Behind the Shadows (11 page)

She liked that “our side.” She left an hour later, feeling much better. She planned to do exactly as he suggested. He would get rid of the pretender.

The sense of violation, though, ran deep. She had been used. Lied to. She had invited someone into her house as a guest and her hospitality was abused.

Not only abused but trashed with an outrageous falsehood.

Max prided himself on self-control. Some, including the CEO of Westerfield Industries, called it arrogance. Perhaps they were right, because Max didn't give a damn what others thought.

He had a small opinion of most people. He'd been dumped as a kid into a group home, then foster care, and that didn't endear him to authority and courts and do-gooders.

He owed one person. No one else. He planned never to owe anyone else again, and he was wary of anyone venturing too close to him.

And no one had, not until this weekend when he'd spent a few hours with a woman he would usually avoid.

He knew now why he distrusted such emotions. Kira Douglas was a liar.

Max wanted to slam something. Instead, he finished eating. It was important that Leigh not notice how angry he was.

He had protected her now for more than twenty years. It had become more than a habit, especially when he had discovered what was behind her self-destructive actions. He related only too well.

He also felt deceived. He had been fooled by misty blue eyes and earnestness.

He looked at his companion at the table. Leigh was picking at her salad, but her eyes caught his and held. She had changed in the past year. Or maybe he had. What he used to believe was irresponsibility was really shyness and fear, and God knew she had a right to both of them.

Still, Max wanted to hurry her. He had appointments this afternoon but none he couldn't cancel. He wanted to call Kira Douglas and find out what in the hell was going on. And if she was playing games with Leigh, or was a threat to her, he would destroy her.

12

Kira spent Saturday afternoon taking care of business for the Clean Sweep. She sent out bills to clients and made out checks for employees.

She wanted her mother to come back to a functioning business. She
would
come back.

The busywork, though, couldn't quench the dread in her heart. Kira knew the roof was going to fall in on her. She simply didn't know when.

She should have told Max Payton about what she suspected. Suspected? Hell, no. What she knew. Now he probably wouldn't believe anything she said.

That thought hurt. Far more than she wanted to admit.

It had been a long time since a guy made her tingle from the inside out. Even longer since she'd been so challenged in every way. She liked him as well as being so physically attracted to him. She liked the preciseness of his mind, the trace of gallantry after they left the restaurant. She liked the ease with which he made conversation even while gently interrogating her.

But the supper had probably been their first and last social meeting. He did not seem a man who took kindly to lies. And she had lied by omission. Big time.

The phone rang and she hesitated. She felt as if she were jumping out of her skin. It kept ringing. When she picked up the receiver, she heard a very cold, very hard, clipped voice. She'd heard that words could sound like pieces of ice falling, but she'd never experienced it before. An apt description.

“There are things we need to talk about,” Max said after introducing himself very curtly as Max Payton.

“You've talked to Leigh.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Even icier if possible.

“There's a reason I didn't tell you Friday.”

“Really?”

She could mentally see him raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

“When do you want to meet?” she asked.

“As soon as possible. Leigh is understandably upset. No, she's bewildered and furious. Just as anyone would be when confronted with … your … bombshell.”

Time was of the essence for her as well. Maybe she could convince him, even enlist his aid. “Today?”

“Yes.”

That clipped, angry tone again. She tried to ignore it. “Where?”

“My office.” The answer was curt.
No intimate bistro tonight
.

“I can be there this afternoon,” she said.

“Four?”

“I'll be there.”

He gave directions, then hung up without another word. Her heart dropped. She'd hoped for the benefit of the doubt. But then, she hadn't given him that. She'd had supper with him as if she hadn't a care in the word, when she was really carrying around information that could shatter his client.

His office. No suggestion of her home. Obviously he meant to be in control. Well, she owed him that much.

She thought about calling Chris. She'd already reported the conversation with Leigh and planned to meet with him Sunday. But she'd asked enough of him already, and this was her problem.

She glanced at her watch. She had enough time to run over and see her mother first.

Leigh couldn't get the reporter's words from her mind. The lunch with Max had helped, but she was jumpy with anxiety. Beyond restless.

Perhaps some work at Seth's office would help while she waited for Max to report back.

Seth was talking to his campaign manager as she entered his headquarters. He grinned when he saw her, then his smile faded as his gaze met her eyes.

“Excuse me,” he told the man with him and came over to her. “Hey, Cous, what's wrong?”

“That obvious?”

“You look like you lost your best friend. I would have thought you would be ecstatic after the story in the paper. It was terrific.”

“You saw it?”

“Someone brought over an early edition of the Sunday paper.” He picked a section of the paper up and handed it to her.

She stared down at herself. The photo covered nearly a quarter of a page and she looked good. She quickly read the story. She would have loved it had she not discovered it had a poisonous seed. She truly wanted to kill Kira Douglas at the moment.

Seth hugged her. “Good job, princess.”

The gesture surprised her because Seth wasn't a demonstrative person. No one in her family was. Except her mother. She remembered her mother's cheek against her, the smell of roses. Or was that just something she dreamed? It had been so long ago.

And now someone wanted to take even those few memories away.

“Come inside my office,” he said. “Jack can wait.”

She followed him into the office, ignoring the look of impatience on his manager's face.

He sat on the corner of a neat desk. “What is it?” he asked.

She recalled what Max had said.
Don't tell anyone
. But Seth wasn't
anyone
. He was and always had been her friend.

She quickly told him. He was five years older than she. He might have heard rumors if anything had been odd.

