HellKat (21 page)

Tucker’s fingers pounded an angry beat on the armrest. “Aw, Cam, what did I really know back then? I can see it for what it was now. You takin’ out the trash, that’s all. You were just doin’ me a favor. That’s what brothers are for, right?” Cameron snorted. “Can’t tell ya how much I appreciate that,
and
how happy I am
you’re
the one payin’ child support. Even though you tried your best to pin it on me.” Cameron muttered a string of unintelligible words. “And who would know the smell of trash better than you? That’s where you waste all your time diggin’ around lookin’ for any little bit of anything. And when you can’t find anything? Well, you just make shit up.” Tucker sighed in exasperation, squeezed at his forehead. “It’s time to return the favor,
brother
. I should have a long time ago.”

“Is that some kind of weak-ass threat, Williams?”

Tucker filled the room with humorless laughter. “Pressed record as soon as you saw who was callin’, right?”

His tormentor spat in disgust. “Hardly matters. You’re gonna be up to your eyeballs in shit so fast you won’t know which end is up. I just hope this time you choke on it.”

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. I always end up on top. You should know that better than anyone, with my boot print branded on your ass!”

“Fuck you, Williams! You’re gonna have inspectors and Feds so far up your ass, you’ll wish your junkie whore of a mother had never sold you!”

Tucker’s lungs stopped midbreath. His grip on the cell tightened to the breaking point, his focus pinpointing all his fury like a laser. He should’ve left the son of a bitch to die all those years ago. He released his bottled rage in a slow exhale, followed by a measured inhale that always managed to pull some of the expelled rancor back inside.

“Get your house in order, Cam. Your time’s almost up.” The icy chill in his tone cut with clean precision. He ended the call with a jab to the screen, shutting down the incoherent bluster on the other end.

Then he waited like a statue. Waited for the buzz in his ears to stop, the tightness in his chest to abate, the relentless pound of his pulse to slow. His eyes flicked back to the photo of him and Kat. Happier times, better days. He felt the razor-sharp edges soften, the bite of words and the sting of memories dissolve into the shadows. He could do this. He could reel it in—for her. For the future he wanted, and the woman he wanted to spend it with.

****

Kat’s eyes darted around the concrete space, strewn papers, old photos, and medical records scattered about. She looked down at the coroner’s report now quivering in her hand. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. A bead of sweat streamed down her face. Or was it a tear? She dropped the papers and swiped under her eyes.

As she towered in judgment above her family’s secrets, she eyed her father’s journal. His words were a jumbled mess fighting for equal time in her brain. However, one sentence screamed louder than all the others right now:
She loved you more than anything
. Kat gulped in air as if she were drowning, suffocating under the weight of emotions, images, and betrayals. She needed to focus. She needed to be in control.

She closed her eyes and pictured Tucker, her business, her goals. Everything she’d worked hard for, everything that mattered. As her erratic breathing calmed, her lashes lifted with a flutter. A bored voice echoed over the PA system, announcing the facility’s closure in a half hour. Kat surveyed the mess she’d made as she’d unearthed one lie after another in this muggy tomb.

She pushed off the wall and in stiff movements dumped cardboard contents into empty plastic containers. She made quick work of collecting all the loose papers and returned the small humid area back to some semblance of organization. She hated leaving any of it here, but had been told by her father in their final conversation, and again in his letter,
it would keep her safe
. He wanted her to be safe, to be smart.

Those words, spoken and written, clamored in her head, although she already knew her idea of how to stay safe wasn’t exactly the same as his. Unlike her father, she had no qualms about bringing the James family to their knees. She’d relish dragging them through the mud, kicking and screaming all the way.

She desperately needed to right her world, now hanging precariously on the edge, the truth now having colored everything in its cold, unforgiving brushstrokes, including a swipe across her heart.

Kat watched the door grind closed on what seemed like someone else’s life. Couldn’t be hers. Could it? A part of her wanted to hold on to the life she’d known before today. That part of her wanted to wake up tomorrow still perplexed by her mother’s aloofness and Parker’s animosity.

Her life had bisected without warning. And from this point on, there would only be her life
before
stepping into this storage room, and her life
after
.

