Suspended (2 page)

As if reading her mind, Mr. Murray turned his gaze to her. His
voice slid back into the professional and distant lawyer mode. “Miss Proctor,
you also have one of Mr. Justice’s remaining properties.”

“No.” Kendall’s lungs emptied, and a thick buzz filled her
head. All her work. Her home—everything she’d done to keep her mother safe and
taken care of. “No, you can’t.”

Mr. Murray lifted his hand. “No, you don’t have to sell the
Heron.”

She pressed her forehead to the cool wood. Relief opened the
buckles that had snapped around her chest. She dragged in a breath.

“As Lawrence’s sole blood relative, you will share the
property with Shane Justice, his son.”

Her head snapped up, and Shane came to a stop behind her
chair. Blood relative? Wouldn’t his son be a blood relative?

He swung her chair out. Kendall gripped the arms as it
tilted, then slammed her down to face him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Hazel eyes bore into her. The gold
seemed to glow with all the seething anger that was boiling inside him.

Her skin buzzed as if energy were roiling out of him in its
purest form. “I’m Lawrence Justice’s daughter,” she whispered.

He hovered over her. “He doesn’t have a kid. He only has
me.”

“You’re my brother?” She recoiled to the back of the chair.
No. No, he couldn’t be her half brother.

He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “No. I’m Larry’s
stepson, but he raised me as his.”

Her father had left her but stayed for this man? She hadn’t
thought she could feel any more pain when it came to Lawrence Justice, but
she’d been wrong. God, so wrong.

Shane looked up at Mr. Murray. “She has no hold on anything
of Dad’s. I didn’t even know about her.”

“That’s because he left us when I was five.” She pushed
Shane out of her space and stood. He was too close, too big, too everything.
She focused on Mr. Murray, his face emotionless, his eyes steady. “Lawrence
bought that house for my mother.”

“Yes, he did. But Lily Proctor never signed the deed over
into her name.”

Kendall dug her fingertips into her brow. “No,” she
whispered. It would be just like her mother to pull a stunt like that. She’d
loved Lawrence and having his name on something would be the ultimate way to
keep him tethered to her. Crap. Crap. Crap. As with everything that had
anything to do with her father, Kendall would be paying for it.

“It would be too much to hope for that he left us the
Heron.”

“No, not too much to hope for,” Mr. Murray said kindly.

She fell back into her chair. “Thank God.”

“But it’s a shared property with Shane.”

“What?” Both of them shouted and stared at the lawyer.

“He can’t.” The Heron had been the one constant in her life.
“I’ve run the bed-and-breakfast since I was sixteen. That’s my life!”

“Larry and I did everything we could to make sure the two of
you would be taken care of. This is all he could do for you, Shane.”

And as usual, all Lawrence did was take from her. She
crossed her arms over her churning gut. She wanted to curl into a ball. Even
twenty-two years later her father managed to take everything away from her.

Again.

SHANE JUSTICE BACKED into the bookcases that lined his
father’s meeting room. Justice Construction never had an official home base.
His dad liked the informality of his house with a touch of the grandeur to show
off how well they’d been doing. Except it was all smoke and mirrors.

Gerry sat heavily. The fight had drained out of him. Gerry had
followed his father into every insane scheme and now had nothing to show for
it. Shane had known they were in a little bit of trouble, but his father
would’ve turned things around. He always did.

It was the way of things for Larry Justice. Gerry had believed
in him, and Larry had never let him down. Until now. Shane listened with half
an ear as Jonas listed all the properties that were sold and the debt that
would be absorbed. The only thing left was the lakeside B and B in Bradley, New
York. And a woman he’d never heard of. He’d have happily killed to be his
father’s flesh-and-blood son, but Larry had never made him feel less. And here
she was staring back at him with rum-colored eyes and his father’s angel-white
hair. As frustrating as Larry Justice could be, one thing was always apparent.
Family was his focus.

The fact that he had a daughter he’d never spoken of was
insane.

Some of what Jonas was saying finally sank in, dragging him
from the mystery woman sitting at the table.

