by Kylie Brant
"Rappaport arranged for the accident that killed his own wife?" Tori sounded horrified. "So it wasn't really your parents he was trying to kill?"
"You and I were on the right track when we hacked into those databases for the insurance companies," James told her. "I just didn't look far enough. Didn't even consider it seriously until Cade learned that one of the calls to the bomber's cell phone had come from Tremaine Technologies." He shook his head. "I don't know. I had a flash of that image of Marcus and Tucker arguing, and decided to give the database another go. Lucy Rappaport wasn't from Louisiana originally. She was from Mississippi. Her elderly ailing parents had fully paid for a million-dollar policy on her when she was a teenager. Since they were dead, that money went to Marcus upon her death."
"First, though, he'd tried to get money by arranging my kidnapping," Ana put in. "When that was foiled before the ransom was paid, he came up with another idea."
Tori shook her head uncomprehendingly. "But why? Just for the money? Was he really that cold?"
"Dale hit on it when I talked to him yesterday." James sent a thumb skating over her knuckles and focused on the relief of having her safe. "Marcus had gambling problems, and apparently still does. At least that's what the Nevada Gaming Commission says. He'd been banned from Nevada nearly ten years ago. Apparently he began going to Europe after that." Certainly he'd have had plenty of opportunity. Tremaine Technologies competed for projects all over the world.
"Well, going after you wasn't about the money," Tori said to James shrewdly. "Unless a third party was in the mix."
He grinned. She really did have the most fascinating mind. "You're quick. We don't have it nailed down yet, but we think Beal was willing to pay him a fortune to make sure I wasn't awarded the next Pentagon contract. Of course, we can't prove it yet."
"That's only a matter of time," Cade put in. "We'll pore over his phone records, trace financial transactions… I doubt it's the first time he's teamed up with Beal. Hell, for all we know, they could have planned our parents' accident together. Whatever connection they had, though, we'll trace it."
"Two people, at least, would be alive today if Tucker had just come forward with what he'd discovered," Tori said softly.
James squeezed her fingers lightly. He knew she was still haunted by Corday's homicide. "Tucker thought he could scare me into backing off the contract, which, to his mind at least, would keep me safe until he could figure out what to do about his father. He should have gone to the police. But regardless of what you discover about your parent, it's hard to turn your back on them. No matter what they've done."
Tori turned her face away, the words like sharp little arrows, nicking her heart. All the trauma of the last several hours paled in comparison to the discovery she'd made about her father.
"Okay, everybody out," ordered Shae. "Tori needs to rest. And most of you have your own rooms to go to."
One by one the family filed out, amid much good-natured bickering over whose room they were going to take up residence in next. When James closed the door behind the last of them, Tori drew in a deep breath, struggled to find the words. "You were right about my dad." They came in a rush, amidst a jumble of pain. "I found some letters he and my mother wrote to each other before she died. I think … I'm almost certain, they refer to you and your parents' accident."
"I know." Her gaze flew to his, incredulous. "It was in the files Tucker found."
The pain seized her heart again, gripped hard. "I don't know how to reconcile the man I knew with the one who betrayed you." Her eyes burned. She had no tears to shed, but her heart still wept. "I can't imagine what might have been different, if he'd told you the truth about the tracking device."
James lifted her chin with his finger, turned it toward him. "Honey, Marcus was following that investigation every step of the way. He managed the accident pretty much as we figured, and he knew about the P.I. I'd hired. He'd planted the tracking device in Lucy's purse, figuring he'd receive it back as her personal effects. But when it wasn't there, he knew immediately your dad must have discovered it. That fire that destroyed his offices twenty years ago? Marcus set it. And then he threatened yours and your mother's lives. Your father did what he thought he had to in order to protect the two of you."
You were faced with an awful choice… The line from the letter came back to her, and she released a shaky breath. "I don't know what to think. I'd like to think there was a better way."
"Maybe there was." His bright-blue gaze was intense. "But it doesn't affect us, either way, Tori. Some of the answers we found were painful as hell, but at least we have answers. It's time to move on."
The words seemed curiously significant. She tried to slide her fingers from his grasp, only to have them gripped tighter. "You're right. About moving on, I mean. Neither of us expected this … what happened between us. We can't let it change anything."
He reached out to smooth a strand of hair back from her face. "Sometimes the unexpected can be the most satisfying. There's more here, Tori, than either of us looked for. I can't walk away from it. I don't think you can, either."
There was a wild leaping in her chest, but she quelled it sternly. Experience had etched a bitter brand, and she couldn't forget its burn. "I've tried living in your world before. I didn't fit there. We can't change who we are, even if we wanted to."
Her efforts at logic were rewarded with a bruising kiss. When he lifted his head, he muttered, "The hell with that. We'll make our own world, where we both fit. And changing isn't an option. Are you going to keep hiding behind excuses, or are you finally going to admit that you love me?" He seemed to enjoy the way her mouth dropped open at the words. Taking the opportunity, he pressed a soft, nibbling kiss to it. "That you can't live without me."
Her arms linked around his neck of their own accord. There was a glint in his eye, a smoky heat. But it was the softness in his expression that shattered defenses she had once thought stouter. Stronger. "I do. Love you, I mean. And the thought of living without you makes me miserable."
"You'll never have to worry about that." He brushed his lips over her brow, her eye, her jaw. "I started falling for you the moment I saw you with your head stuck in the ceiling tile. I have every intention of living with you, loving you, for the next sixty years or so."
She smiled, her heart full. Sixty years was a lifetime. And that sounded about right to her.
* * * * *