Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (14 page)

“He’s always neurotic.” Brett grinned at
her. His grin started with his lips tipping up to reveal white
teeth, travelled to his twinkling eyes which crinkled at the
corners, and finished with a tilt of his head. God, the man was
gorgeous, not drop-dead like Tyler, or movie-gorgeous like Bruiser,
but gorgeous like a real man, rugged and masculine. A man a girl
could depend on, lean on, and trust to have her back. A true
gentleman.

Only then did Estie notice Tyler’s shrewd
gaze narrowing as if assessing both of them. Her brother’s jaw
tightened, and he frowned.

Leaping to the rescue, Lavender grabbed
Tyler’s hand and pulled on it. “You promised me a dance.”

“On crutches?”

“You can manage. You’re an athletic guy.
We’ll slow dance.”

With one more sharp glance at Estie and
Brett, Tyler followed Lavender to the postage-stamp dance floor and
pulled her into his arms. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to have
completely forgotten about his sister and Brett as he buried his
face in Lavender’s hair and nuzzled her neck.

“They’re good together, which still
surprises me.” Brett rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to
Estie.

“I used to wonder why she put up with him,
but then I realized that they have this weird give and take going
and are crazy about each other. I’ve never seen Ty like this with a
woman, not even with his old girlfriend, Cass.” Cass and Ty had
broken up and gotten back together too many times to count, as if
addicted to the make-up sex.

“He pretty much worships her, doesn’t
he?”

Estie nodded. “Yeah, he does. I just hope he
makes an honest woman out of her soon before she gets tired of his
unwillingness to make that final commitment.”

“Yeah, what is up with that?”

“I’m not really sure, but whatever it is,
all three of us seem to have the same affliction.”

Brett glanced down at her ring. “But you’re
getting married.”

“Yeah. I am. The first Harris to parachute
from the plane and take the dive.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

“Pre-wedding jitters. Richard and I still
have some things to iron out. Like the animals.”

“The animals are a problem?”

“He doesn’t like animals much, but he’s
trying.”

“You’re marrying a man who doesn’t like
animals?” Brett stared at her as if she’d just told him she’d
fallen in love with a serial killer.

“Weird, huh? He’ll grow to like them. His
family didn’t allow pets when he was growing up. He just needs to
adjust to them.”

Brett’s skeptical expression said it all. He
didn’t believe her line of bullshit any more than she believed it
herself.

“Yeah, right.” He started to say something
else when Lavender and Tyler rejoined them. That was the last of
their private conversation that evening, but Estie couldn’t stop
stealing little glances at Brett. And when his eyes met hers on
several occasions, it wasn’t a just glance he stole but little
pieces of her malnourished heart.

* * * * *

Rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, Brett
stood on his father’s front porch and stared at the closed door for
a long time. He raised his fist to knock then lowered it. This was
stupid. Either he was a coward or an idiot, take your pick. He
brought his hand up again and rapped, a strong, confident rap which
contradicted the insecurities battering his insides.

He shifted from one foot to the other,
leaning slightly toward the window next to the door, but he
couldn’t see anyone inside, yet he thought he heard a TV.

He’d been stupid to come here, yet he had
anyway.

His stepmother opened the door, looking
every inch the harried housewife, as usual. The women in his family
wallowed in drama and self-pity as if emotions were the only things
worth living for. She looked him up and down without a word, not
the least bit surprised and not happy to see him, as if she didn’t
give a shit about him one way or another. She probably didn’t.
She’d been the only mother he’d had since he’d been five, but she’d
never been much of a mother to him or his two siblings. He felt a
familiar pinch to his insides whenever he thought of his real
mother. He had only fleeting memories of being held in her lap as
she read him a story, of the smell of her lilac perfume mingled
with the scents of a hospital as the cancer slowly ate away at her
body. To this day he couldn’t handle the smell of either.

“Your father’s in the family room.” Anne
Gunnels pointed in the general direction as if Brett didn’t know
where the family room was. He’d lived in this little house all of
his childhood.

