The Trouble with Temptation (22 page)

Now, though, she could see that temper, hot enough to burn.

As he advanced on the sheriff, Neve groaned under her breath. “He’s going to get his ass thrown in jail. Ian…”

“I can try to talk him down, love, but chances are it will end with both of us getting our arses tossed in.” Ian looked grim.

Hannah gave them both a withering look. “The last thing we need is
more
testosterone out there.”

She braced herself, because this was so not going to be pleasant.

Neve reached for her hand, but she sidestepped. “He’ll listen to me or I’ll just punch him,” she said. And she was almost certain she meant it.

“I’ve tried that,” Ian said, stroking his beard. Then he winked at her. “Never worked well for me, but I’ve an idea it will work differently for you.”

She could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she resisted the urge to let it show. It was so not the time to smile. When she turned, she caught sight of Marc, sitting on the steps that led up to the winery and she wanted to go to him, hug him, tell him … tell him what?

That everything would be okay?

She’d be lying and she knew it.

She had a bad, bad feeling in her gut.

Instead of making empty promises and offering comfort that might not be welcome, she focused on the problem she could fix. Brannon was now in the sheriff’s face and his voice was at a bellow now, full of pure fury.

She reached out and tapped his shoulder.

He jerked his head around, words already trembling on his lips.

Cocking a brow, she said, “Yes?”

He snapped his jaw shut.

“This isn’t helping,” she said quietly. Nodding toward Marc, she added, “You think he needs to hear this right now?”

“What he needs is to know where Alison is,” Brannon said. He jerked his thumb toward the sheriff. “But the enterprising sheriff here seems to think we should wait until … oh, I don’t know … hell freezes over?”

Tank opened his mouth, his face bleeding to red.

Hannah cut him off. “Brannon, you dumbass. He’s got a job to do—there are lines he can’t cross.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he demanded, spreading his arms out. “Just wait until the good sheriff thinks he can safely investigate?”

“Brannon,” Tank said, his voice stiff. “I’m going to send a car out to her place and have somebody check on her. I already told you that. I—”

But Brannon was already walking away.

Hannah gritted her teeth and then jogged over to where he was talking to Neve.

“Yeah, I can hang a while,” Neve was saying, lifting a shoulder. She glanced up at Ian.

Ian nodded.

“Good. I don’t want Marc alone for a while, but I need to do something.” Brannon turned back and caught Hannah’s gaze. “Stay here.”

“Can’t.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ve got a job to do. I’ve got a shift at three. You were supposed to take me back to town, remember?”

“I…” He stopped, shoving a hand through his hair. “Hannah, just stay here!”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Either take me with you or I’ll call around until I get a ride, but I’m not hanging out here and twiddling my thumbs. Which one is it going to be?”

*   *   *

If there had ever been a woman as stubborn as Hannah Parker, Brannon didn’t want to meet her. But just as quickly as he had that thought, he was mentally shaking his head. He knew two women that stubborn—his sisters. They drove him crazy with it, too. And here he was, half-stupid over a woman who did the same thing.

“You realize the sheriff is going to have your ass for being out here.” Hannah climbed out of the car and looked around, shivering a little as the breeze blew in off the river. It was overcast and under the trees that surrounded Alison’s house, it was chillier than it had been for a while.

“He can’t really stop me, now can he?” Brannon bared his teeth in a smile. “He hasn’t declared her missing or done anything official yet. Right now, I’m just checking up on my employee. She hasn’t clocked in today. I’m not happy about that.”

He made an exaggerated show of checking his watch. “And she’s like three hours late now. Nope, not happy.”

Hannah just shook her head.

As he moved to the door, she fell in with him.

“It’s quiet out here,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” He glanced around, trying to pretend he didn’t feel uneasy. “Part of her job package was that I’d help her find a place. I’m covering her payments for a year. She saw this place and fell in love with it.”

Hannah made a
tsking
sound under her breath. “You McKays are just up for sainthood, aren’t you?”

