“That’s right, Alice. I’m giving it back to you. You can go on playing your little games. But every minute of every hour of every day, you’re going to remember one thing. You owe it all to me. Aaron’s bastard son, by the woman he loved. You’re going to go through the rest of your miserable life knowing you’re living on charity. Jason Hawk’s charity.”
The woman went pale. Then she flushed, her face turning furiously red. A pulse throbbed at her temple as she shook with her rage, and Jason guessed that the rest of her life might not be as long as she’d hoped.
“Remember it, Alice. You’re a charity case now. And everybody on that board is going to know it.”
He heard the crackle of paper, and saw that her thin, diamond-ringed hands had crushed the papers in her lap. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
HE’D NEVER FELT so free.
Jason nearly broke into a run as he headed for his car. He felt light, as if he’d put down a burden long carried. He found himself grinning rather stupidly, even tilting his head back to let the rain, which had diminished to a drizzle, wash over his face.
When he reached the gray coupe he stopped, turned to look back at the utilitarian buildings of his father’s first business. He’d started with less, Jason thought, remembering the much more modest, run-down building that had housed McKenna’s Diesel Repair. He’d worked his tail off, for six years, and when old man McKenna had wanted to retire, Jason had bought him out. That had been the beginning. Maybe he hadn’t gone quite as far as Aaron had, but he’d done damned well.
In his way, Aaron is responsible for where you are today.
Kendall had been right. About that, as well as so much else. In a tangled sort of way, his father had made him what he was today.
Kendall.
He had to find her. Tell her. He knew it wouldn’t make much difference to her, not after what he’d done to her, but he wanted her to know he’d walked away from it. He wanted her to know the empire Aaron had built wouldn’t die by his son’s hand. That, at least, would mean something to her. And maybe, just maybe . . .
The book had been right. His plans had changed. He’d found the perfect fate for Alice. It had been right, no matter the source. Perhaps because of the source. So why couldn’t that source be right about him and Kendall as well? Did he dare hope that it was, that she would see it that way, in spite of everything? He didn’t care anymore that logic was telling him that he never would have thought of it on his own, that the thought of them together forever had been planted in his mind by the book; he only knew it was just as right as what he’d just done.
He only hoped he wasn’t too late in seeing it. In believing. In following the plan that now seemed inevitable.
He unlocked the coupe’s door and pulled it open.
“Hawk!”
He looked up at the call, suppressing a rueful surprise that it seemed so natural to respond to the once hated name. But that surprise was quickly overtaken by wariness as he saw Whitewood hurrying toward him, casting furtive glances back over his shoulder.
“I’m not looking to buy an attorney,” Jason said when the man came to a halt before him.
Whitewood seemed to make an effort to appear offended, but it failed miserably. He glanced once more over his shoulder, and when he faced front again, Jason saw a flicker of genuine fear in the man’s eyes. Apprehension spiked through Jason.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to warn you, Mr. Hawk—”
“You mean you’ve decided to switch sides, now that Alice doesn’t hold all the cards anymore?”
The man didn’t seem at all insulted. “Let’s just say I’m a man who knows a stronger hand when he sees ones.”
“Perceptive. Warn me about what?”
“Alice.”
Jason chuckled. “That’s hardly necessary. I know she’ll be out for my blood.”
“She won’t settle for just that. She went crazy after you left. She’s always been a little . . . fixated, but she went completely berserk. Ranting, screaming for your head . . .”
I’ll bet, Jason thought, allowing himself a small spurt of satisfaction. He’d been right; nothing he could have done would have hurt Alice more.
“Maybe you should be a little more careful who you sell yourself to,” he said.
“Look, I’m no saint,” Whitewood said. “I’ve done a few things that are . . . out there, ethically, but I draw the line at murder.”
“How . . . principled of you,” Jason said dryly. “But you’re a little late for my mother’s sake.”
“Your mother? I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about you. She’s still up there swearing she’ll see you cut into pieces before she’s through.”
“That’s been tried before,” Jason said.
Whitewood looked at him for a moment. “You are pure Hawk, aren’t you?”
“Hawks do breed true, it seems.”
“Well, maybe you can take care of yourself, but you’d better watch your back. She called the guy she’s had following Kendall, and he’s nobody to trifle with. He’s even crazier than she is. Cold as ice. She said he’d done something for her before, and I think maybe it was—”
Jason grabbed the blonde’s shoulders, barely restraining himself from shaking him like a recalcitrant child. “She called him and . . . what?”
“She said they were down to the last option. And that she didn’t care how he did it, as long as he did it fast.”
The last option. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out what that was. And if he’d been following Kendall, it was only logical that he’d deal with her first. Jason released the lawyer, the apprehension inside him shifting to full-blown fear. Whitewood backed away, looking at Jason as if he thought he was as crazy as Alice. Without another word, he turned and hurried away, leaving Jason reeling.
Kendall. God, what had he done?
