Deadly Secrets (42 page)

“What do you want to eat?”

She opened her mouth and he quirked a brow at her, narrowing his eyes. She was damned well going to eat.

Ella shut her mouth.

She looked at the man on his knees beside her. The room was dark; the murmur of voices rumbled from behind her, everyone trying to figure out what to do. She didn’t know what to do. What did anyone do? She’d talked to the police, several times. Hell, she’d even spoken to Jareaux alone when Quinlan had left to check on her discharge papers and Jareaux had shown up. Granted, they’d only talked for a bit before some guy claiming to be her guard showed up and ran Jareaux off. What did she
do
?

Everything in her was . . .

Broken.

Just broken.

She couldn’t find even ground. Didn’t know which way to turn. Nothing sounded right. Nothing smelled right. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Drowning, she was drowning and had no idea how to get her head above water. If she could do something, anything, maybe then she could . . . could . . . breathe.

The fire flickered shadows onto Quinlan. His hair, still damp from his shower, held a scent she knew. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. He smelled right. He felt right.

He lifted his head and their eyes met. She saw the questions in his, the fear. The fury. And the hurt.

She’d hurt him.

Again, he lifted his damned brow. “What do you want to eat?” he repeated.

Nothing. Nothing. She wasn’t hungry.

Then again, she knew him well enough to know there was no way in hell he’d let that go. He’d ordered food for her for the last two days, had tried to get her to eat in the hospital.

She wasn’t hungry then. She wasn’t hungry now.

Empty. Everything was empty. Everything hurt. Her wrists, her stomach, all her muscles—from fighting, the doctors had told her. And her breasts. She should have been able to feed her baby, but there was no baby to nurse.

Who was feeding her child? Were they feeding her? What if she was hungry? What if she wanted her mother?

Four days. Four days, she thought, but maybe it was longer. The time in that room was fuzzy.

The cops had found the house she’d been kept in. They’d gone door to door in the neighborhood. No one had told her at first, but she’d heard Quinlan talking to an agent—not Jareaux—and his brothers last night. Glass had shattered out in the living room. She’d walked in and listened as they talked. Apparently he had gone with Ian on Monday. She’d never seen him that angry. She asked to go and no one had listened to her. Quin had and he’d told her over his dead body. She dropped it.

She hadn’t asked again.

Tomorrow they were supposed to go back to the doctor.

“Hey. You’ve got to eat. We’re going to find her, and she’ll need her mom strong when we do, Ella.” His words jerked her back. His fingers rubbed across the back of her knuckles.

“I know,” she said and nodded.

She had asked constantly at first what they knew, what they had found, but hearing the same things was grating, so she didn’t ask.

Eat.

She’d eat.

Sighing, she pushed herself up from the chair, startling again when Quinlan moved to help her.

He muttered something under his breath.

She stopped and stood, staring at him. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “No problem.”

What a lie that was. There were so many problems strangling the two of them, so many on top of everything else. “How can you be nice to me?”

The words were out before she realized it.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Part of her, a large part, agreed. But then . . . “No. Now.”

“Now isn’t the time. Now, we’re going to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re going to eat, damn it,” he snapped.

“Why won’t you be honest with me? I know you’re angry and—”

His eyes widened. “I’m not the one who wasn’t honest, Ella. That was you.”

Well, she had asked. She’d open this damned door. But she was tired of this ugly black ball between them, wrapped in barbs and trip wires. She couldn’t deal with Quin too. Not this way. Not as though everything was fine. As though nothing had happened. When they both knew it was far, far from fine. He could go through the motions, but the truth beneath was eating away at her.

“Quin,” one of his brothers said. She didn’t know which one.

She held up her hand. “No, he’s right. He’s absolutely right.” She nodded. “I wasn’t honest with you.”

She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I know that. But you’re . . . you’re . . .”

“What?”

“You! A damned Kinncaid, for God’s sake. I did the rich boy marriage before, remember?”

“God, I’m so sick of that damned excuse! That’s all you’ve ever said, ‘I’ve done the rich boy before, and it didn’t work.’ What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

How to make him understand? She looked at him. “Look at you and where you come from. My mother was a stripper in the Quarter! And I don’t care about that. She was great, I was lucky to have her. Others, though, have a problem with it.”

“I don’t,” he said, his hands on his hips.

“I have a tattoo and I want another.” She waved toward her hair. “I like to have weird hair.”

“So? You don’t have one tattoo, you have three, and I love each one. And? That’s all who you are, who I want.”

“So, I’m not right for someone like you. That was what I had tried to tell you.
Then
. Then I believed all that. Or thought I did. I tried to convince myself of all the differences between us and soon they were all I saw. It was easier that way, ya know? Easier to see the differences and convince myself it would never, ever work. Not really, not in the long run. After all, it didn’t before. I know that’s not fair. I know it was stupid, but it was how I felt then. There were too many parallels to my before and I . . . I just . . .”

He raised his brows.

“Freaked. Got scared and freaked. And ran as fast as I could from a wonderful man that I loved so much it scared me. I’m my own worst enemy.”

He shook his head. “Why? I get I should have told my family and I’m sorry, but what did I do to make you think—”

“Nothing. God, nothing, Quin. That’s what’s so messed up.” She walked to the window. “His name was Lance. Before, I was young and stupid and naively in love. College. I was on scholarship to Tulane. My mother had died before I graduated. Then I met Lance. Lance was . . .” She smiled, remembering . . . “We fell in love. That first hard, true love. Ya know? We spent all our time together and I weaved all sorts of happily-ever-afters in my mind. With my liberal arts degree and my marketing and his business we’d work together. Then I found out I was pregnant.” She felt him start beside her. Turning, she saw the question in his eyes. “He was ecstatic, or said he was. Asked me to marry him, told me I’d be meeting his parents. I bought a dress and everything. I was so nervous, so excited. I so wanted to make a good impression.” She sighed. “But I didn’t meet his parents. He showed up and said that something had come up, but not to worry, I’d meet them later.” She rubbed her arms. “I should have known then. But I was busy living in a fantasy world of my own making. We went to the justice of the peace a couple of weeks later. I asked about his parents. He told me they were in Europe.” She shook her head again. “I never, ever questioned him. I guess I should give the man some credit. He tried to do the right thing. He did try.”

