by Addison Fox
She had been hurt. While he wouldn’t have done anything differently, even if given the chance, he wasn’t immune to the disappointment he’d seen in the set of her slim shoulders.
Landry Adair was used to being let down. He wasn’t sure how he knew that with such bone-deep certainty, but he did. And he’d be damned if he wanted to be yet another person who did the same.
“I don’t make threats. And I’m not apologizing again. But now that I’ve met Noah on my own terms, I have no interest in continuing to work this on my own.”
“Oh.” The admission was enough to knock the wind from her arguments, and Landry shot him a stoic gaze over her shoulder before picking up a delicate pot of creamer on the sideboard. The dollop she dropped in her cup barely colored the black coffee, and an image of a woman in fierce control of herself struck him with swift fists.
No muffin the day before over breakfast. A spot of cream that was so small as to be invisible. And a fierce battle of wills over her family that she was obviously desperate to win.
Perhaps he’d misjudged the woman who appeared to have everything.
From his vantage point, he was beginning to wonder if she had nothing.
* * *
Landry dropped her purse in the backseat of her SUV before she reached for the driver’s door. Derek had kept a low profile through the rest of the morning, simply asking her to be ready to take off at lunchtime.
She’d wanted to ask where they were going, but sheer stubborn pride had kept her mouth closed. As a result, she had no idea if the light sweater set and cream-colored slacks were appropriate for their outing or not.
Especially when Derek Winchester sauntered out of the house in another one of his T-shirts—black this time—and low-slung jeans. That same heavy throb from their morning in the alfalfa pasture gripped her stomach and she fought it back, slipping her dark sunglasses quickly over her eyes.
She wouldn’t let him see the irrepressible response of her body, which no doubt filled her gaze with ripe appreciation.
And she’d be damned if she worried she was overdressed for whatever outing the infuriating man had planned that he couldn’t bother to share with her.
Partners.
The word stuck bitterly in her throat as she climbed into the car.
They were no more partners than her parents had been. Those two loveless souls who’d drifted over Adair Acres, perfectly content to lead vastly separate lives. Reginald and Patsy had known how to turn on the charm and lay it on thick when the social situation warranted it, but the rest of the time they seemed equally happy to ignore each other.
Functional. Cold. And devoid of any sense of passion or need or that bone-deep craving that bonded lovers together.
Was she destined for the same?
Images of her morning kiss with Derek flooded her mind’s eye, the thought so vivid she could once again taste him on her tongue. Masculine, with a hint of something smoky like whiskey, tinged with dark coffee overtones. She fought the shiver that gripped her and tightened her hands on the wheel.
Derek climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door, oblivious to her discomfort. Damn man.
The walls of the spacious SUV grew tight as his scent surrounded her once more. She’d accepted the feeling of confinement the day before because her sports car was so small, hence the decision to take her boat of an SUV for today’s little errand.
So how did he manage to eat up all the space anyway?
Ignoring the zing that lit up her nerve endings, she turned toward him and kept her gaze somewhere around his ear. “Where to?”
“Los Angeles. To my office.”
“We’re going to the FBI?”
“I want to look into a few things, and it gets us out of the house for a while.” He kept his gaze steady on hers and she fought the urge to look away, reminding herself he couldn’t see through the dark black lenses of her sunglasses.
“Can’t you access your files remotely?”
“I can do it faster and quicker at headquarters. Besides—” He broke off and she caught the sense of something lying just beneath his words.
“Besides what?”
“I want to check in, that’s all. I’ve been out of pocket for a few days and it makes me itchy.”
Landry hit the button for the ignition, the high-end model she drove already registering the key in her purse, and shifted into reverse. Despite herself, she was intrigued. By their outing and by whatever else he wanted to accomplish in LA. “What are you looking for?”
“Birth records, for starters. I want to know when and where Noah was born.”
The reminder that their hunt centered on digging into Noah’s background took some of the wind out of her sails, and Landry couldn’t help but eye the large gate that swung closed behind her car after she pulled out of Adair Acres. Two large As sat at the top of the fence, their swirling script as familiar a sight to her as her own signature.
So why did they suddenly appear so menacing? Like a brand, marking the property and all the secrets that hid in its folds?
She shook off the fanciful notion and kept her eyes on the road. The rolling countryside flew by her windows as she traveled the canyon roads she’d grown up on.
“It’s beautiful country.”
Derek’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, echoing what she already knew to be true about the land she called home. “It is. It’s so vibrant and lush, and no other place smells quite as sweet.”
“You truly love your home.”
Heat crept up her neck at his observation. She did love her home and always had. It was a large part of why she’d never ventured all that far, even if it meant living with the stifling expectations of her family.
She’d thought about New York as a teenager, and later fantasized about a flat in London or Paris. She’d even spent a winter on the French Riviera during a college break. But no matter how blue the water, the Côte d’Azur simply had nothing on her little corner of Southern California.
