The Secret Life of Bryan (19 page)

“You can tell me, you know.” She cupped his face in gentle hands, leaned down and kissed him with a tenderness he’d never known. “You can tell me.”

With his hands loosely holding her narrow waist, he looked up into her innocent blue eyes and admitted the awful truth. “I knew where they were. I’m the one who sent the authorities after them. I could have warned her first, but I…I wanted her to see the drama of a man being captured, dragged in by the police. I wanted her to see…” He stopped and looked away.

“You wanted her to see what she’d chosen over you?”

Even in his turmoil, Bryan registered the silky texture of her skin, the heat of her body, her arousing scent. Now, though, instead of exciting him, it comforted him.
She
comforted him. He gave one sharp nod. “That’s about it. I never once considered that she might be hurt. I didn’t consider anything but feeding my ego, my anger.”

“Your hurt.” Shay lay back down, this time atop him, giving him a full-body hug. “You’re a big, macho tough guy, Bryan, but no one is immune to hurt.”

He wanted to deny it, but he knew he couldn’t. He’d told Shay enough lies already.

“So,” she said, her voice lighter, “did the cops get the guy?”

“No. Once Megan got shot, all their efforts went into helping her, and Bruno got away.” He tangled a hand in her hair and tipped her face up so she could see his satisfaction. “I wanted to get him. For Megan and for me. But it was Joe Winston who caught him.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

“Why?”

“You’re a preacher, not a bounty hunter. You could have been hurt.”

“Jesus.” He covered his eyes with a hand. Did she have to spell out his lies? Throw them in his face?

“Or,” Shay continued, kissing each of his fingers until he removed his hand, “you probably would have hurt Bruno, because you were too emotionally involved. That wouldn’t have been good, either. I’m glad Joe Winston is the one who took care of it.”

Bryan stared at her, and felt some of the crippling guilt wash away. “Yeah, me too.” And for once, he meant it. “Now the creep is rotting in jail.”

“Where Freddie Baker should be.”

He kissed her mouth. “Don’t you worry about Freddie. I’ll take care of him.”

She started to say something to that, when Bryan’s cell phone rang. The fact that it wasn’t the landline told him it wasn’t one of the women from the safe house. Bryan rolled out from under Shay. “Damn, where the hell are my jeans?”

Shay found them on her side of the bed and handed them to him. Gut instinct told Bryan that something was wrong, that he wouldn’t be getting a call now otherwise. After finally wrestling the phone from his pocket, he answered on the fourth ring. “Kelly here.”

“You’re going to love this, Bryan.”

“Joe?” Astonished, Bryan glanced at Shay. She sat beside him, totally nude, her legs bent beneath her, her expression reflecting the same curiosity he felt. “Hell of a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was just talking about you.”

“Riveting conversation, I’m sure,” Joe drawled, “but Jamie is here and he’s blathering on about you and women you can’t trust. He’s got himself all excited.”

“Jamie? Excited? From what I remember, he’s pretty mellow.”

“Not this time.” There was a pause, a sound of disgust, and Joe said, “Jamie tells me we’re interrupting something. Are we?”

His laugh came unexpectedly. The range of Jamie’s supposed skills amazed him. “As a matter of fact…”

“Great. He just had to be right, didn’t he?” And then, “Oh, shut up, Jamie.”

Knowing Joe’s sour mood was more put on than not, Bryan said, “Give me just a second. I’ll be right back.” He covered the phone and turned to Shay. “None other than Joe Winston himself is on the line.”

Shay stared at him with fascinated glee. “Really?”

“He has some things he needs to tell me. And I imagine the ladies are anxious to see you back, so why don’t you get dressed while I talk?”

“You want privacy?”

Hell, no. He wanted to pull her back down in the bed and love her all over again. “No, but I should be getting you back, so get dressed while I finish this conversation, all right?”

“I wish I could stay.”

Damn. He wished that, too. Bryan caught the back of her neck and pulled her forward for a soft smooch. He forgot about covering the phone. “Me too, babe. Now get some clothes on before I forget my good intentions.”

He heard Joe’s laugh, then: “You, good intentions? She doesn’t believe that bodacious lie, does she?”

Bryan settled back against the headboard and watched Shay saunter out into the bathroom. “’Course she does.”

