Wrong Place, Wrong Time (32 page)

“Thank you. I’d love some water.” Devon entered the living room, trying to ignore the twin icy stares being leveled at her by James and Louise.

“You don’t drink?” Edward inquired.

“I do, sometimes.”

“And tonight’s not one of those times?”

“No,” Blake interceded. “It isn’t. And it shouldn’t be for you, either. Jack Daniel’s wasn’t on the list your cardiologist gave you.”

Edward snorted. “If I followed that list, I’d die of boredom. I’d rather take my chances with life.”

“Suit yourself.” Blake met his grandfather’s gaze head-on. “I need to speak with you.”

“About my drinking habits? No thanks. I don’t need a lecture.”

“It has nothing to do with that. But it’s important.”

Edward’s brows shot up. “I’m listening.”

“Not here. In private. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“All right.” Edward rose and set down his glass. “Let’s go to my office.”

Blake nodded, and the two men left the room.

Silence hung behind them.

“Great,” James muttered, reaching for his gin and tonic. “More drama. Just what we need.”

His grandmother gave him a reproving look that screamed don’t-air-our-dirty-laundry-in-front-of-strangers. He got the message loud and clear, and bit back whatever else he’d been about to say.

Another silence, this one more uncomfortable than the last.

The clock in the hall chimed five.

“I wonder what’s keeping Cassidy,” Anne murmured. “She was due here a half hour ago.”

“She’s probably tied up in a meeting,” Louise surmised. She turned to give Devon a cool, inquisitive look. “You take Mondays off?”

“Not usually, no,” Devon replied, taking the glass of ice water Albert handed her and nodding her thanks. “Today’s an exception. I needed a break.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve had quite a hectic week.” Sarcasm laced Louise’s tone. She didn’t wait for Devon’s reaction, but averted her gaze, glancing from James to Anne. “Excuse me a moment. I’d like to freshen up for dinner.” She breezed out of the room and headed for the powder room.

“I’ll call Cassidy and make sure she’s on her way,” Anne announced. She eased to her feet, her sharp blue eyes flickering over Devon as if she were invisible, then fixing on James, silently ordering him to control himself. “I asked Frances to have dinner on the table at six so we can make it an early night.”

“Thanks, Grandmother,” James responded. “I appreciate it. I’m beat.”

“I realize that.” Anne laid a hand on his shoulder as she passed by. “You’ll rest tomorrow. The plane will take you back to the competition tomorrow night.” She paused, glancing back at Devon almost against her will. “You and Blake will stay for dinner.” It wasn’t a request. “I assume you like chicken.” Without waiting for an answer, she went down the hall.

“So, it looks like it’s just you and me,” James observed. He indicated the now empty sofa across from him. “Have a seat. My headache’s too bad to get into anything heavy. Besides, there’s already enough tension in this room to blow the roof off.”

Skeptically, Devon perched on the edge of the sofa.

A corner of James’s mouth lifted. “You look like a frightened bird about to take flight. Like I said, the fireworks are over. Last night was the emotional scene. Today’s the dawn of a new day. New beginnings and all that.” He sipped his drink. “Did you intend to stay for dinner, or did my grandmother just put a crimp in your plans?”

Devon kept her expression nondescript. “No crimp. Blake and I didn’t have any ironclad plans. Besides, I’d enjoy seeing Cassidy again.”

“Cassidy. Right.” James gestured for Albert to fix him another drink. “Any idea why Blake was so hell-bent on talking to my grandfather?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Did you?”

“No.” Devon shook her head. “I make it a point not to interfere. Whatever Blake has on his mind is between him and your grandfather.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“Not magnanimous. Respectful. I understand Blake’s commitment to his family. I have the same commitment to mine. We all do what we have to, to protect the people we love.”

“I’ll drink to that.” James held up his glass, regarding Devon with a pensive expression. “This dinner should be fascinating. I can hardly wait.”

DOWN THE HALL, Edward shut his office door and turned to face Blake.

“Okay, what is it?”

Blake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Devon and I were at the stables. We planned on going riding. I showed her around first. She noticed Sunrise looked sick. When she checked her out, she found that Sunrise’s right front leg was swollen. Apparently, she’d been given injections. We think Vista administered them.”

