A Rare Chance (25 page)

“Blackmail hurts.”

“Is Joshua Reading an innocent person?”

Gabriella could feel Cam watching her as she dragged a can of iced tea out of the refrigerator, found a glass on an open shelf, filled it with ice, and added the tea. “You're not justifying blackmail, are you?”

“Of course not. Say Darrow has reason to believe Joshua was going to stay out of reach of the legal system and get away with buying illegal weapons. I can see Darrow rationalizing blackmail as a way of helping society, a sort of vigilante justice.”

Gabriella sipped her iced tea, welcoming its sweetness, its refreshing coldness. “And it also just happens to be a way of lining his own pockets.”

Cam's eyes stayed on her. “Wanting money and vigilante justice—neither's an excuse for blackmail.”

“I've always had a pragmatic attitude toward money,” Gabriella said, “but a lot of people don't. It's a way of measuring their self-worth. I guess it's easier to say money isn't everything when you're sitting on a mountain of it, but even when Scag and I were broke, barely knew where our next meal was coming from, we didn't feel like failures. Money was simply a means.”

“But you left that life,” Cam pointed out.

“For stability, not just to make money and have stuff. Anyway, we're talking about you and Pete Darrow. He resent you for being rich?”

“You're sure I'm rich?”

“I'd say it's a safe bet.”

He shrugged. “I have this place and a moderate trust fund that supplements my income, but I've never been as wealthy as Pete wants to believe.”

“Are you worth more or less than Joshua Reading?”

“Probably less.”

Gabriella raised her eyebrows. “Probably?”

Cam laughed. “You're the MBA, Gabby. I'm just a cop who did night law school. My financial statements come in, I toss them in a drawer.”

“Horrors.” She came around and sat up on the bar stool beside him, turning sideways so that her knees grazed his thighs. “If Darrow thought you were so rich and was going to frame someone so he could blackmail him and make some money, why not you?”

Cam looked around at her. “Maybe because I'm his friend.”

“He pulled a gun on you, Cam.”

“But he didn't shoot me,” he said, sliding off the stool and settling himself between her knees. He touched a knuckle to her cheek, drew it along her temple into her hair. “I'm sorry about Lizzie. I hope she comes out of this thing okay.”

Gabriella nodded. “I do too.”

“How about you? Are you okay?”

“Right now I am.”

“You're not one to fall apart in a crisis,” he said gently. “We'll find Lizzie, Gabriella. I'll pull in a few favors if I have to and get us some help.”

“I've marked the places in her journal that mention guns. If it's enough to take to the police…”

She shut her eyes a moment, debating pulling away from him. She could have done it. He wouldn't have stopped her. But she didn't pull away. She didn't want to. She wanted to feel his body close to hers. She wanted to envelope herself with his presence, trust herself with him. She wasn't Lizzie. She could maintain her identity, her independence, her dignity, with a man.

“I promised Lizzie I wouldn't open her package, but that's not your promise. I don't want to compromise you. If there's something in Lizzie's journal you need to take to the authorities, I'll understand.”

“I'll look at the passages in the morning. We don't need to do anything tonight.”

“If I only knew where to look for her.”

“Gabriella.”

She loved the way he said her name. His voice alone could make her want him.

“Don't beat yourself up,” he said. “You can't help your friend and I can't help mine unless they want our help. We can only do the best we can.”

“I know. But if my best isn't enough—”

“Then you have to live with it.”

She nodded, then smiled at him. “I'm glad you're here, you know. If Darrow hadn't knocked Scag in the head, the two of us would probably be—well, who knows?”

“You'd probably be in jail. I can see the two of you marching up to Joshua Reading and ripping his head off—figuratively speaking, of course—for what he did to Lizzie and him having you both arrested. Act first, think later. The Scagliotti
modus operandi.”

“Scag's far worse than I am.” Gabriella slipped her arms over Cam's shoulders, sliding off the stool. “Can you say my name again?”

He smiled and said it just as his mouth found hers.

She sank against him, instantly aroused by the feel of his lips, his tongue. She responded to his tenderness, his earthiness, his need. After reading Lizzie's tortured descriptions of her relationship with Joshua, she found Cam's presence reassuring.

“I'd never deliberately hurt you,” he whispered. “I can't imagine it.”

She drew herself to him, feeling the extent of his own arousal. He brought his arms around her, settled his palms just above her bottom. She believed him. He would get no sexual thrill from causing her pain. He wanted her in a way that was right, that made the physical desire she felt for him something she needn't fear.

And she did want him.

Raising one hand, she touched the stubble of beard along his jaw. “You're about the sexiest man I've ever met, Cam Yeager. Cop, prosecutor, governor's son—it doesn't matter what you are.”

