True Bliss (28 page)

"Most guys don't hire private eyes to make sure a woman doesn't step out of line."

"Not now, Vic," Bliss said. Sebastian knew—had known the man. A Mr. Nose who was a private investigator in Sebastian's employ. Later Bliss's anger over that would explode. For now sadness blunted any other feelings. When Maryan Plato had

spoken of a private detective, Bliss hadn't taken her seriously. That Sebastian would have her watched was unbelievable.

Vic wasn't deterred. "Hey, some poor bastard's dead because of this creep. I never did get it quite straight about you two, anyway. Old friends, is that right?"

"Yes," Sebastian said with an icy edge that scared Bliss. "Very old friends. And you rent one of Bliss's cabins, is that right?"

Vic gathered his hair in one hand and gave it a shake. "We aren't just landlady and tenants here. This is a community. Bliss has made a commitment to further the arts by providing peaceful, affordable refuge to deserving artists."

"You sound like a commercial," Sebastian commented. He was absolutely still. "I am not a jealous man."

"No? You just hire a snoop to watch Bliss for kicks? Take it from me, buddy, this is a lady who lives a squeaky clean life. She doesn't have a thing to hide. Not a thing for you to be worried about. As in, I never saw her with a man before you— except Rood, and that was a mistake she soon wised up to. And I never saw Rood coming out of her bedroom."

"Vic!" The morning's events had left Bliss shaken. She couldn't bear this bickering. "A tragedy happened here last night. Sebastian didn't want it anymore than you or I did. Could you please go back to Liberty? She's upset, too."

"And leave you with him? Bliss, you're a babe-in-the-woods. Jealous men are often violent men."

"How true," Sebastian said, his voice deceptively even.

Bliss shot to stand between the two men. "I've known Sebastian since we were kids, Vic. He is not violent. If you do care about me the way you say you do, please go home."

"Yeah, Vic. Go home."

"Sebastian!" She swung to face him. "Stop baiting him."

"I don't have to give an explanation to Vic, here, but for the record, I hired Nose to help me when I was trying to locate Bliss. We'd lost touch a long time ago. I intended to tell him I didn't need his services now, but things have been a bit hectic."

"Nice little story," Vic said.

Bliss thought, pat little story.

"The only story you're going to get," Sebastian said. "Now cut out."

A sand-colored Mercedes bumped down the potholed drive, paused in front of the police car, and veered sharply toward the lodge. It drew to a halt beside Sebastian's black pickup.

"Oh, no," Bliss moaned. "This is too much."

Morris Winters got out of the Mercedes, regarded the police car for too long, and slammed the heavy door of his car. Jutting his formidably square jaw, he strode toward his daughter with the purposefully sharp-eyed stare that had become his trademark. Hawk Winters, Eyes of the People, Eyes for the People.

Bliss had learned that her father's eyes looked only inward— toward himself, and whatever would serve his ambitions.

"Bliss," he said, bearing down on her. "Get rid of these two clowns. We've got to talk, my girl."

"Dad—"

Her father waved her to silence. "Still a complete mess," he said, sweeping his eyes over the cropped pink T-shirt and worn denim skirt she'd grabbed that morning. He curled his lip and pointed at Sebastian. "Plato?"

Vic said, "You know where to find me, Bliss."

She nodded, and managed to smile at him before he set off toward his cabin.

Sebastian and her father faced each other. "Damn you," Morris Winters said. "I recognize you from the paper. What's that doing here?" He indicated the police car.

"A man died here last night," Sebastian said succinctly. "The police think he tripped and fell at the edge of the bluff. Hit his head and died."

"Oh, my God." Morris pushed back his corduroy jacket and gripped his slim hips. Not a sandy hair was out of place. "The press will make something out of that, too."

"Daddy," Bliss said. "A man died. It's tragic. And that's what

you should be thinking, instead of worrying about how it'll affect you. Why are you here anyway?"

"Don't tell me how to react," he snapped. "You never did understand the score, did you? You've always had to make yourself a liability to me. Well, it's going to stop. Now."

"Make sure you don't hit my truck on your way out, Winters."

Bliss gaped at Sebastian.

