In Too Deep (5 page)

“Ah.” Things were beyond her reach, if he understood the problem. How could he leave without helping her out, especially since she had made hot chocolate for him? “Okay. I guess I can have cereal before I go.” He opened the cupboard and found a single box of cereal on the top shelf.
Cocoa Puffs. He had been hoping for cornflakes or something similar.

She beamed as he poured cereal into two bowls and got out the milk. Within no time they were munching on cereal as Annmarie continued talking about babies. This time, thankfully, the subject was the cat that lived in Rosie's greenhouse.

“Where's my punkin'?” Lily called from the hallway.

Annmarie giggled as dread settled into the pit of Quinn's stomach. He should have left. He shouldn't be sitting here waiting for Lily, wanting to see her, wanting, just wanting, all the things he could never have.

Smiling, she came through the doorway an instant later, wrapped in that same thick robe she'd had on when she'd visited during the night. Until now, he hadn't known it was lavender. The smile remained, but something changed in her eyes when her gaze lit on him. Was she glad to see him or wishing he'd left already?

“I'm having breakfast,” Annmarie returned.

“Cocoa Puffs,” Lily murmured, taking in the contents of the bowl. “Your Saturday treat on—”

“It's not Saturday?” the child asked.

Lily tousled her hair. “You know it's not.” She dipped a finger in her daughter's hot chocolate, then licked off the gooey mess of the marshmallow before turning to Quinn. “I never would have figured you for a hot-chocolate kind of guy.”

He shrugged, images of licking her fingers destroying any hope he had of ignoring the flare of attraction between them. “When in Rome…you know.”

Lily moved away from him, wanting to put her arms around him and discovering that she had used up all her courage a couple of hours ago. Having him watch her with that troubled expression made her opt for pouring a cup of coffee. After adding cream and sugar to it, she sat next to him. “How's your head?”

“Better.” He touched the bandage at his hairline. Without meeting her eyes he added, “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I'm done,” Annmarie announced. “Can I give Sweetie Pie my milk now?”

Lily looked at her daughter, then the bowl of cereal-flavored milk she was holding up. “You may. Time to go get dressed, sweetie.”

Annmarie climbed down from her chair, set the bowl of milk on the floor near the window, then lifted the cat from the windowsill and set her in front of the bowl. When Annmarie skipped away, Lily glanced back at Quinn, giving in to her need and resting her hand over the top of his.

“Thanks to you,” she said, “I had the best sleep I've had in weeks.”

He grasped her fingers for an instant before letting them go, his gaze far too somber when he met hers.

She didn't need the Ph.D. after her name to recognize the man was uncomfortable in the extreme. Her sisters had both lamented about awkward morning-afters. Personally, she had never experienced one. Though she had fallen asleep in the man's arms, this morning didn't count as a morning after, either.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “You?”

She caught his gaze. “Wishing—” She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Wishing I'd told you I wanted to make love. Wishing I were braver.”

Something in his eyes fractured and his jaw clenched. “I think you're plenty brave. But the truth is, you don't know anything about me, and I didn't expect…didn't have any way to protect you.”

“From what?”

“Are you crazy? From me. From a possible pregnancy.” He jumped to his feet and glared at her. “Or… For all you know, I could have HIV or—”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Or anything else?”

“No. But that's not the point, damn it.”

She rose to her feet and took a step toward him. “Then what is?” When he glanced blankly at her, she added, “The point.”

“I'm not one of those strays you're known for picking up.”

That baffling hurt was back in his eyes. “It never occurred to me that you were.” She took another step toward him.

He retreated a step. “Why in hell—”

“Did I climb into bed with you?” She shrugged, then told him the truth. “I've lived my whole life being the good girl, doing what was expected of me.” She took another step toward him and he backed up one. “That was the old me.” She closed the space between them until she could feel the heat from his body though they weren't touching. “An aneurism in my husband's brain burst while he was having lunch. Two days later he died.”

“I'm sorry,” Quinn murmured.

She met his gaze. “So am I. But you know what that taught me? Finally? That nothing is sure. That today is all there is. That you'd better grab what you want when you have the chance because tomorrow it could be all gone.” She touched one of the buttons of his shirt with her finger, not quite sure enough of herself to put her arms around him, but aching for him to give her some clue that she'd be welcome if she took that final tiny…huge…step into his arms.

Pretending to be far more courageous than she really was, she looked up and found him watching her with the eyes of a man being tortured. “So, that's my regret. That I once again took time to think, instead of taking what I wanted. I'm so sick of being a coward.”

