My Everything (17 page)

They were having a baby together, starting a family. How could she have lied to him like this? How could she have kept something so significant from him? She should have shared this with him. He would have helped. He would have done anything in his power to help her family.

My God, Grace had nailed it when she’d said it was someone from Julie’s past, someone who loved her. Roger had lost his sister, so he took Ben’s. Of course he’d called Grace a whore and asked if she was the reason Julie was dead.

“You okay, Ben?”

Ben fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “We have to find Angel before he kills her. This is retribution, Tom, Angel for Julie. That’s what this is about. If he can’t kill me, he’ll kill Angel.”

Grace opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. She had discarded her torn dress and donned the terry cloth robe the hotel provided. All eyes turned in her direction. The blush on her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

“What can I do to help?”

Ben gave her a look that he hoped seared her from head to toe before he reached out a hand. He pulled her to his side.

“Stay here. I don’t want you at risk.” He was afraid it sounded too much like an order so he clarified his statement. “You’ll be safe. I can’t worry about both you and Angel.”

“Hello, Grace,” said Tom, his voice dry. “It’s been a long time.”

Grace turned toward him. “I’m surprised you remember me, Tom.”

“I remember you very well.”

Ben motioned to one of the detectives. “Can you please escort Mrs. Adams to her room so she can collect some clothes? And don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Mrs. Adams?” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” answered Grace with a raised eyebrow of her own as she followed the detective from the room. “Mrs. Adams.”

“So tell me,” said Tom, “You and Mrs. Adams are? And she fits into this how?”

“The subject of Grace is not open for discussion, and she fits into this by accident,” answered Ben. “Right now, I need to speak with Julie’s parents.”

He punched in the number, but instead of dialing he merely stared at his phone.

“You gonna call or just look?” asked Tom.

“They lied too,” replied Ben, lifting his head, meeting Tom’s eyes. “How do I know they’ll tell me the truth now?” He paused for a moment. “How quickly can we get the jet ready and file a flight plan?”

“Quick,” answered Tom, pulling out his own cell. “Where are we going?”

“Up north, to the Napa County airport, it’s only twenty minutes from there to Sonoma. That’s where Julie’s parents live now.”

Tom already had the phone to his ear. “I’ll have the Napa County Sheriff’s Department standing by.”

Ben, Tom and
a detective from the LAPD boarded the Aris jet. Ben had barely slept in three days. As soon as they were aboard, he plopped down in a chair, closed his eyes, and let himself drift. Unfortunately the minute he did so, he saw Julie’s face.

Ben was reeling from the knowledge that the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d married, who had carried his child, had misled him. No, she hadn’t misled him. She’d flat-out lied to him.

Ben used his clenched fist to try to rub away the ache in his chest. It hurt to know Julie hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him about her brother’s illness. He didn’t blame her for feeling protective. If Angel was mentally ill, Ben knew he’d do everything in his power to spare her embarrassment and humiliation. He’d move heaven and earth to protect her and provide her with the best medical help available.

But he wouldn’t have lied to his wife. Not about something like that.

For Christ’s sake, her brother had tried to beat their parents to death in their own bed!

Julie had to have known what he was capable of, how dangerous he could be.

He wondered if she hadn’t told him because she’d been afraid she might become ill. Or worse, what if their child had become ill? Ben hated to admit it, but Julie must have been aware of the possibility of a genetic link. That made her deception even harder to swallow.

Ben wondered if his own actions had contributed to her deception. Perhaps he was equally guilty. He’d lied to Julie by withholding information from her.

He tried hard to rationalize his silence. His were lies of omission, and as far as he was concerned they’d been necessary for Julie’s safety. Her very life had depended upon the fact that he kept his work separate, kept certain information from her. He hadn’t dared to make her a target, at least any more of a target than she became by marrying him.

But he’d broken his own rule. He’d let her accompany him to Jakarta, and she became a target anyway.

Ben twisted in the chair. He had always been a quiet man. It was one of the things that made him good at his job. He kept his own counsel, knew when to share information and when to keep his mouth shut. Maybe his reticence had bothered Julie more than she’d let on.

Apparently she hadn’t trusted him to understand about her brother. Was it because he hadn’t confided in her about his clients and his assignments?

She’d known the score when she’d married him. He’d at least been honest about that, about the nature of his work. He’d told her it was dangerous.

But Julie hadn’t trusted him, the man she’d committed to for the rest of her life.

Or maybe it was simpler than that. Ben wondered if long before he’d met Julie, she and her family had decided they would keep her brother’s illness a secret from everyone.

How could he blame her? Hadn’t he done the very same thing? Made a decision long before he’d met her to withhold certain parts of his life from her, from everyone?

Lives depended upon his discretion. If he had it to do all over again, he would have been open with her. Would Julie have been open with him?

He’d never know. It was too late. Julie had taken the secret to her grave.

Because of that secret, his sister was in danger. Because of that two men had been murdered in cold blood and Grace had nearly been killed.

Ben shuddered, remembering the bruises on her neck.

Grace had come to mean a great deal to him very quickly. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he was forced to admit she meant everything to him.

