Читать книгу Double Take - Leigh Riker, Leigh Riker - Страница 13

“Hey,” the man growled, “take it easy.”

That first voice in the darkness had barely spoken, his mouth close to her ear, before a second, deeper voice shattered the still night. “Let her go, dammit!”

Ransom barged out of the shadows, hauled the other man’s grip from her shoulder and then spun him around.

Cocking one fist, he slammed it into her assailant’s jaw. Cameron heard the sickening sound of flesh hitting bone. The small package the other man had been carrying dropped to the pavement. And her gaze jerked upward.

In the darkness she made out a set of features that set her pulse skittering: a square jaw, a generous mouth, shadowed eyes glittering with anger. She saw a mop of dark hair above a wide forehead. He reeled back, staggering, a hand to his head.

He had a wide forehead, like her father’s.

Cameron froze in shock. It couldn’t be…

When his fist balled for a retaliatory blow at Ransom, she quickly stepped between the two men.

“Wait!” She shoved at Ransom’s chest. It felt like granite under her hands. “Stand back and listen. Both of you.” She glared into his heated dark gaze, shielding the man behind her, as if she could. He’d always been bigger than she was, and he towered over her now. But Cameron had no doubts. “This is my brother,” she said, slowly and carefully so Ransom would understand through the red haze of his own fury. Then she turned. Blood trickled from the corner of the other man’s mouth.

“Kyle, you’re bleeding.”

Even bloodied, he looked good to her. She’d never thought to see him again. For a second, his betrayal of her family years ago—their family—flashed through her mind. The attempts she’d made to find him when James died had proved futile. Cameron gave him a curious look.

“I’m all right,” he said. “And yes, it’s Kyle—the name I was using when I left WP. Nothing like a souvenir, huh? Call me sentimental.” He moved his jaw, experimenting, she supposed, to see if it was broken. “I went back to McKenzie for my last name. Might as well,” he added. “Preserve the family heritage, you know.”

Cameron continued to study him. Did he know, somehow, that their father was dead? Whatever he had done, Kyle had a right to know. He deserved her loyalty—at least until they were alone.

She spun around on Ransom. “You are out of your mind.”

His jaw set. “Some guy pounces on you in the middle of the night, and I’m not supposed to react?” He shook his head, obviously disgusted. “You are an accident waiting to happen.”

“If so, it’s my accident. I didn’t ask you to be my bloodhound.”

“I’m a trained bloodhound. The habit’s hard to break.”

Cameron turned back to her brother, who was blotting his mouth with a handkerchief. The simple motion touched her. James had always carried one and Kyle had learned the habit from him at an early age. Taking over the job, she tsked at the amount of blood she saw oozing from his cut lip. “He didn’t break anything, did he?”

“Teeth all here. My jaw still works,” he muttered behind the linen, which smelled of James’s favored aftershave, too. She stooped down to retrieve his package and handed it back to him.

“Come inside. I need to see you in the light.”

She didn’t mean only to clean his wound. Before she opened the door to the lobby that was decorated for Christmas, Ransom reached out to do it for her then ushered them inside. Cameron balked.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Upstairs. With you.” Nodding to the doorman, who stepped back at the look in his eyes, he punched the elevator button. “I’m hoping he’ll listen to sense, since it’s clear you won’t.”

“What’s this all about, Cam?”

At Kyle’s shortened version of her name—older brother to kid sister—she felt her resistance to him weaken. Kyle was five years older than Cameron. No matter what he’d done long ago, he was still family, and for the first time since their father’s murder, she wanted to collapse in grief, surrender to it at last. Feel safe in Kyle’s arms. Or could she? Cameron glanced into her brother’s brown eyes.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she agreed with Ransom.

If Kyle didn’t know about their father, she wanted him to hear it now from her. But she also wanted his presence to protect her—from Ransom.

