Killing Bliss (30 page)

"Now I'd take that to mean she thinks they're capable of killing at least," Stan said.

"We're all capable of killing, Stan, if we're pushed far enough. You've been around long enough to know that capability and culpability don't share DNA. The thing is, she'll do anything to protect them from the law and from themselves, which right now means stopping them from killing Bliss. Those three went through hell together. She won't forget that."

Stan looked at Susan. "Now
he's
got a point."

She glared at him, got up, and walked to the window overlooking the lake, leaving her back to them.

Stan's gaze followed her, then swung back to Cade. "What do you propose?"

"That we let as much of Addy's plan play out as possible. She's convinced she can talk her friends down. Whether she can or can't, the smart thing is to sit tight until everyone is here," he said. "Vanelleto is slated to arrive first, then Beauty and Bliss—"

"Beauty and Bliss." Susan muttered from the window. "Fancy names for a prostitute and a criminal."

Cade ignored her, clung to the edges of his patience. "When Vanelleto arrives"—he took a breath—"I let Addy do her thing, talk to him." He paused, hating what was to come. "Then, regardless of the results of that conversation and before the others arrive, I tell her the truth, about you, about me, and why we're here." He stopped, his mind already reacting to the hurt and anger he'd see in her eyes. "And we confront Vanelleto, try to get some answers about Belle Bliss's murder and about Josh."

"And if we don't get the answers we want? If he refuses to cooperate?" Susan asked.

"We take him in."

"So far, so good," Stan said, nodding. "And Bliss, what about him?"

"We keep Bliss away from Vanelleto for the duration. Then we make sure he gets a one-way ticket back to where he belongs, the Smithfield prison, for parole violation." None of which would be easy. "The way I see it, our best chance of getting solid information on Josh rests with Gus or Beauty."

Cade walked to where Susan still stood by the window and rested his hands on her shoulders. "But you've got to be prepared, Susan. What we're told or not told might not be what you want to hear. If Josh is dead and either Vanelleto, Beauty, or"—God forbid.—"Addy had anything to do with it, the chances any of them come clean is nonexistent. You might be right back where you started."

Susan turned to look up at him, her jaw set with determination. "Josh is alive, Cade. I'm closer to him now than I've ever been. I can feel it."

Cade nodded, kissed her forehead. "Okay, we'll hold that thought."

"And Belle Bliss's murder? What about that?" Stan said. "We're pretty busy ignoring the fact that those kids—and that includes Addilene and Beauty—are wanted for murder." He leaned forward in the chair and met Cade's gaze straight on. "We can't let that go, Harding"—he paused, looked momentarily reluctant to go on—"no matter what your feelings are for that pretty little girl up there." He gestured with his head in the general direction of the office.

Cade went still; Brenton's words hit his dilemma dead on. Addy's name on an outstanding murder warrant and his on a criminology degree did not make for a bed of roses, ethically speaking. Add in the feelings he had for her—not yet defined, but strong enough to rattle his normally logical mind—and a man had serious trouble on his hands. But no real choice.

Stan didn't take his eyes off him, and Susan, half-sitting on the windowsill, looked at him in surprise. When he didn't immediately answer, she asked, "Is that true, Cade? You care for the girl?"

"Yes," he said, his curt answer more of an admission than he'd yet fully processed for himself. He rubbed the tension building in his neck. "But regardless of my feelings, Stan's right. We can't ignore the fact that Addy and the others are wanted by the police."

"But if we bring the police in too soon..." Susan chewed her lower lip. "God, this is complicated."

"It needn't be, if we go slowly." Ever since Susan drummed him into this action, Cade had worked to separate Josh's disappearance from Belle's murder, not wanting to get more involved than he already was. Stupid thinking then, even stupider now.

Meeting Addy changed everything. But if they were to have a chance for more, she had to stop running and face those charges. And he'd have to make sure she did.

"And by 'go slowly' you mean what?" Susan asked.

Stan rose to tower over him. "What I think he means, my love, is that we play out our hand, make sure nobody kills our boy Bliss, and take it from there."

"That's about it." With Bliss dead, his damning eyewitness statement, now in the files of the Seattle PD, might as well be etched on a stone tablet.

Stan nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets. "If we believe your Addy—"

"She's not my anything yet, Brenton." Never would be if this idea of his didn't pan out. Ethics or no, turning a woman over to the cops wasn't the most seductive trick in the book, which was why Cade intended she be well in the clear before the boys in blue set foot in the door. Nothing less. And if he had things figured right, Bliss was the one to do it.

"Maybe not, but I'm guessing you'd like her to be, which puts a lot at stake. You know..." Stan shot Cade a wily glance, went on. "If we believe her, that Gus and Beauty were downstairs when Belle Bliss met up with those bullets, there's a chance Frank isn't the only one who saw something. We get everyone together..." He shrugged. "We could have ourselves some real interesting dialogue."

Cade nodded. "We'll have a couple of hours at most. After that?" He lifted a hand. "It's game over."

* * *

The next morning, a tall, dark-haired man walked out the sliding airport doors into a light rain and half the heat of the Miami he'd left that afternoon.

Seattle, just as he remembered it, green, misty, and cool.

He took a couple of deep breaths, eased the tension from his neck and shoulders, and glanced around the crowded arrivals' walkway, keeping his expression casual.

