Deadly Obsession (21 page)

* * * *

A week before Christmas, and still nothing on Josephine.

"What do you mean?" he asked, as he looked up from the paperwork on his desk. Damn movers. He had yet to find his Waterford ashtray. He’d have to buy another, but he didn’t want another one. He wanted his.

The man across from him stood, looking at something behind Richard’s head, high above it too. One would think after all the years Ivan Rhistovolich had been in his employment, the man could at least look him in the damn eyes.

"Sir, I’ve searched all their holdings, every listing I could break into, no one is listed under any Kinncaid or Bills or even Montreaux. I checked Louisiana, but no one fitting her or Mr. Kinncaid’s description, have contacted anyone there," Ivan said, the edge of desperation clear in his voice.

Ivan was a non-noticeable man for the most part, which was a plus for the tasks Richard had him doing.

His Slavic features as heavy and well defined as his accent.

Some people were easily manipulated with fear. It often amazed Richard how incredibly stupid one could be when they were afraid of something. If only they stood back to think, analyze, they might take initiative. Personally, he never allowed them that time.

Which was why he had to find her--no, needed to find her. He couldn’t allow her to feel safe.

Now the stakes were higher, much, much higher than before. If she decided to tell someone the truth now....

Something tingled along his nerves at the thought, but he shrugged it off, rolling his neck.

No, she wouldn’t. Josephine was too scared, too worried about her precious Kinncaids. There was no doubt in his mind who they would believe should she decide to give bravery a try. The Kinncaids guarded her like one of their own.

The silence in his study stretched, only broken by Ivan’s cough.

Richard sighed. "She’ll be back. It’s getting close to Christmas, and they wouldn’t miss that family holiday. The Kinncaids are all about family." The leather of his chair sighed as he leaned back and crossed his ankles on the edge of his desk. "Watch their house. Let me know as soon as you find out anything."

"What do you want me to do?"

That was the question, wasn’t it? He was constantly reminded what a detriment keeping Josephine alive was, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Josephine was Josephine, there was no other like her. He leveled a look on Ivan, noting the way the man immediately lowered his eyes. Power was a heady thing.

Smiling, he sat up. "Why nothing, nothing at all. Just let me know when our prodigal returns, will you?"

With a wave, he dismissed Ivan and turned to look out the windows. Darkness had already fallen, coating the yard and woods in shadows. A flurry of snow late that afternoon had blanketed the grounds in white.

Yes, he had no doubt she’d be home for Christmas.

And when she came....

Washington, D.C.

Dulles International Airport was a nightmare anytime of the year, but three nights before Christmas it was hell. Christian was glad they had come home when they had, and not waited until Christmas Eve.

Brayden had offered to stay in Venice or even Paris another night. But they decided against it and flew home.

Christmas lights glittered from a Christmas tree some employee had decorated. People milled and pushed about. The drone of voices cloaked the roar of the planes taking off and landing. Carols played from speakers, the music interrupted as announcements were made.

It was great to be home.

Someone jostled her from behind and she stumbled. Brayden caught her arm.

"You okay?"

She nodded.

"Sorry," the man said, hurrying by with a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Rude ass," Brayden muttered, scanning the crowd.

Christian glanced around. Brayden was six-four. If there was someone to see, he’d find them.

"There he is," Brayden’s deep voice said, his hand tightening on her elbow. "Come on."

The crowd shifted as they walked into the baggage claim area, and she saw Quinlan standing there talking on his phone. She smiled at the familiar sight.

"Isn’t that a surprise," Brayden said, grinning.

"Well, as the man is fond of saying, ‘When there’s work...’"

"‘There’s work,’" Brayden said with her, shaking his head.

Quinlan saw them, waved, and disconnected with whomever he had been talking. He hurried to them, his long black, woolen coat swirling around his legs.

