Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (24 page)

Christian closed the door behind his brother. “It’s good to see you too, bro. I feel much better, thanks for asking. I’m sure Dr. Bergman must have told you that.”

“Sean told me you asked — no, you demanded — to be released.”

“I don’t need to be there anymore. I passed all his tests for cognitive reasoning. Look, I’m washed, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes. I’ve been to the Densmore — ”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to have another breakdown? The Densmore is what started it the first time. Come with me. I’m taking you back to Crittenden before you crash.” Paul tried to take hold of his arm.

Christian sidestepped his brother. “No, Paul. Nothing’s going to happen to me this time.”

“Kit, listen to me. You didn’t see yourself before you went to Crittenden. It was so much like after our parents died, it hurt to look at you. You’re not like other people. Your highs are higher and your lows are much lower. It’s what makes you a brilliant architect. But the lows, Kit, the lows can kill you.”

That comment made Christian angry. “I’ve never tried to commit suicide.”

“Not actively, no. But lying in bed and not eating or drinking will achieve the same result eventually.”

“I just ate lunch, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Baby brother, you’re all I have left. I’ve been watching over you since Mom and Dad died. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Christian’s heart swelled with love for his brother. When their parents died, Christian had thought because he was seventeen he was adult enough to live alone in their parent’s house.

He’d been so wrong. When the truancy police finally tracked Paul down, Christian’s depression was so deep he hadn’t gotten out of bed in three days. Paul fought the state for custody of him, but in order to win, Paul had to have Christian committed for psychiatric treatment. He’d been hospitalized for months while the doctors helped him deal with his parents’ deaths and his uncontrolled bipolar disorder.

When Christian got out of the hospital, he’d lived with Paul until college, having learned his brother knew better than he did. He’d followed Paul into the construction trade, listening to his brother’s advice about becoming an architect so he could join Paul’s friend’s firm.

He knew Paul loved him, but the advice his brother gave now wasn’t something Christian could follow. Going back to Crittenden was the wrong thing to do. He hated like hell to deny his brother anything, but this was his life, not Paul’s.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Paul. And I’m not going back to Crittenden.” He led the way into the living room.

Paul followed with another argument. “But what about meds? Yours aren’t strong enough.”

Christian settled into a chair. “Don’t worry. Dr. Bergman prescribed new meds before he released me.”

That seemed to take the wind out of Paul’s sails. “Oh. That’s good. You’ve been letting your family doctor treat you for too long. It’s time you let a psychiatrist take over.” Paul ran a hand through his hair. “Kit, the mayor’s pushing for a ruling about the Densmore. There’s a grand jury investigating.”

Christian stilled. “A grand jury?” Jesus, things had escalated while he was away. “But I didn’t do anything.”

Paul sank onto the couch near him. “They’re looking for a scapegoat to blame. I don’t know if they’ll find anything they can use as evidence, but I can’t risk you. If you’re at Crittenden, they can’t touch you.”

Paul wanted him to hide? “Why should I hide if I’m innocent?”

“Sometimes the innocent get ground up in the wheels of justice. I don’t want you in jail. I’d rather you were safe at Crittenden.”

“God, is that what you think my choices are?” Christian sprang out of his chair and paced.

“Yes. Kit, you could be killed in jail, raped, beaten. Terrible things happen to innocent people there.”

Christian turned away from his brother and scrubbed a hand down his face. His brother’s words terrified him. He’d never thought it would come to jail. He’d designed a building, for God’s sake. There had been a senseless, terrible accident. He hadn’t taken a gun and shot those people. Jail. No, it wouldn’t come to that.

Fool, get your head out of the clouds.
Paul had said they wanted a scapegoat. But if Christian could find evidence of what happened, he could point the lynch mob in another direction.

“How long do we have before the grand jury makes a ruling?”

“I don’t know, but if we leave for Crittenden now, it won’t matter if the ruling comes down today. You’ll be safe.”

“I don’t intend to hide at Crittenden. I’ll investigate the Densmore collapse and find out what happened.”