Several thoughts drifted through her mind as she imagined how she wanted to play Derek’s question, but in the end she simply settled for the truth. “I do.”
“It’s good to belong somewhere.” She risked a glance at his profile as she took the entrance to the freeway, surprised to see a forlorn expression that turned his masculine features craggy.
But when he turned and caught her gaze, she knew without question there was more beneath his words. “It’s good to have roots, Landry.”
“What about wings?”
“Sometimes flying’s overrated.”
His cryptic words smacked of sadness and loss. And as they sank in, the wholly unexpected need to nurture stuck in her chest, tightening her muscles like drawstrings.
She had no right to nurture.
Or question.
Or insert her opinions in whatever had put that haunted look behind his dark, solemn gaze.
They weren’t in a relationship. And despite the strange tug of attraction that had been her constant companion since he stood above the pool staring down at her the day before, she didn’t know Derek Winchester.
But you do know the feel of his lips and the caress of his hands.
She tamped down the traitorous thought as her car flew down the road, the heavy traffic of the city building with each passing mile. No matter how enticing those few moments in his arms, they were the consequence of a power play, nothing more.
A battle of wills between two stubborn people, testing the other to see how far each could push.
They absolutely were not the quiet moments of a couple in the throes of early attraction, barreling down that steep slide into love.
* * *
“At the risk of exposing my deep and abiding love for gritty detective shows, TV really doesn’t
do it justice.” Landry looked around the spacious entrance to the FBI office in LA, doing her level best to fight the mix of awe and excitement.
Derek glanced up from where he signed her in as his guest, a lopsided grin turning up one corner of his mouth. “What were you expecting? Lennie Briscoe sitting at a desk at the corner?”
His reference to Jerry Orbach’s character on Law & Order warmed her, adding a surprising sense of fun to their hunt for information on Noah. “Maybe.”
“What else did you imagine?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged before getting into the game. “I guess I thought I might see a crime lord someone nabbed at lunch.”
“Naturally. Because crime lords are a dime a dozen.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m afraid to disappoint, but it looks like we’ve missed today’s crime lord sighting. But I happen to have something even more exciting.”
Derek gestured her toward the elevator off the main entryway.
“More exciting than a parasite who preys on the fine citizens of Los Angeles being brought to justice?”
“Better. I’ve got paperwork. Reams and reams of paperwork.”
“A dream come true.”
The forlorn passenger who’d ridden in her car had vanished, replaced with a man fully in his element. Derek had tossed a black sport jacket over his T-shirt, and the pressed material only emphasized the width of his shoulders. Which she really wouldn’t have noticed—at all—if he hadn’t stopped and turned toward her the moment they paused at the elevators, a broad grin on his face.
“I’m sure it is.”
They stepped through the sliding doors, his gaze growing speculative. “So detective shows, huh? I’d have pegged you as a reality junkie.”
Landry fought a hard snort and simply batted her eyelashes. “You’re lucky we’re in a place crawling with law enforcement professionals. I’m tempted to hurt you for a comment like that.”
“Note to self.” Derek mimed flipping open a detective’s notebook and jotting down a few lines. “No mention of singers, ladies who lunch or pregnant teenagers.”
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.” He gestured her toward a large room marked Archives. “I can keep my knowledge of a certain wealthy, home-based executive’s wife with extracurricular activities to myself, guilt free.”
“The FBI follows them?”
“The FBI follows a lot of people.”
Landry maintained a light, breezy air, even as his words struck a discordant note.
The FBI did follow a lot of people. And her aunt had thought her current family situation was bad enough to warrant that sort of scrutiny. She knew Aunt Kate was acting in what she believed was the Adair family’s best interests, but Landry also knew there was more to it.
An outsider—and a highly trained one at that—could see things others would miss, and Kate was canny enough to recognize that distinct benefit.
If she were smart—if they were all smart—they’d do well to remember that simple fact.
Derek laid a hand on her arm, the warmth penetrating the thin sleeve of her sweater. “You all right? You disappeared there for a minute.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m right here.”
His dark gaze sought hers and held it for a moment before he gestured toward the archive room. “After you, then.”
The subfloor hallway was as ruthlessly clean as the lobby, the scents of industrial cleaner and old paper mixing in the thick air. She knew it was silly, but Landry could swear she felt the weight of history pressing in on them as they entered the archive room.
Anxious to will away the oppressive feeling, she sought for humor to diffuse the moment. “You take all your fake girlfriends down here?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“If an old FBI subbasement seems sexy or creepy.”
She couldn’t hold back the light giggle at his words, but before she could answer him, he pulled her farther into the room. “Come on. There’s a workstation down here that’s not used very much. It’ll give us a chance to sit and hunt around for a while.”