Airports, with their heightened security, weren't his favorite places these days, especially when he walked through them under a false name. But considering his current name and occupation were well past the ten-year mark, he felt reasonably safe taking the chance. From what the Wart told him, he sure as hell didn't have time for a leisurely cross-country drive.

His scanning eyes caught an interested look from a security guard having a smoke near the limo stand. The look didn't come close to scrutiny, only the usual double-take at first sight of his scar. He was careful not to look away first, nodding politely before he moved along the lineup of cabs waiting for passengers along the inside arrivals lane. He tossed his duffel onto the seat of the first one available, got in and draped his arm over the seat back.

"Where to?" the cabby asked, pushing a button to start the meter.

"You tell me. What's a good hotel in Seattle these days? It's been a while since I was here." He kept his tone even, cab-passenger friendly. Forgettable.

The cabby turned, scanned his well-worn leather jacket and jeans. "You a five-star man?"

"Hardly."

"The Hotel Philip then. Old, but the prices are good right now because of the renovations."

"Sounds good."

Gus Vanelleto, aka August Hammond, settled back in the cab, stared out the window, and went over his plan. First up, he needed a gun, and he needed it ASAP, which meant finding a local supplier. You had to have a death wish to carry a gun on a plane these days, and while Gus had death on his mind, it wasn't his own.

Contrary to popular opinion, a guy, an unconnected guy, didn't walk down the nearest seedy alley and buy himself an unregistered handgun unless he wanted to risk buying from an undercover cop. Not that he was worried. If he knew how to do anything it was be cautious—and he had a reference. Gus didn't do alleys, not anymore.

When he was set up, he'd give the Wart a call, have her get in touch with Beauty—make sure she didn't get to Star Lake before he did. No way was he letting that piece of shit have the advantage of getting there first. No, he'd be waiting for Bliss, that was a given.

Then he'd do what he'd come here to do.

Then he was gone.

He looked out the window, only dimly aware of the sights and sounds of Seattle's fifteen years' worth of growth and change—and the place where his life had blown apart in the first place. He was all kinds of fool, coming back, risking everything he'd built over the past ten years for a girl he hadn't breathed in, talked to, or touched since he was seventeen years old. Hadn't done much touching back then either, if his memories sat right. He rubbed his mouth to hide a rare smile, at once rueful and ironic. Beauty never made it easy.

So far in his life, she was the only woman who hadn't—not that he aimed high in the female department. No point.

Addy said she called herself Fallon now. Fallon West. Maybe so, but she'd always be Beauty to him.

He rested his head back, looked at the cab's scruffy roof liner. He closed his eyes and brought back the scent of her, the girl/woman who was always taking those lemony scented baths—whenever a bath was available.

She'd taken one that day...

The cabby hit the brakes, mumbled, "Asshole."

The shock pulled him from his thoughts. Thoughts he didn't have time for. He was here to do a job and get out. Back to his life. He sure as hell wasn't here to waste his time on a woman, any woman. Even Beauty. He'd been alone this long and he intended to keep it that way.

It was safer that way. For one thing, the less either Beauty or Wart knew about what happened to the boy, the better off they were. Being wanted for Belle's murder was enough. They didn't need to know the rest.

Gus's plan was simple—do what he had to do to ensure Bliss didn't trouble any of them ever again.

When that was done, it was back to Miami.

Chapter 20

"You've been avoiding me," Cade said from the office doorway. He'd left her to it for most of the day, but like it or not, they had some talking to do—some planning.

Addy looked at him from under the hand she put over her eyes to block out the setting sun streaming through the windows behind him. When he was close enough to provide shade, she lowered her hand, and started to shuffle papers. He would have smiled—if it were a time for smiles—watching her put one unread sheet on top of the other.

"I've got my reasons."

Cade's first thought was that she'd found out about Stan and Susan; he tensed. "Which are?" He walked around the office counter to stand face-to-face with the woman he'd made love to last night, and who'd been treating him as a stranger or, worse yet, a paying guest ever since.

She pursed her lips and her frown deepened. "I'm, uh, a little embarrassed is all. I'll get over it."

Cade's tension evaporated. This he could handle. He took a step closer, clasped her shoulders, and dipped his head to look into her eyes. "I don't want you to 'get over it.'" He lifted her chin. "And there's nothing to be 'embarrassed' about. What we did, what we had, was flat-out incredible." He refused to let her embarrassment play, but knew he'd be powerless against the ton or two of disappointment and regrets she'd have when she discovered the reason he'd come to Star Lake in the first place.

The tiniest of smiles turned up her uncolored lips. "Yeah, it was, but"—she pulled away and put a couple of feet of distance between them—"I don't want to think about that... stuff right now. What with everything happening or about to happen." Misery and confusion replaced the final trace of her reluctant smile. "And I sure as heck don't want to talk about us having sex. It feels too weird."

"Okay, we won't talk about it," he said, not because he wanted to avoid the subject, but because the timing was off. Way off. But he added, "Even if I haven't stopped thinking about 'that stuff all day."

After a long pause, she said in a whisper. "Me, either."

He touched her madcap of hair. "But if it makes you feel any better, I didn't come here to make you uncomfortable, I came to ask if you know any more about your friends' ETA. But by the looks of that sober face of yours, you don't."

She folded her arms, looked aside. "I haven't heard from either of them, not Beauty, who was born with a phone in her ear and a finger on send, or Gus. I'm afraid something's gone wrong. That maybe Bliss..." Whatever she wanted to say wouldn't come out, so she resorted to chewing on her lower lip.