Читать книгу Daddy Bombshell - Lisa Childs - Страница 7

His finger twitched and, as if by reflex alone, he squeezed the trigger. The gun vibrated in his hand as the bullet propelled down the barrel. He didn’t miss.

He never did….

The body dropped facedown onto the flagstones of the patio. Blood saturated clothing and pooled on the patio beneath the body.

Thad Kendall closed the distance between them and hunched down, feeling for a pulse. Nothing flickered beneath the skin, which was already growing cold despite the heat of the fire that was burning down the cottage on the other side of the patio.

Who the hell was this person who had set fire to the cottage and killed the man near the front of the cottage—not to mention fired all those shots that Thad had barely dodged?

He drew in a deep breath of acrid smoke. Then he reached out and rolled the body over so he could see the face. His sister’s distinctive green eyes, wide with shock, stared up at him.

“No!” Thad awoke with the shout and jerked upright in bed. He had already kicked off the covers, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his chest and back. The perspiration chilled him nearly as much as the dream had.

But it wasn’t just a dream; it was a memory of the shooting that had happened a week ago.

A knock rapped softly against his door, but before he could clear his throat to respond, it creaked open. “You okay?” a feminine voice gently asked.

He grabbed up a T-shirt from beside the bed and dragged it over his head. “Yeah, yeah …”

Just as she hadn’t hesitated before opening the door, she didn’t hesitate before crossing the room and sitting on his bed. “You were yelling,” she said. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Thad stared into his sister’s wide green eyes, which were full of concern and—thank God—life. He hadn’t shot her that night, and the man he had shot hadn’t really had her eyes. His had been a flat brown color, but something about the size and shape of them—as well as the man’s other features—had reminded Thad so much of Natalie that the image had haunted him ever since he’d turned the body over.

“The worst …”

She shuddered. “I know what that’s like.”

He snaked an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, you do.”

Twenty years ago, Natalie had found their parents dead in their beds on Christmas morning, and even though she later hadn’t remembered finding their bodies, nightmares had plagued her ever since their brutal murders. A man had been arrested, convicted and sentenced to two life terms, but just recently DNA evidence had proved that man’s innocence.

So the real killer was still out there.

It couldn’t have been the man Thad had shot. He hadn’t been much older than Thad’s thirty-one, so he would have been just a kid himself two decades ago. That was about all they knew for certain about the dead guy—his approximate age and that his first name had maybe been Wade.

Even though Wade hadn’t been old enough to be the Christmas Eve Killer, as the media had dubbed their parents’ murderer, Thad still wanted to learn more about the man he’d killed. Like why he’d been stalking and trying to kill Natalie….

“You used to come into my room and comfort me,” she remembered with a wistful sigh.

“And now you’re comforting me.” He grinned at the irony.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her blond hair tickling his cheek. He and his oldest brother, Devin, were dark haired and blue eyed like their father had been, while his brother Ash and Natalie had their mother’s green eyes. Natalie had her straight blond hair, too.

But her sensitive heart was hers alone. “It’s my fault you’re having nightmares.”

“No, it’s not,” he denied. She couldn’t have guessed what he’d realized—he had been the first to notice the resemblance between her and her stalker.

“Yes, it is, because you had to shoot that man to save me and Gray.” She lifted her head and stared up into his face. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been for you, killing a man. That’s why you’re having nightmares, Thad.”

If killing a man gave him nightmares, then he wouldn’t have been able to sleep for the past several years.

“Maybe you need to talk to someone,” she suggested, “so that you can sleep. I bet Gray could help you.” Love radiated from her at the mention of her fiancé. “He was a Navy SEAL, you know.”

“I know.” That was why their brother Devin had hired Grayson Scott to protect her when Natalie had first mentioned her stalker to Devin’s fiancée, Jolie Carson.

“Or if you’re not comfortable talking to Gray, you could talk to Ash.” Ash, the second oldest of the Kendall orphans, was also former military and a detective with the St. Louis Police Department.

The oldest, Devin, had joined their uncle, who had become their guardian after their parents’ murders, in running their father’s communications business. Natalie, the baby at twenty-six, worked for Kendall Communications, too, as a graphic artist in the PR department. Thad was the only Kendall who had left St. Louis and hadn’t come back except for very rare visits to check on his family.

Even now he wasn’t back for good. Once his parents’ murderer was finally brought to justice, he would leave again.

“Natalie.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I don’t need to talk to anyone about the shooting.” But he needed to talk to someone. The DNA results had to be back by now. But instead of thinking about the crime-scene tech who was now his sister-in-law, another woman came to mind. Hell, that woman had never really left his mind once during the four years since he had seen her last.

“If you don’t want to talk to anyone about the shooting, you’re not going to want to leave the estate,” she said with a glance toward the window. Sunlight streamed through the partially open blinds.

“Those damn reporters camped out yet?”

She giggled. “You say that like you’re not one of them.”

He wasn’t. But only a very few people knew that. Everyone else believed he was really just an award-winning photojournalist for a cable network. “Well, I’d rather be doing the interviewing,” he clarified, “than being interviewed.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” she murmured.

