Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (14 page)

“He’ll be back soon,” Zack promised her. “Raising hell and more protective than ever.”

Slade spoke then. “The divide between Kin and Brighams is only going to get wider with this little stunt—as though tensions aren’t high enough as it is.”

Tension was high, too high, Grace thought. Abnormally high, considering the lack of actual fuel from both parties. Someone else was fueling it, she could feel it, she’d sensed it as she looked at all the pictures, frowning over them, trying to see what her father had seen when he took the earlier ones and how they connected to the ones taken after her father’s death.

She was going to have to talk to her uncle to see who had taken the later pictures as well.

At that thought, a hard spasm twisted her back, drawing a sharp cry from her lips even as Zack moved, drawing her closer to him and kneading the knotted muscles.

The feel of his hands on her back, pushing against the painfully drawn flesh, working it free and warming the chill rushing through her, was incredibly relaxing. Within minutes, the pain eased, leaving her breathing heavy but not so labored as it had been.

“I’m going to kill someone,” she croaked, only then realizing how dry her throat had become.

“Get her some water,” Zack ordered whoever stood behind him. “Just a minute, sweetheart, it’ll get better.”

“Better be,” she muttered, “or I’m killing Brigham myself.”

Alexander had to have been behind it; the question was, had Tory been behind it as well?

God, she’d never drink tea again. At least not anything made by anyone else. Commercial tea bags were wonderful things, she decided, and they tasted just fine, too.

“I want to talk to Tory,” she whispered as Zack pressed a cup of water into her hand and helped her ease it to her lips.

“We’ll talk about that later,” he informed her after she’d finished drinking. Turning, he placed the cup on the nightstand.

“I talk to Tory now. Or the minute I catch your back turned, I’m having all of Dad’s old antique furniture moved in here and I’m redecorating the entire house.”

*   *   *

Zack stared at her for long, silent moments, their gazes locked, neither blinking. For a single, horrifying moment, he’d almost agreed to the redecorating over allowing Tory anywhere near her.

“I don’t like wood furniture,” he gritted out, the thought of having his home look as dark and dreary as the Brigham Estate sending a shudder up his spine.

“I’m not arguing with you, Zack,” she sighed, weariness pulling at her. “It’s either–or. Tory or wood furniture, take your pick.”

She was exhausted, she had to be, he knew. The drug created to compel the truth from Kin and Brigham agents alike wasn’t easy on the system.

Slade or Jazz snickered from the other side of the bed.

“You want to see her after she drugged you?” he bit out furiously. “Did you lose your mind somewhere, Grace? Is that drug that damned powerful?”

Her lips thinned. Brushing her hair back from her brow with a shaking hand, she gave him a look that demanded he give in to her. That emerald gaze didn’t even flinch, despite his glare. That look reminded him of Vince when the other man was at his most determined.

“She’s dangerous!” he snapped. “For all we know,
she
drugged you. Dammit, Grace.”

Grace turned to Jazz and Slade. “Have any old, heavy wood furniture you want to get rid of?”

Slade turned his back and rubbed at his neck, though his shoulders seemed to be trembling with laughter.

“They wouldn’t dare…” Zack growled.

“Well, hold up there,” Jazz protested. “If she asks Kenni to get in on it, then I might not have a choice. Kenni can get testy sometimes, and when she does, she goes and visits her family. For a long time.” The frown on his face indicated his displeasure.

Kate and Lara were looking on with no small amount of amusement.

Zack narrowed his eyes on Grace. “I’ll spank your ass if you dared.”

“And I might like it.” She wrinkled her nose back at him, though the argument was seriously getting old at this point. Firming her lips and lifting her chin, she stared up at him, far more determined than he could have imagined. He didn’t want to dictate to her. “Don’t turn this into an issue between us, Zack,” she sighed, shaking her head, too tired to continue arguing. “Stay in the room if you want, but I will talk to her, whether you like it or not.”

There was a glint to her eye that had a chill of unease working down his spine. She might or might not be joking about changing the house, but even if she was joking, he had a feeling that too tactful, supposedly sweet-natured Grace was far more trouble than he’d suspected.

“Lara,” he said between gritted teeth, his gaze still locked with Grace’s.

