Novels 03 After Twilight, page 13
Braedon took the envelope, his brain still trying to identify what it was about the thing that bothered him. “Where shall I put it?”
She pulled away from her thoughts. “I suppose it’s too late to return it.” She shrugged. “I guess just throw it away.”
He started to toss it, but something stopped him, and he slid it into his pocket. He was probably being oversensitive, but later, when he was alone, he’d have a look at it.
“I guess I ought to throw the lot out.”
His gaze found hers and he tried to read the emotions in her eyes.
“I’ve never been very good at letting go of the past.” She gestured to the boxes and piles of things filling the tiny space. “I keep them up here, out of sight, and I pretend that I’ve left it all behind. But it’s always here. Always a part of me.” She looked at a paper in her hand. “I can’t run far enough to escape it.” The hopelessness in her eyes made him ache inside.
He pulled the paper from her hand, recognizing it immediately—her marriage certificate. There was her signature and Madison’s.
“It seems like a lifetime ago.”
“It was.”
“Maybe so, but it’s still here.” She touched her temple with a trembling finger.
“Marrying Alex?” He felt a rush of jealousy, angry that it had to be this man of all men who had captured her heart.
“No.” She studied her hands, as if they were one of the paintings she restored.
He waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he prodded gently. “His death?”
Her head snapped up.
“Fin told me he drowned.”
“Did he tell you I was there?” Kacy laughed, a deep throaty noise with absolutely no trace of humor in it. “That I was right there?” The brightness in her eyes faded, and he knew she was far away, lost in her memories. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes wild, seeing a storm that had blown out long ago. “And did he tell you that I killed Alex? As surely as if I’d shot him. I killed him.” Her voice was little more than a whisper now, strained and anguished.
Braedon felt the hairs on his arms rise. He’d wanted this after all, wanted a confession. But now that the time seemed to be at hand, he was surprised that there was no joy in it. None at all. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She twisted her hands together, tears glistening on her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away, but he was afraid to touch her. Afraid she’d shatter and he’d never be able to put her together again.
“There’s nothing to tell. I wanted him to come home more, spend time with me.” She smiled bleakly. “Treat me like a real wife. So I confronted him. Begged him to find more time for me, quality time. But he told me he only wanted s-sex.”
She choked back a sob. “And when I told him I wanted a husband, he exploded and stormed out of the house. Before I could get to him, he was gone.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Just gone. As if he’d never existed. One minute I was Mrs. Alex Madison, and the next, I was …” Two great tears rolled down her cheeks and he thought his own heart might break. She buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her slender shoulders.
Braedon shifted, moving closer, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you relive it.”
Lifting her head, she sniffled, her gaze meeting his. “It isn’t your fault. I live with it every day of my life.” She was back with him, the beach gone, and he reached to wipe away her tears.
“It’s over, Kacy, let it go.”
She touched his hand hesitantly with hers. “I’ve never told anyone before. About … about …” She stopped, unable to finish.
Covering her hand with his, he stroked her soft skin. “It’s all right,” he said, and he meant it. Whatever sins Kacy had committed, she hadn’t been responsible for her husband’s death.
It was a damn good thing Alex Madison was already dead. On top of everything else he’d done, the man had hurt Kacy. He’d treated her like a possession, something to be used and then thrown away. The prick. Hadn’t he recognized what he had? How lucky he was?
Braedon pulled her to him, tightening his arms around her, resting his chin on her hair. “It’s going to be all right, Kacy,” he whispered. And he knew that, somehow, he’d make sure that it was.
Chapter 13
OH, GOD, WHAT had she done?
Kacy ran an agitated hand through her hair, pacing back and forth across the rag rug at the foot of her bed.
She’d told Braedon about Alex.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubbed her temples. Considering all that had happened, she ought to be worrying about more important things than what she had or hadn’t told Braedon Roche.
Easier said than done. She blew out a breath, opened her eyes, and sat on the end of the bed, staring at the closed door connecting the bedroom with the hallway and, ultimately, Braedon asleep in the parlor.
She’d admitted to Braedon that Alex hadn’t loved her, and in doing so, she’d given voice to her biggest fear—that she was unlovable. No matter how hard she tried, the men she loved rejected her. First her father, and then Alex.
She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth, fighting against the humiliation snaking around inside her, threatening to destroy what was left of her self-esteem.
She opened her eyes.
There were more important things to worry about. Biting her lip, she focused instead on the intruder. The image of his body sprawled across the stairs flashed through her mind and she shuddered with revulsion. She’d never seen the man before, but she wasn’t so certain he was a run-of-the-mill burglar.
It seemed far more likely that one of the men from Alex’s past had caught up with her. There had been so many debts. Could the dead man have been sent by Alex’s creditors? She flinched, thinking of the car in the lane.
Why would someone come after her now? It had been two years. Alex was dead and gone. She was boxing with shadows. Mac jumped up on the bed, nestling beside her. She stroked the soft white fur on his neck. “What are we going to do?”
