Bound and Determined (37 page)

“Well, at least we won’t have trouble convincing Kerry of Smikins’s guilt,” Rafe muttered.

“No. She detests the jerk. She’s thought he was guilty all along.”

“I should have listened a little harder to that.”

Maybe if he had listened, Kerry’s life wouldn’t be in danger right this moment. He only prayed he and Jason caught up with her before Smikins did.

K
erry let herself into Mark and Tiffany’s place with the spare key behind the planter on the front porch. The interior of the house was dark and hot, not unusual for the middle of a workday. The foyer and living room, like the rest of the house, were almost surgically clean. Tiff sure could make a normal girl feel like a slob.

Still, as Kerry shut the door behind her, she could feel Mark here. His strength seemed embedded in these walls. She recalled the day he’d painted the living room that soothing sage color, and nearly dumped most of the paint on himself. She dropped her car keys on the living room table and wandered into the kitchen, feeling a sad smile steal across her face when she spotted the little burn mark on the kitchen counter where Mark had scarred the wood after one of his culinary experiments.

A sob bubbled up inside her. Even if the entire defensive line of an NFL football team had tackled her, Kerry couldn’t imagine feeling worse than she did at that moment. She felt like she’d failed her big brother so miserably and completely lost her heart in the process—all while breaking the law. Couldn’t forget that. True, the money might still draw the thief out into the open, but with the day mostly gone and no one with five sticky fingers in sight, Kerry was beginning to fear the guilty party was too clever to fall for Rafe’s trap. Which meant Mark would stay in jail, and Rafe would join him unless someone in the FBI had a sense of humor.

Her life had been so topsy-turvy lately, Kerry felt sure she’d have better luck predicting the date of California’s next major earthquake than guessing her next monkey wrench.

She hated to whine. Really, she did. But why hadn’t she fallen in love with someone who could love her back? Why hadn’t she listened when Rafe had told her that he was no good for her? And why, why was she powerless to help her brother while he rotted in jail? She was out of answers. She only knew that she’d screwed so many things up. God, if she could go back six months and know then what she knew now . . .

The garage door slammed on the other side of the house.
Kerry rose, froze. Who would be coming in the garage door now? A quick glance at the clock showed it was only three-thirty. Tiffany shouldn’t be home for at least an hour, maybe longer. With her current lucky streak, whoever had just entered the house was a deranged killer.

Footsteps raced through the laundry room, entered the hall, headed toward the kitchen. Scrambling for a hiding place, Kerry leapt behind the curtains draping the full-length window in the living room.

Moments later, someone breezed into the adjoining kitchen with a muttered curse . . . one she’d know anywhere. Kerry released the breath she’d been holding.

“Tiff?” She peered through the doorway, into the kitchen, stepping away from the drape.

Squealing, Tiffany jumped, a hand to her slight chest as she entered the living room. “You? Oh my goodness, you scared me! I—I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Sorry.”

Judging from the fact Tiff shared all the same skin tone as a cadaver, Kerry must have really startled her.

“Um . . . no, my fault,” Tiff assured her with one of her sweet smiles. “I should have noticed your car outside. Don’t know how I missed it. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Everything okay?”

“Trying day.” Tiffany tried to smile. “Before I forget to ask, do you know Mr. Dawson’s room number at the hotel? Smikins wants to visit in person, since Mr. Dawson won’t return his calls. I can’t tell you how angry Smikins is about that. He chewed me out all day long.”

Ah, that explained Tiff’s terse greeting. Not to mention her askew hairdo and half-tucked blouse. She hated listening to Smikins rant. Then again, who didn’t?

“I would have called, but my house . . . caught fire. Actually, I think someone torched it and tried to kill me.”

Tiffany’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh, my! What does the fire department think?”

She snorted. “That I had some sort of kitchen accident.”

“You don’t think it’s possible?”

“I know I’m not a great cook, but I wasn’t cooking.” She frowned. “I’d planned to make tea but I hadn’t even started.”

“Tea?” Tiffany frowned. “You only make tea when you’re upset. What happened?”

“You mean besides the clock ticking away on my best hope of uncovering the truth about Mark’s supposed crime, being hit on by my brother’s best friend, and falling in love with a guy so far out of my league, I’m playing pee wee to his pros? Other than that, nothing.” The sting of tears cracked her flippant façade.

