Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (39 page)

They’d … talk.

Hopefully, he could get her to realize that she didn’t really love him.

The idea settled inside him, uncomfortable and hollow, so he shoved it aside.

He’d go out to his place. He spent too little time there as it was.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Shayla Hardee was a lot of things, but she wasn’t stupid.

She’d been doing this a long, long time, after all. She’d started out small and worked her up. She’d made a few mistakes on the way—and a few of them had almost gotten her in trouble, but she’d lived and learned.

Along the way, she’d collected quite a few cards in her deck, including a cop, a news anchor over in Baton Rouge, more than a few businessmen throughout the state, a judge or two, and most recently, a damn state
senator
.

This latest one, though … oh, he was a feather in her cap.

She’d been trying for years to get this sort of mark. She checked the time as she killed the engine. She was early—very early. Roger was out of town. He told her he had a business thing to deal with, but she knew the truth. He had some stupid little trailer-trash whore about a half an hour away. Really, Shayla didn’t care. She had her own fun, but she was careful when and where she took it.

She might take some of her fun tonight, even, after she dealt with business.

She got to the marina early and took her time setting up the cameras—there was the first one, set up in a fairly obvious manner. But the other one? That was the kicker and it took a few minutes.

The second one had to go in a place where it couldn’t possibly be seen, but would still catch everything. She’d started doing this after one of her
clients
—really, that is how she saw them—had tried to get physical.

She was nervous.

This could be big—so big.

But that meant dangerous, too. The bigger the pig, the bigger the danger. But she’d stay in the light, by her car, keep her distance while they did business. If he tried to get too close or get her to walk anywhere with him? She had the sweet little handgun Roger had given her for Christmas. She was a damn good shot, too.

Minutes ticked by.

As the hour got later, Shayla’s nerves got stronger and she checked her watch, checked the parking lot, listened hard. The narrow path that led her was so narrow and rutted with potholes big enough to bury a car, there was no way anybody could sneak up on her. He wasn’t here.

What if he wasn’t coming?

Swearing, she started to pace.

She’d been so certain.

Agitated, she checked the gravel road once more and then hurried over to the camera, giving it one final check.

Was that a car—

Something came around her throat.

“What—”

“Idiot.” It was delivered in a cool, condescending voice. “You stupid cow, did you really think you could manipulate me so easily?”

He jerked harder. Shayla’s feet left the ground and terror had her reaching up, dragging her nails down the back of his hands, trying to claw her way free.

She couldn’t breathe.

 … couldn’t … breathe …

*   *   *

He dropped her body to the ground, chest heaving as he struggled to slow his breathing. She was stronger than she’d looked. Stronger, and stupider.

Dead now.

He knelt by her side and touched her throat, just to be certain.

There was no pulse.

Her eyes were wide and fixed, staring up overhead.

He checked the camera she’d set up by her car. What had she planned to do? Immortalize her own stupidity?

Behind the mask he wore, he smiled.

In a way, she’d done just that.

They’d find her body. A murder in such a small town was rarely forgotten.

*   *   *

Her back braced against the tree, Hannah struggled not to make a sound.

He was moving through the trees now, quick and fast, and she was torn between taking off after him or rushing to Shayla’s side. Okay, there was a third urge—the urge to tuck herself into a ball and hide, but she’d done that for too much of her life. She’d watched her mother get knocked around and she’d never done anything to help her.

But she could try to help Shayla.

Something too strong to be called frustration gnawed at her as she slipped around the tree, moving with care and watching the darkness around her, waiting for him to come back.

She clutched a heavy branch in one hand, the bark all but cutting into her palm from how hard she gripped it. If she hadn’t dropped and busted her phone, she could have already called for help.

But she was nearly a mile from the dock where she kept her houseboat.

Terror chittering inside, Hannah knelt by Shayla and had to swallow the urge to puke. She’d dealt with dead people before. She was a paramedic. It was almost a job requirement.

