Sins That Haunt (9 page)

“You crushed a poor innocent boy's heart. You ruined him for other women.” He couldn't blame his divorce on Shannon, but she wasn't totally absolved from his having trust issues.

“You were seventeen and the hottest guy in Tweedsmuir. You were leaving to go to school anyway. I bet all those sorority girls
loved
you. You might have been hurt, but I'm sure you got over it faster than you're letting on. Remember in the car, that childhood thing you could barely recall?”

“I only said that to get a rise out you,” he countered with a smirk. “And as you so vividly have recalled it not once but twice, I'd say it worked.”

Then, to his surprise, she punched him in the arm. “Of course it worked. I loved you. You were my first everything. To have you brush it away as insignificant was cruel. You destroyed one of the few fond memories of my childhood.” She placed her hand over her heart with a grief-stricken expression. “
You
owe
me
.”

Noah bit back a laugh. Fuck, did he miss her. “Damn, you're good.”

She smiled and overexaggerated puffing out her chest. “Best lawyer in Nevada.”

Then they both laughed and, doing what felt right, he slung an arm over her shoulder. To his amazement, she didn't pull away. All the many years between them seemed to vanish. He hadn't forgotten how great it was to hold her, to press her body against his. How could he? It had been imprinted on his brain. Her scent, the sinuous way she moved against him. He got hard every time he thought about her. Even when he hated her. He wanted what they'd had. Trouble was, she was right; they had been kids. And now they lived in two very different states. He liked his hometown. She wouldn't ever let herself return. But for the next few minutes he didn't care.

“Spin it any way you like, Miss Fancy Lawyer, but you still owe me. And I intend to collect.” And before she could bring around another argument about who owed who, he kissed her. He did more than kiss her. He yanked her onto her feet, pushed one hand into her hair, and pressed her as close as he could. It was great, beyond great. He
hadn't
forgotten one damn thing about her. So maybe it was because they were no longer the fumbling teenagers they'd once been. Maybe because he'd missed her so damn much. Whatever the reason, this was better than any kiss they'd ever shared. And she was kissing him back.

Then, just like that, she pulled away, leaving them both breathless and, admittedly, a little stunned. They went from kissing to staring at each other, she like a deer caught in the headlights, he like he was certain he wanted to keep kissing her.

She held up her hands. “No way. You don't get to do that.” She took several steps back. “You don't get to kiss me like you've done nothing wrong.”

“I haven't done anything wrong,” he argued, still a little wonky from the kiss.

“No, you haven't done anything
illegal
. The Supreme Court has ruled that law enforcement officers can use trickery or deceit in an investigation. Which is what you did,” she said, echoing his thoughts from earlier. “I've gone along with all this because I don't trust you not to go to the press out of sheer spite, but you and your team,” she flicked her wrist at him, “had nothing on me. You knowingly took an innocent person, me, and coerced her into going along with your plans.”

He considered telling her the truth, but in the mood she was in, he wasn't sure she wouldn't back out of helping them. “You were with your father the night he was murdered.”

“Yup, that much is true. I didn't deny being with him or that it was my gun you found, and beyond that fact, you can't prove I fired it. You also know I was at the airport at the time he was killed.”

Shit, she'd figured it out. Now what?

“That's right. I know. Want to know when?”

Should he play stupid or come clean? He could tell himself he was going to be honest for the case's sake, but truth was, he'd hated lying to her in the first place. “When?”

“At the airport.”

And yet she'd gotten on the plane with him?

“Yeah, dumbass, I knew before I got on the plane. When we were going in for coffee. I realized then we were leaving a rental car. I rented a car the night I saw JJ. The return of that vehicle would show when I arrived at the airport. But that's not all. There are cameras in the parking lots and in the airport. All time stamped. So you knew before you came to see me that I didn't kill JJ.”

“Why did you agree to help, then?”

“Like I said, I didn't trust you.”

“Shannon—”

“Don't. I'm glad we had this talk and cleared the air. I truly am sorry I hurt you. But it had to be done. I made the right decision. You fucked me over by dragging me back here. I say we were even yesterday. I'll finish what you forced me to start and then we can say our good-byes.” And with that she headed down the hill and to her car.

He wanted to go after her. But what would be the point? She hadn't said she'd stop helping, so he still had what he'd wanted. Didn't he?

* * *

Shannon's mood driving back to town would scare most of the pimps Maggie liked to go up against when she got it in her head to save an underage prostitute.

