The Heart of Christmas (17 page)

“Home,” she said. But it was a lie and she was sure they knew it. She was heading to Jackson. It was a long shot that Brent would be there after a whole week, but if he was, she had to know if his sister was okay—or if she’d chased him away by calling his brother.

19

T
hunder rumbled across the sky, loud enough to shake the walls. Rex had been home for a week, but his house didn’t feel like the same place he’d left. Maybe that was because his approach to furniture and decor suddenly seemed less calculated in its practicality and more devoid of the things that brought comfort and reassurance, especially when he compared it to the coziness of Eve’s bungalow, her B and B, even the rest of Whiskey Creek. It was also nerve-racking to have to watch his back much more carefully now that he was back where The Crew might expect to find him. It felt like the old days.

“When will this end?” he muttered to himself as he stood to one side of the window and peered out through a crack in the blinds at the storm lashing his small backyard. If The Crew had somehow managed to learn his address, this would be the perfect night to strike. Provided they came in sufficient numbers, they could swarm his house, break in from more than one point of entry—and his neighbors wouldn’t even hear any shots that were fired.

He wondered how long it would take for Marilyn or someone else to find his body. A day? Two? He hated the idea of her coming upon such a gruesome scene. She wouldn’t know how to get hold of his family, he realized, and pulled his phone out of his pocket so he could leave her a message.

“Marilyn, it’s me,” he said when he got her voice mail. “I’m calling to tell you that if anything happens to me, you need to contact my brothers. I’ve never mentioned them, but I have two. You’ll find my will in the safe at the office. Everything’s to be split between them.” He’d had that drawn up when he first returned to California. There were things he’d change now if he could. He’d want to give Eve more than the five thousand dollars he’d left with her, if she was pregnant. And he’d want to provide something for his employees. But he hadn’t known her or them when he’d made plans for his estate, and if something happened tonight it was too late for that.

Once he’d left Marilyn his brothers’ phone numbers, he considered giving her Virgil’s, too. He’d want Virgil to know as soon as possible that he’d been killed. But he didn’t dare leave any clues, even verbal ones, that could be traced to New York. Once he was dead, The Crew wouldn’t bother hurting his family. There’d be no point. But they’d continue to search for Virgil. The few emails he and Virgil had exchanged about Mona’s execution were all they could safely afford at the moment.

He took a minute to write a letter to Dennis, telling him to give a woman named Eve Harmon from Whiskey Creek any money she needed. He could only hope Dennis would honor that wish. Planning to mail it in the morning, he slipped it in his pocket. Then he went from his study to the living room to check the front of the house and yard.

He could see the Christmas lights on the house across the street—colorful blurs through the rain. Most people were caught up in the holidays, buying gifts, throwing parties, preparing for the end of the year, while he was preparing for the end of his
life.

Shit.
He was tired of staring out the windows and monitoring those cameras on his laptop. If The Crew was coming, he wished they’d arrive and get it over with. He had his gun in his waistband, wouldn’t go down without a fight. It wasn’t as if he
wanted
to die. But this was no way to live.

When his cell buzzed, and he had to get it back out of his pocket, he wondered if one of his clients was in the middle of an emergency. But it wasn’t any of the bodyguards. It was Marilyn. She must’ve received his message much sooner than he’d intended. He’d thought she’d be asleep. The day he’d returned, he’d reprogrammed the phone system at the office to alert him and not her to all after-hour calls. She was officially off duty at four if she came in early, as she usually did.

“’Lo?” He thought he saw movement in the yard and almost drew his weapon. But when he looked closer, he realized it was the bough of a tree, being tossed in the wind.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, still keeping a close eye on the moving shadows caused by the swaying trees.

“Then why’d you give me your next of kin?”

“Just...in case.”

“In case of what?”

“I told you. In case something happens.”

“That scares me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have anyone else to leave that information with.”

She cleared her throat. “It also makes me wonder if I should tell you that...we got sort of a strange message today.”

