by Bonnie Vanak
Cooper didn’t want to let Meg out of his sight. It seemed too convenient that her ex had found her so easily, but one thing was certain. The series of disturbing incidents was aimed to deeply rattle or hurt Meg.
He checked all the security cameras, but saw only the staff and guests on the grounds. The river, though, was an unprotected area. Cooper vowed to never let Meg ride alone again. It was too risky.
Most troubling was the idea that his family was involved. His mother told him her cell phone had gone missing that afternoon. They searched the entire inn, and the staff searched the barn and grounds.
Nothing.
But later that night while Meg watched a movie with his mother and sister, he headed out of the inn to patrol the perimeter. Fiona’s cell phone was sitting on the hallway table.
Cooper picked it up, checked it. Maybe someone had found it and placed it there for Fiona.
Or someone had stolen it to lure him away from Meg.
A noise sounded in the living room behind him. He whirled and saw a woman quickly head for the stairs.
Cooper caught up to her. “Hey!”
The woman turned. Jenny, the new live-in housekeeper, the same one who’d admitted to being in the cottage. She kept her gaze focused downward. “Sir? Do you need something? I was returning to my room.”
He held out the phone. “Did you put this on the table?”
A head shake.
“Did you see anyone who put it there?”
Another head shake. “I—I have to go now.”
“No. You’re staying here until I get answers.” Cooper softened his voice, but he wasn’t letting her get away so easily. Not with Meg’s life at stake.
He questioned her for a good ten minutes, but Jenny kept shaking her head and stammering she didn’t know anything.
Finally, he told her to return to work. Jenny fled up the stairs as if the ghost of Cooper’s grandfather, rumored to haunt the inn, chased her.
Was Jenny playing these tricks on Meg and her fear was all an act? Was she conspiring to frighten Meg, get her to run? If so, why?
He wasn’t certain. But Cooper knew one thing. If Jenny was guilty, sooner or later he would catch her in the act.
* * *
“Do you think I saw my ex?”
The question, asked over dinner in the cottage the next day, made Cooper pause. He lowered his fork onto the table.
“I believe you think you saw him. That’s good enough for me to take extra precautions.”
Still shaken over seeing a shadowy figure who could have been her ex, Meg could barely enjoy the delicious meal Fiona prepared for them at the cottage. She’d spent the entire day glued to Cooper’s side as he went about his work.
The fried fish smelled delightful and the buttered potatoes were thick and sprinkled with freshly grated cheese, but her stomach roiled.
“What kind of precautions? A tank would suffice.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “I can pull some strings, but that’s a little excessive.”
“True. And a tank wouldn’t blend in with the pretty scenery.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I could paint it orange and red, though. Fall colors. Your mom could put baskets of hanging flowers on the turret.”
Cooper laughed. She enjoyed his hearty, deep laugh. It made the little knot of anxiety in her stomach loosen. “I was thinking more of motion detectors outside by the barn, and extra security lights.”
Meg sipped her cup of tea. She hated that he had to go through this extra trouble just for her. Cooper and his family had shown her hospitality, and she felt safe here, until yesterday.
Prescott was a ruthless monster. She suspected he had killed Randall and would stop at nothing until he had her at his mercy again. Sweat dampened the palms of her hands, and her pulse became erratic. Prescott had power and money, and used both to get what he wanted. And if Randall had confessed the plan to give her the documents and cash to start a new life, Prescott would redouble his efforts to find her.
Stop her.
With a bullet to her head this time, instead of his fists.
“Meg, you okay? You’re not eating.”
Toying with her spoon, she waited a minute before answering. “Just woolgathering. I wish I had the money to give you for the extra security.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “Been meaning to do this for a while. Never got around to it.”
“Maybe there’s something else you can help me out with. Something you can do that involves your talents as a SEAL.”
His gaze turned thoughtful. Assessing. The man wasn’t easy to fool. Sweat trickled down her back.
“Maybe. Tell me something though, Meg. Why did you want to come here? You could have requested a safe house farther west. Jarrett has a few in place.”
She chose to tell a partial truth. “I grew up not far from here. My grandmother’s farm is in northern Massachusetts.” She helped herself to another turnover. “This smells delicious.”
“Do you have access to any cash, Meg? The agency can wire some for you to start a new life.”
I won’t need much cash in prison.
“I can manage.”
“Meg, where was your ex when you left Palm Beach?”
More questions. She grew even more nervous. “On a business trip to Boston.”
Cooper blinked. “Boston? For what?”
“I don’t know. He never told me why he traveled. Lately he’s been gone more than home, which was why I planned to run when I did. I had to make sure I had enough time to escape with Sophie before he returned.”
“Right. So let’s get back to my talents as a SEAL. What aspect of my training are you interested in? Diving in cold water?”
She wasn’t quite ready to share everything she needed. “Maybe.”
The evasive answer didn’t satisfy him. He held her gaze as he drank more of his hot tea. “Where do you want me to dive? What do you need me to find?”
She didn’t want to talk anymore about it. Maybe tomorrow. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired of all these questions.”