She yanked the taxi door shut as the first fat raindrops pelted the window. The driver merged into traffic, headed to the Queens Plaza Station while Kat swiped and scrolled through her phone. Tucker had left voice and text messages, but the reception had been nonexistent inside the hive of concrete walls. Just as well. She didn’t know what to say, what not to say. She needed time to think, alone. She fired off a text so he wouldn’t worry. Told him not to wait up, it would be late before she got back, and then switched her phone to airplane mode.

Heavy traffic and rain-slicked streets made for a slow trek to the subway terminal, but Kat used the time to reboot her brain. Get back online somehow. But no combination of keystrokes seemed able to reset the endless loop running in her brain.

After riding the line with its stinging stench and rocking locomotion, she’d hailed another cab and now found herself outside the plaza where J&P Enterprise occupied space high above. Kat shielded her eyes from the sun as it slid free from the clouds above, the humidity clinging to her skin in the early summer evening.

She entered the building and rode the elevator to her floor, staring at her reflection in the shiny doors, scrutinizing the stranger’s face glaring back at her. The doors slid open to a gush of refreshing, cooler air. Distraction and confusion stretched tight across her face, she entered J&P, keyed in the security code around the corner, and headed for her office. She dropped her bag on the bureau behind her desk and plopped down in her chair. Her eyes roamed the stacks of files and papers littering her desktop. The blinking message light on her direct line drew her attention along with the paper messages piled next to her phone. She’d neglected work since her father died—and left her with a target on her back. Lawyers had counseled her on her rights regarding Henry James’s will, and she would bring the hammer down on her brothers. But she hadn’t yet. There’d been too much to process, not to mention the unexpected void she still felt from missing a man she hadn’t even known that well. A man who had become even more of a stranger after the revelations in the storage room today.

She swiped away unruly hair from her eyes and slipped the strands behind her ears. How could she ever manage to keep up with her own business and clean up her family’s mess at the same time? She shook off the doubts and plowed with single-minded determination through the paperwork. She returned emails and rearranged her work calendar, blocking off sections of time and days she would need to spend at JAMESCO. Delegation would be the key at J&P. And she had a bright staff who could handle the additional responsibilities.

She already knew Parker and Charlie would do everything in their power to make her time at JAMESCO as difficult as possible. They would do anything to distract her, to cause her failure at both companies. But they didn’t know she was counting on their conceit to help her pull the rug out from under them. And Kyle? Well, he’d ignored her after the fiasco at the reading of their father’s will. And he was conveniently out of town, again.

Kat swiveled in her seat, dug her cell out of her bag, and circled back to flop her feet on top of her desk. She reclined, scrolling through her contacts. She landed on a handsome face, a number she’d promised herself she’d never call again: Dan Walsh. Christ, he was going to love winning their bet.

She contemplated hiring him to investigate JAMESCO back when she was still in Montana. But that was before her father’s death pushed her down a different track, toward the secrets and lies in the storage unit ... Now she needed Dan more than ever. He’d been a police officer turned private investigator, had made quite a name for himself back in the day. Now he ran a highly successful security firm with upscale clientele and a pricey menu of services and high-end monitoring systems. He’d always wanted to be a business owner, call the shots, and he’d made his dream come true. Dan Walsh was a man who knew how to get things done.

After the fourth ring he answered.

“Kat! How the hell are you?”

He was joking, right? He’d sent a sympathy card and flowers. She’d noticed him squeezed in at the back of the church; they’d even made eye contact before he’d ducked out.

“How the hell do you think I am, Dan? My father not only died but he left me with a stinking pile of shit to clean up.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about your father. I know it’s tough. And,” he cleared his throat, “you are a tabloid darling right now. Kind of hard to miss.”

“I want to make that go away.”

“How?”

“That’s why I’m hiring you.”

“Damn, I was hoping this was a personal call.”

She knew he was serious but trying to sound lighthearted.

“Well, you’ve seen the pictures. You know I’m with someone.” She felt confident he’d kept his distance at the funeral because of Tucker.

“Not the kind of guy I ever pictured you with.”

“Yeah, I know who you pictured me with.” She smiled for the first time today, at him, and at the memories, most of which were good. “I need you to put your skills to work for me.” She paused, closed her eyes, and mustered her strength. “I need your help, Dan.”

