B008DKAYYQ EBOK (18 page)

Rage twisted Cole’s insides and, closing his eyes, he gripped the steering wheel with sweaty palms.

He was doing it again. He was doing the thing he swore he would never do again. With a story or a woman.

He was getting involved.

Chapter 24

Bailey’s hand trembled as she finished her cooling coffee. What was left of her favorite breakfast sat before her, only half-eaten.
 

Payne Kincaid lifted the carafe to refill her cup, but she shook her head. “I’ve already had too much, thanks,” she said, blaming the caffeine for the shakes.

He poured his cup half full and took his time stirring in sugar and cream.
 

Bailey’s gaze was drawn to his long, elegant fingers, so like her father’s. For a moment, she let herself long for her dad. She could have used one of his bear hugs about now.

Payne set down his spoon and lifted the cup. “What do you think James has gotten himself into this time?”

She toyed with the fork next to her plate, hating that she’d cast suspicion on her brother.
 

Payne seemed to read her thoughts. “Your attacker is the one who brought him into this, not you.”

She nodded. He was right. She had to remember that.
 

“Has he mentioned anything at all that might be an indication of what he’s involved in?” Payne asked.

“No. He’s very careful around me. He says I watch him too closely and that he’s terrified of screwing up.” She bit her lip. “He’s right. I watch him all the time. It can’t be easy for him.”

“Have you told the police that your attacker made a reference to James?”

Killing you would be worth it just to see the look on your deadbeat brother’s face.

She shifted her gaze to the windows, where a wall of dark clouds was creeping up on the unsuspecting sun. “How can I do that? He’s my brother. He could … he could lose custody of Austin.”

“Bailey.” He sat forward and grasped her hand on the table. “James has apparently gotten himself into some trouble. Trouble, I might add, that has spilled violently into your life. Have you considered what might happen if your attacker turns his attention to Austin when he can’t find you?”

She drew her hand away and laid it over her lurching stomach. She remembered how her nephew had looked in the wee hours of the morning—sleep-ruffled but so excited he could barely contain himself—as he, his grandparents and A.J.’s dad had driven away, headed for a week at Disney World. It wasn’t a safe house, but Bailey figured it was plenty safe as long as no one else knew where they’d gone. Including James.

“Austin is safe,” she said, her voice low.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He waited, as if expecting her to elaborate. But she didn’t. She hadn’t told him about the film in the camera, either. The fewer people who knew, the better.

He took a sip of coffee, peering at her over the rim of the cup. He didn’t speak again until he’d set the cup back on the table. “Would you like me to talk to James? Maybe it wouldn’t do any good, but you never know.”

“Would you?” Hope made her sit up a little straighter. “You’re the closest thing he’s got to a father. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. Or at least get him to tell you what’s going on.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Thank you, Uncle Payne. For everything.”

He smiled as the phone near his hand chirped. “That’s what family is for, isn’t it?” He stood as he picked up the phone. “Please excuse me a moment.”

He stepped away from the table, and Bailey leaned back in her chair. James and Payne had been inseparable before the accident, but afterward, their relationship had seemed to suffer. Of course, everyone’s relationship with James had been strained. Bailey hoped that when Payne talked to him, they could work out their issues and perhaps get close again. She hated seeing her brother so alone, so adrift. And she hated what the instability would do to Austin.

Payne returned to the table. “That was the front gate. A business associate is on his way up to the house.” He gestured at the newspaper. “Take your time. Read. Enjoy the sunshine—” He broke off as he glanced toward the windows. “Or, rather, the incoming storm. Whatever you like. I’m going to take this meeting in my office.”

Setting her napkin on the table, Bailey rose. “I have to head into work, actually.”

His eyebrows arched. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She shrugged. “I can’t sit around all day.”

“I’ll have my driver take you in. He’ll spend the day with you.”

“That’s very generous, but—”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. Your father, God rest his soul, would haunt me for the rest of my life if I let anything happen to you.”

She thought about what he was offering. An ad hoc bodyguard was tempting. The thought of stepping off Payne’s property and putting herself out in the open terrified her. She had no intention of running and hiding, though the thought had occurred to her more than once. But now that she knew what the intruder was after, she itched to find out why. To do that, she had to go to work, retrieve the camera stashed in her locker there and take the film to a one-hour photo lab.

“All right,” she said finally. “My car is being towed to the shop to get the window fixed anyway.”

Payne smiled. “That wasn’t nearly as tough as I thought it would be.”

She laughed. “You played the Dad card right away.”

“I’ll have to remember that that works.” He turned at the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. “There’s my associate, his manners as impeccable as always.”

She looked over his shoulder as a large, bald man with freckles ambled from the living room area. She recognized him instantly, and her skin did a slow crawl.

“Yo, Kincaid,” Dixon Ramsey said, his stride all but a swagger until he spotted Bailey. His steps faltered.

“Yo back, Mr. Ramsey,” Payne said dryly. “I’m sure you remember Bailey Chase.”

His demeanor changed as if he’d just shed his skin for a more civilized one. “Sure. Hello.”

She returned his polite smile, though hers was tight. She’d met him once before, several months ago. He’d been exiting Payne’s office when she had dropped by for an unexpected visit, and Payne had introduced him as his second in command. Then, Ramsey’s gaze had swept over her body from head to foot as he mentally stripped away every inch of her clothing with no subtlety whatsoever. When Payne was looking, however, he kept his leering in check.
 

“Please wait for me in my office, Mr. Ramsey.”