The dog cocked his head as if he were contemplating the question.
“I know, I know. You want to stay here,” she sighed. “Me, too, but I’m not sure it’s possible anymore.”
She shivered, feeling helpless and alone, despite the fact that Braedon was sleeping just across the hall. The wind rattled against the windowpane and she jumped.
Swallowing her fear, she walked to the window and checked the latch, relieved to find that it was firmly locked. She turned back to face Mac. “All we have to do is disappear. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
Mac lifted his head, his gaze looking reproachful.
“Maybe we could go to Spain. You’d love it there. It’s warm all the time.” She heard the indecision in her voice. The truth was, she didn’t want to leave. For the first time in her life, she’d made a real home. She had friends in Lindoon. And something more.
She dropped down onto the bed next to Mac.
There was Braedon.
But there was also the threat from Alex’s enemies. And there was her father’s legacy.
Millicent.
Her father’s wife hated her. Hated her with a vehemence that was almost deadly. Kacy was an undeniable reminder of her husband’s infidelity. And if anything happened to put Kacy in the limelight, her father’s reputation would suffer.
Millicent had made that perfectly clear. Kacy had to protect him. Save him from Millicent even in death.
She ran a hand through her hair, conflicted. Loyalty to her father was as natural as breathing. All her life she’d done as he’d directed. Changed her name, her residence, anything it took to stay in his life—to remain his daughter.
All she’d wanted was for him to acknowledge her. To let the world know he had a daughter. He’d promised that someday she could come out of the shadows, step into the light— with him. But someday had never come, and now it was too late. She was left protecting a memory.
There could be no normalcy for her. There would always be someone digging into her past, asking questions that couldn’t be answered. If it wasn’t Alex’s creditors, it would be someone else. And then Millicent would make good on her threat. No, she had to run.
She stared at the door to the hallway, wondering if Braedon was asleep, wondering what it would be like to wake up in his arms, to feel cherished and safe, even if just for a moment. She was halfway across the room before she even realized her intent. She stopped, knowing she was being foolhardy. Going to him would be a mistake, an entanglement she didn’t need. Like Alex.
Alex.
What a mistake that had been. Once in her life she’d let her passions reign and look where it had left her.
Alone.
And hunted. Her trust betrayed.
Even before he died, he’d thrown it all back in her face. The charm had faded and the man had grown menacingly cold. What a fool she’d been. What a stupid, bloody fool.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned back toward the bed. Sleep. She needed sleep. Things would look clearer in the morning.
Like hell they would, the little voice in her head whispered.
* * *
Braedon sat on the sofa, looking at the envelope in his hand, wondering what it was about the name that seemed familiar. He turned it over and read the embossed return address. Some realty company in New York.
What had Kacy said? Misdelivered mail. He frowned at the envelope. She’d believed what she’d told him. He was learning to read her eyes, and her reaction had been instant and honest. There was nothing to this.
Still, something nagged at his brain.
He slit the envelope open, feeling only a slight trace of guilt. It wasn’t like he was reading Kacy’s mail. He pulled out some papers and unfolded them, frowning as he studied what looked to be a legal document.
A contract of some kind. Real estate from the looks of it. He flipped to the back. There was a deed attached. Turning the pages, he noted the signatures at the end. Giles had signed, his handwriting slanted and curling, almost unreadable. There was another signature, too. The seller. But it was impossible to make out the illegible scrawl.
He flipped back to the first page and the clause identifying the seller. Miguel Ruiz. The name was unfamiliar, not that he’d have expected to recognize it. He shrugged. The paperwork looked routine. Evidently Giles had bought some property in South America, an island from the looks of it.
Braedon folded the papers and stuck them back into the envelope. M. Giles was probably sitting on his island right now, drinking piña coladas and enjoying the sunset. Hell, he almost envied the man.
He tossed the envelope into the fire, absurdly grateful that the papers had nothing to do with Kacy.
Max stood at the window of his hotel room, willing Anson to drive into the parking lot. A single light cast a harsh yellow glare across the rows of cars. Where the hell was he? Max slammed his fist down on the windowsill. Pain shot up his arm. God, he hated feeling powerless.
He turned to look at the clock, surprised to see how late it was. Surely the man should have been back by now. There must have been trouble.
Max grimaced and peered out the window again. Anson was more than an employee. He was a friend. The only thing he had left now that Alex was …
After all this time he still couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Alex had been his world. His whole world. He’d have done anything, had done everything, for his brother. Five minutes older, he’d always taken care of Alex. He’d felt an intense responsibility for his twin right from the beginning.
When their mother had failed them, he’d personally seen to it that Alex had everything he’d wanted. He’d schemed and struggled, always one step ahead of the law, trying to make life easy for his brother. He’d protected Alex. And ultimately he’d sacrificed his freedom for his brother.
But it had been worth it. Every minute of it.