But she’d never
seen
anybody killed and her vision kept trying to gray out on her and her stomach was violently heaving.

Shayla’s skin was still warm, her eyes wide open and staring.

With another look around, she bent over and straightened Shayla’s neck. She’d try to resuscitate her for a minute, but if she didn’t have any luck, she’d have to call for help. She fell into the rhythm and each second dragged by.

Nothing.

She bent over, blew another desperate breath into Shayla’s mouth.

Breathe
!

A branch cracked.

Jerking her head up, she stared into the darkness.

A shadow, darker than the rest.

Shit
.

Jumping up, she grabbed the branch. Something clinked near her feet and she looked down.

Keys
!

She swiped them and took off running, never more thankful for the running habit she’d developed back when she was struggling to lose weight in college.

She never ran fast, but the ground seemed to fly by under her feet and she burst into the small parking lot just as she heard a low, ugly voice behind her.

He’d seen her.

She dove for Shayla’s car. Phone. There’d be a phone—

Jerking on the handle, she shot one look back.

“Fuck the phone,” she whispered. He was there, on the edge of the tree line and bearing down on her far faster than she could hope to move. Diving into the car, she fumbled the keys.

Darkness hid too much of him and she was too afraid to look at him as she threw the car into drive and punched the gas.

Shayla’s sleek, sexy little Mustang convertible took off and she blasted by him just as he made a lunge for the car.

“Thank God.” Hannah sucked in a gulp of air. “Thank God.”

She started to shake but she fought the tremors back. She could go into shock later. Much later.

Darting a look down into the seat, she saw Shayla’s phone. “Oh, thank God.” She breathed out a sigh of relief and grabbed the phone. Chancing one look behind her, she whipped the wheel to the right.

She shot another look at the parking lot. It was empty, the brightly lit concrete square empty from the road to the river.

Daring to breathe out a tiny sigh of relief, she hit the screen. It was locked, but she had a similar model. Emergency calls.

Saying a prayer, Hannah dialied
9-1-1
.

When it started to ring, she almost began to cry.

“I need…” She gulped in. “This is Hannah Parker. I need to report a murder. Shayla—”

Somebody stumbled into the road and she jerked the wheel.

As she screamed, the call-taker calmly said, “Ma’am, please slow down…”

Too late
.

The car hit the tree with a thunderous crash.

*   *   *

“I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

Neve glared balefully at her sister over a half-eaten slice of pizza. “I’m most definitely an idiot.”

Moira swallowed the bite she’d just taken and then asked, “So are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I just did.” Dumping the slice on the plate, Neve put her food down and settled more comfortably into the couch. A movie played on the giant screen on the wall in front of them but she couldn’t say what had happened. She was too busy brooding.

“Okay, not that I think you’re an idiot, but how about you tell me what’s up and then we discuss your idiot status.”

“It’s Ian…” Her voice tripped and then to her disgust, she started to cry.

“Hey, hey…”

Moira settled down next to her and she found herself wrapped in her sister’s arms. It took forever and no time at all. When the storm ended, Moira murmured into her hair, “I think that was long overdue, sis.”

Neve sniffled.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“So you’ve said. But how about some details?”

Details? Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her face against Moira’s shoulder. Then, slowly, she started to talk.

Moira listened without saying anything, but once she finished, Moira brushed her hair back. “So, first thing … you’re not an idiot. You went through hell and you panicked. Second thing, Ian’s a great guy—and
he’s
not an idiot. Chances are, he already knows all of this.”

“I
was
stupid,” Neve said, folding her arms across her belly and resting her head on the thickly padded back of the couch.

“Oh, stop. You’re not an idiot.” Moira turned to face her, crossing her legs. Clad in a cami and pajama bottoms, she still managed to look regal, like a queen. “You know what happened, I bet.”

“I panicked.” Swallowing, Neve looked away.

She’d freaked out over nothing.