IN HER LIVING ROOM, perched on the chair arm while Kyle told her about his life since she’d last seen him, Cameron helped him pat disinfectant over his bruised jaw. The skin was already beginning to turn a dark, mottled purple and she could almost see the imprint of Ransom’s knuckles. He packed a mean punch. All that training, she supposed. From the look of him, he spent time in a gym, too, and she’d felt all that hard muscle and powerful strength up close, against her, at her door only last night. Now Cameron refused to glance his way. Despite her snarled feelings about her estranged brother, Kyle was more welcome in her home than any government agent.

She still couldn’t believe Kyle had just stepped out of the dark—out of her past—like this. After her unsuccessful search to find him, she’d given up. By then, James was gone and his ashes were in the copper urn on her mantel. What was the point? The crisis, she decided, had passed. If Kyle didn’t locate her one day, he would have to remain a shadowy part of her childhood.

Cameron glanced at the mantel. If they did reconnect and she forgave him, she and Kyle would scatter their father’s remains—together—near their family’s original home. Near their mother’s final resting place, too.

Now he had found her, but seeing him again continued to unsettle her. He hadn’t reacted much to the news of their father’s death. But then he and Kyle had been poles apart for so long, she admitted. One minute she wanted to lash out, to punish him for leaving years ago, for not being there when James died. In the next…should she climb onto his lap, as she had at the age of five, or hug him as she had at twelve, the night he left their family? Any comfort seemed better than none at all.

Kyle winced then set the peroxide bottle on the crate Cameron used for an end table. “I’m sorry as hell, Cam. About Dad, too. But I only discovered where you were—where you are—a few days ago. When I got to New York, I looked in the phone book, then called Information.” He held her gaze, as if fearing she would send him away. “I do that everywhere I go. I check every name of yours that I remember from the program, plus your real name. I’m glad you returned to that when you left the program. Glad you didn’t invent an entirely new one.”

“I’ve changed names too many times in my life. I don’t need another.” Her forceful tone was meant for Ransom.

“Yeah,” Kyle said, “I know how that was.”

Ransom shot her a look and Cameron stilled. There was another reason she’d taken back her own name, and after all this time she finally recognized it. “I…guess I wanted you to be able to find me. If I used another name—again—you never would.”

Kyle agreed, then bypassed any further talk about James. Catching up, he told her about his career in the aerospace industry. He lived in Houston now—or had, until a recent job layoff caused by the loss of a government contract—but had traveled a great deal. In part on business but partly, he claimed, to be able to hunt for Cameron and, even now and then, for their father. “I wanted to make amends,” he finished.

“If you were so determined to find Cameron,” Ransom murmured, “why not use the Internet? You can find anybody’s number there—except your father’s, of course.”

Kyle didn’t answer, but Cameron noted he was careful not to make eye contact with Ransom. She didn’t bother to hide her own disapproval. Why was Ransom hanging around? Why didn’t he leave?

Ransom was roaming the small apartment like a convict on death row. Every time he met her gaze, which Cameron, too, tried to avoid, his eyes seemed to darken another shade. His barely leashed intensity bounced off the walls. They were beginning to close in on Cameron, too. Like Ransom. She didn’t have to look at him to feel that slow heat inside, to sense his nearness.

“I’m sorry about your job troubles,” she told Kyle, redirecting her own thoughts, “and just before Christmas, too.”

He dismissed his business failure. “I’ll get another. In the meantime, I have interviews—some here—plus unemployment benefits.” He moved his package aside on the chair cushion. Even those small gestures were her father’s, too. Maybe the years apart no longer mattered. “Of course, I also have bills to pay.”

Considering the circumstances, Cameron felt a strange sense of welcome peace wash through her. Even his total estrangement from James couldn’t override her relationship with him. With Kyle she wasn’t alone in this…whatever it was.

She didn’t buy Ransom’s theories about Destina. But Kyle, it turned out, wasn’t as sure. While Ransom filled him in on his version of Destina, he listened intently.

“So you think Venuto is responsible for our father’s death?” he asked Ransom. “And Cameron may be his target, too?”

