One Night in Weaver... (12 page)

“Didn’t matter how many missions there were, though.” His fingers slid over her waist, slowing as they glided upward beneath her arms, along her ribs and brushed the outer curves of her breasts. He stepped closer and his head dropped as he kissed the top of her shoulder. “Never got to rid the world of the man who got away with killing my old man when I was eighteen.”

She inhaled, sliding her arms over his when they circled her waist, keeping her still when she would have turned to face him again. “What happened?”

“He was a partner in an outfitter company, and they were down in Corpus Christi to meet with a guy who wanted to buy them out.” His voice was low, rumbling against her shoulder. “Dad didn’t want to sell. Marcus, his partner, did. They’d been arguing about it for months. Bad arguments. The two of ’em went out on a boat while they were down there. Only one came back.”

She rubbed her palm over his arm, feeling the hard tendons beneath the water-slick hair and flesh. “I’m sorry.” No wonder he was so adamant about Jason’s guilt. It wasn’t suspicion that ruled him. It was personal history. “What happened?”

“The DA wouldn’t prosecute a case he considered unwinnable and Marcus walked, with a minor fortune in his pocket thanks to the store my pop loved. I tried to get a copy of the investigation. To see for myself. But the records were lost.”

“What about your mother? Where was she?”

“She didn’t want a kid. Especially one from a working-class guy like my old man. It was okay to mess around with somebody she considered low class, but beyond that?” He shook his head. “She dumped me with him when I was a baby and never looked back. It’s surprising she bothered having me at all.”

“Any other family?” But Hayley was afraid she already knew the answer.

“None that mattered.”

Her chest squeezed. “Seth.”

He ran the soap up between her breasts, stepping closer until there was no space left between her back and his front and she shivered despite the steaming water.

“Marcus was like a second father to me. But the second he could, he sold the business.” His voice was short. “I enlisted. Never saw him again.”

His empty hand covered her breast. “And that’s the short history of Seth Banyon,” he murmured and kissed the side of her neck. “Psychology one-oh-one, probably.” His thumb roved her over tight nipple, sending heat straight to her core.

“You’re not even close to a textbook.” Her voice was faint and she let out a low moan when his other hand slid over her abdomen, gliding down between her thighs. “I said you didn’t have to...” Her voice trailed off as his long fingers replaced the soap that fell unheeded to the shower floor.

“There’s ‘have to,’” his voice deepened as his slick fingers moved, “and there’s ‘need to.’” The hard length of him prodded against her. “Of all people, you should understand the difference.”

She shuddered, melting around his fingers. “Take what you need,” she whispered, tilting her head back and pulling his mouth to hers.

And he did. He took, and took, until she convulsed around his long, clever fingers, and then he turned her around, lifted her shaking legs around his hips and took some more, pressing her back against the glossy tile wall until she cried out his name.

And then, he gave.

* * *

She almost didn’t hear the call when it came hours later. And even then, she might not have if it weren’t for Moose’s barking.

Seth was already sitting up in bed, his bare shoulders visible in the gleam of moonlight through the blinds. “I’ll let him out.”

She rolled out of bed. There was never any happy reason for her phone to ring in the middle of the night. Usually, it meant the sheriff was dealing with some official crisis that necessitated a counselor. “My cell phone is ringing, too. I left it downstairs.” She nudged his hard shoulder. He’d admitted how little sleep he’d gotten over the past week. She was still shocked at the lengths he’d gone to. “Go back to sleep.” She scooped up her robe from the chair and pulled it on as she hurried out of the room.

The ringing stopped before she made it down the stairs, though Moose’s barking didn’t. She let him out into the backyard and was just retrieving her phone from her briefcase pocket when Seth came down the stairs, too. “I told you to sleep,” she said.

He gave her a look and finished zipping up his cargo pants.

She dragged her eyes away from his bare chest and focused on her phone.

Dread sank through her. Not the sheriff at all. “It was Tristan.” She recognized the number. “He didn’t leave a message.”

“If it’s about McGregor, he wouldn’t.”

“Who else would it be about but Jason?” She sat down on the bottom tread of the staircase and redialed the number.

Tristan picked up on the second ring. “Put Banyon on.”

She winced and held out the phone to Seth. “He wants you.”

Without expression, he took the phone and held it to his ear. “Yeah.”

Hayley rubbed her hands up and down her arms, watching Seth’s face. She couldn’t hear what Tristan was saying, but considering the man knew Seth was with
her
when he wasn’t supposed to be, she could imagine.

And a few moments later, without having spoken another word, the call was done. Seth held out the phone.

“Please don’t tell me that he’s fired you because of me.”

“He turned in Jason to the sheriff two hours ago.”

“What? You told me I had a week!”

When she didn’t take the phone, he set it on the table next to her briefcase.

