Born in Mystery

by Susan Kearney

  “This is a one-time offer.” Craig slid a ten-dollar bill out and offered it to Bob.

  Gran’s brother licked his dry lips. With a shaking hand swollen with arthritis, he reached for the cash. “I wouldn’t need this if she’d just give me the stock certificates.”

  Craig frowned. “What stock?”

  Gran groaned. “It’s a figment of his drunken imagination. If my son had owned stock, I would have cashed in the certificates long ago instead of spending years cleaning floors on my knees. And Bianca wouldn’t have had to work her way through law school.”

  “Law school?” Craig raised a brow.

  “I didn’t dream it up,” Bob insisted, but he was clearly more interested in the current offering than the old discussion.

  “I called Harry at the beginning of the semester,” Bianca admitted, “and asked him about the stock.” Gran’s head jerked in surprise. “You did?”

  “We were so short of money, and I was hoping . . . but Harry said there had never been any stock in my parents’ estate.”

  Bob paid no attention to the conversation. He staggered toward the money in Craig’s hand.

  Craig jerked back the bill—just out of reach. His tone was low, dangerously soft. “You aren’t coming back, are you, Bob?”

  Bob eyed him craftily. “For another ten in bus fare, I’ve got some people to see.”

  Craig folded the bill and placed the money in his shirt pocket, leaving a tempting corner hanging out. Bob’s eyes focused uncertainly on the pocket. Silence filled the room.

  Bob gave in first. “Well, I guess I could walk across town.”

  “You do that.” Craig reached for the bill and stepped to the door. Bob followed like a puppy offered a bone. After Bob left, Craig snapped the lock. “Call security and tell them not to admit him again.”

  Bianca released a pent-up breath. “We already have.”

  “He’s sneaky,” Gran added. “His usual modus operandi is to slip into the building while he flirts with one of the woman residents, holds open a door for her or helps carry a package.”

  The bell rang again, and Craig opened the door to admit the nurse sent by the agency. After Bianca assured herself the woman would take good care of Gran, she and Craig strolled to the parking lot.

  “Has your Uncle Bob ever been in trouble with the law?”

  “I don’t know.” Bianca donned a pair of sunglasses, unsure if she was protecting herself from the bright sunlight or Craig’s perceptive gaze. Resentful, she wondered if every male she’d ever known between the age of twelve and sixty had to come under scrutiny.

  Before leaving the building, she scanned the parking lot for anyone who appeared to be waiting. No one seemed to be lurking. While the stalker may not have traced her to Craig’s house, now that she was out, he could zero in on her again. Although she was careful to use various disguises when she called on Gran, she was always fearful the stalker could track her after her visit.

  The California sun beat down, surprisingly strong for a fall day. But no one except a couple exiting a minivan was venturing out in the heat, and they seemed more interested in making a beeline for the air-conditioned building than in Bianca’s departure.

  For a moment, her head spun with dizziness. She clutched Craig’s hand to steady herself.

  “What’s wrong?” Concern radiated from his voice. He grasped her elbow with one hand and leaned her against his side.

  “I’m just a little lightheaded.” Knowing Craig might forbid her to see Gran, Bianca didn’t mention her fear of the stalker following.

  “We should get you to a doctor.”

  “That’s not necessary. Going from the air-conditioning to the heat outside must have affected me. My hormones are changing as quickly as this weather.”

  He opened the car door for her, and she slid inside, grateful when he didn’t release his grip until she’d collapsed onto the seat. As soon as he started the engine, the cool air settled her, and she realized he was glancing over at her every other second with concern.

  “I’m okay. I’ve read that pregnant women often feel faint. Most of the time I feel normal. Sometimes I actually forget about the twins.”

  “I can’t forget.” He said the words with such a combination of tenderness, regret and expectancy that she suspected this pregnancy would be as hard on him as on her.

  “Raising children is a big step.” She teased him gently, surreptitiously looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following them. “You only have about eight more months to get ready.”