He grinned at her. “What do you mean,
about
the sexiest?”

She laughed, and it felt good. “All right. You're by far the sexiest man I've ever met.”

He eased his palms up to the small of her back. “Better.”

“Should I be surprised you want me?”

“Uh-uh.”

“It's not just because I'm female and here?”

“The any-warm-body-will-do school of thought? No, ma'am.” His arms tightened around her. “I quit thinking like that at about age nineteen. And you know better. You know damned well you're sexy as hell yourself.”

“When I want to be,” she said, teasing.

He shook his head, amused. “Sorry, Gabby, even when it's the last thing you want. That day at Fanueil Hall, for instance.”

She scoffed. “I wasn't the least bit sexy then.”

“You were.”

“Only because you have a vivid imagination.”

“Only,” he said, his mouth drawing closer, “because I'm a trained, skilled observer, and because there's something about you and me together that just works.”

He kissed her lightly, lifting her off her feet at the same time. She just draped her arms over his shoulders and went with him, let him half carry her into the living room. There, not at all to her surprise, he sat on the thick rug amidst his battered leather furniture, pulling her down with him, so that she was on top of him, straddling him. She started to laugh, but her shirt had ridden up and he seized the moment, slipping his hands up under it. He coursed his palms up her back.

She inhaled. Yes, something about them together did work.

She helped him get her shirt off, her bra, and when she scooted out of her jeans, he scooted out of his, until, at last, they came together, in the same position as before: she on top, straddling him; he underneath, smoothing his hands up her back. Only this time there was no clothing to impede progress, or to hide the extent of his arousal, or hers.

He covered her breasts with his palms but didn't linger, skimming them back down her stomach, leaving every inch of skin tingling in their wake. But he never hesitated. He must have sensed there was no need. His palms settled on her hips. His fingers dug in slightly as he lifted her, probing, thrusting, until he found the soft, moist place. He inhaled deeply as he pushed her down onto him, melding their bodies.

Nothing—not even their previous lovemaking—could have prepared Gabriella for the explosion of feelings and sensations that spiraled through her, one after the other, robbing her of breath, of thought, as she set the pace for their lovemaking. There was no keeping her distance from them. No holding back. No analyzing. So she gave herself up to them. Trusted them. Trusted
herself.

At the last, climactic explosion, she heard herself cry out.

Cam held her lightly, encouraging her to respond to him, to her own body, without inhibition. But in another moment he was responding himself, his own pounding need and desire taking over.

Later, when they were still clinging to each other, fighting for breath, Gabriella said, “I've never—that's the first time I've cried out like that.”

He gave her a wry look. “Not used to making love on the floor, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Well,” he said, sliding one hand up along the curve of her hip, “would you like to do it again?”

She smiled. “I do believe I would.”

W
hen Gabriella arrived back at her apartment the next morning, she found Titus Reading waiting for her on her front stoop. Mercifully, Cam had gone off on his own, to call in favors and hit up sources and maybe take another look for Joshua Reading's rumored weapons arsenal, he'd said without elaborating. Just as well. She didn't know how she'd have explained him to her boss. She didn't know how to explain him to herself, much less anyone else.

Her order of business for the morning included making a second copy of Lizzie's journal to put in a safety-deposit box, watering her orchids, buying new locks for her door, and calling Lizzie's parents in Palm Beach and any other friends and family she could think of who might have an idea of her whereabouts. She was convinced Lizzie wasn't anywhere near Paris. She'd already called Scag to check on his health. He'd given her precise instructions on what to do with the orchids. Never mind Lizzie, never mind Pete Darrow, never mind
her.
Just make sure the orchids didn't suffer from his inattention. He'd sounded good. Energetic, cranky, alive.

Before the orchids, however, came Titus Reading.

He trotted down the steps. He looked energetic and capable but not sociable. “There you are. I was just about to give up on you. You're out early.”

“Force of habit.” Not, she thought, that spending the night with Cam Yeager was a habit.

Titus didn't smile. “I'd like to talk to you, Gabriella. It's important. May I come in?”

“Of course.”

Deeply aware of the manila envelope containing Lizzie's journal tucked under her arm, Gabriella led Titus up to her fourth-floor apartment. He commented on the building's architecture and the pleasant weather following last night's rain, giving away nothing of his purpose in coming to Marlborough Street. In her year at TJR Associates, Titus Reading had never paid her a personal visit.

She offered him a seat in the living room and gave the place a quick scan for any of the ruckus that had occurred there yesterday. Pros like Cam Yeager and Pete Darrow might have picked up on something incriminating, but she saw nothing. And Scag, at least, wasn't up on the roof this morning.

“Can I get you coffee?” she asked.

“No. Thank you, I'm fine. Please, sit down.”