Quinlan shifted beside her. “Trying is an excuse p— losers give when they didn’t go all or nothing. Then again, I never should have walked out that door.”

Of course, all or nothing as he was.

She focused on the dormant aspens in the courtyard. “We got an apartment. A really nice one, nicer than anything I had ever lived in. I was busy with school and wondering how I’d finish and be a good wife, and mother, and I was so scared. I remember being scared. I noticed he was quieter a bit more than usual, withdrawn. Then one afternoon, when he wasn’t home, the knock came.” She didn’t turn to Quin. “His parents. Mr. and Mrs. Montinaire were
not
happy. They’d met him earlier that day, I was told. I knew he was wealthy, but had no idea who he really was. Why did I care? I just loved him. He loved me, or so I thought. Maybe he did, it hardly matters. They didn’t believe me.” She looked to Quin. “Someone like me, and those were her words, was
not
good enough for their son. I was the wrong type of woman for their family.” She swallowed and tried not to remember how much that had hurt. “I tried to be nice. My mother had always said that smiles get you more than scowls. But it didn’t work on them.

“They owned real estate in New Orleans. A lot apparently. And an old family plantation or something. Someone with my background was
unsuitable
for their son. After all, a daughter of a stripper and bartender must only see Lance’s money, and I and the bastard I carried were not going to derail the plans their son had worked so hard to achieve. His father wrote me a check for three million dollars to leave their son alone. I remember feeling so insulted and thinking how idiotic these people were. I told them I didn’t want their money, or their son’s money. To which his mother replied that as long as he was married to me, he had no money. I told them to leave. They left the check and told me to be smart and not to fight them or make it difficult for Lance.”

She still didn’t turn, even as she knew he stood just behind her, felt the warmth from his body.

“He didn’t come home that night. I know; I sat up all night on the couch telling myself it would be okay. He came in the next afternoon, looking horrible. I was worried and scared. The damned check still sat on the counter.” She remembered the mass of feelings for that stupid boy. And he had been a boy. “He was just a boy, I suppose, just didn’t get it. I didn’t see it until then. He walked to me and said, ‘I’m sorry, Ella. I’m so sorry,’ and then he walked back to our bedroom. I still thought, poor man. To have parents like that. I think maybe I even said something like that. He said nothing, just got the bag out of the closet and started packing. I realized at some point he was talking to me, telling me that he’d talked to his parents, that he’d bought the apartment for me and it was paid for. I could keep it. And he’d see about getting me more money, so the baby and I wouldn’t ever have to worry.”

“Bastard,” someone said.

She just looked out the dining room window to the courtyard beyond. The setting sun painted the sky periwinkle and peach.

“For a minute, I remember I didn’t understand. He just finished packing, his face a face I didn’t understand. I asked him about the baby. How could he do this? In this century? It wasn’t like we were in the fifties or sixties or whenever. People made their own lives all the damned time now. It was the freaking age of dot-commers, for God’s sake.” She shook her head. “He just looked at me and said, ‘With my family, it would never work. I’m sorry.’ He was sorry. He just left.” She swallowed. “I was so upset. So upset. I remember shaking, thinking some way I could fix this. I could . . . Trying to figure out how I could be
better
for him. So that I’d be good enough.” She shook her head, felt Quin’s hands settle on her shoulders.

“He was a stupid idiot. And he wasn’t even in the realm of good enough for you.”

“Oh, I know that now, but then I didn’t. The pains woke me up. The bed was bloody. I called an ambulance and Lance. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.”

“Your mom?” Quinlan asked.

She shook her head. “No, she’d died my sophomore year of college. Left work and someone . . .”

“Killed her, you told me that. I’m sorry,” Quinlan told her.

“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged. “I woke up in the hospital and there was Lance. The doctors were kind, the nurses kind. He just kept saying he was sorry.”

She frowned. “But then, I’d seen, hadn’t I? He wasn’t the man I thought he was. Just a boy who didn’t want to disappoint Mom and Dad, and I wouldn’t want him to, not if I wasn’t important enough to him. I didn’t care at that point. I’d lost my baby.” She turned back to Quinlan. “His parents had the marriage annulled—quietly, of course. They didn’t want anyone to know of his little indiscretion. I kept the money. Sold the apartment and then, later, went back to finish my degree. Bought the house in the Quarter and just . . . cruised along. Loved my life, was content.”

She smiled at him. “Until you. You slammed into me, literally, and nothing was the same after that. I told myself I was stupid. Didn’t I learn the first time? I guess I figured if I left first, then you couldn’t leave me. What he did to me wasn’t easy . . . I remember being so lost. Lance broke my heart. But you—you could have shattered my soul and I knew it from the first. So I left, before I got hurt. Though that was a lie, too. When I asked if you’d told anyone . . . Even though I knew the answer . . . I wanted you to be different, and then I saw, even as I knew and it hurt.” She took a deep breath.

“When I found out about the baby, that was one hell of a surprise. I picked up the phone to call you I don’t know how many times. But I always chickened out. I saw myself making the same stupid mistakes. A man, a hasty wedding, a baby he might not want, a rich man, a woman his family wouldn’t approve of.”