Triple Dare

by Candace Irvin

  Shadows swirled within her eyes. Her heart.

  Moments later, her bottom lip quivered. But it was several more minutes before her equally tremulous whisper followed. “I don’t th-think you can help me. If Stuart d-dies, I don’t think anyone can.”

  “Why not?”

  He felt her draw her breath in deep, her courage in even deeper. “Do you remember when Pike asked me if I knew why Stuart had been trying to contact me…and I said no?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I lied.”

  Chapter 5

  The moment the words tumbled out, Abby regretted them. After all, it was one thing to know Dare was innocent of the crimes that had happened tonight; it was quite another to confess to the man that she’d perjured herself to the detective. Fortunately, Dare hadn’t asked her to explain. Instead, he’d snapped his stare toward their cabdriver. His message had been clear. Don’t explain that loaded confession until they arrived home.

  Well, here they were.

  Abby glanced past Dare’s sleeve as the taxi stopped. The main entrance to the Tristan lay beyond. A moment later Dare was passing the driver a twenty, opening the taxi’s door and standing outside. What were the odds he’d let her plead exhaustion and escape to her apartment alone?

  She decided against waiting around to find out.

  She scrambled out of the cab as smoothly as her legs allowed and hurried across the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the reflexes Dare had honed as a result of his unusual hobbies stood the man in good stead, allowing him to slam the taxi’s door and catch up with her before the doorman could open the Tristan’s.

  Jerry grinned at the sight of the two of them together and tipped his hat. “Good evening, Ms. Pembroke. Mr. Sabura.”

  Despite everything that had happened that night, Abby managed to return the man’s smile. “Evening, Jerry. I keep telling you, it’s Abby.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His grin split wider as he followed them through the doors, showing off a set of blindingly white teeth that belied the man’s years. Once inside the lobby, the doorman’s smile faded. “Uh, sir?”

  Dare stopped. “Yes?”

  Jerry’s faded blue gaze shifted toward his station. “I have that item you requested.”

  Dare nodded, then turned back to her. “Hang on a sec, okay?” Both men headed for the station before she could answer.

  She should have escaped then.

  But she couldn’t.

  Other than Marlena, Dare was the only one who might believe her version of her breakup with Stuart. Lord knew Pike wouldn’t. Dare returned to her side all too quickly, slipping the key the doorman had handed him into his jacket pocket as he escorted her across the lobby to a waiting elevator. Abby had resigned herself to her fate as the doors closed. She had to tell someone. Preferably someone who would know what to do. If Dare didn’t, perhaps his father would. Besides, she had a bottle of Tylenol in her apartment. The least she could do after all he’d done for her was make sure he took two for his fever.

  Abby withdrew her keys from her purse as the elevator came to a stop. Moments later another door had opened and shut, this one to her apartment.

  “Have a seat, I’ll just be a moment.”

  She tossed her purse on the table by the intercom and took off across the dimly lit foyer before Dare could argue. Fortunately the man complied, heading for her couch as she made a beeline for her equally dim kitchen. By the time she’d returned to her living room with the pill bottle and a glass of water, Dare had switched the end-table lamp on low and removed his jacket and tie. He’d tossed both over the back of her armchair and stood staring at the painting hanging above her couch as she reached his side.

  Brian’s painting.

  “Your brother’s very good. He captured the Tristan and Jerry perfectly.”

  She nodded. “Brian’s work is—”

  Wait a minute. How did Dare know Brian had painted that? Surely the two hadn’t taken the time to discuss art while she was unconscious? Brian had initialed the lower left edge of the canvas. But as usual, her brother’s BP had ended up more as a cramped intricate swirl than as legible letters.

  She stared at Dare.

  He stared back.

  She finally lowered her gaze to the thin scar running along the outer edge of his cheek and down into the square of his jaw. A man stubborn enough to pursue whatever goal Dare had been pursuing while he’d earned that wasn’t going to cave beneath a simple stare from her, no matter how cool it was. She gave up and thrust the glass of water into his hand.