Edward had sunk down into a chair. “What makes you think that?”

“We spoke to him.”

“When?”

“We just came from his trailer.”

“At the Best Western?”

“No. At our stables. I called and asked him to come by. I implied that you wanted to see him. So he came running. We confronted him about Sunrise. He didn’t admit anything. But he reacted like he was guilty.”

“Great.” Edward rubbed the back of his neck. He was clearly upset. But he wasn’t surprised.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is going on, Grandfather? Is Vista being paid to experiment on our horses?”

No reply.

“Shit.” Blake’s jaw began working. “You do know about it. I kept hoping otherwise, that he was orchestrating this without your knowledge. But, as usual, you’re protecting him. Even about something as vile and unethical as this.”

A watchful stare. “What are you talking about? Protecting who?”

“James.”

“I’m not protecting James. Not in the way you mean.”

“Go on.”

Edward slammed his fist on the desk. “Fine. You want the truth? This research isn’t James’s doing. It’s mine.”

“Yours,” Blake repeated flatly. “You’re paying Vista to experiment on Sunrise?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Edward stared Blake down. “Devon Montgomery was with you when you spoke to Vista?”

“Of course. She was the one who discovered Sunrise’s illness. She was furious. She’s a veterinarian; her job is to keep animals safe and healthy. How do you think she reacted to Sunrise being used as a guinea pig?”

“I don’t give a damn how she reacts. I don’t want her sticking her nose in this.”

Blake’s gaze hardened even more. “You’d better explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. I pay Vista. He’s a genetic consultant. He’s taken a couple of skin samples from our horses to send out for analysis.”

“Biopsies.”

“Yeah, biopsies.”

“Why? What kind of analyses are being done?”

“Evaluative ones. Genetic testing. Vista is assessing for strength, endurance — all the qualities that make an Olympic champion.”

Blake frowned. “How does a tissue sample tell him that?”

“How the hell should I know?” Edward waved his arm in the air. “I’m not a scientist. That’s why I pay him. All I know is he’s working to find the best genetic combination — my mares and to-be-determined stallions. My goal is for him to perform inseminations that result in entries like Stolen Thunder. To secure James’s future, and Kerri’s.”

Some truth. Some glaring omissions.

Blake still wasn’t buying.

“If that’s the case, then why the secrecy?” he demanded.

“There
is
no secrecy. There’s just protecting my interests, and staying ahead of the competition. Vista’s doing cutting-edge research. I don’t want that information leaking out so some richer bastard can buy him out from under me and beat me to the punch. And the last thing I need is some altruistic veterinarian interfering because Vista’s methods offend her principles.”

“It’s not about principles,” Blake responded carefully, studying his grandfather’s expression. “It’s about medical ethics. And potential illegalities. The drugs in Vista’s cabinets are — let’s say, unusual.”

“How would you know?”

“I wouldn’t. Devon would. She didn’t recognize the labels.”

Twin splotches of red stained Edward’s cheeks. “She went through Vista’s cabinets?”

“Briefly. He stopped her.”

“Big surprise. He’s got to be ripping mad. I’m sure he’ll be calling soon to read me the riot act. I’m lucky if he doesn’t quit.” Edward dragged a palm over his face and glared at his grandson. “Don’t screw this up for me, Blake. Not now.”

Blake bit back his reply. Time to stop. He’d exposed enough of his hand. His grandfather wasn’t going to fill the gaping holes or explain the flagrant inconsistencies. That would have to come from elsewhere.

“Fine,” he said tightly. “I won’t interfere.”

“And your girlfriend?”

“What about her?”

Edward rose slowly. “Keep her out of this, Blake. I mean it. Get her to back off. Or I will.”

That brought Blake’s head up. “Are you threatening Devon?”

“I’m securing my family’s future.” Edward’s eyes were blazing. “You know that nothing stands in the way of that. Not for me. Vista’s research is going to make Pierson one of the most prominent names in equestrian competition. That, along with Pierson & Company, is my legacy — one I mean to provide. I won’t tolerate outside interference. So divert Devon Montgomery’s attention elsewhere.” A piercing stare. “That should be easy enough. You’re sleeping with her. Take her to bed, and keep her there. Now let’s go. Your grandmother’s waiting.”

