Deadly Shadows (6 page)

“I can’t let you see her,” the cop tried.

“Who the hell are you? Her damn bodyguard?” The man was dressed in a rumpled suit and his blond hair stood in spikes as though he’d run his fingers through it.

Appearance was important, Aiden had always believed it. First impressions had an adage for a reason. And on appearance alone, this man would not win any points.

“It’s all right, Merrick. Let him say what he wants and then he can leave,” Jesslyn spoke beside him.

The man stalked up the sidewalk and stopped at the bottom step. “Do you have
any
idea where I spent all damn night?” the man asked through his teeth.

Jesslyn took a sip of coffee.

Silence stretched.

Was this an old lover? A pissed ex boyfriend? The man was definitely upset.

“I’m shaking with anticipation,” she drawled, her twang more pronounced. “Please, don’t leave us in suspense. Though, I’ll warn you, if you came to gloat about your latest screw, I don’t care.” “You’re such a bitch, Jesslyn,” the guy said.

Aiden shifted, the rocker creaked.

“Another guard dog?” the guy asked, his lip curling derisively.

“If you like.” Jesslyn didn’t move.

“What I’d
like
is to know why in the hell you couldn’t bother to pick up a fucking phone

34

and call me last night.” He stepped up the first step.

Her stare was dark and razor sharp. Aiden would bet lesser men backed down at that stare. The man stepped back down into the yard.

Jesslyn uncurled out of the rocker and stood, the blanket falling off her shoulders.

“Honestly?”

“Are you anything else?” the man asked.

“Aiden?” she asked.

“Yeah?” He stood.

“Would you excuse us please?”

“What? Don’t want to introduce me?” the man asked.

She shrugged. “Aiden Kinncaid, CEO of something important, meet Kirk the Jerk Roberts, the
estimable
president of one of the local banks.” She turned back to him and Aiden saw the anger and humor dance in her eyes. “Personally, I use the other bank just so I don’t have to deal with Kirk. I’d do the same if I were you.”

“Why you….”

“Now, Kirk,” she admonished, “don’t whine. It’s annoying.”

A muscle bunched in Kirk’s jaw, a vein pounded in his forehead. Aiden eased a bit closer to Jesslyn who stepped to the edge of the porch.

“I didn’t call you because I didn’t think about it.”

Aiden could hear the man grinding his teeth from here.

Kirk balled his hands into fists. “More like you didn’t want to. If not for you, Maddy would have married me.”

“And divorced you the first time she caught you fucking your newest secretary.” Jesslyn set her cup on the railing with an ominous thunk. It toppled and fell off the railing. “Well, hell, there went a perfectly good cup of coffee,” she said, looking at her cup on the ground. She gazed back at Kirk the Jerk. “Why don’t you go home, Kirk? What the hell are you doing at my place at this time of morning anyway?”

“I loved her!” he yelled.

“No,” Jesslyn’s voice held no mercy. “You didn’t love her. You used her to complete your ideal picture. And if you wonder where I got that, remember what
you
told me back in October.”

Kirk’s eyes raked Jesslyn up and down. Aiden lounged against the railing.

“They think I killed her.” Kirk bit out. “I spent all night at the goddamn police station being questioned!”

For one long moment no one said a word, no one moved.

“Do you have any idea how this looks?” Kirk asked, raking a hand through his hair.

Jesslyn straightened as though jolted. “Excuse me?” She stepped down two steps, getting closer to the angry man.

Aiden didn’t really care for the move.

“How it looks? You are such a lowlife, sorry-assed, son of a bitch. Who gives a shit how it looks? Maddy is dead! Dead! Somebody used her chest as a goddamn pincushion and you’re worried how it looks?”

Kirk pointed a finger at her. “Don’t take that tone with me.”

“No,” she grabbed his finger and twisted. “You don’t come to my house and take crap shots at me. I really don’t give a damn how you spent your precious night.” She let go of his

35

finger and Aiden watched as the man’s eyes darkened. “Where were you, Kirk, when you heard?

Did the cops find you at home with the kids?” She shook her head. “Nope, my guess is that they found you somewhere else.”

“That’s none of your damn business.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But whatever you and Maddy had or didn’t have, she did care about your kids and they cared about her. Have you once thought about how the hell this is going to affect them?”

At Kirk’s confused look, Jesslyn continued, “Nope that would be too much to hope for in your case.”