As soon as Ramsey was out of Payne’s line of vision, the thug shot a wink at her over his shoulder. She suppressed a shudder. He made her feel dirty without even touching her. It surprised her, as it had the first time she’d met him, that he worked with Payne. He didn’t strike her as the respectable, or honorable, type. But looks could be deceiving.
 

“I’ll let you get to work, Uncle Payne.” She gave him a quick hug. “Thanks again. For everything. You’re a life saver.”

He beamed. “I’m glad I can help. I’ll call my driver to let him know what we’ve planned for his day.”

As she walked out of the room, she heard Payne say to Ramsey, “I need you to go pick something up for me.”

Back in the guest room, Bailey was packing up her overnight stuff when rain began to lash the windows and thunder shook the massive house. She was still worried about James, still tense about what she would find on the film in Austin’s camera and what it meant. But she felt better knowing Payne Kincaid was getting involved. If there was anything he could do to help, she knew he would.
 

With Payne Kincaid, Jamie would undoubtedly be in good hands.

#####

Chapter 25

Parking at the curb in front of A.J.’s pale pink apartment building, Cole was surprised that Bailey’s car was nowhere to be seen. Surely she hadn’t gone to work already. He’d checked her schedule before going to see Molly, telling himself that wondering when to expect her was perfectly natural. Her first assignment was scheduled for one in the afternoon.

Of course, he knew nothing about her routine. She might have rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn, jogged, shopped, washed her car and volunteered at the homeless shelter before reporting for work.

As he walked up the front steps to the outer security door of A.J.’s building, glad that the thunderstorm had been brief, he fished out his cell phone and dialed his other contact at the Kendall Falls Police Department. He hoped the guy would finally be willing to chat about whether the cops had gotten any hits on fingerprints lifted from Bailey’s trashed apartment.

The man sounded harried when he answered. “Yeah?”

“Steve, it’s Cole Goodman. Please tell me you’ve got something to share on that break-in last week.”

“Yeah, we got nothing. Sorry, buddy.”

“But before you acted like you had something.” As one of A.J.’s neighbors walked out, Cole caught the steel security door and slipped inside, heading for her apartment.

“We did get a hit on a set of prints, but turns out they belong to the vic’s brother.”

Cole was stunned. “James Chase? His prints are in the system?”

“Yep. He did four years for involuntary manslaughter. Just got out last year.”

“Who did he kill?”

“His father.”

Cole would have been floored, except he was standing in front of A.J.’s door, which was crisscrossed with yellow police tape.

* * *

James glowered at the back of Dixon Ramsey’s head, wishing he had a weapon he could slam into it. The man had shown up at his apartment half an hour before and without so much as asking politely, ordered him into the car to go meet with Payne Kincaid. When James resisted, still pleasantly smashed from the copious amounts of beer he’d consumed throughout the night and into the early morning hours, Ramsey showed him the gun he carried in a holster under his arm.

Now, James should have been trying to figure out what he was going to tell Kincaid about what progress he’d made getting the money he owed him. Unfortunately, his fading buzz—and growing anxiety—made it impossible to concentrate.

As he and Ramsey entered Kincaid’s living room with its ceramic tile floor and fancy artwork, the man himself turned to face them, a coffee mug clasped in one hand. A diamond glittered in the subtle light.
 

“Sit down, James,” he said, gesturing.
 

James plopped into a plush, dark brown leather armchair and glared at the sleek black panther sculpture perched on a pedestal beside him.
 

Kincaid crossed to stand before him. “Are you drunk?”

James looked up at him. “Nope.”

“Your eyes are red, and you staggered when you came in.”

“I had a couple beers.”
Because my fucking life is falling apart, you ass hat!

Kincaid peered into his face, his eyes steely. “Mr. Ramsey? Would you fetch my friend here some black coffee?”

James saw Ramsey shake his head at Kincaid’s back before he left the room, apparently miffed at being asked to “fetch” anything. James would have liked for the SOB to do that to Kincaid’s face and see what happened.

Sitting up in the chair, James cleared his throat, preparing to sound sober and serious. “I’ll be straight with you. I don’t have your money yet. But I’m working on it.”

Kincaid settled onto the supple leather sofa that matched the chair. “I’m going to get right to the reason I asked Mr. Ramsey to bring you here today.” He paused and crossed his legs. “Your actions have placed your sister in harm’s way, and I’m not happy about that. Now, if you’ll kindly tell me who is terrorizing her to get to you, I’ll have it taken care of.”

James stared at him, baffled and intensely regretting the beer binge. “What?”
 

Kincaid’s lips thinned as he pressed them together. “Your sister has been attacked twice, and her home was ransacked.”

James sat straighter, his buzz dying for good. “She’s been attacked
twice
? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. Last night, there was an intruder at her friend’s home. I believe he mentioned you.”

She hadn’t called him. Why hadn’t she called him?
“But she’s all right,” he repeated.

“Yes. I already said that. Now, if you tell me who’s behind these shenanigans, I’ll take care of it.”

James didn’t respond as his brain raced to reconnect connections he’d already made. He’d thought Kincaid was behind the first attack on Bailey. He’d denied it innocently enough, but James had seen him make the same denials to other employees who had screwed up. That was what he did. He made his prey so paranoid that the poor bastard ended up chasing his own tail in his head:
Kincaid’s fucking with me. Kincaid’s not fucking with me. Kincaid’s fucking with me. Oh, fuck.

“James.”

He jerked his head up as the other thing that Kincaid had said registered.
“There was an intruder at her friend’s home. I believe he mentioned you.”
Bewilderment made his head spin. Why on earth would an intruder mention
him
?