A Killing Kind of Love: A Dark, Standalone Romantic Suspense (34 page)

There was little or nothing he could do for the woman.

Sebastian was sitting on the floor, his back propped against the wall, his mother’s head on his lap. He was smoothing her tangled, blood-clotted hair off her face, whispering to her, telling her to hold on, that help was on its way. Her hand lay in his, but it was loose, its fingers lax and splayed. Considering the trail of blood she’d left from the second floor, if she made it to the hospital alive, it would be a miracle.

“Hm-m . . .”

Camryn.
His attention snapped to where it belonged. She’d been out for only a few minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. “You’re going to be all right. Just take it easy. The ambulance will be here any minute. Everything will be okay.” He bent to kiss her hair and whisper, “Thank God, you’re going to be okay.” It was the closest he’d come to praying in too many years to remember. But prayer or not, he couldn’t wait for that ambulance to get here. The wound wasn’t deep, but she’d lost a lot of blood.

She seemed ready to lapse into unconsciousness again, but then rallied and said, “Gina. How’s Gina?” She tried to get up, winced.

“Don’t. Stay still. Gina’s fine.” He deliberated on his answer. “She’s in the kitchen, tied to a chair.”

“Oh, Dan …”

She didn’t have to finish for him to hear a “poor, poor Gina” in there. He didn’t feel the same, and didn’t add that Gina had slipped from a screaming, babbling crazy woman to a catatonic a few seconds after he’d subdued her. “I made her as comfortable as I could. She has a couple of bruises from when her mother brought her down, but other than that, she’s okay.”

“Then it was Delores.” She swallowed, and it seemed to hurt her. “I couldn’t tell. She was so . . .”

“I know.” Dan had seen some tough women in his time, but watching that unholy bloodied apparition crawl across the floor and grasp Gina’s ankle with enough force to topple her, he knew he’d seen the toughest of them all.

Camryn slid her hand into his, and he squeezed it; it was like ice. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She’s got at least three bullets in her. She mumbled something about being strangled or taped in her chair. Maybe both. She said she’d got free, tried to call Adam. With the music, I think. But Gina came instead.” He stroked her hair. “Those were the second set of shots we heard.”

“What about Adam?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know where to look—and I didn’t want to leave you to do it.” His attentions taken up by the living, finding a corpse had slipped low on his priority list.

She lifted his hand, kissed it. “Thank you.” She smiled at him, but it was a strained smile, and he knew, now that she was fully awake, the pain from the gunshot would kick in.

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning his hand to cover hers and doing a little kissing of his own. Her hand was so cool. So small in his.
Almost gone . . .
He sucked up a breath; no point dwelling on the “what ifs. She was here. She was safe. That’s all that mattered.

“Find him, Dan. Please. He might be—”

She winced again, couldn’t finish, but Dan recognized hope when he saw it. He touched her cheek, smoothed some stray hair back. She wanted to know, and right now all he wanted was for her to stay calm. “I’ll check, but don’t try to move.” He gave her as stern a look as he could, remembering as he did the fear in watching her fall, seeing her blood flow. It had damn near stopped his heart. He doubted it would ever beat steadily again. “Do
not move,”
he said. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Dan headed for the stairs, the sound of sirens—finally— coming to his ear.
Thank God.

The sooner he and Camryn were out of this hellhole of a house, the happier he’d be. He took the stairs two at a time and strode quickly down the hall, opening doors—there seemed to be a hundred of them—before he discovered another set of stairs leading to an attic room.

Which was where he found Dunn—in a massive pool of blood, with a good part of his lower torso blown away.

Dead. Definitely dead.

Dan set his hands on his hips, let out a long breath, looked away, and briefly closed his eyes. He thought about covering the body with a blanket from the bed but knew it would mess things up for the cops.

He looked back at the ruined corpse, wondered if he was looking at the remains of the man who’d killed his wife. The father of the little girl he loved.

His chest constricted, in some weird hybrid of anger and pity. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done. He guessed now he’d never know if Dunn killed Holly, and while he hated not knowing, one thing was certain, he wouldn’t have wished this kind of dying on any man.

He walked out, leaving the door open.