His smile was a single-dimpled one, inherited, Christian knew, from his mother. The youngest Kinncaid stopped right in front of them, hugged his brother and stood staring at her, his head cocked to the side and a question in his eyes.

Christian smiled, anxiety skittering through her, and shook her head. "What? I don’t get a hug, too? Did I get demoted?"

Quinlan grabbed her in a tight hug. "God, it’s good to have you back home, sis."

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Of all the boys, he was the one she felt closest to in a brotherly way. Obviously Brayden was a different case all together. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she pulled back. "That’s more like it."

"Let me see your hand," he said, setting her back and grabbing her left hand. His deep russet brow cocked as he narrowed a look at his brother.

Christian jerked her hand back. "Do you mind?"

He stared a moment more at Brayden, who she saw only smirked back. Men!

"Can we get the bags and go?" she asked.

Brayden hauled her up to his side. "Anything you want, mia bella."

Heat rushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, prickling her skin. She could only smile, all thoughts completely taking flight.

Quinlan shook his head, still grinning and said pointedly to Brayden, "Dad’s gonna have your ass. He told Mom if she," he said, pointing to her, "came home without a ring on her finger, she better by God not have a baby on the way." Quinlan’s chuckle was rusty. "He kept muttering something about his offspring not keeping their zippers up."

"What did your mom say?" Christian asked as they made their way to the luggage carousel.

"Well, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that part," he said quickly and looked at the bags. "So which ones are yours?"

"Quinlan," both she and Brayden said.

A flush started from his neck and stained the edge of his ears. "She--uh--Mom said they only took after their father."

"What?" they asked together. Brayden grinned and she chuckled.

Quinlan laughed again, looking at her. "Glad to hear you laugh again. What did you two do? Take a course on synonymous-rhythmical speaking?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of ‘jinx’ and a pinky shake," she told him, reaching around both males and grabbing one of her suitcases.

Before long, all their bags were loaded in the back of Quinlan’s Lexus.

Christian slid into the backseat. Both men were in the front, which was fine with her. It gave her time to think and settle her nerves before they got home.

"So, what did you bring me?" Quinlan asked, his gaze directed at her in the rearview mirror.

"What makes you think I got you anything?" she asked him.

"Cause I’m your favorite brother, and you know I love Italian things, and it’s Christmas."

Indeed. She and Brayden had done practically all of their shopping in Venice. Everyone was getting something from either there or Murano. There had simply been too much beautiful glasswork to pass up the fabled island artisans. She’d gotten Brayden a leather jacket. Knowing her luck it wouldn’t fit, but she’d worry about that later.

"Did you get the tickets?" Brayden asked from the passenger seat, interrupting their by-play.

"Of course," Quinlan answered, with that haughty air they all had. Almost as if he were insulted that there might be something he couldn’t do.

Christian leaned back and watched the lights pass by in the night. Christmas was bright and sparkling in the winter air. By the time they were halfway out of the city, heading toward Seneca, flurries danced in the air.

A white Christmas. That would be nice.

Brayden watched the light snowflakes flutter in the beam of their headlights, noting all the Christmas lights rainbowed with other decorations to shout greetings for the merry season. Celtic Christmas music fluted from the car’s speakers.

Tomorrow he planned to take Christian and Tori to see The Nutcracker. They went every year, and this year would be no different. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. This year, there would be that feeling of family with them. Last year, he’d actually thought about that, but had shrugged it off.

But this year. This year everything was different.

They’d bought gifts together. The thought had him grinning. He’d never bought a gift for someone, let alone all his family members, with another woman. It was kind of nice, watching her sign all their names to one card. Even if they were signed: Brayden, Tori and Christian. Since he’d made the issue of them buying gifts together, he figured he’d pressed enough not to bring up how her name was supposed to follow his. That would come later, if not as soon as he wished.

He glanced at Quinlan, the dashboard lights glinting eerily on his brother’s features as he remembered what his brother had said about a ring.

