A Rare Chance (7 page)

“Most of our trespassing,” Gabriella said airily, “was to investigate and document a suspected new orchid species when an owner refused to let us on his property.”

“Who could blame him? You two find some flower, next thing you know you want the place cordoned off and not so much as an ant allowed in without your permission.”

“Only until the orchid's been identified and, if rare or endangered, protected in accordance with international law.”

“I'll bet.”

Gabriella gave a breezy toss of her head, trying to dispel some of the tension she felt. Whatever kind of cop Cam Yeager had been, she was betting he'd done his fair share of interrogations. “It wasn't all crocodiles and narrow escapes from crazy banana growers, you know. Scag and I did some good work together.”

Cam shrugged. “Maybe you did.”

“Anyway,
I'm
not the one who should be doing the explaining. You are.”

“Now, why am I not surprised you'd see it that way?”

He started back up the aisle into Number One, where Scag was hacking away at a knot of back bulbs at his worktable. Gabriella never failed to be amazed by his ability to spend hours at a time with nothing but orchids for company.

“Scag,” she said, “this is Cam Yeager. He knows about you.”

Scag gave them both a mildly suspicious look. “Knows about me. Like I'm Jimmy Hoffa or something.”

Cam laughed, a deep, raw, sexy laugh that only further unsettled Gabriella. Awareness rippled through her, unbidden and utterly disconcerting. Muttering something about seeing her father later, she pushed through the aluminum door back out to her rooftop deck. She had to get her bearings. She had to
think.

She heard Cam saying, “You and your daughter were your own little Greenpeace on behalf of wild orchids,” and Scag telling him—as only he could—that he didn't talk to the police.

“Relax,” Cam said, standing with the door open, “I'm an
ex
-cop.”

Scag snorted. “Once a cop, always a cop.”

Laughing again, Cam let the door swing shut behind him as he came out on the deck. Gabriella brushed back strands of hair, just to give her hands something to do. She was a mass of nervous energy.

Cam pulled back a loose strand of hair that had fallen into her face. “Hey, Gabby. No need to be nervous. I'm on your side.”

“Are you?”

“Sure. Scag hasn't broken a U.S. law in years. I'm not about to arrest him or tell the world he's up on your roof.”

She acknowledged his words with a small nod. “I'm worried about him. He's seventy-five. I don't think he can do it anymore, chasing after orchids all over the world. But tending a rooftop greenhouse—it's just not him.” She sighed, her father a complication, as always. “Look, if this Pete Darrow character has a bone to pick with me, that's fine. But he'd better leave my father alone. You can tell him that.”

“Understood.”

She shot him a look, aware of how close to her he was standing. “You're really just his friend? You're trying to make sure he hasn't gone off the deep end or something by quitting the police force?”

“I told you, we were partners.”

As if that said it all. Simple words, but his tone suggested layer upon layer of meaning. She nodded. “I know. I'm trying to understand what that means.”

“It means I'm going to stop him from doing something stupid, even if he won't thank me in the end.”

“You have reason to suspect he's planning something stupid, don't you? Does it have something to do with Joshua's attempted kidnapping? Is he in danger from Darrow? Do Joshua and Titus—”

“Whoa. Don't get ahead of yourself. If I had anything concrete, I'd act on it. You hear things in my profession. Most of it turns out to be garbage.” He moved back from her, and she sensed he was trying to get more than physical distance between them. “If you hear anything or come up with any ideas, give me a call.”

“Oh, sure. And I'm sure you'll return the favor.”

“Gabby—”

“I know how this game works.”

He sighed. “That's just the thing. You don't.” He started for the stairs, probably just as irritated as she was, except he was better at not showing it. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Maybe I should just look over my shoulder and see if you're there.”

The gleam came back to his sea-blue eyes. He took two long steps back to her and touched one finger to her mouth. “Maybe I will be.”