He met the police and a medic coming up the stairs, shook his head and pointed toward the attic. Let them do their jobs; he was going downstairs to Camryn, and he planned to stay with her—and Kylie—for the rest of his life.

All he had to do was convince her of that.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” Camryn teased when she walked into the den and saw Dan sprawled on her sofa, shoes off, his long denim-covered legs stretched in front of him. She set the bowl of buttered popcorn she was carrying on the coffee table in front of him and experienced the usual stomach flip when he looked up at her and winked.

She still limped, and she’d have a rather interesting and unlovely three-inch scar on her upper thigh to show off if she ever donned a bikini again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it. She was alive. Dan was alive. Kylie was safe, and they were together, even if it were an undefined relationship on an uncharted testing ground that neither of them seemed anxious to talk about. It was as if, in the three weeks since the shooting, she and Dan both needed the days of calm, time to gather their breath and thoughts. Be normal.

“I
am
home.” Dan said, muting the TV. She glanced at it, expecting to see a game of some sort. It was an old black-and-white movie.

She smiled and sat beside him. He immediately put his arm around her, drew her close, and kissed her temple. “Kylie asleep?”

“Her and a hundred stuffed animals.”

“Grantman called a while ago, when you were putting her to bed.”

“How’s Erin doing?”

“Good, so he says. That’s why he called. He’s flying down to see her.”

“I’m glad. Glad for all of us: Paul, Kylie—it’s good all around.” She paused. “What about you and Paul?”

He slid her a glance. “What
about
us?”

“Do you talk? Are things okay between you?”

“First off, men don’t ‘talk.’ They form pacts of manly silence. Grunts are optional.” He smiled at her.

“That sounds tedious and ineffective.”

He laughed. “Both. But it works. I figure in a few years, maybe we’ll go to a Seahawks game together. Now, that’s bonding.”

For a time they watched the movie, soundless. “How’s the leg?”

“How about you quit asking me that? Or are you angling to see my scar again?”

He wiggled his brows. “How’d you guess?”

“Maybe because the last time you had me drop my jeans, it went way, way beyond looking.” She picked up the bowl, held it out to him. “Have some popcorn.”

He laughed again, took some popcorn, and settled back into silence. He looked as though he were watching the muted movie, but Camryn knew he wasn’t.

“I called the Boston Police Department today.”

Of all the things he might have said, she hadn’t expected this. She sighed, knowing their escape to normal was at an end. “And?”

“They didn’t say as much, but I think they’ve put Holly’s file on the back burner. I think they’re chalking it up as a random murder.”

“Meaning they have nothing? Nothing at all?” The idea of not knowing who killed Holly made her both sad and angry—and a bit sick to her stomach. It wasn’t right that justice would not be done, that there was someone out there who’d gotten away with murder. But, as she’d learned the hard way the night of the shooting, life wasn’t always fair—or just—and things weren’t always what they seemed or should be. Nor were people.

He shook his head. “Same result from the P.I. Grantman hired. Everything comes up a dead end.”

“It’s hard to accept, isn’t it? Not knowing.”

“Yeah.”

“You still think it was Adam?”

“Logic said he was a reasonable suspect. He was in Boston at the time. Holly had dumped him. He needed money, and getting custody of Kylie was his way to do that. It seemed to make sense.”

“And now?”

“Now, I think your famous”—he narrowed his gaze, showed a hint of stubbornness—“intuition, sixth sense, or whatever was probably right about him. A lot of not so nice things about the guy, but not the killing type.”

“Plus, he refused to kill me—even though the same motivation still applied.”

Dan nodded. “There is that. Thank God.”

Again the room fell to silence. Camryn put her head on Dan’s arm and closed her eyes. She thought of Holly, Gina and Adam. She thought of herself those many years ago and wondered again why she’d been able to let Adam go and neither Holly nor Gina ever had. She couldn’t understand it. Just as she couldn’t understand why, of the three of them, she was the one who would never bear a child. At that thought, the usual sliver of pain pierced her heart. She took a breath and worked to let it go. She had Kylie. She was blessed.

As blessed as Gina was cursed.