  “Here.”

  She shook out two extra-strength tablets and pushed those on him as well, pointedly waiting for him to swallow both before she capped the bottle and accepted the glass back. Abby turned to set both on the coffee table, stiffening as she spotted the still-open issue of Saucy. She’d forgotten to tuck the magazine away before she left for the symphony that evening. Even in this low light, there was no way Dare could have missed it. Not when the naked, muscular torso clinging to the sheer cliff in the article’s lead photograph was his. If your average picture was worth a thousand words, then that photo alone contained a million. And every one of them contradicted the information she’d gleaned about this man from secondhand gossip and biased police detectives alike.

  So which story was real?

  Which man?

  She already knew the answer. She’d discovered it for herself outside Avery Fisher Hall earlier that evening. She set the Tylenol and glass beside the magazine and turned to check Dare’s temperature.

  As expected, he tensed.

  “So how am I doing, nurse?”

  She smiled easily for the first time that night. “Much better.” Not only had his skin cooled since the station, he was no longer perspiring. “How do you feel?”

  “Better than you.”

  She couldn’t argue with the assessment. Nor did he have to be psychic to have made it. The tension simmering inside her, the flat-out fear—she couldn’t deny either. Pike had gotten his wish. She was afraid of Dare. But not of what he would do to her. She was afraid of what he would think. She dragged her breath in deep, then blew it out.

  It didn’t help.

  “Would you…like to have a seat? Coffee?” It seemed as good a stalling tactic as any.

  He shook his head. “No coffee. But I will sit.” Instead of claiming the armchair, Dare surprised her by not only joining her on the couch, but taking her hand in his. Either he’d gotten over his aversion to touching her, or he knew she wanted nothing more than to bolt from her apartment—and not because of him. She suspected it was the latter, especially when he squeezed her hand as gently as he had in the car.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  She would have, if she knew where the beginning was.

  At the moment all she could see was the end. That hulking thug. His hideously gleaming knife. She’d spent most of the evening trying to block the sight of both from her mind. But now, sitting here in the soft shadows of her living room, the memories slammed in. The dizziness returned with them, as did the nausea. She closed her eyes against it all.

  Especially the guilt.

  Dare’s low rumble filled her ears, steady and soothing. “It’s okay. Take it slow.”

  But it wasn’t okay. How could it ever be okay again? If she’d taken just one of those blasted phone calls, Stuart wouldn’t have been lying in wait for her. Her eyes began to burn. Her heart followed. The worst part was, she couldn’t even blame Katherine. Not really. Only herself.

  “Abby?”

  She purged her breath and just said it. “If Stuart dies…it’s my fault. Part of what I told Pike was true. I was avoiding him. But…I also know why Stuart wanted to contact me.” Shame seared in.

  Abby pushed it aside.

  If Dare could admit his sins, so could she. She drew strength from the thought, from him, and gathered the vestiges of her pride along with another set of memories she’d done her damnedest to block out. Only thi
s set had been forged a year ago, just days before she’d agreed to fill in on the Hampton String Quartet and escaped to Europe. But even with compassion radiating off Dare, or perhaps because of it, she couldn’t sit beside him while she recounted those sins.

  She stood, rounded her coffee table and faced Dare from the opposite side. “You said start at the beginning. I guess that would be when I discovered Stuart had been lying to me since the day we met. I’m not sure how much attention you pay to the inner workings of the city and its politics, but Stuart was running for councilman in the upcoming election.”

  If he survived.

  Fear snaked in, just as it had out on that street when she’d discovered Stuart had been attacked. Stuart might have turned out to be a jackass of the highest order, but she’d loved the man once. Until the night her illusions had come crashing down, she’d even entertained the idea of marriage and children. But even then, with the shock and the humiliation ricocheting through her, she hadn’t wanted the man dead.

