by Jane Godman
Bryce barreled into the car, started the engine and screeched across Walter’s immaculate lawn before he had even closed the driver’s-side door. They bumped over an ornate water feature before settling onto the winding drive. Bryce took the twists and turns of this with the ease and skill of a rally driver. Steffi, expecting a volley of bullets to come through the rear windshield at any second, realized that he had used the advantage of surprise against his pursuers.
A sharp right turn and a dramatic increase in speed signaled they had left Walter’s property and were on the main highway. Steffi heard sirens coming toward them and assumed the fire department had automatically been alerted when the alarm went off inside Walter’s property. She uncurled slightly and looked up at Bryce. At his strong, capable hands on the wheel. His forearms were tanned and corded with muscle. From her angle beneath him, her distorted view of his face emphasized the determined lines of his jaw and the carved beauty of his mouth.
From nowhere, a sudden, overpowering desire to straighten farther, drape her arms around his neck and kiss those masterful, surprisingly full, lips hit her hard and low...at a point somewhere just south of her navel. She drew in a sharp breath, surprised by the ferocity of the longing that gripped her.
Bryce’s eyes flickered briefly from the road to her upturned face. “Are you okay?”
She decided now was probably not the best time to confess the unexpected turn her thoughts had taken. “How did you get them to shoot randomly in the direction opposite from where you were?”
“I threw stones. They were so jumpy, they started firing at the sound.” Although Bryce’s attention was back on the road, and she could no longer see the upper part of his face, she heard the frown in his next words. “How did you see what was going on? I asked you to stay down.”
“I got scared that you might have been shot, so I took a peek at what was happening.”
He was silent for a few moments. “If we’re going to get out of this alive, Steffi, you are going to have to trust me and do as I say.”
There was that word again. Trust. Could she do it? Steffi looked up at that uncompromising, stubble-shadowed jawline and that perfect mouth. Bryce was right. She was going to have to try.
Chapter 7
A few miles past Walter’s place, Bryce left the main highway and followed a series of rough hunting tracks, some of them only half remembered hiking routes from his teenage years. The bumpy terrain was difficult to navigate, but the car he had taken was an SUV and it covered the ground easily. After about half an hour of crisscrossing the lower reaches of the Stillwater Trail with no sign of any pursuer, he decided it was safe to make his way onto the road into town.
Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, he had allowed Steffi to leave her uncomfortable position. Seated next to him, she was now looking around her at Stillwater’s center with wary suspicion. After the day they had just endured, it was hardly surprising.
The working day was coming to a close and Bryce took comfort from the familiar sights and sounds of his hometown doing what it always did. Stores on Main Street were closing up and he recognized people on the sidewalks as they made their way home. On his return from Afghanistan, this place, together with his brother Cameron, had been his anchor. At that time, his relationship with Vincente had still been too antagonistic. They had been half brothers in the remotest sense of the word. Growing up, there had been nothing fraternal about their relationship. Vincente had been four when Bryce was born, and their relationship had been clouded by the jealousy Vincente felt for Cameron, the brother Bryce worshipped. Childhood had set the tone for an uneasy distance in adult life. Vincente had always known how to fire up his younger brother’s temper. Despite his promises to Cameron that he wouldn’t let his older brother get to him, Bryce had continued to fall for Vincente’s jibes every time. It was only recent events that had made them see they could be a formidable team when they put their minds to it. It saddened them both that it had taken a vicious murderer to force them to realize that they were bound together by unbreakable ties of love and loyalty.
“Have you ever heard of post-traumatic stress disorder?” That was what the fresh-faced young doctor had asked Bryce on his return from Afghanistan.
Bryce had clenched his fist to keep from driving it into that earnest, sympathetic face before walking straight out the door. Had he heard of it? Giving the monster that lived inside him a name didn’t make it easier to live with. No amount of therapy would drive away the images of good men and close friends being torn apart before his eyes. Talking about it wouldn’t banish the guilt that they had died while he had survived...all because he had made the wrong decision. Sitting in a discussion group with other sad-eyed people who had been diagnosed with the same disorder wouldn’t take away the nightmares. None of those things would make him whole again.
Stillwater had done a good job of allowing Bryce to hide in plain sight. When he came home, everything was familiar. He had been able to slip right back into his old life with no outward sign of the scars the bomb had left on him. He had a slight limp, and now and then someone would notice and ask how his leg was healing. No one ever asked how his head was doing. Which was just as well. Because the answer to that would be screwed.
Cameron knew, of course. His older brother, the person he was closer to than anyone else in the world, had taken one look at him on his return and acknowledged the change in him. Bryce had seen sadness instantly cloud Cameron’s eyes. From then on, Cameron had done practical things to help. The job at Delaney Transportation had been a lifeline. Helping Bryce purchase a run-down old house in town and undertake the renovations had been a project that had helped keep him occupied. Being there to talk, even though Bryce never mentioned feelings or memories, was another of Cameron’s skills. Then Cameron’s girlfriend, Carla, had died and the brothers had leaned on each other.