Growing up a Kendall in St. Louis had been like growing up royalty. The media had recorded their lives, snapping pictures at school dances and proms and their high school graduations. And that coverage always intensified this time of year, around the anniversary of their parents’ murders. Since the discovery that their killer had never been caught, the media had gone crazy trying to get the siblings’ reactions. And in Thad’s case, his story about the shooting his first night back in St. Louis.

“Is that why you’re here and not at Gray’s?” he asked. “You’re hiding out?”

Her face flushed with embarrassment. “Hey, we’re not married yet.”

“Hasn’t stopped the two of you from being joined at the hip,” he teased, amused that her big brother’s knowing that she stayed at her fiancé’s would fluster her so much.

“Well, he’s my bodyguard,” she reminded him. “He’s supposed to be with me 24/7.”

He chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think he considers that a duty of his job. He loves you.”

She emitted a happy sigh. “Isn’t it wonderful? Devin, Ash and I all found love—true love.”

“Yeah, wonderful,” he murmured sarcastically.

She pinched his arm. “You’re such a cynic. I can’t wait until you fall in love, brother dear. You’re going to fall the hardest of all of us.”

He already had. But that was just one more thing his family didn’t know about him. Hell, until he’d left her he hadn’t even known how hard he’d fallen for her. By the time he’d realized the extent of his feelings, he had been a world away from her and in too deep to get out.

Hell, he hadn’t even been able to come back when his family needed him most. By the time he’d finally escaped the life that hardly anyone knew he lived, he’d almost been too late. Natalie had nearly died in the fire her stalker had set to her cottage, and her fiancé had nearly been shot to death trying to save her from that fire. The stalker had ambushed Gray as he’d carried Natalie from her burning cottage.

Thad had absolutely no regrets over killing her stalker. In the same situation, he would not have done anything differently—except for making sure he’d had the kill shot before Gray had taken a bullet for his sister. But his future brother-in-law was fine now, fully recovered. Thad was the one everyone kept looking at like he was going to fall apart. Because none of them knew about his work for the U.S. Department of State, they thought the shooting was bothering him.

What was really bothering him was the fact that his parents’ murderer had never paid for his horrific crimes. Thad wanted justice.

But that wasn’t all he wanted.

CAROLINE EMERSON CROOKED her neck to cradle the cordless phone between her ear and her shoulder while she folded laundry. Her best friend was given to marathon telephone calls even though they’d just seen each other that morning at church and saw each other every weekday at the elementary school where they both taught.

“You still haven’t heard from him?” Tammy asked.

A hard knot tightened in Caroline’s stomach, but she forced a smile into her voice. “No.”

“But he’s been back in St. Louis more than a week now.”

And what a week it had been. His handsome face had been all over the news.

Caroline reminded her overly romantic friend, “He’s been a little busy.”

For once he had been making news instead of reporting it: World famous photojournalist who spent years in war-torn countries finds most danger at home, forced to kill to protect his family.

“I was sure he would call you,” Tammy said, her voice heavy with disappointment.

“I was sure he wouldn’t.” But even though her head had been sensibly convinced that he wouldn’t, her stupid heart had held out hope, so she was disappointed, too.

“I set the two of you up four years ago because I knew you were perfect for each other.” Because Tammy had found the love of her life, she was convinced that everyone else could find the happiness she had with her husband. She didn’t realize how fortunate she had been to find Steve Stehouwer—the sweet man was one in a million.

For the magical month that Thad had been home in St. Louis, Caroline had believed Tammy’s matchmaking successful. But she’d had years since then that had proved how wrong her friend had been. Thad Kendall had not been perfect for her at all. But he had given her one perfect …

“He has been busy.” Tammy rallied her eternal optimism. “So you should call him.”

Caroline choked on her own saliva and the nerves that rushed over her. “No.”

“You should have called him right after you found out you were—”

“I couldn’t reach him then,” Caroline interrupted, “and I doubt I’d be able to reach him now.”

“I could see if Steve has a contact at the station who could get a message to him.” Steve and Thad had taken a journalism class together in college; that was how Tammy had met and then proceeded to introduce Thad to Caroline.

But Steve was an anchor at a local station whereas Thad traveled the world. He’d only been home a month when they’d been going out. Between assignments, he’d explained. Somehow she hadn’t thought he was talking about just photojournalism jobs.

The ever-romantic Tammy had believed he would fall in love with Caroline and stay home. And maybe, for a little while, she had let herself believe that, too. Or at least hope. But those hopes had been dashed forever when he’d left.

As far as Caroline knew, this was the first time he had been home in nearly four years. And in all that time, he hadn’t called, hadn’t sent her a letter or even a text message. He had obviously forgotten all about her.

BEFORE COMING HERE, Thad had driven all around St. Louis, over the Poplar Street Bridge and under the shadow of the infamous six-hundred-thirty-story-tall Gateway Arch. Sentimentality hadn’t inspired his impromptu tour of the city he hadn’t seen in years, though.

He had driven all over Greater St. Louis to lose whatever reporters and whoever else might have been following him. So he was certain that his was the only car that turned onto her street.

