by Joanne Rock
Still, she needed to pull herself together.
“For what it’s worth, that’s obviously not a recent photo,” Miles offered, his hands trailing down her arms to her hands where he found the puzzle piece she was still holding. He set it back on the counter. “I’m not sure where someone would have gotten ahold of it, but—”
“Social media,” she supplied, thinking she really needed to get back online and start scouring her pages to see what was happening. Jules had to be wondering why Chiara had only wanted to talk to Miles. “It looks like a selfie. My guess is your old girlfriend has it stored on one of her profiles.”
“Makes sense.” He nodded, straightening, his touch falling away from her. “But I was going to say that I haven’t seen Brianna Billings in years, so I’m sure she wouldn’t be sending you anonymous threats.”
Not wanting to discuss the woman in the photo, or the feelings it stirred, Chiara stared out the window behind Miles’s head and watched the snowfall as she turned the conversation in another direction.
“So if we rule out you and your ex for suspects in hacking the page,” she continued, knowing she sounded stiff. Brusque. “Who else should we look at? I’ll call the police again, of course, but they’ll ask us who we think might be responsible. And personally, I think it’s got to be one of your partners at Mesa Falls. One of Zach’s former friends.”
“No.” He shook his head resolutely and stood, then walked over to the double refrigerator doors and pulled out a bottle of water. He set it on the island before retrieving two glasses. “It can’t be.”
She didn’t appreciate how quickly he wrote off her idea. Especially when her feelings were already stirred up disproportionately at seeing a different side of Miles in that photo. She felt Miles pulling away. Sensed it was all plummeting downhill between them, but she didn’t have a clue how to stop things from going off the rails.
“Who else would be tracking my efforts to find out what happened to Zach, and would know about your past, too?” she asked him sharply. “I’m not the common denominator in that equation. It’s the Mesa Falls group.”
“It’s someone trying to scare you away from looking into Zach’s past. Maybe Nicole Cruz?” he mused aloud as he filled the two glasses of water. Although as soon as he said it, he glanced up at her, and she could have sworn she saw a shadow cross through his eyes.
Then again, she was feeling prickly. She tried to let go of the hurt feelings while he returned the water bottle to the stainless steel refrigerator. Frustration and hurt were going to help her get to the bottom of this.
“It could be whoever fathered the mystery child,” she pressed, wondering about the DNA evidence. “Once we know who the father is—”
“It’s none of us,” Miles answered with a slow shake of his head. He set a glass of water in front of her as he returned to the seat beside her.
His answer sounded certain. As if he knew it for a fact. But she guessed that was just his way of willing it to be the truth.
“We’ll only know that for sure once the test results come in,” she reminded him before taking a sip of her drink.
“They already have. All of the Mesa Falls partners have been cleared of paternity, along with Alonzo Salazar, courtesy of DNA provided by his sons.” Miles’s fingers tightened around his glass.
Surprised, Chiara set hers back down with a thud, sloshing some over the rim.
“How long have you known?” she asked, her nerve endings tingling belatedly with uneasiness.
“Desmond texted me early this morning.”
“And just when were you going to tell me?” She knew logically that not much time had passed. But she’d been waiting half of a lifetime for answers about Zach. And damn it, she’d spent her whole life being in the dark because of other people’s secrets. Her family’s. Zach’s friends’. Even, she had to admit, Zach’s.
Indignation burned. Her heart pounded faster, her body recognizing the physical symptoms of betrayal. Of secrets hidden.
“Soon,” Miles started vaguely, not meeting her eyes. “I just didn’t want—”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t want.” She stood up in a hurry, needing to put distance between herself and this man who’d slid past her defenses without her knowing. She didn’t have the resources to argue with him when her heart hurt, and she’d be damned if she’d let him crush more of the feelings she’d never meant to have for him.
She needed to get her coat so she could go talk to Jules and focus on her career instead of a man who would never trust her. More than that, she needed to get out of the same town as him. Out of the same state.
There was no reason to linger here any longer. The time had come to return home, back to her own life in Los Angeles.
“Chiara, wait.” Miles cut her off, inserting himself in her path, though he didn’t touch her.
“I can’t do secrets, Miles,” she said tightly, betrayal stinging. And disillusionment. And anger at herself. “I’m sure that sounds hypocritical after the way I searched your computer that night—”
“It doesn’t.” He looked so damned good in his jeans and soft gray sweater, his jaw bristly and unshaven. “I know trust comes hard for you.”
“For you, too, it seems.” She folded her arms to keep herself from touching him. If only the want could be so easily held at bay.
“Yes. For me, too,” he acknowledged.
She waited for a long moment. Waited. And heaven help her, even hoped. Just a little. But he said nothing more.
Tears burning her eyes, she sidestepped him to reach for her coat.
“I’m going to be working the rest of the day,” she informed him, holding herself very straight in an effort to keep herself together. Her heart ached. “I’ll head back to LA tomorrow. But for tonight, I think it would be best if you weren’t here when I return.”
Miles didn’t argue. He only nodded. He didn’t even bother to fight for her.