He’d meant it to be a distraction, a diversion, he’d wanted Alice so concerned about what he and Kendall were doing about Aaron’s will that she wouldn’t notice in time the moves he was making at Hawk. That she wouldn’t have time to talk to the board members before the meeting, so she would have no hint something was up. That she wouldn’t have time to go over Aaron’s records in depth, and make some connection that might have led her to him. He’d wanted Alice’s attention divided, and he’d gotten exactly that. And he’d used Kendall to do it, just as he’d used her for the last bits of information he’d needed to verify he could indeed take Alice down.
He’d used her. Coldly. Cruelly. More cruelly even than he’d realized. Perhaps even more cruelly than she realized. And it had worked. Too well.
So well that Kendall’s life could be in danger.
So well that she could die.
Revulsion welled up inside him, and he staggered back against the car. God, he was just like his father. Cold, manipulative, using whoever came to hand as if they were no more than tools to serve a purpose and then be discarded.
A vivid, stark image formed in his mind, of himself on some distant day in the future. Dying cold and alone and full of regrets, just as Kendall had said. Just like his father, who had died speaking the name of the one woman he’d loved but hadn’t had the courage to keep. He was no better, afraid to admit what his gut had been telling him, that he loved Kendall. That somewhere along the line, the planned seduction he’d engaged in had become real. That the real reason it had been so easy was that he’d meant every word, every move. That instead of her knowledge being the reason for the seduction, it had in fact been merely an excuse to do what he wanted to do anyway. Because he wanted Kendall. All of her, heart, mind, and soul. And he wanted her forever.
And it was too late. He wasn’t as bad as his father he was worse. When they laid him down, Kendall wouldn’t be there to say goo
d-bye.
And if he didn’t do something, Kendall wouldn’t be anywhere. He’d thrown away the most valuable thing he’d ever been offered; he’d destroyed her love with his blind need for revenge, but he could at least see that she lived to go on hating him for it. He had to; he couldn’t endure knowing he’d caused her death.
He couldn’t endure knowing she was dead.
Shaking off the self-loathing that was a luxury he—and Kendall— couldn’t afford right now, he began to move.
Chapter Twenty-five
“YOU ARE THE same man, aren’t you?”
The man with the thinning, unnaturally pale hair looked at Kendall curiously. “The same?”
“The one who killed Jason’s mother.”
Equally pale brows rose. “He told you about that, did he? He knows?”
“He knows.”
Pale blond brows lowered. “I suppose the old bat told him,” he said, then seemed to dismiss it. Then he smiled, and she felt a chill at the sheer callousness of it. “I’m still rather proud of that one. My first job.”
The images that had haunted her, of a younger, desperate Jason, prodded her into exclaiming, “Proud? Of killing an innocent woman and orphaning a sixteen-year-old boy?”
The man looked at her assessingly, lightly tapping the barrel of the deadly looking, stainless-steel pistol he held familiarly against his chin. “Orphaning? His father was alive until last week.”
“Aaron was never a father to him. Jason never even knew him. After you murdered his mother, he was alone. He had to fight just to survive.” Her forehead creased. “And if you’re working for. Alice you know that.”
His expression changed to one of satisfaction. “Yes. You’re going to make my job very easy, aren’t you?”
“Don’t count on it.”
“But you are. Because he’ll come here. He’ll come here for you, now that he thinks he’s won.”
Kendall bit back a gasp. “No. He won’t.”
“I suspected as much,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, “when I watched you together. But you’ve just confirmed it.”
“You . . . watched us?”
“Of course. Oh, don’t blush, Ms. Chase. I’m not a voyeur. I get no particular enjoyment out of watching people in love. I left you your private moments. But I am grateful that your . . . attachment will make my job so much easier. We’ll just wait right here.”
“It won’t do you any good. Jason and I didn’t part on . . . good terms.”
“Nice try. Very noble of you. But pointless, I assure you.”
Kendall knew it was useless, had known it the moment the armed man had burst into the motel room where she’d been packing up her things, but she also knew she had to try.
“However much she’s paying you—”
“Don’t waste your breath,” he said, cutting her off. “I wouldn’t last long in this business if targets could so easily bribe me.” He smiled again, a hollow parody of appreciation. “Thanks for asking, though.”
“This is crazy. She can’t go through with this. She has to know she’ll be suspected immediately. I’ve told people, you know, and so has Jason.
“That is her problem, not mine.”
“What makes you think she won’t turn you in, to save herself?”
“She would be very foolish to do that, and she knows it. Two have tried it before. They missed the next sunrise.”
She stared at him, stunned by such brutality expressed in almost poetic words.
“Wondering about me, are you, Ms. Chase? People do, I’ve discovered. Women, especially, seem to want to know why I am who—and what—I am. But I’m afraid I have no grim tale of childhood abuse to invoke your sympathy or understanding. I quite simply don’t care. I’m very good at what I do. That’s all that matters to me.”
