Читать книгу Armed and Famous - Jennifer Morey - Страница 12

Chapter 3

The repeated ring of the doorbell followed by an abrupt opening of the front door jolted Lincoln out of the kiss. While Remy’s breath caught, he grabbed his gun and moved to the edge of the kitchen entry.

A file of people entered his house. Mom. Dad. Autumn. Jonas. Savanna. His mother noticed the gun and barely faltered. Blond hair in a bob and wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, she looked years younger than she was. He flipped the safety on his gun as Arizona brought in the rear, Braden McCrae and his son along with her.

“Lincoln Ivy, what are you doing with that?” his mother asked, carrying two grocery bags. Tall and lanky behind her, russet-colored hair unruly as usual, Dad held three more. Jackson Ivy taking some downtime from big movie business.

He chuckled when he saw the gun. “You look like you belong on one of my sets.”

Great. One of Mother’s impromptu family gatherings was about to descend upon him. Camille Ivy made a job out of Home and Family, and the hour of day didn’t matter.

“It’s after eight, Mom.”

“It took us a while to put this all together. Brandie, Macon and Riana couldn’t make it.” She walked past him as though that were a normal explanation.

His youngest brother and Number Five of the siblings rarely attended family get-togethers. “Macon still in rehab?”

“Don’t start with that.” His mother stopped short when Remy appeared in the kitchen entry, hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “Who’s this?”

“My neighbor. Remy Lang.”

Remy looked uncomfortable as she awkwardly took one of the bags from his mother, and they introduced themselves.

“Ah, the neighbor,” his dad’s deep voice boomed. He approached Remy with the three bags. “We’ve heard all about you.” He leaned in toward her. “It’s the reason Lincoln’s mother dragged us all here.” He winked back at Lincoln and his mother.

“Oh.” Flustered, Remy carried the bag into the kitchen, Mom trailing behind, already asking questions.

It had to have been Arizona who’d started them all talking.

Refined and slender in a silky tan pantsuit, Autumn brushed long, light red strands of shiny hair behind one ear as she kissed Lincoln’s cheek. “Hi, oldest brother.”

It had been a while since he’d seen her. “Hi, second oldest.”

She laughed.

Savanna stood behind Autumn; Number Six of the Ivy Eight had darker hair, with barely a reddish tint, and was taller. Her eyes were strong and happy today, but Lincoln knew she had her moments when she still struggled with heartache over her last relationship. Autumn hadn’t succumbed to that disease yet. It would take a strong man to make her commit. She had striking beauty like Savanna and an even more striking mind. The Ivys were all attractive in their own way, befitting the offspring of a famous producer.

Jonas showed up to all the family gatherings because he never exerted himself on anything that didn’t involve workouts or women. Few knew he was capable of more. He just hadn’t found his way yet. It was hard when you were the son of a wealthy man. No one in this family had to work for a living.

“Is your divorce final yet?” Lincoln asked, shaking Jonas’s hand.

“Last month.”

That was his third.

“I’m staying away from women for a while.”

Lincoln didn’t believe that. Except there was something different about his brother today. A fire in his eyes that Lincoln hadn’t seen before. He looked thinner than the last time he’d seen him. “Still working out?” Obsessively. Twice a day.

“I bought a Trek Madone. Still hunting down bail jumpers?”

Jonas was riding a bicycle? Trimming down. Lincoln had always thought he’d gotten too muscular, like a bodybuilder.

“Are you going to race?”

“No, I just like it.”

Weight lifting had defined him once. Lincoln had never thought that was all there was to Jonas. He was glad to see his brother finally growing out of that shell. Maybe it had been his last marriage. He’d seemed to love the woman, but it had been obvious to many that all she’d wanted from him was his Ivy name. She must have been disappointed when the entertainment media hadn’t painted her in a favorable light. Just another of Jonas’s whimsical and meaningless marriages. It wouldn’t last. And it hadn’t.

He hugged Arizona. “Thanks for telling Mom about Remy.”

She laughed a little and leaned back from the hug. “Can’t keep a secret like that.”

Like what? All he’d done was notice her. But Arizona had seen that.

“After I get Aiden settled, I’ll get a game of Clue ready,” Arizona said. “It’s my turn to kick your butt.”

As Lincoln marveled over her motherly instincts, Braden gave him a man hug, a few quick pats on his back, and Aiden was mesmerized by the television that Arizona had turned to a cartoon network.