Once she had her boots and coat on, she shoved through the door and stepped out into the snow. Some wistful part of her thought she heard a softly spoken, “Don’t go” from behind her. But she knew it was just the foolish wish of a heart broken before she’d even realized she’d fallen in love.
Twelve
Three days later, gritty-eyed despite rising late, Miles prowled Desmond’s casino floor at noon. Navigating the path to Desmond’s office through a maze of roulette wheels, blackjack tables and slot machines, he cursed the marketing wisdom that demanded casino guests walk through the games every time they wanted to access hotel amenities.
No doubt the setup netted Desmond big profits, but the last thing Miles wanted to see after Chiara’s defection was a tower of lights blinking “jackpot!” accompanied by a chorus of electronic enthusiasm. A herd of touristy-looking players gathered around the machine to celebrate their good fortune, while Miles suspected he’d never feel lucky again.
Not after losing the most incredible woman he’d ever met just two weeks after finding her. He’d surely set a record for squandering everything in so little time.
He hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about the expression on her face when she’d discovered he hadn’t told her about the DNA test results. He’d known—absolutely known—that she would be hurt by that given the trust issues she’d freely admitted. And yet he’d withheld it anyhow, unwilling to share the news that would send her out of his life.
So instead of letting her choose when she should return to her California home once she’d found out all she could about Zach, he’d selfishly clung to the information in the hope of stretching out their time together. And for his selfishness, he’d hurt her. Sure, he’d like to think he would have told her that afternoon. He couldn’t possibly have gone to bed by her side that night without sharing the news. But it didn’t matter how long he’d kept that secret.
What mattered was that she’d told him how hard it was for her to trust. Something he—of all people—understood only too well. Yeah, he recognized the pain he’d caused when he’d crossed the one line she’d drawn with him about keeping secrets.
When he finally reached the locked door of the back room, a uniformed casino employee entered a code and admitted him. At least the maze of halls here was quiet. The corridors with their unadorned light gray walls led to a variety of offices and maintenance rooms. Miles bypassed all of them until he reached stately double doors in the back.
Another uniformed guard stood outside them. This one rapped his knuckles twice on the oak barrier before admitting Miles.
A stunning view of Lake Tahoe dominated one side of the owner’s work suite, with glass walls separating a private office, small conference room and a more intimate meeting space. All were spare and modern in shades of gray and white, with industrial touches like stainless steel work lamps and hammered metal artwork. Desmond sat on a low sofa in front of the windows overlooking Lake Tahoe in the more casual meeting space.
Sunlight reflecting off the water burned right into Miles’s eyes until he moved closer to the window, the angle of built-in blinds effectively shading the glare as he reached his friend. Dressed in a sharp gray suit and white collared shirt with no tie, Desmond drank a cup of espresso as he read an honest-to-God newspaper—no electronic devices in sight. The guy had an easy luxury about him that belied a packed professional life.
As far as Miles knew, he did nothing but work 24/7, the same way Gage Striker had when he’d been an investment banker. Gage’s wealth had convinced him to start taking it easier as an angel investor the last couple of years, but Desmond still burned the candle at both ends, working constantly.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Desmond greeted him, folding his paper and setting it on a low glass table in front of him. With his posh manners and charm, Desmond looked every inch the worldly sophisticate. And it wasn’t just an act, either, as he held dual citizenship in the United States and the UK thanks to a Brit mother.
But Miles remembered him from darker days, when Desmond’s father had been a ham-fisted brute, teaching his son to be quick with a punch out of necessity, to protect himself and his mother. It was a skill set Desmond hid well, but Miles knew that a lot of his work efforts still benefited battered women and kids. And he’d channeled his own grief about Zach into something positive, whereas Miles still felt like the old wounds just ate away at his insides. What did he have to show for the past beyond Rivera Ranch? All his toil had gone into the family property. And he hadn’t really done anything altruistic.
“I only came to let you know I’m returning to Mesa Falls.” Miles dropped onto a leather chair near the sofa, eager to leave the place where his brief relationship with Chiara had imploded. “I’m meeting the pilot this afternoon.”
“Coffee?” Desmond offered as he picked up a black espresso cup.
Miles shook his head, knowing caffeine wouldn’t make a dent in the wrung-out feeling plaguing his head. He’d barely slept last night for thinking about Chiara’s parting words that had been so polite and still so damned cutting.
I think it would be best if you weren’t here when I return.
“It’s just as well you came in.” Desmond set aside his empty cup and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “I was going to message you anyhow to let you know you don’t need to return to Mesa Falls.”
Miles frowned as he rubbed his eyes to take away some of the gritty feeling. “What do you mean? Someone’s got to oversee things.”
“Nicole Cruz is flying to Montana tonight,” Desmond informed him, brushing some invisible item from the perfectly clean cushion by his thigh. “I assured her I would be there to meet her. Them.”
Miles edged forward in his seat, trying to follow.
“You want to be there to meet the guardian of the kid who’s most likely Zach’s son?” he clarified, knowing something was off about the way Desmond was talking about her.
