Читать книгу A Kiss to Die for - Gail Barrett - Страница 13

Chapter 4

Despite what she’d told Sully, by the time they arrived at Hunter Hall, the eighteenth-century estate in the northern-Virginia countryside where the charity gala was being held, Haley’s bravado was fading fast. She stared out the passenger-side window of their borrowed car at the thousands of acres of dusky woodland rolling toward the Shenandoah River and struggled to contain her nerves.

She dreaded confronting her parents. She feared exposing her presence to the killer who wanted her dead. Every instinct she possessed warned her to run, take cover, hide. Instead, she was going public, revealing her identity, setting herself up as a target—and putting Sully’s life even more at risk.

But she had no choice. She couldn’t go on looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t keep fleeing the killer when he’d only find her again. And she couldn’t continue to jeopardize those teenage girls. Unless she brought him down now, she could never return to her shelter. She would lose everything she’d worked for—her dreams, her sense of security, her home.

Still, she never should have involved Sully. She should have kept him far from the gang trying to murder her instead of coercing him to help. So what if he’d saved her life? She had no business endangering him further—no matter how badly she needed his support.

Battling back a flurry of anxiety, she cast him a glance, taking in the wide, muscled shoulders straining his tuxedo, the appealing contrast of his swarthy skin against his stark-white shirt. He’d combed his shaggy hair into submission and shaved the beard stubble from his face, revealing the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw. But somehow, his attempt to tame his appearance only emphasized the power of his features, making him look even more uncivilized.

He turned his head and his gaze connected with hers. And for one unguarded instant, that raw heat tangled between them, those whiskey-colored eyes wreaking havoc on her insides. Then he lowered his gaze, traveling over every inch of her, unleashing a frenzy of nerves in her chest.

She jerked her gaze to the windshield, her pulse on a wild stampede. She didn’t need this. It didn’t matter if he compelled her. It didn’t matter if he radiated an inner pain she found hard to resist. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her, no matter how much he stirred her blood. She had to track down the man trying to kill her—or they both would end up dead.

The long drive began to curve, the centuries-old oak trees and tulip poplars closing in on her like a gauntlet on either side. Then the mansion came into view, its huge white pillars spurring her pulse into another sprint. Sully stopped in front of the imposing entrance, and a teenage valet rushed over to open Haley’s door. She stepped out of the car, trying to attribute the chills skidding down her spine to the cold, autumn breeze instead of fear.

Sully joined her at the portico steps. “Some place.”

“It’s on the historic register.” The exquisitely restored mansion was the epitome of antebellum gentility with a huge central hall built of local limestone flanked by two-bay wings. Not exactly where she’d expect to confront a killer. But that’s why they were here.

A burst of laughter drew her attention to the side of the house. Stopping, she studied the people crowded around a sports car parked beneath a tent. “They always have a raffle at these events,” she explained. “People donate cruises, vacations, cars.”

Sully raised a brow. “Must be nice to have that much money to give away.”

“They don’t do it to be kind. Well, maybe a few of them do.” She had to be honest about that. “But for most of these people, money’s a means to an end—status, power. That’s how they measure your worth—by what you can do for them. And if you can’t help them get ahead, they discard you without a thought.”

Oh, God. Where had that tirade come from? Her face warmed as she realized how bitter she sounded, at how much of her past she’d disclosed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Haley.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and cupped her jaw. His touch was gentle, barely there, but his warm, calloused skin sent a blaze of heat rushing through her, both thrilling and steadying her somehow. “We don’t have to do this. We can leave right now.”

His husky words rumbled through her. His eyes and voice held her captive, anchoring her in place. And for a minute, she was so darned tempted to take the easy way out, to jump back in the car and leave before anyone noticed them here.

But she’d never forgive herself if she gave up. This killer was threatening her friends, her pregnant girls, the dreams she’d spent years working to make real. She had to stand and fight.

“No. I need to talk to my parents. But let’s make it fast, all right?”

He lowered his hand, a crooked smile warming his eyes. “A ‘shoot and scoot’ it is, then. A quick attack and then retreat,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look. “We’ll get the information we need and go.”

“That sounds good.” Especially the part about retreat. But she refused to run. She could handle her parents. She was older now. She had a satisfying life helping troubled teens. She didn’t need their approval, didn’t need them to validate her self-worth. And she wouldn’t let them shake her composure, no matter how nervous she felt.

Sully offered her his arm. “Ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.” Gripping his arm for courage, she turned to the entrance and accompanied him through the massive door.