She could hear his gears grinding and could envision the long-awaited satisfaction on his clean-shaven face, the delight in his brown eyes as he no doubt celebrated the fact she finally needed him for something.

“You want me to redirect the stories away from you? Dig up some dirt and aim it at your dickhead brother, is that it?”

They’d known each other a long time. Long enough that Dan Walsh had heard all about Parker James. But Parker wasn’t the only one she had in her sights.

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“I need you to work your contacts on a cold case. I need it to get some airtime, copy space, any kind of coverage you can manage. The more, the better. I can supply you with information that should warm it up real fast. But I need you to be very careful who you talk to. Only use people you
know
you can trust, or it won’t go anywhere; it’ll only get buried deeper.”

“Who is it?” he asked.

She remained silent as she considered the skeletons waiting in the plastic containers she’d left behind. The secrets and lies that’d been locked away by money and corruption. The horror that had always been within reach ... watching her, waiting to strike.

The heartache of the past had come full circle.

“Kat? Are you still there?” Dan asked.

“Rose Kelley.” The whispered words hurt. “Queens. Jackson Heights.”

“Okay. Who is she?” Kat didn’t answer right away, too busy mulling over the possibilities, the strategy. “Kat, you can trust me. You’re my client now. This stays between you and me. Christ, it would anyway, you have to know that. I’d never do anything that would hurt you.”

She sat up straighter, rolled out the tension in her neck and shoulders. “I do trust you, Dan. That’s why I called you.”

“Then tell me what I’m doing here. Who is she?”

Kat thought carefully before answering, remembering her father’s words, both spoken and written. His pleas to be careful, to be smart, to use the information as a shield and not a weapon. However, in the end, she trusted her own instincts more than his safety directives. Even beyond the grave, Henry James wanted to control the situation. And above all, he wanted to keep the tarnish off his family name.

She felt no such loyalty.

She had no such weakness.

“Kat …?”

Decision made. The secret rolled off her tongue and slid past her lips with the cool conviction of a woman expecting justice. “Rose Kelley was my mother.”

The door stood ajar as Kat neared her apartment. She inched it open and spotted Tucker on the sofa, his elbows pressed to his knees, hands clasped, knuckles tapping at his chin. His focus was directed at the floor. She’d texted to let him know she was on her way. She hated to admit it, but she’d kind of hoped he’d be asleep. It was already after midnight and she felt hollowed out. She didn’t want to have this conversation yet. On the cab ride home, a part of her had even twisted with a bit of guilt over the fact that Dan had been the first person to hear the news, not Tucker. But it had to be done. She had to get him started right away.

Upon the click of the door closing, Tucker lifted his eyes to hers. Then he rose, approaching with a mix of doubt and anxiety on his tired face.

“Where the hell have you been, Kat?” She stood speechless, put off by his accusatory tone and the way he towered above her without her heels to lessen the disparity. His head cocked slightly. “You left before six o’clock this morning. Never did tell me where you were goin’. I get two text messages from you all damned day. That’s it? With everything that’s been going on, you don’t think you should’ve checked in a little more? Let me know you were okay. You didn’t have the time to even call?”

She skirted around him and chucked her bag on a chair. This had always been the part of relationships she’d sucked at. And she had a long track record to prove it—the whole couple paradigm, the
we
and
us
instead of
I
and
me
. The accountability had always tripped her up. The fact she’d texted him at all today had been a monumental improvement on her part.

“Really? You’re just gonna walk away.” His voice raised in ratcheting annoyance.

“I need to take a shower, Tucker.” She didn’t look back. “I need to wash this day off me.”

She shut herself in the bathroom, stripped, and stepped into the shower without even letting the water warm up. The ice-cold spray pricked like needle points, scattering the jangle of noise and the cluster of images in her head, shoving them into the shadows and freeing her mind for a much needed moment of peace. The fresh reboot was precisely what she’d needed to focus on the here and now, to consider Tucker’s words and acknowledge his right to be heard. To figure out how to give him what he needed, what he deserved, and what she wanted too. She knew how to be a partner in business. Now she needed to be a partner in this relationship.