The tension tightening his shoulders increased. Was this “strange message” the beginning of the end? He’d been waiting for something unusual, something that would tip him off that The Crew was closing in. “Why didn’t you give it to me? You left before I did, and I’ve been monitoring the phones ever since.”

“It came in around three, when I was on another line and you were at the bank, but I thought it was just a wrong number.”

“Who was it for?”

“Someone named Brent.”

Eve’s face conjured up in Rex’s mind, making him hope, as much as he also had to hope against it, that she was trying to contact him. “Was it a woman?”

“No.”

“What made you think of it now?”

“When you called me a few minutes ago, I was reminded of it. For some reason it gave me a funny feeling. I began to wonder if maybe you’ve been using that name for whatever reason.”

Irritated that she’d assume he didn’t need to know about that message, for
whatever
reason, he stepped away from the window and focused on the conversation. “Marilyn, you can’t keep
anything
from me. I don’t care who it’s for or who it’s from.”

“Why? That’s what I don’t get?”

“Because it could wind up getting me killed. Do you understand?”

There was a long silence. “See? Thanks to comments like that, I can’t sleep at night.”

He didn’t mean to spook her, but he had to impress upon her the importance of telling him everything. Who could say what small thing would warn him of the presence of his old gang? “We work in protection. That pits us against some dangerous people, and some of those people like to go after revenge.”

“Is that what’s happening? Because you’ve never left town for two and a half weeks before and had me secretly meet you to sign checks. You haven’t even taken a vacation. And you’ve never used a different name.”

Little did she know that the name she called him wasn’t his real name—not his surname, anyway. He’d been through several incarnations of his identity. The first—when he, Virgil, Peyton, Laurel and her two kids went into WitSec and moved to Washington, D.C.—had been Perry Smith. He’d hated that name. It had never quite fit, had always left him feeling as if something important had been stolen from him. But he’d been through five others since and didn’t like those any better—which was why, when he returned to California, he’d gone back to Rex. He’d believed there were so many people in this crowded state that one Rex wouldn’t stand out. He’d missed being who he really was. And, at that stage, he hadn’t heard anything from The Crew or Mona since a guy called Ice had found Laurel in Montana over a year earlier.

“Someone’s out to get me, Marilyn.”

“Who?”

“Someone I’ve come up against in the past. That’s all you need to know. So what was this mysterious message?”

He could tell she didn’t like being kept in the dark. She seemed to think his refusal to give her the details of the danger he faced meant he didn’t trust her. That was true, to a point. But only because he couldn’t expect her not to give The Crew his home address if she had a gun to her head. And how much more quickly would she talk if it was her husband in danger?

She was a loyal employee, but The Crew did everything possible to exploiting one’s vulnerabilities. Asking her to die in his place was out of the question. “Well?” he prompted.

“It was from someone named Dylan.”

The only Dylan who knew him by Brent was the one he’d recently met with Eve. “Any last name?” he asked, just to confirm what he suspected.

“No. All he said was ‘Brent, you bastard. You didn’t have to effing prove me right.’”

That message had definitely come from Cheyenne’s husband. With the help of Eve’s friend Ted, Dylan had figured out where Rex really worked. But what Marilyn had said didn’t quite fit the image Rex had of a tough guy like Dylan. “Did he really say
effing?
”

She lowered her voice. “I didn’t want to repeat it
verbatim
. My mother-in-law’s sleeping in the next room and
bastard
was bad enough.”

He would’ve laughed. Marilyn didn’t shy away from harsh language at work. But he supposed he wouldn’t drop an F-bomb within hearing of his mother-in-law, either, if he had one. He’d never used bad language in the presence of his own mother, not even in his worst days. All his anger had been turned inward. “He didn’t leave a number?”

“No. I didn’t get the impression he was expecting a call back. But the number he was calling from showed up on the screen, so I jotted it down.”