“Uh, yeah, Zack? Want me to go get Miss Brigham?” She was laughing her ass off at him; he could feel it.

“If you don’t mind,” he growled. “And no one else. If anyone tries to follow her, you call for me.”

“Got it,” she agreed cheerfully. “Most men don’t fuck with me when I get mean, though. Or at least, not for long,” she announced as she strode quickly from the room and into the hall.

Silence filled the room.

“We’re going to discuss this,” he promised Grace. “In depth.”

*   *   *

Sure they would, Grace thought, holding back a yawn. All she wanted to do at this point was sleep. He’d have to wake her up first. Before she could sleep, she had to talk to Tory, though, had to make her friend understand that she didn’t blame her for something someone else had done.

Who had done it, she wasn’t certain. Whoever ordered it would have known of her and Tory’s habit of drinking tea together. Grace liked hers steaming hot, while Tory waited until hers was merely good and warm. Grace always took the violet tea bag while Tory took the blue. It would have been so simple to ensure it was Grace who drank the doctored tea rather than Tory.

Moments later, Tory entered the room. Her face was pale, evidence of crying still spiking her black lashes. Her expression was composed, even chilly. Tory had on her stoic face, the one she used to deal with the difficulties that often arose as part of life with her father.

She came to the side of the bed, her hands clasped in front of her, her shoulders tense and straight as she stared down at Grace. “I’m sorry this happened…” she began.

“Tory, sit down and stop acting like you have to take the blame for what you believe your father did,” Grace ordered her with an exhausted sigh. “I’m too tired for this.”

Tory’s lips quivered once before she turned her head away, but she sat down at the side of the bed, staring toward the windows emotionlessly.

“I don’t believe you drugged the tea or allowed it to be drugged. I don’t even believe your father did,” Grace stated.

Tory swung her head around, surprise flashing in her gaze. “Who else?” the other woman demanded. “Who else would have a reason?”

That was harder, but Grace knew the family, knew the agents who worked within the home, two of whom had accompanied Victoria, her father, and her brother to Zack’s. “If I had to guess, then it was Peters.” Grace frowned. “His sole purpose is to protect your father at all costs. He could have had it done, and one of the agents who came with you would have been there if by chance your father demanded I be questioned despite the deceit. He’d done things before without your father’s direction.”

Rubbing at her arms, Tory nodded slowly. “Better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission,” she murmured. “Peters’s favorite motto.”

Grace nodded, aware of Zack watching her and Tory closely from the other side of the room with Jazz, Slade, and the two Blanchard sisters, Kate and Lara.

“Don’t say anything to your father, though he’s likely figured it out. We’ll take care of Peters when I arrive next week for your birthday party.”

Shock turned Tory’s face blank for a moment before her eyes began to sparkle in delight. “You’re still coming to the party?”

“After the amount I spent on that damned dress and those shoes?” Grace snorted. “Zack would be risking his life keeping me away from it.”

“Grace.” Victoria shook her head then. “How can you be so certain I wasn’t involved in this?”

“You would have slipped in a few questions before calling for help.” Grace grinned. “If you believed I’d betrayed our families and our friendship to the extent that I’d help Luce, then you would at least have asked that question and claimed you had just taken advantage of what someone else set into motion. You were too shocked and frightened when that drug kicked in.”

Tory shook her head, her brow tightening with the anger still rushing through her. “I’ll kick Peters’s ass myself.”

“We both will,” Grace promised, smothering a yawn. “As soon as I get there.”

Covering Grace’s hand with her own, Tory gave it a firm squeeze, her version of a hug. Tory hadn’t been hugged a lot, not as a child or as an adult. She’d grown used to Grace’s hugs, but giving one on the spur of the moment was something she hadn’t yet mastered. “Thank you for being such a valued friend, Grace,” she whispered.

“No thanks needed.” A yawn slipped out, barely covered as Grace hurriedly lifted her free hand to her lips. “Sorry.”

“You’re tired.” Tory shook her head. “No apology needed. I’ll clear everyone out now and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Grace promised, feeling the weariness crashing inside her as the edges of sleep crept closer.