Was it suspicion?
He’d like to think they were all suspicious of her, though. This seemed like something different.
“I’ve been her only point of contact so far,” Desmond explained, giving up on the invisible dust. He gave Miles a level gaze. “The only one of us she’s communicated with. We can’t afford to scare her off when it took us this long to find her.”
“Right. Agreed.” Miles nodded, needing to rouse himself out of his own misery to focus on their latest discovery about Zach. “If Matthew is Zach’s son, we don’t want to lose our chance of being a part of his life.”
Regret stung as he considered how much Chiara would want to meet the boy. He didn’t want to stand in her way, especially when they might not have come this far figuring out Zach’s secrets without her help.
Desmond’s phone vibrated, and he picked it up briefly.
“I’ve asked the PI to back off investigating Nicole and Matthew,” Desmond continued as he read something and then set the device back on the table. Sun glinted off the sleek black case.
“Why?” Miles picked up his own phone, checking for the thousandth time if there were any developments on who had targeted Chiara’s sites. Or, if he was honest, to see if she had messaged him. Disappointment to find nothing stung all over again.
He missed her more than if she’d been out of his life for years and not days. He’d only stuck around Lake Tahoe this long in hopes he’d be able to help the local police, or maybe in the hope she’d return to town to see Astrid. Or him.
But there was only a group message from Alec telling any of the Mesa Falls partners still on site at the casino to meet him at Desmond’s office as soon as possible. Miles wondered what that was about.
“Nicole has been dodging our investigators to protect Matthew for weeks. She’s exhausted and mistrustful. She asked me to ‘call off the dogs’ if she agreed to return to Montana, and I have given her my word that I would.” Desmond straightened in his seat, appearing ready to move on as he checked his watch. “And, actually, I have a lot to do today to prepare my staff for my absence. Alec agreed to watch over things here, but he’s late.”
As he spoke, however, a knock sounded at the outer double doors before they opened, and Alec appeared.
Miles only had a second to take in his friend’s disheveled clothes that looked slept in—a wrinkled jacket and T-shirt and rumpled jeans. His hair stood up in a few directions, and his face had a look of grim determination as he wound through the office suite to the glassed-in room where Desmond and Miles sat.
“Sorry I’m late.” Alec juggled a foam coffee cup in his hand as he plowed through the last door. “I’ve been at the police station giving my statement. They arrested my personal assistant, Vivian, for threatening Chiara Campagna.”
“You’re kidding.” Miles tensed, half rising to his feet. Then, realizing the woman in question was already in custody, he lowered himself into the chair again. “How did they find out?”
Miles had checked with the local police just the night before but hadn’t learned anything other than that they were still looking into the complaint Chiara filed after the second incident.
Alec lowered himself into the chair opposite Miles at the other end of the coffee table. He set his coffee cup on a marble coaster.
“Apparently it wasn’t tough to track her once they got a cybercrimes expert to look into it. Vivian and I were working late last night when she got a call from the police asking her to come in so they could ask her some questions.” Alec shrugged and then swiped his hand through the hair that was already standing straight up. “I drove her over there, never thinking they already had evidence on her. They arrested her shortly afterward.”
“Does Chiara know?” Miles wanted to call her. Check on her. Let her know that the police had done their job.
Hell. What he really wanted was to fold
her into his arms.
But holding her wasn’t his right anymore.
“I’m not sure if they’ve contacted her yet.” Alec retrieved his coffee cup, a thick silver band around his middle finger catching the light and refracting it all over the room. “I’m still trying to process the news myself.”
Before Miles could ask more about it, a knock sounded again on the outer door, and his brother, Weston, ambled in wearing jeans and a T-shirt. With his too-long hair and hazel eyes, he and Miles couldn’t be less alike.
“What’s up? April and I were going to hit the slopes today. Conditions are incredible.” He stopped himself as he looked around at his friends. “What happened?”
As he sank to a seat on the other end of the couch from Desmond, Alec repeated the news about Vivian before adding, “I had no idea Vivian was imagining we had a much deeper relationship than we do, but sometime in the last few years she started crossing the line as my assistant to make sure things went my way—bribing contacts into taking meetings with me, padding the numbers on our financial statements to make the gaming company look stronger for investors, a whole bunch of stuff unrelated to what happened with Chiara.”
Miles recalled meeting Vivian lurking outside the high-roller suite that day after the meeting of the Mesa Falls partners. “So why would she hassle Chiara?”
“I guess she intercepted a text on my phone about Chiara’s interest in Zach.” Alec glanced upward, as if trying to gather his thoughts, or maybe to remember something. “Vivian never liked her. She was a student at Brookfield, too, and I was with her that day at Dowdon that Kara—Chiara—came to school to talk to Miles and Gage.”
Miles remembered Alec saying he’d been with a girl under the bleachers that day. Still, fourteen years seemed like a long time to hold a grudge against Chiara. Once again his protective instincts kicked into gear. If he couldn’t be with Chiara or make her happy, he owed it to her to at least keep her safe. Which meant getting full disclosure on everything related to Zach’s death.