For Her Eyes Only (20 page)

“Thanks, Paula. So, tell me more about this business empire you want to start up,” Vicky said.

Ryan listened with half an ear as Paula launched into convoluted detail about her ideal business, and how Kurt’s wealthy family were going to help with the startup costs. There was a lot of hand-rolling, a lot of “whatever”, and then a deep-throated laugh that had him turning to her. The woman had quite a vocal range. Yet she couldn’t hold a tune to save her life.
Go figure.

Kurt came up to the table with another round of shots for the guys, and a round of sodas for the women. Hank, Jeffrey and Elliot crowed their appreciation.
They almost look like a bunch of rowdy frat boys
. Ryan nodded his thanks when Kurt handed him his shot of some dark, lethal-looking liquor. Kurt raised his glass, and all the men followed suit, and Ryan smiled through gritted teeth. He couldn’t pour this one into the drunken plant behind him. He swallowed the liquor, and relished the slow burn down his throat that bloomed into his chest. Whatever it was, it was smooth, like velvet, with a punch like steel.

Margie finished her song, and they all cheered. Jeffrey got up to greet his wife, and wobbled a bit.

“Whoa, there, buddy,” Kurt said, catching him around the waist and supporting him. Margie shot him a look born of long-term tolerance.

“I think it’s time we went home,” she told him, a patient smile crossing her lips.

Jeffrey threw back his head and laughed, and Kurt dragged the swaying man closer. “I think you’re right,” Jeffrey said, grinning.

Hank rose, and Deborah stood with him, holding onto his arm. “You, too, tiger,” she laughed.

Everyone else started to make similar noises for departure, and Ryan rose with Vicky. She laughed as she ducked under his arm, and he tugged her closer, enjoying the warmth of her body against his.

“Hey, big guy, you better let me drive,” she said, loud enough for the others to hear. He shook his head. He was fine to drive, having given most of his drinks to the now-floating plant behind him.

“Nah, I’m good, sweetheart,” he told her. He knew exactly what she was doing.

She shook her head, adamant. “No, I insist. You’ve all been drinking. I’ll drive us back to the resort.” She held out her hand, and he looked at her pale skin, her long fingers, then glanced up at the group. They were all looking at him expectantly. He had to go with the act, damn it, and pretend to be as drunk as the rest of them. And she knew it, the minx. He dug in his pocket, intentionally swaying against her as he did, yet still careful of her knee. She was good, she took it all in her stride.

“Here,” he said, and dropped the keys to the car in her hand. She met his gaze, a low little twinkle that temporarily obscured her wariness and sorrow. She was playing with him.

He grinned at her. Two could play at this. He leaned down and kissed her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

He swayed, and she had to clutch him to maintain her balance, as the group cheered them on. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, teasing, gliding. Her fingers tightened on his jacket lapel, and her breath hitched. He raised his head and gave her a goofy smile. “Okay. You can drive.”

Her eyes were closed, and she opened them, desire and confusion quickly swamped with an exasperation quickly hidden by a demure smile.

“Damn you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. She would have looked like she was murmuring sweet nothings to him.

“Right back at you, Buttercup.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her handbag, guiding him along behind the others who were already heading out the tavern door. He leaned lightly on her as they walked through the parking lot, trying to look like a standup drunk while helping his limping partner to the car. They waved to the other couples as one by one, they drove off. He chuckled as she struggled to keep him upright. She helped him to the passenger side and opened the door.

“I’m all right to drive, you know,” he told her.

She smiled sweetly. “I know.” She pushed him down into the passenger seat, his head bumping against the doorframe as he fell in.

Hank and Deborah pulled up next to them. “Is everything okay?” Deborah asked. Ryan looked at Hank. The man looked like he was already asleep in his seat.

“Everything is fine, thanks, Deborah,” Vicky said, grinning. Ryan felt the skin around his eyes tightening.

“Don’t forget what I told you,” Deborah said, eyeing Ryan meaningfully.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Vicky went to close the door, and Ryan had to move quickly to avoid breaking a foot. He watched as Vicky limped lightly around the front of the car, waving to Deborah as she drove off.