Lincoln headed toward the kitchen, where his parents had taken the groceries and Jonas and Savanna had followed. His father’s laughter joined Autumn’s. Already his mother was well on her way to exploding his kitchen.

“There’s a casserole in the oven,” he said, half joking.

“Savanna is taking care of that,” his mother called from the stove, missing his sarcasm.

Savanna had removed the casserole and had found a container she was now dumping it into without ado.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, seeing Remy’s deer-in-headlights stare from the other side of the kitchen island, Autumn at her side. She white knuckled the back of an island stool.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d thought meeting his family would go. He wouldn’t have thought she’d meet them at all.

Arizona entered the kitchen carrying the game, Braden behind her. Now the gang was assembled. It grew loud in the room. Braden stopped to talk to Lincoln’s parents. Arizona gave him a shove, propelling him toward the table. He went there, seeing Autumn and Savanna engaging Remy in conversation. She still seemed awkward, disliking the loss of control. If she could, she’d bolt out the front door. Why did being surrounded by his family do that to her?

Jonas took a seat at the island and listened to his sisters and Remy, pretty soon joining the conversation. Something about positive thinking. Savanna was a motivational speaker.

Lincoln sat across from Arizona.

“The neighbor, huh?” Arizona wiggled her eyebrows at him as she put three cards into an envelope. “Remy, wasn’t it?”

He shouldn’t have told her Remy’s name. “Her dog keeps coming over.” Lincoln looked down at Maddie, who’d put her head on his thigh, the whites of her brown eyes flashing as she gazed up at him, tail wagging.

“Look at that. She loves you,” Arizona marveled. “Does the neighbor come with her?”

“She follows shortly thereafter.”

“I knew you were more interested than you would admit.”

“I’m not that interested.” He glanced over at Remy to make sure she couldn’t hear them. She answered questions from Savanna and Autumn on her job as a human-resource assistant while Jonas listened. Her vague replies made him wonder if that was why she was so tense. She didn’t like being asked personal questions. What was she hiding?

“Yeah, right,” Arizona said.

“She’s got a lot going on in her life,” he argued. Abusive men and bullets. “Too complicated for me.”

“What do you mean, complicated? All women are complicated.”

“No, I mean complicated.” He told her about Wade, leaving out their kidnapping.

“He threatened her?” She handed him some playing cards.

“And then he was murdered. The police came by to talk to her.”

She drew a sharp breath. “Murdered?” She glanced over at Remy. “Do you think she did it?”

“No. Be quiet.” He glanced around the kitchen. Mom and Dad were still busy preparing dinner, and Remy was listening to Jonas tell her about one of his rides.

“Why did the police question her?” she whispered.

“She was probably the last one to see him alive.”

“Why was he murdered?”

Braden joined them beside the table. “Someone was murdered?”

Tall and broad, he had short, dark brown hair and green eyes that had sobered. When he sat on the chair beside Lincoln, Maddie went over to investigate.

Lincoln told him about Tristan. “I haven’t had a chance to check him out yet.”

“Do you need help?” Braden asked. “I owe you after all.”

“No need. This time I can avoid involving more people than necessary.” Lincoln looked pointedly at Arizona.

“If you need help, we can help you,” she said.

“Me, not you,” Braden told her.

“Neither one of you. I do this for a living.” No way was Lincoln allowing them to get involved.

Arizona smiled her awareness of his determination. “Remy is in good hands with you.” She picked up a game piece. “I’m Professor Plum.”

He took it from her. “You were Plum last time. I’m Plum. You be Mrs. Peacock.”

Braden sat down next to Arizona. “I’ll play, too.”

“Did she rope you into these games, too?” Lincoln asked.

“She makes them fun.” He leaned over and kissed her, making his sister radiate love.

Lincoln didn’t press them on what kind of fun they had when they played board games. He was pretty sure they rarely finished them.

Checking on Remy again, he wondered if she was in good hands. Was she safe with him? He wasn’t so sure. Tristan wasn’t your average thug. And depending on what Lincoln learned about him, this could be more dangerous than he’d imagined so far. Too dangerous, even for him.

* * *

Remy watched Lincoln playing a game with his sister and her husband. She’d seen the way he looked at her and didn’t have to guess what the three were talking about. His freedom of communication was both admirable and disturbing. She wasn’t sure she wanted his family knowing the police had questioned her in connection to a murder.