The knowledge of the rocky road ahead, the confrontations and lawsuits to come, the loss of family—past and present, and the uncertainty of her future, all expanded in one overwhelming, heavy instant of panic and then contracted to a singular point.

She could get through all of this mess. She
would
get through all of it. And she wouldn’t have to carry the burden alone. She had an anchor in the storm. And he’d already held tight in rough waters like these on his own, a long time ago.

Stronger together
, his words echoed in her memory …

Kat startled, heart skipped, when the shower curtain ripped open, metal hooks screeching across the curved rod, a gush of cool air colliding with the blanket of steam cocooning her. Tucker’s eyes, cloudy with disappointment and set with determination, bore into hers. She faced him, hands clenched at her sides as she swallowed the knee-jerk reaction to yank back control of the flimsy divider and order him out.

“You’re not single anymore, Kat. Stop actin’ like you are.” His bellow reverberated in the small tiled room.

Outrage burned at her cheeks. “I wondered when you’d start sounding like all the others. What else is on your list of things
I
need to change?” Her palms itched to push him out and to lock the door this time.

His amused chuckle caught her off guard, crumbled her wall of self-righteous indignation. Then his expression turned serious, jaw clenched.

“You wanna compare me to all the others, darlin’? Knock yourself out, because you and I both know I’d end up on top every
damn time. Hell, I’m in a league all my own.” He inched closer, never taking his guileless eyes off hers, those eyes that saw everything, no matter where she hid it. “And unlike
all the others
, I don’t give up. And you don’t get to walk away from me, sweetheart.
Not. Me
. You’ve shut me out ever since your father died. I know how tough that is, but it’s more than that and we both know it.”

When she didn’t respond, his attention drifted above to the steamy spray of water, then trailed down the wall. “You take your shower.” His focus lifted back to her. “Then you’re telling me everything.” Pronouncement made, he pulled the curtain closed and shut the door behind him.

****

Kat towel-dried her hair and slipped on her pajama shorts and tee. Tucker leaned against the kitchen counter, his back to her, arms crossed, head hanging. He’d made her coffee; she smelled the roasted brew before she’d even opened the bathroom door. Then his head tipped back, revealing the bottle at his lips. He emptied the liquid and tossed the glass in the recycle bin.

She headed toward him and he dragged his long legs back out of her path so she could pass. Her eyes flicked to the bin with all the empty beer bottles, evidence he’d had a pretty shitty day too. She grabbed a mug, poured her caffeine fix, and scolded herself for the way she’d behaved earlier. Both of them were under tremendous pressure. She needed to remind herself of that, often.

She took a straight shot tonight. Nothing to soften or sweeten it. Just bitter and black. In no time, the sludge in her brain melted away and she was back in business.

“Thank you for the coffee.” Her apologetic face turned to meet his. “And I am sorry about earlier. The way I behaved, the things I said.” Her eyes darted to the empty beer bottles. “We both had bad days.”

He gripped her free hand and quietly led her into the living room where he angled himself in the corner of the sofa and waited for her to take her place wedged next to him. She pulled a velvety throw from the ottoman and covered them both. His arms tightened around her and she nestled against his neck. This was the best she’d felt all day.

“You want to tell me why you filled the bin with beer bottles today?”

He tipped her chin up, looked her square in the eyes. “No, I don’t. I want to know about your day, and I don’t care where you start. Just as long as you start.” His fingers brushed across her cheek.

She swallowed the apprehension, pulled his lips to hers, then pressed her forehead to his. She nodded with a sigh of relief, or equivocation; she couldn’t be sure. She pushed herself upright and slid down until her head rested on the back of the sofa, feet propped on the ottoman. She decided to start at the beginning, lay out the puzzle pieces before her, and then step back to look at the big picture.

“When I was at my father’s bedside before he died, he said things that didn’t make a lot of sense. Things he said I’d understand later.” She chuckled, but there was no humor. “After the reading of his will and the whole tug of war that’s caused, I thought that’s what he must’ve meant when he told me my life was going to change. As if that wouldn’t have been enough all by itself.” She watched their silhouettes play in the hazy shadows on the blank TV screen across from them. Tucker had moved next to her, one hand on her arm, the other draped along the back of the couch, his fingers circling in her hair.