“What was that all about?” he asked Vicky as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Never mind. Girl talk. Buckle up.”

He fastened his seat belt and tried to look relaxed as Vicky started the engine and drove out of the lot. Snow had fallen, and the temperature had dropped dramatically. The roads would be icy.

He didn’t know where to put his hands. He was riding in a car. Not driving.

They turned a corner, and he clutched his seatbelt.

God help him, Vicky was driving.

* * *

Drew walked past the door to the suite of offices and paused. He hadn’t checked there, yet. The glass swing door bore a frosted Ultima crest. The lights beyond were soft, muted. He pushed the glass entry door opened and stopped to listen. Silence. He wasn’t sure where the counselors or Meagan James were.

He closed the glass door quietly behind him, and walked calmly across the plush carpet. He’d just opened the door to Meagan’s office when the woman herself breezed into the suite behind him. She paused when she saw him at her door.

“You don’t happen to know where any of the guests are, do you?”

Ryan had briefly mentioned a trip into town to a karaoke bar, of all places, but he wasn’t about to tattle on the AWOL guests. Leaving the resort, alcohol, and any other vice that could be had in town were strictly off the program at Ultima.

“Er, no.”

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone abrupt. She wasn’t in a good mood.

Drew thought quickly. What could he say? “Uh, yes, actually. I’m looking for Mandy, from Housekeeping? I can’t find her, anywhere.”

Meagan’s eyes narrowed as she swept past him into her office. “Mandy? Oh, Mandy.” She turned to face him, recognition in her eyes. “Yes, I know Mandy from Housekeeping. She didn’t show up for her shift this afternoon.” Her lips tightened with barely controlled frustration. “I got a note under my office door from her.” She crossed over to a filing cabinet and pulled open a drawer, rifling through the contents until she found the file she was looking for.

“Maybe you can help me understand,” she told him. She opened the file and held out a scrap of paper. He scanned the contents of the handwritten note, jagged lines on the long form letters suggesting a haste and impatience on the part of the note writer.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this, anymore. I have to leave, Mandy,” he read aloud. He frowned. She’d said nothing to him about a crisis, or a struggle to remain at the resort. In fact, she’d seemed quite happy, to him and to the rest of the staff, he’d asked around.

Meagan stuffed the note back inside the folder, shoved the file back in the drawer and closed it with a bang. “She’s walked out in the middle of a retreat, damn it. She couldn’t give me one more day. Hell, she couldn’t even tell me to my face, but left a damned note.”

The resort manager took a deep breath, as though trying to calm herself, and met his gaze, sympathy finally edging in.

“You were close to her, were you?”

Drew shrugged. “We were friends.”

“Close friends?”

“No, just friends.”

Meagan grimaced. “Yet she didn’t tell you that she was leaving, either. Maybe none of us knew her as well as we thought we did.”

Drew kept his expression calm. “Yeah, I guess. Well, thanks for letting me know.”

Meagan nodded. “If she contacts you, can you please tell her to call me? She’s left her stuff, with no forwarding address.” The woman sighed. “I suppose she expects us to mail it to her.”

Drew nodded and waved, and left her office, closing the door behind him, and rested against the paneled surface. Mandy was gone. That was a surprise. She hadn’t seemed overly stressed or anxious about anything. He sighed. That’s what happens when there were lies in a relationship. Surprises. Too many damned surprises.

* * *

Vicky kept her eyes on the road. Sleet was falling, little balls of ice that hit the windscreen like polystyrene balls from a bean bag. The windscreen wipers were nearly useless, the breeze pulling the ice back, then flinging it at the windshield in between slides of the blades.
Thank goodness for snow tires
. The conditions were challenging, but she loved a challenge. Getting people and items from Point A to Point B in the quickest possible time was her thing.

“What did Deborah mean?” Ryan asked. She didn’t look at him, knew he still had a white-knuckle grip on his damned seatbelt as though he expected her to crash the car at any moment.
Sheesh
.