“I wanted her to come and work for me. I called it a wise investment in my winery. She’s a great employee.” Brannon shrugged it away, a scowl on his face. He lifted a hand and started to bang on the door. The knock was loud, echoing through the silence. There was no answer. After a minute, he knocked again.

As they waited, he turned and stared at the car.

It sat in the driveway.

Narrowing his eyes, he studied the sunroof. It was partially open. “It rained last night, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He just shook his head. He took the steps on the porch in a leap. Hannah followed him and he could feel the weight of her curious stare as he moved toward the car. He didn’t try to open the doors—knowing his luck, Alison would have an alarm system. But he didn’t need to open the doors.

He peered inside the window and his gut went tight as he saw the water puddled on the console.

“She hasn’t been out since it rained.” Straightening, he looked back at the house.

“What are you…”

As he started back, he heard Hannah’s frustrated sigh. “Where are you going?”

“Taking a look around.” He debated telling Hannah to wait inside the car, but in the end, he decided he’d rather have her with him. Besides, she wouldn’t listen anyway, and they’d fight and waste time.

Together, they circled around, looking at the windows, the grounds. Brannon had no idea what he was looking for.

It was Hannah who saw it first.

She grabbed his arm, her nails biting into his arm. “Brannon. The window.”

He went still.

Dread, and a sick knowledge, twisted in him as he stared at the perfectly round hole in the window.

There was nothing else out of place.

But that hole …

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Hannah’s hand. He half-dragged her up to the back door and once they were there, he let go. “For the record, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a legit case for breaking down this door, but if you don’t want to come inside, then don’t.”

Hannah said nothing. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood there white-faced, but after a second, she gave a single, short nod.

He stared at the door for a moment and then took a few steps back.

It was surprisingly easy, but then again, Brannon was a big guy and he knew how to use the strength he had in his body. If he’d been a foot shorter and hundred pounds lighter, he probably would have bounced off the door.

It crashed open and immediately an alarm started to echo.

Hannah grimaced at the sound.

“Well, that’s going to get the cops out here,” she said sourly.

“Grab the phone,” Brannon said, nodding to it. “That’s the same people who handle our security. They’ll call. Tell them we found signs of forced entry. Tank is probably already heading here anyway. Alison!”

The phone started to ring.

Hannah answered it.

He barely heard what she said over the noise of the alarm and the sound of his own racing heart.

The kitchen was empty, neat as a pin.

The same for the living room, the hall, the bedroom.

The door to the bathroom was open, the light on. It was the only light on in the whole house.

He saw her right away.

He lunged forward, grabbing her out of the water.

Later, much later, he’d think about how cold the water had been.

Later, much later, he’d recall that Alison’s body had been just as cold.

Later, much later, he’d realize that she’d already been gone.

But all he could think at that moment was that she was laying in the water, her eyes open, her body still.

Distantly, he heard Hannah’s voice, sharp and clear, as he dragged Alison out of the water, as he put that cold, cold body on the ground.

“Move
back
!” Hannah shouted. Then she shoved him.

He went to snarl at her and then he stopped, remembering. “Help her,” he said. “You can help her.”

*   *   *

Oh, baby …

Hannah’s heart broke for him.

Brannon, he wanted to be everybody’s hero, wanted to save everybody, take care of everybody.

There was no helping Alison Maxwell, though.

Reaching up, she laid a hand on his cheek. “She’s gone, Brannon.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Get back. If…” He swallowed, like he was suddenly having a hard time speaking. “If you won’t do it, I will.”

She closed her eyes. “We’ll both try.”

Sometimes, you just had to try. Just so you knew you’d done something.

Aware that she had people shouting at her through the receiver, she lifted it to her ear. “We need the police, EMS, immediately. Ms. Maxwell is…”
dead
 … “There’s a medical emergency here. There were signs of forced entry and nobody answered so we broke in through the back door.”

As Brannon bent over Alison’s lifeless body, Hannah gave her name and assured them she’d keep the line open.

