Kenton (21 page)

“You are.” He stood up and came around the bed at her. “You’re not dressed yet. If

we hurry, I can take you to your bed at the house and make love to you before the shit

hits the fan here.”

Kenton was joking, she knew that, but she reached for him. When he held her,

pulling her body to his, things seemed to flow around her but not touch her as badly

this time. Fear and love didn’t necessarily cancel each other out, but they did make

them feel less overwhelming for a moment or two.

“I’m afraid.” Kenton told her that he had her and that he was never going to let her

go, not ever. “While we’re there, maybe we can see if we can open the safe Douglas said

was there. And see what we want to do with the place.”

“All right. And Vance suggested that we have someone come out and change the

locks on the house. Grady has some of his shifter buddies going out now to make sure

that when we arrive, we’re all alone.” Emma thanked him. “They love you, you know

that, right? My brothers and my mom, they’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“I love them as well.” She laid her head on Kenton’s chest and listened to his heart

beating. Dragon, too, was there, the heat of him seeming to lull her into some kind of

comfort she’d not had before. Looking up at Kenton, she told him that she would love

him forever.

As they left the hotel, she thought of her mother. She was in some serious shit right

now, and Emma hoped she got a front row seat to it all.

~~~

Anderson wanted to look her best. Her story, why she was just showing up, the

best she’d ever heard, was ready and she was sure that no one was going to have a dry

eye in the place when she told it. By the time that she was going to tell the world where

she’d been and why, her daughter was going to be dead, along with her lover and his

entire family. Sadly, they were moving in front of the line of fire and were killed

needlessly. Even her daddy was going to be caught up in the cross-fire. All in one

smooth move, she thought.

“You look beautiful.” Anderson turned and smiled at Steward. He was going to be

dead soon too. He’d become a liability to her in that she wasn’t into sharing her wealth

with anyone. Then there was the added fact that she’d found herself another lover, one

that took his time with her first and had a dick worth having slammed up in her. Just as

soon as they entered the courthouse, Steward was going to die. His body, dead and

bleeding, would be the first of many that would be running on the news tonight.

“People are going to wonder how you have a daughter as old as Emma.”

“I have good genes.” They both laughed. “You made sure that Daddy knew about

the wedding today too, right? I bet he’s loading his guns up right now, ready to kill

them all. It’s really too bad that he won’t get to use them the way he wants. I’m hoping

that I get to see him one more time before he dies, just to tell him what a fool he’s been.”

“I made sure he knew about it, anyway. He has as many people working for him as

I do, if not a little more. Also, you should try really hard to not smile like you know

something before we get there. Remember, you’re going there to claim your inheritance

now that your evil bastard of a husband is finally dead and you no longer have to be in

hiding.” Anderson nodded. “And try not to look too terribly pleased when your

daughter is killed. It won’t play well with the press. I think you should carry a box of

tissues with you. That way if you feel the need to gloat, you can hide it with one of

them.”

“I know that. And I have a lovely hanky that I had specially made for this dress and

the one that I’m going to go to their funeral in. It’s beautiful, and I almost hate wearing

it to that sort of thing.” Anderson had it all planned out. It had taken her hours of

practicing in front of her mirror to get the right expression down. And falling too. To

faint with class was something that she thought she had perfected. “You know to say

you knew nothing about any of this, right? You didn’t say anything to anyone, did

you?”

“No. Just to Baldwin about the wedding. And I made sure that there was a paper

trail of me telling him. I know that all my files and shit drove him crazy, but a man has

to have his tracks covered in the event that things go south fast. Baldwin didn’t seem all

that excited to have not just the date but the exact time that he could go in and avenge

your death. But he has it.” She had heard that before. Her father seemed to be

distracted, Steward had told her. Anderson was sure he was just getting old and had

told him to forget it. But apparently he had not. She wanted to point it out again but he

started talking again. “I looked for your father’s will while I was there the last time.

Either he mislaid it again or he’s put it in his files. I didn’t have time to look there before

he came into the office. I thought for sure that he’d left the house, and nearly didn’t

know what to say when he asked me what I was doing.”

“We need to find that will so I can make sure that he didn’t change it. You have

been most unhelpful in that department. But he wouldn’t have changed it, I know that.

My father thinks he is going to live forever.” He’d told her that often enough when

she’d been living at home. That he’d made a pact with the devil and was never going to

leave this earth until he had every penny he could lay his hands on. “The only reason

he made a will in the first place was because I made him. I even wrote out all the things

that he was to leave me when he passed. He’d never get it right. The man was forever

forgetting to put the lid on the juice container in the refrigerator. Daddy is the most

absent-minded person I know.”

Laughing to herself, Anderson knew that every word out of her mouth just now

was a lie. Her father was the sharpest man she had ever known. He knew where things

were when she moved them without his knowledge, and would remember names of

people that he’d worked with decades ago. But he loved her. And in that, he would

never want to change his will to even think that his little girl was gone. It was what she

was counting on.

“His limo is picking him up in an hour. The ceremony begins ten minutes before he

gets there. I’m timing it so that he makes a grand entrance and a final death scene all in