Cameron clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t say a word. Let Kyle sort this out, come to the same conclusion she had, send Ransom on his way. For that alone, she might forgive Kyle. When Ransom finished his rant about the still-open investigation, Cameron added, “But no one has tried to reach me.” She held both arms out. “See? I survived last night by myself. I’d have been fine all day without you staking out my employer’s apartment, watching everyone who came and went.”

“The doorman and I found a lot to talk about.”

“Revenge?” Kyle was still working through Ransom’s theory. “After all this time? That’s hard to believe—”

“Destina swore to destroy your father for his testimony. He was always a threat,” Ransom said. “Isn’t that why your family went into the program in the first place? But apparently you didn’t agree about the need to keep out of his way.”

“I left WP for reasons of my own. That’s between me and my father—between Cam and me now. I didn’t leave because I thought Destina posed no further danger to my family. I was just willing to take my chances in the light.”

Cameron frowned at his surprising admission. The same old sense of loss she’d experienced since Kyle left “home” years ago raced along her nerve ends. The last quarrel with their father, the shouted words that couldn’t be taken back, words she didn’t quite remember, Kyle leaving in the middle of the night…

Ransom stuck to his guns. “Your leaving years ago doesn’t mean Destina can’t strike for vengeance even now. Or try for that missing money. He’s still a powerful man.”

“So is his son,” Kyle said. “Have your people interviewed Tony Destina?”

“When he stood still long enough. Tony’s been busy. Since his father’s release from prison, he’s had Venuto in some pricey private clinic. Right now no one seems to know where that is.”

He didn’t say more, and Cameron glanced away from Ransom’s dark eyes to exchange a look with Kyle. In contrast to Ransom, it was easy to read her brother’s face—composed yet concerned—and she could almost hear him thinking, I’m here for you.

But would he stay? Cameron blinked back the tears.

Oh, Benjamin.

The sudden thought of his birth name, so long unused, overwhelmed her. For that single instant she had allowed herself to see him as the boy he’d been years ago, before the program, before they lived in hiding and fear, before the trial and Destina. Then in the next breath he betrayed her all over again.

“I think Ransom is right. You’re in danger now, Cam.” He still didn’t look at Ransom, but Cameron did—and saw a flash of victory in his eyes. Her own brother had helped him. “I don’t like your being here alone,” Kyle said. “I don’t like you working until all hours then walking home by yourself. You didn’t even hear me coming tonight.”

See? Ransom’s gaze echoed the statement.

Cameron looked away. She busied herself putting the disinfectant back in the first-aid kit, then neatly lined up a stack of bandages in the case.

“I can—” she began.

“Take care of herself,” Ransom finished for her. He prowled the other end of the living room, not far enough away from her for Cameron’s taste. Why couldn’t she seem to ignore him as she wanted to? Why didn’t he go?

“I disagree,” her brother said, making things worse.

“Kyle…”

“It’s all very well to be independent, Cam—under normal circumstances. But obviously, this is not normal. Until Dad’s killer is caught, you aren’t safe either. If Destina feels you know where that money is—that damn money—he sure can’t learn that from Dad. He won’t stop until you tell him.”

Cameron shuddered. “I don’t know where it is! I can’t believe this. I thought you’d be on my side.” She turned a beseeching look on him, probably the same look he’d seen the night he left WP, left her. “My job keeps me sane. I can’t sit around here worrying. Wondering. Feeling afraid again.”

He glanced around the spare room. “Then come with me tonight. To my hotel.”

She started to shake her head, but he took her hands and held them, searching her eyes with his. “My place isn’t fancy—” he glanced at her living room “—but it has furniture. The second bed’s already made up. You can stay with me.”

“Until when?” she said. “Until you find another position in Houston, in Detroit, or Seattle?” To her horror, her eyes filled. “I need my space here, Kyle.”

Kyle looked toward Ransom, who was still walking her carpet. If he wore a hole in it, she’d kill him. She sure as heck wouldn’t meet that heated gaze of his again. Or, at the moment, Kyle’s cooler one. Why were they joining forces against her?

