Cherry Adair - T-flac 09 (26 page)

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Heather blinked the fuzz from her vision. The blood drained from her head. “Oh, God, Caleb,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

THESASSI, MATERA

SUNDAY, APRIL16

1209

“Hello, Daddy.”

“For God’s sake, Heather,” her father said by way of greeting, clearly furious. He sounded shockingly American, and looked completely out of context in this medieval setting. “Have you lost your goddamned
mind
coming here? And in
broad daylight
?”

His harsh words, and the fury on his face, directed at
her,
his princess, shocked her into taking an involuntary step backward. She needn’t have bothered. Making no move to approach her, her father remained where he was. Irritated. Distant. She could have called this one, Heather thought bitterly. He was either the attentive, doting father or oblivious to her very existence. It had always been that way.

Right now he was not a happy camper seeing her here.

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She’d only seen him truly angry once before this. The day her mother died.

Seeing him now, without warning, made the unpleasant mixture of love and hate she felt for him churn uncomfortably in her stomach. She held his gaze.
Are you all right? I miss you. Will this ever be over?

Her throat ached. Did
you kill my mother?

His contact lens–enhanced blue eyes were disapproving. Her father, the original metrosexual, wasn’t impressed by what he saw. He made a
moue
as he inspected her from top to toe, but didn’t comment. As he tightened his lips, she watched him mentally putting her husband and her clothing choices in the same garbage can.
Oh, Daddy, you are such a damned snob even under these extreme circumstances.

“Are you well?” he asked her after a moment.

Always a gentleman, Heather thought dryly at the polite inquiry. The question, she knew, was pretty much rhetorical. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the concerned subtext underlying the question.

“Fine, thank you,” she said automatically. Did he have any idea that both her bodyguards had died within a month of her leaving Paris? Since their only communication was supposed to have been when he discovered who had stolen his clients’ money, probably not.

He gave a slight nod. “Excellent.”

She smiled, despite the throbbing tension in the air. It had taken her years to realize that he was considerably more demonstrative in public. Clearly he didn’t consider Caleb and his staff “public.” She really could have done with a hug, but since that wasn’t going to happen she merely said, “You look wonderful as always, Daddy.”

And he did. Heather had absolutely no illusions about her father. Incredibly vain, he enjoyed being compared to Sean Connery in his later Bond movies, and dressed accordingly. He looked exactly like what he was, an obscenely wealthy man who took very good care of himself. He was obsessive about his macrobiotic diet, and unrelentingly disciplined about his rigorous exercise and weight-training program. His twice-a-week facials kept his skin smooth and vibrant, and his personal tanning bed kept him lightly bronzed all year long.

At sixty-three he was fit, attractive, polished, and sophisticated. And
always
number one.

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Memories of a doting and attentive father when she was a small child kept the love she felt for him alive, but she sometimes wondered if he was the same man who used to push her on the swings and carry her on his shoulders. It had been a long time since they’d had that connection.

She was vaguely aware that the chilly, rough stone foyer of what appeared to be a giant catacomb was filled to capacity with many of his key personnel, and a phalanx of bodyguards. Worker bees in a hive, expressionless machines, armed with the most high-tech weaponry that only too much money could buy.

Still, he had a right to be livid, since he’d gone to a lot of trouble and expense to stay hidden. But they hadn’t seen each other for more than a year; it would have been nice for him to greet her as if he’d missed her just a little.

His bodyguards were watching Caleb as if they expected him to pull out a machine gun and mow them down.

Right now she wasn’t so sure she wasn’t expecting the same thing. She was bewildered as to how this meeting had come about, and as she turned around, she shot her new husband a puzzled glance.

Sometime in the last few seconds he’d managed to disengage from her, leaving her to stand alone. Cold suspicion trickled down her spine.

How had Caleb known where to find her father? Even she hadn’t known where he was. “Why did you bring me here?”

This meeting didn’t make any kind of sense. Suddenly
Caleb
didn’t make sense. She realized, perhaps too damn late, that she knew very little about the man she’d married. She loved him, but she didn’t know him at all.

She seemed to be batting zero in the love department.

“To reconcile with your father, sweetheart.”

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“That doesn’t explain how you knew where to find him.” Her lips felt numb. Oh God, her entire body felt numb. Was
Caleb
the “client” whose money had disappeared? No. That couldn’t be. Could it?

He shrugged. “Just enjoy the moment.”

Heather frowned at the nonanswer.
Enjoy
wasn’t exactly the word she would use, she thought bitterly.

She turned away from him. The very air in the room seemed to crackle with animosity. Her father was clearly not happy to see her, and seeing
him
again made her realize that she was as furious, saddened, and bewildered today as she had been a year ago. “We’ll go,” she told her father flatly.

“You’ll stay until the matter has been resolved,” Brian Shaw told her just as flatly. He motioned one of his men to search Caleb. “Who
is
this man?” he demanded in his most autocratic voice. “And what in God’s name were you thinking bringing him here?”

Heather took a calming breath before saying mildly, “This
man
”—she lifted her chin a notch, not sure if she was just as angry as he was, totally confused, or living a nightmare. Or all three—“is my husband.

Caleb Edge. And we’re here on our honeymoon.” How could something so right turn into something so wrong? How
had
Caleb found her father? Why had he found her father? And what part had she inadvertently played in this meeting? The questions and doubts tumbled around in her brain like rocks in a dryer.

Her father raised a brow mockingly. “Coincidentally in
Matera
?”

