Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (41 page)

“I have to go, Paul. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Think about what I said, little brother.”

Long after Christian hung up, he thought about Gabrielle and her ability to read his mind. She’d touched him that first day, at the Densmore. What had that touch told her? At that point, she hadn’t slept with him, so her loyalty had been to her job. What had she learned and had she reported it to her employer? Were most of his thoughts and feelings written down somewhere in her file on the Densmore?

He shuddered. He wanted to shout his denial, but they’d only been intimate for twenty-four hours. He knew very little about her, other than that he considered her his soulmate. He couldn’t say how she’d react in any situation. His heart and his mind were at odds, and he felt more lost now than when his parents died. Thank God he had his brother to hold onto.

• • •

The phone’s strident ring dragged Gabrielle from an uneasy sleep where she’d dreamed of Christian in need but had been unable to reach him.

Grabbing the receiver, she hauled it to her mouth. “Hello?”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Christian shouted.

“Huh?”

“Did you do it to hurt me? I told you I needed time. Jesus, you couldn’t even wait twelve hours.”

A glance at the clock showed it was a little after seven
A.M.
“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

Gabrielle pushed herself to a sitting position. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“The
Detroit Free Press
story about me and Crittenden. Why’d you tell them?”

That cleared the fog from Gabrielle’s brain. “I didn’t tell anybody anything.”

“You’re the only one I told, and that was in confidence.”

“I repeat, I didn’t tell anybody anything.”

“It’s here in black and white. Reporters have been calling me for the past half hour demanding to know why I was there.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“No comment. There’s no way I’ll admit to the truth. But that story is pretty damaging. Why’d you do it?”

He wasn’t going to believe her. He thought she’d sold him out. Well, this was a new twist. Usually men lied to her.

Her breath backed up in her throat. Was this Christian’s answer then? Was this his way of pushing her out of his life? It had to be. Their time together meant nothing, when stacked against her gift.

It hurt. It hurt terribly. And she struck back to wound. “I’m no coward. If I’d done it, I would admit it to you. Unlike you, who can’t even tell me the truth that you’re afraid to be with me because I’m psychic. No, you have to make up some lie about me talking to the press in order to dump me. You retreat every time something unusual happens in your safe little world, tucking your head in just like a turtle. Well that’s no way to live — in fact, that’s not living at all.”

She hung up on Christian’s sputtering. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Damn it, she was no virgin to heart wars. She should have been awarded the Purple Heart each time a man had inflicted wounds on her psyche and her soul. She was unwanted. Why couldn’t she accept that? Why did she keep putting her heart on the line? No one could love someone like her. Why was she surprised?

Because I love him.

Fool. Stupid fool.

As she sniffed back a sob that threatened to tear her apart, the phone rang again. Her foolish heart leaped, hoping against hope that Christian was calling to apologize. But the caller ID listed Cal Beyers’s name.

She didn’t want to talk to him, either, but he’d know she was home. He must have seen the story. Shit.

“Hello, Cal.”

“Did you know about Ziko and Crittenden?”

What could she say? What should she say? There was no right answer. “He mentioned it.”

“And you didn’t think it was important? A private rehab facility where the crème of the city go to dry out, and you didn’t think it had any bearing on the case?”

Oh God. She hadn’t known the
Free Press
had put that spin on it. But there was no way she could correct Cal’s perception without spilling Christian’s secret. Despite what Christian thought, she had integrity. It wasn’t her secret to tell.

“He went after the Densmore collapsed.”

“To dry out. His partner probably thought it was the only way to stop him from killing again.”

“He didn’t do it. He’s innocent.”

“He’s a drunk or an addict. Either way, he was that way before the Densmore collapsed. That makes him guilty, and you knew it.”

“I knew nothing of the kind.”

“Your report is finished, Gabrielle. Ziko’s drinking or addiction led to a design that failed. Criminal negligence at the most. Fraud and malfeasance at least. I’m turning in your report like that.”

“You can’t. It’s not true.”

“At eight oh five, it’s done. At eight ten, you can have your resignation on my desk. You’re through here.”