“Then she probably doesn’t know you that well.”

Taking into account the fact that she thought he was a preacher, Bryan could safely say she didn’t know him at all. “Probably not.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, all things considered, I suppose I should just spit this out.”

“Yeah?”

“Jamie thinks a woman is out to hurt you.”

He reacted to that idiocy more than he should have. His hand tightened on the phone, his vision narrowed. Hell, he didn’t believe in Jamie’s ability. Forget that he saw it firsthand, that everyone in the town of Visitation, with the exception of a few men, believed it.

But still the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a chill ran down his spine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Joe sighed. “I figured you’d be pissed. Here. I’ll let Jamie explain.”

“No!” Bryan jerked upright, away from the headboard. “I don’t want to talk to that damn nutcase—”

“Something isn’t right,” Jamie said in his soft, deep voice.

Bryan fell back. Hard. “Here we go.” From the little he’d seen of Jamie Creed during his trips to Visitation, once he started on his predictions, the best you could do was hear him out.

“I don’t have everything clear yet,” Jamie murmured with an air of mystery that few could master, “but you’re trusting a woman you shouldn’t, a woman who will betray you.”

As if summoned by Jamie’s words, Shay came back in. She’d splashed her face, leaving it slightly damp, and had her head tilted, untangling her long, fair hair with her fingers. She looked like an angel—a sexy, strong, wonderful angel.

Feeling his gaze, Shay smiled at Bryan, then bent and pulled on her panties.

Oh God, he had it bad. No way could Jamie mean Shay. Sure, Shay had secrets, but that was because of her poor background, her dysfunctional childhood…“Who?” Bryan demanded. Not that he believed anything Jamie said, but he wanted him to confirm that it wasn’t Shay.

“That’s just it. I don’t know. I wish I did. I was going to wait to contact you, but it felt…more powerful suddenly. As if things had escalated.”

Yeah, escalated into a screaming climax. Twice. An invisible fist squeezed Bryan’s heart, and still he said, “I don’t believe in mumbo jumbo.”

Insults never fazed Jamie. “You don’t have to believe. Just be careful.”

“I always am.”

“No. Not careful enough. In fact, lately you’ve been all but blind.”

Bryan
hated
insults. “Listen, you damn phantom—”

Joe said, “Forget it, he’s gone. You know how Jamie is. He says his piece, then goes off to contrive more ways to torment us.”

Bryan’s temper suddenly hit the ragged edge. “You don’t believe in him any more than I do, so why the hell did you call me?”

“Luna made me.” Joe sounded amused by that admission. “She does believe in Jamie. And she’s fond of you. I can’t have her worrying now, can I?”

Shay had her bra on and was busy slipping her arms into the sleeves of her shirt.

Bryan ate her up with his eyes. He would not start distrusting Shay based on bizarre warnings given by a man who seldom interacted with others. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah, right. But Bryan?”

“What?”

“Just in case Jamie’s right…”

Bryan groaned long and loud and exaggerated. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into that crap now, too?”

“No. But just in case, watch your back. And if you need me, for anything…well, I owe ya one, right? So just let me know.”

Bryan considered that offer, knew it was sincere, just as he knew he couldn’t ask for better backup than Joe, and he nodded. “Appreciate that, Joe.” And just to tweak him, he added, “Give my love to Luna.”

“Hell, no.” Joe hung up, leaving Bryan with a grin. Once he got things settled for his brother, maybe he’d take Shay to Visitation for a short vacation. If Jamie met Shay, he’d know she wasn’t a threat to anyone.

Fully dressed, Shay sat on the edge of the bed to slip on her sandals. “What was that all about?”

Bryan eyed her, wondered if he should tell her and thought,
Why not?
He was curious to see her reaction to Visitation’s living legend. Would she be a believer? Probably. “Down in Visitation, there’s this near-silent, mysterious guy named Jamie Creed. He’s idolized by the town, at least by the town women. He claims to have some sort of extrasensory perception.”

Her eyes widened with interest. “A psychic?”

“Sort of. I don’t really know much about how it works, except that, according to the women in the area, Jamie is a romantic specter who only comes down off his mountain when he has dire warnings that usually prove to be on the mark.”

Fascinated, Shay asked, “Is he handsome?”