Excellent point. “I—” To which she had no answer. She gave him a cool look. “You could congratulate us.” She wanted to believe that Caleb had somehow tracked down her father for her sake. That he’d believed her when she’d told him she and her father were estranged, and he’d wanted to help.

But that didn’t explain how a tractor salesman from Portland had managed to do what no one else had.

Nor did it really explain why he’d done so.

Caleb’s hands were raised shoulder high as her father’s man searched him, none too gently.

“Daddy, don’t!” Heather said, clinging to the hope of Caleb’s innocence for a few more seconds.

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Caleb didn’t look particularly concerned. If anything he looked mildly amused, and a little bored.

She really didn’t know him at all. She’d placed her safety and that of her unborn child in the hands of a man who could very well be the death of both herself and her father. Even doing her damnedest, Heather found it impossible to believe that he was completely innocent in this. What was he thinking? Was he scared? And trying to bluff it out? Or had he expected to be searched?

He caught her eye and deliberately winked. “Is this how they say hello in Matera? Kind of strange, but I’ll go with it.” He ignored the man frisking him. “Talk with your dad, honey,” Caleb said easily. “We can’t stay long.”

We can’t stay long?Heather repeated mentally.
We can’t stay long? What are we
doing
here?
Caleb now appeared as relaxed and at ease as if he were attending a cocktail party. Neither the fact that he was in the process of having his jean-clad legs patted down nor the fact that he had a dozen guns pointed at his chest seemed to faze him in the least.

Which by rights should have fazed him a great deal. The situation sure as hell freaked
her
out. What man was ready to handle being frisked on his new father-in-law’s orders, while on his honeymoon? Her mind raced as she tried to assimilate the
tableau vivant
before her so that it made a
modicum
of sense.

She understood her father’s reaction to seeing her. He’d been adamant about them having absolutely no contact until he discovered who had killed her mother, and what that person had done with the funds stolen from one of his client’s bank accounts. Terrified for her safety, positive that her mother’s death was business related, and fearing that the killer would come after his daughter or himself next, he’d sent her away.

What she
didn’t
understand was Caleb’s motivation in bringing her and her father together. And it
had
been intentional, she had absolutely no doubt. She didn’t believe in coincidence, which had kept her alive against a nameless, faceless enemy. She sent her handsome husband another glance. He smiled, tugging his clothing back into place, and jerked his head toward her father. She put her hand over her belly, and couldn’t even force a smile to her stiff mouth.

Had he stumbled across her in San Francisco, immediately recognized her as the daughter of the wealthy Brian Shaw and decided…what? To extort money from her father? Threaten him? Blackmail
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him, or blackmail
her
?

Or worse. Her blood froze in her veins, flushing her body with ice. Had he used her to somehow track down her father to
kill
him? She rubbed the goose bumps on her bare arms.

Who could she trust?

She was the focus of all eyes, standing partway between the two men. “Have you two met?”

“No.” The answer came from her father and Caleb simultaneously.

One question answered from the dozens churning in her brain right now. If they didn’t know each other, how
had
Caleb tracked him down? Oh God, more important—
why, why, why
? She shot another glance at her husband. His face was inscrutable.

“How did you two meet?” her father demanded, accepting a glass of spring water from his aide, but not offering anything to his guests.

“In San Francisco. I’d like a water, please.” After a brief nod from her father, the man went off to get another glass of water for her. Her knees felt rubbery, and she would have loved to sit down. But there were no chairs in the room. And she was so cold now her teeth were practically chattering. Or was that nerves?

Both. Either.

“We bumped into each other in the grocery store…”

Caleb tuned out their conversation, observing the body language between father and daughter with a slight frown. Heather didn’t know it, but he’d allotted five minutes to the reunion. He’d honor that time frame.

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And then the proverbial turd of all time would hit the fan. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Unobserved, as Heather and her father spoke, key men in Shaw’s employ were quietly disappearing one by one from behind him as Dekker effortlessly teleported them to a secure location across town. Not the safe house where they’d been staying, and where they’d take Shaw directly after he was teleported.

And where Caleb was going to have to tell Heather a little more of the truth before handing her father off to another team for interrogation. If she’d listen to him.

Then he’d be gone. Off, hopefully, to a mission filled with violence, aggression, and shit blowing all to hell. The more fucking down and dirty, the worse the odds, the better, he thought with desperate relish.

He needed to pound the living crap out of something. Soon.

Against his own better judgment, and the strong suggestion of his team, Caleb had wanted Heather to have her reunion with her father here. Where he lived. In his own setting, instead of across town. Not because it was a great location, but because
here
was not the cluster
there
was going to be.

He was almost ashamed at how cowardly that decision was, God help him. As far as the mission went, taking the Shaws directly to the secured area would be the most expedient course of action, he knew.

Less fuss, less muss. Took extraneous elements out of the equation.

Bringing Heather here had done what he’d needed. Visual range of Shaw was necessary for teleportation. The problem was, once
Heather
was teleported there’d be shitloads of goddamned fuss and muss.

If she was confused
now,
wait ten minutes. Caleb wanted to put that confrontation off for as long as possible.

Giving her five minutes wasn’t going to kill them. She was in no danger inside her father’s stronghold.

Hell, she was in no danger
period
because of the protective spell he’d put over her.

He knew Rook was back there, sealing Shaw’s foot soldiers inside their quarters with a simple holding spell. The garbage team would be in later to sweep them up. He knew, thanks to the preplanning, that Farris would be behind Shaw. If Shaw or the men standing in a semicircle behind him made so much as a
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hair’s movement toward Heather, the team had instructions to cut the reunion drastically short.