  Abby crossed her arms to ward off the sudden chill that rippled down her flesh. “Anyway, Stuart hadn’t yet tossed his hat into the ring when we were dating, but he was already lining up contributions and backers. I know, because he began bringing me to the city’s round of pre-race political parties and dinners. That’s when it happened. His mother found out he was escorting someone not of his social class and cut her tour of France short. The day Katherine landed in New York she phoned and asked if I’d like to have dinner…without her son. She called it a ‘girls’ night in.’ You know, so we could get to know each other without Stuart around. Or so she claimed.”

  “In other words, the woman intended to warn you off.”

  Abby managed a nod.

  He sighed. “She succeeded.”

  “Nope. She bought me off.” She caught Dare’s stare and held it. Or perhaps he was holding hers. She couldn’t be sure. She did know that even in this low light, she could make out the odd torrent of emotions that had begun to churn through those shadowy pools. The anger and the pity—those she understood. But not the pain. She’d swear it was ripping through him as deeply as it had once ripped through her.

  But that was impossible.

  Unnerved, she forced herself to continue. “Katherine offered me a…choice. If I broke up with Stuart, I got a million dollars. If I didn’t, she’d use her vast social connections to kill my career with the Philharmonic and any other orchestra in the country that could afford me. I was stunned. Furious. Beyond insulted. Until she produced this tape. And then—” Her voice broke. Try as she might, she couldn’t finish it. But she could still feel it as if it had happened yesterday. The utter humiliation of it all. And darned if she didn’t believe that Dare could feel that, too.

  He stood. “What kind of tape? Video?”

  She shook her head. “Audio. It was one of those microcassettes…a recording of Stuart and his mother. It turned out they’d had lunch earlier, though I doubt Katherine told Stuart I’d be stopping by for dinner later. They did discuss me, however. Brian, too. His Down’s. Katherine was quite blunt with her objections, her description exceptionally vivid. Katherine was worried that my brother’s genetic stains would transfer to her son. Initially to Stuart’s budding political career and eventually to his future progeny. Her solution? Drop me immediately. Before either catastrophe had a chance to set. Stuart refused. But that just brought Katherine to dinner with the other half of the undesirable couple. Me.”

  Dare rounded the table, his fingers flexing at his sides as he stared down at her. She had the distinct impression he wanted to touch her. Hold her. How absurd was that?

  She wrapped her arms tighter about her chest.

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Wasn’t Katherine worried about the fallout to her son’s political career?”

  “You mean of dumping the retarded guy’s sister so close to declaring his candidacy?”

  This time Dare frowned. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes.”

  “Not really. Katherine admitted it was a risk. But it was one she was willing to take. She was too afraid that I would succeed in weaving my wicked spell around her son. Plus, she was positive there was enough time for Stuart to find a more suitable companion by the time the election heated up. Especially if I kept my mouth shut and convinced him that I was the one doing the dumping.”

  She paused to offer a bitter, glancing smile. “You see, it turned out I was well liked by Stuart’s main backer. The gentleman’s wife enjoyed my music. Not to mention Stuart was unwilling to give up the PC advantage of having a fiancée who had a brother with Down’s. Though he did agree with Katherine that it would never be more than that. He wasn’t willing to have his own children ‘stained.’ His exact words were, ‘Don’t worry, Mother. Once the election’s over, Abby and her brother will be out the door along with the placards and the rest of the trash.’”

  They were burned into her ears. Her heart.

  She caught Dare’s curse as she caved in to the tremors threatening her legs, rounding the coffee table so she could sink into the couch before they gave out altogether. She knew what he was thinking. Ever since Pike had splayed the file he’d started on her out on the table, she’d been thinking it, too. She had no doubt that once Pike started digging he’d soon discover that not only was Dare innocent of everything that had transpired tonight, he had no motive.

  But she did.

