The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “I hear you out there,” she said as she swung into the kitchen from her adjoining room. “No use sneaking around. You just sit yourself down, and I’ll . . .” She stopped, frowning. In the glow of the range light she’d left on for Channing, the kitchen was quiet, spotless, and empty. “Ears playing tricks on me,” she muttered. “Maybe they’ll start selling something for that on the TV.”

  She started to turn, then pain burst in her head. She managed one tiny, birdlike cry as she crumpled to the tile.

  Rich stood over her, grinning. Coshed the skinny old bitch with her own rolling pin, he thought, and tapped the smooth heavy marble against his palm. He toed at her side, lightly, catching himself when the one-footed stance had him weaving.

  Need a little balance, he decided, and reached into his back pocket for his flask. When no more than a few miserly drops hit his tongue, he swore. Stuffing the empty flask back into his pocket, he stepped over the unconscious Gertie. They were bound to have some liquor around here, he thought. Prime stuff, too. Once he’d fueled himself up, he’d hunt up Gabe’s pretty little pigeon.

  Upstairs, Kelsey drank another cup of tea while she paced her room. She wished Channing would get home. At least then she’d be able to talk to someone. And who would understand better than he this horrible conflict of family loyalties? Even Gabe, for all his support, didn’t share the same memories, the same affections and frustrations. Channing, when the trouble was real, was a rock.

  In the morning, in a few short hours, she would tell Naomi everything she’d learned. Once the story was told, Kelsey knew she would be freeing one woman she loved, and condemning another.

  For under all the bitterness, the anger, and the painful disappointment, she still loved her grandmother.

  The Magnificent Milicent, she thought, shutting her eyes. How would she survive the scandal, let alone the legal consequences? And there were bound to be consequences.

  And how, Kelsey asked herself, would she be able to live with the fact that what she’d done, and what she would do, could send her own grandmother to prison?

  A tinkling crash of glass from downstairs had her biting back a gasp. Channing, she thought, setting down her cup. She hadn’t heard him drive up, but he was obviously down there, fumbling through the dark in a very poor attempt not to wake the rest of the house.

  Relieved, Kelsey hurried out of her room and down the stairs to find him.

  “Channing, you idiot. What did you break? If that was one of Naomi’s crystal horses, there will be hell to pay.”

  At the base of the stairs she stopped, listening. The house was quiet now. Quiet enough to run a chill up her arms. Stop it, she ordered herself, and rubbed them warm. “Come on, Channing, I’m not in the mood to play games. I really need to talk to you.”

  She snapped on the light in the foyer.

  “Look, I know you’re down here. Your catlike grace always gives you away. It’s important, Channing.”

  Annoyed now, she marched into the sitting room. In the glow of moonlight she saw the glint of shattered glass on the rug.

  “Dammit! It was one of the horses. Nice going, ace.” She hurried over, kneeling down to pick up shards.

  “All the queen’s horses,” Rich said, and switched on the lights. “All the queen’s men.” He grinned down at Kelsey. “But can the queen’s lovely daughter put any of them back together again?”

  He threw back his head and laughed at the sheer poetry of it.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  KELSEY GASPED IN SURPRISE AND PAIN AS HER HAND CONTRACTED around a sliver of glass. Blood welled on her palm.

  “Careful there, honey pie.” Rich sauntered over. “You could slice yourself to ribbons.” He tut-tutted over the cut on her hand, then gallantly offered her a handkerchief. “Didn’t mean to give you such a start, but I thought it was time we had ourselves a chat. Seeing as you’re warming my boy’s bed most nights.”

  “You’re Gabe’s father.” Kelsey scrambled to her feet, but not quickly enough. Rich’s hand shot out, locked around her arm.

  “There’s a family resemblance, isn’t there? The ladies always said we made a handsome pair, me and my boy.” His eyes, bright with liquor and anticipation, skimmed over her face. “Why, you’re even prettier close up, doll face. It isn’t hard to see why my boy’s been sniffing around you. No indeedy. It isn’t hard at all. Here now.” He stuffed the handkerchief into her bleeding hand. “You wrap that up.”