“You keep my kids out of this.”

Jesslyn held up a hand. “Kirk, go home.”

“I can’t. They’re searching my house as we speak.”

Jesslyn tilted her head. “Really?”

Merrick stood at the edge of the yard yawing, but still watching the spectacle on the front porch. Before Aiden turned back, he saw the blur of movement. Kirk reached out and grabbed Jesslyn’s arm, jerking her close. “What the hell did you tell them?”

Jesslyn looked at his hand on her arm then back at Kirk.

Aiden stepped forward. “Let her go.”

Neither of them paid him a bit of attention.

“What do you think I told them? Let me go, Kirk. Now.”

Again a muscle bunched in his jaw. Aiden saw his fingers tighten, but before he reached them, Jesslyn fisted her hand, reared back and sucker punched him right in the nose.

Kirk let her go.

Aiden stopped, impressed as she backed up one step and said, “I told you to let go of my arm.” “You bitch.”

“Leave,” Aiden said, stepping down beside her, and easing in front of her. Lot of good it did now.Blood shot eyes glared at Jesslyn then at him before zeroing in on Jesslyn again. “You broke my nose.”

“Aren’t you the smart one,” she muttered.

Merrick puffed up beside them. “Come on,” the policeman said. “Mr. Roberts, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” Aiden said, “he shouldn’t.”

Kirk held his nose with one hand, blood dripping from his palm, while he dug something out of his pocket. He pressed it against his nose. “Ja godda pay fer dis.”

Aiden stepped down the last step and still looked down on the--what had Jesslyn called him? Oh yeah--sorry-assed, son of a bitch. Woman had a way with words.

“Careful what you say, Roberts.”

“Who the fuck are you to care?”

Aiden only smiled, and he knew it held no amusement. “You don’t want to find out.”

Fear shifted in the other man’s eyes. Good.

Merrick grabbed Kirk’s arm, but the rumpled banker jerked it free and stormed off to his Lexus. Gravel and dust spit into the air as he spun away from the house.

36

Jesslyn sighed. “Well, that was sure fun. Wonder what’s next on the day’s agenda.”

Aiden watched the car swerve onto the highway, barely missing another car. He looked to Merrick. “Wasn’t that a traffic violation?”

Merrick smiled. A siren chirped, once, twice, and then an SUV with CBPD followed down the hill.

“Yep,” Merrick said, “and now he gets to deal with the other one.”

“Other one?”

“Stephens. Don’t know which is worse. Black in a bad mood or Stephens. Would rather not deal with either one of them if I could help it.”

No, Aiden would guess not. He turned around and saw Jesslyn gather her dumped cup, a mug and blanket up. The door squeaked as she opened it and stalked through it. He watched as she paused at the threshold, her hand fisted to her stomach.

Aiden raked his hand through his hair. Nothing like the Rockies. Was it always like this? Working vacation his ass. If this was any indication of what the next several weeks were going to be like, he’d need a real vacation after this.

He followed Jesslyn inside. Water ran in the kitchen. She turned from the sink and looked at him, her dark eyes shifting from anger to hurt to confusion. “Sorry about that.”

Aiden shook his head and stood beside her at the sink. He reached out and took her hand, pushed the sleeve up. No bruise showed. Thank God. He really didn’t care for brute force against anyone. But in her case, with Mr. Roberts, he’d make an exception all the way around.

He turned her wrist one way, then the other, his fingers grazing along her arm, the soft inside skin of her wrist. He traced one blue vein from the inside of her elbow to the pad of her thumb.

Her breathing quickened.

Aiden looked up at her, saw the shock in her eyes glazing over the anger. “You’re no damsel in distress. Remind me to never really piss you off.”

Her half-grin warmed him and he let go of her hand as she eased it away. “I’d need a step stool to deck you.” Then her face contorted and she leaned forwards, holding her breath, her other hand pressed to her stomach.

“Jesslyn?” Her shoulder felt small beneath his hand. “What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath and slowly straightened. “Nothing.” She blew her breath out.

He bent his knees to look her in the eye. “Don’t give me that. What?”

“Arrogant, pushy and bossy too.”

“Fine CEO qualities. Since I’m renting the place, I’d like to know if I’m about to catch a stomach virus. Now what’s wrong?”

