Simon Says Die (13 page)

He gently squeezed her fingers. “They don't hate you. I won't let them.” His brows drew down in a harsh line. “Then again, it might be better if they did. Then they'd leave you alone.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, alarmed by his tone.

“You're too beautiful by far. Once they're certain you and I aren't involved anymore, they'll see you as fair game. Well, Braedon and Devlin will. You're exactly their type, and they're outrageous flirts. I should have told you before we came out here. You don't have to face my family. I can take you home, have Casey or another agent watch over you for a few hours while I get the required family visit out of the way.”

She was still trying not to choke up over his matter-of-fact statement about them not being involved anymore, and she was having trouble focusing on what else he'd said. Something about a required family visit? She didn't buy that. He wanted this, to see his brothers, Austin. And he was already here. She didn't want him to have to miss dinner with them or postpone his visit because of her.

Especially since they weren't involved anymore.

She blinked against the burn of unshed tears. She deserved this, feeling miserable, after how she'd treated him. Taking the easy way out, leaving without facing his family, was incredibly tempting. But that wasn't fair to Pierce. She sensed he wanted her with him to face his family, so she wasn't going to abandon him now, not if he needed her. She could consider it her penance.

“Come on,” she said. “Let's go up to the house. I want to see this family of yours. If they're anything like Braedon and Matt, I'll consider myself honored to meet them. And if they're mean to me, I'll just be mean right back. I can take care of myself.”

She could see some of the tension go out of his shoulders, the relief in his eyes.

“All right, tough girl. Let's go.”

This time, as they walked back toward the house, he slowed his stride to match hers, so she wouldn't have to run to keep up. When they stood outside the front door, he leaned down beside her. “Come on, beautiful,” he whispered. “Let's get this family reunion over with. I have a feeling I'm going to have to bash a few heads in to teach my brothers some manners.”

She blinked at his compliment, and looked up at him, wondering if he'd even realized how his voice had softened when he'd said it. Was it possible he still cared about her, even after the “no relationship” comment?

He pushed the door open, and she dragged her gaze away from him to face the gauntlet she was about to run. The low hum of conversation went silent as five pairs of eyes centered on them from the couches in the middle of the family room. She instinctively stepped closer to Pierce. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

“Don't worry,” he spoke in a low voice, only for her. “They'll love you.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward into the enormous room that resembled a hunting lodge. A massive fireplace took up the far wall and had a roaring fire inside. All the walls were painted dark brown and displayed paintings of wildlife, except for one wall that was filled with what looked to be family pictures.

He pulled her to one of three large brown leather couches in the center of the room. Three men were sitting on the first couch, a fourth sat on the couch across from the first one, and a young man sat in a wheelchair between both couches.

“Madison, meet Alex, one of the best defense attorneys to ever practice law in the state of Georgia.” He waved his hand toward the man closest to them.

He had coal black hair with tiny threads of silver running through it, and brilliant blue eyes that looked far too sad, even though he was smiling. “I'm sure Madison doesn't care about my status as a
semi-retired
attorney,” he corrected. “Besides, I can't imagine her ever needing a defense lawyer.” He gave her a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Madison.”

“You too.” Her stomach jumped at his reference to needing a defense attorney. Her last night with Damon, their argument, and what she'd done, loomed in her mind. It was all she could do not to yank her hand away and run.

“You already met Braedon,” Pierce continued. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice her discomfort. “And his constant shadow, Matt.”

She nodded and shook both their hands as they stood and reached out to her.

Pierce turned to the lone man on the far couch. “This is Devlin, better known as Devil, with good reason. Stay away from him.” Pierce gave his brother a warning scowl.

Devlin grinned and took both of Madison's hands in his as he towered over her. He was the tallest of all the men so far, including Pierce, and Madison had to tilt her head way back to meet his dark-eyed gaze.

“Why don't you sit over here with me, gorgeous?” He tugged her toward the couch.