  She obeyed automatically. “If you’re looking for Gabe—” She broke off, reevaluated quickly. “He’s—upstairs,” she said. “I’ll go up and tell him you’re here.”

  “The one thing I never tolerated from a woman was a lie.” With one flick, he shoved her into a chair hard enough to snap her head back. “You’d better get that straight right now.” He leaned over the chair, trapping her between his arms. “Gabe’s not upstairs, now, is he? I saw him drop you off out of his fancy car just a little while ago. Don’t know why he’d go home to a cold bed when he has something like you. But I always had a hard time teaching the boy anything.”

  He patted her cheek, pleased with the swell of power when she cringed back. “But this works out real cozy. Just you and me, getting acquainted. Whoops. What’s this here?” Chuckling, he pinched his fingers at her wrist, forced her hand up. “That’s a whopper now, isn’t it?” he said, eyeing her ring. “Is that what I think it is?” He wagged his finger in front of her face. “Is my boy going to make an honest woman out of you, honey pie? Well, you’re a real step up from most of the sluts he’s snuggled with before. No offense.”

  “No,” she said, hoping to play the game out. “No offense taken. Gabe and I are going to be married in August. I hope you’ll be there.”

  She cried out in shock when the back of his hand swiped across her face. His genial expression never altered. “Now, what did I tell you about lying? What you and that boy of mine would like is for me to drop dead on the spot. Wouldn’t you?”

  She blinked to clear her vision. “I don’t know you,” she said carefully. But she knew enough to be afraid, and her trembling gave her away.

  “You know me. I’ll give you odds my loving son’s told you all about me. Your mama, too.” The thought of Naomi soured his grin. “She’d have something to say about good old Rich Slater.”

  Kelsey anchored her chin to keep it from trembling. “I’m sorry. She’s never mentioned you.”

  His smile thinned. “Bitch. Always was a bitch. You take right after her.”

  “In some ways. You’re hurting me, Mr. Slater.”

  “Rich, honey. Or better yet, you call me Daddy. Since we’re going to be family.” The idea of it had him hooting with laughter until tears filled his eyes. “One big happy family. I bet that old icicle’s fuming over that. Did I mention I know your grandma? I know her real well. She must be foaming at the mouth at the idea of her hoity-toity granddaughter playing house with a son of mine. She hated your mama, you know. Hated her right down to the ground.”

  “I know.”

  “You know what I think?” He reached up, pinched Kelsey’s throbbing cheek hard enough to make her gasp. “I think you should fix us both a nice drink. Then we’ll get to know each other.”

  “All right.” When he stepped back, Kelsey eased out of the chair. Her eyes darted to the patio doors, to the doorway that led to the foyer. If she could get out of the room, she was sure she could outrun him.

  “You don’t want to try that, honey.” He pinched her arm again, his fingers digging down to the bone. “You don’t want to.”

  “There’s brandy in the cabinet there. Napoleon.”

  “Well, that’s just fine and dandy.” He kept his hand on her arm and dragged her to it. “Pour us both a couple of healthy swallows.”

  He was already drunk, she thought frantically. If she poured with a generous-enough hand, she might slip past his guard. “Gabe said you’ve done a lot of traveling.”

  “I’ve been here
and there.”

  “I like new places.” She smiled and handed him a snifter. “Cheers.” She tapped her glass to his.

  “You’re a cool one.” Rich tossed back the brandy, then let out a long, pleased sigh. “That’s one of the things that appealed to me most about your mother. She was one long, cool drink of water, that Naomi. She never would give me a sip, though. Let plenty of others drink great big gulps, but she never let good old Rich have one little sip. Maybe she will now. I bet I can make her change her mind. Is she upstairs?”

  “She’s not home.” Before the words were out, Kelsey was reeling back. The blow had stars bursting in front of her eyes as she fell.

  “Lying bitch.” With a thin smile, Rich drank more brandy. “Cold-eyed lying bitch, just like your ma. Maybe you’d rather I had a taste of you instead.” He laughed until his sides ached at the expression of animal terror on her face. “No, no, that wouldn’t be proper, poking in where my boy’s already been. Besides, I prefer a more . . . mature woman. And Naomi, she’s been around the track a time or two, now, hasn’t she? Now, maybe if your grandma had hired me instead of the coke-snorting Bradley, things would be different. Why don’t we go ask Naomi if she’d like to give Rich a try now?”