Then she went to her knees and tapped Brannon.

He was doing chest compressions.

Water bubbled out of Alison’s mouth.

“I’ll do the chest compressions,” Hannah said. “We’ll try.”

Brannon only nodded.

It was a relief that the county deputies weren’t far away.

It took only a few more minutes for the fire department to arrive. Brannon stepped aside only when the EMTs told them they’d take over. They shared a grim look with Hannah. She just gave a small shake of her head.

They knelt by Alison and checked her over while Hannah moved to block Brannon.

“Why aren’t they…”

She caught his arms. “Brannon, she’s gone.”

“No.” But the stubborn note was fading from his voice, replaced by something rough.

Lifting a hand, she laid it on his cheek. “Brannon, she’s been dead for hours, maybe longer. There’s nothing anybody can do for her now.”

Then a man came into the room.

Gideon Marshall, moving side by side with Tank.

The chief of police glanced her way, his eyes lingering on her before he looked back to the sheriff.

Well, no.

That wasn’t exactly true.

They could find who’d killed Alison.

They could make the son of a bitch pay.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

McKay’s Treasure wasn’t a town unknown to tragedy.

If one looked back far enough, they’d find that Treasure had been borne of it, was steeped in it, and like a phoenix, had risen from those ashes.

The man who’d bought a piece of land to build a home for his young Quaker wife hadn’t known he’d started what would become an empire. He also hadn’t known that when he’d agreed to patrol the Mississippi for river pirates that one day, the very men who’d hired him would turn on him and he’d end up hanging from the end of a rope.

Patrick McKay had founded McKay’s Treasure. He’d bought the property that would eventually become McKay’s Ferry, the jewel of his family’s crown, and the land around it would eventually become McKay’s Treasure, a tribute to the man who’d sacrificed all for love and for honor.

Save for a few poor farmers, not many had lived in this area.

He’d fallen in love with the river—next to his beloved Madeleine and the children she’d given him, the river was the great love of his life.

He’d made his fortune on that river, but as his family grew, his wife had wanted him home. Unable to deny her, he’d done as she’d asked.

McKay’s Ferry, still called that to this day, had been an anomaly almost from the beginning. Madeleine Garrett had shocked her family when she’d fallen in love with a swaggering Scot. She’d told him she’d follow him anywhere and he’d promised he’d make her happy. He’d done just that, too. They’d gone south, and she’d told him that he’d never own a man or woman—if he wanted work done on his property, he’d hire people, and pay them. Quakers abhorred the practice of slavery. Patrick, a man who’d made his fortune with his own two hands, understood the value of working for a day’s pay and more, he’d do whatever his beloved wife wanted.

It was because of her that he said yes when he was asked to return to the river.

It wasn’t new to have river pirates terrorizing merchants on the Mississippi. It wasn’t new to have them murder the occasional traveler. But a local band of pirates had become too bold, daring onto land. A family a half day north of Ferry was found slaughtered and the only way they learned of their fate was when the fourteen-year-old daughter was found on the shore. She’d been thrown overboard after the pirates had tired of her.

They hadn’t realized she could swim.

When a second family was attacked, it was clear that the pirates wouldn’t desist.

They would have to be stopped.

Patrick McKay was the man chosen to take charge of the task. Within a year, he and his men had hunted down and executed two separate bands of pirates. They’d then gone on to deal with those who had been terrorizing the merchant crews.

Patrick took his job seriously. He’d been hired to deal with pirates and that was just what he’d done.

But some of those pirates he’d taken out had … employers. Wealthy men who’d actually been making money off the merchants and travelers. A great deal of merchandise moved up and down the Mississippi, everything from food to slaves and thanks to McKay, some of those who’d been making money off the wares were now not getting the money they’d come to expect.

It might have all gone away, except McKay was told he’d done well enough and he could go home.

Well enough? There are still people being robbed blind, still people dying,
he’d said.
Children being stolen from their homes while their mothers die hearing their cries for help. And ya call this done? It is not done!