 

After Cam Yeager had gone, after she'd washed her face and pulled herself together, Gabriella returned to the greenhouse with a sandwich and coffee for her father. He decided it was warm enough to eat outside. Using his cane, moving stiffly and painfully, he walked out to the deck. Gabriella felt the tug of conflicting emotions. He had his own problems. He didn't need to know about Cam Yeager, Pete Darrow, attempted kidnappings, Lizzie and Joshua. She didn't need to tell him.

She didn't want to need to tell him.

“Scag, I—”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “Those two suits you work for don't know I'm in town. Don't worry, kid. I'm not going to do anything that'll embarrass you. Hell, I'm so lame I can't even do anything that'll embarrass
me.
”

“You're my father. I haven't forgotten.”

He snorted. “Hell, how could you? Is that what you've been so worried about? Look, you have to live your own life, even if what you like to do gives me the sweats. Turning shoe factories into housing for the elderly. Christ. Imagine ending up watching ‘Wheel of Fortune' in the same damned place you worked the three-to-eleven shift your whole life.”

“We've never done a shoe factory, Scag.”

“Give yourselves some time.”

“The old buildings we renovate have tremendous architectural and structural integrity. Their historical significance alone makes them worth rehabilitating when feasible. When they're converted for housing, the exterior might be preserved, but the interior changes dramatically. You should see some of the apartments we've done. They're beautiful, with far more character than anything anyone could afford to build from scratch for the same money. There's an old coffin factory out in central Massachusetts—”

“There you go. That's a comfort, some old bastard putting his feet up in a coffin factory.”

Gabriella sighed. It was just like the old days. They'd argue everything, even when they agreed. “You're impossible. You think we should just tear down all these old buildings and put up new ones?”

He dropped into a cushioned teak chair, the sunlight making him seem paler than he had in the greenhouse. “I think we should treat old people with a hell of a lot more respect than we do. Just because they might have slowed down a bit doesn't mean they've turned into goddamned morons.”

They?

But Gabriella kept her mouth shut. Her father wasn't a moron, but he had slowed down, even if he hadn't yet admitted it to her.

“I could have done this to my leg fifty years ago,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

She grinned at him. “I'll bet you did.”

He grinned back at her, winking a dark, watery eye. “There was that time in the Philippines.”

She watched him bite into a sandwich, and the memories flooded over her. The good times, the bad, the crazy. Having an eccentric for a father wasn't easy, never mind that her mother had encouraged her never to expect Tony Scagliotti to be anything but what he was. And she hadn't. She could see that now more than she ever had. She had her independence, her sense of self, and she had long given up any notion Scag would ever change.

He drank some of his coffee, his dark eyes on her. “What?”

“It's not just having you back in Boston that's on my mind,” she said.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she told Scag about Joshua Reading's attempted kidnapping, about his new security man following her, about coming upon Cam Yeager at Fanueil Hall and the day before on her front steps and again last night, about not knowing if she should trust him or Pete Darrow or anyone.

She told her father everything.

 

Orchids and a loony father. As vices went, Cam thought, they weren't much. Certainly not in the same league as kidnapping and collecting illegal weapons. So why the hell was Pete Darrow wasting time following Gabriella Starr? Had Joshua Reading put him up to it? Was his job for the Reading brothers legit?

Cam wrapped his ankle in a reusable soft cold compress he kept in the freezer for just such occasions as when he'd wedged himself between two rocks while trespassing. He kept the compress in place with a towel, flopped down on his battered leather couch, and turned on the Red Sox game. They were playing the Yankees again, fourth inning, no score. It was shaping up to be a half-decent season.

He could see Gabriella's dark, luscious eyes as she fought between wanting her father out of her life and not being able to imagine it. As she fought her fear that he'd waged his last battle on behalf of endangered orchids and would shrivel up and die a broken man. No one wanted to watch a father lose his drive, his passion, his reason for living. But in his few minutes with Tony Scagliotti, Cam hadn't seen a hint of self-pity or denial in the old man. He had to have known this day might come. He had to have thought about what he'd do.

The sold-out crowd at Fenway was cheering as only Boston Red Sox fans could, with that mix of it's-about-time and die-hard optimism that this would be the year. Cam didn't know why they were cheering. Then he saw the player cross the plate. Ah. A home run. He hadn't been paying attention.

