However, Declan didn’t fall apart. With her still cradled against his arm, he opened the envelope and took out a handful of papers.
“They’re bank records,” Declan said, riffling through the pages. “Leonard Kane’s.”
That instantly got her attention, since Leonard was one of their suspects. “Do they show a huge payment at the time someone attempted to murder the witness?” Because it was that attempt that had ultimately sent her father to jail.
“There are a lot of big payments here.” Declan continued to thumb through them but then stopped. “I’m betting your father didn’t obtain these with Leonard’s permission.”
Even with the adrenaline still spiking through her, it didn’t take Eden long to see where he was going with this. “So you wouldn’t be able to use any of this to charge Leonard with a crime.”
“Or even to get a court order,” Harlan added. “Still, we’ll give them to my brother, Clayton, and see what he can do with them.”
Mercy. She didn’t want Leonard or anyone else who was guilty to go free, but maybe the papers would still clear her father. Not officially. But in Declan’s mind anyway. If that happened, he might dig harder to get to the truth about what had really happened.
Harlan pulled into the parking lot of the marshals’ building, and as before, Declan rushed her inside. Unlike before, the office was practically deserted. Probably because the others had responded to the scene or were guarding Kirby and Stella. The only person in the room was one of Declan’s brothers, Clayton.
“Any news about my father?” she immediately asked.
But Clayton shook his head and looked at Declan. “We do have a visitor though. Beatrice Vinson. I didn’t call her in,” he added. “She just showed up here about ten minutes ago and demanded to talk to Eden and you.”
Declan groaned, scrubbed his hand over his face. “Is Jack with her?”
“She’s alone. She didn’t look like she’d be very comfortable in an interrogation room, so I had her wait in Saul’s office. He’s in a meeting and won’t be back for a while.”
Saul was the head marshal, and Eden hoped that his meeting involved something that would help them solve this case. He couldn’t be pleased about several of his marshals being in the middle of a gunfight.
Harlan’s phone buzzed, so he stepped away to his desk to take the call.
“I need you to see what you can do with these,” Declan said, handing Clayton the envelope with the bank records.
Clayton glanced at them. Frowned. “Do I want to know where you got these?”
“From Eden’s father, but I’m guessing he won’t want to tell us his source.”
“I’ll get started on it,” Clayton assured him. “You want me to tell Beatrice that your chat will have to wait? Neither of you look very steady on your feet right now.”
“I’m not,” Eden admitted. “But if she has information—”
“Not sure she does,” Clayton interrupted. “She seems a little off, if you ask me. Leonard might have been right about her being mentally unstable. The first thing she did when she got here was go into a rant about one of Kirby’s lowlife brats causing her husband trouble.”
Great. Just what they needed. Snobbish, jealous and perhaps crazy. As if they hadn’t had enough of crazy for one day.
“What do we know about her?” Declan asked.
“She’s fifty-eight and was first engaged to Jack over thirty years ago, but he broke off things to get engaged to Stella. Who then ended her engagement with Jack.”
“For Kirby,” Eden mumbled. “According to Leonard anyway. Is it true?”
“Still waiting for Stella to call back and confirm or deny it,” Clayton explained. “But if it’s true, Beatrice obviously made amends with Jack, and they’ve been married for going on thirty years. No kids. And they’re rich. Very rich. It’s his money, but she’s half owner now. I’m still trying to get a handle on their net worth, but we’re talking old money and plenty of it.”
Eden glanced at the office where Beatrice was waiting. “I need a minute before we go in there and talk with her.”
“You’ll need more than a minute.” Declan took her by the arm and led her down the hall to the break room. He shut the door and had her sit in one of the chairs. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, more designed for someone having a quick bite or cup of coffee, but her legs were so wobbly that it was a relief just being off her feet.
“That call Harlan got could be about my father,” she reminded him.
“And if it is, Harlan will come and tell us.”
Since that was true, Eden stayed seated. Her thoughts were flying everywhere, probably because of the adrenaline pumping through her. But as bad as things were, and they were bad, she could only imagine how much worse it would be if she was going through it alone.
Declan took a bottle of water from the small fridge, opened it and had her take a sip. “Sorry that it’s not something stronger.” And it didn’t sound as if he was joking.
Something stronger like a stiff drink was exactly what she needed. Or maybe not, she decided, when Declan dropped down next to her and eased his arm around her.
He definitely fell into the “something stronger” category.
“You can still see a doctor, you know,” he offered.
“So can you. But I think we know a doctor won’t have any fix for the shock of being shot at—again.” She paused. “You’d think the second time would be easier. But it’s not.”
“If it got any easier, then it’d be time for me to turn in my badge. And for you to see a shrink. Nearly being killed should never feel easier.”
Eden nodded. Groaned softly when she felt another slam of the fear. Her body was obviously still revved up for the fight that was over. Well, for now anyway. “My father—”
“Will be okay,” Declan interrupted. “He had his men there, and if he’s hurt, they’ll get him the help he needs.”