But one glance at the crowd milling beneath the chandeliers—their diamond jewelry flashing, their forced laughter rising above the strains of the string quartet—made her want to bolt. She despised this world—power brokers making deals over old-fashioneds. Women plotting remarriages over caviar. Do-gooders who wouldn’t dream of getting their hands dirty, writing checks to absolve themselves of any real responsibility for fighting the evil plaguing the world.

But this wasn’t the time to indulge in a rant. And no matter where the money came from—or why—it went to a worthy cause, supporting shelters like hers.

Assuming she survived long enough to collect the check.

While Sully took care of her shawl, she headed to the reception table tucked discreetly to the side of the foyer. Exquisite millwork covered the walls, along with museum-quality portraits in huge gilt frames.

“Haley Barnes and Sullivan Turner,” she told one of the women manning the desk. “From Always Home Teen Shelter in D.C.” The woman consulted her list, then murmured to the worker beside her. “I was late sending in my RSVP,” she added, waiting while they shuffled through the names.

“Haley!”

Her heart lurching, she whipped around. A middle-aged man strode toward her with his hand outstretched. Senator Alfred Riggs. In his early sixties now, he looked stockier and grayer than when she’d seen him last. But he still had that aura of power that commanded respect, even in this moneyed crowd.

“It’s great to see you.” He sounded surprisingly genuine as he shook her hand. But then, he was a consummate politician, one of his party’s rising stars. Rumor had it he was contemplating a run for the White House should the current vice president decide to retire.

Years of debutante training kicked in. She glued a smile on her face. “It’s wonderful to be here, especially for such a worthy cause.” Thanks to his own troubled childhood, the senator worked tirelessly on behalf of at-risk youth—which also endeared him to the voters, paying off at the ballot box.

“Thank you for hosting this gala,” she added. “I appreciate the donation to my shelter.”

“I didn’t realize you worked in this field.”

“Yes, I—” Sully came up beside her. Grateful for the interruption, she turned his way. “Senator Riggs, I’d like you to meet my escort, Sullivan Turner.”

The senator’s eyes turned speculative as he shook Sully’s hand. “Have we met before? Your name sounds familiar.”

“I doubt it.”

Haley jumped into the breach. “Senator Riggs went to law school with my father.”

The senator smiled. “That’s right. And I had the pleasure of watching this lovely young woman grow up.” He waved at someone in the crowd. “Here comes someone else you know. We’ll catch up later,” he promised, then strode away.

Haley peered over Sully’s shoulder, experiencing an unexpected burst of pleasure as a woman in her early forties approached. “Gwendolyn Shaffer,” she murmured to Sully. “The senator’s chief of staff.” One of the few genuinely nice people she knew.

“Haley.” The woman gave her a kiss. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she added after Haley had introduced Sully.

“I run a shelter in D.C. now. But I’m afraid I accepted the invitation at the last moment. They can’t find us on the list.” She motioned toward the women still rifling through pages of names.

“Latecomers are on the addendum,” the chief of staff told them, and Haley smiled. Gwen had always been a “fixer,” one of those competent, take-charge people everyone relied on to get things done. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.

But her appearance had. Never slender, her hips had grown broader, her waist thicker over the years. Gray hairs now streaked her classic bob. But she still had that brisk, efficient attitude that had been her hallmark, propelling her formidable career.

And if anyone deserved success, it was Gwendolyn Shaffer. She’d helped make Haley’s teen years tolerable, offering sympathy and support, especially after her sister’s death.

“Oh, here we are.” Apology in her eyes, the woman at the table handed Haley their raffle tickets and brochure. “You’re automatically entered in the drawing. The winners are posted on the board near the orchestra as they’re announced.”

“Ms. Shaffer,” another woman called out.

“Another crisis.” Gwen rolled her eyes, but her smile softened the complaint. “We’ll talk again later.” She turned and hurried off.

“So your father went to school with the senator,” Sully said, taking Haley’s arm.

“He knows everyone. That’s why I need to talk to him.”

And there was no reason to delay. Inhaling deeply, she walked with Sully to the edge of the ballroom and scanned the crowd. Her belly churned. A clammy sweat moistened her upper lip at the thought of confronting her parents after all these years. But she’d come here to smoke out a killer.

And it was time to start.

* * *

An hour later, Sully limped beside Haley through the stifling room, no longer bothering to fake a smile. His head throbbed. His hands shook from the need to drink. His bum leg ached so badly he grimaced with every step.