She did so, sliding right to the edge of her overstuffed sofa. She was jittery, confused, worried. She needed time alone to sort things out, to
think.
Had Titus come here to fire her? Because he suspected his brother was a creep? But she was getting ahead of herself. One thing at a time.

“Gabriella,” he said gravely, his blue eyes pinned on her, “I want you to tell me about Cameron Yeager.”

“Cam Yeager?”

“That's right. Why did you involve him in affairs that are none of his business or, when it comes right down to it, yours?”

She bit down on her lower lip. “What do you mean?”

As an attempt to buy time, it was trite and lame, and she knew herself well enough to know she'd never manage to look innocent. Titus leaned back in his chair, his eyes not leaving her. “All right. We'll play this your way if you insist. Cam Yeager is Pete Darrow's former partner. Remember? We discussed him before the dinner announcing Joshua and Lizzie's engagement.”

“Governor Yeager's son, right? Yes, I remember.”

Titus glared at her, incredulous, but his tone remained brisk and businesslike. “Apparently he and Darrow had a falling out when he quit the police department to join the D.A.'s office. It seems Yeager has a personal vendetta against Darrow. I don't suppose,” he went on coldly, “this is ringing any bells with you?”

Gabriella cleared her throat. A personal vendetta? Where had that tidbit come from? “Is this information from Pete Darrow?”

“No, it's from my brother. Cam Yeager threatened him yesterday up on Reading Point. Pete Darrow says Yeager's using you to try and ruin him. My brother and Lizzie Fairfax seem caught in the crossfire.”

“Why would Cam Yeager want to ruin Darrow? They were partners.”

“I'm here for answers, Gabriella. I have plenty of questions of my own.”

Gabriella hadn't witnessed what transpired between Cam and Joshua Reading yesterday afternoon, but she could certainly believe that Cam, having just come from an old man being assaulted, would have been in no mood for anything but straight answers. He could have threatened Joshua. But she had also read Lizzie's journal. If Lizzie's portrayal of Joshua's character—his
private
character if not his public one—was on target, Gabriella could easily believe he had exaggerated Cam's threat to make himself look aggrieved, the victim.

And Pete Darrow would do whatever he had to do to cover for himself, including lie to both Reading brothers about why Cam Yeager was on his case.

She met Titus's hard gaze, wishing she hadn't let him inside. “I can understand your concern, but I'm not sure exactly what you think I've done. So far as I'm concerned, Pete Darrow's out of control. He's followed me, he's followed Lizzie, he's beat up my father—”

Titus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I said.”

“Are you sure? Or is your judgment being influenced by Cam Yeager? I think he's using you, Gabriella. I think he's skewing your perceptions. He's convinced you that whatever he's doing is perfectly righteous and necessary and fair. My brother has undergone a terrible ordeal and doesn't need this added complication of some feud between two ex-cops. And I think,” he said, getting to his feet, “that you know where Lizzie Fairfax is and won't tell.”

Gabriella took a breath to counter the tensing of her muscles, the indignation building up inside her. “Titus, I know this is a difficult situation for everyone, and I'm not defending Cam Yeager or Lizzie. But I doubt any of us would have wanted Lizzie to continue her engagement to Joshua if she had second thoughts. Perhaps she could have handled things better—”

“Perhaps?”

She sighed. “Okay, she could have. But we don't know what was going on in her head.” Of course, Gabriella did. And she knew why Cam Yeager had it in for Pete Darrow and maybe for Joshua Reading as well. Guns. Blackmail. Just what Titus Reading would want to hear about before his second cup of coffee. “I don't think anyone's served by looking for victims and perpetrators here.”

Titus, however, wasn't ready to relent. “Then explain Cam Yeager.”

“I can't, except I know he didn't have anything to do with Lizzie's leaving.”

“Just explain his involvement, Gabriella.
Your
involvement with him. Joshua's sure he saw you two together on Reading Point yesterday after his encounter with Yeager. Why haven't you mentioned him? You've violated my trust in you. I demand to know why.”

She closed her eyes a moment, feeling the first twinges of a headache. When Titus left, she'd have coffee on the roof all by herself and not think about anything. She'd regroup. Then she'd tackle what she had to tackle, which right now looked as if it would include looking for a new job.

What would Titus Reading do if she told him she'd just come from Cam Yeager's bed?

She opened her eyes. “I met Cam Yeager a couple of weeks ago. He was following Pete Darrow, who was following me.”

Titus dropped back into his chair, not relaxing. “Go on.”

“I didn't know who Darrow was at the time or what he wanted with me. When I realized he and Cam had been partners, I thought he could give me some insight into Darrow's behavior.”

Titus's eyes narrowed on her, some of his hostility easing. “Why didn't you come to me?”