Anne turned her back on him and disappeared
in the direction of the kitchen. Gathering his courage and stuffing
his uncertainties in a duffle bag, he walked down the short, narrow
hall, past faded pictures of his family—but not one of him in
recent years.

Brett found his father sitting in his
recliner watching ESPN. Some things never changed.

“Hey, Dad.” Brett waited for his father to
acknowledge him.

Nothing. Jerry Gunnels stared straight
ahead, not even blinking. No reaction at all to seeing his son for
the first time in months. Brett shouldn’t have been surprised, but
it hurt just the same.

He entered the room and sat down on the
couch, feigning interest in the TV, but not really seeing it. Every
second that passed the silence grew more awkward until Brett
couldn’t stand it anymore. “Dad, I’m going to be a starting
quarterback in the playoffs.” As if his father, a sports addict,
didn’t know that fact already.

Jerry grunted and took a swig of his
beer.

Brett pressed on. He hadn’t come here to
succumb to cowardliness. “I have a pair of tickets. Fifty-yard
line. I thought you and one of your cronies might like them.” Brett
fished the tickets out of his jeans and held them out to his
father.

Jerry yawned, not once taking his eyes off
his flat screen. “I don’t need your damn tickets.”

Brett forced a smile on his face, even as
the turmoil rose inside him, and he swallowed down the bile. “I’d
like you there.” He’d put himself out there, and now he held his
breath, waiting for an answer.

Jerry’s gaze swung to Brett. He narrowed his
eyes and rubbed his chin. “Why the hell would I want to watch you
embarrass the hell out of me? You have no more business starting in
a playoff game than I would living in a mansion on Mercer
Island.”

Brett’s smile hurt his face, but he wouldn’t
let his father know how much his words bludgeoned the hope right
out of him. “Are you ever going to forgive me, Dad?”

“You made your choices, even though you knew
how I felt about it. You’ve never been anything but a
disappointment, full of unfulfilled promises and ruined
expectations. You couldn’t even be seen with us at Christmas dinner
then you show up today flashing around your tickets like some
fucking king.”

“I just thought you’d like them.”

“Take your damn tickets and find some other
sucker who might want them, but that sucker is not me.”

Holding his head high and his spine
straight, Brett left the house. His stepmother watched him go as
she wrung her hands in the doorway.

His dad wallowed in his bitterness and
self-pity. Every damn thing that ever happened to Joe had been
someone else’s fault. He wanted to drag his kids down with him,
finding something bad in every good thing that ever happened to
them.

A fog of negativity hung over the entire
house. Brett had escaped years ago, yet his father’s rejection and
disapproval shaped who he was despite his attempts to separate
himself and pretend not to care.

He’d been stupid to come here, stupid to
think his father would be proud of him. Hell, he’d never been proud
of Brett, not one damn bit.

Old doubts tried to crowd out the good
things, and Brett refused to fall prey to them.

Estie believed in him, his teammates
believed in him, and he believed in himself.

That would have to be enough.

* * * * *

Estie scratched her head, which pounded from
frustration. What the hell was going on? This could not be
happening. Not to her. She always accounted for every penny, yet
she’d found even more money missing, and she couldn’t find the
discrepancy.

She stood and stretched, glancing at the
time displayed on her computer. Eight thirty p.m. No wonder she was
stiff and tired. She’d been at it for hours.

Richard had left late that afternoon to
golf, and their administrative assistant was her usual punctual
self, walking out the door at five o’clock exactly.

She rested her forehead against the cool
window pane and sighed. About an hour ago a horrible suspicion had
started in the pit of Estie’s gut and worked its way up to her
brain. She could no longer deny the obvious. Money was missing, not
just from Tyler’s accounts but an alarming amount from Richard’s
parents’ accounts, too—accounts she usually left to Richard to
manage. Only two people had the means to get their hands on that
cash. She knew it wasn’t her. That left one other person.

Estie’s mind raced back through all the red
flags she’d refused to acknowledge: Richard’s recent spending
sprees, including an expensive trip to a number of exclusive golf
courses and his new sports car. His recent obsession with yacht
shopping. Sure, they both made good money, but not that kind of
money. Not yet. Not with just two main clients.