Rex knew he should let this go. He’d be a fool to respond. If he called Dylan back, Dylan and Ted would both know that he was, after all, associated with All About Security. But they weren’t buying the story he’d concocted for them about being a landscaper in Bakersfield—and the recklessness he’d been feeling lately reasserted itself. So did his desire to rebel against the strictures under which he had to live his life.
Bring it on,
he thought as he imagined, for the millionth time, his final confrontation with his old gang.

“Give me the number,” he told Marilyn, and walked back into the office to get a pen and paper.

Two minutes later, he blocked his number and called Dylan.

Cheyenne answered. “Hello?”

“Is your husband there?” Rex asked.

“Who’s this?”

He hesitated. He preferred not to identify himself to her, but he doubted she’d get Dylan if he didn’t. “Brent.”

“Oh, um, Brent. Right. Okay, just a sec.”

She sounded flustered, but she didn’t ask why he’d left so suddenly when he was supposed to have stayed through Christmas. Neither did she mention the fact that his sister had never shown up—or that he’d driven off without even telling Eve goodbye. She hurried to get her husband; he could hear her calling Dylan’s name in the background.

Dylan’s voice came through a few seconds later. “Brent?”

“You think I should’ve stayed?” Rex asked without preamble. “Is that what you think?”

There was a long silence. Then, instead of railing at him as Rex had expected, Dylan spoke quietly, calmly. “No, I think you would’ve liked to stay, or you wouldn’t have made this call.”

“Maybe so.” Why deny it? Who wouldn’t want to remain in a place that seemed so safe and homey and protected from all the bad things that threatened him? Whiskey Creek was a place out of time and going there had
almost
felt like a second chance.

“So why’d you leave?” Dylan asked.

“Because it was impossible for me to do anything else, okay? I did Eve a favor by walking away. I did you
all
a favor.” He was about to end the call. He’d just had to let Dylan know that he hadn’t used Eve, that he wasn’t
that
kind of bastard. Or perhaps he’d wanted an outlet for his frustration and anger, a fight that didn’t have life-and-death stakes. If so, that desire had been quashed by Dylan’s insightful response.

Dylan spoke before he could. “What kind of trouble are you in, Brent? Is this about your sister?”

Rex raked a hand through his hair, which was already mussed from the many times he’d done that tonight. “No. I don’t have a sister. Scarlet was a client. I was going to bring her to Whiskey Creek so I could look after her, but that situation resolved itself.”

There was another long silence. Then he said, “What else did you lie about?”

“Practically everything,” he admitted. “But what’s happening in my life...it has nothing to do with the police, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Then it has to do with people who are not the police, and that means they can help you.”

“They’ve tried. There’s nothing they can do. I’m better off on my own.”

“What, then? You testified against someone? Or—”

“Something like that,” he broke in.

Rex was pretty sure Dylan was surprised they were even having this conversation. Rex was surprised, too. They barely knew each other—and he hadn’t reached out to anyone before, for understanding or anything else. Why Eve and her friends would be different, he couldn’t say, but their good opinion mattered to him. He still wanted to see Eve, to explore what he felt when he was with her.

“Whatever you’re dealing with, you have to stop running sometime,” Dylan said.

Rex chuckled without mirth. If he hadn’t arrived at that decision himself, he would never have left Whiskey Creek. “Exactly. But, trust me, you don’t want me to stop running in
your
town,” he said, and disconnected. He couldn’t have kept talking, even if he’d wanted to. He hadn’t seen anyone pull into his drive. But a lone figure approached his door.

His breath caught in his throat as whoever it was knocked, and he reached for his gun. Maybe this would be the end of it.

20

B
rent had checked out of the B and B in Jackson the same day he checked in. That was information the manager at the Bluebell probably shouldn’t have given Eve, what with the privacy laws these days, but the woman recognized her as having been with him before and didn’t even bring up any legal issues. Eve was grateful the information had come so easily. Knowing she hadn’t just missed him soothed her anger at Ted for waiting so long to tell her.