“At first I didn't know he worked for you and Joshua. When I found out, I just hoped it'd all blow over and I wouldn't have to say anything.”

“Obviously you were wrong.”

“Obviously.” She chose her words carefully; she didn't want to give the impression she was a hysterical ninny, and she certainly didn't want to get into Joshua and Lizzie's bizarre relationship. “Look, I know I should have told you Lizzie had brought my father up to Boston, and maybe I should have told you about Pete Darrow and Cam Yeager. I know you must be angry and disappointed and worried. But right now I'm doing the best I can. I don't know where Lizzie is, I don't control Cam Yeager, and I don't know what Pete Darrow's game is.”

Titus propelled himself to his feet once more. He moved to the middle of the room, restless, frustrated, then spun back around to face her. She wondered if, deep down, he suspected his younger brother had some serious problems, problems that went beyond having hired a loose cannon to improve his security and having a fiancée hit the road on him.

“Did you ever once consider that Pete Darrow's job is to provide security for Joshua and myself and perhaps he was just doing that when he followed you?”

Gabriella sank back against the sofa, her headache blossoming. “That's what he told me. Is it true? You put him up to following me?”

“I didn't, no. I don't have my employees followed. I am merely suggesting that Pete Darrow could have been taking thoroughness to the extreme and investigating you on his own. With that attempted kidnapping still unresolved…Well, I really wish you'd have come to us with your concerns.”

“Maybe I should have. But I didn't.”

“No,” he said, “you didn't.”

He walked to the living-room window and stared down at the street, his back straight and rigid. After last night's rain, the skies had cleared; it was a warm, stunning day. Gabriella could think of dozens of ways she could have enjoyed it.

“You've been an important part of our team, Gabriella.” Titus spoke without turning back to her, as if transfixed by something down on the street. “I value all you've done for the company.” He turned back to her, looking pained. He was a handsome man, hard-working, of the highest integrity so far as Gabriella knew, but he also tended to be unforgiving and somewhat rigid. But he knew himself; he had hired her in part to offset his conservative tendencies. He spoke softly, intently. “But don't force me to choose between you and my brother, because you'll lose.”

“I understand.”

His eyes bored through her. “I hope you do.”

Judicious for a change, Gabriella said nothing. She and Titus had worked closely together for a year, had shared the same goals and values when it came to TJR Associates, and had accomplished a great deal. She respected him and had learned from him, and she'd worked hard for his company.

And she'd lied to him.

Was lying to him even now.

She walked with him to the door. There was so much she hadn't told Titus Reading. But she expected he knew it. He knew it quite well.

 

Joshua Reading was in a rage and Darrow was tired of listening to him. They were on the deck of his house on Reading Point, the wind blowing hard and cold off the water. Joshua hadn't lasted the morning at the office. Couldn't concentrate. Big brother was driving him crazy. Too much to be in there with Lizzie and her journal missing. Now he'd just gotten off the phone with Titus, who'd been asking questions about his new security chief and his tactics. Getting nosy.

“Well, that's big brothers,” Darrow said.

“I don't give a fuck. He can goddamned well leave me the fuck alone!”

Raging. Covering the same ground over and over. Darrow had tried bringing him back to the point: Where was Lizzie, what was she up to? No luck. Of course, Joshua was that much more testy because Darrow hadn't mentioned he'd recovered Lizzie's journal.

But Darrow had had enough. In the middle of one of Joshua's rants, he about-faced and walked off the deck.

Joshua lunged, not touching him. Not even meaning to touch him. If he had, Darrow wasn't sure what he'd have done.

“All right,” Joshua said, breathing deeply, raking both hands through his hair. “I'm done. I'm sorry. I—the strain just got to me, that's all.”

Darrow turned back to him, thinking of Lizzie Fairfax and her honey hair and gold-flecked green eyes and her screams of pain. The bastard had betrayed her love for him. “You're scum, Reading. Hell, you're not even
that
good. I could toss your stinking ass in the ocean and smile while doing it, smile for days.”

Joshua gave him a grim look of defeat, even resignation. “I don't expect someone like you to understand me. In fact, I don't expect anyone to understand. I accepted that a long time ago. I thought Lizzie did.” He sighed, feeling sorry for himself, his body limp with spent rage. “Well, that's over now. We need to find her.” His voice was hoarse from ranting. “And we both know it, don't we?”

Darrow resisted hitting him. “Yeah, I guess we do. Mind if I get back to work?”

“Not at all.” The supercilious sarcasm was there, never mind the hoarseness, the defeat. Darrow could hear it, could feel it crawling up his spine. “This Cameron Yeager, Darrow: I hope you're planning to deal with him. If you're not, I'll be forced to deal with him myself.”