Now, as he drove through town and allowed Stillwater to work its hometown magic on him, Bryce realized he and Steffi needed help. He also realized he couldn’t take this to the one person to whom he would usually turn with even the smallest problem.
Bryce loved his new sister-in-law. He thought Laurie was perfect for Cameron. She had healed the hurt left by Carla’s death in a way Bryce had believed might never be possible. But he wasn’t about to ask her to compromise her duty to the police force by revealing the details of his plans to her. Because he had no intention of letting the forces of law and order take charge. Not yet. Walter Sullivan’s face came into his mind’s eye. This had become personal. Playing it by the rules wasn’t an option. Walter would fight dirty. And Bryce was looking forward to fighting back in exactly the same way.
“Where are we going?” Steffi asked as he swung the car off Main Street and away from the downtown area.
He couldn’t ask Cameron and Laurie for help, but lately there had been one other person in his life he could trust. Bryce felt his heart lift slightly in acknowledgment of that fact. “Vincente’s place.”
He registered the look of apprehension on Steffi’s face as she swallowed hard. “I’m not sure...”
“Steffi, if we are going to clear your name, we have to get to California and get that cell phone. We can’t do that without help. We have no money. We don’t even have a change of clothes.” He indicated his bare chest and the remnants of the bandages still clinging around his waist. “Walter will be on our tail as fast as you can blink. Vincente will help us.”
Pulling over a few blocks from Vincente’s elegant new apartment block, he took his hand off the wheel and reached over to place it on her knee. It was a simple gesture, intended to reassure her. As he turned his head to catch her eye, it became something more. In the space of a few seconds, the air in the car had become statically charged. Out of nowhere, everything changed. It hit him like a bolt out of the blue, driving out his breath and making him so hard his zipper was in danger of bu
rsting. How had he reached this point? How had he gone from mild interest to wanting Steffi so much it hurt, all in the space of a nanosecond?
“Do you trust me?” His voice was husky with need.
“I want to.” Some intuition told him those words cost her a lot. He heard his own hunger reflected in Steffi’s voice, saw it in her eyes, and his heart leaped in response. “It’s just that I didn’t tell Walter the truth back there when we were in his house.”
Bryce frowned, forcing himself to focus on what she was saying instead of on the plump cushion of her lower lip. “What do you mean?”
“I have no idea where Greg’s cell phone is.”
* * *
Vincente’s apartment was on the second floor and the views from the full-length windows across the river to the mountains beyond were amazing. Although she had been in Stillwater for three months, Steffi hadn’t grown accustomed to the raw power of the landscape. It could still take her by surprise, stealing her breath away like a skillful pickpocket, leaving her unaware that she had been robbed until it was too late.
As she sank into one of the leather chairs that had been placed to get the full effect of the view, she felt a pang of envy toward Vincente, who got to see this every day. She was aware of Bryce’s half brother, the man who had hired her, casting curious glances in her direction as he went to fix coffee, but he had refrained from asking questions. He hadn’t even mentioned his brother’s lack of a shirt and the rainbow bruises that decorated his ribs and chest or the fact that one half of his face was swollen and discolored. As restraint went, Vincente was displaying a level that went beyond remarkable and strayed into the superhuman.
When Vincente placed three steaming mugs of coffee on a central coffee table, Bryce gave an appreciative sigh. “Some food to go alongside it would be good. It’s been a long day.”
Vincente nodded. “Let me see what I can do.”
Steffi gazed at his back as he retreated once more in the direction of the kitchen. “What will you tell him?”
“The truth.” Bryce leaned across and took her hand, the action feeling comfortable and familiar. Steffi didn’t want to pause and examine the way that made her feel happy and scared at the same time. “It’s the only way I know how to do this.”
She swallowed the sudden obstruction in her throat. The only way I know how to do this. It summed up Bryce and his approach to life. Unlike him, her whole life had been built around a lie. Playing a part. Pretending. They were polar opposites. He was open and honest. There was no subterfuge about him. With Bryce, what you saw was what you got. He was helping her because he had no choice. He would never walk away from a fellow human being in distress. The reality of her life would repulse him. She was the daughter of a notorious crime boss, a man who had murdered, dealt drugs and trafficked people for money. She hid her true nature so successfully behind a series of roles, she herself didn’t know who the real Stefanya Anton, Steffi Grantham or Anya Moretti was. A woman who was so scared of relationships, she ran a mile whenever a man appeared in danger of getting close. Just like now. Gently, she withdrew her hand, forcing herself to ignore the flare of hurt the action provoked in Bryce’s dark eyes.
He is being nice because that’s who he is, she told herself, with a touch of exasperation. It was no good trying to fool herself that this was anything different. That this was about her personally, or that he returned that spark she’d felt back there when he parked the car—the one that was like a shot of molten heat straight to her core—or that this was anything unusual for him. That would be about as close to crazy as she could get. And Steffi wasn’t about to let this situation drive her crazy. Not without a fight.