Pierce plucked Devlin's hands off her and shoved his brother onto the couch.

Madison let out a shocked gasp, but Devlin only laughed.

The low hum of the wheelchair's motor had all eyes turning to the last occupant in the room as he pushed a lever and brought the chair to a stop in front of Madison. When she looked down at him and held out her hand to shake his, her mouth dropped open in surprise as she glanced back at Matt.

Matt sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Twins,” he said, confirming what she'd just realized. “I'm the older, responsible one. Austin's the baby.”

“Five minutes doesn't make me the baby. It makes you the jackass.”

“Austin, watch your language.” Alex's deep voice filled the room, even though he'd barely spoken above a whisper.

Austin rolled his eyes. “I'm twenty-one, and he still treats me like a two-year-old.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Madison said. “My brother calls me ‘trouble' and still thinks I need a babysitter.” She glanced pointedly at Pierce.

Austin's youthful face broke out in a smile as he shook her hand. “Sorry if I offended you with my language.” He didn't look apologetic in the least, in spite of his words. He was slow to let go of her hand and gave her a warm squeeze before he did.

Braedon clapped his hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “It's about time you two got here. I'm starving.” Devlin and Matt got up too, and the three of them headed out one of the sliding glass doors on the back of the house.

“Pierce, why don't you ice down the drinks,” Alex said. “Austin, you can help. I'll escort this young lady outside.”

Pierce didn't look at all happy with Alex's suggestion, but he nodded curtly and headed toward the front of the house with Austin following behind.

“Madison?” Alex offered his arm. His mouth curved in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

A feeling of foreboding went through her, but she took his arm and walked with him through the glass doors to a wide deck that extended off the back of the house. The brothers were on the right side, taking steaks out of a cooler and loading them onto two grills that were already smoking. Devlin caught sight of her and gave her a broad grin, before Matt elbowed him in the ribs and got his attention.

“Don't mind them.” Alex led her to the railing several feet away from the others.

“I don't mind them at all.” She sat beside him. “They all seem very nice.”

He nodded. “They're good kids.”

“Kids?” She looked toward the grill where the three brothers were arguing about the best placement of the steaks. “Braedon's what, thirty-eight, forty?”

“Thirty-nine. Matt's twenty-one like Austin, of course. Devlin's a precocious thirty. But it's not age that defines how old you are. It's attitude. Trust me, they all have the attitude of a randy college kid. Well, except for Matt maybe. He's always serious.” His smile dimmed. “And Pierce. He's serious too, even more now than he used to be. Something changed him a few months ago.” He turned the full intensity of his ice-blue stare on her.

This was what he'd wanted to talk to her about. The family patriarch looking out for his son. And he obviously saw her as a threat.

She swallowed and dug her fingernails into her palms. She looked away, out over the acres of winter-brown grass and oak trees that dotted the landscape behind the house. “It's beautiful here. Pierce told me this is
your
house.”

She heard his sigh, and from the corner of her eye she saw him turn to look out over the yard as well.

“It's the family house. It belongs to all of us. I've lived here for . . . oh, twenty-five years now, give or take. Most of the time it doesn't seem that long. Other times, it seems a whole lot longer. Pierce said you were from New York?”

“Originally, I'm from the Florida Panhandle. But when my family moved to New York, I fell in love with the city.”

“And yet, you moved to Savannah. Any particular reason?”

She glanced around, wondering what was taking Pierce so long. “My brother thought I'd like it here. He's the reason I bought my house.”

“What kind of house?”

“An old colonial, on East Gaston Street.”

“Nice part of town. What square are you near?”

She could well imagine this man facing a witness in court. He was quite good at interrogating. “The closest square is Calhoun. I'm less than a block from Forsyth Park, between Drayton and Abercorn.”

“You aren't far from that amazing center fountain at the end of the park then. I used to roam the historic district whenever I had a chance to get away from work. That's how I know Lieutenant Hamilton, by the way, from the courthouse. We were often on opposite sides of the law, but we've always been friends outside the courtroom.”

