[BAD 07] - Silent Truth (9 page)

This one didn’t coo and her gaze kept straying the whole time she talked, as if searching for someone else.

Another man?

Damned if that didn’t dig at his ego.

Didn’t she realize he was flirting? Or had he lost his touch?

She stopped visually canvassing the room and gave him her full attention. One soft brown eyebrow winged up in a silent reminder that she still wanted to know why he’d asked to speak to her alone.

Stick with the truth whenever possible. “Wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

Was that the extent of her vocabulary? He couldn’t remember another word that had poked a hole in his patience the way that one was doing.

Any other woman would be smiling by now.

Her lips hadn’t twitched, much less curved up. She still eyed him suspiciously.

Maybe asking “why” was her way of making
him
lose interest first.

Didn’t she feel the least appreciation for his help?

Hunter released a sigh. “To be honest, I think we’ve
met somewhere before, but I can’t remember where. Thought you might know.”

“Nope. Don’t remember meeting you.” She looked away and fidgeted with her purse, both actions saying she’d just lied as much as the too-quick answer did.

Did she know him?

Maybe she was just nervous and saying anything to get out of this situation.

Not that he thought all women should fall at his feet, but he’d never seen one in such a hurry to brush him off. Ego aside, her attitude generated suspicion. What could be so pressing that it kept her glancing around and trying to end the conversation?

He pulled out a safe question she couldn’t answer with “Why?” “What brings you here tonight?”

Her eyes snapped up at him and narrowed with a flash of wariness then she seemed to catch herself and shrugged. “Same thing brings you here, I would assume. An invitation.”

Still not giving an inch.

Talking to Lydia would have been easier.

“Actually, I came as a favor.” Even if his teammates didn’t see it that way. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, considered something, then said, “Abbie.”

He’d let the last name go, for now. Hunter tapped his chin and concentrated as if her name meant something when he still had no clue where they’d met or who she was. “Abbie. Abbie. Sounds familiar. What do you do?”

Panic streaked through her gaze before she checked it. “I’m a writer. Nothing you’d be impressed with.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t be impressed?”

She let her eyes travel up and down him in assessment. “I know. What do you do?”

The Thornton-Payne dynasty had a hand in everything from communications to finance to arms manufacturing. He could choose one and no one would question him, but claiming any credit for the family businesses would be unfair to his brother, who actually oversaw many of the operations.

Also, she had some burr under her skin about the wealthy, so the less said with regard to his family the better.

Hunter gave her what he considered a fair answer. “I solve problems for other people.”

“Like… helping with Lydia?”

Did she make a joke?

Abbie smiled. Her eyes twinkled blue, a natural color that reminded him of the Caribbean waters under a blazing sun. “What are you, like a rent-a-white-knight?”

Hell no.
But he’d finally earned a smile and kept his sarcastic retort safely behind his lips.

Now
he’d make some headway.

That smile of hers and those eyes. He
had
seen them somewhere before, dammit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” A familiar male voice boomed from Hunter’s left, shattering the moment.

He turned his head to see a man whose height mirrored Hunter’s, with a lighter build and the same shade of blond hair. His brother.

An icon in the Chicago corporate landscape, the high-profile Thornton-Payne heir whom Hunter would like to see any time other than right now.

Long story, Todd.” Hunter shook hands with his brother, surprised to see him at the Wentworth event. Hugging amounted to a public display of affection. His family would be appalled.

“Haven’t seen you in what? Eight months?” Todd finished shaking, then turned to Abbie. “And you are?”

“Abbie.” Hunter jumped in before Todd could blow his anonymity with this woman by giving his last name. “This is Todd. Todd, this is Abbie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Her smile had vanished along with the relaxed air in the few seconds since Todd arrived. She gave Hunter’s brother the same assessing sweep, made some internal judgment she didn’t share, and took a step away. “Sounds like you two have some catching up to do and I have to find someone.” She finished the sentence, then turned and scurried into the crowd.

Dammit to hell. Hunter wasn’t through with her.

“Who was that?” Todd asked. “Don’t think I’ve seen her around.”

“All I know is her name. I don’t think this is her usual social circle.” Talk about blowing him off without a second thought. He hadn’t been hitting on her. Not really.

Abbie didn’t fit his requirements for a night in the sack, mainly because his criteria didn’t demand much. A sex kitten brimming with self-importance offered just enough challenge to keep an evening sporting for two
people with zero emotional investment.

Or as Abbie had aptly put it—no harm, no foul.

No heart.

And none of the women Hunter spent a few hours burning off energy with expected to hear from him again. He couldn’t say the nights were memorable, but he didn’t make any promises or leave anyone in tears.

Abbie looked like a woman who bubbled with emotion.

He bet she’d be a memorable night.

But she’d expect a second date, phone calls, and more.

How had he strayed this far off his mental target of figuring out how he knew her and why she was here? Remembering Todd, Hunter started to ask how the move to Chicago was going when he realized his brother had forgotten him as well.

Todd stared with longing at something or someone.

Hunter followed Todd’s line of sight to Pia, his brother’s ex-wife.

Engrossed in a conversation with two other women, Pia was just as stunning as she’d been on the cover of
Cosmopolitan
when Todd first showed Hunter a picture of his new squeeze three years back. Pia still wore a size two, even after giving birth to her and Todd’s little boy eighteen months ago.

She erupted in laughter at something her friend said and glanced over in time to meet Hunter’s gaze, which she returned with undisguised hostility.