“That's not true,” he said quietly. He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes deeply searching hers. They held the colors of the earth and ocean and stormy sky, framed with lashes any woman would envy. “Not making love was for
the best,” he finally said, glancing up when something behind Lily caught his attention.

She turned around and found Rosie at the doorway and headed for the cupboard where the crackers were kept.

“Good morning,” Lily said.

“Morning,” Rosie returned, reaching into the cupboard. She pulled down a package of soda crackers, then took a bite of one, giving them an apologetic smile. “Don't mind me.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at Lily and managed to slip from between her and the counter. “I've got to go.”

“Cocoa Puffs isn't much of a breakfast,” Lily said. “Let me make you something.”

“I really do need to…” His gaze caught hers once again.

“Go?” Rosie supplied, looking from him to Lily.

He nodded, pulling keys out of the pocket of his jeans.

“If you can give me about fifteen minutes, I can get dressed and go with you,” Lily said.

“I, uh, need to check with Hilda before going to work.”

“Fine. I thought you might.”

A flush crawled up his cheeks, and Lily realized he was trying to find a tactful way to leave without her. “I think I'd like to go home before going to work.”

“I can take you to work, Lily,” Rosie said, waving one of the crackers. “Another half dozen of these and I'll be fine.”

A look of pure relief passed over Quinn's face. “There. A solution. You have a ride to work.” He headed for the door. “See you later.”

“Okay.” Lily watched him leave, one more regret heaping on all the others. She had ignored the possibility that he might not want her the way she wanted him.

“You slept with him, didn't you?” Rosie accused.

 

The call came into the payphone near the marina exactly when the man was expecting it—dreading it.

“Is it done?” asked the raspy voice.

“Accidents are dicey things,” he said, watching a float
plane land beyond the line of boats. “Not predictable like more traditional methods. This will be a helluva lot easier with the direct approach.” Stealing the keys out of a desk—that had been easy. Pushing a car down a slope at exactly the right time to kill somebody—that was a gamble in anybody's book.

“No,” was the immediate answer. “So you're telling me that the status quo hasn't changed.”

“She's not dead, if that's what you mean,” he answered, tired of the stupid game of refusing to name what he'd been hired to do. The chances of anyone listening to a conversation made to a pay phone from a pay phone were slim and none. “You want an accident, that's going to take time.”

“And expenses on our clock. Mr. Lawrence expects results from you. I expect to read in the paper that a terrible accident has had tragic results. The sooner, the better.”

“And like I said, accidents aren't that easy.”

“Let me put this another way, so you'll understand perfectly. Mr. Lawrence is an engineer, did you know that?”

“Get to the point.” So he was an engineer. So what?

“He always ensures there are backup systems and fail safes.”

Which explains why he's in prison,
he nearly retorted.

“If a fail safe is required for this situation,” the voice continued, “you won't be needing a single dime of the payment that was agreed to. Now, then. Since you seem to be unable or unwilling to think on your own, you will find a way to get close to her, and you will see to it that she's involved in a very tragic, life-ending accident.”

The line went dead.

He stared across the water. A fail safe? A chill slithered down his spine. He got it. Somebody would kill him if he didn't kill Lily Jensen Reditch. So far, he hadn't been able to get close enough, which was only one of the problems with “accidents.”

As for thinking on his own, he already had an employment application in to go to work at the research center. He had
enough of a chemistry background to create fire out of water, to even blow up a building. Plus, he knew for a fact he had the party-hearty merchandise a couple of the students wanted—they'd already made a buy from him. Trade drugs for a favor or two—a plan that was already in the works. Think on his own. What the hell did the old guy on the other end of the phone even know?

 

As the opening movement of Tchaikovsky's Seventh Symphony swelled from the small CD player on the counter, Max Jamison, aka Jones, sat at the kitchen table waiting for a collect call. Depending on the length of the lineup to use the phone at the prison, the call could come in the next second or the next three to four hours. His gaze swept over the austere apartment he'd rented after arriving here a week after the double wedding of Dahlia Jensen to Jack Trahern, and Rosie Jensen to Ian Stearne. That's a ceremony he would have liked to have seen, though he wouldn't have been welcome.

The last time he had seen Dahlia, she'd believed he would kill her. She had shot him instead. Luckily for him, hospital prison wards were easier to escape from than prison cells. And now, unlikely as it seemed, here he was—seeking his revenge. Franklin Lawrence was going to pay for blackmailing him into kidnapping Lily's sister.

