The Right Kind of Trouble (31 page)

A faint noise from behind her set her heart to racing, and she spun around, her hand pressed to her chest.

When she saw Hannah standing in the door to the room she shared with Brannon, Moira practically collapsed against the wall in relief. “Damn it, it's you.”

“I'm sorry.” Hannah gave her a sheepish smile. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“It's okay.” Moira said. “Jumpy.”

“At this point, if you weren't jumpy, I'd been questioning your mental status.” Moving deeper into the room, Hannah rubbed at her swollen belly. “I'm getting the munchies all the time these days. Can't wait for this baby to come.”

Moira calculated the time and managed a smile—a real one. “It's just a couple of months now.” She grimaced as she realized how close the holidays were—Hannah was due in late February and there was a wedding to squeeze in between Christmas and Hannah's due date. Both the brides-to-be had agreed they didn't want a Christmas wedding, and Branon was adamant that he marry Hannah
before
the baby came, while Neve demanded she have time to plan a
real
wedding. So … January.

“Want to join me for a snack?” Hannah asked hopefully.

Although she wasn't hungry, Moira appreciated the distraction and went to join Hannah in the kitchen area. When Brannon had taken over this building, he'd all but demolished the top level and had the entire loft done to his specifications. The top floor was his “in town” home. Now, instead of small, dusty rooms, he had a wide, open area that served as both living room and kitchen and dining area, with several bedrooms as well as the master. Moira was using one of the guest bedrooms. In addition, there was a small gym, a laundry, and two bathrooms.

Brannon didn't do small scale.

Hannah rubbed at her belly and groaned as she stared into the kitchen. “This baby wants to be a linebacker, I swear.”

“Just a few more months,” Moira said again, distracted by the pieces of the puzzle still running through her mind.

Instead of feeling reassured, Hannah snorted. “Don't remind me. I'm going to be the size of a houseboat by the time she gets here. She's already using my bladder as a trampoline.”

Moira would've thought it would be impossible to laugh but Hannah startled one out of her. “What an image. So I guess she's moving around a lot.”

“Yeah.” A soft smile curled Hannah's lips despite her wry tone. “It's tickling Brannon to pieces, but he's not the one who has a ping-pong game going on his belly.” Hannah opened the refrigerator and stared inside but then closed it, her face dark. “I want pizza. Why don't we have an all-night pizza place here?”

Moira pursed her lips. “The demographic in Treasure doesn't really call for that. I think it's just pregnant women.”

“The way I'm going, I can keep an entire chain afloat for years.” Hannah rubbed a hand over her belly as she opened the freezer. She pulled out a box of individual frozen pizzas and gave them a look of distaste.

“Grumble too much, you're gonna wake Brannon up.” Moira glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see her brother there, pulling on his shirt and shoes to go on a pizza hunt. “He'll go dig up some pizza from somewhere.”

“Normally that idea would guilt me into stopping.” Hannah shrugged as she ripped the box open. “But he's not going to go anywhere with you here, and I'm not leaving the house. He'll actually just heat up the pizza here or just help me make some. I'll head it off and eat this stuff.”

Moira pursed her lips as she tried to picture Brannon dragging his lazy ass out of bed to make pizza in the middle of the night. Go
buy
it, sure—that required little brainpower. But making it?

“You hungry?” Hannah asked, interrupting her mental reverie. As she tore open one of the pizzas, she gave Moira a hopeful look. “Please don't make me eat this alone.”

Moira wasn't really hungry, but she smiled at Hannah. She hadn't had dinner and she suspected she wouldn't want to eat much in the morning either. “I can eat.”

“Good,” Hannah said, sighing happily. “I hate to be a glutton alone.”

A few minutes later with microwave pizza, water for Hannah and wine that cost three hundred dollars a bottle for Moira, they sat down at the table. Hannah took one bite, chewed, and swallowed before looking over at Moira. “So how do you plan on making up with Gideon?”