  He grimaced, and she realized she’d made a mistake to remind him how long they would be together, how long he had to protect her to keep his children safe. The air hummed with sudden tension. Conversation had suddenly become a high-wire act where she had to balance between survival and hunger for personal contact

  “How about we take a ride?” he asked.

  “Where?”

  He checked his watch and handed her his cell phone. “I want us to keep your dinner date with Kendrick.”

  Chapter Five

  “WHY ARE WE stopping to pick up take-out food when Kendrick invited you to dinner?” Craig asked, trying to keep how odd he thought she was acting out of his voice.

  Bianca’s low laugh tingled up his arm and warmed his blood. “I don’t like bowling alley food.”

  She tucked a bag steaming with the aroma of egg rolls, fried wontons and sautéed shrimp between them on the seat. As he inhaled the enticing aromas, his mouth watered.

  However, since meeting Bianca, all his senses seemed extraordinarily acute. As she shut her car door, the late-afternoon light shimmered off her latest wig, a rich chestnut cascade of curls that he longed to smooth away to explore the tantalizing mystery she’d hidden beneath.

  Discovering what she really looked like was becoming a minor obsession. An expert chameleon, she changed hair color and style, eyes and facial features with wigs, contacts and makeup. The longer he knew her, the more sides of her he discovered.

  She’d never mentioned law school. And he couldn’t help wondering what else he didn’t know about her.

  Today, her luminous skin glowed with a surface translucence that deepened to a creamy complexion, a hint of blush on her cheeks. Yesterday, he would have sworn she’d had a tan. He’d never noticed a slight almond-shaped slant to her eyes before and wondered if he’d never looked closely enough or if she’d emphasized the appealing outline with makeup. Her irises alternately turned light brown to hazel to a deep green, the color enhanced by contacts or maybe the reddish highlights of her unruly chestnut hair.

  Accustoming himself to the fascinating faces she showed to the world had become an engrossing part of his day, yet he was even more interested in knowing what drove her. One moment she was the caring granddaughter, the next a brazen motorcycle mama. And she’d attended law school. She had him off balance, intrigued and more interested than he cared to admit. Her former boyfriend had his curiosity pumped.

  He gave up the attempt to keep his tone neutral. “We’re eating at a bowling alley?”

  “Kendrick is a busy man. He’s always doing two or three things at once. Tonight, he’ll eat dinner, bowl and visit with me all at the same time. Since I’ve known him, he’s worked two, sometimes three, jobs.”

  “When does he write?”

  “At night. He usually coordinates odd occupations with his writing, claiming he’s getting paid to do his research. He chooses work related to whatever he’s writing.”

  Bianca spoke of her former boyfriend without bitterness, as if she admired the man’s ambition and talents. Still, he couldn’t forget the catch in her voice when she’d admitted her relationship with Kendrick lacked passion. After holding her in his arms, Craig knew she possessed a zest for life. She’d trembled against him, and her husky voice h
ad vibrated with a come-hither contralto.

  Had Kendrick blamed her for his own failings? Or was the man just too self-involved to give Bianca what she’d needed?

  He curled his fingers around the steering wheel then straightened them. Her past hurts didn’t matter. Her feelings made no difference to him.

  None whatsoever.

  So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He should concentrate on the stalker’s identity, keep his focus on protecting her to keep the babies safe. Nothing else should concern him.

  He forced his words back to business. “What kind of work does Kendrick use for reference material?”

  “His odd jobs are never glamorous. He’s a janitor on the night shift at newspapers or police stations. He claims the uniform makes him invisible and people say things they’d never reveal in an interview.”

  A man who wrote horror stories. A man who sneaked around at night. A man who hung around police stations. What better cover for a stalker?

  She must have glimpsed his suspicion. Annoyance flashed in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders. “I don’t care what the statistics say. Kendrick wouldn’t do this to me.”

  He saw no reason to argue, especially before he’d met the man. “What about your Uncle Bob?”