Oh, he had done it, but he'd hated everything about it. After learning that Franklin Lawrence had since issued a contract on Lily, he had headed here.

A pro bono job—and his last. God willing, his sister would never learn that he had spent the last twenty-plus years as a paid assassin. He liked thinking how retirement would be, being with her without the lies about what he did or where he had gone. Enjoying his favorite music on his state-of-the-art system over coffee that had been ground seconds before brewing. Spending time with his niece and nephew.

The few dishes from breakfast had been washed and put away. The double bed that should have been hauled off to
the dump ten years ago was made. The floor was swept, the battered furniture dusted. So, waiting was all he could do, just as he had done for much of his adult life.

He suspected that Lily believed Franklin Lawrence wouldn't still be interested in her now that the trial was over. Max knew better. Men like that—men like him—didn't let go. Since Lawrence was looking at a life sentence of hard time if his appeal failed, Lily still wasn't safe. She might be with her family using her married name instead of her maiden name—but she wasn't safe. Not yet.

Max's cell phone rang thirty-seven minutes later.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Interesting proposition,” came a gravelly voice on the other end of the line, “assuming you're J.M.”

“I am.”

“So how does this work?” the man asked.

Max wished for the more secure telephone line he had at his home. “If you agree to the job, I'll deposit fifty Gs wherever you want. After it's done, I'll deposit another fifty.”

“One condition,” the man said. “Can you make it look legit so my wife and my kid—”

“Consider it done,” Max said. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. He'd carefully looked for the right man. A lifer who could be motivated to do a job that could only be accomplished by an inmate on the inside. Someone with nothing to lose.

“You've got a deal.”

“Okay,” Max said. He ended the call. Franklin Lawrence didn't know it yet, but he would never blackmail anyone again. His life sentence had been changed to a death sentence.

“Y
ou did, didn't you?” Rosie repeated.

Lily met her sister's gaze, the last of her euphoria crashing like a meteor. First Quinn, now her sister. As teenagers she and Rosie had shared everything, especially those exciting firsts—first dates, first kisses, first loves. Disapproval… Lily hadn't expected that. Disappointment washed through her. If she couldn't share her confusing attraction to Quinn Morrison with her sister, she was even more alone than she had imagined.

She looked away, feeling guilty that she didn't feel guilty, hating that she had nothing to feel guilty about. Despite Quinn's reaction this morning, she didn't regret the impulse that had made her crawl into bed with him.

“You're too damn trusting, Lily,” Rosie said, breaking the silence. “Good grief, he's your boss. You don't even know the guy. And you have a hickey. Explain that.”

Lily felt her face heat and for an instant she was swamped with the memory of him dragging kisses across her neck. She
raised her collar higher and tightened the belt of her robe. “There's nothing to explain.”

“So you didn't sleep with him?”

“Technically, all I did was sleep.” She'd been so mortified when her fragile courage had deserted her the instant Quinn had asked if she was sure. Leave it to the man to be a gentleman who wouldn't press to continue what she had started. And then he'd held her, just held her, as she had so badly needed. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, but his warm arms around her had been a healing balm. This morning she felt more like herself than she had in a long while.

“Oh, Lily. You expect me to believe that? C'mon.” Rosie's mouth fell open and she laughed. “This is so not you. You're the cautious one who takes forever to make a decision, even if you do always wander around with those rose-tinted glasses of yours.”

Lily had given those up a long time ago, something that her family and friends had yet to realize. And how could they? She was content to let them believe she was still an optimist because that meant things were normal. At least on the surface.

This morning, though, she couldn't stand that her sister—her best friend—didn't believe her. “You haven't been with me enough over the last several years to know what I'm like.”

“You've done it again. Taken in another stray.”

“Quinn is no stray.” Lily straightened and glared at her sister, hating that he had characterized himself the same way.

“What were you thinking?” Rosie's question was an echo of their father when one of them had done something stupid.

Now, as then, Lily's first reaction was that she didn't know. Thinking? She hadn't been, not even close. She met her sister's gaze. “Did you know that since John died, nobody touches me?” Lily looked away, raking a hand through her hair. “Oh, there's the occasional hug, but not held…when you're scared or lonely or hurting or, most of all, for the simple pleasure of it. God, Rosie, can't you un
derstand that?” Lily sat at the table and reached for her coffee mug. “Just being in his arms—do you have any idea how wonderful that was?”

“You're lonely.”

“I'm not.” Lily had the awful feeling her sister was right, but darn if she was going to admit it to her. Another sliver of regret crept through her.