Tiffany patted her back. “I know it’s been tough lately.”

Sniffling, Kerry sent her sister-in-law a watery-eyed glance of thanks.

She and Tiffany had never been sister-like close, but Mark’s wife had always lent an ear and been patient. She didn’t always seem to grasp the big picture, but today, Kerry simply appreciated her listening. In fact, Tiffany’s bit of kindness felt like a blowtorch to her plastic composure.

Lack of sleep, coupled with an overload of raw emotions, stress, and fear all caught up with her at once. God, she couldn’t cry again. Her eyes were sandpapery, aching sockets, her head a pounding mess. She felt spent, empty, completely wrung out. Surely she didn’t have any more grief left to give. Yet she couldn’t stop a new flow of tears.

The waterfall started and rivaled those she’d seen in pictures of Hawaii. And damn it, tears just kept coming, along with pain. Loss. Humiliation. Somehow she knew her life would never be the same without Mark around to anchor her and Rafe around to love her. She couldn’t hug them, help them, be with them. Reality sucked.

Chin trembling, Kerry stared at the ceiling and desperately tried to rein in her tears. “I’m a total wreck! My life . . . it’s just falling apart. My house and most of my stuff are charred to a crisp, someone tried to kill me, and the man I love . . . if he’d shouted the fact he didn’t love me, the message wouldn’t have been any clearer. And Mark . . . I tried so hard to help him, but I only made a muck out of everything.”

Fresh tears drowned out her next few words for the moment.

“All this will go away soon,” Tiffany murmured beside her. “I’ll help you.”

“How?” Kerry turned to look at her sister-in-law with a frown. “How do I free my brother? How do I get my heart
back? I just don’t see it.” She sniffled again, surrendering to more new tears. “I don’t want to cry anymore, but I can’t stop. I don’t know who to turn to. I don’t have Mark’s support and I—”

“I know how much you want Mark back and that you’d go to great lengths to see him free, but getting mixed up with that Dawson character? That is who you fell in love with, right?”

Kerry nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Jason. By the way, I’m not surprised he made a pass at you. But you’re the kind of girl who wants a man she can rely on. Dawson isn’t it. What’s his room number so I can give him a piece of my mind? Oh, and I can tell Smikins so that he can give Dawson a piece of his mind, too . . . what little there is of it.” She smiled.

Rising to grab a paper towel out of the kitchen, Kerry returned to the living room and dabbed at her swollen eyes. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

A tense smile graced Tiffany’s fine-boned face. “I know, but I promised Shorty I’d find out today and let him know. He swears he’ll fire me if I don’t. Can you help me out? Then we’ll work on solving all your dilemmas, I promise.”

Weighing her sister-in-law’s loss against Rafe’s inconvenience, Kerry muttered Rafe’s room number at the hotel.

“Thanks, honey. You look dead on your feet. Let me get you a sandwich.”

Gotta love Tiff. Her answer to all of life’s troubles was food. She was lucky to have the metabolism that allowed her to do that without gaining massive pounds. “No thanks, I—”

“Did you even eat today?”

“Well, no.” Come to think of it, she really hadn’t.

“A quick sandwich will do the trick.”

Let her make it,
she told herself. It would make Tiffany feel better, if nothing else.

Pausing, Kerry watched her sister-in-law retreat to the kitchen, looking tense and unhappy. And she felt ashamed. She wasn’t the only one suffering. Tiffany was a bride without a groom, a woman in love without her man, a well-organized assistant with an asshole for a boss. Things hadn’t been all wine and roses for her since the month after she and Mark married.

“Can I help you?” she called after Tiff.

“You sit. You’ve had a trying day. I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, bustling around the kitchen.

A moment later, Tiffany’s cell phone rang. She snatched the phone from its holster attached to the waistband of her slacks, her face pulled tight with anxiety. Boy, if that was Smikins, he sure had Tiff under his thumb.

“Hello?” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

A moment later, Tiffany began to ease the door between the kitchen and the living room shut. “I have the necessary information . . .” was all Kerry heard before the door closed completely.

Smikins. What a jerk! He just wasn’t happy unless he hounded his staff and called them during their off time. She remembered Mark suffering under the bank manager’s awful temper and impatience.