Kendall gave up then, knowing there was no way to subvert this man. If she was to get out of this, she’d have to find another way. At least she would have time, she thought. As long as he was wrongly convinced Jason would show up here, he would wait. And since she knew better—
The ringing of the phone cut off her thoughts. It had to be George, she thought. He was old school, preferring land lines. Besides, he was the only one who knew she was back here; she’d told him she was going to pack up her things and leave in the morning. Sunridge had lost its appeal for her.
The man crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing her arm and pulling her along with him. He came to a halt beside the table that held the phone, just as it rang again.
“Answer it. And hold it so I can hear.”
Reluctantly, with her eyes fastened on the weapon that was now aimed at her with undeniably lethal intent, she picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” she managed to get out.
“Kendall?”
Oh, God. Jason. Instinctively she tried to hang up. Only the painful tightening of the man’s grip on her arm stopped her. Jason’s voice echoed out of the receiver.
“Kendall? Is he there?”
The man shook his head at her, clearly wanting her to say no. She couldn’t say anything at all.
“He is, isn’t he? Put him on, Kendall.”
“I . . .” She was shaking, but she made herself do it. “Jason, get away, he’s armed—”
“Very stupid,” the man said, and tried to wrest the phone away from her. She hung on, fighting him with all her strength. She heard Jason shouting through the receiver.
“Listen, you coward, it’s me you’re really after, not her. Leave her alone. It’s my head the old bitch wants. So come and get it. I’m right across the street.”
She heard the loud click as the connection was broken before the man could answer. He hung the phone up with surprising gentleness, then looked at Kendall.
“Well, well. Isn’t that gallant of him?” He lifted her chin with a finger that was also surprisingly gentle. “You look surprised. You didn’t really expect him to come, did you? I thought you were smarter than that.” He shook his head. “But I suppose even the smartest women can be blind when it comes to seeing a man is in love with them. You have to have it in so many words, all spelled out, don’t you?”
In fact, Kendall was stunned. She barely protested as the man dragged her across the room to the window. He pulled back the heavy blackout drape just far enough to look out and across the street. Kendall, jammed against his side, couldn’t help but look as well.
He was there, in the parking lot of the convenience store, in almost the exact spot where she’d talked to George that first night. Dressed in his usual dark sweater and jeans, he was leaning against the fender of his rental car, his arms folded across his chest, his ankles casually crossed, as nonchalantly as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Jason, in love with her? Jason didn’t love anyone. Didn’t trust anyone.
And then something else caught her eye. Next to Jason’s gray coupe was a small white pickup truck. With a red and white camper shell. It was the only other car in the lot.
George? Had he really gone to George for help? Trusted him?
The man let the curtain drop and stood silently for a moment, looking thoughtful.
“Very clever,” he said, as if thinking out loud. “I can’t be sure of my shot from here. I could wait him out, I suppose. You’re very tempting bait, he’d come for you eventually . . . but by then he might also be able to rally some uniformed help I would just as soon avoid. And besides, I’m tired of this. It’s gone on far too long.” Then he looked at Kendall. “It appears your usefulness—and our collaboration—is over.”
Kendall shivered despite her efforts to stop it. “So you just kill me?”
“Why, no, dear. I don’t believe in gratuitous violence. My last orders were to merely scare you. But I’m afraid my employer ver
y much wants that man out there dead.” He glanced back at the window, as if he could see through the heavy curtain. “And I’m sure he’s guessed that. He’s no fool. Which would lead me to believe he has some sort of a plan.”
“No, he isn’t a fool,” Kendall said, fighting to keep from exclaiming in pain as the man wrenched her arm around to force her toward the chair beside the table beneath the window. “He did something no one else could have done, he brought down Alice Hawk. You might want to think about that.”
“Yes, he did, didn’t he?” There was admiration in his tone as he forced her into the chair. “I do love a challenge.”
With movements so swift and smooth Kendall had little chance to fight, he pulled her arms back around the back of the chair, yanked the phone cord free of the phone and the wall, and used it to tie her wrists behind her. She bit back a yelp of pain as the position pulled at muscles just now recovering from her last encounter with this man. He kept the weapon trained on her while he dug into the suitcase she’d been packing, coming up with a scarf and a couple of pairs of panty hose. With swift efficiency he bound her elbows to the uprights of the chair with the scarf, and her ankles to the chair legs with the panty hose.
“You should be able to get free, eventually,” he said kindly.
Kendall stared at him. He was going to walk out of here and kill Jason. She shouldn’t care, not like this, not after what Jason had done . . .
But I suppose even the smartest women can be blind when it comes to seeing a man is in love with them. You have to have it in so many words, all spelled out, don’t you?
Jason? She shook her head; it would be just too ironic if this cold, heartless killer was right, that he’d seen what she hadn’t, that Jason, despite what he’d done, loved her. He was wrong. She knew he was. She loved Jason, but he didn’t love anyone, not even, she suspected, himself.
The man moved toward the back of the room, toward the bathroom. He was still going to leave here, and he was going to kill Jason. Unless she did something to stop him.
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