He yanked open the door and stalked out of the office.

IF COCKTAILS HAD been a frosty affair, dinner was positively glacial.

Devon choked down each morsel, grateful that Cassidy was there to offset the deafening silence. Other than the snippets of conversation the two of them shared, the dinner consisted of clinking china and blatant noncommunication. Edward’s contribution to the meal was an occasional instruction barked at the kitchen staff. Anne sliced her food deliberately, chewing small mouthfuls and darting censuring looks at Devon. James drank more than he ate, toying with his food while lost in moody introspection. Louise slanted assessing glances from Devon to Blake and back again. As for Blake, he was seething. He’d been that way since he’d walked out of his grandfather’s office. Devon was dying to hear what he’d found out. But that had to wait till they were alone.

She was beyond relieved when they finally said their good nights and drove to her mother’s house.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, turning to him in the car.

“Not what I expected.” Succinctly, Blake laid out what his grandfather had told him.

Devon frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. I’m just not sure how much culpability lies directly with my grandfather, and how much lies in some cover-up for James. I keep remembering how extreme Vista’s reaction was when I brought James up.”

“He sounded too personally invested in James’s career, that’s for sure. As for what your grandfather said, it doesn’t explain why Vista’s trailer is so weighted down. Or why he’s so paranoid. Plus, I don’t buy the whole biopsies for genetic assessment. They’re mating horses, not cloning them.” Mentally, Devon consolidated everything Blake had said with what they’d learned from their showdown with Vista. “We’ve got a slew of question marks. I’d be willing to bet our answers lie behind that curtain in Vista’s trailer.”

“Maybe.” Blake pulled into the driveway leading to Sally’s house. “But you’re not going to be the one finding out. My grandfather made it crystal clear that any further involvement on your part wouldn’t be in your best interests.”

Devon heard the hard note in Blake’s tone. Her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his profile. Even in the dimly lit car, she could see the muscle working in his jaw. “Did he threaten me?” she asked quietly.

“Not in so many words.” Blake eased the Jag to a stop. He cut the motor and turned to face Devon. “When it comes to protecting his family, particularly James, my grandfather knows no bounds. So it’s time for you to assume a low profile. I’ll take it from here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe contact the horse farm in Uruguay. Maybe go see Vista alone, and try to smooth things over. I’m a Pierson. Ultimately, my family loyalty won’t be questioned. Whoever I contact will be more apt to give me information.”

Devon gave a hard shake of her head. “That tactic’s too passive. We need to do something drastic, before Vista gets rid of the evidence.”

“We can’t beat it out of him.”

“I know.” Devon dragged a frustrated hand through her hair. “But we’re at a dead end. I’m not getting another word out of James. Any leverage I had with him is gone. I’ve exhausted all my avenues. At the same time, I feel like we’re this close.” She held up her gloved hand, her thumb and forefinger extended with just an inch of space separating them.

“So do I. Which is why I’m calling your father in the morning — as per his instructions. We’ll tell him what happened. Let him call the shots.”

“Fair enough.” Devon blew out her breath. “Sorry if I’m short-fused. I just feel like we’re in limbo. And I want this to be over.”

“I know.” Blake’s knuckles brushed her cheek. “You’re wound up. We both are.” Deliberately, he shifted emotional gears. “As luck would have it, that’s one problem I know how to fix.”

“Really.” Devon understood what he was trying to do, and she welcomed the reprieve. “What’s your solution?” she asked, her lips curving slightly.

“Come inside and I’ll show you.”

“You’re on.”

MONTY SNATCHED UP the Bat Phone when it rang. “You’re late.”

“A minute and a half,” Sally clarified. “That’s not late.”

“For you it is. Especially under these circumstances. Listen, Sal, with what’s going on, I prefer your busting my chops to making me sweat.”

A heartbeat of silence.

“Sorry.” Monty realized how sharp he’d sounded. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just in a lousy mood.” He pulled open his kitchen cabinet, banging around until he’d found a clean mug. Then he poured himself some day-old coffee and took a gulp. “I probably need some sleep.”

“Don’t expect to get any,” Sally responded mildly. “Not unless the brew you’re chugging down is decaf.”