“Like you said, you wanted to be held. And with guys, sex is usually the price that comes with that.” Rosie sat next to her. “I understand what it's like to be lonely. But, let's face it, you're not exactly a fountain of experience with men. There wasn't anybody before John, and since you're new to all this, you don't have a clue about how uncaring men can be.”

“Quinn wasn't—isn't like that.”

Rosie shook her head. “Says you. It's worth repeating. You just met him.”

“He's a good man.”

“That's what you always say.” Rosie took another bite of her cracker. “Remember Pete Stone? And how mad Dad was when he got arrested?”

“We were kids then,” Lily said. “That was a long time ago.”

“You've always been too trusting.”

“It sure beats assuming the worst,” she responded, filled with an unaccustomed need to defend herself even as she kept wondering why Rosie was on such a tangent.

“I can't believe you
did it
—”

“Nothing happened.”

“—with Annmarie in the next room. What if she had come in?”

“Ah, finally. This is really about Annmarie. Like I don't have good sense enough to lock the door.” Surprisingly hurt, Lily looked at her sister. Maybe hormones were to blame, Lily decided, for her sister being more wired than usual.

Rosie shook her head. “No, it's about—”

“I would never do anything to hurt Annmarie.”

“You need to be more careful. You heard him last night at dinner. He practically admitted that he's involved in something that caused yesterday's little ‘accident.'”

“And your point is?”

“What do you really know about the guy? For all you know he could be a total lowlife.”

Lily surged to her feet. “I don't want to listen to this.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Rosie said. “Run away. Just like you've been doing for a while.”

“Just because I decided to move doesn't mean I'm running away.”

Rosie shrugged. “I would have after witnessing a cold-blooded execution. Lily, you witnessed a crime,” Rosie said. “A murder. And not just any murder, but a cold-blooded execution.”

“That was a random event completely out of my control. It's time to move on.” This was the same old pep talk she gave herself daily. Sooner or later it would sink in.

“Sure. That's why you moved home so soon after—”

“I'd been thinking about that for a while. Since John died, in fact.”

“So you could feel safe again,” Rosie continued, ignoring her. “I do know what that feels like, remember?”

“You make it nearly impossible to forget. I may be cautious, but I can't live my life looking for the boogeyman behind every tree. I won't. I don't want my daughter thinking that way, either.”

“If you think I'm such a bad influence on
your
daughter, maybe you should move out.”

The words hung there between them, and Lily felt the blood drain out of her face.

Her throat clogged and her eyes burned. She stared at Rosie for a long moment before fleeing toward the hallway before she said something she was sure to regret.

Pregnancy-induced hormones or not, Rosie had gone too far. In her secret heart of hearts Lily had always worried that
Rosie would one day regret giving up Annmarie. Annmarie…Lily's daughter by adoption, Rosie's by birth.

Lily checked on Annmarie, who was singing as she dressed and played with dolls that sat on the bed next to Sweetie Pie. Then Lily moved on to her own room, leaning against the door after she closed it behind her.

Lily had tried to get pregnant for years, and it had become apparent she would never have a child of her own. Rosie, with a pregnancy that was the result of a rape, had been confronted with the awful choice of whether to carry the baby to term. At the time, the perfect answer had seemed so apparent. Lily and John would adopt Rosie's baby and everything would be perfect.

Every day of her life, Lily was thankful for the gift and did her best to live up to her sister's trust. Still…she worried that one day Rosie would regret the choice they had made all those years ago and would want back the daughter she had given up.

Lily was all too tempted to fling herself across the bed and cry her eyes out. Instead she did the sensible thing—stripped the bed, her father's voice echoing through her.
All crying will get you is wet.
Still, the tears came. She buried her head in the sheets held against her chest, smelling Quinn and wanting back that sense of certainty she'd had when she'd slipped into his arms.

No regrets. Who had she been kidding? She had too many to count. Briskly, she made up the bed. Before climbing into the shower, she called Hilda's mother, Mama Sarah, and made arrangements for her to watch Annmarie for the day.

A half hour later Lily and Annmarie were ready to go. Rosie had disappeared into her bedroom. Lily suspected she was still fighting her daily bout with morning sickness. Ian had was nowhere to be found.

“Kiddo, we're going to walk to the village,” Lily told Annmarie.

“Okay,” Annmarie said. “But it will probably rain.”

Lily chuckled. Her daughter had been making that pro
nouncement more than daily, though she supposed that, compared to California, there
was
a lot of rain. “Which is why we have rain jackets and umbrellas.”