Gabriella Starr could prove one major distraction.

His ankle ached. It was bruised but otherwise okay. He'd ice it for a while, then it was on its own. He didn't have the time or patience to indulge a bruised ankle.

He lay back, closing his eyes, trying to get inside Pete Darrow's head and stop thinking about Gabriella Starr, financial whiz and orchid grower, stop imagining her up in a banana tree. Hers was a world he didn't understand. But he understood wanting to carve out an identity separate from a strong father's, to be taken on one's own terms, for one's own principles and actions. Yes, that he understood. Thomas Yeager was a tough act to follow in his own right. Lawyer, judge, governor, respected Harvard professor. With a father like that, Pete Darrow used to say, why the hell had Cam become a cop? Darrow had never understood. Cam wondered if Gabriella Starr might.

Darrow had to know she'd plucked him off the rocks last night.

Would he do anything about it?

If he did, Cam intended to be there. Gabriella Starr might like to be on her own, but until he'd sorted out Joshua Reading and his guns and Pete Darrow and whatever game he was playing, she wasn't going to be. Cam was going to be with her every step of the way.

B
y Monday morning, Gabriella had almost convinced herself that Cam Yeager and Pete Darrow had worked out their differences over the weekend and she was free and clear of them. She hadn't seen either of them on Sunday. She hadn't heard from Lizzie and guiltily half-hoped her dinner with Joshua Reading hadn't been such fun after all. Not a disaster, of course. Just enough for them to decide they didn't want to pursue a relationship, a complication Gabriella didn't welcome. For most of the day, she'd holed up on the roof with Scag, retelling old tales, arguing orchids and politics and everything else, pretending she could go into work on Monday and all would be well.

But all wasn't well.

Joshua joined her in her office just before lunch. He looked amiable and handsome, not as if he could have put an ex-cop up to following her. “Mind if I have a word with you? Is this a bad time?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I'm sorry about what happened on Friday, by the way. It was just one of those dumb things.”

Unless Pete Darrow had seen her and knew better. Unless he'd told his boss so. But she'd decided on her course of action, had already lied to Joshua Reading's security chief, and now there was no turning back.

Joshua waved a hand, dismissive. “Don't worry about it. I'm just relieved you weren't seriously hurt. Pete Darrow said you were quite a mess.”

“I took a pretty good spill.”

“A throwback to your days with your father, perhaps.” She gave a mock shudder. “Eek.”

He smiled, remaining on his feet as he walked over to her window and looked out at the water, choppy beneath gray skies. A plane was taking off from Logan Airport across the harbor. Joshua seemed unusually jumpy, self-conscious. He didn't look at her when he spoke. “Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I don't know if she's told you already, but Lizzie and I hit it off Friday night. We saw a lot of each other over the weekend. I know she spoke to you, but I wanted to clear the air myself, in case there's a problem with our seeing each other.”

“Are you asking me if I mind?”

He glanced over at her, clearly ill at ease. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Joshua, if you and Lizzie want to see each other, that's your business. You certainly don't need my permission.”

“That's more or less what Lizzie said.”

He turned back to the window. Usually not one to notice such details, Gabriella realized he was better looking, and certainly better dressed, than Cam Yeager with his scars and calluses and his ratty clothes, his natural irreverence. She tried to imagine Cam dressed up as a prosecutor. No matter what he wore, his penetrating looks and tough questions would mesmerize a jury.

Joshua would want to know that Cam Yeager had been trespassing on Reading Point on Friday. Keeping quiet, Gabriella knew, was a good way to get herself fired.

“Lizzie tells me you two have been friends a long time,” Joshua said.

Gabriella shook off thoughts of Cam. He wasn't the reason Joshua was in her office. Lizzie was. “Since the summer before third grade. Her folks have a place on Cape Cod. She and my mother and I used to have picnics together, and when Scag was in town, he'd whisk us off to islands and bogs in search of wild orchids.”

Joshua turned to her, his pale gray eyes unreadable. “What about Lizzie's parents?”