Why had she let him kiss her? It had taken her so long to get him out of her mind and now she'd gone and mucked it up. Things would have been fine if he'd kept his hands to himself, but the moment he'd slung an arm over her shoulder—like time hadn't interrupted their young love affair—it was game over. She'd recalled in vivid detail the first time he'd done that. They'd gone for ice cream to celebrate her first good grade in math, a subject she'd hated and he'd been tutoring her in. It had meant nothing, less than nothing; simply a congratulatory gesture after an exhausting week of studying. Or so she'd told herself.

Guys like Noah Monroe dated the mayor's kid, little Miss What's Her Face, Suzie I'm So Perfect. Or the preacher's daughter. Although her father would've approved, Maggie'd had no interest in Noah, which had amazed Shannon. All the other princesses in town had eyes for him and Noah for them. Not that she'd begrudged any of them. Why shouldn't their textbook lives include a perfect romance? So when he'd first put his arm around her shoulders, Shannon had known it meant nothing, even though her heart had wished otherwise. What had shocked the hell out of her was that she'd liked it. Just like now. And for one second, maybe two, she'd been sixteen again.

Well, enough of that bull. She wasn't sixteen and he sure as hell wasn't the great guy who'd promised to protect her, who'd said they'd find a way to make sure JJ left her alone. She'd done that all on her own. And whoever put a bullet in his crotch had licked the stamp and mailed that letter to a place JJ would never return to sender.

Shannon would ignore whatever feelings Noah had rekindled. They weren't real. They were childhood dreams of a life she wished she had.

* * *

Shannon parked in front of the boardinghouse instead of around back like yesterday. They'd planned on returning here after tonight's meeting. She was going to nix those plans. She'd repack now and take her suitcase with her and insist Noah take her to a hotel in Boston. She was done with the Keyeses so there'd be no need to return to Tweedsmuir. She was halfway up the porch when she heard her name.

“Shannon?” repeated a voice she prayed wasn't who she thought it was.

Drawing a slow, silent breath, she turned. “Mrs. Polanski?” she said, trying her damnedest to sound surprised.

“Oh, it is you,” she said, opening her arms for a hug. “When you come home?”

Home.
There went that word again. “Yesterday.”

Shannon never knew her grandparents. Thanks to drugs and bad boyfriends, her mom's had disowned her long before Shannon had been born, and JJ's had died when she was too little to remember them. But there, standing on the sidewalk, was the closest person to it. Heart jammed tight in her throat, she walked down the path, bent down, and put her arms around the woman she'd once considered family. Then she bit the inside of her mouth to stop from crying. She had no right to hug her.

“I so glad you safe,” Mrs. P said. “Why you no write? You hurt my feelings.”

Inhaling the familiar scent of orange blossoms and cinnamon, Shannon released the old woman. How did she explain she couldn't write without telling her why she'd left? She'd not only been too ashamed but would've had to tell her why she didn't want JJ to find her. And that she couldn't do. So what did she tell her now?

“It's okay,” she continued in a conspiratorial whisper. “Allison tell me you out of harm's way.”

“Maggie's mom?” What exactly had she told her?

Mrs. P nodded. “When you disappear I go see her. I lost my Frederick and then I lost you. Why you not tell me about your father? You could come and live with Freddy and me.”

Shannon's lower lip trembled at the mention of Mr. Polanski. At the suggestion that she could've moved in with them, thirteen years of guilt poured out of her. She told herself not to cry. This woman, who'd baked her birthday cakes when no one else thought to, would think her crazy, but she couldn't help herself. She hugged Mrs. P again, embarrassed by her tears, overwhelmed by her shame.

“I happy to see you too. You busy now? Can you come to dinner? There is so much I want to ask. See, my English better,” she said, making sure to pronounce the words slower.

Shannon reluctantly let the woman go. “Better than my Polish.” She still couldn't string two words together to make a sentence. “I can't,” she said, for once grateful for what Noah was making her do. “I have a dinner date.” It was the truth.

Mrs. P beamed. “With Noah Monroe?”

It took a few seconds for it to register that she'd gotten it right. “Yes; how did you know?”

Mrs. P kept smiling, reaching out to take Shannon's hands into hers. “First him and now you. Easy peasy.”

“First him?” she asked, confused as hell.

“Yes. He bought reverend's house. And now you. Lovebirds find each other,” she said, a hand over her heart. “Make me very happy.”

Noah had bought Maggie's old house? Why should that surprise her? Of course he would do something like that. He loved this town. “It's not what you think.”