And he was sick of the endless introductions, the air kisses and backslapping from vain, vacuous people who’d elevated chitchat to an art form, millionaires displaying surgically enhanced women to pump up their egos, men who wouldn’t last two minutes on the battlefield posturing to exude an air of virility and power. He’d met celebrities, politicians, diplomats. The Virginia attorney general was here, along with the commissioner of the Baltimore Police Department. Across the room, the ambassador of Jaziirastan stood talking to Dean Walker, a high-powered CEO.

The place was a logistical nightmare. There were too many people, too much commotion beyond his control. The patio doors were wide open, allowing people to enter and exit at will. And with every passing moment, the uneasy feeling drumming inside him grew. Danger was here. He could feel it. But which direction it came from, he didn’t know.

Damn, he needed a drink.

He eyed a passing waiter, tempted to indulge in a shot of whiskey to take the edge off his mounting nerves. But he couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t afford to dull his reactions with Haley’s life at risk. She was too vulnerable, too exposed, despite the crowded room.

He grabbed some water from the tray instead and gulped it down. Then he turned her way, skimming the graceful lines of her profile, the curve of her slender neck. She wore her hair up, but silky tendrils fluttered loose, softening the effect. And he had the strongest urge to move closer and inhale her seductive scent. To feel her softness wrapped around him and taste her sultry lips.

The dress she was wearing didn’t help. Long, black and tight, it showed off her curves to perfection, hugging her full, round breasts and hips. The dress dipped low in the back, exposing a heart-stopping expanse of naked skin.

Skin he had no business ogling right now. He jerked his attention back to the jam-packed room. It was bad enough that he couldn’t control their surroundings. Worse that he needed to drink so badly his heart was starting to race. But the last thing they both needed was to have lust fogging his brain, making it impossible to keep her safe.

The string quartet ended their piece. The emcee, a local radio personality, announced another batch of prizewinners to a smattering of polite applause. They were down to the final five.

Haley pulled out their ticket stubs from her little purse, then wrinkled her brow. “That’s your ticket. You’re one of the finalists.”

He shot her a frown. “Forget it. We’re not staying to the end.”

“I know. I just need to find my parents, and then we can go.”

Sully scanned the room, the crush of people making him sweat despite the open doors. He tried to loosen his collar, but failed. The rented tuxedo was too damned tight. “You’re sure they’re here?”

“Yes. They make a big show of supporting causes like this. They put on quite a show when I ran away, pretending to care. And events like this give them a chance to cash in on that sympathy again. Besides, I checked with my mother’s secretary. I said I was on the attendance committee.”

He tried to absorb all that. “Your mother has a secretary?”

Haley’s bare shoulders rose. “She has a busy social calendar.”

“Right.” He shook his head, wondering exactly how wealthy her family was. “How long since you’ve seen your parents?”

“Fifteen years. I talked to them on the phone once after I ran away, but...” She lifted her shoulders again, that wounded look flitting back through her hazel eyes, the same hint of vulnerability he’d glimpsed on the porch.

And all of a sudden, the need to comfort her stirred inside him, the desire to erase the tiny frown marring her brow and let her know that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t see my family, either,” he confessed, then blinked, stunned that he’d let that slip. He never talked about his family. He tried not to even think about them after the mess he’d made of his life.

“Don’t they want to see you?”

They wanted to see him, all right. But he couldn’t stand the shame. He’d failed them all too badly, destroying their confidence and respect.

Not wanting to go down that disturbing track, he tugged on his collar again. “Something like that. It doesn’t matter now.”

But Haley’s perceptive gaze lingered on his. And for one unguarded moment, he wanted to tell her the truth, to confess how horribly he’d screwed up. To reveal the guilt, the regret, the pain.

No wonder the kids in her shelter liked her. There was something soothing about this woman, something solid and warm and kind. Her soft eyes promised compassion, absolution. As if she could make the world all right.

But then her gaze shifted to someone behind him. Her spine stiffened, snapping his attention back to the ballroom and the danger shadowing their heels. His pulse accelerating, he wheeled around. “What is it?”

“My parents.”

The dense crowd parted, revealing a couple heading their way. Sully’s gaze zeroed in on her father, Oliver Burroughs. About six feet tall, the prominent Baltimore defense attorney had Haley’s dark hair and hazel eyes, but the similarities ended there. His stride was an arrogant swagger, his eyes sharp and impatient as they skimmed the crowd. An egotist, Sully decided. A man consumed with his own inflated sense of power.

Sully’s gaze shifted to the woman beside him. Haley’s mother, Catherine, was tall, blonde and still strikingly beautiful, despite her advancing age. She had a slender build and a blade-thin nose in an impossibly flawless face. Like Haley, she wore her blond hair up, but not a strand was out of place. Diamonds glittered around her swanlike throat.

