Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (19 page)

She held her silence and heard him swear softly before he slammed his palm on the “stop” button. The elevator jerked to a halt somewhere between the fourth and third floors. Her feet nearly slipped out from under her, and her briefcase banged against the walls of the car. “What are you doing?” she nearly screamed.

“I'm going to talk, damn it, and you're going to listen!”

“No way!” She reached behind him, trying to press the control panel, but he caught her wrist and shoved her back against the wooden panels of the elevator car. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered, shocked at his nerve. Who did he think he was? “Let go of me!”

“You're the one who should come to your senses.”

“About what?”

“Us, Marnie. We could be good together.”

“Oh,
pleeease.
” She couldn't believe he still thought
she cared. What an incredible ego! She pulled hard on her arm, but he didn't release her. “Let go of me, Kent,” she warned, wondering if she should scream or kick. Screaming would attract attention—probably the wrong kind—and kicking him might make him all the more violent.

“I mean it,” he persisted, his face close to hers. “We've got so much going for us already. Your dad approves of me, he bought us the boat—”

“A big mistake. We've got nothing, Kent. Release me immediately and I won't cause a scene.”

He didn't hear her, but rambled on. “I'm sorry for Dolores and for talking out of turn to the press. I made some mistakes, and don't you think I've paid for them?” For a second a glimmer of intense pain surfaced in his hazel eyes.

She didn't buy it.

“Come on, Marnie. Why don't you and I take the boat for a cruise, try to patch things up?”

“I don't want to hear this, Kent,” she said, her voice edged in steel as she glared at him. Motioning toward the control panel with her briefcase, she said, “You've had your little drama, now take your hands off me and let's get going. I have another appointment.”

“With whom?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Drake?” Kent demanded, and his fingers tightened around her wrist, pinching her skin. Her stomach roiled.

“Stop it—”

“He doesn't care for you, you know. You saw that up on the island.” Kent's face was so close to hers she could see the beads of sweat on his upper lip. “He's using you, Marnie. To get back at your father, or me, or whoever else he thinks hurt him. He doesn't care for you and he never will.”

He voiced all her own insecurities, but she managed to
lift her chin a fraction and stare into his eyes. “Let me go, you bastard. Or I'll call security.”

Kent sneered, and his breath was hot against her face. For the first time since entering the car with him she felt real fear. “You think he loves you, don't you? Oh, God, Marnie, you're such a fool.” He laughed coldly before his lips crashed down on hers with a possessive force that repelled her. Her stomach roiled again, and she struggled, pushing against his shoulders and trying to kick him in the shins. But he sidestepped her blow and kissed her all the harder, groaning low in his throat and pinning her hard against the elevator wall. His mouth ground down on hers with a savagery that scared her to death. She stopped struggling, went absolutely rigid in his arms.

He tried to turn her on. His hands moved against her back, his lips played across hers, but she remained stiff and unresponsive as a statue, knowing instinctively that if she fought him, he'd misconstrue her struggle for passion. When he lifted his head for a second, she moved quickly, biting his lip, then lunging past him and hitting the control panel with both hands.

He yipped. The car jolted, nearly toppling them both before resuming its downward flight.

“Don't you
ever
touch me again,” she warned furiously, brandishing her briefcase as if she'd hit him with it. “If you ever,
ever
lay so much as one finger on me, I'll have you up on charges so fast your head will spin.”

Blood surfaced at the corner of his mouth, but she didn't feel a shred of remorse. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. “You're making a big mistake,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he attended his wound.

“Not as big as the one I made when I got engaged to you.”

His face twisted as if he really were in pain. He blinked
hard, and his voice cracked when he whispered, “I love you, Marnie,” but he didn't try to reach for her again.

“No, Kent,” she replied as the elevator hit ground level. “You love yourself. And my father's money. And the boat. Nothing else really matters to you.” She turned and left him, pretending she didn't hear when he called after her.

“That boat is half mine! I've still got my things,
my
things on board,” he yelled.

Marnie didn't bother turning around. She crossed the tiled foyer of the hotel, walked through a revolving door and took big gulps of rain-washed air. She was shaking all over and she thought she might throw up at the thought of Kent's hands on her. She went to the nearest phone booth and dialed Adam's number. If only she could see him, touch him…but that was crazy. She was lucky to be rid of Kent; she couldn't rush things with Adam. She wasn't even sure that she wanted Adam as part of her life.

But he already was.

With that disturbing thought, she hung up the unanswered phone, walked back into the building and ran down the stairs to the parking lot.

* * *

I
T TOOK ANOTHER WEEK
for Victor to call. In that time Marnie hadn't seen much of Adam, but that was her choice. No men. No complications. “And no fun,” Donna informed her when she heard about Marnie's philosophy. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

“‘They,' whoever they are, could be wrong,” Marnie replied.

She and Donna had just finished lunch—take-out Chinese food—and Donna was getting ready for an afternoon of typing late tax returns for the accountant by touching up her fingernails with a coat of raspberry-ice polish. Why Donna polished her nails before typing was a mystery to
Marnie, but she didn't complain because Donna's work was flawless and they were fast becoming friends.

“Who are these guys anyway?” Donna said, motioning with her head toward a stack of phone messages in Marnie's mail slot. “Victor, Kent, Adam and some guy named Ryan Barns. They never leave you alone.”

Marnie grinned impishly, and she threw back her head. “They're all my lovers,” she teased, glancing at Donna from the corners of her slitted eyes.

“Sure. The career woman who wants no complications.” Donna's plucked brows raised expectantly. “Tell me another one.”

“I thought you knew that Victor's my father.”

“I'd guessed that much,” Donna admitted.

“And Kent—he works for Dad.” She purposely left out the fact that they had once been engaged. It was over. No reason to bring up the sorry past.