“We were just talking about relationships in general,” Vicky said. In particular, about Deborah’s desperate need to have a baby, and Vicky’s Kiss of Boredom effect on the opposite sex, namely her husband. Well, the man posing as her husband. Vicky shifted in her seat. She’d kind of felt obligated to share once Deborah had virtually presented her heart in her palm while they were looking through the song lists. The woman had given her some tips on how to shake her husband out of his complacency. She blinked. Dress sexy, for starters. Anything that involved oysters, honey, chocolate or cream apparently worked well too.

She kept her eyes glued on the road. She wasn’t about to tell Ryan anything about
that
conversation. Not after what had happened at the Christmas party. She didn’t think she could go for a second round of Ultimate Humiliation.

“Hmm, there was a lot of that going around,” Ryan observed, and it took Vicky a moment to realize he wasn’t talking about her humiliation. “Hank and Jeffrey shared way too much information.”

“Oh, like what?”

“Well, that locket we found in Margie’s jewelry box? That was the baby she gave up for adoption.”

Vicky’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Oh, wait, there’s more. Hank’s had a vasectomy.”

Vicky’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God! And Deborah doesn’t know?” A bright light, shining briefly, caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Headlights a fair distance behind them caught the mirror every now and then as they started up the long mountain drive to the resort.

“Of course Deborah doesn’t know, otherwise she wouldn’t be trying to get pregnant,” Vicky answered her own question, focusing on the road again. She shook her head. “You know, if they’re not the Maxwells, they’re still pretty screwed up. Fancy not telling your partner something so important.”

Ryan shrugged. “Sometimes there are good reasons for keeping secrets.”

This time she did look over at him. What secrets was he keeping from her? “And sometimes there are good reasons to trust,” she said, looking pointedly at his death grip on the strap across his chest.

He reluctantly let go, his hands dropping to his lap, fluttering momentarily as though unsure what to do with them. “Well, I think we’ve learned some more details that will help us either verify their story, or trip up their cover.”

Vicky frowned. “How are we going to prove Hank’s had a vasectomy? Sure, there might be medical records, but how does that prove that the guy here this week is actually Hank and not Simon Maxwell?”

Lights in the rearview mirror loomed, this time much closer. She blinked. A lot closer.

“I don’t know, Vic. Surely there’s some way to prove it.”

“Well, yeah, you know...” Her brother had had a vasectomy after the boys were born. She’d had too many conversations with him on the subject. The only way she could think to test it would require getting to know Hank on a whole new personal level. She’d be happy to take his word for it.

Ryan stared at her. “What?”

She looked at him briefly. “You know.” She stared meaningfully at his crotch.

Ryan’s expression of horror was almost comical. “Vic! No. Oh, hell, no.”

Vicky shrugged. “Well, that’s pretty much the only way.”

“No. Not happening. Let’s talk about something else.” He shook his shoulders, as though something cold and disgusting had settled on his back. “Damn, Vic.”

She laughed. “I didn’t realize you were so squeamish.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I have standards.”

His words reminded her of their previous chat outside Margie and Jeffrey’s cabin, and she sobered. She’d hurt his feelings, and it had been bothering her ever since. “I know you do, Ryan. I’m so sorry, I never meant—”

Light bounced from the rearview mirror blinding her as the car was hit from behind. Both she and Ryan lurched forward, and her hands gripped the wheel as she struggled to keep the car under control. The vehicle that had trailed behind from town was now right behind them.

Her gaze flicked to the mirror. The lights were growing larger. The vehicle was coming closer. It was going to ram them again.
Idiot
. Maybe it was some drunkard on the way home from town.

Metal screeched against metal, and their car jolted forward again. She felt the car slide a little on the icy surface of the road.

Ryan swore as he twisted around in his belt. Vicky eyed the mountain road ahead. It was dark, there were no streetlights this far out from town. Their headlights cut glowing swathes across alternate stretches of snow and heavily forested mountainside, ice slurries slowly turning to big fat flakes. She couldn’t tell what kind of car it was behind them, all she could see were headlights in her mirror. And they were coming closer—again.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, and their car shuddered across the ice, tires slipping as she prayed for traction. The car heaved as the tires finally gripped the road.