He swung his gaze to Haley, marveling at the difference. Haley certainly couldn’t match her mother in looks. Her mother was more beautiful, at least in a superficial way. But Haley radiated an inner warmth he found far more appealing. She was softer, more authentic.

More tense. She clutched his arm with a death grip despite the smile pasted on her face. And his admiration for her rose. No matter how much she dreaded this confrontation, she didn’t intend to let them know.

“Hello, Mother.” Her voice was calm.

“Haley.” The woman shifted her eyes to Sully. She sized him up and dismissed him in one cool glance. Not worth her time, he guessed.

Her gaze skipped back to Haley. She didn’t bother to do the air-kiss thing. “How lovely to see you after all this time.”

He’d never heard anything less sincere.

“It’s been a while,” Haley agreed. “Since I was a teenager, I think.” She paused, but when her mother didn’t answer, she soldiered on. “Hi, Dad.”

Oliver Burroughs spared a glance at his daughter, his eyes lacking any warmth. Sully could see this attorney ripping his opponents in court to shreds.

“I was hoping to talk to you,” she added.

“We don’t have anything to say.”

Haley’s chin went up. Her smile didn’t slip, but her fingers dug into Sully’s arm so hard he expected bruises to form. “Please. It’s important. I need information. It has to do with the Ridgewood gang.”

Her father’s eyes turned even colder. He glanced at Sully, then back to his daughter again. “You know I don’t discuss my clients.” He grabbed a drink from a passing waiter, then turned away.

But Haley released Sully’s arm and blocked his path. “Please, Dad. I only need information. It won’t take long, but...my life could be at risk. Can’t we go somewhere to talk?”

Her mother’s pinched nostrils flared. “Really, Haley. Your imagination always did get the best of you. And you heard his answer. Now please don’t act crass and create a scene. You’ve damaged the family enough.” She took her husband’s arm and pulled him away. A moment later she stopped to greet the senator. Her forced laughter floated back.

Sully glanced down at Haley. She stood stock-still, her eyes stricken in her flushed face. His anger rose, his own face heating at the need to avenge the slight. What the hell was wrong with her parents? How could they ignore Haley’s plea for help? Their daughter’s life was at stake.

He balled his hands and stepped forward, determined to make them talk.

“Don’t.” She tugged his sleeve, the flayed look in her eyes twisting his heart. “It’s not worth it. I was wrong to come here. I thought... It doesn’t matter. Let’s...let’s just go.”

“Good idea.” This was a waste of time. Finding the killer in this crowd was futile, like searching for a diamond in a gravel pit. It could be anyone—or no one. There wasn’t any way to tell. And people were already whispering, spreading word of Haley’s humiliation at her parents’ hands.

Even more anxious to leave now, he placed his palm at the small of her back and steered her toward the door. But the crowd had tripled since they’d arrived, making it difficult to move.

Behind them, the music stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee announced. “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. We’ll now announce the three finalists in our auction. Please come up when I call your names.”

Good. The distraction would draw the crowd’s attention to the stage, enabling them to sneak away without another scene.

“Kenneth Jones, Camille Henson and Sullivan Turner,” the man boomed out. “Please come to the stage.”

Haley stopped and turned back. “You have to go up there.”

“I don’t care about the raffle. Let’s get out of here.”

“Please.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “If we leave now, they’ll think they drove us out.”

He knew she meant her parents. And he couldn’t blame her for wanting to preserve her pride. “It’s not just that. I can’t leave you alone in the crowd.”

“I’ll go up with you.”

“You’d be too exposed.” And even though he had his sidearm, he couldn’t risk opening fire in a crowd this size. The collateral damage would be too high.

But she didn’t budge. “Nobody’s going to shoot us in the ballroom. And it will only take a minute. We’ll accept whatever the prize is and leave right after that.”

He glanced around. People were pointing and looking his way. His heart sank. She was right. They’d look like cowards if they slipped out now.

“Fine.” Not seeing an alternative, he trailed her to the small corner stage where two other people waited with the emcee. Taking his position beside Haley, Sully scowled at the audience, watching for signs of animosity.

Haley leaned toward him. “Try to look happy. You’re about to win something.”

“Right.” He bared his teeth.

The emcee introduced Senator Riggs, who thanked an endless stream of sponsors for their help. He finally wound down, and the emcee took the microphone again. While a drum rolled, he reached into a clear, plastic ball and pulled out a ticket stub. “In third place, a two-week cruise to the Black Sea, Camille Henson.”