They finished and cleaned up. Meg headed to the living room, staring at the fire. She didn’t want to think about her ex, or her life in Palm Beach, which had been filled with hollow misery.
Cooper joined her. He touched her hand, his calloused fingers reassuring and firm.
“You’re trembling,” he said gently.
“It’s been—” she gave a little laugh “—a little rough. I had hoped I’d never face Prescott again, except perhaps in court.”
“He’s not going to get near you. I promise.”
She turned to him, letting all her feelings show. “Thank you. I feel safe with you.”
Meg parted her mouth as his gaze grew intent. Cooper stared at her lips. He was going to kiss her. And this time, she’d let him do it.
Heat and desire spiraled in those intense blue irises, and determination etched his rugged features. Meg felt exhilarated and breathless as he drew closer. Her heart skipped a beat and all her female parts sat up and paid close attention.
Real close attention.
As he dipped his head down, she closed her eyes. Soft, firm lips brushed over hers, the sensations rushing through her. Arousal and need twined together like snakes as he feathered his mouth across her trembling lips. Light and airy, not punishing, not rough.
Almost as if he asked for permission.
Meg parted her lips on a sigh and lightly flicked her tongue across his mouth, giving him what he requested.
Cooper curled his right hand around her head, drawing her closer. His left hand slid around her waist and began stroking her back in calming caresses, like she’d seen him do to Adela when the mare got nervous.
She kissed him back as he deepened his hold on her, and she slid her arms around him to anchor herself. Giddy with the taste of him slipping deep into her mouth, Meg teased him back as he moved his mouth expertly over hers. Slow, yet demanding. Giving and letting her take, letting her set the pace.
Leather and sage, the scent of his aftershave wove through her senses. Cooper delivered the right amount of pressure on her mouth, subtle and yet authoritative enough to let her know he was in charge. But he didn’t mash his mouth against hers, and he made no move to grope her. His hands on her were assured and firm, yet she sensed the moment she wanted out, he’d release her.
She didn’t want to be released. Meg wanted to stay here a long time, basking in the way he lightly nipped her lower lip, then ran his tongue over it in a gentle stroke. Emboldened, she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth.
Held tight against the hard heat of his body, she felt another hardness at his groin. Old instinct urged her to struggle and try to escape, but her female hormones sang a different tune. This was a man who wouldn’t hurt her. Every bone in her body sensed this. He would die before raising a hand to strike her.
Perhaps even die fighting to keep her safe from others who did. Cooper Johnson was a Navy SEAL who had sacrificed much for his country, and his code of honor extended far beyond his military service.
In the end, he broke the kiss, drawing in a deep sigh, the blue of his gaze darkened. Trembling, Meg stared up at him, licking her lips.
He pressed a finger against her wet mouth.
“Don’t do that. Makes me want to kiss you all over again.”
“What’s stopping you?”
A rueful grin touched his own mouth. Cooper tugged at the jeans that obviously felt too tight. “A certain something that’s urging me to do more than kiss you.”
Disappointment speared her. “Maybe I’m wanting to do more than kiss, too.”
“You’re not ready yet, Princess.”
Not ready, when every hormone in her body was singing a chorus of let’s get naked now? Scowling, she narrowed her eyes. “And what makes you such an expert at telling me whether or not I’m ready to make love?”
“You’re afraid. I still see it in your eyes now and then. You can’t let go yet of that fear.”
Cooper leaned forward suddenly and she flinched out of instinct. He sighed and then gently touched her wobbling mouth. “I would never hurt you, Meg.”
Throat tight with emotion, she nodded. “I know. It’s just...”
Cooper was a big man, and she’d seen him heft a bale of hay as if it were a sack of potatoes. But he’d been gentle with her, not rough. Ashamed of her response, she went to turn away, but he put his hands on her shoulders, staying her. When she looked up at him, his expression was intent.
“You’ve been through hell, darling, and when someone has been there, it takes a while to pick up all the shattered pieces. Just like an animal who’s been mistreated, you’ll learn to trust again and believe in kindness. One day at a time.”
“One day at a time,” she echoed. “Will it ever get better, Cooper? Will I ever reach that point where I can move past this ugly thing that was part of my life?”
His touch was whisper-soft on her lips, and his body relaxed. “You’ll know when the time is right,” he said softly. “And when it is, I’ll be here.”
For a few moments they sat in silence, and then he gave a rough laugh. “If we stay here, I’ll finish what I started. Let’s go to the inn and play Scrabble. We can rustle up Aimee and Mom. Mom’s killer at the game.”
“Scrabble sounds perfect.”
As they walked to the inn, he told her his suspicions about Jenny taking his mother’s cell phone and how he’d questioned her, but Jenny admitted to nothing. Meg wondered. She sensed something about the shy housekeeper that resonated with her.
One of the guests as well could be responsible for her torn sweater, the rose and the nasty card. The cottage lock had been easy to tamper with, and Prescott had many accomplices.
“We should check out the background of all the guests,” she told Cooper. Meg explained about the silent photographer. “It might have been one of them.”
“Mom keeps records of where they’re from because she likes to make them feel welcome. I’ll ask for the files and we can look them over.”
