Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (30 page)

“It’s curious you felt the need to purchase the land where Andrew Kingsley cracked up his car,” Jake commented.

“We Southerners are sentimental that way.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed on Pratt. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were trying to conceal something.”

“After five months?” Pratt’s tone sounded incredulous, his drawl even more exaggerated. “The cops have been all over that place. If there was anything to find, I’m sure they would have found it by now. Or don’t you have faith in your fellow lawmen?”

“Not the ones on your payroll,” Jake said.

Pratt laughed again, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “I see you’re still trying to connect me to Andrew Kingsley’s untimely demise. You’ve been watching too many bad movies, Jake. You’d better find yourself another job before that imagination of yours does something to your sanity.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jake returned. “I like having time on my hands. Gives me plenty of opportunity to find out all kinds of interesting things. For instance, I learned not too long ago that you own controlling interest in several of the new casinos down in Mississippi—one of the few legit businesses you’re involved in. Word has it Kingsley was in to you for nearly half a mil. That’s a lot of money, even for a Kingsley.”

“And you think, what?” Pratt questioned. “That I had him `iced’ because he reneged on his loan? You
have
been watching too many movies. I’ve always thought that practice made damned poor business sense, killing a man who owes you money. How do you ever recoup?”

“I also learned,” Jake said, “that in the last few months before he died, Andrew made a lot of runs south of the border in the Kingsley jet, not to mention a trip or two abroad. To Ireland, to be exact, and to the Middle East. Trouble spots seemed to attract him.”

“Maybe the man liked to live dangerously,” Pratt replied with a shrug. “Like you, Jake.” His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes were deadly serious.

“You think you keep a low profile, living out here in no man’s land, but the drug smuggling, the gunrunning, the money laundering, and all the other nasty little activities you’ve got your filthy hands into are no secret. My theory is this. Kingsley was in to you for a lot of money. When he couldn’t come up with the dough, you made him a deal, one he couldn’t refuse. He became your own personal courier. The Kingsleys are renowned all over the world. Their jet would be the last place the feds and nervous little customs agents would search for contraband.”

“Interesting theory.” Pratt studied the glowing tip of his cigar. “Only one thing wrong with it. Why would I get rid of such a profitable arrangement? Why would I kill Andrew Kingsley?”

“Maybe because he balked,” Jake said. “Or maybe you decided he knew too much. He’d outlived his usefulness.”

Through the smoke, Pratt’s gaze on Jake deepened. “Do you remember what I told you two years ago when you came to arrest me for murder? Play with fire and you’re going to get burned. Do you remember that, Jake?”

“I remember.”

“And here you are. A washed-
up ex-
cop living with his aging father. How does it feel to have lost everything? Your job, home, money. Respect.”

Jake met Pratt’s gaze through the smoke. “Are you saying you got me fired?”

Pratt smiled. “Iris Kingsley isn’t the only one with pull in this town. Though she is quite formidable, I’ll admit. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to cross her again. No telling what she might do if she knew you were still messing around in her dead grandson’s business. Not to mention with her dead grandson’s wife.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You know me better than that. I don’t make threats, I make promises.” Pratt touched a button beneath his desk and the door to the library swung open. A moment later, Hope and Jonas Thorpe walked back through. “We’re all finished in here,” Pratt said. “Show Jake and Mrs. Kingsley out, will you, Jonas?”

Thorpe led them down the hallway, into the foyer. “Do I get my gun back?” Jake asked.

The guard handed Thorpe the weapon. With a smooth, practiced motion, he removed the clip, then gave the gun to Jake.

“Thanks a lot,” Jake said, shoving the gun under his belt.

Thorpe opened the front door and stepped outside with them. “Your truck is just down the road a ways,” he said. “Mr. Pratt thought you might enjoy a nice walk this evening. Careful of the dogs, though.” Then he turned and disappeared back inside the house.

Hope turned to Jake. “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure. But I think we may be getting a little too close for Pratt’s comfort.”