She clutched the railing and waited for his next question.

“I know about the shooting. We all do. I also know a few more details the rest don't know.”

She stiffened and turned to face him. “What details?”

“Everything.”

She glanced back at the house and crossed her arms. “Hamilton told you he thinks I'm some hysterical female who's faking threatening notes and believing her stalker is her dead husband. Let me guess. You agree.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to.”

“What I think is that you have a ghost in your past that is coming back to haunt you. Whether that ghost is your dead husband, or something
you
did, remains to be seen.”

There was no mistaking the threat in his deep tone. “Why don't you just speak plainly? Are you trying to warn me about something, sir?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether you hurt Pierce again.”

 

Chapter Twelve

T
HE DOOR BEHIND
Alex slid open and Pierce stepped outside. Madison saw his jaw tighten when he looked at her, as if he realized what Alex was doing.

Interrogating her.

She tried to gather her composure, and offered a small smile.

“You're supposed to be grilling steaks, Alex, not Madison.” Pierce eyed the other man with suspicion and set a bucket of iced-down beer by the railing. Austin wheeled up beside him with a second bucket in his lap. Pierce grabbed the bucket and set it down beside the first one.

When Pierce stepped toward Alex looking like he was ready to do battle, Madison grabbed his arm.

“Alex was just telling me about your family.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't look convinced.

Alex smiled, his eyes mirroring his approval. “Austin, you need to take your meds before we eat.”

Austin's smile dimmed, and he said a few choice words beneath his breath as he wheeled around and headed back inside.

“You shouldn't treat him like a kid,” Pierce said.

“You're right, but he hero-worships you, and I didn't want him upset. It's not good for him.”

“Why would he be upset?”

“You got shot. I want the details.
All
of them.”

Pierce leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms. “Madison, would you mind going inside to check on Austin?”

“Now who's treating him like a kid?” Alex said.

Madison rushed to the door, more than happy to avoid this particular discussion, and to put some distance between herself and Alex. “I don't mind,” she said, heading inside.

The sound of cursing led her toward the front of the house into the kitchen. Austin's wheelchair was rolled up to a table and a pile of pill bottles was spread out before him. A bottle of water sat to his right.

He glanced up when she entered the room. His face turned a light shade of red. “Did Alex send you in here to help me? I swear he thinks I can't open these damn things by myself.”

She pulled out a chair next to him and took the bottle out of his hand. “Judging by the cursing when I came in here, he's right. But, actually, it was Pierce who sent me in here. He wanted to speak privately to Alex without me overhearing.” She twisted the cap off and set it on the table. “How many?”

His mouth twitched and his frown melted into a grin. “You've got some sass in you. I like that.” He nodded toward the bottle. “I'm supposed to cut that one in half.”

She glanced around, then got up and went to the kitchen counter. She pointed at a knife and cutting board. “Is this what you use?”

“Yeah.”

She washed her hands at the sink, then carried the knife and cutting board to the table. After sitting down, she shook out one of the pills.

“I wouldn't have thought to wash my hands first.”

“That's because you're a guy.”

He shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Why do you call him Alex?” she asked.

“Because that's his name.”

“Now who's being sassy? He's your father, right? So why do you call him by his first name?”

He shrugged. “I grew up hearing everyone else call him Alex. The ‘Daddy' label never took.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, shaking out pills, putting them on a napkin. Madison cut three of them in half, per Austin's instructions. When they were done, she capped all the bottles. “Where do you keep these?”

“On the counter.” He waved toward where the cutting board and knife had been. “But I can put them up myself.”

“I'm sure you can. But I've got nothing better to do at the moment.” She carried them to the counter, rinsed and dried the board and knife, then rejoined Austin at the table.

He started taking the pills, two at a time, chasing them with a swallow of water.

“That's an awful lot of pills. Do you take them every day?”

“On this most recent study, yeah. Some of the studies are worse than others.” He shrugged. “None of them seem to do any good for very long. I keep getting worse.”