“No.” She needed that job or she and her mother would lose everything.

And all she had to do to prevent it was tell Christian’s secret. Cal might not understand Christian’s problem, he still might report it as the reason for the Densmore debacle. But he also might hesitate.

Need weighed against need. Time elongated. Still, her lips remained closed.

“I’ll expect you in the office later to clean out your desk.” Cal hung up.

Why hadn’t she spoken? What did she owe that bastard Christian after the way he’d treated her over the phone? She’d wanted to hurt him and she’d had the opportunity. But she hadn’t.

She was pathetic. Now she was unemployed. Throwing herself on the bed, she let the sobs overwhelm her, tearing from her throat like blood from a wound.

Gabrielle hadn’t leaked the story. She hadn’t withheld information from her report. Two false accusations had ripped her safe world apart. She was as much a turtle as she’d accused Christian of being. Her history was littered with the hurts men had dealt her. After each hurt, she’d pulled in her head and hid. She was hiding again, not living. Working sixty hours a week and only seeing her mother, not making friends. No, she wasn’t living.

She and Christian were reflections of each other. Maybe that’s why they felt like yin and yang together. They both needed to come out of their shells, but neither would without the other.

Maybe they no longer had a future together, but she could help him come out of his shell by proving she didn’t call the press. Someone else had. Someone who’d dogged their every step since Christian had decided to investigate. That person had tried to stall Christian, impede his progress. Now, when Christian needed to be focused on the upcoming trial, he had to fend off reporters and their accusations. He’d waste his final day of freedom doing something other than investigating.

Someone else knew his secret. True, an aggressive reporter might be able to find the trail to Crittenden, but only if he or she was pointed that way. No, someone who knew the secret had spilled the beans. Christian’s brother knew. So did his partner. Brittany might know; Gabrielle wouldn’t put listening at keyholes past the secretary. Jeremy Barrett might have learned the secret the same way. The vision she’d gotten from touching his hand showed he’d learned something he wasn’t meant to hear.

Christian’s lawyer might know. And Christian’s doctor, Sean Bergman, Paul and Roger’s friend. But the lawyer and the doctor had no motive. The lawyer had recently come into Christian’s life. She wasn’t sure how long Sean had been treating Christian, but she doubted he’d tell the press.

That left four suspects, two of whose names cropped up again and again: Paul and Brittany. Someone Christian trusted was guilty. Someone who knew enough to separate Christian from Gabrielle, leaving Christian without backup. Leaving him vulnerable and alone.

My God, it was brilliant. How had someone known his point of vulnerability? Because someone had been following them for days. But she knew of only one suspect who had power over Christian.

She had to get to Christian.

Christian pulled into the Densmore’s parking lot barely able to see through the deluge of rain, which was good because he didn’t want to see the ruin. In fact, he’d protested meeting Jeremy here, but Jeremy had said the West Park jobsite down the road was too crowded with workers waiting out the rain.

Jeremy’s car was empty. For some reason, he must have gone inside the building. Christian took a deep breath and steeled himself to face his worst nightmare.

He ran the hundred feet to the Densmore’s front door, where the chain dangled loosely from one handle. Inside, the lobby was dim because not all of the overhead lights were on. He smelled a faint odor of coffee, and then he located Jeremy in the center of the atrium.

Christian removed his raincoat, wiping water from his soaking face and hair. “I don’t know why we had to meet inside.”

Jeremy turned to him. “This is where it all began, this monument to your greatness.” There was a bitter tone to his words. He took a sip from the Starbucks cup he held, and gestured to another cup on the girder that lay in the lobby. “Help yourself to some coffee. It’s decaf. I know you don’t drink caffeine.” Again, there was an odd note to his words.

Christian made a mental note to talk to Roger about his son. Jeremy’s breakup with his girlfriend had made the young man angry at the world. Christian laid his raincoat over the girder and sipped the fragrant coffee. It was heady and sweet, nectar of the gods. He sighed with relief. He hadn’t thought to have breakfast or make coffee this morning. Not with Gabrielle’s betrayal and her strange accusations absorbing all his energy. He drank half the cup while he watched Jeremy wander the lobby, studying the destruction with an absorbed horror on his face. Christian knew the feeling.