If the house was double mortgaged, there was no way to cover
the expenses. He looked at his lawyer. Through every contract, Jonas had been
there to keep his father on the straight and narrow. Larry with a wild idea was
a dangerous thing. He could convince anyone to follow him.

All except Jonas.

He was the only source of reason in their life.

Kendall Proctor’s wide, shattered eyes flamed up the anger
brewing inside him again. More secrets, and more lies from his father.

When Gerry stumbled out the door, Shane whispered, “Fuck,”
and followed. “Gerry, wait.”

Gerry got as far as the front door before he stopped, his
hand on the doorknob. “Don’t, kid.”

Shane shrugged out of the suit jacket and tossed it on the
bench beside the door. “Dad fucked up. But you know he always tried to fix things.”

“He didn’t talk to me about this at all, Shane. Not one
fucking word.”

Shane closed his eyes. “He didn’t talk to either one of us.”

“I’m fifty-eight fucking years old, kid. It’s too late for
me to start over.”

“Come back inside. There’s got to be something more to this
will thing.”

Gerry shook his head. “I need air and a smoke. I’ll be in
touch.” The door slammed behind him.

“God dammit, Dad. What the fuck were you thinking?” He
yanked at the noose around his neck. Formality was fucked at this point. He
rolled up his sleeves. None of this made sense. He headed back into the room.
“Jonas, I need more of an explanation. Obviously Dad talked to you.”

Jonas’s friendly eyes flicked into lawyer mode. No emotion,
not even a clue to the knowledge he held. “Larry didn’t want you to know the
specifics, Shane.”

Shane pointed at Kendall. “Evidently. A fucking daughter?”

“Do not point at me like I’m a dog, Mr. Justice.”

He looked down at her. All hints of the docile woman who had
been shaking beside him during the will reading were gone. “You don’t get to
talk yet.”

She stood. “Okay, that’s enough. I’ve been sitting here
listening to you people talk about taking my home—the only thing that man ever
gave me, mind you—like you have any right to it. Where the hell were any of you
for the last twenty-two years?”

Shane stalked forward until they were millimeters apart.
“Just because my father paid your mother off with a house doesn’t mean you
have—”

The
crack
of the
slap across his cheek echoed through the room.

Her eyes filled with tears as she covered her mouth with her
hand.

His cheek burned, and his anger struggled around in his
chest like a wild animal. It would be so easy to take every ounce of pain out
on her. She was nothing to him. “You get one freebie, Miss Proctor.”

She flung her shoulders back. “That’s my mother you’re
talking about. She loved your useless excuse for a father. He’s the one who
left us.”

Lock it down
. He
stared at her. She was a buck fifteen with her clothes on and didn’t even reach
his chin, but she might as well have boxing gloves and a title belt around her
waist. Men twice his size shrank from him in a fight, and this little one
wanted to take him on? “There must have been good reason.”

She stumbled back a step, but her dark eyes never lost their
fierce glare.

That one little step sliced at him.

Dammit.

He took a step back of his own and focused on Jonas’s
surprised face. Shame crawled up his shoulders and settled like a blanket, stamping
out most of his rage. This wasn’t her fault, and his mother would have had his
hide if she’d ever heard him speak to a woman like this.

“I want to read the will myself.”

Jonas pushed the smaller stack of papers his way. Instinct
made him shake his head. “No, I want the full document, not the layman’s-terms
version.”

“You might be good with contracts on the surface, Shane, but
this is all courthouse jargon.”

Every job they’d ever had that had gone hinky gave him the
same tingle in his palms. “I don’t care.”

He could see the indecision in Jonas’s face and knew he’d
made the right call. There was something in the papers, even a small thing that
would help make sense of this ridiculous will. Jonas laid his hand on top of
the stack, then finally let it go.

“I want to read it as well.”

He turned to Kendall. “This is none of your concern.”

“Considering you now own fifty percent of my house, it sure
the hell is my concern.” Spite and anger coated every word.

Jonas gathered his briefcase and jacket. “I’ll leave you to
it. Call me if you need anything explained.”