  “Stay away from her.” Her head spun sickeningly as she lurched to her feet. Her vision was blurred where the blow had struck her eye. “I’ll kill you if you touch her.”

  “Yeah, just like your ma. Kill a man for doing what comes natural.”

  “We know all about you.” Dizzy, she leaned against the cabinet. She just needed a minute, she told herself. To clear the pain from her head, to get some feeling back in her watery legs. “Gabe’s not here because he went for the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

  She teetered back, nearly falling when he lifted his hand again.

  “You want to tell the truth to me, honey pie. Or I’m going to spoil that pretty face of yours.”

  “It is the truth. We met Charles Rooney tonight. He called after you came to his office. He told us everything.” Praying for time, she began to list the details. He believed her now; she could see it in his face. And what she saw there told her he could do worse, a great deal worse than slap her again.

  “They’ll find you here if you stay,” she continued. “They’ll find you and they’ll put you in prison. The way they put my mother in prison. You could probably still get away. They might not catch you if you ran.”

  “They’ve got nothing on me. Nothing.” He took her untouched brandy and drank it down. “It’s all air. And you’re forgetting Grandma.”

  “No, I’m not. They put my mother away with lies. It’ll be easy to put you away with the truth.”

  “He’d turn me in.” Enraged, Rich tossed the snifter, shattering the glass on the hearth in a parody of celebration. “My own flesh and blood would turn me in. We’ll have to make him sorry for that. Real sorry.”

  He lunged. Panic and youth had Kelsey spinning to the side so that he caught nothing more than the sleeve of her blouse. As the seam ripped, she tore away, making a dash for the doorway.

  He caught her, bringing her down in a lumbering tackle that radiated pain down to the bone. Panting out sobs, she kicked out blindly, landing a glancing blow off his shoulder, another off his chest as she clawed her way inch by desperate inch over the rug.

  He was going to kill her now, she was sure of it. Beat her or choke her with those big bruising hands. And when he was done, he’d go after Naomi.

  She screamed once when he yanked her head back by the hair. Light flashed in front of her eyes, wheeled like comets fired by the hideous pain. If she had found her voice she might have begged then, pleaded and begged. But the air was searing in and out of her throat.

  “Gotcha, don’t I? Gotcha. Thought you were such a smart little bitch.”

  Her fingers dug into the carpet, reached, then closed over an inch-long shard of crystal. Mindless with terror and pain, she swung out.

  Then it was he who screamed, rearing back, the blood spurting out of his cheek where the delicate foreleg of the glass Thoroughbred had pierced his flesh.

  Whimpering, she dragged herself up and raced from the room in a panicked, limping run while his curses chased after her.

  She fell on the stairs, fighting for breath, struggling to clear enough of the fear from her mind so that she could think. When she called out, trying to warn her mother, only little mewling sounds escaped. With blood and fear stinging her mouth, she clawed her way up, gaining her feet and the top of the stairs just as she heard Rich charging up behind her.

  “No!” She snatched a vase of lilies and hurled it down at him. The crash and a grunt of pain bought her a few precious seconds, wasted as she fumbled with bloody hands at the knob of her mother’s bedroom door. “Mom! Oh God, Mom!” With one blind burst of strength, she shoved through the door and slammed it behind her. “Mom! Get up!” She was weeping as she fought the lock with fingers gone numb with terror. “For God’s sake, get up!”

  In a lunge she was at the bed, dragging Naomi up by the shoulders, shaking, pleading.

  “Wha—?” Groggy from the sleeping pill, Naomi pushed her daughter’s hand away, annoyed. “What is it?”

  “He’s coming. Wake up! We have to get out. Do you understand me?”

  “Who’s coming?” Naomi blinked open heavy eyes. “Kelsey? What is it?”

  “He’ll kill us! Get out of bed, goddammit!” She screamed again when Rich hurled his weight against the door. “Get out of bed!” Breath coming in hot gasps, she turned terrified eyes to the door. “It’s not going to hold. Sweet Jesus, it won’t hold. The gun. Do you still have the gun?”