“No,” she regarded her skeptically, “you come here for another reason? I know you did not like town.”

What could it hurt? Shannon said nothing, letting her believe what she wanted to believe, especially if it made her smile that way.

“I wish you keep in touch. I would not tell that man where to find you.”

She could never tell her that she couldn't look her in the face again. That if she heard her voice, she'd break down and cry . . . and never stop. “I don't know exactly what Mrs. Hopewell told you, but I couldn't chance anyone knowing where I was. She only knew because of Maggie, and I needed to make sure my mom was taken care of.”

“I wish I know. Frederick make him go away. We would have helped.”

Hearing Mr. Polanski's name again, Shannon wanted to run. She was the reason Mrs. P didn't have her Frederick. That man had been as strong as an ox, had even trained for the Polish Olympic decathlon team. He should have lived forever.

“My father wasn't the type of man you messed with. But that's in the past,” she added, just in case Mrs. P kept probing for answers. “Enough about that. How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you. I do my kitchen last summer. You come by and see it.”

Aw, she'd loved that kitchen, with its sixties avocado cupboards and old pine floors. It was homey and smelled like the thousands of cakes Mrs. P liked to bake. “If I have time. I'm not here long.” It wasn't a lie, but she didn't want to tell her she was planning to leave tonight. She'd already been chastised once for what she'd done in the past; she couldn't allow Mrs. P to know she planned to do it again.

“Oh, please make time. You know Agie had baby last year. A boy, Frederick, after her father. Come, I show you pictures.”

That was another kid who would never know his grandfather. Her throat tightened and she had to swallow hard to be able to speak. “Okay,” she said, resigning herself to the fact that she'd have to spend another night in Tweedsmuir. “Tomorrow. I have to go get ready now.”

“Yes, go, go. Look pretty for Noah. I see you tomorrow?” she asked, making sure Shannon would show up.

“Tomorrow.” She'd have to find out exactly what time her flight left. “I'm not sure what time, though.”

“As long as I see you.”

Shannon bent down and kissed Mrs. P's pillow-soft cheek. She gave her one last hug, then went right inside, thankful when she didn't bump into anyone. She'd give herself five minutes and then she'd shower and compose herself for dinner with Noah and the people who were no better, if not worse, than JJ. She sat on the small window seat in her room, curled her knees up to her chin, and cried.

N
oah waited patiently for Shannon. He'd texted her twenty minutes earlier and given her his ETA. They'd pick Damon up on the way. She'd asked that he wait for her in the car, so here he sat. He'd told her to dress business casual, wanting to give the cartel the impression that she was a professional, just as she'd pitched herself over the phone. They didn't want them to think JJ's kid was a loser like her father. If she told them she had what they wanted, they needed to take her seriously and at her word. Being a lawyer, Shannon would know how to achieve that impression with the right clothes.

When she finally came out of the boardinghouse, he'd expected to see her in the black slacks and short matching jacking that had been packed for her, which she was indeed wearing. What he hadn't expected was the low-cut, cream-colored silk tank she'd paired it with. He'd known she had beautiful breasts, but he was too distracted by the sight of them to realize he hadn't gotten out of the car to open the door for her until she slid into the seat next to him. To top it off she'd painted her lips a scarlet red. Against her pale complexion it was sexy as hell.

“So,” she said, “Am I Starsky or Hutch?” She tucked a blond lock of hair behind her ear.

“Are those real?” he asked, meaning the megawatt diamonds he spotted on her ears.

Shannon's eyebrows shot up. “I'm sorry?”

“The diamonds; are they real?”

“I don't wear knockoff or imitation anything. I work too hard for that. I went to court yesterday and had these tucked away in my purse. The courtroom is no place for anything that screams you make too much money when you're suing someone.”

She had sense enough for that, and yet she showed up looking like . . . He started the car while he considered whether to drive off or make her go upstairs to change. He changed the radio station to country, knowing Shannon preferred it, and made himself look at his reaction rationally. Was he upset because her appearance could affect the meeting? Or something else? And if it was something else, he needed to get over it. “Would you mind, please, before we leave, because maybe I'm missing something here. I mean, I probably am missing something. So I don't come across as . . . I don't know. I just don't—”

“Out with it,” she said, clearly having lost her patience with his rambling.

He told himself not to look, which he ignored and did anyway. “That top. It's a little revealing, don't you think? I can see the lace camisole you have beneath it.”

She glanced down at herself and reacted like she hadn't noticed. “It's not a camisole. It's my bra. And what the hell do you care?”