Okay. Maybe it hadn’t been
nothing
.

But she’d hurt Ian—she knew she had and for no good reason.

William had taken her over and she knew it. Looking back now, she could even see how clearly, how easily he’d manipulated her.

Ian, though, wasn’t taking her over. He was filling her up. Filling up all those hollow and empty spaces and it felt
wonderful
.

She’d spent most of the day brooding over it and she needed to just call him. Or go see him.

She went to brush the idea aside.

“He works Fridays. He’ll be there until two or three in the morning, I bet,” Moira said.

For a moment, she just stared at her sister. No. She couldn’t just up and go out there. It was already past ten.

But then …

She closed her eyes and saw his face in her mind.

Spinning away, she said, “I have to change.”

*   *   *

Feeling a little lighter, Neve rushed through a shower and dressed in some of the new clothes she’d picked up a few days ago. Skinny skirt, a blue silk top with a draping neckline, heels.

She didn’t let herself primp because she was already nervous. Besides, she looked good. One thing she knew how to do was turn herself out. Clothes were armor and she’d always armed herself well.

“Well, damn.”

Coming up short in the doorway of the kitchen, Neve stared at Moira.

“What?” She shifted from one foot to the other.

“You look gorgeous.” Moira held an unopened bottle of wine and a corkscrew. “So. Go get him.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Neve said, moving to lean against the counter next to Moira.

“Oh, honey.” Moira put down the wine bottle and hugged her sister. She gave her a quick hug and went back to opening the bottle. As she poured a glass, she continued to speak. “Look, this isn’t the end of the world. You had a fight—they happen. Now you just have to talk to him.”

Restless, Neve started to pace. “I don’t … Moira, I don’t know how to do relationships.”

“Well, I’m with you there.” Making a face, Moira lifted her wine and took a sip. “I’m not exactly a pro at them, as you well know. But I think the key here is just … let it happen.”

“Let
what
happen?” Neve twisted her fingers together. “I … Moira, I feel crazy things for him and I barely know him.”

“There’s plenty of time for that. But Neve, sweetie, if you two could see the way you look together, the way you look
at
each other … you
fit
. I’ve never seen anybody fit together the way you two do.” A faint smile curved her lips, sad and sweet. “Except maybe Mom and Dad.”

“You and Gideon fit.”

Moira closed her eyes. Then she took another drink of wine—a
huge
drink—tossing it back like it was whiskey. “We were young,” she said softly. “We were very young and life was too complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.” Neve almost let it go at that. “And you’re not young now. And he still loves you.”

Moira’s response was the last thing Neve expected to hear. “I know.” With a small shrug, Moira turned away.

“You know,” Neve said slowly. “You still love him.” This time, Moira said nothing, but Neve didn’t let that deter her. “You know he still loves you and you still love him. What are you waiting for?”

“I hurt him,” Moira said. “I did what was necessary—”

“It
wasn’t
necessary but screw that. Forget about that. It’s done. Worry about
now
.”
Worry about now …
Neve drew in a breath. “And that’s what I need to do.”

“Sounds like good advice.” Moira brooded into her wine. “So get out of here.”

Neve moved to her sister and grabbed her in a tight hug as giddiness welled inside her.

“Hey,” Moira said, laughing. “You’re going to make me spill wine all over you.”

“I’m going to stop this,” she said, pulling back and staring at her sister. “I’m going to stop worrying about
everything
—sometimes I still feel like I’m trapped but it’s my own fear doing it now, not William. I’m stopping this.”

“Good.”

Yeah … A smile bloomed across her face, a weight falling away. Yeah, it was good.

So William was lurking around somewhere. Maybe he was in town and maybe he wasn’t, but she wasn’t going to let him ruin any more of her life. She wasn’t going to stay caged by fear and she wasn’t going to let him control every action she did, even if it was just through the memories.

“I’m going to see Ian. I’m fixing this,” she said. “And you should call Gideon.”