Paul stood and grabbed Christian’s arm. His blue eyes snapped with anger. “Would you listen to yourself? There have been investigators all over the Densmore. They’ve probably already found any evidence there is. There’s no time for you to play Hardy Boy. Get in the car.”

Paul had never been angry with him before. It unsettled Christian, but he held firm and shook off his brother’s hand. “I need to prove I’m innocent, Paul. Even to you.” He held his breath, hoping his brother would deny it.

“What I believe doesn’t matter. Other people won’t believe you. I still love you. I’m always going to love you, no matter what.”

Christian shook his head. “I can’t hide. I want you to know I’m innocent. I’m going to prove it to you.”

“That’s insane, Kit. How are you going to do that?”

“I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning of the project — I’m going to be involved. I swear on our parents’ graves I’ll find out what happened.”

• • •

Gabrielle tossed her clipboard onto her desk at Michigan Casualty. She slid the cardboard tube full of blueprints onto the floor in the corner. What a day, and it wasn’t even half over.

“Find anything new, Gabrielle?” Her boss, Cal Beyers, was a thirty-five-year-old black man on the fast track in management. He’d cut claims payouts by fifteen percent since he started in her department eighteen months ago. She didn’t expect he’d be in her department much longer.

“Christian Ziko was on-site,” she said.

His chocolate brown eyes widened and he came fully into her cubicle. “The bastard. What’d he want?”

“I think he wanted to see the building.”

“He’s probably looked at it every day for the past two weeks.”

Gabrielle shook her head. “No, he says he’s been out of town.” That mystery still bothered her. Where had he gone?

Cal frowned. “Out of town doing what? What could be more important than having one of his buildings collapse?”

She’d wondered the same thing. “Maybe Barrett and Ziko have another building going up somewhere else.”

“Then why didn’t Barrett oversee it? He’s been in town this whole time.”

Gabrielle shrugged. “Maybe they thought it best if Ziko stayed out of sight for awhile.”

“Then it had the reverse effect. So, what else did he say?”

“We actually went up to the third floor.”

“The third floor. What the hell were you thinking? It’s not safe. You could have been killed.”

She knew her boss was right about the danger. “Nothing happened.”

“Still, I thought you were more intelligent than that. Listen, I’m not telling you anything you probably haven’t figured out for yourself, but I’m not going to be in this position much longer. I’ve been watching you lately, evaluating your performance, and I think you might be ready to step into my job when I’m promoted. Your work with the Densmore team has been outstanding.”

A promotion? Gabrielle’s heartbeat quickened. In the twelve years she’d worked here, watching managers cycle through her office on their way up the ladder, they’d never once promoted from within the investigative department. She wanted a chance at Cal’s job.

“But you can’t take chances like you did today,” Cal said. “Initiative is fine, but stupidity won’t get you promoted.”

“I’ll think before I act next time.”

He leaned in close enough that she could smell his musk aftershave. “And if there’s anything Ziko told you that assures Michigan Casualty won’t have to pay a dime, I think both of us will be changing offices. Was there anything?”

“He thought the girders were supposed to have been longer. But that was probably on the initial draft, not the final one.”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “So there’s no proof of what he claimed?”

“No. The girders are the same size specified in the blueprints.”

“Did he say anything else?”

He’d proclaimed his innocence. But Cal didn’t want to hear that — he wanted a fall guy. He was chomping at the bit to get out of her department.

“No.”

“Too bad. So, will I have your team’s report on the Densmore soon?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to assemble all the data, cross all my t’s and dot all my i’s, but you’ll have it in a couple of days.”

“Will I be happy?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get a new desk.”

His bright white teeth were quite a contrast to his dark skin. “That’s great. I knew I could count on you.” He turned and strode off.

Gabrielle wished she felt as content. All her data pointed to a flawed design, but her meeting with Ziko had left her disturbed. Had he been so single-mindedly focused he couldn’t see his design wouldn’t work? Maybe he was so arrogant he couldn’t fathom that something he designed could fail. Or maybe he was as facile a liar as the rest of the men in her life had been. Some had dumped her to her face, but the majority had slunk away and either avoided her calls or told her pretty lies about why they couldn’t make time for her.