Hand on the small of her back, making her feel secure, Cooper escorted her into the large downstairs room that had been converted into the family’s private living room. A fire crackled on the stone hearth and Fiona sat on an overstuffed leather chair by the fire, reading a paperback. She glanced up with a smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d engage Meg with a good game of Scrabble. First, I need the files of the current guests. I need to know all you know about them.” He frowned. “Has Richard Kimball returned yet?”
Fiona shut her paperback, looking troubled. “Not yet. I’ll get those files for you right away.”
Cooper followed his mother as Meg remained. Her appreciative gaze swept over the flowered wallpaper and the bookcases flanking the fireplace. It was her first time here, and she liked the cozy warmth of the living room. It felt like home.
A large oil painting hung over the mantel.
Fiona and an older man, obviously her husband. Cooper stood behind his mother, looking like a typical rebellious and cocky teenager. A brown-haired girl, flashing a shy smile, stood between him and an older, dark-haired teenager with rugged good looks. Brie and Derek.
There was something about the girl that bothered Meg, but she couldn’t figure it out. Not until she saw another photograph on an end table of a woman wearing a police uniform.
Her blood turned to ice. She had seen this particular photo before, in the newspapers. Had memorized each inch of it, the woman’s smile frozen in her memory.
Cooper returned, carrying a manila folder. “We can look this over later.”
Meg forced herself to speak.
“Was your sister’s name Brie Johnson?”
“Brie was her nickname. Her birth name was Sabrina, but she always said it was too prissy, so we called her Brie. She kept her married name of Fletcher even after the divorce, much as we tried to convince her to drop it.”
Meg’s blood turned to ice. Sabrina Fletcher, the female police officer killed in the line of duty while wearing body armor manufactured by Combat Gear Inc. Meg’s company.
She had killed Cooper’s sister.
Chapter 12
She had to tell them the truth. Cooper’s family deserved to know.
Meg swallowed hard. She liked this family, and most of all, she liked Cooper and his quiet air of confidence and how safe she felt with him. And now she stood to blow the fragile relationships she’d forged sky-high with the news that she was responsible for their beloved Brie’s death.
But it must be done. Several minutes after seeing the photo, Meg gripped her hands in her lap, facing them on the sofa from her perch on the wing chair.
“I asked you here because I have something I must share with you. Something very important that has to do with Brie’s death.”
Sometimes it was easier to blurt out the truth instead of waiting. Cooper’s expression turned from concerned to guarded, while Fiona merely looked confused.
This was going to hurt them badly.
“Brie, your Sabrina, died from a bullet wound to the chest because the body armor she wore was defective.”
“Yes.” Cooper’s gaze met hers. “It was manufactured, far as I can tell, by Combat Gear Inc.”
“Yes. Faulty body armor manufactured by that company.” Meg squeezed her hands tighter. “A company that I own, legally, and I founded with my trust fund. I am responsible for Sabrina’s death.”
For a moment only the sounds of the
pretty ormolu clock over the mantel sounded. A muscle ticked wildly in Cooper’s tight jaw.
“I don’t understand. You own the company that made that vest that killed my daughter?”
Meg nodded.
Nothing prepared her for the stark fury in Cooper’s eyes, the way he squeezed his fists together as if he longed to take a swing in her direction...
Punch her hard, like her ex used to.
“I’m so sorry,” Meg whispered. “I am so sorry.”
Sorry was a useless word when facing two stricken, deeply grieving people. Cooper swore softly and then walked over to his mother and squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be back.”
He left the room, not looking at Meg. Misery curled through her. She gripped her hands tightly.
“I am so sorry, Fiona. I didn’t realize Sabrina—Brie—was your daughter. I wouldn’t have hidden this from you, and I told you soon as I found out. I tried to get the vests recalled, and I did call the authorities to alert them, but it was too late for Brie. I’ll pack my things and call a cab and be gone from here. I don’t wish to upset you or your family any further.”
As she started to rise, Fiona called out in a strong, clear voice, “Wait.”
Meg waited.
“I want to know one thing. Did you deliberately send out those vests for sale, knowing the material was defective?”
Meg shrugged. “My name is on the corporate documents and I’m ultimately responsible.”
“Answer me,” Fiona ordered.
Startled, Meg shook her head. “I didn’t know. My grandmother was ill, and I was tending to her. By the time I found out what Prescott had done, it was too late. The vests had already been sold.”
“Prescott. Your husband.”
“Soon to be ex-husband. But that doesn’t make me innocent.” Meg took a deep breath. “I am responsible for what happens in my company. I am CEO of Combat Gear Inc.”
“So stop being a martyr to that fact.”
Meg slipped into the icy cadence she used in Palm Beach when dealing with reporters and other busybodies who nosed around for gossip. “Are you suggesting, Fiona, that this is not my responsibility? I am accountable for what happened, and I am prepared to deliver evidence that will send the guilty parties to prison for what they have done. I will turn myself over to authorities, but I can’t remain here with all of you. It’s impossible, and you really don’t want me here after what I told you.”