Sweeter Than Sin (13 page)

Adam caught her chin, studied her face.

To her surprise, he swept his thumb across her cheek and that light touch sent a ribbon of heat curling through her. “And what will it do to
both
of you if he strokes out in five minutes? The next one is likely to kill him.” Adam’s eyes narrowed on her face. “But somehow I think you already know that. Just how do you know that?”

She jerked her chin out of his reach and looked away.

“I can’t—”

“You can. Just go over there. Whatever else happens, all he has wanted for the past twenty years was a chance to see you again. Can you tell me you haven’t wanted the same?”

Lana shoved her hands through her hair and spun away, staring back toward her father. “I can’t do it out here.”

“That’s easy enough.” Adam shrugged. “Just give me a few minutes and follow me. If you’re ready to stop running. Isn’t that why you’re
here
?”

She closed her eyes. Hugged herself. Then slowly, she lifted her lashes and whispered, “Yes.”

In the next moment, he was gone, striding toward Jimmy Rossi while Lana waited there, in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Praying she wasn’t making yet another mistake.

*   *   *

The walk to his room lasted just a few minutes and she trailed behind, keeping out of sight, listening to the rushes of voices around them. With her head down, she watched everybody from under her lashes. She’d slid inside with a group of kids and adults—probably some kids from the nearby elementary school coming to read—but she wasn’t sure if her luck would last or not.

It did.

As Adam pushed her father’s chair into his room, he cast a look over his shoulder, and when he met her gaze something eased in his expression, like he hadn’t expected to see her there.

The insane urge to stick her tongue out at him almost overtook her.

He evidently saw something of it echoed in her eyes, because a reluctant grin flashed across his face before he disappeared inside the room. She crept closer, pausing just outside the door only to freeze in her tracks as a familiar voice, deep and low and steady, came rolling out of the room. “Now what in the hell is this, Adam? I spend enough time in this damn room. If I gotta sit on my ass, I might as well do it outside.”

He might be a shadow of himself, but that voice hadn’t changed, she thought. Big as life and just as strong.

“I told you, sir. Somebody wanted to speak with you.”

Lana closed her eyes. Swiping her hands down the front of her jeans, she slid inside the room. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breathing ragged and uneasy.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t routine. You have to stick to your routine! You have to be careful!
In the back of her head, the voice that had guided her life tried to shout at her.

In the end, though, that voice was the very thing that made it easier for her to move deeper into the room, to stop just a few feet away from her father, to dart a look around the room before stopping, finally, to stare at him through her lashes.

Fuck her routine. Fuck normal. Fuck
careful.

Maybe if she hadn’t been
careful,
she would have realized the problems were still happening. Maybe she would have stayed or come back and she might have been able to stop it before more kids got hurt. But she’d thought it had stopped, and she’d stayed safe, she’d been careful …

And nothing had been
normal
.

Normal
was a lie.

Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her head and looked at him, seeing all the changes brought on by twenty years.

What if he doesn’t recognize me?

For a long moment, there was just silence.

She stared at him.

He stared at her.

But there was no question.

In the glittering depths of his eyes, she saw it. In the harsh intake of his breath, the way his mouth fell open and the way his good hand tightened over the arm of his chair.

Slowly, he reached out a hand. Lana remembered when those hands had been big and strong, how he’d sat at the table helping her with algebra and geometry and how he’d groused when she’d struggled with chemistry because it was too dang hard for him. Now those hands were gnarled and bent and it hurt her heart to see him reaching out for help.

She started to move forward, but Adam was already there, helping Jim to his feet, and that massive ache in her chest spread.

She hadn’t been here. The dull, painful knowledge twisted in her like a blade.

With slow, uneven steps, Jim Rossi crossed the tiled floor and stood in front of her, leaning heavily against Adam for support. Jim’s voice when it came was soft but firm. “I knew you were alive,” he said softly, staring at her like he was trying to see every single change that had happened over the past two decades. He saw past the glasses she didn’t need, the dyed hair that annoyed the hell out of her, saw differences that time, heartache and grief had left written all over her. “I knew it.”