Hunter took in Todd’s pained expression, the look of a man who had been royally screwed, literally and then figuratively.

Todd and Pia had married after a whirlwind affair,
because they had supposedly fallen “in love at first sight.”

What a crock.

The baby showed up seven months after the wedding.

Another woman with an agenda, and like all the others, Pia lacked a conscience and a soul. The only thing he’d say in her favor was that she never fought Todd for full custody.

Hunter cleared his throat and Todd swung around with too bright a smile, working to hide where his mind had drifted. “What
are
you doing here? You hate these things.”

Tell me about it.
“Doing a favor for a friend.”

“Must be some friend.”

“Something like that.” Hunter appreciated how his brother never whined about Hunter not calling to let anyone know he was coming to town. Todd had no idea how Hunter filled his daytime or nighttime hours since they both had substantial trust funds. His brother never pried.

In Hunter’s family, lack of interest was considered a way of showing respect for privacy.

Hunter had a bad feeling about the answer he might get but asked anyhow. “Why are
you
here?”

“Just doing my part for charity.” Todd lifted a scotch and water into view and took a drink. More like he slammed the alcohol and handed the empty glass off to a waiter before letting a wince escape in Pia’s direction.

Not a good sign.

Hunter hadn’t heard of Todd dating much in the past six months of freedom from that auburn-haired
ball-and-chain whose laughter punched across the twenty feet separating them. But Hunter hadn’t been to Chicago since his brother moved here.

Please tell me you aren’t thinking about getting back with that scheming bitch even if it means the chance to live full-time with your little boy.

Todd should just take Pia to court and get custody of Barrett.

She couldn’t be much of a mother.

Relationships, friendships, marriage, families—all baggage that ends up breaking apart at the seams when life hits rough pavement.
Or was nothing more than a financial arrangement to begin with if the women involved are anything like our mother.

“Are
you window shopping?” Hunter surely hoped so. He didn’t like that I-want-her-back look hanging on his brother’s face.

“Not really. Nothing new on the market.” Todd hooked a hand around his neck and rubbed. “How long you in town for?”

As short a trip as possible.
“Don’t know. Got a little business to do.”

“You get a free night, let me know. We’ll grab dinner.”

Guilt peeked into Hunter’s mind over how long it had been since he’d shared dinner with Todd, the only member of his family who called from time to time just to see that Hunter was still alive. None of them knew how many times that status had almost changed. “Sounds like a plan. Catch you later.”

“See you.” Todd took the scotch a waiter delivered and chugged half the drink.

Three steps away, Hunter slowed to turn around and
tell his brother he’d definitely meet him for dinner, but he had no idea if he’d be in Chicago tomorrow night or halfway around the world.

He was still considering the possibility when the profile of a man standing in the atrium with the curved double stairway just beyond this ballroom caused Hunter’s pulse to vibrate. He’d seen that face with the scar running along the right cheek and jaw once before, on the night he and Eliot breached Brugmann’s compound.

During the debrief a day later, Joe and Retter had considered it unlikely that the scar-faced mystery guy could have gotten in position in time to shoot Eliot’s rope.

But the guy
had
been on-site the night Eliot was murdered.

Framed by the high archway opening between the rooms, the mystery man now lingered near the left base of the stairway, partially blocked by the tiered fountain in the center of the atrium.

Hunter continued moving very slowly. Standing still drew attention.

Could that guy have been the sniper or had he been only the buyer for the stolen list of names?

Either way, he’d escaped a massacre, so he had to know something about what went down after Hunter and Eliot exited Brugmann’s property.

Hunter scouted the room with vigilance, listening for the damned signal. What was Linette waiting on?

He worked casually through the cluster of attendees, letting his eyes drift back and forth as though he were interested in who was here.

When he drew within fifty feet of the mystery guy, security stepped into view on each side of the arched
opening, barring anyone from entering the atrium, where the mystery guy remained.

Was he waiting for someone?

Could Hunter be staring at the man who killed Eliot?

None of the security protecting this particular area included BAD agents. He couldn’t move closer without attracting interest from them, but he was the only agent in position to observe without detection right now.

Years of training and a brutal determination to find the assassin was the only way he hid the shaking need to rush that scar-faced guy and grab him by the throat.

Hunter’s mental gears snapped into motion. He took stock of his position. Remaining in close proximity without talking to another guest would alert security, if they were on their toes.

For what the Wentworths probably paid, they should be.

Hunter did a fast assessment of everyone surrounding him, searching for one person who wouldn’t be so intent on talking they’d interfere with his surveillance.

His gaze skidded to a halt when he found Abbie again.

She stood off by herself, leaning back against a wall, studying the room almost as closely as he had.

She sure as hell wouldn’t talk to him.

He had an idea. Hunter walked over and approached from a blind side, then whispered near Abbie’s ear. “I know why you’re here.”

She froze, her hand in midair, lifting another full glass of champagne to her lips.

Damned if that reaction didn’t send his guilt meter into the red zone. He hadn’t meant to terrify her, just raise her curiosity.

“What do you want?” she said in a barely civil tone, but he heard more. Surprise, disbelief… then alarm. As though she faced dire consequences for being found out.

He had an idea why she sounded guilty. “Ten minutes.”

She licked her lips, thinking, then carefully placed the untouched champagne glass on the corner of a table and lifted away from the wall on unsteady feet.