She was pale. “I’m fine, really. Though the idea of giving you a stomach bug has merit.”

Again she fisted a hand against her stomach and bit down.

“Uh-huh. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” She tried to pull away, but he didn’t take his hand off her shoulder.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Sometimes when I get really stressed out, my stomach hurts.”

Hurt looked as though it were an understatement.

“Do you have an ulcer?” he demanded.

“Depends who you ask,” she sassed with one of her half grins.

“I’m asking you.”

“Then, no, I don’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you ate?”

37

All he’d seen her put into her system was coffee.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as though she’d decipher the answer from there.

Finally, she shrugged. “Sometime yesterday? Yeah, a muffin yesterday before my meeting. But it wasn’t very good and--“

“A muffin?” He looked outside, checked his watch. There were perks to owning hotels.

It was almost seven and his staff had better be running the hotel properly. “You need food.”

“Yeah, I know. Whatever is in those pills I took earlier for my headache, it’s trashing my stomach.”

“And the stress isn’t helping. Nor is the coffee.” He sighed and straightened. “Where are your shoes?”

“Shoes?”

“You do have some?”

“Yeah, and amazingly I even manage to get them on my feet upon occasion.”

He stared at her.

“They’re in the closet over there.”

“Get them on. We’re going to breakfast.”

She arched a brow. “I’m not hungry.”

“Ulcers are nothing to mess around with.”

“Figures. You would worry about everything too. No wonder you CEO types are known to burn out. And I don’t have an ulcer.”

“Your shoes.” He crossed his arms.

Her jaw jutted out. “I’m fine.”

“Your shoes.”

She threw up her hands. “God, you’re like a damn bulldozer.” Jesslyn marched to the corner closet, sat on the tiled floor and mumbled to herself as she put on a pair of tennis shoes.

Aiden shook his head and wondered what perversity in him liked trading barbs with her.

Whatever it was, he didn’t care. The woman needed food and he was going to feed her.

38

He paced. No answers had come to him in the night. But the police couldn’t find
anything, at least he didn’t think so.

Crimes were not as easily committed as they once were, even with all the precautions
he’d taken.

Perhaps the last one had been a mistake. Someone might put it with one of the others.

Though why they should, he couldn’t guess. The possibility though lingered and he didn’t like
that. They might link one other to last night’s victim, but the others … The others were all long
forgotten.

Well, he never hunted here. Went out of his way to find those that would hardly be
missed.Last night had just gone all wrong.

The question that plagued him was why?

To prove he’d made a mistake?

Or something else?

A horn blared out on the street and he startled. The smells of the early morning here
wafted on the air. Pine and exhaust mixing faintly with coffee and baked goods.

He sniffed, rubbed his hand down his leg. He needed to think, some quiet to figure out
what he was supposed to do about everything. The idea of going after Ms. Black did not exactly
appeal to him. Not unless it was supposed to.

The problem was knowing if it was supposed to or not. She was innocent. Not like the
others. He knew that.

But still....

He shrugged and hoped the answers would come to him soon.

* * * *

Jesslyn mopped her last bite of waffle through the lake of syrup on her plate and popped it in her mouth. She leaned back and sighed.

Aiden, his plate pushed to the side, stacked his hands on top of each other and watched her. “Better?”

It would be churlish to lie. “Yes,” she admitted on a grin.

“Food does wonders.”

She shrugged. They’d come to his new hotel. The old Sharlaton, a massive log and stone complex, four stories tall, set in the middle of the resort community. For some reason she’d expected to see people remodeling.

He’d laughed and asked what she expected in the foyer. Paint cans and scaffolding?

Okay, so she had. And though she couldn’t see the paint and lumber, the traces of it still lingered in the air.

The over all décor was what seemed to predominate all these mountain resorts. Heavy

39

unfinished wooden furniture. Ranch motives mixed with a southwest flavor. Seemed normal to her. Lots of stone and wood. “Nice place you have here,” she said. “Did I already tell you that?” “Not in so many words.” He took a sip of coffee.

She looked at her tea, very weak tea too. “You are cruel.”

“Next time you can have coffee if you don’t run yourself to the ground.” The lines around his mouth tightened.

“Are you always like this with people your rent a place from?”

The man gave a new meaning to the word dominating. He all but sucked every extra space out of an area and he didn’t even move.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

His head tilted, the early morning sunlight shining through the skylight glinted off his black hair. “So you did.”