“Worse? In what way?”

He waved his hand toward the wheelchair. “This is new. Before this last study, I could walk . . . sometimes. The paralysis is a side effect of the medication. Temporary, supposedly. I'm starting to wonder if the potential benefits are worth it. But the doctors swear the medication will result in long-term gains like it has for other diseases. If all goes well, in a few months, I should be out of the chair again.”

She glanced at his legs. “The pills paralyze you?”

“Yep. Can't feel a thing. Alex is terrified I'll burn myself or something and not know it. That's another reason he sent me in here, I'm sure. To keep me away from the grill.” He grinned. “Heck, maybe I
should
burn myself just to see him freak out.”

“Very mature.”

His grin widened.

“Sounds like the cure is worse than the disease.”

He sobered. “Sometimes it is.”

“What's the prognosis?” When he raised his brows, she rushed to apologize. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so nosey.”

He shook his head. “I don't mind. You just surprised me. Most people avoid looking at my wheelchair, or asking questions. They pretend there's nothing wrong.” He took a sip of water. “The prognosis is that the doctors don't know. There haven't been enough people in the world with my disease for them to make any predictions. I could keep losing muscle function and become completely dependent on others for my care. Or I could stabilize and live a long, relatively healthy life. They just don't know.”

“That must be incredibly frustrating.”

He cocked his head, studying her. “You're not at all what I expected.”

“What you . . . expected?”

“You know, for a party girl who dumped my brother to scope out the dating scene in New York.”

Her face flushed with heat, and she jumped up from her chair.

“Hold on a second,” he said. “Okay, okay, I admit that was out of line. I shouldn't have said that. Don't go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why shouldn't I?”

He waved his hand toward his wheelchair. “Because I'm a cripple, and I'm lonely?”

The puppy-dog look on his face was so ridiculous she couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh, fine. But no more insults.”

She plopped down in her chair.

“Those were my words, by the way, not Pierce's,” he said. “Pierce was much more diplomatic when he explained about the breakup.”

“I'm not talking about that anymore.”

“What were their names?”

“Excuse me?”

“The guys you dated. You did tell Pierce you were”—he raised his hands and did air quotes—“ ‘moving on.' ” He lowered his hands. “What's wrong? Can't make up any names fast enough to answer the question?”

“Of course I can.” She flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I've met several . . . ah, really nice guys.” She waved her hand in the air, desperately trying to think of a name, any name. “There was, um . . . John, and uh, Mike, of course.”

“Do John and Mike have last names?”

“I came in here to help you, not play games.” She shoved her chair back again.

He grabbed her arm when she started to get up, holding on with surprising strength. “You know what I think? I think you lied to my brother. I think you're still hung up on him. I saw the way you were looking at him when he opened the door. That's not the look of a woman who has moved on.”

She shook off his hand and shoved back from the table. “My feelings for Pierce are none of your business. What is it with this family? First, Alex, now you. You sure know how to make a stranger feel welcome.” She gripped her chair to stand, but he moved forward, using his wheelchair to block her way.

He grinned. “Did Alex lecture you? He's good at that.”

She glared at him and wondered why she'd liked him earlier. She didn't like him at all right now.

He cocked his head again. “If you really wanted to date other guys, you wouldn't act so defensive. So I have to conclude you lied to my brother.”

She clutched the chair in frustration. “What do you want from me?”

“Tit for tat. I shared personal details with you.” He waved his hand toward his wheelchair. “How about you do the same? Just between you and me. Answer one question, honestly, and we're even.”

She crossed her arms. “What's the question?”

“Don't insult me by pretending you didn't lie to Pierce when you broke up. The real question is . . .
Why
did you lie?”

She forced a swallow past her tightening throat. “I never wanted to hurt him. I hated leaving the way I did,” she whispered.

“You still care about him.”

“Yes. Always”

“Then why did you lie?”