She grabbed the wooden banister and pulled herself to her feet. Not once had she heard Seth refer to her patient by his first name. “Turned
him in to the
sheriff
,” she said. Not the federal government. “You mean voluntarily?”

He thrust his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Jason asked him to.”

“Why?”

“He remembered having the gun. Remembered where the bodies were.”

She pressed her tongue hard against her teeth, absorbing that. “Anything else? Like actually
using
the gun?”

“He turned himself in for murder, Hayley.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as odd for a man you say is trying to get away with it?”

He shoved his hands through his hair again. “Hell yes, it strikes me as odd!” He paced to the door and back again. “But no more odd than his leading us straight to him in the first place by using a known alias!”

“I want to talk to him. To Jason.”

His jaw clenched. “He doesn’t want to see you. That’s why Tristan told
me
. So I’d keep you from going to the sheriff’s station.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d ever had a patient turn away from her. But it was the first time in such a critical situation. “I want to hear that from Jason.”

“Doc—”

“He didn’t try to hurt me when we spent hours alone together during our sessions,” she interrupted. “He’s certainly not going to do anything locked in a jail cell! Whether you like it or not, the man is still my patient.”

He watched her from beneath hooded eyes. “And when he tells you he did it? He killed his partners?”

“Then you’ll be secure in the knowledge that you were right all along.”

His lips twisted. “I didn’t
want
to be right. I wanted you to be
safe
.”

She held out her arms at her sides. “Do I not look safe?” Because he couldn’t possibly say otherwise, she turned and started up the stairs. “How’d Tristan know you were here, anyway?”

“Because as good at disappearing and surveillance as I am, he’s got others even better.”

She stopped and looked down at him. “That does not make me feel better. This is tiny little Weaver. Stuff like that doesn’t belong here.” She flexed her fingers around the banister. Her heart was suddenly thumping hard in her chest. “Will you be here when I get back?”

He started up the stairs. “I’ll go with you.”

Her breath slid out of her. Her mind was swirling, but the only thing that came to her lips was a faint “okay.”

He reached her and unpeeled her clenched fingers from the banister. “Better move, Doc. This is a federal case. The sheriff will only have him for a short while.”

And you?

The words hung in her mind, but she couldn’t make herself ask them. Without Jason’s case hanging between her and Seth, would she have him only for a short while, too?

Chapter Eleven

O
nly two officers were inside the sheriff’s station when they arrived. The dark-haired sheriff, Max Scalise, personally escorted Hayley back to the holding cells while Seth cooled his heels in Max’s office.

“Tristan warned me you might come,” Max said as they went.

“I’m surprised he’s not here, too.”

“He was. He’ll be back.”

She knew the urge to warn Seth was childish. He was a grown man who didn’t want or need protection from her, even if she was in a position to offer it. Which she wasn’t.

Still, she had to concentrate harder than she should have to keep moving forward instead of back. Their footsteps sounded hollow in the empty, tiled corridor. “I appreciate you not trying to stop me from seeing Jason.”

“Known you long enough now to know that would be pointless.” Max stopped outside the door sectioning off the holding cells without opening it. “I’m allowing it only because you’ve always helped whenever my department’s needed you,” he said quietly. “McGregor hasn’t asked to see you. In fact, he’s stated pretty plainly that he doesn’t want to.”

“I heard. But I’m also concerned about his state of mind.”

“So am I,” Max said frankly.

“Has he asked for a lawyer?”

The sheriff shook his head.

She sighed. Even if Jason made a full confession, he should still have legal representation. “None of this would be happening in the first place if Hollins-Winword didn’t exist,” she murmured.

“Pretty sure Tristan has had a few thoughts along those lines himself,” the sheriff answered. “They’ve done a lot of good, though, too.”

“I know your wife is involved—”

“Occasionally,” he allowed. “Sarah has been involved. In the past. But my point is only to say that there’s a lot of history where Hollins-Winword is concerned. Some of it’s not pretty. But when you put things on a scale, the good has always outweighed the bad. Not even the agency can save him from murder charges. You ready to go in?” At her nod, Max pushed open the door leading to the holding cells and gestured her through.

Sam, wearing her uniform, was sitting in a chair outside the cells. She was obviously babysitting their only occupant.

Jason.

“You can head on home, Officer Dawson,” Max told her.

Sam nodded. Her gaze met Hayley’s for a moment before she left.

Jason was lying on the metal bunk affixed to the wall and didn’t budge even when Hayley spoke his name.

“I told them to keep you away,” he said.

She glanced at the sheriff and then at the door.

Max’s lips tightened, but he retreated after Sam, leaving her alone with Jason.

Once the door was closed again, she stepped up to the cell and studied the gaunt man through the bars. “You need to ask for a lawyer, Jason.”

He didn’t respond.