His face reddened with anger as she talked. “She should be fired,” he said. “You want me to call the newspaper for you?”

“I don't want you to do anything that would hurt your campaign. Max is looking into it. He's going to talk to her.”

“I hate to admit it, but you're in good hands then. God, I can't even imagine what you're feeling. Forget it. You look like your mother. Everyone has always said that, particularly your grandfather.”

He was right. Everyone had said she favored her mother. Another reason to totally disregard the wild ramblings of a reporter.

She brightened.

“You're an heiress,” he continued. “And there's a lot of money at stake. Maybe she thinks she can get you to settle to keep a false claim out of the papers.”

“Max will pound her into the ground,” she said. “
I'm
afraid of him, and I think he likes me. I'm never quite sure.”

“Max is a pain in the ass,” Seth said. “He guards that trust like it was his. He forgets it should be yours.”

“And yours,” she said.

He shrugged. “I'm a grandnephew, not a grandson. And Ed didn't like my dad much. We did okay.”

Leigh had always felt guilty that she'd received the bulk of the estate—through the trust, true—while her second cousins received only a token inheritance. Grandfather had said in the will that it was because she was his direct heir, but she suspected it had something to do with the fact that neither of his brothers or nephews had gone into his business. Or had succumbed to his dictates.

She also suspected that he wished Max was his son. He had left Max a life tenancy of a house on the property, a large amount of stock for himself, and control of the trust, which included the majority of corporation stock. As far as she knew, Max was the only person he'd really trusted.

Neither Seth nor David had shown any concern about the will. But she would have, had the situation been reversed.

“It still isn't right,” she said.

“Well, you don't have it, either,” Seth said. “Max does.” This time, some bitterness did creep into his voice.

“He'll take care of this reporter,” she said, trying to reassure herself.

“Don't worry about it, Cous. If he doesn't, I will. I've fought for judge and district attorney pay raises and helped several to raise funds. They'll listen to me.”

She said to him what she didn't say to Max. “What if it's true? She was so … convinced that it was.”

“Con artists are always convincing,” he said. Then he stood. “I wouldn't worry about it. I would have heard if there had ever been any question about your birth. But I'll do a little digging myself.”

“Don't,” she said. “Let Max do it first, and please don't say anything. Not yet.”

“For you, princess, anything. But let me know if you need anything.”

“I really do want to get more involved in your campaign after the horse show is over,” Leigh replied. “I need to keep busy.”

“Great. I'll tell Jack. You would be great with fund-raising events. You know people; you know possible venues; you're a great hostess.”

Not so much. She was always terrified something would go wrong, but she'd developed a calm mask that covered the butterflies in her stomach.

Can't you do anything right?

Her grandfather's voice came from the past. Her ex-husband's voice. God, she'd tried to drown them out.

She nodded. “I would like that.”

“Good. It's settled. Hey, I have a fund-raiser tonight. Why don't you go with me? Get a taste for it?”

Max would call later. “Not this time,” she said. “I'm expecting Max to call.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Slowly, she nodded. She didn't want to be alone. “I'll do that.”

Kira's heart pounded as she approached Max's office. It was in a high-rise office building near Olympic Park. She noticed from the directory on the ground floor that Westerfield Industries had two floors of offices. She asked the security guard for Max Payton's office and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

A large reception desk guarded the rest of the floor. It was empty at the moment.

Then Max stepped out of an office and stood aside for her to enter.

“No one else here?” she said.

“Nervous?” he asked, baring his teeth in a smile.

“No,” she lied. His face was expressionless as he studied her. For the fleetest of moments, she wished she had brought Chris along. But she had to do this herself. Especially after the dinner this man and she had shared. Regret struck her hard.

He went to his desk and sat down. She felt like a schoolgirl left to fidget before a headmaster.

To hell with that. She sat down as well.

The silence lengthened as she felt herself being taken apart piece by piece. She found it hard to believe there had ever been warmth in those cold eyes.

“What game are you playing?” he finally said. His voice was diamond hard.

“What did Leigh tell you?” she asked instead.

“That you claimed to be the real Westerfield heiress. That's impossible.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Babies aren't just mislaid, Ms. Douglas.”

Ms. Douglas. Not Kira
. “It
has
happened,” she said. “There was a case in Georgia, another in California.”

“I did some quick research. A very few in many millions of births.”

“So you admit it happens?”

He shook his head. “It would have been discovered by now, just as the others were.”

“You know my mother is dying,” she said. “She needs a kidney. I wanted to give her one of mine. I underwent tests to see if we were compatible. I wasn't, but during the test I discovered I'm not her biological daughter. The doctor suggested I might be adopted, but I was born at the hospital, and her name is on my birth certificate.” She paused, then added, “I was angry, furious, disbelieving, so I know exactly how Leigh feels.”

“Why Leigh? How did you come up with Leigh?”

“I hired a private investigator. His name is Chris Burke.” She took a card from her pocket and handed it to him. “He's a licensed private investigator, a former captain of detectives with the Atlanta police department. You can check his reputation. He ran down all the babies born near the time I was born. I was critically ill … a heart defect. I was immediately taken to the prenatal unit. So the switch, accidental or planned, had to take place within a few moments of my birth. Leigh was born three minutes before me.”

His cold eyes didn't change. Not a flicker of acceptance or understanding and certainly none of the ease and warmth of last night. He simply waited for her to continue. She would bet her last dollar that a recorder was running somewhere. Silence was a great interrogator technique. She'd used it herself.

“No one else?” he asked after a silence.

“Two others. Not immediately but within an hour.”