True. After all, they’d gotten him away from the scene, and there’d been no blood.
She looked at him, and even though there were dozens of things they could discuss about what had just happened, one of those whirlwind thoughts dropped from her head to her mouth. “My father thinks we’re sleeping together.”
“Yeah.” He leaned in, brushed his lips over hers. Instant warmth. Or rather heat. Declan always seemed to know how to melt away the ice in her blood that the shooting had caused. “My brothers think that, too.”
Eden groaned softly. “So we’ve been judged for something we haven’t done.”
“Yet,” he added. The corner of his mouth lifted.
Ah, there it was. The killer smile to go along with those killer green eyes, rumpled black hair and perfect body. That helped, too. In fact, just being with him made things better. And that should have been a big red flag.
“Sleeping together won’t help things,” she reminded him. But then frowned because that didn’t sound right. “Well, it might help with this ache, but it’ll make our situation worse.”
“There’s an ache?” he asked.
She considered lying, but since the heat between them was past the sizzle stage, she’d only be wasting her breath. And speaking of breath, Declan pretty much robbed her of that when he leaned in and kissed her. Not one of those little lip touches he’d been giving her.
A real kiss.
She melted.
Like the rest of him, he was top-notch at that, too. His mouth moved over hers as if he wanted that ache to turn into something much more.
And it did.
The heat trickled through her. From her mouth to every inch of her. Especially the center of her body. A simple kiss had never been foreplay for her, but then a Declan kiss was far from simple.
With the water bottle still in her hand, Eden lifted her arm
s, first one and then the other, and she slipped them around his neck. The kiss deepened.
Everything did.
And they moved closer until they were touching breasts to chest. Until she wanted a whole lot more than she could have in the break room of the marshals’ building.
“How’s that ache now?” he said with his mouth still against hers.
Eden laughed. How that could happen, she didn’t know. She could still hear the sound of those shots. Still see her father as he hit the ground. But somehow Declan had made her forget about it for a minute or two.
“I can’t fall for you,” she let him know.
He pulled back a little, pushed the hair from her face. “You already have.”
Coming from any other man, that would have sounded cocky or even like a pick-up line, but Eden had to admit that it was true. She was falling for him. And that couldn’t happen. She had to find a way to stop it, and she started by moving away from him.
It didn’t help.
Even though they were no longer touching, she could still feel his hands on her. Could still taste him. And Eden knew she was well on her way to making what could turn out to be the biggest mistake of her life. Declan wasn’t the sort of man she’d be able to just forget.
No.
He wasn’t just inside her head now. He was edging his way into her heart. A far more dangerous place for him, considering in his eyes she’d always be her father’s daughter.
“I’m tired of waiting,” someone shouted from the hall. “I’ll see Marshal O’Malley now.”
That got Declan to his feet, and he moved Eden behind him. Protecting her again. But when he threw open the door, she wasn’t so sure she needed his protection. The woman coming toward them was tall but pencil thin. Hardly a physical threat.
Beatrice Vinson, no doubt.
She didn’t look like a woman with mental problems, unless those problems included a serious high-end shopping addiction. She wore an expensive-looking creamy white cashmere skirt and matching sweater. No wrinkles anywhere on her face, and there wasn’t any gray in her auburn hair. Her pale gray eyes went right to Declan.
“My husband came to see you.” It sounded like an accusation of some kind.
Declan lifted his shoulder. “I questioned him about his possible involvement in a shooting. He’s a suspect and, according to Leonard Kane, so are you.”
The anger flashed through her eyes for just a second before she reined it in. “You’re on a witch hunt. Probably on orders from Kirby Granger. Well, it won’t do you any good. Neither my husband nor I had anything to do with these attacks.”
“Then why are you here?” Eden asked.
Beatrice looked at her as if she were an insect to be swatted away. “You’re Zander Gray’s daughter, I assume.”
Her icy gaze slid from Eden’s head to her muddy shoes. She no doubt looked a wreck, felt like one, too, after Beatrice’s scrutiny.
“The name says it all, doesn’t it?” Beatrice added. “Your father’s a criminal, and if Leonard didn’t set all of this up, then Zander probably did.” She paused. “I understand he’s alive.”
Declan jumped right on that. “How did you know?”
Beatrice dismissed that with the wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “I heard a rumor, but I’m not here to talk about Zander.” Her gaze snapped to Declan. “I’m here to tell you to stop these ridiculous accusations about me and my husband. I don’t care what the DNA test proves, you’re not going to get one penny of my husband’s money.”
Eden had been following her. Until that last part. Declan was clearly confused, too, because he shook his head.
“Why would you think I’d want your money?” he demanded. “And what the hell does my DNA have to do with this?”
Now it was Beatrice’s turn to look confused. Her fingers touched her parted lips.
“Stop!” someone called out.
Eden looked up the hall to see Stella frantically making her way toward Beatrice, Declan and her.