But the vehicle was right behind them, bearing down on them.

They were coming up to a bend in the road. If the vehicle nudged them, even just a little, it could send them flying off the edge and down the mountainside. She sped up, trying to increase the distance between the two cars.

Ryan had one arm around the backrest of his seat, the other along the dashboard, and he stared out of the windshield. “Careful, Vic,” he said, his tone calm.

“I know.” Yeah, she knew. If they took the bend too fast, they’d skid and go over the edge. If they were too slow, and got hit from behind, they’d skid and go over the edge. Either way, it would be painful.

“Hang on,” she cried. She shifted down in gear and took her foot of the accelerator, but didn’t brake as she entered the bend. The car drifted a little across the road, and she gritted her teeth as she held on to the steering wheel, praying.

The downgrade in gear was enough to slow the vehicle enough to take the bend. She sighed in relief as they cleared the curve. She lowered her head, eyes alternating between mirror and road, trying to keep her rear fender out of reach of the vehicle behind them.

They were approaching another bend. She tried the same maneuver, tried to get a little further ahead so that she had time to slow.

This time she pumped the brake, just a little, as they entered the turn, easing off almost immediately. The vehicle raced up and clipped the bumper. Vicky screamed and Ryan yelled as she felt the tail of the car spin across the road. The car shuddered as the rear wheel on the passenger side left the surface of the road, spinning across a rough shoulder.

Vicky fought her natural instinct to slam on the brakes and yank on the wheel, even when she felt the slight dip in the car as the rear passenger wheel left the edge of the road, skidding across air.

Her grip tight, she gently nudged the steering wheel, her foot coming off the accelerator pedal until she could see the middle of the road again.

“Damn you,” she yelled at the rearview mirror. This wasn’t an accident. Someone was deliberately trying to run them off the road.

“Sonovabitch!” Ryan roared as the vehicle nudged them. Both cars were tearing up the straight stretch of road, trying to jockey for position.

“There he is, coming up on your right,” Ryan called. Vicky swerved, blocking the path of the vehicle. If the offending car managed to creep up the side it wouldn’t take much effort to ram them off the road.

For several hair-raising seconds, both cars navigated the bends and straights with the intensity of a Formula One race. The car shuddered with each hit from the vehicle. Perspiration ran down Vicky’s forehead, and she blinked furiously, trying to keep it out of her eyes.

The vehicle hit them again, this time aiming its force at their rear right wheel. Vicky wrestled with the wheel as Ryan swore.

They were coming up to yet another bend.
Okay
,
this has gone on too long
,
you bastard
. Firming her lips, Vicky sped into the turn and gently braked, ignoring Ryan’s yell as the car started to slide. This time she swung the wheel in the direction the car was turning, foot easing down on the brake, and she pulled up the handbrake at the same time. As though in slow motion she watched eddying snowflakes, then trees and a wall of rock swerve across the windscreen. It was almost graceful, like a ballet, she thought as the car spun, tires screaming, her muscles bunching with the effort to keep the car controlled as it swerved in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree arc.

And then they were facing the direction from which they’d come, headlights bearing down on them directly through the dark and snow.

“Uh, Vicky,” Ryan called.

“Come on, you son of a bitch,” she growled, and threw the car into gear, tires screaming as she released the handbrake.

“Vicky!”

She pressed her foot on the accelerator, and roared as the car launched forward.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” Ryan yelled, and braced himself against the dashboard.

Tires screamed, and a horn blared. The vehicle swerved to avoid them, tearing around them at the last moment.

Shift down. Brake. Turn wheel, lift handbrake. She didn’t have time to think it, her body acted autonomously as she turned the car around again as the other vehicle drove off the side of the road and down the mountainside. Branches and leaves flew up in its path, and then there was nothing, just empty road.

Vicky stared out of the windshield, eyes wide, grip tight.