Until that bitch came along. Something changed between them when Alex married Kirstin. He’d stopped coming to Rikers to visit. Stopped calling, writing. Max hadn’t seen his brother at all the last few months of his life.
Because of her.
She’d bewitched him. Pulled him away from his own blood. Opened her legs and sucked Alex inside.
Max closed his eyes, remembering the way the little slut had rubbed her body against Braedon Roche’s. Hardly the grieving widow. He ground his teeth together, clenching his fist.
She’d killed Alex. He was certain of it. Somehow she’d gotten wind of the forgery scheme and killed his brother for the money, taking away the only person Max had ever loved. Alex had been his twin. His soul. His heart.
Hatred seared through him, hot and bitter. He’d make her pay. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make the bitch pay. But first, he had to find Anson.
Braedon couldn’t sleep. His mind was too full of questions, too full of thoughts of Kacy. Crossing the room, he picked up the poker and stirred the dying embers of the fire. Flames flickered to life, and he caught a glimpse of something white caught between the peat bucket and the stones of the hearth.
He reached down and snagged the piece of paper, a photograph. Curious, he took it back to the sofa and held it in the light of the table lamp. Kacy smiled up at him, her green eyes full of laughter. His throat tightened and he felt his heart flutter. Hell, even her picture made his senses leap.
She was standing with a man, in front of a limousine. The man embraced her, his arm wrapped tightly around her. Braedon stared at the photo, his mind imagining the worst. Kacy with her lover.
He frowned, studying her paramour, realizing he recognized the face.
Caldwell Bremmerton.
What in the world was Kacy doing with a bastard like him? The man was a piranha, smelling fear and feeding on insecurity. He ate corporations for breakfast. People were just appetizers.
Braedon had only run up against him once, early in his career. But it had been enough to teach him a few things about manipulation and sheer ruthlessness. Caldwell Bremmerton had drummed Braedon into the ground and left him for so much garbage.
Braedon tensed, remembering. God, how he hated to lose. Hated it more than anything. But this had been more than just defeat. Bremmerton had enjoyed humiliating him, taken pleasure in setting him up and zeroing in for the kill.
Braedon had sworn revenge, sharpening his skills, waiting patiently for the right opportunity. But the son of a bitch had died before he could exact vengeance. He looked back at the picture, old anger surging through him. He hated the thought of Caldwell’s hands on Kacy.
His Kacy.
He blew out a breath, laughing at himself. He was actually jealous of a photograph of a dead man. Dropping the picture on the bookshelf, he turned back to the sofa, his thoughts centering on Kacy.
There were so many questions and so few answers. He no longer believed that she was in any way tied up in Alex’s schemes, but something here was obviously very wrong. The events of the last few days couldn’t be merely coincidence. There had to be a connection.
All he had to do was find it.
Kacy opened her eyes and looked at the display on her clock for the hundredth time. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen lousy minutes. It felt like hours. She sat up, pushing the hair out of her face, her mind working overtime. At this rate, she’d never get any sleep. The lamp cast a pale glow across the bed, shadows dancing at the edge of the light.
She was tired of being alone. She wanted Braedon, wanted him with a strength of desire she hadn’t known she possessed. And he was here, a room away. All that separated them was a hallway. And a magnitude of secrets.
Her secrets.
She lay back against the pillows, careful not to disturb the sleeping dog. Maybe it was time to trust someone. Trust Braedon. Her heart cheered. Her brain revolted. There was too much at stake to make a mistake. She stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance across the plaster, shifting shapes fading into the night.
Maybe she could tell him some of it. The part about Alex. About the men from New York. Braedon might have contacts. Maybe he could actually help. Do more than the police had been able to. And she didn’t have to betray her father. She could trust Braedon with a little and let him help her.
She rolled over, staring at the clock again, indecision warring inside her. She’d made so many mistakes. What proof did she have that this wouldn’t just be another?
None.
Trust your heart, Kacy. Her mother. The voice echoed through her head and was gone.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered. “I’ve tried to protect you. All these years, I’ve guarded your secret. And Father’s. But I’m so tired of running. Tired of being alone. Tell me what to do, Mama. Tell me what to do.”
Kacy waited, waited for answers that wouldn’t, couldn’t come. Her mother had sacrificed everything for love. Everything. And now her daughter was left to live with the consequences of that sacrifice.
Trust your heart.
She drew a deep breath and walked toward the door.
Chapter 14
SHE LOOKED LIKE an angel, standing in the doorway, the moonlight washing over her, silvering her hair. Braedon felt desire flash through him, his breath catching in his throat. She was so beautiful. And not just a surface beauty, but something deeper, something intrinsic.
She shifted from one foot to the other, looking young and uncomfortable. Braedon found himself wanting to soothe her, to erase whatever it was that haunted her.
“We need to talk.” Her voice was low, trembling.
She stepped into the room, the light turning her nightgown translucent, the shadowy outline of her body sending his senses reeling. A dull but demanding ache spread through his groin and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and show her just how much he wanted her.