But she had so little to go on, she’d never be able to find Brent. From what she’d learned, he’d checked in at the Bluebell very late, slept for a few hours and taken off to...only God knew where. Why hadn’t he just stayed at Mrs. Higgins’s place those final few hours? Maybe he thought Mrs. Higgins would try to talk him out of leaving if she saw him with his luggage. That was Eve’s guess, although it was also possible that he’d set off, realized he was too tired to drive all the way to his destination and decided to sleep at the only place familiar to him that wasn’t in Whiskey Creek.

But if his “sister” had been harmed, if that was the reason he’d left in the middle of the night, stopping so soon was odd. Why wouldn’t he have some coffee or take a couple of NoDoz capsules to help him stay awake so he could go right to her?

Eve sighed. Who could say? He’d made no secret of the fact that his relationship with his family was strained. Perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable rushing to Scarlet’s aid because other family members had gotten there first but was too upset to remain where he was.

There was just one problem with the whole sister-in-jeopardy theory. Eve was now convinced that Dennis was Brent’s brother, that Brent’s real name was Rex and that Scarlet wasn’t his sister. Dennis had acted as if he didn’t even know a Scarlet.

God forbid she was Brent’s—er, Rex’s—girlfriend.

“You said you weren’t a cheater,” she muttered aloud as she drove into Whiskey Creek. But could she believe that?

It started snowing as she reached the outskirts of town. Winter had been late this year. There’d been plenty of rain but this was the first snow. Normally, she would’ve been excited at the prospect of a white Christmas. There was nothing more charming than her quaint little town resting beneath a blanket of snow. But she didn’t feel any Christmas spirit this year.

At the moment, she was just eager to find her bed—so she wasn’t happy when she turned into her drive and saw Dylan’s Jeep. His backup lights were on, as if he’d come to visit, found her gone and was leaving.

Was Cheyenne with him?

It was too dark to tell.

The second he spotted her, he parked again, even though he was blocking the carport. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered Eve. But she didn’t want to talk about Brent. Not to Ted and Sophia. Not to Cheyenne and Dylan. Not to anyone. She felt sick at heart, whether she had any right to or not, and needed time to cope with her disappointment. There was still the fear of what that pregnancy test in her house would reveal, of course. Her emotions were in such upheaval, she wasn’t sure how she’d feel about having a baby. She only knew that she hadn’t been ready to give Brent up when he left, and she hadn’t thought she’d have to, not for three more weeks.

The driver and passenger doors opened at the same time, which answered her question as to whether Cheyenne was with Dylan.

Maybe Ted had called to tell them she’d left the restaurant upset, and they were here to see that she was okay.

“What are you two doing out so late?” she called to them. She’d parked to one side so Dylan could get around her when they went home.

Dylan’s keys jingled in his hand as they walked over to her. “We’ve been trying to call you.”

She reached back into the car to get her purse, so she could check her phone. It was dead. “Oh, I guess I’m out of battery.” She’d been so consumed with her mission to find Brent/Rex that she hadn’t even noticed.

“The lights were on in the house, so we thought you might be home—that maybe you lent your car to someone else.” Cheyenne knew Pam, at the B and B, had a car even older than Eve’s. Whenever she had engine trouble, she borrowed the Mercedes if Eve didn’t need it.

“No, not tonight.” She’d left the lights on when she went to Just Like Mom’s because she hadn’t planned to be gone very long and, as a single woman, found it more reassuring to return to a house that wasn’t completely dark. “But you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Brent called Dylan,” Cheyenne announced.

Eve’s heart skipped a beat. “He did? Why? And...how did he get your number?”

There was a slight pause. Cheyenne was waiting for her husband to field this question.

Dylan gave Eve a look that suggested he wasn’t all that happy with the answer. “I called his business this afternoon and left him a message.”

“You
what?
” Eve said.

“I knew he was lying about owning a landscaping company, and I wanted him to know it,” he explained. “I was also pissed that he’d come crashing into your life only to walk away as if it was nothing. You deserve better.”