“Sebastian is moving back in with Delores, did you know that?” she said. The words came out reluctantly because she didn’t want to think about the Solaris, their complicated, tragic lives. Or the deeply disturbed Gina, now in West Seattle Psychiatric, in the “padded room” she’d so often joked was reserved for her eccentric mother. “He said he’s going to stay until she’s ‘out of the woods.’”

“I still can’t believe she made it. How many surgeries?”

“Three.”

Dan shook his head.

Camryn’s heart seemed to slow in her chest. “Seb got Gina a lawyer.”

“That’s going to be a tough one.” He met her gaze. “And my guess is you’d rather not talk about it.”

She nodded. “I’m going to go see her—just not yet.”

“Smart.” He said nothing more for a moment, then, “Have you heard from your dad yet?” He turned, put an arm over the back of the sofa.

“Yesterday.” And the call had left her numb and uncertain. Maybe because of her dad’s unexpected coolness. She’d privately hoped his living with her these past few months might have changed things between them. His voice on the phone said otherwise.

“You didn’t mention it.”

“No.” She’d talked to Dan about her dad, their long non-relationship, how she’d always felt there was some skewed genes that made it impossible for her to connect with him, but she still felt guilty about it. Whatever was between them had never felt right. She loved him, but always sensed her love wasn’t enough, that he was too busy for it.

“Is he okay?”

“He says so.” And she’d wanted to believe him but hadn’t been able to shake the sense of unease she’d felt since hanging up the phone.

“But?” he prodded.

“He was . . . remote. And his voice was weak and hoarse. When I asked him about it, he said he had a touch of the flu.” She paused. “He also said he won’t be back, that he’s moving south.” He’d promised to call her ‘when he got where he was going.’ A statement much like the ones he’d always made when he took off to pursue another of his schemes. Still, the call had left her confused and strangely sad.

“Then he must be okay.” He studied her face a second. “He’ll be back, Camryn.”

“I don’t think so.”

Dan frowned. “Because of me? Us?”

“Hard to say what his reasons are.” She ran her hand along his firm thigh, squeezed. “He says it’s time for him to move on. ‘To greener pastures’ he said. I just hope those pastures don’t contain another sour business deal. I’m not sure he can take another one of those.”

“He’s a big boy, Camryn. He’ll be okay—and if he isn’t, you’ll hear about it.”

“Yes.” She put her hand on her chest, massaged the tightness, the odd gloominess resident there since her father’s call, and told herself Dan was right; if something was wrong, she’d hear.

They rested in quiet for a time, and both of them ignored the popcorn. The TV was still on MUTE. Camryn could almost hear Dan’s mind shifting gears, moving in another direction.

Finally, he said, “I do have a home to go to, you know. Or had, at least. In L.A., remember?”

She turned her head enough to look at him. “What are you saying?”

“I put it up for sale. There’s an offer on it. A good one.” He stopped, pulled his arm from behind her, and picked up the TV remote. He hit the OFF button.

Camryn straightened. Here it was. She’d known damn well it was coming, and while it made her crazy with happiness and expectation, it also frightened her in a way she couldn’t define. It was too . . . easy. Which, when she considered the tragedy of Holly’s death, Adam’s selfish intentions, and Gina’s terrible plan, describing their relationship as
easy
made no sense at all. Yet, Dan Lambert had slipped into her casual and well-organized life as if he were the final puzzle piece—as if he’d belonged there all along.

Now, after only a few weeks, she couldn’t imagine him not being here. She loved him, and she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted a man. But there were those three little words. Words he hadn’t even said to Holly, because he didn’t believe in them. Silly, romantic words that shouldn’t matter after all they’d been through together, but somehow did matter, more than she cared to admit.

He turned his head, set his seriously green and intense eyes on her. “I’m going down to deal with the sale and a few business things. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone a few days.” He stopped. “And when I come back, I’d like to settle things between us.”

“Settle things?” If ever there was a vague statement that was it.

“About Kylie. About us. The custody issue.”

“I see.” She ignored the ripple of tension on her neck. God, they were back to that. She sighed, told herself she should be glad it was only Dan she had left to deal with, since Paul and Erin had stepped aside and decided the role of doting grandparents would be enough. Unable to sit any longer, Camryn stood and limped toward the fireplace.