“Lara, you and Jazz take Tory downstairs and tell that mess to get the hell out of my house,” Zack ordered. “If they’re still there when I come down, then we’re going to have problems.”

“Madden wants a moment of your time before we leave,” Tory stated, her voice quiet as Grace felt her lashes lowering, exhaustion crashing over her now. “He told me to tell you he wasn’t leaving without speaking with you first.”

What Zack said in reply, Grace didn’t have a clue. Giving in to the pull of the darkness crowding ever closer, she allowed herself to sink into it and let the comforting tendrils of sleep wrap around her mind.

She had a feeling she’d need all her strength to convince Zack she must attend that party. It was more imperative than ever.

*   *   *

She thought she was going to attend that damned party?

She really thought he was going to let her so much as get out of the damned county after this?

Raking his fingers through his hair, Zack could feel the pounding fury mixing with an overload of frustration where Grace was concerned.

How did she actually manage to get past every instinct he had to protect her? He should never have let Tory upstairs. Hell, he’d known better. He’d known that the friendship she thought she had with Victoria Brigham would become a damned problem.

Stomping down the stairs after leaving Kate to watch over Grace, Zack could feel Jazz and Slade at his back, the two men no less pleased with the results of this meeting than Zack himself.

There was no way to convince Grace of the danger involved in attending that party when someone was obviously out to destroy her. She’d crashed the minute she finished speaking to Tory. She’d wake up, though. In a couple of hours, she’d be completely recovered and ready for the objections Zack intended to unleash on her. Until then, he could expend part of his frustration and fury on Madden Brigham.

And he was damned sure looking forward to it.

chapter ten

Zack wasn’t in bed with her the next morning when she awoke. Grace was equally relieved and disappointed. She’d at least expected him to be lying beside her, but if she was going to be to work on time, then it was better that he wasn’t.

She showered quickly before blow-drying her hair and dressing in a beige skirt, silk cami, and three-inch heels. Her leg was feeling much better, and thankfully it was high enough on her thigh that it didn’t show beneath the above-knee cut of the slender skirt.

A quick application of makeup, a pair of hoop earrings, and a slender gold chain around her neck, and she was ready to go. She might have just enough time for coffee.

After grabbing her purse from the dresser and checking that her cell phone was still in it, Grace left the bedroom and hurried downstairs for that cup of coffee before having Zack drive her to the farmhouse. She’d see about getting her car later.

Zack was sitting at the counter with a steaming cup of coffee and a newspaper, his head lifting as she entered the room. She would have said good morning if his expression hadn’t instantly snapped into a glare.

“Don’t give me your grouch face this morning,” she ordered him. “What the hell’s your problem, anyway?”

She really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his arrogant-know-it-all opinions, and she had a feeling she knew exactly which direction those opinions were going to take.

It was too damned bad he looked good enough to take a bite out of as he sat there, too. That domineering expression, his overnight shadow of a beard, shaggy hair. Suddenly, he wasn’t Rigor’s accountant any longer. He was the bad boy every woman dreamed about. That rough-and-tumble lover who would give no quarter and damned sure wouldn’t ask for any.

A dark gray shirt, the top two buttons free, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the bottom tucked into jeans that rode his hips like a lover’s legs, and that wide leather belt. The belt buckle would be plain, but the bulge beneath it wouldn’t be.

“Please tell me you don’t intend to go to your uncle’s this morning,” he sighed, shaking his head—probably because he knew better than to ask. He sounded just as put out as he looked.

Did he believe she dressed like this to deal with him? There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell. Denim and steel-toed boots, maybe, but never a skirt and heels. “Why else would I get all dressed up?” She held her hands out to her side as she faced him before turning to pour her coffee. “Besides, there are some files I need to look at, and they can’t be copied or taken from the office. That’s the only place I can look at them.”

Her uncle’s closed system, kept locked in his office, didn’t permit anyone to print or send information across the Internet; Vince had made certain of it. The information he kept there could put every man with the Kin in danger, along with their families. Those files spanned information from generations of Kin. Family affiliations, Kin bloodlines, commanders and each man assigned to them, routes never used by Kin but accessible to them. Political and social contacts, who donated funds to the agency’s coffers for the Kin and who Vince considered enemies.