Eyes still closed, Ben massaged the side of his head. He was getting a headache again. A sudden vision of Grace’s long, smooth, shapely legs as she’d sat helpless in the hallway in front of his door two nights ago‍—‌was it just two nights ago?‍—‌intruded into his thoughts, and involuntarily, his mouth twitched.

He could feel those same sexy legs wrapped tightly around his waist just an hour ago. God, imagining that tangle of golden brown hair in his hands made him damn hard despite everything. Ben shifted uncomfortably in his chair and released his seatbelt. He stood up and stretched in the small space. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and paced back and forth while Tom and the detective watched. He’d changed into jeans and black running shoes before they left. His pistol sat in the shoulder harness, comfortable, familiar.

“Ben, sit,” said Tom. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Answers,” Ben replied. “I want answers before anything else happens.”

“You and me both,” said Tom. “So do Eckert’s and Dobson’s widows.”

Ben paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask. I was so focused on Angel I didn’t ask about the funerals.”

“The funerals are scheduled for next week, both of them. The two were close, like brothers. They’d worked together for five years. Brian’s funeral is Tuesday, Eric’s on Thursday. I’m closing the office for the entire week.”

“I hope I can be there,” Ben said.

Tom shot him a discerning look. “I’m counting on it.”

My Everything◊J. R. Barrett

Grace woke with
a start, the sheets bunched around her face. She smelled Ben and sex. Eyes still closed, she inhaled deeply. Then she remembered where she was, in his bed in his hotel room. Everything they’d done in this very bed came flooding back into her sleep-deprived brain. She rolled over onto her stomach and rubbed her cheek against the pillow, whimpering, forgetting someone might be listening.

“You okay?” A man’s voice intruded into her fantasy.

“Huh?” Grace bolted upright, ready to fight or flee.

Oh yeah, she’d forgotten. There was a police officer sitting in a chair by the door, watching her every move. Grace shoved the hair out of her eyes and looked at the window. Judging by the light coming from between the curtains, it was near dawn. She’d slept for a couple of hours. She turned back toward the officer.

“Have you heard anything?”

He shook his head.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. You don’t have to stay here.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I do. According to my supervisor and Mr. McCall, I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight.”

Grace stopped an eye roll in mid-roll. “After I shower why don’t we head over to your station then? I want to know what’s going on and I’d like to be there if you find the van and Angel Sanders. I was her babysitter when I was in college.”

The officer nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Have you heard anything about her parents?” Grace asked. “Are they on their way here?”

“As far as I know their plane arrives around noon. Some weather holdup in Dallas.”

Grace flipped off the sheets and rummaged through her remaining clothes‍—‌the stuff Roger Smithson hadn’t ruined. She grabbed a pair of khaki shorts, a white tank, a sports bra and panties, her running shoes and a pair of socks and disappeared into the bathroom. At least her toiletries had survived intact. She needed to remember to bring a sweatshirt too. This was Los Angeles, after all. It usually cooled off at night and she didn’t know how long she’d be out.

Grace shut the bathroom door behind her. She didn’t remember her arm until she started to remove her tee shirt and the sleeve caught on the bandage. She’d completely forgotten to get it sutured. Damn, it stung. Wincing, she peeled away the dressing. Despite the fresh blood on the gauze, she’d have to save it and rewrap her arm after her shower.

Grace took a close look at the laceration. It could use a few stitches, but she didn’t really have the time to go to an ER. Besides, the cut was pretty superficial. No muscle involved. It would continue to ooze for a while but oh well. It would heal on its own eventually. A scar was no big deal.

The steaming hot water sluicing down her body felt good. She turned the shower head to hard pulse and the stiffness in her neck began to ease. Grace washed her thick hair twice, then used the conditioner to help get rid of the tangles that had resulted from her violent encounter with Roger Smithson.

Now that Grace knew who had attacked her and had some idea of why, she had mixed feelings. She had no fear for herself. Her first priority, everyone’s first priority was Angel, but she was worried about Ben, too. What would happen when Ben found him? Grace could sense he was torn about what to do.

Roger Smithson had murdered two of his friends, kidnapped his sister and god only knew what he’d done to Angel since. Given the opportunity, it was obvious Smithson would kill Ben. After her own experience with him, Grace didn’t doubt that for a second. She just wasn’t so certain about Ben. She was afraid he might hesitate, even if he was forced to defend himself. Roger was his late wife’s brother. That had to mean something, despite the fact that right now Roger was the proverbial evil sibling.

Though it wasn’t her area, Grace knew enough about paranoid schizophrenia to understand Roger couldn’t help it, not if he’d stopped taking his meds as she suspected he’d done.

Grace noticed the pulse of water growing a little uncomfortable on her sore neck, and she was reminded that her personal escort awaited her. She flipped off the shower and grabbed a towel.

Roger had to be found, he had to be stopped, and he needed treatment. But if he did something stupid, if he hurt Angel, if he went after the police or Ben, he could be killed. What a terrible tragedy that would be, both Julie and her brother dead.

Grace was confident Ben would do his damnedest to avoid hurting Julie’s brother, but she worried he’d sacrifice himself. He already felt responsible for Julie’s death.