Ryan also stared out the windscreen. “Are you okay, Vic?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

She had to consciously relax her hold on the steering wheel, force her shoulders to drop. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Her hands were shaking, she felt like she was going to pee, but she was still in one piece.

Ryan nodded. “Good. You did good.” He pressed the release on his seatbelt and thrust open the passenger door. He swore as he got out, a word so rude it almost shocked her. Almost.

Icy wind carried in drifts of snow and ice. She repeated the word as he slammed the door and stormed over to the side of the road, his hands on his hips, his dark jacket draped like wings, snow falling around him to pile at his feet. He stood for a moment, his dark figure illuminated like an angel of darkness standing on a cloud, then he launched himself over the side of the road, disappearing from view.

“Ryan!” Vicky screamed.

* * *

Gavin sat at his desk, toying with his silver-plated pen, waiting. It wasn’t long before there was a discrete knock at his door.
Finally
.

“Come in,” he called, tilting his head back against the leather cushion of his office chair. He watched as the woman opened the door and entered his office. She smiled.

“I came in as soon as I got your message,” she said, her voice soft, throaty.

“Where’s your partner in crime?” he asked. He slipped the pen next to the letter opener in their caddy. He watched with satisfaction as her smile faltered.
Gotcha
.

She frowned as she closed the door behind her. “I don’t understand.”

He watched as she walked up to his desk. She was an attractive woman, there was no denying it. Her calm smile and friendly manner had masked a very clever little criminal. But she wasn’t clever enough to fool him. He’d had his suspicions about her and her partner almost immediately. Their history had checked out—on file. He’d made some calls, though, asked more intrusive questions. It had taken some digging, but he could finally prove they weren’t who they said they were.

His lips lifted in a smile. “I know.”

Her frown deepened. “You know what?”

“I know you and your partner are fakes.”

She looked taken aback for a moment, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. Her brow arched as she trailed a neatly manicured finger along the edge of his desk. “Is that so?” she asked, her lips lifting in a secretive little smile. She wasn’t going to deny it. She knew he was too smart for that.

“Yes.” His groin tightened as he watched that pretty little nail trail. She was a beautiful liar, and she’d been caught out. “I guessed something was off when you insisted on all communication through email and phone...I thought the conference calls we had were a nice touch, though.” He shook his head, half in admiration. She and her partner had gone to great lengths to create an elaborate lie. He wondered how far she was prepared to go to keep her secret. Arousal spiked through him as he watched the scarlet nail lightly scratch his blotter. He’d planned to reveal their duplicity, make the appropriate noises when the cops came in, but maybe he could have a little fun, first. “Where is he?” He’d expected her partner to accompany her.

She peeped at him from under her lashes. “He’s...busy. Why don’t we settle this between you and me?” She lifted a hip to rest on the side of his desk and leaned over. His gaze dropped to her cleavage. She’d unbuttoned the two top buttons of her blouse. His eyes narrowed. As though she’d planned this. But he was the one in control, not her.

“And what do you think you can offer me?” he asked dryly.

She smiled slowly, all seduction and secrets. “Silence.”

He frowned. “Silence? Why would I be interested in that?”

She made a pretty moue with her lips. “Oh, perhaps because I know you like to...listen.”

Gavin’s features froze. She knew? She knew about
that
?

She winked. “See, you’re not the only one who likes uncovering secrets,” she whispered. She rose from the desk and walked around to his chair, pushing him back so that she could slide in between his thighs and lean back against the desk.

How the hell had she figured that one out? Nobody knew, damn it. Anger rose in him, like a kettle on a slow boil. He could feel it building inside him. This—his woman thought she could blackmail
him
? No,
he
was the one in control, damn it. And he wasn’t about to fall for her siren ploys.

“I don’t think so,” he said quietly. No. He wasn’t about to let her have that power over him. He’d get rid of it all. By the time the sheriff arrived up here, he could bury everything. His word against hers, and he was a psychologist, damn it. He could be convincing. She sighed as she leaned back, her palm resting on his desk at the edge of his blotter, her pinkie finger gently tapping against the rim of his silver-plated stationery set.