“He sounds desperate.” Her gray eyes appraised Marnie. “And he keeps talking about some boat. Your boat?”

“Believe me, it's a long and boring story,” Marnie said, stuffing her empty chow mein carton into a white sack.

“What about Adam Drake?” Donna asked, blowing on her nails.

Good question. What about Adam? She couldn't spend a waking hour without thinking about him. “Adam used to work for my father. Maybe you read about him. It was in all the papers a year ago.”

“A year ago I was in Santa Barbara.”

“Another long and boring story,” Marnie assured her as she tossed the sack into the trash. “Let's just say he and my dad are mortal enemies.”

“Sounds interesting. Besides, I don't think anything about
that
man could be boring. He stopped by yesterday.”

“He did?” Marnie was flabbergasted.

Donna read the expression on her face and frowned. “You know, I should've told you, but you were gone at the time and he said it wasn't important, that he'd come back in a few days and then I got busy with tax reports for Miles and—”

“It's all right,” Marnie assured her, though she wasn't up to another meeting with Adam. Not yet. She needed more time for her emotions to settle. If that were possible.

“If he shows up again, what should I tell him?”

“That I'm busy…well, no,” she retracted. She couldn't avoid him forever, and she really didn't want to. Sooner or later she'd have to confront him as well as her own feelings. “Tell him I'd be glad to see him,” Marnie said against her better judgment. There was a part of her that couldn't resist Adam Drake, no matter how many times she told herself that being with him was only inviting disaster.

Two hours later, her father called. “I've reconsidered,” he said, and Marnie, sitting precariously on the corner of her desk, nearly fell over. Victor Montgomery wasn't known for changing his mind once he'd taken a stand.

“And?” she said.

“I spoke to several people on the board who want to give you a chance, and it goes without saying that Kent is in your corner. He tells me I'm a fool to let pride stand in my way.”

“I don't know what to say.” Instantly, Marnie's defenses were up.

“You don't have to say anything. Just show up at the meeting next Monday morning, 9:00 a.m. sharp and lay out your proposal. I want Simms, Byers, Anderson and Finelli to see what you've come up with. Then I'll let you know.”

“Fair enough, Dad,” she said, trying to keep the smile from her voice. Maybe doing business with Montgomery Inns would work out after all. This might just be the first
step to reconciling with her father. She and Victor were the only members of the Montgomery family. And she never doubted that her father loved her; he was just misguided in his attempt to control her life. Finally it looked as if he was about to treat her as an independent woman.

“But I think we should be clear on one point,” Victor said, his voice taking on that old familiar ring of authority.

Here it comes—the bomb.
“What's that?”

“Adam Drake.”

Her heart nearly stopped. “What about him?”

“I never want to hear his name mentioned again.”

“Don't you think you're being a little theatrical?” Marnie asked. “He was your employee once. His name is bound to come up.”

“Not from you.”

“I can't promise that, Dad. But I'll try,” she conceded.

“Fair enough. I miss you, Marnie. We all do.”

“And I miss you, Dad.” She hung up feeling better than she had in weeks. Most of her anger had cooled, and she was ready to deal with him as businesswoman to businessman. She wasn't sure just how she would handle the father/daughter relationship yet, but she was buoyed that Victor had taken the first step toward mending fences.

“One step at a time,” she told herself firmly.

* * *

T
HE AFTERNOON SUN
was pale behind a hazy layer of clouds. The smells of diesel and dead fish floated on the air and in the water. Adam shoved his sunglasses onto his head and lifted his binoculars, focusing on
Elmer's Folly,
a charter fishing boat churning toward the docks of Ilwaco with Gerald Henderson on board.

It had taken him nearly a week to track down Henderson, who had fled Seattle the day after Adam crashed the party at the Puget West. The way Adam figured it, Gerald
had read about Adam being thrown out of the hotel in the
Seattle Observer,
realized there was going to be trouble and decided to disappear for a while.

Unfortunately for Henderson, Adam knew about his sister's beach cabin in Longview and also knew that Henderson enjoyed deep-sea fishing and usually reserved space on the same charter boat which moored in Ilwaco, a small fishing village located on the Washington shore of the mouth of the Columbia River.
Elmer's Folly
chugged into the small marina, located not far from the fish-processing plant, where you could buy anything from clams to salmon or have your trophy gutted, skinned and canned or smoked, depending upon your preference.

Adam spied Henderson on board with eight other men. Good.

Lowering his binoculars, content to wait until all the fishermen disembarked, he leaned against the sun-bleached rail and shoved his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Gerald Henderson took his time about getting off the boat, but finally he appeared on the dock, wearing worn jeans, flannel shirt, jacket and a hat decorated with fishing lures and hooks. He hauled a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box with him.

“Any luck?” Adam asked, once he'd closed the distance between himself and Henderson. He'd waited around most of the afternoon and now he wanted answers.

“Nah, not even a nibble,” Henderson replied before looking up and realizing Adam wasn't just another interested fisherman asking about the salmon run. Henderson's face fell. “What're you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Why? I've already told you everything I know.”

“Have you?” Adam surveyed the smaller man.
Henderson was nervous, glancing over his shoulder and gnawing at his lip.

“I just want to know how deeply Simms was involved in the embezzling mess.”

“Kent?” Henderson shrugged. “We went over this, Drake. I'm not sure who was involved. It could've been you.”

“But it wasn't.”

“Probably not,” Henderson admitted, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Kate and I found the discrepancies on the books and brought them to Kent's attention. He took it from there. But he seemed as surprised as I was that there was something wrong.” He tried to shake out a single cigarette, but three or four dropped onto the dock. Swearing, Henderson bent over and picked them up.

“Maybe Kent was just surprised that you figured it out,” Adam offered.