Brayden’s grin grew. A ring? Damn straight. He’d bought it the day he bought her the pendant. But he was smart enough to see when the time was right for things, and as yet, Christian wasn’t ready to hear his proposal.

He hadn’t gone looking for a ring. He’d been in that shop to buy her the pendant, or something. While the clerk had wrapped the sapphire necklace, he’d browsed. And seen it. Sitting on a bed of black velvet the ring winked at him.

A single marquee diamond, simple yet not, if he could find the right band to go with it. And he had no doubt he eventually would. Three carats seemed perfect, after all Christian wasn’t a flashy or showy type of woman, but that didn’t mean he had to get her a plain little diamond either. He didn’t want anyone missing what the ring meant when she put it on her finger. And with one this size, it should be fairly obvious, though personally, he liked the larger stone. But she wouldn’t.

The closer they got to home, the more he looked to the backseat.

Christian sat with her head against the headrest, her gaze out to the cold world. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned and their gazes locked. Would he ever get used to those pale gray eyes? Probably not.

Hell, he hoped not.

A small smile teased her lips and he wished he’d sat in the backseat with her.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching over the console into the backseat, holding his hand out to her.

She grabbed it and laced her fingers inside his. "I’m fine." A frown pulled between her brows before it straightened away. "I’m fine," she repeated. "Just thinking about Christmas and seeing Tori. God I’ve missed her."

"Me, too." Talking on the phone every day had in no way made up for not getting to see his daughter for several weeks. The only thing that had comforted his worry was knowing she was in good hands. But it was the first time he’d been away from his little girl since that nightmare with Gavin and Taylor when Tori and Ryan had been kidnapped.

Quinlan turned onto the driveway of their family home.

Home.

Thank God. He couldn’t wait to see his daughter. Just as the car pulled to a stop, the front door flew open and the light of his life bounded down the walk.

He heard Christian’s sigh as she squeezed his hand, hurrying with her seat belt as quickly as he was.

Brayden was out of the car just in time to catch Tori as she launched herself at him.

"I’ve missed you. It’s about time you came home!" she said into his neck, burrowing against him.

Brayden breathed deep, the smell of her, sweet and fruity not masking the child’s scent of innocence. He felt a catch in his throat and cleared the words past it as he squeezed his daughter tighter. "Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you, pumpkin."

She pulled back and he saw her roll her dark blue Kinncaid eyes. "Really, Daddy, I hardly doubt that."

He raised a brow and turned as Christian came up beside them. Tori squirmed to be set down. She wrapped her arms around Christian, who he saw, bent down and inhaled deeply just as he had.

Christian’s eyes were closed, but he still saw the silvery trail glide over her cheek. "Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad to see you."

Tori pulled back and said, "Well, of course you are! I’m precious."

God, help him. She was only eight.

"Why are you crying?" Tori asked, wiping her small hand over Christian’s cheek.

"It’s a happy, stupid tear," Christian said on a chuckle.

"How can a tear be happy, or even stupid?"

He wondered the same thing. Quinlan strode past them up the walkway and into the crowded door.

"I’ll explain when you’re older," Christian answered, straightening and looking to him with a small smile.

He smiled back and took Tori’s and her hand. "Come on, you two. Everyone’s waiting."

"They’ve been waiting since like yesterday," his daughter informed them. Just as they reached the door, she stopped, halting them all half-inside, half-outside the threshold. "So, did you get me the Christmas present I wanted?"

She grabbed Christian’s right hand, then shook her small dark head and reached for the left one.

Dropping that one, she turned a frown on him. "Daddy, Daddy, I ask for one thing. And you couldn’t get it for me?"

Some things were not that simple.

"See, Kaitie lass," his father said in that normal booming bark, just to his right as Brayden ushered them all in and shut the door. "I told you. Not an ounce of propriety amongst any of our sons...."

"Oh, Jock, stuff it." His mother smiled and walked to them.

God, it was good to be home.