Niki, rather than Charles, but Sawyer felt no compulsion to add that information to the mix.
“Hans Koeper has been calling,” said Charles.
Sawyer went on alert. “Asking about the diary?”
“His questions were oblique, but I think we can count him amongst the lucky winners of the Gabriella lottery.”
“Does it bother you—” Sawyer stopped himself.
“That she slept with other men?” Charles finished. “That was a long time ago, Sawyer. And she was never a long-term proposition. What bothers me is that it might come back to haunt me.”
“You know about anyone else?” Sawyer asked.
“Other than Harbottle, Carter and my suspicions about Newlin? Nothing new from my sources.”
Sawyer sat down in one of the two guest chairs positioned to face Charles’s desk. “You ever think she might not do anything?” he asked.
“Who might not do anything?”
“Niki Gerard.” Sawyer watched his uncle’s expression carefully. “She hasn’t made any move so far, except to run away to Colorado. She might want to put this all behind her.”
“You’ve been hanging around Midwesterners too long.”
“Not everyone in D.C. is dishonest.”
“Everyone in D.C. has an angle. Nobody throws away that kind of leverage.”
“Niki would.”
Charles sat up. “What do you mean Niki would? How would you know that? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m telling you the woman I met in Colorado seems to want to stay there and live a quiet life.”
“She’s lying about her identity.”
“True,” Sawyer was forced to agree.
“She’s laying low and biding her time.”
“Or, she’s trying to leave the past behind.”
Charles’s voice boomed in anger. “You don’t know these women.”
“You only knew one of them,” Sawyer countered.
“I know human nature,” said Charles. “Now, quit second-guessing me and do your job.”
* * *
It was nearly five o’clock when Sawyer made it back to the guest house. His sister and her fiancé had dropped by and caught him as he was leaving Charles’s office. They wanted to bring him up to speed on their wedding plans, and there was no plausible reason for him not to stay and talk.
Afterward, starving, and assuming Niki must be feeling the same way, he stopped by the kitchen and loaded up with a couple of sandwiches, some plums and a bottle of wine.
Now, he entered the cottage and found it quiet. He paused in the doorway, noting it was far too quiet.
He could have kicked himself for staying away so long, or maybe for having left Niki alone in the first place. Although he couldn’t imagine any reasonable person running off on her own through D.C. under the circumstances. He knew she was operating on emotion and adrenaline, rather than reason, at the moment.
He moved farther into the room to set down the food, and there he saw her. She was on the sofa, lying on her side, legs curled up, with her head on the mini plaid pillow. The tension evaporated from his body, and he moved automatically toward her.
“Niki?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle her.
She didn’t stir.
On the coffee table, he placed the things he’d been carrying, coming down on one knee. “Niki?”
Still nothing.
It occurred to him that he should leave her sleeping. It wasn’t like they had to rush off anywhere.
He gazed at her beautiful face for several minutes. Her cheeks were flushed, lashes lush against her skin, her red lips were slightly parted, and her hair was sexily mussed across her forehead.
The only thing marring the picture were her glasse
s, which were slightly askew. He gently lifted them away from her face, folding them, then reaching over her to set them on the side table.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” she said sleepily, a slight smile turning up her lips.
“Hi, yourself,” he returned, fighting an almost compulsive urge to cradle her face and kiss her mouth.
“I fell asleep,” she told him, the tone of her voice ratcheting up the powerful emotions in his chest.
“You did,” he agreed, the urge to kiss her strengthening by the second.
He met the soft green of her eyes and felt the tiny puff of her breath. His hand lifted, thumb touching the soft flush of her cheek.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered, his lips going down on hers.
She kissed him back, and it lasted a sweet, sexy, extraordinarily satisfying three seconds.
But then she jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t.
She glanced around, pulling herself into a sitting position, wedging her knees protectively between them. “How long have I been asleep? What time is it?”
“It’s five o’clock.”
She stared at him. “You can’t kiss me, Sawyer.”
“I know.”
“You should never have kissed me in the first place.”
“I tried to stop,” he told her in all honesty.
“Yeah, right.”
“You know I tried.” He touched her arm, but she jerked away.
He did a quick mental debate, telling himself to leave it alone, but he found he couldn’t. “That first day in the river, it was me that pulled back. When we made love in the hotel room, I tried to say no. This thing with you and me was never part of the plan.”
Her expression faltered, and he knew she remembered.
“I didn’t plan on being attracted to you. I couldn’t help myself.”
Her brows went up. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“I swear to you I tried to keep it under control, but every time you looked at me, I wanted you. And when you kissed me, wrapped your arms around me, pressed against me, there was no way I could stop myself.”
“Please tell me you’re not looking for sympathy.”
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