“They didn't do that sort of stuff.”

She remembered when she and Scag were off on one of their jaunts and they'd come across Lizzie, just after she'd run away from home, not for the first—or the last—time. Gabriella had wanted to return her to her parents right away, assuming they must be worried about their missing daughter. Scag, however, had insisted on dragging her along on their adventure. When they'd finally delivered Lizzie home, Eugene Fairfax had gazed at his only child in mild surprise and said, “Oh, Lizzie, were you off exploring?”

“You and Lizzie are very different, aren't you?” Joshua asked quietly.

“I guess so. It's not something I think about. We're just friends.”

“Yes. Well, I'm glad we're all on the same wavelength. She knows I'm fond of you and wouldn't want you to feel awkward about the two of us seeing each other.”

Gabriella suspected he was looking to her to reassure him she understood that any romantic interest he'd had in her was in the past, not to be resurrected and not something Lizzie Fairfax needed to know. After a year, Gabriella had learned to read the subtext in her conversations with the Readings. In a way, it was like dealing with Lizzie, who often couldn't handle conflict or uncomfortable subjects in a straightforward manner. Gabriella had always been direct about what was on her mind, not always to her benefit or credit.

“There's no awkwardness,” she said, meaning it.

“Good. I think—well, I've never met anyone like her.”

So much, Gabriella thought after he'd left, for their dinner not being much fun, never mind a disaster. But she dove into her work, trying to ignore the feeling that the life she'd created for herself in the past year was slipping away. If Scag had to stay in Boston, if Lizzie and Joshua had more than a brief fling or if they ended on a sour note, everything could change.

And that didn't even take into account one Cameron Yeager.

But she couldn't make herself crazy fretting about things over which she had no control. Scag and Lizzie would do what they would do, just as they always had, and Cam Yeager—well, he'd definitely do what he'd do. She doubted anyone could control him.

That evening, she walked home via Fanueil Hall Marketplace, where she'd seen an orchid in a flower shop that had taken her fancy. She meant to have a closer look, her way of reasserting normality into her life.

Pete Darrow, however, fell in beside her. He gave her a cocky grin, 007 having fun being a spy. “Seven o'clock on a Monday night and Gabriella Starr finally heads home.”

She refused to let him see how nervous he made her. “You seem to keep long hours yourself.”

“Just getting the lay of the land, who's who, what's what.”

“As many times as you've followed me, you should know everything about who's who and what's what in my life.”

He glanced down at her. “Going straight for the jugular, huh?”

She stopped hard in the middle of the marketplace, grateful for the crowd the warm evening had brought out. Her heart was pounding even as she gave Darrow a cool look. “I want to know why you've been following me.”

“Let's just say I needed to figure you out.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“Nope. I'm just getting started.”

Abandoning any idea of checking out the orchid, Gabriella plunged across Congress Street. Pete Darrow took long, unhurried strides beside her. She couldn't outrun him. She started up the stairs to Government Center at a fast clip. Darrow stayed right with her. With scores of people out in the wide, spacious plaza around Boston City Hall, she was nervous but not afraid.

Finally, she flew around at him. “What do you want from me?”

“A little common sense would be nice.”

Blood pulsed behind her eyes. Where the hell was Cam Yeager when she needed him?

She inhaled, trying not to overreact. “What do you mean by ‘common sense'?”

“Oh, you know. Not walking through Boston Common at two in the morning, not eating unwashed vegetables. Not trying to pull a fast one on me.”

Gabriella resumed walking, keeping her steps long and confident. She didn't want Pete Darrow getting the idea he could say anything that would scare her, that she had a guilty conscience.

“Why would I want to pull a fast one on you?” she asked.

“It's in your nature.”

Hearing the arrogance, the certainty in his voice, she slowed her pace. He knew about Friday night. He had to. He knew she'd rescued Cam Yeager and hadn't told anyone about it.

He went a few steps ahead of her before coming to a languid stop and turning around, giving her a half-quizzical, half-amused look. She swallowed, wishing away her tension. “I don't have to tell you anything.”