“I’ve eaten. Lots of carbs, bready stuff. Today’s dietitians would cringe. Can I have some coffee now?” Truthfully she was craving orange juice, but knew better. Coffee, her stomach could probably handle, but not O.J.

“No.”

She looked at his left hand, noticed again it was unadorned. “You’re not married, are you?” “No.”

“I can see why.”

Though he grinned, it was cold and did not reach his eyes. “Can you? I doubt that.”

The serious CEO was back.

Jesslyn leaned up and propped her elbows on the table, her hands under her chin. “I hear a story behind that.”

“And you’ve a story yourself.”

So she did.

“Why do you like to write?” he asked. “You do write, don’t you? Tim mentioned it.”

Jesslyn chuckled. “Yes, I write.”

“What do you write?”

“Books.”

Those breathtakingly blue eyes narrowed and she inwardly sighed.

“What kind of books?”

“Mayhem and danger. Girl finds herself in bad situation, sometimes saves herself and sometimes hero saves her, sometimes she saves hero. They, of course, live happily ever after, but that’s a must in romance.”

His gaze roamed over her face and she felt it like a caress. “Romance, eh?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t seem the romance writing type.”

She sat back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I think it’s your attitude that ruins the image of some author dreaming up happy endings.”

“What a stereotypical thing to say.”

He grinned. “Who was it that remarked on CEO’s and burn outs?”

For a moment neither said a word. Then he asked, “How long have you been writing?

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Do you enjoy it?”

“Very much. And I’ve written for years. Been published for about five.”

“What did your husband think of it?” he asked.

It was a question she’d gotten used to, others had asked it. But instead of answering him, she asked one of her own. “What would you say or do if your wife wanted to write about--what did you call it?--dreamy happy endings?”

He thought for a moment, propping his chin in his hand. “I don’t know. If she was really serious about it, tell her to go for it.”

His answered surprised her. “Really?”

“Of course. Everyone should do what they want to. If they don’t, it only leads to resentment and hard feelings.”

True. “Jerrod, my late husband, encouraged me.” Even if he hadn’t always completely understood. “He was my biggest supporter.”

Aiden slowly shook his head. “You loved him.”

“Well, one would hope.” She didn’t understand his comment. “Yes, I loved him, very much. He was my husband.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought this should be a strange conversation to be having with this man, but for some reason it wasn’t. Aiden could be easy to talk to, even though she never really knew what he’d say.

“Tim said you had children?”

She could talk about Jerrod, but the children … Jesslyn looked at the tabletop. “Yes.

Two.” Pain whispered around her heart. Not the claw shredding pain it once had been, but still sharp enough to hurt. She swallowed.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.

She smiled. “What is it you’ve been doing?”

His brows furrowed. “Never mind.”

Jesslyn waited. “It’s okay. It was three years ago. Sometimes it still hurts. Lots of times it still hurts. Not so much what was, like it was before, but what can never be.” She ran her finger in a circle on the tabletop and shrugged. “However, life is life and goes on.”

“What happened?” He shifted as though uncomfortable. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Was that the personal question?”

He shook his head.

“No? Well, as to what happened, a drunk driver ran a red light.” And just like that, her world was ripped to shreds.

“I’m sorry.” He reached across the space and covered her hand with his. “It’s not easy losing children.”

The words were whispered and she’d heard them before, from well meaning friends and family. But his held that note, that dark acceptance of what could not be changed. Only people who had been there knew. “Ah,” she said. “The person you lost.”

His eyes looked over her shoulder. Jesslyn didn’t turn around to see what it was. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Though most wouldn’t think so.” Aiden shrugged. “I’m a bit antiquated, so I’ve been told.”

Jesslyn sat silent and unmoving, not even to pull her hand out from under his.

“I was engaged, to an incredibly self-centered model, would have been married for several months by now.”

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“What happened?”

“I found out two months before the wedding she’d had an abortion.” His forehead wrinkled on his frown. “I know this is a new millennium and whatnot, women’s rights, freedoms of choices.”

But not for him.

He shook his head. “I can’t believe I told you that. Sorry.” Aiden made to pull his hand away, but Jesslyn turned hers over and grasped his warm palm.

“I’m sorry,” she said for lack of anything better.

“Why?”