“How the hell would I know?” The sound of police sirens swelled outside. It wasn’t uncommon in the area. Sirens could usually be heard most of the night.

Bryan pushed off the bed and located his jeans. It was past time he returned Shay to the safe house.

“Well, what’s he look like?”

Lifting one shoulder, Bryan said, “Tall. Dark. Shaggy hair and a beard. I guess he looks like a hermit, but his eyes are dark and intelligent. Nothing vague about him, except the idiotic stuff that spews out of his mouth.” Bryan zipped up his jeans and reached for his belt.

A furious pounding on the front door made them both jump. Shay twisted around. Bryan frowned.

And then Patti’s frantic, high-pitched voice reached them. “Preacher, Preacher! Come quick.”

“Oh, shit.” Barefoot and shirtless, Bryan raced out of the room.

Shay was right behind him.

Babbling, Patti said, “He showed up and he tried to grab Amy.”

“Who?” Bryan demanded, sticking close as Patti tromped back down the stairs.

“Freddie.” Between sobs, she said, “Morganna jumped him, but he hit her and then Barb called the cops and…and they’re already here, but there are other people, too.”

Bryan ran after her, not knowing what he might find but sure that it would be bad. He’d never seen Patti in such a state before. How badly was Morganna hurt? Amy had to be horribly upset. At least Barb had thought to call the police.

Patti shot out the front door and dashed across the yards, with Bryan and Shay following. It was dark outside, yet the front of the safe house was lit up with flashing police lights and the headlights from a white truck with some sort of logo on the side.

Ignoring that for the moment, Bryan anxiously counted heads as he approached.

He could see Barb and Morganna huddled together, neither of them seriously hurt. Amy was wrapped in a blanket next to a cop, and it appeared she was crying but unharmed. They were all safe, thank God.

Towing Shay in his wake, Bryan started toward the cluster of police officers. Two cops had Freddie sprawled out on the street so they could handcuff him. Another stood over him, a hand on his nightstick. Freddie resisted, cursing up a storm and making vile threats that no one heeded.

Another man in plain clothes stood off to the side, snapping photos of the drama, while another held a microphone, as if waiting his turn. It seemed almost surreal—and too easy to be true. He couldn’t easily accept that it was over, and he hadn’t even been involved.

Bryan turned to Shay to ask her opinion—and he caught her backing away.

“Shay?”

In a weak protest, she whispered, “I…I have to go back to your place.” She shook her hand loose from his.

Confused, Bryan saw that her face had gone deathly white and her eyes enormous. Worried, he again captured her hand, halting her retreat. Her fingers were icy. “Shay, everyone’s okay, honey. They’re arresting Freddie. It’s almost over.”

He tried to draw her into his arms, but she was trembling and backstepping. She stared at him and bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Bryan felt his spine stiffen. “For what, exactly?”

The guy with the camera started snapping photos, blinding them both with the flash.

Automatically, Bryan shoved Shay behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”

The microphone got shoved under his nose. “Are you the preacher?”

Bryan felt bizarre, standing there in nothing more than jeans, the cool evening air swirling around him, so many eyes suddenly watching him with regret, curiosity, even eagerness. It was like playing in some cornball play, without knowing his lines. “Yeah, so?”

The reporter looked beyond him to where Shay huddled. Bryan could feel her fast, warm breaths on his nape, feel her fingers clutching his bare shoulders. Thoughts of Jamie’s predictions came back, cramping his guts, filling him with an awful foreboding.

The click of the camera sounded like a gunshot. The flash blinded him.

“Is it true that you, the protector of retired prostitutes, are having an affair with the Crown Princess?”

The Crown Princess.
The absurd title reverberated through his head, making his brain throb while the photographer moved in for a better angle.
Snap, snap, snap.

Bryan started to deny the accusation, but nothing emerged from his mouth.

The microphone got passed behind him. “What do you say, Ms. Sommers?”

Sommers. Slowly Bryan turned to face her. Shay Sommers—the Crown Princess. A millionaire. A social butterfly. A woman who ran numerous charities—and had no real need to stay in a shelter.

Unless it was to serve her own ends.

The reporter pushed closer. “Are the hookers your newest project, or is the preacher?”

She shook her head.

“Are you two serious about each other?”