Alone now, Kerry couldn’t stop her thoughts from wandering back to Rafe. No doubt, he’d discovered her note by now, realized that she was gone. Was he relieved? Given how seriously he hadn’t wanted her to love him, she’d guess yes.

Being this caught up in a man felt wretched, but she could no more change how she felt than she could stop breathing. She was learning the hard way that love was neither convenient nor momentary.

Dabbing her eyes on soft cotton, Kerry realized she was still wearing Rafe’s shirt and sweat shorts. Tears welled up anew. Even the sight of his clothing made her cry. How pathetic was that?

No. No more tears. They stopped now. Rafe was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. She loved him; he didn’t love her. She wasn’t going to spend her life pining for a man who didn’t want her. At least, she hoped not.

She wouldn’t, she promised herself. She’d get over him. Find some other way to help her brother. Somehow, she’d see Mark free. But her new life without Rafe and his wardrobe started now.

R
afe watched Jason maneuver his way to Mark Sullivan’s place, wishing the afternoon traffic wasn’t such a bitch.
Damn, he was sweating. Heat, nerves, fear. He hated this fucking town right now.

“Did you try Kerry’s cell phone?” Jason asked.

“I think it burned in the fire.”

Jason cursed, and Rafe couldn’t have agreed more. He doubted his gut was going to loosen up so that he didn’t feel like puking until he
knew
Kerry was okay.

“How much longer?” he asked, frustrated by the never-ending line of cars in the left-turn lane.

“Ten minutes, tops. Did you call Mark and Tiffany’s house?”

“Don’t know the number.”

Again, Jason cursed. Apparently, his mood was no better.

Reaching for the cell phone strapped to his belt, Jason said, “We can only hope that if Smikins wants to kill Kerry, he won’t think to look for her at Mark’s house.”

But chances were the slimy SOB would. He’d torched her out of her own house. Where else would she go but to family, to the only other place she would consider home?

Before Jason could dial a single number on the key pad, the phone rang. He frowned at the display. “It’s the bank. Damn Smikins. Has to be him.” He pressed the Talk button. “Hello?”

After a brief pause, Jason said, “Hey, Francine.”

Another pause, this one longer. “Now? What the heck is going on?”

The silence this time went on for long, agonizing seconds. Suddenly, Jason’s eyes widened with what Rafe could only describe as shock.

“What is it?” Rafe demanded.

Jason waved him away, his face stunned. “Oh my . . . I can’t believe it.”

The shorter man listened again to the voice on the other end and nodded. “How long ago?” Another brief pause later, he added, “And you saw this yourself?”

Francine’s voice blared across the line suddenly. Rafe couldn’t hear her words, per se. But her tone was loud and clear:
Panic.

“Holy shit.” Jason raked a hand through his short brown hair. “I can’t come to close the bank right now. Do the best you can, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Another screech through the cell phone.

“No,” Jason huffed. “I don’t know exactly when that will be. As soon as I can.”

With that, Jason hung up on a sputtering Francine.

Rafe turned to him with a questioning gaze.

“We’ve got to get to Kerry fast.”

Jason sped up, barely making the intersection before the light turned red.

“What the hell is going on?” Rafe glared at the other man.

“The mystery terminal I found Smikins next to earlier is missing. So is he.”

R
ubbing at the sore, gritty lids of her eyes, Kerry padded from the living room, down the hardwood floor of the hall. Normally, she’d ask Tiffany if she could go into her bedroom and retrieve one of Mark’s shirts. But Tiff was on the phone, so why disturb her? Kerry doubted she would mind.

At the end of the hall, the grandfather clock, one of the few keepsakes left from her father’s family, said the time neared 4:00
P
.
M
. Thank God Wednesday was ticking away. After a heart-wrenching morning and a harrowing afternoon, she didn’t need an evening full of danger and doom. No doubt about it, Kerry had reached her drama quotient for the day.

The door to the garage sat on her left, the car keys on a table beside it. She smiled. Her sister-in-law put them there nearly every day—and then couldn’t find them half the time.

As Kerry reached the end of the hall, Tiff’s conversation heated up. A strain of insistent whispers reached her ears. Then Tiffany gasped. Frowning, Kerry wondered if Smikins had crossed the line from deluded jerk to outright bully.