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“A noose.”

“Suicide’s no answer.”

“I killed my friends.”

She curled her fingers around one of the thick, cold bars. “You remembered?”

“I remember the gun. I remember the blood. Their bodies.” He threw his arm over his eyes. “Go away, Doc. You did your job.”

“A job I haven’t finished unless you remember more details than that.” She looked at the closed door behind her and then back at Jason. “One of my sisters is a public defender.”

“I don’t need a public defender.”

“I can ask her to recommend a lawyer for you.”

“Stop trying to help me.”

“Then start trying to help yourself!”

He finally looked at her. “I’ll get a damn lawyer if you’ll leave me alone and get
...
out. Go pick into somebody else’s head.”

Hayley hesitated. There wasn’t anything more she could do. Not without Jason’s cooperation. “But you can get word to me if—”

He’d thrown his arm over his face again.

She sighed, hating the feeling of failure inside her. Hating even more her dreadful suspicion that he hadn’t remembered actually committing the heinous deed. But she never had a chance to say anything more because the door opened behind her again and a half-dozen men in black suits filed in, jostling her brusquely aside.

“Hayley.” The sheriff took her arm, tugging her out of the way and back through the door. “I’m afraid you need to leave. Seth’s waiting for you in my office.”

She wanted to protest, but the strange man in the lead was flashing a badge and barking orders and the door shut in her face, leaving her alone in the corridor.

When she entered Max’s office, she found Seth squared off with Tristan. “The FBI’s here already?”

“And a few other agencies,” Tristan said. “McGregor’s a popular guy with them all right now. They’re having a pissing contest over who gets him first.”

Her fists clenched. She wanted to reach for Seth but held back. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

She nodded, her eyes searching his. “He didn’t remember,” she said baldly.

Tristan was the one to answer. “He confessed. Provided enough details to place him at the scene.”

“Undoubtedly he was. But did he tell you he aimed the gun at his associates and pulled the trigger? Did he tell you that he wanted them dead and made it happen? Or that they were arguing and in the heat of the moment, he lost it?”

Tristan’s expression was stony.

Which was answer enough. “Where are they going to take him? What’s going to happen to him?”

Seth’s hand slid up her back. “He’ll have a hearing. To determine whether the confession is acceptable or not.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“He’ll need a helluva good lawyer either way,” Tristan said. “Because their interest in him isn’t just because of Jon and Manny. They think he’s one degree of separation away from a terrorist group and that’s too damn close.”

Hayley was horrified. “That’s absurd! You have to help him.”

“Hollins-Winword can do a lot. And has, often at the government’s request. But right now there’s a moratorium on information to us where he’s concerned. Nobody’s talking at all.” He jerked his head toward the office doorway. “I don’t even know where those suits plan to take him.”

“So you’re just going to give up?”

“Rumor has it that you wish Hollins-Winword didn’t exist.”

“Obviously you and the sheriff had a chance for a quick chat.” She wasn’t going to apologize for what she’d said about his company. “Whatever my feelings are about it, the agency does exist. So does some of that good that Sheriff Scalise told me about. Keep them from hanging Jason from a tree for something he didn’t do.”

“Cole’s working on it,” he said mildly. “But there’s nothing we can do right now to keep him here in Weaver.”

Hayley raised her hands. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it for now where Jason is concerned.” Proof of that was plain when they heard the sudden commotion in the outer office and looked back to see Jason, arms and legs in shackles, shuffling between two of the suits. The sheriff was following them, looking grim.

Hayley started to go for the door, but Seth scooped his arm around her waist, holding her back. “This isn’t the time to get in their way,” he murmured against her ear. “Let it go, Doc.”

She winced when the outer door slammed shut after the men left, taking their prisoner with them.

“This is all wrong,” she whispered huskily. Her fingertips pressed against Seth’s hard forearm. “I know you think he’s dangerous, but this is just all wrong.”

He sighed and she felt his lips press against her temple. “I’m sorry, Doc.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “The same question exists that always existed,” he said when they looked his way. “
Somebody
shot Jon and Manny last year. Jason or someone else. But why? Their covers weren’t blown. Jason remembers being there. He couldn’t have known some of the details he provided otherwise. If some of his memories are returning, what’s the likelihood of the rest coming back?”

A wave of tiredness suddenly washed over her. She couldn’t imagine how Seth even managed to stay upright. “Pretty likely,” she said. “But there’s no guarantee. And certainly no timeframe. Even if he remembers exactly the who, when, where and why of what happened in Central America, is there going to be someone who’ll believe him? Someone who’ll be able to act on it? And act on his behalf?”

“Yes,” Tristan said so quickly that some of her tension slid out of her. “So now my next question,” he was looking at Seth, “is whether you’re going to be around to help me figure that out or not?”