Sully clapped. But he caught sight of Haley’s parents in the crowd and it was all he could do not to glare.

The drum roll sounded again. “In second place, for ten thousand dollars, Kenneth Jones. That means Sullivan Turner is our grand-prize winner, the proud owner of a new Chevrolet Corvette.”

Cameras flashed. Haley turned toward him and gave him a squeeze. But his heart began to race, the light from the cameras flickering through his memory, yanking him into the past. And suddenly, he was back in that desert valley, the world exploding in a roar of flames, surrounded by bodies and blood and screams.

His limbs began to shake. A clammy sweat broke out on his brow. And that god-awful panic consumed him, the frantic need to fight back. He grabbed Haley’s arm, struggling to anchor himself to the present, knowing if he lingered another minute he was going to lose it and come undone. He had to get away from the flashing lights now.

But the senator stepped into his path. “If I could have your attention for another moment,” he boomed into the microphone. “I’ve just discovered that our winner is none other than Sergeant Sullivan Turner from the United States Army, who not only earned a Purple Heart, but a Silver Star, one of the highest commendations there is. He’s a real-live hero! I’m sure you’ll all join me in thanking him for his service to our country.”

Applause broke out. Sully’s gut tightened to steel. Hell. This was all he needed, for the senator to broadcast that. Desperate to hold it together, he gripped Haley’s arm even harder and turned to go.

But a man carting a camera blocked his way. “Sir, we need you to come outside and stand by the car for a couple of photos.”

“We’ll be right there,” Haley promised before Sully could refuse. Then she towed him through the crowd. “A Silver Star?”

Ignoring the people surging toward him, he mopped his brow with his sleeve. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” She shot him a look of disbelief. “How can you say that? That’s a huge award.”

An award he didn’t deserve. “It’s nothing.”

“But—”

“Forget the damned medal. Let’s just get out of here.” He knew he sounded surly. But there were too many people, too much noise. And they all seemed to be pressing toward him, offering congratulations, making it impossible to breathe.

Haley pulled him out the doors to the patio. His pulse still chaotic, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh night air. Light spilled from the mansion, illuminating the garden beyond the wall. But past the perfectly trimmed hedges lay acres of unlit fields and woodland—where a shooter could easily hide out.

“Come on.” Hurrying, he limped toward the side of the mansion where the Corvette was parked. The photographer was waiting by the car, along with the senator and another man Sully didn’t recognize. Several teenage valets hovered nearby.

“Man, this thing’s loaded,” a tall, dark-haired boy was saying to his friends. “Seven-speed manual transmission...” He ducked his head under the hood and rattled off a list of stats.

The photographer motioned Sully over, then turned to the valets. “Sorry, boys. I need you to step aside for a minute.”

Haley waved him on. “I’ll wait over here.” She joined the valets near a stand of trees.

Anxious to get this over with, Sully strode to the Corvette. The photographer got to work, taking photos of him shaking hands with the senator and accepting the keys from the dealer who’d donated the car.

Sully’s jaw started to ache. The pounding in his temples increased. And with every passing second, the uneasy feeling inside him grew. He didn’t like this. The guests were beginning to leave. Several lights near the tent had gone out. And Haley was too far away.

He pushed away from the car. “That’s enough.”

“We just need one more shot,” the photographer said. “In front of the mansion this time. If you could drive the Corvette around to the portico, we’ll take it from there.” Without waiting for an answer, he jogged off.

Haley caught his eye. “Go ahead. I forgot my shawl inside. I’ll go get it while you drive the car around.”

He hesitated. He still didn’t like this. The feeling of danger kept getting stronger, despite the thinning crowd. And no matter how damaged his instincts, he wasn’t going to let Haley out of his sight.

He glanced back at the car. The valets still lingered nearby, salivating over the Corvette.

“Hey,” he called to the tall kid who’d recited the stats. “You want to drive the car to the front for me?”

The kid’s eyes widened. “Sure.”

Sully tossed him the keys. Then he pulled Haley toward the entrance, away from the unlit grounds.

Male laughter erupted behind him. Sully glanced back as the kid swaggered to the Corvette, putting on a show for his friends. Another valet pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of him leaning against the car.

Sully shook his head. He’d once been that young, that cocky. That idealistic and naive. Back when he’d still felt immortal, when his life had been blessedly simple, when all that mattered were girls and cars.

The kid opened the door. More raucous laughter broke out. He got in and cranked the engine. Still smiling, he punched down on the gas pedal and took off.

The car exploded in a ball of fire.