Kyle gripped her hands tighter. He blocked out Ransom and lowered his voice. “I don’t care for the marshals any better than you do, but we need to end this thing. In the meantime, I’d feel much better with you beside me.”

“I know you would.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He’d heard the sarcasm in her tone. “I know, I’m being the older, overly protective brother. Let me be just that, Cam. I’ve missed you for too many years.”

True enough, on her part.

Yet, in that moment, she realized she wasn’t ready to simply trust him again. Trust didn’t come easily to Cameron, and Ransom had a point. Why had Kyle shown up now? she wondered. Because he was in trouble? She’d been in New York for almost three years.

“Too many years,” she agreed. “I’m grown up now.”

He smiled, his gaze running over her in approval. “No more scrawny kid with big eyes and scabs on her knees. You turned out good, Cam. Now, about tonight…”

“I’m staying right here. Alone,” she emphasized. “I don’t believe there’s any threat to fear. Besides,” she added, taking a breath before she admitted, “I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

With a sigh Kyle folded her in his arms. “I was afraid of that.” She felt him look over her head at Ransom, felt the long-missed warmth of Kyle’s body.

“We heard the lady,” Kyle said.

Ransom crossed the room. “Then good night. I guess.”

“You’ll give us a heads-up on the investigation?” Kyle pressed.

Ransom didn’t answer immediately. He opened the door then turned to look back at Cameron. She had no doubt he’d stay nearby tonight, make friends with her doorman rather than Emerald’s, but she wondered whether because of his medical leave he even had any official part in the investigation. It didn’t seem so. Yet despite the irritation he always caused, she felt that stubborn, slow tingle of need run down her spine.

“You’re okay with this?” He nodded at Cameron then at Kyle.

“I’m…okay.”

He studied her for a long moment before glancing at her brother again. “Then do what he says.”

“Why don’t you stay awhile longer—and deputize him?”

Ransom’s mouth twitched. “Cute, Cameron. Very cute.”

When the door closed behind him, she leaned back in Kyle’s arms. But the lingering buzz Ransom caused in her veins, through her entire body, didn’t cool. “That man makes my blood steam.”

Kyle surprised her by saying, “I think you make his blood steam, too.”

She flushed. “I didn’t mean…attraction.”

He frowned. “Well, he does.”

She made her voice flippant. “Oh. Is that why he stalks me everywhere?”

“From now on, kid, I’m your stalker.”

She smiled up at him, but Kyle’s eyes stayed serious and Cameron’s niggling distrust of his surprise appearance tonight remained. “I’m not making light of Destina,” she tried to assure him. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll fix us both some cocoa before you go. Ransom tends to be a bit obsessed. I’d rather move on with my life. Our lives.”

“It’s a nice idea, Cam.”

As if he didn’t believe that was possible yet either.

With her confused emotions still running high, her awareness of Ransom and the anger he made her feel and her wariness of himself on his mind, Kyle started for the kitchen. But he paused to retrieve from the chair the small package he’d brought with him.

“Here. Open this. It’s for you.” He urged her fingers to the string that tied it closed. “Something from another time,” he added. “A peace offering.”

When she pulled off the paper, tangling with the string, an object fell out and thudded to the floor. Cameron picked it up and her heart melted.

“Oh, Kyle.” In a flash she recognized the soft-bodied doll from her childhood—the treasured doll she’d had to leave behind when her family entered Witness Protection. Along with everything else, her favorite toy had been abandoned. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had made that first move except her mother, her father, Kyle and Cameron.

Her throat tightened. Cameron cradled the doll, feeling a slight stiffness here and there. It must have been left in the rain at some point, then dried. The doll looked dirty and worn—apparently well loved—but its button eyes brightly stared up at her as they had done so often at night before she fell asleep. At three years old, on the verge of having her world destroyed, she’d clutched that doll for a final time like a talisman against the dark that would soon engulf her. Now she had a piece of her life back again.

“Where did you find this?”