Hayley chewed the inside of her cheek, fresh tension accosting her.

“You tell me,” Seth returned after a long moment. “Is there a job for me to come back to?”

“Been a time or two I haven’t followed orders.” Tristan pushed away from the desk. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll leave you two to get on with...whatever.” He walked out of the office, leaving them alone.

Hayley looked up at Seth. Her cheeks were hot.

“Well.” He took her hands in his and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You heard the man. Let’s get on with...whatever.”

“Are you going to keep working for him?”

“I don’t know.” His blue gaze roved over her face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

His admission made her chest hurt.

“Since last year, I’ve thought the man killed his partners. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m wrong.” He went silent for a moment. “Maybe I am wrong about what happened to my old man, too.”

She wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders. Considering that Hollins-Winword’s significant resources hadn’t yet resolved the mystery in Central America, she shouldn’t be surprised that Seth hadn’t been able to use them to shed light on his father’s death so long ago. “You were eighteen and alone when that happened. Losing him had to have been devastating. But it was out of your control. Don’t blame yourself for that. And don’t blame yourself about Jason, either. Everyone suspected him.”

“And he had no means to defend himself.” Seth’s hands rubbed down her arms. “Except for you.”

“I didn’t accomplish anything. Those people still took him out of here in chains.” She pressed her cheek against his. “So I get to live with that.”

“You don’t want me blaming myself, then you’re not gonna get away with blaming yourself. Deal?” He slid his palms down the seat of her jeans.

“Deal,” she whispered.

“Good.” His lips brushed over hers. “Now, let’s get out of here and get on with...whatever.” His mouth covered hers and she pushed all her questions about the future out of her mind.

Right now she had the present.

And the present was him.

* * *

“This is not real bacon, Doc.”

Hayley hid her smile against her coffee mug and raised her eyebrows at Seth. They were sitting together at the kitchen island and even though it had been close to noon by the time they finally rolled out of bed, Seth had said he was in the mood for bacon and eggs.

So that’s what she’d fixed.

“It’s not a figment of your imagination,” she said.

He gave her a dry look and finished off the crispy piece of turkey bacon. “I like
the stuff that actually comes from a pig,” he drawled.

She shrugged. “I didn’t have any stuff from a
pig
in the fridge.”

“We’re gonna have to figure something out about this whole meat thing.” He shook his head dolefully, but the amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Turkey has its place. On the Thanksgiving table.”

She felt a little lurch inside, hoping she wasn’t prematurely reading a future into his words. “You didn’t even notice it was turkey bacon at first,” she countered, picking up his empty plate.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap when she turned to carry the plate to the sink. “I noticed. I was just too hungry to complain about it.”

“You’re always hungry,” she pointed out.

“Well, I am now.” His hand slid inside her robe and covered her breast. “Let’s go back to bed.”

She laughed softly and rubbed her hand over his bare chest. “We spent the morning
in
bed.” And she had Gretchen to thank for successfully rearranging her appointment schedule that morning so they could.

“Yeah, but sleepin’ doesn’t—” He broke off when the doorbell rang. “You don’t want to answer that.”

She didn’t. She wanted to sit there on Seth’s lap while he did wicked things with his hands, and then she wanted to go back upstairs, yank off the clean jeans she’d filched from Casey’s closet for him to wear and do some wicked things to him.

But the doorbell rang again insistently. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” She brushed her mouth against his, shimmying out from his grasp. “Just hold that thought.”

“I’d rather hold you.” He pushed off the barstool and followed her to the front door, looking through the peephole before she could. “Sugarnuts,” he muttered. “Might want to get some clothes on, Doc.”

She couldn’t help but smile over his use of the parentally approved curse from her childhood. “Who is it?”

“Your grandmother.”

Alarm shot through her, and she snatched the lapels of her robe together as if Vivian could see through the door. “How do you know my grandmother?”

“I don’t. But I know she’s the lady living in your house.”

“I can hear you talking through the door.” Vivian’s voice was muffled.

She cringed. “Then you know how surprised I am at your visit,” she responded as she pulled open the door.

Vivian’s bright eyes went from Hayley’s robe to Seth’s bare chest. “Well, well, well. I guess you’ve learned how to stay warm at night.”

Hayley was mortified but Seth actually chuckled. “This is Seth Banyon,” Hayley said dutifully. She didn’t know how to describe him, so she didn’t try. Particularly when Vivian had already drawn her own conclusions. “Seth, my grandmother, Vivian Archer Templeton.”

Vivian held out her hand. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.” Seth turned her hand in his and dropped a kiss on the back of it. “Now I see where Hayley gets her beautiful brown eyes.”

Hayley’s cheeks warmed.

She was fairly certain that Vivian’s did, too, though it was hard to tell beneath the rouge she’d generously rubbed on her cheeks.