“Is something wrong with Kirby?” Declan immediately asked.
Stella was obviously too out of breath to answer right away, and she pressed her hand to her chest. However, her gaze went to Beatrice, and if looks could have killed, then Beatrice would be one dead woman.
“You had no right,” Stella said to Beatrice.
Beatrice didn’t back down. “Someone had to tell him the truth.”
Declan went closer, nudging Beatrice aside, and he took Stella by the arm and led her into the break room. As he’d done earlier with Eden, he forced her to sit down.
“What’s wrong?” Declan asked. “What’s this all about?”
Stella and Beatrice looked at each other again. “If you don’t tell him, I will,” Beatrice threatened, her mouth in a tight red bud. “This ends right here, right now.”
Eden glanced at Declan to see if he had any idea what was going on, but he didn’t. He looked as dumbfounded as she did. Not Stella, though. The emotion was heavy in her eyes and face, but Eden couldn’t tell what emotion it was exactly.
Stella looked up at Declan. “We have to talk. There are some things you need to know about your parents.”
Chapter Twelve
A chill snaked down Declan’s spine. He’d rarely seen Stella upset, but he was seeing it now. He was almost scared to guess what had put that look in her eyes.
Eden knew something was wrong, too, because she moved closer to him, taking his hand in hers.
“What about my parents?” Declan asked, and he tried to brace himself for an answer he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear.
Stella looked away from him. She kept her attention nailed to her hands in her lap, but he could have sworn she was blinking back tears.
“Tell him, Stella,” Beatrice demanded.
Declan shot the woman a glare and was ready to toss her out of the building, but Stella finally looked up, met his gaze. He’d been right about those tears.
“I’m your birth mother,” Stella whispered.
Declan shook his head, certain he’d misheard her. “You’re what?”
“Your mother,” Stella repeated.
Okay, so he hadn’t misheard her after all, but it still took a moment to sink in. And when it did, those words came at him like a mountain being dropped on his head. The breath swooshed out of him, and because he had no choice, he leaned back against the doorjamb and let it support him.
“His mother?” Eden shook her head. “But his parents were killed in Germany when he was a boy.”
“His adoptive parents were killed.” Stella paused, blinked back more tears. “They were friends of friends with no link whatsoever to me. It had to be that way.”
None of this made sense. “Why?” he managed to ask, and that one question could be about so many things. Declan didn’t even know where to start.
“I’d just found out I was pregnant with you when someone tried to kill me,” Stella continued. “I left the state. Tried to hide. But someone found me and attacked me again. That’s when I left the country using a fake passport, and I gave birth to you in Germany.”
Declan’s head was pounding now. The thoughts flashing through them. The memories of his parents—meager memories, at that—were all lies. He wasn’t the man he’d thought he was.
And Stella had spent decades lying to him.
He leaned down, still using the jamb for support, and he got right in her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid someone would try to kill you.” Despite the tears and shaky voice, she didn’t hesitate. “The same person who tried to kill me.”
“Someone killed my family,” he reminded her, and he hated the anger in his voice. Stella was already on the verge of losing it. But he couldn’t stop himself. Ev
erything was crashing down on him.
Stella nodded. “I think they were murdered because someone was trying to get to you, because they found out you were my son. That’s why you were sent to Ireland to be with Meg, a distant cousin of mine. But soon the threats started again, so I had you moved around from place to place.”
“Until Meg dropped me off at Rocky Creek,” Declan supplied.
“Yes.” Stella paused again. “I arranged it after she couldn’t handle the danger anymore. She was afraid she’d be murdered by the same person who’d killed your adoptive parents.”
“Who killed them?” he shouted. Because he wanted them dead. That person had taken away everyone he’d loved, and had left him an orphan.
Or so he’d thought.
But his birth mother had been alive all along, and nearby the entire time he’d lived in Rocky Creek.
“Stella thinks I’m the one who tried to kill you,” Beatrice volunteered.
Eden stepped between him and Beatrice, probably because she thought he might launch himself at the woman. “Why would she think that?”
But Beatrice didn’t have to answer. Declan suddenly knew the reason why. “Because Jack Vinson is my biological father, and Beatrice was so insanely jealous that she wanted Stella and me dead.”
That helped ease some of the, well, whatever the heck he was feeling for Stella. Anger, yes.
Maybe even rage.
And the feeling of being betrayed by someone he’d trusted. However, there was a bigger betrayal here, and she was standing right next to him wearing pricey clothes.
When Declan’s glare landed on her, Beatrice actually dropped back a step, maybe because she saw that rage in him. She began to frantically shake her head.
“I didn’t try to kill you. And I definitely didn’t kill your family. I wanted you out of my husband’s life. Out of my life,” she practically yelled. “You don’t deserve to inherit anything we have.”
“It’s all about the money to her,” Stella said in a whisper. “But until these attacks started and she showed up again, I had no idea she was behind them.”
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