“Anyway, he told me about a key I needed to get from his study. He’d hidden it in the binding of a book. He gave me the name of a storage warehouse in Queens and a unit number.” She paused, remembering the pulse of his breath next to her ear. “Told me what I’d find there would keep me safe. That I’d understand after I had time to sort through it. And no one but me should know where it was at.”

A swell of muddled feelings ached deep in her chest. She threw off the cover and reached over to turn off the lone lamp in the already dim room. That’s when the first tear fell. Kat traded her spot on the sofa for a view out the front windows. Only a moon sliver could be seen in the vast sky this night, stuck behind meandering clouds. Through the gauzy window coverings, she felt comfort in the sight of others sleepless and awake in the residences across the way and down below on the street. This city never slept, not soundly.

“What did you find, Kat?” His voice was subdued, uneasy.

She flipped his question over and over in her head, but no easy answer could be found. Just complications.

“Do you believe in fate, Tucker?” She pulled back the sheer fabric and searched the starless sky.

He watched her intently.

“I didn’t used to.”

The corner of her mouth curved up, long enough for him to catch sight of it. She abandoned the late-night skyline, shifted her focus to him. Instant recognition and mutual understanding fired between them, no words needed. Their connection was tangible, powerful.

“I didn’t used to, either.” Tucker pushed off the couch and approached her slowly. “But now it feels like the universe sent you to that bar to piss me off for a reason. Almost like everything happened the way it should have, the way it had to …” Her face was shadowed with questions in desperate need of answers.

He brushed away a damp lock of hair. “Well, somebody had to save you from that pretty boy behind the bar.” His lips were set tight, but the crease of his eyes hinted at a grin, and worry.

Kat grasped his hands, squeezed them, then backed away and rested against the wall. She eyed him with longing. “And myself. And what I might have done tonight, if you weren’t here, right now.”

He stepped closer. “What the hell did you find in that storage room, Kat?”

“Answers to questions I’ve always had, and others I didn’t even know to ask.” Tucker watched and waited. “I’ve always wondered why my mother seemed so distant. She’s never been the warm fuzzy type, and glaringly so with me; that’s what she paid the nannies for.” On a derisive snort, her eyes drifted out the windows and back up into the inky sky. “No, I’ve never been her favorite, and now I know why.”

His fingers raised her chin back to him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not her daughter, Tucker.” The admission visibly jolted him. “It’s all in that shithole storage room. My
original
birth certificate with my
real
mother’s name. My father’s name conspicuously absent—
unknown
.” Her bitter chuckle echoed around them. “He was more right about me than he ever knew. I am strong. A hell of a lot stronger than he ever was. He cowered under the pressure from his wife and father, and then used his money and power to cover up a scandal.” She spat the words with hot disgust.

I loved her, but I couldn’t destroy my whole world, Katie. In hindsight, I should have done exactly that, because her death shattered my world anyway
. The journal entry stung in her memory.

“Where’s your mother now, Kat? Does she still live in New York?”

Her wet, tormented eyes flicked to his. “Yes, she’s here. Six feet under in a pauper’s grave.” A grim smile darkened her face. “How fortunate for the James family that Rose Kelley was alone in the world. Much easier to drop her into a hole and throw dirt on her without reporters nosing around.” Kat bumped past Tucker and plopped down on the couch with a grunt.

“My father was a weak man. I never understood just how weak until today. He never should’ve sent me there. He didn’t know me well enough to understand I would never keep quiet about this like he did. No fucking way.

“He thought he was protecting me. Knowledge is power, and all that.” She snorted. “I plan on protecting myself, all right, while I bring my mother’s murderer to justice.”

Tucker’s face fell further. He dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands cupped her face and drew her closer. “How do you know that, Kat?” he said, his misgivings thick in his throat.

“Police reports. Coroner’s report. Newspaper clippings. My father’s journal with his admission of guilt, by association.” She paused. “And an extensive psych evaluation of the killer.”

He gripped her tighter. “You know who the killer is?” His eyes widened with alarm.

“Yes. And I don’t care whose world it destroys, I will make him pay for everything he’s done. I will make them all pay.”