“Close to what?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

The road wound through the woods, and the thick canopy of leaves overhead blocked the moonlight. The darkness was almost complete. In the distance, one of the dogs bayed at the moon, and Jake sensed rather than saw Hope shiver beside him. His own nerves were on edge, as well. The blinking red lights in the trees followed their progress down the road, but those weren’t the “eyes” Jake was most concerned about. Something slunk in the woods nearby.

Hoped stopped. “Listen.”

“What is it?”

“The barking,” she said. “It’s louder.”

She was right. The distant barking suddenly wasn’t so distant. It was behind them and in the woods, and gaining all the time. Jake’s heart tripped inside him. The dogs were loose.

He grabbed Hope’s hand. “Run,” he said, taking off at a sprint and pulling Hope with him.

The barking grew steadily louder. Jake could hear the sound of the dogs’ paws pounding against the road behind them and tearing through the underbrush. They seemed to be coming from every direction.

Around a bend in the road, he spotted the Blazer. Beside him, Hope gave a little sob of relief. But the relief was short-
lived. From the woods, one of the dogs lunged toward the road. Another sprang from the darkness behind them.

Jake drew his gun, knowing that without ammunition, it was next to useless. “Make a run for it,” he told Hope. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Hope dashed toward the truck. The dog nearest to Jake growled in menace, ready to attack. Jake threw his gun at the beast and had the satisfaction of hearing a solid
thunk
as metal connected with flesh. The dog howled in pain and rage, only momentarily distracted from his prey. But it bought Jake a few precious seconds. He turned and raced for the truck. Hope grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. As Jake slammed the door, one of the dogs jumped from the darkness and landed on the hood of the Blazer, his long, sharp teeth threatening even through the windshield. Another dog attacked Hope’s window, and yet another propelled his body toward Jake’s door.

“Hurry,” Hope said. “Get us out of here.”

The keys weren’t in the ignition. “Damn!” Jake exclaimed. Pratt had lured them to the truck and then trapped them here. No telling how long they would have to stay before he called off the dogs.

Jake bent and felt beneath the floor mat, surprised when his hand closed over the keys.

“Oh, God, hurry,” Hope begged. The huge Do
ber
man was snapping at her through the glass. Jake could hear a cracking sound every time the dog lunged.

It took him three tries to get the key in the ignition, an eternity as more dogs came tearing out of the darkness. Jake started the engine and floored the accelerator. The Blazer shot forward and the Doberman on the hood went sliding off with a yelp. The dogs at the side windows fell away, and Hope put her hand to her heart. “I’ve never been so frightened,” she gasped.

“Yeah, it got pretty hairy back there,” he said, sending her a sidelong glance

To his surprise, she laughed breathlessly. “I didn’t think we had a dog’s chance.”

They were both laughing in nervous relief when the Blazer rounded the last curve in the drive and they were suddenly at the gate. A closed and locked gate.

Hope glanced behind them. “They’re coming,” she said. “I think I can see them.” She turned back around. “What do we do now?”

“Good question,” Jake said.

“Can you ram it?”

“Not a good idea,” he said. “That metal’s solid. We may have to scale it instead.”

Hope stared at him in horror. “You mean get out of the truck?”

“It may be our only chance.” But just then, like magic, the gates slid open before them. “Voil;aaa,” Jake said. “I guess Pratt has a sense of humor after all.”

* * *

J
AKE DROPPED
H
OPE OFF
at her car at the Club Mystique, then followed her home. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight until she was safely behind locked doors, he told her. And Hope had to admit that after the harrowing experience the two of them had just shared, it was comforting to have Jake so nearby.

At the gate to the Kingsley property, he waited until she was safely inside and the gates had closed behind her before he drove around to the rear entrance where the servants and delivery people entered the estate. Hope pulled her own car around the circular drive in front of the mansion and parked, knowing someone would later move the vehicle to the garages, where it would be washed and refueled for the next time she wanted to take a drive.