“That's true, you don't. And you know why, sweet cheeks? Because I already know everything.” Moving slowly, confidently, he took two steps back toward her. “Joshua Reading asked me to check out your personal security, make sure you weren't putting yourself at any unnecessary risk. He doesn't want you pulled off the road and kidnapped.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because you're a smart lady. You know when someone's bullshitting you. Joshua figured you're a prominent personality at TJR Associates, you could be a target for the goons who tried to make off with him. He wanted to make sure you weren't exposing yourself unduly to danger. With me on the case, the attackers can't get to him or his brother. So they might try you.”

“That's ridiculous.”

But her voice was raspy, shaking; she'd gone rigid trying to keep her body from trembling. Was he telling the truth? What about Cam? Hadn't he guessed Darrow might be following her for this very reason?

Did he
know
that was why Pete Darrow was following her and just hadn't told her?

What if
he
were a part of the kidnapping attempt on Joshua Reading?

She shut her eyes a moment. She was getting way too far ahead of the facts.

“I have no money to pay off kidnappers,” she said. “Most of what I've earned has gone into my apartment and my two years working with my father.”

Pete Darrow grinned. “Working with your father. I like that. A couple nuts scrounging the world for orchids.”

“Mr. Darrow—”

“You can call me Pete, you know. Consider me a colleague. Listen, Ms. Gabriella, I know you think you're a tough cookie, and maybe when it comes to orchids you are, but you don't want to cross me, okay?”

She made no reply.

“Common sense, right? I only want to keep you and your bosses from getting hurt.”

She swallowed. “Why should I believe you?”

He leaned back on his heels, assessing her, his dark eyes reduced to narrow slits. “You might be hell unleashed at the negotiating table, sweet cheeks, but we're not negotiating. I'm giving you advice.”

She nodded, neutral, but said nothing.

Darrow patted her on the cheek. “So next time you rescue Cam Yeager and have him up to your roof and introduce him to your daddy, maybe you'll tell me, huh?”

He didn't wait for her answer, just whipped gracefully around and sauntered across Government Center, back toward Fanueil Hall.

When she finally got her breath back, could finally move, Gabriella dashed from Government Center across Cambridge Street, then up behind huge One Beacon, and out to the steep, narrow, eighteenth-century streets of Beacon Hill. She was acting on impulse. She knew she was. But even if she'd sat down and thought it all out, she expected she'd have made the same decision.

Cam Yeager lived on Pinckney Street. She had his address memorized.

It was time
she
found out who was who and what was what.

 

After a brief, painful run along the river, Cam was on the couch in his basement apartment, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, debating whether the legs in front of his window belonged to Gabriella Starr. He could see them from the thighs down. They were trim, well shaped, encased in taupe-colored stockings. Her skirt was dark teal, with a little swing to it. She had walked past his window once, double-backed, and hesitated.

Probably couldn't remember his address, Cam thought. Or maybe she couldn't reconcile his rough-and-ready image with this Federal period townhouse.

Ah yes, a man of many contradictions he was.

He rolled off the couch and looked through his window, peering up at the shapely-legged woman.

Gabriella Starr indeed. In running shoes and one of her brass-tacks business suits. A woman of her own contradictions she was.

He considered rapping on the window to tell her she had the right place but, given the rough time she'd been having lately, decided against it and headed upstairs.

She was in the vestibule, applying her MBA mind to the row of silver mailboxes. Her hair was shining and windblown and very, very dark, and seeing her hit him hard in the gut, even harder than he'd imagined it would. Hell, maybe it was just because she'd plucked his miserable butt off the rocks and probably saved his life. Maybe it was because he was on vacation.

As he pushed open the glass inner door, he warned himself not to be fooled by her warm, huge, dreamy eyes. Gabriella Starr was smart, astute, and hardheaded.

“You've got the right place,” he said.

“Oh.” She smiled, unexpectedly self-conscious. And scared, Cam thought. Something had happened. But she brazened it out. No surprise there. “I wasn't sure. May I come in?”