Since she felt angry with Brent—Rex—for the same reason, she appreciated Dylan’s desire to stand up for her. But that reaction came in a distant second to the curiosity his news had aroused. “So you called All About Security.”

“Yeah.”

“And he called you back...”

“Which was as good as admitting that we were right,” Cheyenne said, pointing out the obvious.

They were getting wet, so Eve motioned them to the front door. “He must’ve realized that.”

Dylan nodded as they hurried inside. “He did.”

She led the way to the kitchen. “He said so?”

“He said he left because he had no choice. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I thought it might help with...the suddenness of his departure.”

“He left because of his sister and the problems she’s been having with her ex?” she said. “Is that what he told you?”

“No. He doesn’t have a sister,” Dylan replied. “Scarlet was just a client he’d been hired to protect but, according to him, her situation has since ‘resolved itself.’”

Eve breathed a sigh of relief at finally learning who Scarlet was. So she wasn’t Rex’s sister
or
his girlfriend. Now the fact that Dennis hadn’t recognized her name made sense. She wished that didn’t please her as much as it did, but...

“Whatever trouble he’s in now is
his
trouble, not Scarlet’s,” Dylan added. “But he claims that trouble doesn’t involve the police.”

“He’s told me the same thing.” Setting her purse aside, Eve removed her coat. “Do you believe him?”

“I do,” Dylan said.

“Why?” she challenged. “When he’s told so many lies?”

“If you’ll remember, he didn’t volunteer those lies. He didn’t really want to say anything. We forced those answers out of him. And he didn’t need to call me back if he was just going to offer up more of the same. He seemed sort of...resigned, if you want the truth.”

Eve wished
she
had talked to him. “Did he say anything about me?”

“Not directly. But that whole call was about you.”

“Yet I wasn’t mentioned,” she said as she sat down on a kitchen chair.

“He wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t care about you.” Dylan helped Cheyenne with her coat and put it on top of his. “That’s why we’re here. I don’t think he wanted to leave Whiskey Creek, and I felt you should know that.”

What Dylan had said soothed her wounded pride—but it also made her want Rex back. “Is he safe?”

Dylan frowned. “I got the impression
he
doesn’t think so.”

Suddenly as cold as if she was still standing outside, Eve clasped her hands in her lap. “He would know, wouldn’t he?”

“I’m guessing he would.” Dylan’s response was grudging. Eve could tell he didn’t really want to think about that aspect.

“Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

He sat across from her and stretched out his legs. “Stay out of the line of fire, I guess. He doesn’t want to bring whatever danger he’s in to Whiskey Creek. And I can’t say I’d like to see that myself.”

But if he wasn’t safe, who was going to help him? “You’re saying we just let it go, let him handle whatever it is on his own?”

Dylan shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any other way.”

As she sat there, looking at Cheyenne’s swollen belly, she could understand why Dylan might choose to play it safe. Eve knew she could be carrying a child herself. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt—but that included Rex.

* * *

Rex had nearly shot his neighbor. Never had he imagined that Leigh Dresden, half of the couple who lived next door, would show up on his doorstep at one in the morning, in the worst storm to hit San Francisco so far this winter. It wouldn’t have been such a close call if she hadn’t covered the peephole with her finger as a friendly joke. But he could see why she wouldn’t expect something like that to put her in danger. And he was pretty sure Leigh didn’t know what the hell she was doing. From her giddy laughter, and the way she swayed on her feet, she’d had too much to drink. Maybe that was why she’d braved the wind and the rain to show up with a platter of decorated sugar cookies. She’d covered them with plastic wrap, which revealed some presence of mind, but she wasn’t even wearing a coat. And this kind of behavior wasn’t like her. She had two kids, two little boys, and had always seemed so circumspect and devoted.

“Made you these,” she said, slurring her words enough to add further proof to his “she’s drunk” observation.