“Daddy … I…” She swallowed, unsure of what to say to him.

He shook his head. “I don’t to need to hear. Not right now. You got trouble on you; I can see it. Are you in trouble now?”

She hesitated, uncertain how to answer that.

He arched a brow. “Just answer the question, Lana. I raised you to face it if you did something wrong, not to run from it. You never had any trouble facing it, no matter what kind of mess you got caught up in. So just tell me … are you in trouble now or is everything okay?”

I raised you to face it.…

Translation:
Whatever happened, I believe in you.

Something she didn’t fully understand—shame, maybe hope, maybe fear, maybe all of it—twisted inside her. Flashes of the blood, echoes of the lingering pain, the fear, the faded bits of memory that continued to haunt her.

Part of her wanted to cry because that message was one she’d needed so badly over the years, but she didn’t know if she was worthy of it.
I believe in you.…

He believed in her, but did she deserve that trust?

She didn’t think she did.

And there was nothing really she could offer him.

“I…” She paused and took a deep, slow breath. “I don’t remember a whole lot of that night, Dad. I ran because I thought it was the right thing to do—the only thing. At the time.”

It was, mostly, the truth. It was also the only truth she could offer, for now.

He studied her for a long moment and then nodded.

He reached for her and a second later she was folded in his arms. And the strength was still there. He was weaker, but there was still strength in him and she let herself lean on him for just a moment.

Lana swallowed the sob that caught in her throat. She wouldn’t cry again. Not here. Not now. But damn if she wasn’t going to take a few minutes.

CHAPTER NINE

Get your ass in here.

Adam scowled at the text message from his manager, then turned the phone off and pushed it into his pocket. Whatever was eating at Troy’s ass had big, ugly teeth, because he never bothered Adam this much.

But he did have to get to the grill.

He hated to do it, though. Leaving Lana alone just didn’t seem to be the right thing to do. She sat at the table, looking empty and tired and broken, and all he wanted to do was pull her up against him and hold her.

Not an option, though.

Not only had she brushed his hand aside when he tried to just touch her; she hadn’t even wanted to speak with him. Shutting him out, completely.
Fine, then.
He had a business to run anyway. Interviews lined up and that position to fill—they’d been running short ever since he’d fired Layla¸ and they couldn’t keep it up.

Saturdays were also busy as hell, and there was no way he could take the time he wanted. Well, maybe if she’d acted like she wanted him to …

She didn’t. Move on. Deal with it.

She still had the spare key. His gut told him she’d be back, even if she wasn’t around when he got in from work.

And if she wasn’t, he’d just find her. He had questions and he was going to figure out what the hell had kept her away, and scared, for the past twenty years.

Whatever was going on, though, she was here for a reason.

A mission,
he thought. She wasn’t just here because she’d missed home. The way she’d sobbed into the pillow had been telling. She’d missed home, a lot. She’d missed her father.

Something had kept her away and something had drawn her back. Considering all the shit exploding in town, including the body and the fire, the ties to the Frampton house, Adam had a bad feeling about how all of this might be connected.

At the same time, he knew it meant she wasn’t going to walk until she’d seen this through.

He was still brooding over Lana and the puzzle of her when he let himself into his office roughly twenty minutes later. The place was buzzing and all the chatter was an annoying hum in his ear already. He just wanted a few minutes of peace.

And he wouldn’t get it. He hadn’t even had a chance to put his butt in his chair when his manager appeared in the doorway of Adam’s office.
What shitload of problems is he bringing me now?

Troy, his daytime bartender and assistant manager, stood there, his ruddy face tight with strain. “We got a problem.”

“Yeah, I got that idea after the first ten texts about me getting my ass here. However, I pay you to handle problems when I’m not around … so … deal with it,” Adam said sourly, although he already knew Troy would have already
done
that if he could. That was why Adam had put Troy in that position—he knew what needed to be done and he did it without complaining and came to Adam only when he couldn’t fix things on his own.