Her father swept past them both and went into the lodge—and a familiar dark green limousine crawled onto the property. Masked in dark glasses and a red head-scarf, Maryan Plato got out before the chauffeur could come to her aid. The same shiny raincoat she'd worn on her last visit was in place, but this time her high-heeled shoes were red.

Sebastian crossed his arms and waited until she reached him. "What the hell are you doing here, Sis?"

"Trying to save you from yourself," she said, ignoring Bliss. She flapped a newspaper. "Have you seen this?"

"Bliss and I have already had a very long, very difficult day."

"There's a photo of you with all those bleeding-heart, save-our-children types screaming at you. She's in it." Maryan pointed the paper at Bliss. "That bitch O'Leary scored a great point. She said Bliss Winters is a rebel who'd do anything to hurt her father. She said she's deliberately hanging out with you to try to hurt his political career."

"Maryan. I want you to get back in that car and go home."

"Don't you tell me what to do," Maryan shouted. "Don't you understand the inference. She can hurt her daddy's career by being photographed with a man who lures nubile girls to their deaths, a man who feeds them like tadpoles to his shark buddies in the porno biz. She's using you."

A queasiness attacked Bliss's stomach. Her head buzzed.

"Notice she's not saying anything," Maryan pointed out. "What the paper doesn't say—because they don't know—is that she's paying you back for having the sense to duck out on her years ago. So don't fuck everything up now, Bro. We've been through too much to get where we are. What do you think you're

doing? Chasing your lost youth? You need some entertainment— real entertainment. I'll make sure you get some. Now, let's get out of this dump."

"Bliss!"

She heard Sebastian say her name and realized she'd clutched his sleeve. "Sorry." She started to let go, but he covered her hand on his arm.

Without replying to Mary an, Sebastian led Bliss inside the lodge. "You don't look good," he said, as if Morris Winters weren't pacing the shabby great room, and as if Maryan hadn't followed them into the building. "I want you to go upstairs to your room. I'll help your father calm down."

"Help me calm down!" Morris all but charged Sebastian. He halted inches in front of him, his hands opening and closing at his sides. "You upstart. You piece of trash. You are nothing. I know it and you know it. And if you don't gather up your marbles and get out of town I'm going to make sure you get kicked out of every game in the country. Do we understand each other?"

Bliss watched, paralyzed, as Sebastian narrowed the distance between himself and her father to a short breathing space. "I know who I am—and what I am. Do you know who and what you are, or would you like me to explain those details to you?"

"Get out of Washington State." Morris's voice had lost a trace of its certainty. He was a tall man, but not as tall as Sebastian. Suddenly Bliss's father seemed smaller than he ever had—and older.

"Darn it, Dad. You're making a fool of yourself—and me."

Her father turned an even darker shade of red. "Don't you ever speak to me like that, my girl."

"Bliss isn't a kid you can push around anymore," Sebastian said. "I'm here and I'm staying. I'm staying until I decide I don't want to stay anymore. And as long as Bliss is here that won't happen, so I guess you're going to have to get used to knowing we inhabit the same territory."

"I'll put you out of business." Morris saw Maryan. He stared at her. "Big sister to the rescue as usual?"

Sebastian eyed Maryan. "Have you two met before?"

"Not in the flesh"—Maryan showed her sharp little teeth— "fortunately. I called his office earlier and asked for a few words with the great man. I was told he wasn't in, but evidently he just wasn't in to me."

"You've got it, girlie."

Bliss sat down hard on the couch. "Girlie, Dad? For God's sake."

"Peddle your politically correct crap somewhere else, Bliss. And remember whose side you're on."

"Mine," Sebastian said calmly. "I'd have thought political correctness came pretty high up on your list."

Morris rolled from his heels to his toes and back. He sniffed. The color in his face notched down from puce to pink. "Okay. Okay, let's back off and calm down. Tempers got a bit out of hand for a moment there. We're reasonable men. Let's talk." A gesture of his left hand took in Bliss and Maryan. "Why don't you two gir— You ladies must have other things to occupy you. Run along. I'll say good-bye before I leave, Bliss."

She laughed. She couldn't help it.

No one laughed at Morris Winters. "Get a hold of yourself. Damn it, you were a difficult child and you're still difficult. You've got a lot of growing up to do. Good thing your aunt made sure you couldn't get your hands . . ." He twisted his neck inside his collar. "We'll talk about that later."