one. I’m going to be standing outside the courthouse steps waiting on him too.”

Anderson tried not to be excited about the death of the two men in her life, and was

almost afraid to speak for fear of giving it away. Instead of speaking, Anderson sort of

half listened as Steward gave her a rundown of his plans.

Her passport was ready to go with her new name. There were two credit cards with

her name on them as well, and as soon as the money was deposited in her new

identity’s account, she was going to go on a shopping spree that would last a week.

After that, if she wanted to, she was going to have her new house outfitted the way she

had always dreamed of, and then she’d find her a rich old man to marry and drain him

dry as well. Maryanne Cantrell was going to be one of the wealthiest women in the

world when Anderson was finished with her. And she’d be the hit of every party

around. Maryanne was going to be making up for all the shit that Anderson hadn’t

been able to do while she’d been in hiding.

“Do you know what the holdup is on Bartholomew’s money? I thought by now

someone would have said something about it.” Steward said he was still looking for the

lawyer on that one. The one that her husband had used for other things said he’d never

been involved in that part of Bartholomew’s personal life. “Well, the sooner we get that

settled the faster we can get out of town when this is done. Emma hasn’t been told

anything either, as far as I know. I asked her about it just yesterday morning, and even

though she was only half answering me, she did say that as far as she knew the will had

not been settled yet. She said that she’d let me know when she knew something

important.”

Her daughter. Anderson had never really liked being a mother. And especially one

to Emma. She looked a great deal like Anderson, but also bore a striking resemblance to

Bartholomew. Emma was also more beautiful than Anderson had ever been or would

ever be. It was another reason she had to go.

Bart, she knew, wasn’t Bartholomew’s. She’d take that bit of information to her

grave. The man she’d been having an affair with had been a pretty good lover, but he’d

been stupid and had pissed her off. Killing him in a fit of rage had been dumb on her

part, but there were no witnesses to his demise, and Bartholomew had raised Bart as his

own. Which was good for all those around. She wondered for a moment how much he

would have gotten had he lived, and smiled at the thought of how much dear Bart had

missed out on.

“I guess I should have tried harder to find the will while he was alive. I mean, for

all we know, the safe could hold a new will that leaves you nothing.” Anderson asked

him why he’d say something like that to her today of all days. “You ever find the

combination? If you had looked harder and not been practicing your grief, we might

have a better idea what he bought the thing for. As it stands right now, you have this

enormous steel trap in your home, and for all you know, it could hold the whereabouts

of everybody you ever killed.”

Anderson didn’t say anything. She wanted to pull a gun and blow Steward’s

fucking head off, but bit her lip to keep from screaming at him. It was getting harder

and harder by the minute to be around this man. She was glad that today was going to

be the last.

She went to put on her shoes and realized that she’d not brought them. This would

simply not do, she thought.

“I don’t know why it matters,” Steward told her when she said she had the wrong

shoes. “Just wear those. They’re black. They’ll go with everything. Do you really think

that anyone is going to be looking at your feet right now?”

“I will not wear black shoes with a blue dress. What is wrong with you? Do you not

realize how much time I’ve gone into with this outfit? It says beautiful without being

too over stated. My shoes complete it. Now run to the house and get them. The blue

ones.” He stared at her, and she thought that his quick death wasn’t going to be

enough. “Well, what are you waiting for? We are running short on time for you to be

foolishly standing there.”

“They’re just shoes, Anderson. Any picture that might be taken of you at the crime

scene is going to be in black and white anyway, not one person is going to say,
‘Holy

shit, Martha. Look at the woman. She didn’t even have the decency to put on the right colored

shoes for this murder and mayhem.’
Get real. No one cares.” Nodding, she bit harder on

her lip and wondered if there was any way she’d bite through it before someone

noticed how pissed she was. “I’m not going for them. If you want them, then go get

them, but I have to be in front of the courthouse when your dad gets there. If not, who

will lead him into the building and into the aim of the gunman? You do what you need

to, but I have a job to do.”

He had a point. But she wasn’t going to wear the black shoes. Anderson had an

image in her head that the newspapers were going to have, and being dressed sloppily

wasn’t going to make it. As soon as he left her, Anderson slipped on the black shoes,

hoping no one would notice what she’d been reduced to, and went to the lobby. She

might not be able to make it home, but there were plenty of places she could shop for

shoes.

The store was busy, which pissed Anderson off. She knew that she was being

unreasonable, but she had places to go right now and this woman who was

monopolizing all the clerk’s time was only getting new shoes for church, which was still

a couple of days away. Finally, having had enough, she asked the clerk if he could find

her the shoe she wanted in her size.

“I can. Just as soon as I’m finished with Mrs. Clark here.” He grinned at the older

woman as he continued. “I’m the only one here, but I’m getting things done, don’t you

think, my dear? If you’d like to have a seat over there, I’ll be with you in a minute or

two.”

“No, I don’t want to have a seat over there. I want waited on. I’ve been here for

over ten minutes already and I have things to do.” The man looked at the clock over the

counter, then back at her. “I don’t care how long you think I’ve been here. I can tell

time, and I know for a fact that I’ve been here ten minutes. Now, do you have this shoe

in my size or not?”

Mrs. Clark, smart woman that she was, told little Ted to go ahead and wait on her.