  As he turned off the freeway toward smoggy L.A., she snorted in derision, but he caught her carefully watching in the side mirror to make sure they hadn’t picked up a tail. “Uncle Bob’s primary interest is his next drink. Besides, in the past ten years, he hasn’t been sober long enough to ride a motorcycle.”

  Bianca took the bag of Chinese food onto her lap, and Craig turned into the lot of the bowling alley and parked. “Are you sure they’ll let you bring food inside?”

  She hesitated to leave the vehicle and watched a stranger who’d pulled into the lot right behind them. But when the man reached into the trunk and retrieved his bowling bag, she turned back to Craig as if her watchfulness was mere idle curiosity. “Kendrick has a special arrangement with the manager. He mentions the bowling alley in most of his books, and it’s good publicity.”

  They hurried inside to be greeted by the sounds of balls rolling and bumping down the alleys, some striking pins, others slamming into the gutters with jarring thuds. A teenage league had spread over half the lanes while others were reserved for walk-ins like themselves.

  Frowning at the smoke and the music blaring from the jukebox beside the pinball machines and pool tables, Craig longed for the crisp, quiet air of the Pacific, yet he was anxious to meet Bianca’s old boyfriend.

  “We need to rent shoes,” Bianca suggested.

  Craig shook his head. “This isn’t a date. I just want to ask the guy some questions.”

  “Kendrick will be more relaxed if we throw a few balls.”

  Her former boyfriend sounded like quite a character, and he wasn’t sure if he approved of the obvious fondness in her tone when she spoke of him. Several minutes later, after he met the man, Craig’s mind filled with sour thoughts. He’d expected a squirrelly nerd behind horn-rimmed glasses. Kendrick was a muscular five foot eleven with thick black hair, a clean-cut smile and a surfer’s tan.

  The men shook hands, and Craig noted Kendrick’s strong grip and his head-to-toe evaluation of Bianca’s escort. From Bianca’s remarks about Kendrick’s self-absorption, he hadn’t expected her ex-boyfriend to size him up. His possessive attitude caused Craig to wonder if perhaps Bianca’s other perceptions were off as well. Was Kendrick more upset about the breakup than she realized? Did he want her back?

  Telling himself he needed additional answers about Kendrick’s feelings for Bianca, Craig deliberately sat close beside her and casually looped his arm over her shoulder. Kendrick’s eyes widened, and his lips twitched in neither smile nor grimace, making him hard to read.

  Bianca handed Kendrick the bag of food. “We brought dinner.”

  Unreasonably irritated that she’d given their food to Kendrick, Craig masked his annoyance.

  Kendrick reached into the bag of food and helped himself to an egg roll. After taking a huge bite, he set it down, ambled to his bowling ball and finished the last frame of his game. Without glancing in their direction, he gulped down the rest of his egg roll while updating the automatic computerized scoring system.

  Bianca removed the rest of the food from the bag, the green in her eyes brightening with interest as she glanced at Kendrick. “So what’s your exciting news?”

  What would it take to get her to be as interested in Craig’s business?

  Kendrick’s chest puffed at her question. “I’m finally going to produce a movie—co-produce, actually.”

  Craig dipped an egg roll into sweet and sour sauce and paused with the food on the way to his mouth. Annoyance had reduced his appetite. Didn’t Kendrick have anyone else to celebrate his good fortunes with besides Bianca?

  Forcing enthusiasm into his voice, Craig tried to look impressed. “Congratulations.”

  Bianca’s eyes shone. “That’s wonderful! You’ve worked so hard for this opportunity. Tell us about the movie.”

  At her enthusiasm over Kendrick’s accomplishment, Craig bit into his egg roll so hard his jaw ached.

  “I sneaked in the back door. When Ron Kilmar wanted to buy the movie rights to my book—”

  “Ron Kilmar?” Bianca broke in, her voice rising with excitement.

  Even Craig recognized the name as one of the biggest in Hollywood. So not only was her boyfriend attractive and famous, now he would most likely become even wealthier. He almost choked on his egg roll at the realization he was jealous, not of Kendrick’s success, but of Bianca’s high regard for the other man.

