Aftershocks (28 page)

“Oh, Kell, this is perfect!” She hugged the totem to her chest, then gazed reverently at it.

“Are you sure? You didn’t look at all of them.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to. They’re exactly what I was looking for.”

“All right, then.” Kell’s posture tightened, and he turned to Will. “I’d like to make an offer for the set.”

But Will laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t sell anything from my collection.”

“Well, I’m sure we can come to an agreement, given the circumstances. Every—”

“I don’t sell.” Will’s tone was still pleasant, but brooked no argument. “Ever.”

Kell kept negotiating. Zoe knew she should help. They had to convince him. But she’d become absorbed in the totem in her hand, thinking how different it looked. Smaller than she remembered, but of course she’d still been a kid then. Far more inert, absent the power she’d subconsciously attributed to it. She’d associated her entire captivity with these things by the time she escaped, and she thought they had to show some signs of what they’d wrought. Scratches and dents, at least. She ran a finger over the lines carved into the gold, peering hard, looking…

She swallowed audibly. Looking for blood. Jordie had died for these.

Suddenly, illness wasn’t so difficult to fake. She went lightheaded and queasy at the same time, faint screams echoing in the back of her mind. For an instant, the distinctive blend of the tang of blood, mildewed wood, and dirty clothes hovered on the air.

Zoe started to fight it, to force herself back into the carefully lit and expensively carpeted display room she stood in, but she heard Grant in her earpiece, urging them to hurry and get out of there.

“Oh.” She opened stiff fingers and let the totem fall to the ground, swaying a little. The men swung toward her, alarm apparent on Will’s face. She closed her eyes and tilted as the walls of the cabin closed around her and she could have sworn a big, dumb man sat in the corner to her left. Freddie’s high-pitched laughter pierced her eardrums, and panic swept through her, convinced the woman had either appeared in Will’s mansion or that she was somehow going back there, like the totem had opened a time portal.

“Kell!” she cried out, reaching, and his arm came around her back as her knees gave out. He swept her up in his arms and the cabin disappeared, the smell returning to “rich guy’s house” and the laughter and screams blinking out like someone had turned off the TV. But her vision didn’t clear. She squeezed her eyes closed, but when she opened them could only see hazy light. The panic increased, this time more rational. “Kell,” she said again, clutching the front of his shirt in her free hand.

“This way,” Will said from somewhere in front of them. Kell started walking, and Zoe closed her eyes and pressed her face to his shoulder, wishing he wasn’t wearing the jacket so she could feel his warmth and strength. His arms under her were tense, and she knew he was aware she wasn’t faking.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll get you out of here.” A few steps later he bent and settled her on some kind of settee, stiff fabric over stiffer cushions. A pillow was stuffed under her head as he laid her back, and she heard Will calling for water and a compress.

She’d be embarrassed if this was real. Swooning in the twenty-first century, for cripes sake.

The thought seemed to reboot her brain. Tingles ran up and down her body, her nerves testing themselves, and faded. The queasiness disappeared, and her head felt more stable. She was afraid to open her eyes, though, and find herself still blind.

A cool cloth draped over her forehead. “Take it easy,” Kell murmured, and she sensed that he was kneeling on the floor next to her. “Do you want an ambulance? A doctor?”

“No. I’m okay.” She cracked her eyelids and was relieved to see olive green silk fabric covering the roll of the settee’s arm at her feet, and pale walls, crown molding, a uniformed maid or housekeeper hovering in the doorway, twisting her fingers. She breathed deep and let it out in a long sigh. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Kell wrapped his hand around hers and pressed it to his lips. “Could it be…?” He looked exactly like a half-hopeful, half-worried fiancé asking if she was pregnant.

She smiled sadly and stroked her hand down his cheek. “Maybe.” She was acting now, of course, but couldn’t help wondering if Kell wasn’t. They hadn’t talked much about children, certainly not since he’d proposed. They both wanted them eventually, was all they knew.

But if she
was
pregnant, it would be Kell’s, and he’d win.

“What can I get you?” Will broke into their moment. “Brandy? No, of course not. Here’s some water.” He handed Zoe a glass, and she thanked him and sipped at it.

“I’m okay, I think, Will, thank you. But I’m afraid we’ll have to skip brunch. I should go back to the hotel and lie down.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do. Perhaps we can try again next time you’re in town.”

“That would be lovely.” She let Kell help her to her feet and was grateful her head didn’t swim or her legs wobble. She smiled at both men and glanced around. “I’m afraid I don’t know—“

“This way.” Will jumped to lead them to the door. “Selma, please let Edward know we’re ready for the car.”

They made small talk on the front steps while they waited for the limo to glide up, mostly about how San Francisco weather was so different from the rest of the country, being so warm in October and chilly in the middle of summer.

Finally, the car was there, and she and Kell slid into its dim comfort. Moments later, they were rolling down the drive and gliding out the gate.

“We’re clear,” Kell said in a voice low enough that Edward couldn’t hear it.

“Roger that,” Grant came back. “You should pass us in thirty seconds, and we’ll be right behind you. Hotel in twenty minutes, barring traffic.”

Zoe automatically looked out the window at the empty street. The limo eased to a stop sign and waited for another car to turn from their right and pass on the left. Zoe followed the car’s path, barely noting that it was at least a decade old and didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Then it passed her window and she looked at the driver. Her gasp was almost a scream.

The man in the beater was Patron Rhomney.

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you absolutely sure?” Grant demanded for the third time. Henricksen barked orders into his cell phone, trying to organize a way to get the totems from Carling, now that he’d refused to make it easy and sell them.

“Of course she is.” Kell glowered at Grant. “Stop badgering her.”