Maybe she was the dreamer, thinking any man was accommodating enough to want a woman who’d know by touching him that he’d kissed another woman. Her father had left her mother for that very reason. Gabrielle had only been four at the time and hadn’t known better than to ask her Daddy why he’d been kissing that blond woman while Mommy was at work. The divorce that followed had been bitter, with her Daddy calling her “that freak.” She hadn’t seen him since.

Years later, her grandmother, a Native American wise woman, had admitted it was one of the reasons why she didn’t live with Gabrielle’s grandfather. He hadn’t wanted her to practice her “witchcraft” in his house. So she’d chosen to live without him in her life, surviving in a cabin in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula not far from the Indian reservation where she’d grown up.

She’d warned Gabrielle what a curse others thought it was to have the sight, how hard it made life for a woman. It had certainly made life miserable for the women in her family. And Gabrielle had found out the hard way for herself with a string of broken relationships. No, men couldn’t accept a woman who was different.

At thirty-two, she hadn’t completely resigned herself to spinsterhood, but in a few more years and a few more failed relationships, she’d have to. She’d be very lucky to have a management position to fill up the empty hours of her life where a husband and children would never be. So she’d better make sure there were no other suspects besides Christian Ziko in the Densmore case.

• • •

Christian exited the elevator on the top floor of the Piedmont building in Troy where Barrett and Ziko Architectural had its offices. The company was home and Roger was like family, because he was Paul’s best friend, his frat brother from the University of Michigan. Christian pushed through the glass double doors with the gold stenciling on it. Immediately he was enveloped by the familiar scents of blueprint ink, wood, and French vanilla roast coffee.

The firm’s receptionist/secretary, Brittany Franks, looked up from her typing with a smile on her face that widened to surprise when she saw him. “Christian, you’re back.”

She sprang out of her chair and leaned over the curved reception desk until he feared for the security of the buttons on her tight blouse. Brittany was a very well-endowed young woman.

“Did you enjoy your trip?” There were layers of questions under her question.

He wondered for a moment what trip she was talking about. Then he realized that must have been how Roger explained his absence. “It was relaxing.” Before she could ask further questions, he asked one of his own. “Is Roger here?”

“Yes, in his office.”

“I’ll need to see the Densmore file, if you could put it on my desk.”

A little frown beetled her perfectly arched brows. “Sure.”

When Christian entered Roger’s office, his partner looked up and sighed, tossing his mechanical pencil onto his desk. His thin blondish hair was artfully streaked with lighter shades of blond. The blue of his eyes was almost colorless, it was so light. His shirt was open at the throat, displaying the gold necklace his twenty-four-year-old second wife had given him. The effect was to make him appear a decade younger than forty-four.

“Close the door,” Roger said.

Christian did as he was bid.

“Paul told me you were out of Crittenden. He also said he was taking you back. So what the hell are you doing here?”

Christian bit down on his irritation. This wasn’t the welcome he’d expected. “I feel fine and I’m ready to come back to work. It can’t have been easy for you holding down the fort while I was away.”

“No, it wasn’t. I know you’d like to think you’re ready, Kit, but you’re a liability to me right now. I don’t have time to worry about whether you’ll be here to finish any new projects we start or whether you’ll have a breakdown on a jobsite.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t prove that. You left against medical advice. Do your brother and me a favor and go back to Crittenden until you’re well.”

Christian fisted his hands at his sides. “I am well. And it wasn’t against medical advice. Dr. Bergman agreed I was fit to leave.”

Roger rubbed his temples. “Are you on your meds?”

Christian gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

“Sean said your meds are years out of date.”

It was hard for Christian to orient himself to the fact his psychiatrist, Dr. Sean Bergman, was Roger’s good friend. But that didn’t give Sean the right to break HIPAA rules about Christian’s treatment. Only Paul was privy to that information. Christian would have to handle that problem later.