They went off the porch and around the totem pole whose stylized figures faced the water, then headed across the yard for the graveled road that led to the village. Thankfully, Annmarie didn't question why they were walking instead of driving, and she had a dozen observations about everything around them by the time they were a hundred yards beyond the gate.

They had passed the turnoff for Rosie's closest neighbor, the Ericksens, when Lily heard the rumble of a motor. A second later Mike Ericksen came into view riding an ATV. It looked brand-new, shiny chrome and blue paint gleaming in the sunlight. When he pulled even with them, he came to a stop.

“And how are you lovely ladies this morning?” he asked, lifting off his hat and brushing a hand through his white hair. “Looks like you could use a ride.”

“We could,” Lily said, eyeing the oversize seat. The vehicle had more than enough room to carry them both.

Lily lifted her daughter onto the seat behind Mike. “Is this a new toy?”

He laughed and patted the bright blue body. “Yep. Gotta get her broken in before Katrina carts us off to Seattle again. She's set on leaving before the end of the month.”

“That doesn't leave you much time since that's only a few days away.” Lily settled onto the broad seat behind her daughter, and Mike put the vehicle into gear.

“Never figured that we'd be making so many trips back and forth,” he said over the roar of the engine, “but my wife seems to think the grandbabies can't arrive without her. So I'm on a quest for a house-sitter. Don't like leaving it empty with winter coming on.”

Talking became impossible as they zoomed along the narrow road that led to the village, which gave Lily time to think. She needed a place to stay until the construction on
her house was completed. Mike had the perfect answer. After he inquired where they wanted to be dropped off, he came to a stop in front of the clinic.

“How long do you and Katrina plan to be gone?” Lily asked as she climbed off the ATV and lifted Annmarie down.

“Probably a good part of the winter—if I can find someone to stay that long. Know of anyone?”

She swallowed, her sister's voice once again echoing through her head. “Me. And Annmarie.” She smiled, offering part of her reason to be somewhere other than under Rosie's roof. “Ian and Rosie are still newlyweds. They've been great, but if I had the chance to provide them with a little privacy…you know.”

“I can imagine.” Mike laughed. “Well, that would be great. I'll tell the wife. I didn't want to leave until we had someone lined up, so you've made this real easy.” He extended his hand.

Lily nodded, both relieved and feeling as though she was betraying her sister. “Great.”

She settled Annmarie in with Mama Sarah, who lived with Hilda behind the clinic, then walked up the hill to the research station. Quinn's SUV was parked in front of the building and she gave it a long second glance—it really did look a lot like her car. She took a deep breath and went through the door.

“Good morning, Dr. Lily,” Max said as she came into the office. “You're in bright and early.”

“It's not that early.” She set her tote bag on the floor next to her desk and picked up her coffee mug. “Anything exciting going on this morning?”

Max nodded toward the double doors leading to the lab. “He's interviewing a guy who had breakfast with us at the Tin Cup—says he's desperate for a job. One of the grad students arrived last night, and he's back there with Quinn, too.”

The double doors swung open and Quinn came through, accompanied by two young men who couldn't have been
more different. One looked as if he'd walked off the streets of a big city, complete with pierced ears and gelled hair. The other had the Alaskan outdoor look, including scrawny beard and ponytail.

When Quinn's gaze lit on Lily, he said, “Great, you're here.” He nodded toward his companions. “Meet Dr. Lily Reditch. She's the senior staff in charge of research. Any requests she makes of you carry the same weight as any I make of you.”

Senior staff in charge of research, Lily silently echoed. Yesterday she had been a research assistant.

“Patrick Riggs,” Quinn added, nodding toward the bearded young man. “He's one of the grad students who'll be with us this fall.” After Lily shook hands, Quinn introduced the other. “And this is Will Baker. He's going to be a lab helper.”

What in the world was going on? she wondered as she made the perfunctory greeting. In the communication she'd had with Quinn prior to yesterday, sparse as it was, he had never said a word about hiring anyone else. The graduate students were expected, but not other help. Lily had hired lab helpers before, but only after the research got so busy that the students couldn't maintain the housekeeping activities.

“I have some things to discuss with you,” she said to Quinn, “when you have some time.”

He was staring at her neck. A muscle tightened in his jaw and his eyes were filled with regret when he met hers. Feeling unbearably exposed, she straightened her collar to hide the mark he had left on her.

He colored, cleared his throat, then muttered, “Sure. This afternoon. Catch me then.”