“You know, Hannah?” Moira had lifted her glass to her lips, but now she lowered it, focusing on the glossy wood surface of the table. The wine warmed her belly and she had a feeling it was going to go straight to her head. Save for those few fries she'd stolen—and then puked up—she hadn't had anything since breakfast the day before. Although it hadn't quite been twenty-four hours, it felt like an entire lifetime ago. “This is one of the things I love about you. Some people would hesitate to ask such a personal question, but you just jump in, feetfirst.”

“Not enough time in life to beat around the bush.” Hannah took another bite of pizza. “And you didn't answer.”

“That is because I was trying to dodge it.” Moira grabbed a bit of uneaten crust and tossed it at Hannah. To her surprise, Hannah swayed to the side and caught the small piece in her mouth, right out of midair. Yet again, she startled a laugh out of Moira.

“I know you are trying to dodge me.” Hannah shrugged. “But I'm not that easy to dodge. After all, I'm hooked up with Brannon, and he is master of the dodge.”

“Point taken.” Brooding, she picked up her wine and took a healthy swallow. Before she answered, she forced herself to take a bite of the pizza, although it was bland and tasteless, the dough more like tomato smeared cardboard. “I don't know what I'm gonna do. I messed up. And after how often I have messed up with him? I'm almost afraid to even look at him, Hannah.”

The sensation in her belly got worse, and she pushed the pizza away. “I knew I was overreacting. I knew I was being stupid. But I couldn't stop myself. Now…” She closed her eyes, dropping her face into her hands. Heels to the sockets of her eyes, she said, “Now I've got to talk to him and find a way to fix this.”

“Is that why you're up? Waiting for him to walk by on his way home?”

Moira frowned. “No. I just … hell, I can't sleep. All of this is whirling around in my head. And some of the things he was saying…” But her eyes strayed to the window once more. Had she been looking for him? She didn't know.

“Give yourself some time.” Hannah reached over, covering Moira's hand with hers. “Try to rest and wait until tomorrow. You're exhausted and you're hurting. Get some rest and talk to him tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She feigned a smile and got up, carrying the dishes over to the sink as Hannah finished up the last bit of her pizza.

“I still can't sleep.” Hannah yawned and looked over toward the TV. “Want to find something stupid to watch?”

“Wow. What an invitation.”

“Aw, c'mon. Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep at home, Mom and I would watch TV. The stupider the better.” Hannah grinned at her. “You'd be surprised at how much easier it can be to sleep with something really brainless on the tube if you've got a friend there. Company can make all the difference.”

A few minutes later, they curled up on the couch, each with a blanket and pillow scavenged from the guest bedrooms. The stupid movie of choice was a zombie flick that had them laughing and cringing within ten minutes.

They were asleep within thirty.

*   *   *

Like a few hundred people in town, he'd had a front-row seat, or close enough, to the spectacle that had happened last night.

Actually,
two
spectacles had happened.

That incompetent cop had lost his temper with Moira McKay, and she'd left practically in tears.

Poor Moira.

If she had gone back to McKay's Ferry …

He'd had hopes.

She
had
wanted to leave. Half the town had seen that much—had heard it, too.

He'd been watching, waiting, listening …

But in the end, she'd listened to her brother, and he had to assume she'd gone with that moron back to the apartment he had in town.

Brannon lived close to Neve.

For a few moments, he'd entertained the idea of another fire, one severe enough to set a few buildings ablaze. But he feared he'd be pushing his luck. He couldn't risk Moira dying, after all. He needed information from her and he didn't really see any reason either her or Neve had to die unless they had to.

Now, Brannon … well, that bastard, he did want him to die. If he had a way to kill two people—Brannon and Gideon—he'd try to make that happen, but in the end, if they
suffered,
that would suffice. Mostly because they were arrogant pieces of shite and he detested Gideon for that alone.

But the McKays—his war was with the McKays in particular, so his personal vendettas would have to come later, and that meant focusing on the information he needed from Moira, and making sure he kept the promise he'd made to his father.