Lincoln’s dad finished making chili for the chili dogs they’d decided to make tonight. Remy wasn’t sure how that was better than Lincoln’s casserole.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked Autumn. Savanna and Jonas had moved over to the table to watch the game going on there.

“Have family parties?” Autumn looked around. Jackson Ivy swung Camille around for a dance in front of the giant pan of steaming chili, humming a tune, both of them smiling at each other. Jonas gave a shout as Lincoln found the murder weapon in the library, and everyone else laughed, except Arizona, who shouted, “I knew I should have made you let me be the professor!”

“Yeah. Mom loves to keep in touch,” Autumn said.

And could afford to fly in and out whenever the whim took her.

“She descends randomly. Last month it was Savanna’s house in Pagosa Springs. Savanna wasn’t happy about it. For a motivational speaker, she sure is morose.”

Remy looked over at the woman. She seemed to be enjoying this party, but Remy had seen the hint of sadness earlier when they’d talked briefly.

“Samúð,” Autumn said, the foreign language sounding beautiful on her rich, sultry voice.

She’d been slipping in words like that ever since she’d gotten here.

“What is sa-moo?” Remy asked.

“Icelandic for pity. I wish I could snap her out of it.” Autumn continued to watch her sister.

“You know languages?”

“Several. That’s what I do for a living. I’m an independent contractor for now.”

“Really?” Remy glanced around the crowd of people who didn’t have to do anything to earn a living but did.

There had been a time when she had worked hard to earn an above-average income. She was nowhere near the wealth surrounding her, but she’d managed to work her way to a comfortable living. That was before she’d met Wade.

“You all seem so normal, and then...” She looked back at Lincoln’s dad, who’d released his wife to stir the chili.

“Yeah. It was always important to Mom that we be raised as normally as possible. We were spanked and grounded just like other Americans, trust me. My parents believe that discipline is necessary no matter what walk of life you come from.”

Remy nodded. “I can see that.” She turned to Autumn. “You have an amazing family.”

“What about yours? Do you have family here?”

Family...

Remy contemplated avoiding that piece of conversation, putting her hands on the back of the kitchen island stool. “My mother died three years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard on your family.”

“It was just the two of us.” Remy was too aware of the stark contrast between this family gathering and those she’d grown up with.

“No grandparents?”

“My grandfather died when my mother was an infant, and my grandmother never remarried. My mother was an only child like me. I never had a chance to meet my grandmother. She died when my mother was eighteen.”

“What about your dad?”

“He left before I was born. I guess single motherhood runs in the family.” She smiled past her difficulty in talking about her father. Many times she’d gotten curious about who he was and had always stopped taking action to try to find him. He obviously hadn’t been interested in her, so why should she bother tracking him down? Still, the curiosity had taken root. Seeing her mother die alone hadn’t helped. Her mother had loved the father of her child, and like her own mother, had never remarried.

“Well, if you wind up in this family, you’ll probably wish you were back in the days you were an only child.” Autumn breathed a laugh.

How would she end up in this family? Why had Autumn said that? Remy looked over her shoulder at Lincoln and caught him staring, intent blue eyes and sexy, messy blond hair. His arm was resting on the table, biceps round and strong.

“He keeps looking at you like that.”

Remy dropped her hands from the back of the chair, uncomfortable.

“Are you two seeing each other?” Autumn asked.

“Oh, no. We’re just neighbors, and Maddie loves him.”

At the sound of her name, Maddie trotted over and sat, lifting a white paw, looking up with sweet eyes. Then a low growl began, puffing her whiskery cheeks, building into a soft, communicative bark.

Autumn laughed. “I was going to ask who Maddie was.” She knelt and pet the dog. “No introductions necessary. Hello, Maddie.” The dog shifted her butt so that she could put her paw on Autumn’s leg now.

“What a sweet dog.”

Remy shook her head as Maddie’s gaze moved to her, as though saying, “She likes me more than you.” “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Food’s on,” Camille said.

Remy surmised that Lincoln kept paper products on hand for events such as this. He had a big pantry full of them.

“Here you go, honey.” Camille handed Remy a plate and took one herself. “Let’s fill up.”

Oh, no. Did she mean to sit by her? Remy had no other choice than to precede the woman to the spread on the counter by the stove. She put a dog on a bun and covered it with chili, followed by a few fries.

Just as she’d feared, Camille led her into the dining room off Lincoln’s living room, where someone had lengthened the table and added a few chairs, and sat beside her.