  Luckily, she had a prior obligation to him. With Bianca pregnant with his children, she was unable to take up where she’d left off with Kendrick. Satisfaction coursed through him, but he couldn’t help wondering if she was sorry she’d agreed to be a surrogate.

  “. . . and as part of the deal, I insisted on co-producing.”

  Kendrick knew how to use leverage all right, but Craig, overriding his jealousy, couldn’t fault him for fulfilling a lifelong ambition. In his own import-export business the proper use of leverage often made the difference between average earnings or huge success. Timing and courage plus knowing when to go for maximum profits took sharp instincts.

  Clearly, the writer was talented in his field. Craig had learned that his books often made the New York Times bestsellers list. For him to have secured the title of co-producer showed he had the clout and the business savvy to make the most of his publishing success.

  Craig should have had more faith in Bianca’s judgment. Despite his irritation with the man’s boasting, he realized many women would consider Kendrick husband material.

  With Bianca beside Craig, Kendrick’s excluding Craig from the conversation might be accidental. However, Kendrick’s refusal to glance Craig’s way since his initial appraisal struck Craig as odd. And telling. Perhaps the jealousy went two ways. After all, Craig had invited himself on their date.

  Niggling suspicions remained about Kendrick’s feelings toward Bianca. Why hadn’t Kendrick commented on her appearance? Why hadn’t he asked about her? Or about why she’d brought another man to what he must have thought of as a date?

  “Which book are you filming?” Bianca asked, then held up her hand. “No wait. Let me guess. Blood Lust was always my favorite.”

  Craig wasn’t a horror fan, and he fought a frown at the distasteful title. “Blood Lust?”

  Kendrick ignored him and the censure in his tone. “That’s the one. We’re casting next week. Kilmar already has several big stars angling for the lead.” Bianca scooped some shrimp and fried veggies onto plates and handed each of them dinner before turning to Craig. “Blood Lust is about a woman whose husband never returned from a secret CIA mission. As she seeks th
e reason for her husband’s death, she terrorizes each person in different ways, preying on their weaknesses until they break.”

  Kendrick paced and talked as he ate. “We have a hundred-million dollar budget, which means the special-effects people can go all out. Kilmar already has marketing working on a dynamite ad campaign. ‘Entertainment Tonight’ wants an interview, but my agent is stalling until I move into a new place.”

  As Bianca’s smile clearly indicated her pleasure over Kendrick’s success, Craig’s inherent dislike of the man escalated. Even her tone softened. “Sounds like you’re on your way, Kendrick. I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be able to say you knew me when I was a jerk. Come back, Bianca. We could be good together. I’ll be able to treat you in style.”

  Stunned, outraged, Craig stopped chewing. Kendrick had apologized, asked her to come back and tried to bribe her all without missing a bite of his egg roll. Had the man no manners or sensitivity? Didn’t he realize some conversations should be held in private?

  Bianca tensed then chuckled, apparently accustomed to dealing with his brusque demeanor. “You’ll be so wrapped up in your movie, you won’t notice whether I’m there or not. When’s your next book due?”

  At her refusal of Kendrick’s offer, Craig’s defenses subsided, and relief washed away some of his tension. His mood lightened as she smoothly turned the conversation from the personal back to Kendrick, who was more than happy to talk about his work. The self-absorbed writer-producer seemed unaware she hadn’t answered his plea.

  Kendrick picked up his bowling ball and took the left lane. “I’ve stopped writing books. However, turning in my screenplay on time will be a tight squeeze. At least the story comes almost straight from my first book.” He walked smoothly down the lane, never breaking stride as he spoke nonstop, finally releasing the ball in one practiced motion. “I just haven’t figured out yet when the villain should kill the fetus.”

  Craig’s stomach lurched. Bianca’s face turned white until her eyes were two large green pools of fear. Her lips tightened as if holding back her repugnance.