Making them pay.

If one of them died, it would hurt them, yes, and he liked the idea of that. But if they
all
died, what was the point?

Death was easy.

Death ended everything.

He didn't want them
dead
 … he wanted them
miserable
.

It wasn't just that he
hated
the McKays. He hated everything they all stood for. Hated everything they were and everything they'd built and the hypocrites they were. They acted like such martyrs. But they were just greedy liars like anybody else.

Thieves and fools, all of them. They'd stolen everything from his family.

Picking up his phone, he checked the time and then surveyed the room. He'd spent the past few hours finalizing everything. He hadn't bought this place solely to fuck with Moira. That had been fun, true. But it should have belonged to him—to the Whitehalls all along. He had to give that whore Tilly credit. If she hadn't lied and claimed this house as hers through marriage to George, then it would have been lost and he wouldn't have had a chance to reclaim it.

And he wouldn't have a chance to do this now.

Stroking a hand down the carved back of the chair, he turned and looked around. Everything else was done.

All he had to do now was bring Moira here … bring her home.

*   *   *

Company did help. Moira didn't remember falling asleep.

She came awake almost instantly and knew by the colors bleeding through the sheer curtains that it was early yet. The sun was starting to rise.

Hannah was still asleep on the couch.

She wondered what had happened with that hot guy who had been trying to rally the survivors in the zombie flick.

Careful not to wake Hannah, she slid off of the couch and into the guest bathroom just off the side of the large, open living room. She took a quick shower, wrapping up in the robe Hannah had given her last night. There were plenty of toiletries. Brandon hadn't forgotten the lessons Ella Sue had drilled into them on etiquette.

Sadly, Moira had no clothes and while she could put on the ones she'd been wearing yesterday, her stomach started to churn when she picked them up.

They stank of smoke, and just the thought of smelling that on her skin all day left her feeling nauseated.

Wrapped in the robe, she left the bathroom in search of her phone. She'd call Ella Sue. A lifetime of experience told her that the lady would already be up. Their former housekeeper rarely slept past six and it was already showing past that.

Sure enough, Ella Sue answered on the second ring, her voice already clear and awake. “Honey, please tell me you're not sleeping at the house.”

Moira made a face at the telephone. Childish, certainly, but it made her feel a little better. “I'm not sleeping at the house. Apparently everybody has decided I'm just not capable of taking care of myself.”

“Girl,” Ellis Sue said. “You are more capable than just about anybody I have ever met. It doesn't mean you need to be tangling with somebody who likes to play with fire. Chances are he's well aware of just how capable you are.”

Moira swallowed.

As the silence stretched out, Ella Sue said softly, “You've never been an idiot, Moira. Don't you start now.”

That no-nonsense tone got through in a way nobody else had been able to.

Resigned, Mira said, “I just don't like feeling out of control. I've been out of control since all of this started. Now I can't even sleep in my own bed.”

“I imagine if Gideon hadn't had his hands full last night, he would've been more than happy to come back to Ferry with you.”

“I know that.” Moira's voice thickened as a knot settled inside her throat. It was a punch in the gut, those simply stated words. Gideon would have done just about anything to make yesterday easier on her and she had no doubt he was busting his ass to figure out things out now. What had she done?

Quit it. Guilting yourself to death isn't going to undo or fix things.

She needed to focus and she needed to fix things.

She couldn't do much of anything just yet. She needed clothes, first and foremost. “Look, Gideon has me here on lockdown. He doesn't want me going anywhere without having somebody with me. I'm at Brannon's and I need clothes. If I have to wear what I had on last night…”

“Say no more, honey.” Ellis Sue spoke briskly. “You just need clothes or do you need personal items too?”

“Just clothes. No, wait … on second thought, Brannon always has extra here, but I might not be staying here tonight. Bring my toiletry case.”

“Not a problem.” Ellis Sue paused, then gently, she asked, “How are you doing, baby?”