“Because while I know what I’m missing, you never even got the chance.” Pain shifted raw and angry in his eyes at her words.

They sat there in the early morning light streaming through the skylights, the bustle of activity in the empty dining room around them, staring at each other.

Jesslyn smiled again. “So how’s the weather?”

His smile warmed her insides. “Did we just bond or something?”

“God, that’s a scary thought.”

“Tell me about it.” He waved his hand. “Sorry for bringing all that up. I’m not sure why I did.” Jesslyn shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I ask another question?” He shifted and put his elbows up on the table.

“Of course you can, doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer.”

His eyes roamed over her face. “You’re very prickly.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

He opened his mouth then shut it again. Standing, he offered her his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home so you can rest.”

She didn’t move. “Maybe I’m not ready to leave yet.” The coffee smelled really good.

Aiden sat back down.

“I want to ask some questions,” she said. “You got to ply me, now I want to ply you.”

A grin flickered near the edge of his mouth. “What do you want to ply?”

She ignored him.

“What do you want to know?”

What did she want to know? “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Controlling, overbearing and just come in and take over. Rearrange things to your liking?”He steepled his fingers and studied her. “Is that how you see me?”

Lowering her voice she mimicked. “An ulcer is nothing to mess around with. Shoes.

Shoes. Shoes.”

He chuckled, a low deep rumble that tossed her insides. “Guess you do.”

“I bet you’re the first born.”

He nodded.

“Do you have a quirk?” Something to make him a bit more approachable.

“Do you?” he asked.

She grinned at him. “Hell, honey, I’ve got lots of quirks.”

“Such as?”

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“Colors.”

He frowned. “How are colors quirks?”

“Cause sometimes I think in colors.”

He shook his head. “How does one think in colors?”

She shrugged. “You know, like you see a person and think: They’re yellow. Or a song seems blue, or maybe pink.”

Aiden leaned back up on the table, his gaze intent. “I’ve never heard that. You seriously think in colors?”

She pursed her lips, watched as his eyes dropped to her mouth and quickly tucked them between her teeth. “Yeah. Okay, so I’m weird. It’s like listening to Beethoven and thinking of his Fifth with lots of reds and sharp blacks, purples.”

“You like Beethoven?”

“Yeah.”

“What about his
Moonlight Sonata
?”

“Blues and grays, swirling and melding.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. That’s weird, but I like it. What other music do you like?”

“All kinds of music. You?” She took another sip of the tepid tea.

“Beethoven’s good. I like jazz, old World War II songs, Celtic.”

“Celtic, huh? Never say so with a name like Aiden Kinncaid.” So they had something else in common. Music tastes.

“One half Irish, one half Scot.”

“There was no hope for you.”

He smiled. “None.”

He stood again and offered her his hand. This time she let him help her stand and didn’t take her hand from his as they walked out the hotel.

“So you think of music and people in terms of color? What color am I?”

“Blue,” she answered immediately.

He grinned, a glint in his eye before he covered them with shades as they stepped out into the bright morning. “But is it just blue? Or are there different shades?”

“Like your eyes.”

He halted.

Oh God, she had
not
just commented on his damn eyes.

“My eyes?”

Hell. “Uh, yeah, that blue color. Yeah.” Intense. The man was an intense cobalt blue.

They stood on the pavement, halfway to his Jeep. She scrambled for something else to say.

“Tim is navy, all somber and serious most of the time. And T.J., she’s pale green or blue, like winter ice.” Jesslyn shrugged. “I know it’s weird. It’s just how I think of things.”

Aiden shook his head and helped her into his Jeep.

As he slid in, he said, “No, I don’t think it’s really
that
weird so much as interesting.”

The drive back to the house only took about five minutes. He walked her in, nodding to the replacement cop--whose name she couldn’t remember--and preceded to check the rooms.

She stood in the kitchen and decided to wait to crank the coffeepot until after Aiden left.

Tim’s be-careful-I’ll-talk-to-you-later note lay on the countertop. Immediately the idea of her two friends together popped unbidden in her mind.
Nope, not gonna go there
.

Aiden stood in the doorway, still in his mountain wear but now he had a briefcase.

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“Off to work?” she asked.

He looked from her to the counter behind. “No coffee.”

“Who are you? My doctor?” Okay so she’d
thought
it.

His gaze, cobalt and hot as lightning ran over her again. “Depends.” He walked closer.