He could feel the weight of his gun in his right hand. He’d turned on the porch light, but he hadn’t turned on the light in the entry, so he was standing in shadow. From what he could tell, she hadn’t yet noticed that he was holding a pistol. She was too busy looking at his face—and smiling.

“That’s nice of you.” He hid the gun behind his back. “What made you do that in the middle of the night?”

She stood on her tiptoes and glanced over his shoulder into his house, apparently curious as to what she’d find there. “I thought you might like them. You seem so isolated and remote over here, you know? I never see you bring anyone home. You never entertain friends or...or anything.”

“You’ve been watching me that closely?”

Her laugh sounded slightly nervous, as if that question had brought a moment of clarity. “Things have changed since Marcus and I split.”

The breakup was news to him. “You and your husband are no longer together?”

She gave him a funny look. “No. We haven’t been for six months. He decided he preferred the eighteen-year-old bimbo he met at the gym.”

Rex rubbed his free hand over his chin. “I’m sorry about that. I guess I’m a little behind on neighborhood gossip.”

“I guess so,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone had missed hearing
that
story.” She laughed again but then sadness wiped the smile from her face. He was bringing her to the house. It was Ben, across the street, who told me what was going on.”

“Ouch.”

She looked sullen, but then managed another smile. “Anyway, I saw that all your lights were on, and I know you’re usually up late, and...” She gestured sloppily. “I couldn’t sleep, so...I thought I’d walk over to see if you’d like a cookie.” She seemed to focus on his mouth. “Or...maybe you’d like to come over for a drink and then have a cookie. We’ve lived thirty feet apart for two years and yet we barely know each other.”

And she thought
now
was the time to get acquainted?

“Where are your kids?”

“They’re home, asleep.” She lowered her voice and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “They won’t bother us.”

She obviously wanted more than conversation. Rex wasn’t interested. But he couldn’t send her away and have her fall and get hurt or run into a member of The Crew on her way home. So he shoved his gun back into his waistband and pulled his shirt down, shielding that action with his body. “I’m afraid I was just getting ready for bed, so we’ll have to have a drink another time,” he said as he took the cookies and set them aside. “But, here, let me walk you home.”

She slid her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder almost as soon as he stepped outside. He hadn’t grabbed a coat. Although it was freezing, he’d been too nervous about a woman standing on his front stoop when he was expecting to be attacked. He just wanted to get her home safely, but she was so drunk she could hardly walk. Her lack of coordination and the wind fighting them at every step made progress slower than he’d planned.

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” she asked wistfully, blinking as she turned her face up to his.

He thought of Eve. The only time he hadn’t been lonely was recently, when he was with her. “Yes,” he said.

Her smile broadened and her gaze returned to his lips. “Then why aren’t you more sociable?”

“I’m busy.”

“A man’s got to have
some
downtime. You have to eat and sleep and do...
other
things occasionally.”

They’d finally reached her doorstep. She didn’t seem troubled by the weather, but he didn’t enjoy getting soaked. “Here you are. You’d better go inside before you catch a cold.”

“Come in with me,” she said with a pout, and opened the door to tug him through it.

“Leigh, I’m sorry.” He let her pull him inside but stood in the entry. “I’ve got to get back.”

She closed the door behind him and lifted his hand to her breast. “Why? You won’t find anything over there like you’ll find here.”

“I’m sorry, Leigh,” he said again, removing his hand. “But I’m in a relationship with someone else.” He almost couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. He and Eve weren’t in a “relationship.” He couldn’t offer her anything. And yet...she might be pregnant with his child.

His neighbor linked her arms around his neck. “You never bring anyone home,” she responded, jutting out her bottom lip. “I know. I’ve been watching you since my husband left.”

“She lives somewhere else.”

“In another state?”

“There’s no need for you to worry about that.” He gently extricated himself. It was clear she was going through a difficult time. Christmas probably brought back a lot of memories of when she was with her husband, and yet she had to put on a happy face for her kids. He could see why she might get drunk and seek comfort and pleasure where she could find it.