In moments Derek had them logged into a computer terminal, the screen awaiting his search query inputs. He’d shed the jacket for comfort, and her gaze was once again drawn to the powerful body beneath the thin veneer of black cotton. Corded muscles roped his forearms, tapering down to firm, capable hands.
Hands that had held her, caressed her and pulled her against his warm frame.
“Noah’s thirty-seven?”
The question pulled her from her musings before she nodded, her voice tight when she finally spoke. “Yes.”
If Derek heard the distress he ignored it, instead typing in Noah’s name, year of birth and parentage into the query field. Even with all their efforts to lighten the mood, Landry couldn’t quite vanquish the well of sadness as she watched him type her cousin’s name into the search bar.
While their failed kiss had been more the cause of her cool attitude back at the house, she hadn’t lied about Noah. The thought of what they were doing—and the consequences for her cousin—was tough to swallow.
Two months before, her father had been ripped from her life, the cruel hand of death dealt by another. If she and Derek discovered proof that Noah was the missing Adair heir, wouldn’t they be doing the same in reverse?
Ripping him from the only life he’d ever known? And the comfort of an identity he’d lived with since he was an infant.
On a resigned sigh, she admitted to herself that wishing the truth away—or worse, attempting to hide it—wasn’t the answer, either. “You need to add Ruby to your next search string.”
“Your father’s first wife?”
“Yes. Ruby Townsend Mason.”
“Her daughter, Georgia, is Carson’s fiancée, right?”
“Georgia’s her stepdaughter, but they might as well be related by blood. The two of them are incredibly close.”
Again, the pressure of the past few months weighed on her as she thought about the woman who’d come into her brother’s life, brightening his entire world and helping to ease the pain of wartime that had scarred him, both physically and emotionally. Georgia was an incredible person, and she’d been raised with an abundance of love and caring. Ruby Mason might not be her biological mother, but she was Georgia’s mother in all the ways that mattered.
It was humbling to contrast the relationship to the one she shared with her own mother. As they always did, thoughts of Patsy Adair managed to make her feel sad and stifled, all at the same time.
“I’ll include Ruby’s information next.” Derek’s voice broke into her thoughts as he set up another query while the first was running in the background. “It’s interesting that it was Georgia who made the connection about Noah.”
“She saw an old picture of Ruby’s father and was shocked by how much the man resembled Noah.”
“Connections.” He muttered the word as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Strong. Efficient. Competent.
An entirely unexpected flutter settled beneath her skin and Landry tried to shake off the strange well of attraction. Seriously? When did a man sitting at a computer terminal become sexy?
When he wore a black T-shirt and low-slung jeans like Derek Winchester, that’s when.
Ignoring the sexual buzz—especially in light of the fact that Derek seemed to be oblivious to one, his gaze focused on the computer screen—Landry’s thoughts returned to Georgia. She knew the suspicions about Noah had been weighing heavily on Georgia’s mind.
Was Noah really Jackson?
And could it even be possible he’d been a part of their family this entire time?
Georgia hadn’t wanted to get Ruby’s hopes up, so instead of reveling in the celebratio
n of her engagement to Carson, the woman was busy keeping secrets from her stepmother.
Landry fought back a small sigh at the realization that yet another layer of deception and mystery permeated her life and the lives of those she loved.
It was further proof that the grounds of Adair Acres held as many old secrets as new ones.
Chapter 5
Derek retrieved the results of their search queries from the printer and briefly toyed with hunting down Mark for an update on the Frederickson case. He’d managed to put some of his seething frustration aside since taking on Kate’s request to help the Adairs, but the case wasn’t ever that far from his thoughts.
The Bureau-imposed leave of absence hadn’t helped.
The case had captured his attention from the start, but the addition of too much time on his hands and a young girl still missing had been agony.
No matter how he worked through it in his head, he always came up with the same answer. He’d had no choice but to discharge his weapon, especially when their suspect—a low-level drug runner who thought he’d increase his income by kidnapping young girls—intimated he had Rena and then moved as if he were pulling a gun of his own.
It had been a race to see who pulled their weapon first, but Derek had beat Mark to the punch and fired. And it was only when he ran to the struggling, bleeding man on the floor that he realized he was unarmed.
In moments, it had also become clear the man didn’t have Rena.
One moment Derek was milliseconds from bringing a low-life scum to justice and saving the life of a young girl, and the next he was defending his job to the brass over a botched warehouse raid. He fought the roiling, seething anger that still rose up and grabbed his throat at odd moments. They’d worked so hard. And he knew they were close to finding the girl if he’d only had more time to keep pushing.
Instead, he now cooled his heels while the Bureau worked through its reams of paperwork and protocols. His section chief had been decent about it—and had practically pushed him toward the Adair case when it came up—but he’d still forced Derek to play by the rules and take some time off.