"Maybe you should talk about it now," Sebastian said, all silk.

Maryan met Bliss's eyes and the message was clear, / told you he wanted your money

"Dad," Bliss said. "Maryan can go where she pleases. This is my home and I'm not going anywhere."

Maryan started a slow hand-clap.

"Shut up," Sebastian said. "And either go to the office, or wherever you're supposed to be, or sit down and be quiet."

Morris's withering glance in Maryan's direction was a wasted effort. She took off her coat, left on the glasses and scarf, and arranged herself at the opposite end of the couch. A red tank

top clung to her breasts and pouted over her nipples. A matching, rib-knit skirt barely covered her panties—also red from where Bliss sat.

A police officer tapped the door and entered, taking his cap off as he did so. He nodded at Bliss, cast a speculative eye over Morris and Maryan, and beckoned to Sebastian. "Could I ask you to step outside, sir. Just one or two more questions have come up."

Maryan made to get up. A glance from Sebastian subdued her.

"Can we talk some sense now?" Morris asked when Sebastian had left the lodge. He spoke as if Maryan were absent or deaf. "Your mother took time out of a busy schedule to come and see you."

"Made her late for a hair appointment did I?"

"Don't put your mother down to me."

"Sorry." She wasn't.

"She told me what she found here. What happened."

When Bliss didn't respond, Maryan said, "What did happen?"

"Be quiet, or get out," Morris told her.

Bliss smiled sweetly and said, "Mother was a bit surprised when Sebastian came down from my bedroom—it was early in the morning and she has such a suspicious mind."

Maryan's already thin mouth all but disappeared.

"Disgusting," Bliss's father said. "A woman of your background fornicating with a—"

"That's enough," Bliss told him. "Don't talk about Sebastian like that. You don't know him."

"I don't want to." His eyes returned repeatedly to Maryan. "I didn't get your message until I'd already left to come here. If I'd known you'd called, I'd have made a point of speaking to you. Maybe you can help me sort out this mess."

Maryan crossed her legs.

The glimpse of red satin between her thighs wasn't wasted on Morris. "You left a number. Can I be forgiven for being an overbearing male? Will you allow me to call you later and discuss our common interests?"

Once Bliss would have wilted in the presence of her father's blatant sexual overtures to women other than her mother. At this point, his apparently flourishing appetite simply interested her—and disgusted her.

"We can talk," Maryan said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts with predictable results. "My brother is a hothead. He doesn't always think, but he's a helluva businessman—a natural—I'm sure he'll come around."

And she, Bliss thought, might as well be an annoying piece of wallpaper that needed to be hidden by a coat of fresh paint.

Sebastian returned with a deep frown line between his brows. "Are we finished, Mr. Winters? Yes, we're finished. Good. Have a great day."

Maryan rose from the couch and went through the pointless exercise of smoothing her almost nonexistent skirt. "I'll be at the office later this afternoon, Seb. We both need some time to cool down. Be there, will you? Around, ooh, four?"

"Bye, Sis."

"Four?"

"Bye, Sis."

Turning her mouth down, Maryan swept up her coat and flung it around her shoulders.

Pounding footsteps of the small, bare variety, made their way through the kitchen and exploded, with their out-of-breath owner, into the great room. "Sebastian!" Bobby yelled, and threw himself at his new favorite person. "Mom's coming. She wouldn't let me out till those police cars left. I wanted to come and see."

"Your mom knows best," Sebastian said, swinging the boy off his feet. He hiked a delighted Bobby onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around the child's legs. "This is my buddy, Bobby," he told Maryan, whose mouth appeared likely to remain permanently open.

Polly came into the room. At the sight of Maryan she stopped as if stunned.

"Hi, Polly," Bliss said, freshly angry at the memory of Maryan's previous callous behavior toward Polly. "Oh, I forgot

to ask how you made out when you called Raptor. Polly's a singer, Sebastian. She's very good. Needs the right break, like most people. Maryan told her to call someone called Zoya? She runs the talent agency for you? Maryan said Zoya would arrange for Polly to come in to see if there might be something Raptor could do for her."

Sebastian was staring at Maryan. "When would that have been? You were here before?"