“At Gram’s.” After leaving the program—before he’d vanished without a trace—Kyle had gone to live with their maternal grandmother until he finished school. Like their mother and James, Gram was dead now. But she’d saved this doll for Cameron. All those years.

Kyle had guessed at its significance to her. She didn’t know what to say now except, “Thank you,” which seemed so inadequate.

Kyle shrugged. “I knew you’d appreciate the memento from our childhood. All I remember is getting uprooted and living where I didn’t want to go, always lying about who I was.”

Like their names, she thought. She wasn’t ready to forgive Kyle. But at least now she had the chance to rebuild what they’d lost.

“WHY WOULD YOU choose not to?” Emerald said in a strident tone late the next afternoon. “How could you refuse?”

She didn’t mean Kyle, and Cameron felt her first reaction—a simple no—take flight. She surveyed the pile of evening gowns on Emerald’s wide bed and tried not to stare. Black velvet, bronze satin, red silk…they must be worth more money than Cameron’s entire wardrobe—mostly practical pants and shirts—several times over.

Emerald’s hands fluttered over the obviously expensive fabrics. And again, Cameron thought how nervous she seemed. Last night’s phone call must still be bothering her. Why else had she made such an outrageous suggestion?

She didn’t really have a choice, Cameron realized. If she wanted to keep her job here, if she wanted to talk her way into other clients through Emerald, she would have to do as Emerald asked. No, demanded.

“Stand in for you?” she said. “Me?” Determined to decide her own fate, she tried to back out. “I realize we’re the same height and build, more or less, but…”

Irritation edged Emerald’s tone. “It’s only for one night.” She ripped another dress from a hanger in her closet. Dark green watered silk flowed onto the bed and drank up the soft light from the bedside lamp. Once more she ran through the scenario. “You’ll come to the hotel just before the Zeus reception ends. We’ll trade clothes there in my dressing room. Then I disappear in your jeans while you take my place in the evening dress I wore to the reception. You climb into my limousine for the ride home and wave to the press through the tinted windows. No one will actually see you except getting in and getting out of the car. You’ll wear my coat, which has a hood to hide your face. Now, is that so hard?”

Emerald dashed back to the walk-in closet and came out with a suitcase. She threw in lingerie, shoes, pants and blouses. They didn’t match but Emerald didn’t seem to care. She seemed intent upon one thing now—leaving town.

At a sharp rap on the open door, Emerald jerked around. She clutched a pair of designer jeans in both hands, her knuckles white. Her features didn’t relax but faint relief sounded in her voice when she recognized her personal trainer, a huge, barrel-chested man, lounging in the doorway.

“Ron. I thought we had finished for the day.”

“Torture’s over but I wondered about my pay.”

“Grace will write a check, you know that. See her.”

Uh-oh, Cameron thought. More trouble. Ron’s frown and the hard look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. Turning her back, Emerald dropped the jeans then rearranged the gowns on the bed.

“Grace had a headache.” Ron straightened, his gaze raking Emerald. “Probably from one of your browbeatings. She went home.”

“Then she’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been put off.” He glanced at Cameron, who felt decidedly uncomfortable being in the middle of their quarrel. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” he told her. “Greer’s up to her pretty ears in unpaid bills. Her staff’s income is the last to be dealt with, which I’m sure you’ll learn.”

“I will talk with you tomorrow, Ron,” Emerald cut across his statement. “Don’t be late tonight.” He doubled as her chauffeur, Cameron knew, and would drive her to the Zeus reception. Carrying a dress, Emerald walked toward him, clearly intent upon shutting the door behind him for now. “Thank you for the workout. I’m still perspiring. I must have lost five pounds.”

“That why you’re shaking now?”

Cameron had noticed, too. Emerald was not in control.

“Or is it the guy who keeps calling?” He stepped back into the hall before Emerald reached him. The muscles of his massive chest and biceps stood out when he folded his arms. Not a man to make an enemy of, Cameron thought. “Better watch it, Champ,” he said. “There are a lot of nuts out there. If he takes it in mind to turn up here—”

“I’m sure you’ll protect me.” Emerald’s voice dripped with both honey and vinegar, but her fingers twitched again on the silk in her hands.