Hope had never been comfortable having servants at her beck and call, and she hated it even more now as she watched Jake’s headlights move toward the rear of the property. Her mother was right, Hope thought, as she let herself inside the house. The sooner she moved out of the mansion, the better.

The lights on the ground floor had been lowered, with only wall sconces and an occasional lamp to chase away the gloom. Hope moved into the library, intent on pouring herself a brandy to take upstairs with her. Her nerves still weren’t what they should be, and she needed something that would brace her for the long night ahead, when shock was bound to set in.

Splashing a generous amount of liquor into a snifter, Hope lifted the glass to her lips. Only then did she see the silhouette of a man standing by the windows, in a shadow that was left untouched by the lamp she’d turned on.

She gasped and the snifter fell from her hand. The silhouette separated from the other shadows and moved toward her, tall and lean and somehow menacing in the meager light.

Or perhaps, Hope thought, her mind was still on the dogs. After all, Jeremy had never frightened her before. He was a bore, yes, and odd, to say the least, but harmless.

His gaze dropped to the spilled brandy at her feet. “Hope,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You startled me, that’s all.” He was dressed for bed in a dark blue robe over light gray pajamas. It struck Hope that she had never seen Jeremy in anything but a suit.

“You look different,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “Your hair is all messed up.”

She forced a soft laugh, running her fingers through the tangles. “Oh, that. I was driving with the top down.”

“It’s cool out. Weren’t you wearing a jacket?”

“It’s not that cool,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t go far.”

“You’ve been gone for hours.”

Hope frowned. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Jeremy?”

He looked a bit flustered. “No, it’s not that. I mean, I just happened to notice…” His voice trailed away and his gaze dropped. He seemed fixated on her jeans.

Hope’s frown deepened. She didn’t think she cared much for this new attention from Jeremy. Or had it been there all along, even when Andrew was alive, and she just hadn’t noticed?

She bent to retrieve the glass. “I’d better get something to clean up this mess,” she said, wanting to escape.

“Leave it,” Jeremy said carelessly. “Someone will take care of it in the morning.”

“The stain will have set by then. I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen. No sense you waiting up, though,” she added as she turned to leave.

“Hope?”

She paused and glanced back at him.

“I thought I saw other headlights down by the gate just now. They went around back.”

She lifted a brow. “So?”

“So I wondered if you’d been with Jake McClain tonight.”

“Why would you wonder that?” Hope asked, in what she hoped was an innocent tone.

Jeremy’s gaze deepened on her. “You used to be engaged to him.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You were in love with him. I used to see you with him at his father’s cottage.”

Oh, no, Hope thought. Had Jeremy been spying on them back then? The notion sent a wave of heat rushing through her. The first time she and Jake had made love was at his father’s cottage, in Jake’s old bedroom, one afternoon while his father had been out. They’d both had apartments back then, but with roommates. Privacy had been hard to come by, so when they’d found themselves alone in the cottage that afternoon, temptation had prevailed.

They’d left the bedroom window open, and the air had been filled with the scent of flowers from the gardens. Hope had thought it all so very romantic, but now she remembered something else. A tree with wide limbs grew near Jake’s window, and as she and Jake had lain naked in his bed, Hope had thought for one split second that she’d seen something moving in those branches. A flash of pale skin…

Jeremy had been a grown man even then. The notion of his deliberately watching her and Jake made Hope feel nauseous. She’d always felt a little sorry for Jeremy, but now she suspected there was more to him than met the eye. She wondered if his quiet demeanor was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade to mask what her mother would call a sly and crafty nature.

“I don’t care to discuss my relationship with Jake,” she said coolly.

“No, of course.” But he looked a little hurt by her rebuff. Or was that anger glinting in his gray eyes?

“Well, good night,” Hope forced herself to say politely. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes,” Jeremy replied, with a curious little smile. “I’m sure you will.”

Late Saturday afternoon, Hope was in her suite at the mansion, getting ready for Brant Colter’s wedding, when Iris knocked on the door. She looked surprised, and none too pleased, to see Hope dressed to go out.