Shane had trusted Jonas in every way but this. If his father
asked Jonas to do something, he’d do it. No matter how close Shane and Jonas
had become, he knew the man’s loyalty was with Larry. Even in death.

He followed Jonas out, stopping him at the door when they
were alone. “Why didn’t he want me to know?”

“You know your father. There was always a reason for the
things he did.”

Shane stared down at his too-new shoes as they blurred
before he put the grief aside, letting anger back out. At least anger got
things done. “He should have trusted me.”

“Please don’t press this issue, Shane. Let it go.”

“I can’t.”

“What he did was for the good of his employees and to make
sure you could have your freedom someday.”

Shane’s shoulders stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“Lawrence knew about the furniture business. He knew your
heart wasn’t in the construction business.”

He stepped back, folding his arms, digging his thumbs into
his chest to keep from shaking Jonas. No one knew about his workshop. The
pieces he sold were mostly out of state, out of his father’s realm of
influence. They were just his, built and sold under his mother’s last
name—without the charm and easy salesmanship of Lawrence Justice. He’d wanted—no,
needed—to do something for himself. Not because he was a Justice of California.

“This is a way to start over. Away from all this. Lawrence’s
people will be all right. I promise.”

Shane frowned. “What does that mean?”

Jonas shook his head. “Just think about it.”

Shane closed the door after him. He needed a drink, needed a
way to extinguish a little of the insanity that crawled under his skin.
Everything he’d ever known was being taken from him. He wandered the lower
level and found himself in his father’s study. The heavy scent of leather and
the tang of lemon were so familiar they were as effective as a blow. He grabbed
the decanter of whiskey off the bar and fled the room.

He found her in the conference room. The heavy mass of curls
that hung over the back of the chair surprised him. Her head was resting on her
hand as she flipped through the papers. She seemed at ease, until he noticed
the fingers gripping her hair. His palm tingled in reaction.

A fondness for long hair could be ignored. Plenty of women had
long hair, but the pale, almost white strands shot with gold lured him closer.
Like moonlight and sunshine rippling together. He banged the decanter down on
the table. The fanciful thoughts died with the clatter.

She jerked to a sitting position, steel rebar replacing her
spine. She didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she pushed a half dozen pages down
the table. “When Mr. Murray said this was full of legal jargon, he wasn’t
kidding. It’s like reading Shakespeare with a side of Latin for footnotes.”

He bit back a biting comment and sat down next to her. None
of this was her fault, and he had to control himself. The only way they could
make it through this mess was to cooperate with each other. “We’ll have to do
the best we can.”

“Yeah, well, I forgot my legalese decoder ring.” She didn’t
meet his gaze, keeping her eyes on a spot near his hands.

“Why do you care?” He fisted his fingers. “I mean, I know
why I do.”

Her attention finally latched on to his face. The fierce
light was back in her eyes. “I don’t want you near me or mine, Mr. Justice.”
The shaky woman from earlier was gone as if she’d never been.

“Then it’s in your best interest to find what I need to
know, Miss Proctor. Because if this will is right, you and I will be living out
of each other’s pockets until we come to a decision on what to do with our
property.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line before
relaxing. Her mouth was a touch too wide, her lips soft and distractingly full.
It was a far too sinful mouth to belong to such a tiny, fine-featured woman.
Add in the hair, and she could have climbed out of a mythology textbook. The
sirens had nothing on her power. The tip of her tongue flicked out to wet her
lips as if she knew where his thoughts had gone.

He turned away, focusing on the papers in front of him.
“Until we figure out what’s going to happen, you’ll be my guest.”

“No, I have a flight to catch in three hours.”

“Then change it.”

“They’re nonrefundable tickets,” she said between clenched
teeth.

“Then we have a problem.”

“No”—she stood—“you have a problem.”

He clamped his fingers around her wrist. She could walk out
the door, and he would follow her—eventually. He’d have to find the house they
now co-owned and figure out what to do with it. But he needed to settle the
will first. And he didn’t trust her not to do something stupid back in Fuckbum,
New York, that would screw him over.