Vincente returned with half a cold, take-out pizza plus assorted chips and cookies, and Steffi hid a smile. Bryce, falling on the food like a starving man, didn’t seem to notice that they had clearly caught Vincente unawares. It looked like he had been forced to raid his limited stash of bachelor fare for them. Somehow, the knowledge, together with the arrival of the food, stripped away the barriers between them, and Steffi chewed on a piece of cold pizza while Bryce summarized the story so far. Even though she was at the center of it, as she listened to the details, it sounded like the worst kind of paranoia.
Vincente Delaney’s coloring was darker than his brother’s and there was often a staccato restlessness about his manner that hinted at his half-Italian heritage. On this occasion he sat very still, his almost black eyes trained on Bryce’s face as he listened intently to what he was being told. Steffi found it impossible to judge what he was thinking. Would he refuse to help? All Vincente had to do was call the police and her freedom was a thing of the past. She was surprised to find she could consider that option objectively. Now she knew about the cell phone, wouldn’t it be better to turn herself in? To try to prove that she hadn’t killed Greg and the girl he had been with? By running she had pretty much declared her guilt. If she came clean now, and told the truth, the police would have to check her story out. DNA tests would show she and Greg were related. She supposed it would at least lay to rest the theory that she had killed him in a jealous rage.
The problem with her story was that until the cell phone was found it was her word against Walter’s. Steffi had a horrible feeling that, even if she was in police custody, the man who had killed her parents and her brother would be able to carry out his threat and find a way to get to her, as well. Even now, in the security of Vincente’s apartment, she had to resist the temptation to keep looking over her shoulder. The compulsion to check each darkened corner for men with tattooed hands was overwhelming. All in all, she was relieved to see Vincente’s own hands remained loosely clasped between his knees. He didn’t reach for his cell phone while Bryce talked.
When Bryce finished his narrative, ending at the point where they had escaped from Walter’s mansion, Vincente’s expression was unreadable. Then he exhaled long and hard, taking a moment to study the ceiling.
“I hate to be the one to point this out, but Los Angeles is a big place—” Vincente gave a quick glance from his brother to Steffi, then back again “—containing a hell of a lot of cell phones.”
Bryce paused with a handful of chips partway to his mouth. “It stands to reason that Greg must have kept this one somewhere safe.”
Vincente turned to Steffi. “Do you have any idea where?”
She shook her head. “No, I only learned of its existence a few hours ago. But he would only have shared this information with someone he trusted. Greg and I are the only people, apart from Walter and the men who were with him that night, who know how our parents died. I think Greg would have tried to either get the cell phone to me, or get word about where it was to me. I was on location in Italy when he met with Walter and I only returned the night before Greg was killed. Because I didn’t know about this recording, I wasn’t looking for it before I left Los Angeles. Now I can go back there and search from a position of strength. While still hiding from the police, and now Walter, of course.”
“What about your own cell phone?” Bryce asked. “Did Greg send you any messages just before he died that might have contained any clues?”
Steffi bit her lip. “He didn’t send me a copy of the recording, that’s for sure. But I threw my phone into a Dumpster when I took off after I found the bodies. I was scared the police might be able to use it to trace me.” She frowned as she tried to recall her interactions with her brother over the few days prior to his death. “I didn’t speak to Greg while I was in Italy. When I think back to before I left, I think maybe Greg did seem edgy, but I’m not sure whether I’m going back and ascribing a mood to him at that time that might not have existed in reality.” She wrinkled her nose, not sure she was explaining herself clearly. “Because I now know what came next. You see?”
“Hindsight.” Bryce nodded. “There might have been little things you didn’t notice at the time that you’re onl
y remembering now.”
Steffi nodded, grateful that he understood. “I got back from Italy the night before he died and we were supposed to have dinner together before I went to an awards ceremony. Greg called me at the last minute and canceled. That was unusual. If ever we had an arrangement to meet, we always kept it. After all the years we’d spent apart, our time together was precious. When he called, he said something had come up, and it was unavoidable. He asked if I’d come over to his apartment for breakfast instead. He said he had something to tell me but he didn’t want to do it over the phone.” She frowned. “I’d almost forgotten. When we hung up, he almost immediately sent me the weirdest message. Just one word and four digits. It said ‘Bliss 2713.’”
“Did that mean anything to you?” Bryce asked.
“Nothing at all. I messaged him back asking what he meant, but he didn’t reply. I figured I’d be seeing him the next day, so I’d ask him then.” She swallowed hard. “Only when I did see him...” That image swam into her mind. Greg with his head thrown back, that poor unknown girl kneeling between his legs. The blood. The guy with the tattoo stepping out of the elevator as she stepped in. She squeezed her eyelids tightly closed, trying to shut the pictures out.
“You are placing yourself at risk going back there.” Vincente’s voice was cool and businesslike. “Someone may recognize you.”
Steffi exhaled the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes. “You’ll help us?”
He nodded slowly. “On one condition.”
Bryce’s frown wasn’t encouraging. “Go ahead.”
“You call me every night to let me know you’re okay. Anytime you miss, I go to the cops.”