“She just had a regressive episode, she said it herself.” Grant leaned aggressively toward Kell, who stood with his hand on Zoe’s arm as if expecting her to faint again. She’d kicked off her shoes as soon as they entered the hotel room, just in case, but she felt physically fine. The “episode” in Carling’s house seemed long ago, residual effects banished by the shock of seeing Pat in that car.

“So?” Kell shot back at Grant. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s been years since she saw him, and that car went by too fast to make a positive identification.”

“He’s right.” Zoe pulled away from Kell and sat on the bed, tiring as adrenaline seeped away. “It looked like him, but not exactly. He was older, and his hair wasn’t as long. It was nicely trimmed. His face wasn’t clean-shaven, but it was trendy scruff, not the bushy beard he used to keep.” She rubbed her forehead and leaned forward over her knees. “I can’t believe I would ever not recognize him. But it’s easy to see someone you know in a stranger.”

Kell didn’t look convinced, but Grant settled back on his heels. “Exactly. We can’t react haphazardly. Rhomney shouldn’t be out of Ohio.”

“He’d come for the totems,” she argued. “Nothing would stop him if he knew where they were. Maybe he wouldn’t let a minion handle it, not after all this time, not after losing them before.”

“I get that.” Grant pulled the desk chair over and straddled it backwards. “I’m not saying you have him pegged wrong. But how would he know they were here, not to mention get here so fast?”

“We know they’re tracking us,” Kell offered.

Grant looked up at him. “Yeah, but they’ve been tracking us since Florida. How would they know we found them now, as opposed to in Utah? Rhomney’s not going to skip on parole without proof. He’s not stupid.”

“Whacked, but not stupid,” Zoe confirmed. Still, when she’d seen that driver, something sharp had stabbed into the base of her neck, and it stung there. She was absolutely certain that man was Rhomney, and equally certain she didn’t ever want to be that close to him again.

Henricksen snapped his phone shut and crossed to them, looking grim. A wave of foreboding raised the hair on Zoe’s back and arms. “What is it?”

The guys turned to face the agent.

“They got to Cocalico.”

Zoe gasped. “Is he dead?”

“No, but he’s in the hospital, unconscious, possible brain injury.”

Oh, no. “What about Rudy?” Her voice shook. It was her fault. She’d led them to those innocent men.

“I have them checking. There’s been no police report.”

“Shit.” She stood to pace, but Grant was in front of her before she took a step.

“It’s not your fault,” he growled so fiercely it derailed her guilt with surprise.

“But—”

“No buts. Whether or not you tracked them down, somehow whoever did this would have connected him to the totems.”

But he was wrong. “No one knew I put them on a train. If I’d just stayed away from everyone and left all this alone—”

“They’d have you by now.” He stepped even closer, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. His intense blue eyes trapped hers; she couldn’t look away. “You are just as important and innocent as Ozzie Cocalico and anyone else that gets in Rhomney’s way. I will
not
”—he shook her a little—“let you take responsibility for this.”

It was as if he poured his will into her. Heat welled up inside her body, like hot water in a bath, soothing and healing. It left no room for guilt or regret, and after a moment, she felt nothing but determination and slight anger. The kind that compelled.

“How do you do that?” she murmured, and his eyes blazed in an entirely different way. His fingers loosened to a near-caress on her bare skin, and his mouth parted slightly.

“Unbelievable.”

Kell’s exclamation broke Grant’s spell. Zoe jerked back, but she was standing too close to the bed. Grant tightened his hold to keep her from falling. She had to brace her hands on his chest to keep from falling against
him
. In the brief moment she touched him, she could feel his heartbeat, hard and fast under his T-shirt.

“Look, Neely, I’ve been cool about this, but you can’t think I’m gonna stand here and watch you seduce her in front of me.” Kell pulled her away from him by the hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Grant looked angry for a moment, his arm actually lifting like he was going to pull her back, but then amusement took over. “I wasn’t seducing her.”

Yeah, right. Zoe couldn’t look at any of them. If she and Grant had been alone, they’d probably be in bed right now. No one should underestimate the power of guilt alleviation. She’d needed that, and somehow he’d known not only that she did, but how to do it.

Henricksen cleared his throat. “Can we get back to this, please?” He waggled his phone in the air, and they gave him their attention again. As he began to speak, Zoe eased away from Kell and sat back on the bed. He followed, staring pointedly at Grant, but didn’t touch her when he sat.

“I’ve confirmed to the Bureau that we’ve got positive ID on the totems and that Rhomney may be here. But the agent charged with keeping tabs on him and Thomashunis talked to the parole officer today, and she insists Rhomney’s in town.”

“It’s Sunday. Your agent talked to a parole officer on Sunday?” Grant looked disbelieving.

“I’ve kept my team alerted to what we’re doing here, and to the actions against Ms. Ardmore and Mr. Stone.”

“How does the parole officer know Pat’s still in town?” Zoe asked. “Did she see him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Great. So that
could
have been him.” The queasiness returned. “Will. Someone has to contact Will Carling. Pat was on his way to his house.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up the contacts, swallowing over and over to keep the nausea at bay. She already felt bad for playing Will, lying and pretending, and now he was in the line of fire, too.

She hit the dial button and pierced Henricksen with a glare. “You’re getting the totems, right? Now? They’re going in today?” The call went directly to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message, because what the hell could she say?

He shook his head. “We can’t just go in and take them. We need Carling to agree to sign them over or a compelling reason to seize them, which takes a warrant. Which is impossible to get on a Sunday when there’s no confirmation of physical threat. I had to do a lot of fast talking to even get that far.”

“So, tomorrow?”

“With luck.”