Not to mention Richard had made some risky
investments she hadn’t known about. She had to assume he’d hidden
the fact because he’d known she’d veto them if she’d made her usual
careful evaluation of the investments before he’d gone ahead.

The effect on Tyler’s investments was
minimal. Not so Richard’s parents. She hoped against hope he had a
logical explanation for the missing money.

An hour later, she’d unearthed the real
truth. All doubt was wiped away as she went through Richard’s files
and computer, finding records of private bank accounts and money
transferred from his parents’ investments to those accounts.

She couldn’t avoid the inevitable any
longer,

She punched in the number for Richard’s
cell, catching him still at the club hanging out with his cronies.
No surprise there. “We need to meet.”

“Okay.” He sounded hesitant, as if he’d
picked up on the steel in her voice. “First thing in the
morning?”

“No, now. Tonight. I’m at the office.”

A long silence. “What are you doing there so
late?”

“Researching discrepancies in our books.”
She shouldn’t have clued him in and kept her advantage with the
element of surprise, but she was too angry. “How could you do this,
Richard?”

“I can explain.” He threw her off guard by
not denying anything. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

She hoped to God he could explain, but she
didn’t see how. She knew in her heart of hearts Richard was guilty.
She looked around his office, everything carefully designed to
exude wealth and success. He stomach curled in a knot. It was all
an illusion. All of it. And despite her attention to detail, she’d
missed all the warning signs, blew them off, blindly believed
everything was okay.

She’d always suspected Richard held secrets,
had dark places she’d known nothing about, but his secrets didn’t
fit in her plan so she’d pushed them out of the way and ignored
anything that messed with her carefully constructed illusion.

Estie paced for close to an hour until
Richard finally showed up with his father, Gary, in tow. Both men
wore grim expressions. Estie followed them into the conference
room, surprised Richard had come clean to his father, assuming they
were going to do damage control.

As far as she was concerned the damage was
done, not just financially, but to her ability to trust him ever
again.

Both men sat down across for her, and their
expressions put her at high alert. The situation felt wrong. Two
men against one woman. If Richard had confessed what he had done to
his father, why did they look like “united we stand, divided we
fall”?

She studied each of them. The speech she’d
been composing in her head for the past hour stuck in her throat.
Her instincts warned her that something wasn’t the way it seemed.
Before she could get the words out, Gary spoke.

“Richard told me everything.” Gary sat back
and crossed his arms over his chest. “Frankly, I’m beyond
disappointed. I’m shocked.”

“I understand.” Estie shot a glance at
Richard, expecting him to shrivel up as he showed some guilt,
remorse, even be a bit sheepish. Instead, he glared at her as if
this mess were her fault.

“Then you understand that this partnership
is dissolved.”

Estie nodded. No shit, Sherlock.
“Absolutely. I’m taking my brother’s investments and leaving this
firm.”

“You’ll never work in finance again. I’ll
see to it.” Gary’s accusing glare set her back in her seat.

Estie frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Me?
What are you talking about?” She turned to Richard, whose smug
smile should’ve clued her in.

“Consider yourself lucky that we don’t go
after you for the embezzled funds. You can thank Richard for that.
He convinced me to keep this out of the press and the courts, but
if you try to take on even one client, we’ll nail your ass. If your
brother decides to keep you on, that’s his problem, not ours.”

Estie’s shock turned to red-hot anger. She
stood, braced her hands on the table and leaned over both men. “You
are fucking crazy. I didn’t steal a damn thing. There were only two
of us with the accesses to do this, and it wasn’t me.”

Estie whipped out the proof, reams of paper
with red highlighting all the issues. The paper had made it more
permanent than looking at it on a screen, which was why she’d taken
the time to print all of it. She pushed the papers across the table
to his father. Gary gave it a cursory glance and shoved the
paperwork off to the side. Estie stared from one to another,
knowing she’d walked into a trap but ready to fight for what was
right.