A headache brewed at the base of Adam’s skull, threatening to take a big greedy bite out of him. He eyed the big box on the floor near the door. A new rum he was trying out in the bar. He had visions of opening a bottle and just having a drink. Or five. But it never stopped with one—
or
five. Jerking his chin to the box, he said, “Get that put up for me, would you?”

“Later.” Troy planted his hands on his hips, deep grooves bracketing his mouth as he stared at Adam. That look never spelled good things. Usually Troy only looked like that when he was having man troubles.

Hell.
Adam didn’t have time for this. “Look, if you and Drake are having problems, too fucking bad—”

“I dumped his ass. Be quiet a minute. I didn’t want to text you about this and you weren’t answering your phone, so just shut up and listen. Rita’s dad was murdered last night,” Troy said, cutting him off.

Adam closed his eyes and dragged a hand down his face and then looked back at Troy. “What?”

Dropping into the seat across from him, Troy leaned forward and pinned him with a level stare. “You heard me. That’s what everybody is in there yapping about. Her mom is in the hospital. Passed out or had a heart attack or some shit. But Harlan Troyer is dead.” Then, dropping his voice even though there were just the two of them, Troy said, “I heard rumors that he was one of them. I … uh, well, I know one of the medics who was called out to the scene. They’re keeping it quiet, but he knows she works here and all. He gave me a heads-up.”

Adam barely even registered that.

He was too busy remembering last night … and Rita. The hour she’d spent locked in here with Jensen.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah.” Troy leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs. The faded T-shirt went tight over his paunch and it seemed the grooves around his mouth and eyes had gotten deeper.

For a moment they lapsed into silence, and then Adam covered his face with his hands, scrubbed them up and down. He lowered them, half-hoping that Troy would be gone and this would all turn out to be some exhaustion-fueled hallucination. Adam had had them before.

But not today.

Troy was still sitting there, looking tired and strained and pissed. He ran a hand back over his balding head and then got up to go look at the box of rum, staring at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. “They found him this morning. My buddy tells me that there was … well…” He grimaced, shot Adam a look. “It’s a pretty good chance he was in on that fucked-up shit. If you know what I’m talking about.”

Adam gripped the arms of his chair, thought about punching the monitor in front of him. “Yeah. I know.” He blew out a sigh, rotating his neck as tension gathered there and settled in for a nice, long party. “So Rita won’t be in. We’ll deal. Anything else?”

Troy was quiet.

Adam blew out a breath. “What happened with you and Drake?”

“The dick was two-timing me again and, on top of that, acting all crazy every time I talked to anybody. Got tired of it. I don’t need anybody that high maintenance.”

Adam studied him for a minute. It wasn’t Drake, but something still had Troy all wound up. “If it’s not him, what is it?”

Troy opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and shook his head. He bent down, hauled the box of rum up, straining until he had it settled in his arms. His face was red with the effort by the time and Adam almost told him to put it back down, he’d move it later. But he needed that rum out of there.

Now.

After a second, Troy spoke again, his voice edged. “Somebody needs to check on Rita.” That was all he said, but it was the unspoken words that left Adam unsettled.

“Why?”

Troy looked past him, staring at the wall. “I just think it needs to be done, Adam. And trust me, you don’t want me doing it.”

Troy and Rita didn’t get along, at all, but the look in the other man’s eyes had Adam worried. “Did she call in?”

“No. One of the girls tried to call, check on her, after we heard. It was Rhonda. They are pretty good friends. Apparently she called Rhonda last night, or early this morning … whatever. Rhonda said she sounded drunk off her ass and was talking crazy. I…” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “Look, somebody needs to go out there, okay?” He jerked a head at the door. “Get that open or you get to sit in here and torment yourself some more with this shit. You go out and see Rita. I’ll deal with the interviews. But I don’t think this should wait.”