Damn it. He didn't want her to think he'd mentioned it because he was behaving possessively. He wasn't. At least he didn't think he was. Who was he to say he'd have said anything if she were another woman going with him to meet a drug cartel? But this was his case and he had every right to consider their reaction to her . . . breasts. “Look, this isn't some macho thing. If you don't wear bling to court, why wear something sexy now?”

“Sexy? This isn't sexy,” she said.

“A guy would have to be dead not to be distracted by it, and even then he might jump out of his grave for a better look.”

“That's a tad extreme.” She buttoned the jacket. It effectively draped the silk top to cover most of her breasts. If she'd been a smaller woman, you wouldn't have seen anything. “Better?” She motioned to the front of the jacket.

“Yes,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You want me to use really big words so they won't think I'm some dumb blonde?”

“I
want
you to leave your sarcasm here. We'll try to control the conversation as much as possible.” He didn't want Shannon in any danger. “Damon is a really good bullshitter. He has this knack for—” His mind went blank.

It was an old trick, and yet she'd completely caught him off guard when she'd undone the button on her jacket while she remained focused on what he was and now wasn't saying.

“He has this knack . . . ?” she repeated.

“Nice,” he said, not impressed that her stunt had worked on him. He put the car in drive. “But these guys aren't idiots.”

He heard the click of her seat belt. “Are you?”

“You and I have a history. Of course
I'm
going to look.”

“You said a guy would have to be dead, remember?”

“I'm just saying it might not have the effect you want. These guys are serious players.”

“What I
want
is to have a few seconds to my advantage in case I need it. That's it.”

“Have you tried that before?” Was she going around Vegas flashing her cleavage to take advantage of poor schmucks?

“Why are you pissed?”

“I'm not pissed. Why would I be pissed? I'm not pissed.”

“Okay, but if you grip that steering wheel any tighter your hands are going to go numb.”

He flexed his fingers, then adjusted his grip. “I'm not pissed,” he repeated.

“Yes, that's what you said. So, why the Capital Grille?”

“It's a Sunday night. It should be quiet, but we chose high-end to ensure a few waiters will cater to our table.”

“Your people?”

“Local cops. They'll be wired as will Damon and any empty table in the restaurant, just in case they arrive first. We don't want them to suspect a setup.”

“But you chose the restaurant. Won't that be suspicious?”

“No; JJ chose. The moron had expensive tastes. We're out-of-towners who aren't supposed to know Boston. He inferred the restaurant would impress us. These people are also new to Boston so they allowed him to decide on an appropriate location.”

“So my being from Vegas fit nicely into your setup.”

“We couldn't have planned it better ourselves.”

“Yay for me,” she said, blowing out a breath. “Any news on who killed JJ?”

“No. The department is letting the locals try to figure it out. We're there to assist if needed.”

“And if it turns out the people we're meeting killed him.”

“Are you worried?”

“Can you say for certain they didn't?”

He thought about it; it wasn't likely, nor was it a certainty. “No.”

“Then I'd have to be an idiot not to be worried.”

“Shannon, I . . . we won't let anything happen to you.”

“Let's hope not. Then you'd really owe me.”

He smiled. “This is like the time you and Maggie made me buy fries because I was ten minutes late picking you up from the quarry.”

“We were wet and it was cold. You froze our butts off.”

“I was doing you a favor. You woke me up out of bed. What kind of dummies swim with their clothes on at midnight?”

“It was a dare. Unplanned.”

“And stupid.”

“Yeah, that's Maggie. Do first, think later.”

“You two still close?” He'd envied their relationship, their loyalty to each other.

“Like two peas. But now I have to share her.”

“You okay with that?” He turned down the radio so they could talk.

“Absolutely. He's good to her, and no one deserves to be happy more than Maggie.”

What did Shannon think about Maggie's new husband? “How well do you know Christian Beck?”

“Enough that no pimp will get within ten feet of her, and if they do, they'll regret it. I did my homework on the guy before things got too serious between them.”

He doubted she'd have found anything of real significance on Beck that his boss, Ryan Sheppard, hadn't leaked to the media. His units were hired to search and recover at any cost. The public was only allowed to see them as any other high-end private investigation firm. “And what did you discover?”

“That he was shady.”

“How so?” he asked, curious as to what she found or thought she'd found.

“I found an article linking ICU with a Colombian kidnapping, some heiress snatched from her daddy's rum plantation. It was suggested, although never proven, that the family had a disagreement with some militant group. The girl was recovered and delivered to American soil. The other woman with her, her maid, was killed during the rescue.”