Four years ago she’d lived in an apartment building, close to the elementary school where she taught second grade. She still worked at the same school, but she had moved out of the apartment into a subdivision with cul-de-sacs and a mixture of newer ranch homes and well-maintained older brick Cape Cods. Thad glanced down at the paper on which he’d scribbled her house number, but before he could locate her address, his cell rang.

The distinctive ring belonged to his boss—his real boss—not the executive at the network everyone else believed to be his real boss. He answered with a succinct “Kendall.”

“We have a problem.”

He mentally cursed. “Michaels still hasn’t been found?” He shouldn’t have left—not with a man missing. But if he hadn’t come back when he had … he shuddered to think what would have happened to Natalie and Gray that night.

“He’s been found,” Agent Anya Smith replied.

His gut tightened with dread. “Not alive?”

“No. And before he died, he’d been tortured. We have no idea what he might have revealed to his captors before his death.” That was what she considered the problem.

Thad considered the problem the senseless murder of a good man. “Len Michaels wouldn’t have given them any information.”

“He had a wife and kids he wanted to get home to,” Anya warned. “He would have revealed anything if he thought it might get him back with his family.”

Grief and regret tore a ragged sigh from Thad. “His wife lost her husband, his children their father,” he reminded his boss.

“He should have gotten out before now,” Anya said. “Being a family man made him a liability … to the rest of us.”

“I don’t really believe—”

She obviously didn’t care what he thought, as she interrupted him to warn, “He might have given you up, Kendall.”

He hadn’t worked with Michaels that often. The agent had acted as a translator, and Thad’s fluency with languages was too well-known for him to warrant a translator. But their last assignment had taken him to an unfamiliar territory, and so he and Michaels had worked together.

Then Anya had passed on Devin’s message to Thad that he was needed back home, and he’d had to leave. Michaels had disappeared shortly after. Guilt twisted Thad’s guts. If he hadn’t left, maybe Michaels would have made it home to his wife and kids.

“If he did give me up, I’m not sure that I’d blame him,” he murmured.

“Kendall, don’t beat yourself up about this,” his supervisor advised. “I authorized your leaving. I sent in another operative.…” Her voice cracked with regret, but then she cleared her throat.

“That operative obviously wasn’t as good as I am,” he said without conceit. It was simple fact that he’d never lost another operative or a contact.

“You’re one of the best,” she agreed. “You need to wrap up whatever’s going on in St. Louis and get back in the field.”

“Soon,” he vowed.

His parents’ killer had gone free for too long; justice could wait no longer.

“I need you back out there. I don’t have to worry about you,” she said. “You’re not a liability.”

“No, you don’t have to worry about me,” he agreed. He had no wife. No kids.

But he might have … had he not left Caroline. She was the marrying kind; he never should have called her after that first disastrous double date with her friends. But she was so damn beautiful. And it wasn’t because of her summer-sky-blue eyes or her silky dark blond hair; it was the kind of beauty that radiated from the inside out. And he’d wanted to see her again and again.

And now, nearly four years after he had left her, he’d wanted to see her again. He clicked off with his boss and then looked up at her house. He didn’t need to check the address—he instinctively knew it was hers.

The brick Cape Cod had a giant wreath on its oak front door. The house sat behind a white picket fence, garlands strung from each snow-topped picket. At night, lights would probably twinkle against the evergreen branches. Lights were also wrapped around the pine tree in the yard and hung like icicles from the eaves.

All the decorations had his stomach churning with his revulsion for Christmas. Caroline loved it, which was just another thing they hadn’t had in common, another reason they could have never made a long-term relationship work.

He had often wondered, over the years, if he should have left her. He had fantasized over what they could have had if he’d stayed instead.…

A lopsided snowman in the front yard. No, this would have never been his home. Ever since his parents had been murdered in their beds on Christmas Eve, Thad had not had a home, or at least he’d never let any place feel like one.

And Caroline was all about home and hearth. Smoke puffed out of the top of the brick chimney—her house even had a fireplace. She probably had two-point-two children by now and a loving, devoted husband who worked a boring nine-to-five job so that he could be home every night to help her with dinner and the kids’ baths.

Thad respected that she had her own life now, and that was why he hadn’t given in to his temptation to mine his St. Louis sources for information about her. He’d hoped she had the life she had always wanted and deserved. He needed to just drive away and leave her alone. But instead he shut off his car and stepped out onto the snow-dusted street. Since getting Devin’s message, he’d been in hell. How could his parents’ killer be free?

But there’d been more, so much more that had happened to his family. His brother Ash had nearly lost his fiancée and their unborn child. Uncle Craig had nearly been framed for his own brother’s and sister-in-law’s murders. And Natalie, sweet Natalie, had been stalked and terrorized. His family had been through hell.

So Thad needed an angel. As much as he needed to leave her alone, he needed even more to see her face.

She wasn’t the one who opened the door at his knock, though. At first it looked as though it had swung open of its own volition, until Thad adjusted his line of vision way down to the little boy who stood in the doorway. With his dark brown hair and blue eyes, the kid was a miniature version of Thad.

Caroline had had his son.