Camille ate a few bites before using her fork as a conversational pointer. “You know,” she said, “Lincoln is my oldest.”

“Yes, he told me.” She ate a fry.

That news seemed to give Camille pause. “You two have been getting close.”

“Oh, no.” Why did everyone think that?

“Lincoln isn’t exactly an open book. Especially after Miranda.”

Remy sensed his mother testing her. Did she know about Miranda? “Who is that?”

“His girlfriend. He was going to marry her. He’s never told me that, but I know.”

“What happened?”

Camille abandoned her fork, and sadness sobered her eyes. “They were on vacation in New York, walking down a busy street when a drive-by shooting took place. The shooter was targeting someone else, but she was in the way. It was completely random.”

The violence of it caught Remy unprepared. Lincoln seemed to attract that kind of mayhem. And now Remy had dragged him into her mess.

“That’s horrible.”

“He still thinks there’s something he could have done. It happened more than seven years ago, and still he can’t let it go.” Camille shook her head with lingering sadness. “It’s the reason he became a bounty hunter.”

Remy went still. Bounty hunter? “I thought he taught martial arts.”

“He does. But he hunts bail jumpers, too.”

Lincoln entered the room with his plate, joining the rest of his family at the table and sitting on the other side, two chairs down from his mother. He caught her look and eyed his mother, clearly picking up on the somberness of their talk and not liking it.

And didn’t it just figure that he was a bounty hunter? If Remy could, she’d get up and run out of here and keep running. Her dog and fear of Tristan stopped her. Maddie sat beside her, begging for food with just a look and a string of drool hanging indecorously from her whisker-peppered cheek. She had to find a safe place for Maddie while she cleared her name.

* * *

Lincoln shut down his computer, simmering over what he’d just learned from his internet search. It hadn’t taken long.

His family had finally left after midnight, and after he took Remy over to her house for a bag of clothes and toiletries, she’d gone to bed and he’d sneaked into his office. He’d still been annoyed after trying to get his mother to tell him what she and Remy had discussed at dinner. His mother had feigned ignorance on her way out the door, claiming she had only tried to get to know his new girlfriend. Remy wasn’t his girlfriend. Nor would she ever be after what he’d just read.

Now he understood why she was so reluctant to talk to police. She was wanted for murder in Newport Beach, California. And he was drawn into the trouble.

Lincoln was furious.

Not caring about her privacy, he went down the hall and opened the guest room door. She stood beside the bed, covers in hand, ready to climb in. Freezing when she saw him, she stared, unconcerned with the spaghetti-strap, knee-length nightie she wore. Right now, neither was he.

“We aren’t going to sleep until you tell me about Kirby Clark. And make sure you don’t leave out the reason why you tell everyone your name is Remy Lang.”

A couple webpages had revealed that. Clark’s murder was all over the news, and so were pictures of a striking look-alike to Remy Lang, known in Newport Beach, California as Sabrina Tierney, top HR executive for OneDefense Corporation. A far cry from the assistant she was now. He’d stopped reading then. He wanted to hear it from her. Better yet, he’d rely on some strategic friends for better intel.

At last she gathered her wits and straightened.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said. “Tristan Coulter is trying to frame me for his murder.”

“Why?” His patience had already worn thin, and he struggled to hang on to what was left of it now.

“I was a friend of Kirby’s.”

He stepped forward. She stayed on the other side of the bed. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Ramrod straight and still, she didn’t respond. Why would she? She’d assumed a false identity to escape the trouble that had chased her away from California.

“What kind of friend was Clark to you?” he said to help her open up.

Several seconds slid into the past before she turned and sat on the bed.

He went there and sat beside her, partly to let her know he wasn’t leaving until he had answers, and partly as a supportive gesture. He had no idea where the latter came from. The woman had lied to him. But he wanted her to tell him the truth.

“I met him at a conference,” she finally said. “We struck up a friendship after that. He wanted more. An opening came up at OneDefense, and he helped me get the job.”

“What conference?”

Again, she hesitated. “It was a gun show.”

A gun show. “You like guns?”

“I’ve taken up an interest recently.” She sounded almost sarcastic.

“What’s recent?”

“Over the past two years. But I’ve target practiced before that.”

She didn’t strike him as the type to have an NRA membership. “Did you know about the job when you went to the gun show?”

“No. The gun show was a few weeks before the job became available.”