“And?” He recalled that case. The other woman was an undercover federal agent who hadn't been killed but reassigned to protect her identity. For nearly two years she'd been working from the inside. When ICU got the girl out they didn't want it known that her maid had been assigned to watch and log Daddy's association with Colombian drug lords. It would have tipped off too many people to the ongoing investigation.

“And nothing. He and Maggie worked it out. She was happy with whatever explanation he gave her about his job, and that was good enough for me. She's a good judge of character. It took me a little while to warm up to him, but as he helped save our ass, I had to forgive the way he'd treated Maggie when he first met her. In the end it all worked out.”

He'd known about the serial killer stalking Maggie and her dancers. When he'd read the file and realized it was his Shannon the killer had captured to lure Maggie . . . well, let's just say it was a good thing the fucker was already dead. Realistically, it wasn't like he could have done anything, but it made him feel better. “You want to tell me about it?”

“I just did. They're one big happy couple.”

“No, I mean being held as bait. It must have been traumatic.”

“Scary as shit actually, but it's over and done with. Life goes on,” she said, turning her head to look out the window.

“Shannon, this is me you're talking to. I know when you don't want to talk about something.”

“Then drop it.”

“Dropping it won't make it better.”

“Neither will talking about it,” she said, swiveling her neck to stare him down. “It sucked, all right? He hit me and tied me to a chair, where I had to pray like hell Maggie wasn't stupid enough to meet his demands. Which of course she was. Then I had to watch the wheels in her head turn as she tried to figure out how she was going to get us away from that psycho. And I couldn't say anything because I knew he'd hit me again and she'd do something even dumber. Which she did,
again
. She lured him into her bedroom. I didn't know if she was ever going to come out again. All because I'd allowed that psychopath into the house. If Christian hadn't shown up, I don't know if Maggie could've shot Wright a second time. Maybe she would have, maybe she wouldn't have. Who knows? It doesn't matter. Christian finished the job. End of story. Now can we drop it?”

Obviously she had unresolved issues with the event, and obviously she wasn't ready to talk about it—yet. He'd learned from experience and training that sooner or later stuff like that had to be resolved or bad shit was going to happen. Bad shit like giving in to your scumbag father's demands. She'd told Noah she'd given in because she hadn't been thinking clearly. Was that what she'd meant? Could JJ have caught her when she'd been feeling vulnerable? Had he known that, or did the dumb fuck get lucky? Noah wanted to ask, but now wasn't the time. He needed her head here, in this game, not focused on what had happened earlier that year. So he did as asked and dropped it.

“How about we go over tonight again?”

“Noah, I think you have me confused with a sixteen-year-old smart-ass. I'm not that kid anymore. I've taken on major corporations and won. So can you stop treating me like I'm incompetent and won't be able to remember what I'm supposed to say or do?” she said with a finality that proved he'd touched a nerve by bringing up her hostage ordeal.

“Someone's testy.”

“Someone is going to knock your head off if you don't start respecting that
someone
for the responsible, successful, intelligent woman she's become. Why don't we just enjoy the scenery until we pick up your friend?”

“You were always bright, Shannon, and I knew you would be successful at anything you put your mind to.”

“Just not responsible?”

“Are you looking for a fight?”

“I'm looking for respect.”

“I respect you.” But the moment he said it, he knew he was going to get slammed.

“You handcuffed me,
in my office
, and threatened my livelihood.”

“When you put it that way—”

“There's no other way to put, and if you want me to succeed tonight, I suggest you shut up. Now.”

He wanted to argue but needed her focused. And regardless of the fact that he was doing his job, he
had
disrespected her. He couldn't say with absolute surety that he hadn't done what he'd done because of hurt feelings. He should have tried harder to talk to her. Had he not bothered because he was pressed for time, or had he wanted to strike out? If the latter was true, he was an ass.

“About tonight,” he said. “You could have said no. I know deep inside there's a part of you that wants to make amends. You're a good person, and I used that to my advantage. For that I'm sorry. “

Shannon said nothing, grateful at last for the silence. She'd never admit it, not even to Maggie, but William Wright had done a number on her head. He'd not only transformed her back into the vulnerable kid she'd once been, the one with little control over her life, but when Maggie had come to her rescue, every ounce of guilt that had plagued her about Mr. Polanski had come rushing back. And then, because she'd allowed that psycho to con her—her, of all people—Maggie's life had been threatened.