He set his features into a serene mask. “I’m afraid that’s not enough,” he said, smiling coolly at her. She leaned closer, flashing that distracting cleavage again. He gazed down at the expanse of creamy breast revealed by her opened blouse. He caught a glimpse of white lace.

“Are you sure we can’t work something out?” she breathed suggestively as she fingered the collar of his shirt. His breath shortened as his cock throbbed, and he shifted his hips forward on the chair.

He’d let her “work something out.” Then he’d call the cops. “Keep talking,” he said, his smile growing broader.

Her eyes narrowed, just a little, before the smile again bloomed across her face. “Why don’t I show you, instead,” she murmured. “Lean back, close your eyes.” She trailed her hand down toward his fly.

He did as she told him, feeling the light touch of fingers dancing down his zipper, then a hot piercing force exploded in his chest. He opened his eyes, crying out in pain. His eyes moved past the letter opener buried in his chest to the woman who now leaned over him, her eyes cold and glittery as she pulled the blade from his chest.

“You should have taken my first offer,” she told him, before she plunged the blade anew. He watched, mouth agape as a blood trail streamed across those pretty white breasts. His blood. He tried to fend her off, but his arms defied his reflexive command, sluggishly moving on the arms of his chair instead of blocking her next strike, and her next.

His head rolled back, too heavy for him to hold steady. His heart pounded in his ears. Dum da dum. Dum. Da. Dum. Dum. Dum. His last thought as his pierced organ struggled in his chest was that he’d been wrong. She’d been in control the whole time.

“You should have taken my silence when you had the chance,” she whispered in his ear, and his breath rattled in his chest. He couldn’t even move his head to look at her.

“Instead, I’ll take yours.”

His vision cloudy, it dimmed to final black as she walked out the door.

* * *

Vicky bolted from the car and ran across to the road’s edge, heart pounding.
Oh
,
God
,
Ryan!
She skidded to a stop, pebbles and clumps of snow falling over the cusp of the road. Snow fell softly, dampening her uncovered head and eyelashes. Deep, dark furrows clearly showed the path the vehicle had taken, and several trees had been knocked over as it had barreled down the side of the mountain.

She blinked against the snow.
Ryan
,
where’s Ryan?
What if he’d been killed? The possibility that she’d lost him forever was almost crippling. Desolation, sharp and swift, cut straight to her gut, and she doubled over, desperately, frantically peering through the darkness, trying to see past the bright tracks from her own headlights. There. Something dark moved close by, and she tracked the movement through the pine trees and underbrush. Ryan was steadily making his way down to the wreck, skidding occasionally in the snow.

“Ryan, wait!”

“Stay there, Vic,” he yelled back.

She dithered for a moment. Should she wait up here, or get down there with her partner? She rolled her eyes. What a question.

“Screw it,” she muttered, and stepped over the edge, her booted foot sinking into several deep inches of snow. She swore at the shock of icy wetness that crept through her jeans, and the resulting twinge in her knee.

I
hate the cold
.

She stared down further to the wreck. It was a crumpled mess, and flames licked from the undercarriage, creating an eerie glow against the snow. And Ryan was heading straight for it.

“Wait up, Ryan.”

He continued to make his way down the mountain, disappearing from view behind the occasional pine tree in the process.

She started to clamber down, picking her way carefully through the darkness. She was climbing over a fallen tree when the car exploded.

The noise startled her, and she fell backward as a ball of swirling spheres of golden-red flames tinged with black clouds roiled into the air. A faint wave of heat hit her, quickly replaced with an icy wind, as though the atmosphere was reacting to a vacuum.

“Ryan!” she yelled, panicking. Where was he? She’d lost sight of him. “Ryan!” Had he been close to the wreck when it blew? Was he hurt—oh, heck, was he dead? For a moment the possibility of Ryan’s death loomed, like a mountain of desolation.
No
,
please
,
no
. She didn’t want to lose Ryan. She levered herself up out of the snowy bank, hands shaking as she again hauled herself over the fallen tree trunk.