“And you suddenly took an interest in a job at OneDefense? Didn’t you already have a job?”

“I worked for an insurance company that wasn’t paying well. Certainly not as well as OneDefense. And...”

And what? Had she known about the illegal gun sales? Had her allegiance with Kirby primed her to get in on the profits?

“Did you ever become romantically involved with Clark?”

Her eyes blinked. “As I said, he wanted more. I didn’t.”

He’d seen from pictures that Kirby Clark was an attractive man. Divorced. Available. Had she used him to get in on the gun sales? She claimed to be trying to gather evidence against Tristan. That much must be true. Lincoln had seen the envelope, and Tristan was trying to kill her. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have her own agenda where the gun sales were concerned. And she had developed an interest in guns before she’d met Kirby.

“Why was he murdered?” he asked.

That upset her. She averted her head and again didn’t reply immediately.

“We had plans to go for drinks and dinner one night. I was early getting to his office.” She looked up at him, and he saw the truth in her eyes. “Tristan was there. He was trying to convince Kirby to join him in his illegal operation. I couldn’t tell if Kirby was seriously considering it or if he was playing along to keep Tristan under control. Tristan saw me in the doorway. There were still a lot of people in the office building, so he didn’t do anything right away. He pulled me into Kirby’s office and closed the door. That’s when he told Kirby he thought they should get rid of me. Kirby argued with him, and eventually we were able to get out of the building.”

She lowered her head, tears springing to her eyes. “We were sure Tristan would try to kill me. We went for a quick dinner to make plans. He gave me Wade’s name and told me to leave California. When he drove me home, Tristan was waiting inside my house. He had a gun.”

Wiping away a tear, she took a pillow from the bed and hugged it, then slowly turned to look at him, cheek resting on the pillow. “Tristan found a knife in my kitchen and tried to stab me. Kirby stopped him. He and Tristan fought, and Kirby was stabbed. Tristan forced me to handle the knife. He was wearing gloves. He never used his gun and took the knife with him when he left. The police found it in a Dumpster near my house. As Kirby lay there dying, he told me to go as we’d planned. I called for help for him and did as he suggested. Now I wish I never had.”

Because going to Wade had led to more trouble. Lincoln reached over and touched her back, rubbing gently. “Did Wade help you the way Kirby said he would?”

“At first. He arranged a false ID for me. But he held that over my head, tried to get me to start buying guns through his store so that he could sell them illegally on the street. He was getting greedy. I refused, and he began to get violent. Then he discovered I was gathering information on him. Most of the money he made from the illegal gun sales went to Tristan. Tristan is running the operation.”

“Why was Wade killed?” Lincoln asked, although he already had a pretty good idea.

“He knew about Kirby, that Tristan was the one who murdered him. I told him. He must have threatened to go to the police.”

Because Wade wanted more money out of the gun operation. So Tristan had killed him. If what Sabrina was saying was true, she hadn’t known Wade was in on the gun sales until after she’d gone to him for help.

Lincoln believed her. She was telling him the truth. But there were some things she was keeping from him, such as why she’d gone to the gun show. Why would someone who worked for an insurance company take interest in firearms? He supposed it was possible. Lots of people had hobbies outside of work they didn’t share. But other aspects of Sabrina’s personality didn’t fit the profile of a gun enthusiast. Her femininity. Her relationship with her dog. Hell, the dog itself. Although a hunting breed, Maddie was no hunter.

Perhaps she’d known about OneDefense, taken an interest in the company and planned to get a job there. What drove her? What was she after? To expose Tristan? Or use what she had on him to get what she wanted? What could that be? Money? Or was meeting Kirby innocent?

Now that Tristan had thwarted her efforts to clear her name, what would she do? What would they do? It was time for him to take charge.

“Go pack a bigger bag. We’re going to California,” he said.

“What? No. The police are looking for me there.”

“They’re going to be looking for you here, too. If they haven’t pieced together Kirby’s murder and your false name yet, they will very soon.”

“How do you know that?”

“They’ll recognize you in photographs, for one.”

The rest would be simple logic. How could she be Sabrina Tierney, wanted for questioning in one murder investigation, and Remy Lang, a person of interest in another? Both in different states. Of course, it would appear she’d run from one only to land herself in trouble with another.

He watched her lower her head as she drew the same conclusion. The only way to clear her name was to expose Tristan. And how would they do that when she was continually being linked to murders?