  She babbled out little prayers as she clawed open the nightstand drawer. It was there, the chrome glinting in the moonlight.

  “What are you doing?” Sleepy and dazed, Naomi managed to fight her way through the mists to kneel in bed. “Good God, Kelsey, what are you doing? Who’s at the door?”

  But as the wood splintered, Kelsey stared straight ahead. She held the gun in both hands, struggling to keep it from slipping out of her shaking fingers.

  He burst in, blood glistening on his cheek. And saw only Naomi, kneeling in the bed with the thin silk gown sliding from her shoulders. His teeth flashed as he leaped forward. Kelsey felt the gun buck like a live thing, sending vibrations singing up to her shoulders.

  She never heard the shot.

  “Alec?” The wooziness floated over Naomi’s mind, sliding images of past and present.

  “It’s not Alec.” Kelsey heard her own voice, small with distance. “It’s Gabe’s father. I’ve killed Gabe’s father.”

  “Slater?” Half dreaming, Naomi crawled out of bed and, as she had done so many years ago, bent over a dead man. Mechanically she checked his pulse before straightening again. “Rich Slater?” Confused, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “What in God’s name is happening here?”

  “I killed him.” Kelsey dropped her arm, the gun dangling from her fingers.

  Naomi looked up into her daughter’s face. She recognized the shock, the disbelief, and the fear. She forced her trembling legs to move forward.

  “Sit down, Kelsey. That’s right, sit down.” She eased her gently onto the side of the bed. Nothing mattered now, nothing but Kelsey.

  “Let me have the gun. Okay.” Naomi set it aside for the moment. It would take no time at all to deal with it. “Put your head between your legs now and breathe.”

  “I can’t. I can’t breathe.”

  “Yes, you can. Slow and deep. That’s it, honey.” As Kelsey tried to obey, Naomi outlined her plan. “Now, I’m going to tell you what we’re going to do, and I want you to listen very carefully and do exactly, just exactly what I tell you. Understand?”

  “He was going to kill me, and you. He would have killed us both. But I killed him. I don’t remember pulling the trigger, but I must have.” Her teeth began to chatter. “Because I shot him.”

  “No, I shot him. Look at me.
Kelsey.” Gently, Naomi lifted Kelsey’s ravaged face. “Oh, God.” She shuddered, dug her nails into her palms until the pain cleared some of the shock. “Listen to me, baby. He broke in, and he . . .” She brushed at a cut on Kelsey’s cheek. “And he hurt you. So I got the gun, and I shot him.”

  “No, that’s wrong. I couldn’t wake you up.”

  “No, no, honey. I woke up when you came in. You came in here to get away from him. Then he broke down the door and I shot him. I’m going to call the police now, and that’s exactly what we’re going to tell them.”

  “I don’t”—Kelsey lifted a hand to her spinning head—“I don’t—” She jerked around and screamed at the sound of feet pounding up the stairs.

  “Jesus God.” Gabe took one look at his father, then stared at the two women huddled on the bed. “Kelsey!” In one leap he was crouched in front of her, holding her wounded hands. “He hurt you. Look at your face.” He jumped up, his eyes hard, deadly. “I’ll kill him myself.”

  “I already have,” Naomi said calmly. “Gabe, get her out of here. Take her to her room. I’ll call the police.”

  “I’m all right,” Kelsey insisted, but the room faded out as she pushed herself to her feet.

  “You just need to lie down.” Gabe picked her up. “I’ll take care of you.” He looked back at Naomi. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “Make her stay in there until I’ve finished this.” Naomi lifted the bedside phone.

  “He was just there,” Kelsey murmured, shivering as Gabe carried her to her room and laid her on the bed. “He was just there. He broke the horse.”

  “Just lie still.” He wanted to hold her. He wanted to crush something, someone into dust. Instead he whipped the bedspread over her. She was shaking badly, her pupils contracted to pinpoints with shock. And her face . . . Gabe’s hands balled helplessly at his sides. Her face was bruised and bleeding. He couldn’t think; just then he couldn’t allow himself to think that his own father had done that to her.

  He went quickly into the bathroom, dampened a washcloth, and filled a cup with water.