Finally Jeremy approached him. “You want my handwriting sample.” There was accusation in his tone. “My lawyer says I should give it to you so I won’t be called to testify.”

“We need it to rule out suspects.”

“Suspects. Do you think I’m a suspect because I’m not a partner?”

“Roger gave us a sample.”

Jeremy snorted. “I’d like to have seen that. Dad’s golden boy accusing him of wrongdoing. I bet he’s not so enamored with you now.”

“Your dad’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”

“Yeah and now I know why. I read this morning’s paper. I never would have thought you were a drug addict. Hell, you don’t even drink caffeine.”

As Christian took another swig, he refused to explain that caffeine didn’t mix with his meds. Jeremy seemed too volatile right now. Besides, he’d never felt compelled to confide in his partner’s son. He grabbed the plastic portfolio from the girder and removed a tablet from inside. The sooner he got out of here, the better.

“I brought paper for you to write on.” He held the tablet out toward Jeremy.

Jeremy took it. “Of course you did. You’re always so thorough.” He looked around. “But not always.”

Guilt stabbed through Christian again and he looked away. He didn’t need reminders of how often he’d been a fool in the past months, not with this morning’s disaster fresh in his mind.

“Yeah.” He yawned, wishing for once he was allowed to have caffeine. He’d slept badly without Gabrielle and been woken by the press before he was ready to face the day. Behind him, the scratch of pen on paper meant he would be able to go back to his bed soon. Alone.

Another yawn caught him by surprise. Had he accidentally taken his medicine twice? Taken too many pain pills? He stared at the Starbucks cup and wondered how he was going to make it home before he fell asleep.

“I slipped a mickey in your cup.” Jeremy said from right beside him. He caught the cup as it slipped from Christian’s hand.

“A mickey? Why?” The edges of things were fuzzy, like when he’d been drugged at Crittenden.

“You should have stopped poking your nose in where it didn’t belong. I thought the car accident would keep you out of the way long enough for the trial to begin. But you went right back to snooping the next day. You and that psychic.” The last word was sneered.

Christian’s legs buckled and he collapsed against the girder. “You altered the drawing.” Were his words slurred?

“Yeah. It was supposed to show my dad I was good enough to become a partner. But it didn’t pass the test. It was such an easy fix, it should have passed DesignCorp’s testing just like the first drawing did.”

Anger tried to burn off the drug haze. This spoiled brat had killed innocent people in his stupidity about architecture. “The length mattered.” It was a struggle to make his brain work, and even harder to make his mouth say the words. “Like a seesaw. Weight equalization.”

Jeremy frowned. “Huh?” Then he waved that away. “Then I overheard Dad talking to your brother on the phone. He was going to begin interviewing for another partner, for what was supposed to be my position in the firm. He said you were swamped with work and there was no one in the firm he trusted to handle the extra work. I was there. He should have trusted me. I’m his son.”

Motive, Gabrielle would say. “You forged the test.” Christian’s tongue felt thick.

“Yeah. Me and Brittany. She was pissed at Dad because he wouldn’t get a divorce so he could marry her. She thought offering him sex would get her a wedding ring. Stupid bitch. So when he refused, she wanted to strike back at him. First she tried blackmailing your brother after she screwed him on tape, but his wife found out and filed for divorce. When the Densmore test failed, forging the test results was a way for both of us to hurt him.

“It was easy enough to get the DesignCorp forms. Your friend Jake is such a sucker for big breasts. Brittany screwed him right on his desk. I didn’t think the length mattered. How was I to know? I didn’t think anyone would be hurt except Dad.”

Jeremy came close enough to lean over him. “When this collapsed, I figured you’d drawn a poor design. I was glad you’d screwed up. Then, when you kept poking around, I knew it was the test. I can’t let anyone know about the test.”

He crouched next to Christian and something flashed in his hand as he lowered it. Christian frowned. What was it? As he watched, as though from a distance, Jeremy stroked downwards across Christian’s left wrist.