“Because I couldn't tell him the truth. I needed him to let me go. I had to tell him something awful, to make sure he wouldn't try to stop me.” She drew in a ragged breath.

He backed away, his expression smug. “My work here is done. I'm starving. I think I'll go outside and grab a thick, juicy steak.” He looked past her shoulder. “Oh, hey, Pierce. I didn't notice you there.” Austin winked at Madison and wheeled out of the kitchen.

Damn.
Madison's pulse thudded in her ears. She took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

Pierce was standing in the kitchen doorway. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. She braced herself for his accusations, his barrage of questions.

Without a single word, he turned and walked away.

T
HE RIDE BACK
to Pierce's house was taut with silence. Madison kept waiting for him to demand that she tell him why she'd lied. But just like their earlier car ride from Mr. Newsome's house, he was completely silent.

As soon as he opened the front door of the cabin, she tried to rush past him, fully intending to spend the rest of the evening in the bedroom, hiding like the coward she'd just discovered she was.

But his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, preventing her escape. She glanced up at him uncertainly, but he wasn't looking at her. He disabled the alarm, locked the door, then reset the alarm, before turning and giving her his full attention.

His jaw muscles were tight, and he looked more serious than she'd ever seen him. Calm, too calm, like a dormant volcano ready to explode. “We need to discuss a few things.” His words were short, clipped.

Her stomach sank. He towed her the few steps to the couch. She plopped down, but instead of sitting next to her, he stepped to the small desk against the wall and powered up the laptop sitting there.

He typed for a moment, then he swiveled the laptop around so she could see the screen. “This is your home security alarm company report for the past month, the report I requested after you realized some pictures were missing from your albums.”

She frowned, puzzled.
This
was what he wanted to talk about? Not why she'd lied when she broke up with him? She got up and crossed to the desk to view the report. It had yesterday's date. “Why didn't you tell me you had this?”

“I guess I forgot. Kind of like you forgot to tell me about the note and phone call Lieutenant Hamilton mentioned at Newsome's house.”

She winced, but she didn't respond to his goading, which she thought was admirable. Instead, she scrolled through the report. “The alarm hasn't been tripped. I already knew that.”

“What about the dates and times the alarm was set or disabled? Do they look right?”

She pressed the keys, paging through the report more slowly. “I couldn't swear to every time, of course. I didn't exactly keep a log. But overall, it looks right.”

“No one else knows the alarm code?”

“I already told you and Hamilton that I changed it after I moved in. I haven't shared it with anyone—not even you.”

He swiveled the laptop back toward him. “Did you use your birthday for the alarm code? Or some other date your husband might be able to guess?”

Her pulse sped up, and she moved back to the couch. “Ah, no, Damon wouldn't know the code. It's not significant.” To
him
. It was, however, significant to
her
.

“You're sure?”

The code was the month and day of her first date with Pierce. She swallowed, her throat tight. “I'm sure.”

“What's the code?”

“Why?” She tried to think of a reasonable excuse for not telling him the code, but just like when she was talking to Austin, her mind was coming up blank.

“I want to judge for myself if the numbers are a pattern Damon might be able to guess.”

“How would you know if it was?”

He waved toward the computer. “Casey e-mailed a file with some information on Damon. I read some of it on my phone earlier. Before I go through the rest, I'd like that code. There might be something in his past, your shared past, that would make him able to guess the code. I've got to figure out how he got in your house to take those photographs from your albums—or even if he did get inside your house. Sometimes moving companies store everything for a short period in a warehouse before making the final delivery. He might have searched through the boxes at the warehouse.”

The thought of Damon going through her things had the hairs standing up on her arms. “I suppose that's possible. After the movers packed my apartment, I stayed in New York a few days wrapping up loose ends before I flew down here. They delivered my furniture the day after I arrived. They would have had to store my belongings.”

“The code?”

Guys didn't remember things like when they had their first date, did they? Especially when the relationship ended so badly. She drew a deep breath and told him the code.