  It was a damned good thing Stuart Van Heusen was already in the hospital. It saved Dare the trouble of hunting the jackal down and putting him there himself. Either way, he’d be visiting the man the moment he regained consciousness. But until then, he had another bastard to deal with. Pike. The detective might not wield as much power and influence as Van Heusen did, but Pike was far more dangerous.

  Especially given the events of the night.

  Abby’s fears were correct. Her admission shed an entirely new light on the stabbings. Pike wouldn’t care that it was the wrong color. Not if it radiated from someone close to Dare.

  And Abby knew it.

  Dare hadn’t even needed his sense to discern that. He’d spotted the evidence with his eyes as Abby sank back into the couch. It was in that single, gut-wrenching tear. The tiny drop glistened in the lamplight, clinging to her lashes as she blinked. He could feel her desperately trying to keep it and the others behind it from slipping free. Eventually the heartache and the fear won. The tear slid down. Another followed, then another, until a gentle trickle formed.

  He had to clench his fingers to keep from reaching out to soothe the damp trail left behind and use his unearthly gift to ease the ache in her soul. He didn’t dare risk it. He’d already absorbed far more over the past several hours than he had in years. After the brownout he’d suffered at the station, he couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to pull back. Not with her. But when a second path of tears formed, the wave of desolation that came with it swamped him, because it was his.

  His restraint crumbled.

  He couldn’t have stopped himself from sinking down onto the couch beside her if Pike himself had chosen that moment to knock down her door with a dozen armed cops in tow. Before Dare had realized what he’d done, he’d reached out and trailed his fingertips up her cheek. He caught the tears and smoothed them from her silken flesh, transfixed as he watched the moisture soak into his own skin. Humbled beyond words as he felt the absolute beauty of her inner essence soak into his. He drew his breath in deep as their hearts began to mingle. Their souls followed.

  He knew she had no idea what was happening.

  Not really.

  To his relief, she didn’t pull away. Instead, her soft hiccup filled the shadows around them. “You m-must think I’m a horrible person for accepting that money.”

  How could he?

  He shook his head and caught a fresh tear. “Abby, you did it for your brother.”

  Her lashes flew wide. “How did you know—”

  “It’s in your face.” In your hea
rt.

  Yes, she’d taken the bribe. But she’d done it for one reason and one reason alone. Brian. Dare smoothed his fingers along her jaw, savoring the smooth, tactile warmth of her flesh, even as he waited for her lingering emotions to finish shading in the hues of the memory. If he hadn’t been seduced by this woman’s spirit the moment he’d first felt it, he’d have caved in right here and now.

  He dragged his gaze to her mouth, hypnotized by the flush staining the gentle bow of her lips. The longer he stared, the more he could feel and the deeper the connection became. Just as she had at the station, she felt it as well. Wanted it. And God help him, he wanted her, too. Temptation nudged him closer. So close, he could feel the wash of her breath teasing his mouth. Smell her soft, sweet scent. Taste the heady desire thrumming between them. His brain fogged. Before he realized what had happened, his heart had wrested control from his body and he leaned even closer.

  Her lashes fluttered down.

  A split second later, a sharp trill pierced the air.

  Just as they had in that interrogation room, they sprang apart. Only this time, it wasn’t Pike interrupting. It was the phone. Still as dazed as she, he followed her stare to the phone on the end table beside them. But the moment he spotted the name and number glowing softly in the caller ID window, the fog burned off.

  “Abby, you need to get that.”

  He stood as she nodded numbly. Already knowing what was about to happen. What she was about to learn.

  What he had been dreading.

  She retrieved the cordless receiver by the third trill and brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, Marlena.” A brief pause followed. The flush still staining her cheeks deepened. “No, Marlena, you didn’t wake me. I just got home. Is everything okay?”

  Dare didn’t wait for the answer. He was too busy heading for the kitchen to search for something to help ease Abby’s coming anguish. He already knew he couldn’t risk touching her again tonight. That call proved it. There was only one reason Marlena would be phoning at this hour on this night.