“That’s why you pay me.”

His sarcastic tone served as a reminder that she owed him. As if satisfied with that for the moment, Ron gave Cameron a nod, turned and went soundlessly down the hall.

For a long moment no one spoke. Emerald threw down the silk gown.

Then she said, “Don’t let his muscle-bound appearance fool you. Ron is minor league. I pulled him out of the gutter two years ago. He’s not that good a driver, either. When I’m back on top in my game, and my knee is fully healed, he’ll be the first to go.”

“Still,” Cameron mused, “I wouldn’t want to cross him.”

“He’s a nobody. Grace undoubtedly paid him—and he simply wants more.”

She turned back to the suitcase, pushed everything flat inside and closed the latches. When she faced Cameron again, she was smiling.

“Imagine being afraid of him, or that deranged man who called. They won’t touch me.” She waved toward the dresses on the bed. Red, green, black. “I think the bronze satin will do for you. It suits both of us.” She returned to the closet then handed Cameron a sleek, long-haired object.

Cameron recoiled.

“Take it,” Emerald said with a half smile. “My wig for those bad-hair days. If you’re going to impersonate me tonight, you’ll need to be blond.”

Cameron frowned. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Of course it will work. Most people are completely unobservant. Unless you’re forced to play tennis, you can easily pass for me.” A pleading note had entered her voice and Cameron sank down on the bed, knowing she’d been defeated.

As far as she could tell, Emerald had plenty of colleagues and professional acquaintances—all potential clients for Cameron—but no real friends. Ron and Grace didn’t appear to like her either. As for enemies, that “fan”… Cameron shuddered at the memory of his harsh voice, his threat. She knew all about that—in the past. Now she had her job to consider. Plus, she felt a connection to Emerald.

“Well, if it will help…”

Emerald headed for the bathroom to shower.

“You’ll save my life,” she said, sounding confident again. “I’ll be at Ted’s if anyone needs me. Grace has his number.”

Cameron knew a look of escape when she saw it.

“I need a few days out of the limelight,” Emerald said over her shoulder. “When I get back, we’ll see about a reward for your service.”

“Miss Greer. Emerald…”

But she was gone in a click of heels on marble tile.

HOURS LATER, Cameron gazed at herself in the mirror of Emerald’s dressing room at the Waldorf-Astoria. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo beneath the low-cut neckline of the bronze satin gown.

“Well?” she said, taking care to hide her bandaged fingers in the skirt.

“Perfect.” Wearing Cameron’s jeans and sweater, Emerald stood behind her.

Cameron compared their images. Briefly, another wave of uncertainty about tonight darkened her eyes, but she had to admit, she didn’t look half-bad. She and Emerald did resemble each other—in reverse now. Their shoulders were on a level, their heads, too, and anyone would be hard-pressed to notice the few pounds’ difference between them. When Cameron put on a coat, it would be impossible to discern unless that person knew them well.

Which made her ask the question.

“What about Ron?”

“I didn’t tell him. It won’t matter. He’s being paid—and he will be paid—to drive me to this hotel then home again. I have nothing more to say to him tonight.”

Because of their earlier quarrel, that left Cameron to explain the ruse to Ron later. Emerald didn’t seem to care.

So, big deal. She could play someone else—again—for one night. She’d had plenty of practice, and she had to admit, the dress was flattering. The bronze satin nipped in Cameron’s waist and emphasized her smaller breasts. No jeans tonight. This might be her one chance to shine.

If she succeeded, Emerald would be grateful.

As a reward, The Unlimited Chef might benefit from her gratitude.

Cameron would be that much closer to making it on her own. Being normal.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to relax.

What was the harm? Even in the back seat of a darkened limousine, she would be more a part of things, out in the open and free, than in all her years in Witness Protection. Maybe it would be fun to lead a harmless press, rather than a killer, off the track.